Victor still had his pride.
At least he hadn't used a troop transport to haul these American "pigs."
When the motorcade entered Tijuana from the airport without police escorts or crowds lining the streets to welcome them, Diane Rodham was irritated, as she relished being respected by everyone.
Sitting in the car, she vigorously wiped her face with a wet wipe, especially where Casare had touched, grinding her teeth, "I'm going to chop off his claws!"
Donald Rumsfeld was in the same car as her and glanced at her but said nothing. Did she really dare chop off Casare's claws?
Tomorrow would make her understand what it means to be skilled.
Did she really think this was the United States?
He looked out the window at Tijuana in the distance. It was bustling... really bustling.
This wasn't his first time in this northern stronghold, but during his last visit, one could see little thugs smoking on the roadside railings, and drug traffickers openly dealing on pickup trucks.
Every five hundred meters there were policemen, every thousand meters a police car, and three kilometers away, a fire god cannon...
Want to traffic drugs?
Even if you TMD robbed a place here, you wouldn't get far before getting pinned to the ground. Tijuana could be considered harmonious.
"Scoundrels are indeed polished by other scoundrels," Donald Rumsfeld murmured.
"What did you say?" Diane Rodham frowned, turning her head to ask.
Donald paused and then said very seriously, "Diane, although we are from different parties, we're both here for the interests of the United States. I hope you understand that in Mexico, do not offend Victor!!"
Hearing this, Diane Rodham laughed scornfully.
She was annoyed by the old man, thinking him sanctimonious. When she met her husband while studying, he was known as a notorious playboy.
Out of a thousand girls at the school, he had dated 999.
Once, he was with a mistress whom he was quite fond of.
Diane Rodham told her husband, if you don't be with me, I'll make it so you can't enter politics, but if you are with me, I'll support you to reach the highest position!
Her husband was afraid of her, but he also feared the mistress would spill everything.
Diane Rodham took care of it, telling the mistress to leave her husband or else she would publicly accuse her of prostitution and demand the school expel her. If she left quietly, she would be given money.
The girl was just an ordinary student, and upon hearing this, she was frightened and ran away. That was Diane's first stop.
Afterward, she resolved dozens of "reputation disputes" for her husband, all related to women.
And Donald Rumsfeld had publicly criticized her, calling her "a woman like a scorpion!"
So, the two didn't really get along.
Coming together to represent the United States in negotiations was also a common way for American political parties to sabotage each other.
After hearing his "remark," Diane Rodham responded with laughter laced with anger, "A snake-like woman like me can't afford your compliments. Mind your own business, oh, and your granddaughter is having an affair with Victor. We could all die, and you'd be just fine."
Donald Rumsfeld nearly burst with anger at her response, huffing coldly, "I don't care what happens to you!"
The driver shivered, feeling a "great terror" behind him.
Lively music blasted from the speakers at the roadside.
"Welcome to the City of Majesty, Tijuana!!!"
The motorcade arrived at the Peace Hotel, which was directly operated by the Governor's Mansion. Soldiers guarded the surroundings, and the roof was equipped with an Mi-8 and a rescue helicopter. Even the windows were bulletproof, and the walls could withstand the strike of an RG-60TB Hand Grenade.
It was reserved for those who came to Tijuana on official duty and foreign delegates.
The doorman pushed the American delegation's luggage upstairs.
"Rest well," Casare said with a smile.
"When will Victor meet with us?"
Fat Casare looked at Diane Rodham, the speaker, still wearing a harmless smile, "The Governor will receive you."
This word irritated the American delegation.
It was they who used to throw their weight around elsewhere, with even an average person becoming an Emperor in some small African nation. Mexico, who had been under our thumb for over a hundred years, what right did they have to say that?!
Diane Rodham, angry, stepped forward, her height reaching just Casare's shoulders, and looked up at him, "Our business is very important!"
Casare extended his hand, prompting her to hastily step back.
Like a frightened... rabbit?
If word of this got out, she'd definitely be slandered by the tabloids. Her relationship with her husband was good even though they led separate lives.
Casare burst into laughter, his chin quivering. The recently gained weight made his jowls more pronounced than some flat pans, and he took a good sniff of his hand with a blissful expression.
"A very nice fragrance. Be obedient in Tijuana, I would be distressed if you died."
Casare's gaze lingered on Diane Rodham in a peculiar manner, making her feel quite uncomfortable. In the end, Donald stood up, "Sir, please arrange for Victor to see us as soon as possible."
"No problem, I will pass on the message."
He smiled, tugged at his suit, threw a glance at Diane Rodham, and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, he paused, "If your husband can't satisfy you, come to me."
Even as someone who made waves in the United States, faced with such a lewd comment, she was somewhat taken aback.
The Americans nearby looked at Diane Rodham strangely, those of lower status with caution and those of some status appraising her up and down.