Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 769 - 426 Kuzamar Reservoir Swimming Champion!

769: Chapter 426: Kuzamar Reservoir Swimming Champion!

769 -426: Kuzamar Reservoir Swimming Champion!

Squeak, squeak~

Two transport trucks barreled into the headquarters factory of Francisco Transport Mining Company in the suburbs of Mexico City, smashing the barriers to pieces.

Security guards rushed out of the guardhouse, babbling incomprehensibly, their dark skin glistening and a strong body odor wafting about—clearly Indians.

They held rubber batons in their hands.

The truck doors swung open, and over twenty armed militants jumped out, wearing balaclava-style helmets and working in perfect sync.

Two of them crouched in firing positions, left hands pressing down on their rifle stocks—tat, tat… tatatat!

They sprayed bullets toward the Indians’ heads, sending them screaming and diving to the ground, head down, pleading for mercy.

That brief rush forward already made them feel they had earned their paychecks today.

The rest of the militants charged up the building, spurning the slow elevators and sprinting up the stairs—ten floors in under thirty seconds?

They kicked down the CEO’s office door, interrupting a meeting in session.

Amidst the horrified stares, they grabbed the 59-year-old David Francisco, CEO of Francisco Transport Mining Company, and dragged him downstairs.

“Don’t hurt me! freeweɓnøvel.com

I’ll give you money!” he cried out in terror, his voice breaking.

He assumed they were mere bandits, primarily because their criminal aura was overwhelmingly thick.

Upon hearing the gunfire below, he had considered trying to escape, but there simply wasn’t enough time.

They had come too quickly.

David Francisco’s eyes widened as he saw a burlap sack being pulled down over his head.

His entire body lifted off the ground as someone carried him and headed down the stairs.

The leader was a tall, burly man whose deep-set eyes scanned the terrified crowd.

He pinched two fingers between his lips and made a mocking kiss gesture.

“Bye-bye!”

This team was clearly no ordinary group.

They tossed David Francisco into the transport truck and sped away.

The entire operation took less than two minutes.

The vice president and other executives, now snapping back to their senses, screamed frantically, “Call the police!

Hurry, call the police!!”

Phones started ringing endlessly at the Mexico City Police Department.

Bang!

The newly appointed Police Chief Carlos slammed his desk, his face dark with anger: “Provocation!

This is blatant provocation against justice!”

Nicknamed “Rookie,” this fierce general had once led the Guard Corps to escort Cuauhtémoc to Mexico City for his inauguration.

Later, Cuauhtémoc was targeted in a missile attack, and Carlos narrowly escaped by chance, though he had lived with guilt since then.

Once Victor entered Mexico,

Carlos found himself in constant conflict while serving as Police Chief in the capital, but it was Cuauhtémoc who recommended him for the position.

After all, Carlos was just 24 years old.

Moving from the Presidential Guard to his current position was undoubtedly a promotion.

He had worked tirelessly not to disappoint his superiors, but who would’ve expected this kind of chaos to unfold?

Just this morning alone, he received reports from 11 publicly traded companies, 7 of which monopolized various industries including rail transport, mining, aviation, and even poultry imports—each one worth a fortune and wielding significant social influence.

Most critically, if public opinion escalated, it would cast doubt on the new government’s ability to ensure security.

“I order—!”

Carlos was about to issue a command for an all-out investigation to identify the masterminds behind the incident when his secretary knocked and entered.

“What now?”

“Chief, there’s a call for you.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?!”

“It’s from Tepeya Mountain.”

Carlos’s pupils contracted sharply.

He immediately grabbed the phone and stepped outside.

Tepeya Mountain is known for its scenic areas—or more accurately, its villa clusters.

Ever since Victor fortified himself there, the region had been under full lockdown, with certain government offices relocated there, including the President’s Office and the Department of Defense.

But Victor continued working at the National Palace.

To avoid a single missile wiping out the leadership all at once.

Thus, a call from Tepeya Mountain carried weight—and essentially bore the same authority as one from Yuquan Mountain.

In the conference room, everyone whispered among themselves, uncertain and speculative.

Soon Carlos returned, his expression calm, picking up a folder from the table.

“Alright, meeting dismissed.

Get to work.”

“Chief, but… what about the kidnapping case?”

“Someone will take over.

Ignore it.”

The veteran officials present immediately grasped the situation, exchanging glances and nodding in silent understanding.

Carlos left with his hands behind his back, seeming rather pleased.

Earlier, his former superior had called him to give a heads-up, telling him not to worry—someone would invite the suspects for tea.

Approximately 30 kilometers from Mexico City lies the Kuzamar Reservoir, supplying water to the entire metropolitan area’s millions of residents.

Naturally, the pressure is immense.

To prevent poisoning incidents, the site had long been designated as a military-controlled area.

Two battalions of the National Guard and an air-defense unit were stationed there year-round.

The place was typically desolate—and quiet.

But today, the screams stood out starkly.

Eleven men in shorts were thrown into a small room.

Some wore glasses, others had bald, aging heads, but all were influential figures in the outside world.

At minimum, they were CEOs of major financial empires!

Water cannons blasted them, pushing them into the corners of the room.

Two minutes later, seven or eight burly men armed with rubber batons stormed in and proceeded to brutally beat them.

Every hit landed with ferocity.

No, every strike with the baton hit its mark.

The room filled with anguished cries—though some tried to resist only to be beaten even harder.

“Stop, please stop!

I beg of you, stop beating us!” The CEO of PRGD Marine Industries fell to his knees, prostrating himself and knocking his bloodied head against the floor.

His sobs were a pitiful sight.

No more, please, spare us!

“Cough, cough.” A coughing sound came from the doorway.

The burly men immediately stopped and lined up at attention.