Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1726 - 774: I Want to Host the Olympics (Part 2)

Capítulo 1726: Chapter 774: I Want to Host the Olympics (Part 2)

As the words fell, the dining table once again plunged into a deeper silence.

Everyone understood.

This was no longer a matter of investment amounts; this was “pledging.”

Sending the future heirs of the family to “serve” in key departments of Mexico’s new power structure.

This was both a hostage and a deeper bond. You could keep your wealth and technology, but your bloodline had to integrate into my system, accept my rules, to ensure your “loyalty” is sustainable.

Don’t think Europeans and Americans don’t care about bloodlines; they care a lot!

Family is also their button.

Larson’s face turned slightly pale, Foster’s fork touched the plate, making a crisp sound. Whitman closed his eyes.

They were all intelligent people, having been shrewd all their lives, and at this moment they were acutely aware: this was not an invitation for equal business cooperation, but an “offer” of recruitment on the opponent’s territory of absolute advantage that could not be refused.

In the end, it was the oldest Whitman who reopened his eyes, looking suddenly several years older, with a complete acceptance: “The Leader has thought it through in great detail, and it is an honor for the young people to partake in the great construction project, which is also the family’s responsibility. My son, Little Charles, just graduated from Harvard Business School, maybe… he could join the ‘National Reconstruction Fund’ committee to gain experience. He needs to understand how dynamic emerging economies like Mexico operate.”

Once someone takes the lead, the dam breaks.

Larson immediately followed: “My daughter Amelia is a materials science doctorate from MIT… she is passionate about new materials applications, perhaps the ‘Industrial Upgrade Guidance Bureau’ can offer a position suiting her strengths.”

Foster spoke dryly: “My nephew Mark, a master’s graduate in engineering management from Stanford, is interested in large project management… the ‘Strategic Resource Coordination Committee’ sounds like a great starting point.”

“Very good!” Victor’s smile became genuine and enthusiastic, raising his glass of water, “This is truly wonderful! See, this is the cornerstone of our joint future-building—not just the integration of capital and technology, but of talent and trust! For Mexico, for our shared bright future!”

Everyone raised their glasses, squeezing out smiles, echoing: “For Mexico! For the future!”

The clink of glass on glass made a crisp yet somewhat hollow sound. The sunlight was still bright, the valley still verdant, but everyone knew in their hearts that some things had changed forever.

They had traded money and the freedom of their offspring for a ticket.

After lunch, Victor bade everyone a polite and brief farewell, instructing Casare to arrange for the subsequent specific engagements.

He didn’t mention investment figures or specifics about the roles of the children, as if those were already settled matters without need for further discussion.

Nonsense, they wouldn’t dare go back on their word, would they?

Watching the capitalists’ cars leaving the manor.

Before long, another car drove into the manor. The Governor of Belize, Goring, got out of the car, walked in quickly, and bowed slightly: “Leader.”

Victor glanced at him, smiled, and pointed to the chair beside him: “Sit.”

Goring sat down, maintaining a respectful posture.

Victor pulled a cigarette from a pack and handed it over, Goring received it with both hands, lighting it with a flame offered by Victor.

“You’re doing well in Belize.”

Victor took a puff of the cigarette, gazing into the distance, “The situation is stable, those people,” he gestured in the direction of the mountain road, “are also settled.”

Goring nodded: “All according to your instructions, giving conveniences where needed, watching closely where needed. These people are clever, but here, they can’t stir up much trouble.”

Victor chuckled, flicking away some ash: “However, Goring, there’s one thing you must remember.”

Goring straightened up: “Please tell.”

“Don’t be too soft on these conglomerates.”

Victor’s tone was calm, as if chatting about the weather, “I know you’re keeping an eye on them; whatever little tricks they pull can’t escape you, but sometimes, you can’t just wait for them to make mistakes.”

Goring paused, then suddenly understood something, leaning slightly forward.

Victor continued, “Occasionally, find a reason, any excuse, give them a little nudge, check their taxes, review their old accounts, or let some project approval get stuck a bit, you don’t really have to do anything to them, but make them realize who the master is here, sometimes, even without mistakes, you have to let them feel like they might have made some. Capital, you give it an inch, it thinks it can take a foot. You need to knock it occasionally, so it knows who’s setting the rules.”

Goring was silent for a moment, then nodded heavily: “I understand, Leader.”

Victor looked at him, knowing that he truly understood, and then changed the topic: “Additionally, there’s something I can give you a heads-up about, just keep it to yourself for now, don’t spread it.”

“Your command.”

“The Olympics.” Victor uttered three words.

Goring was taken aback: “The Olympics? The Atlanta one? Wasn’t it already postponed?”

“Yes, postponed, and I see it as unlikely that Atlanta could host it,” “the International Olympic Committee will have to find another place. My suggestion is that we host it.”

Goring’s pupils contracted: “Us? In Mexico City?”

“Not entirely.”

Victor smiled, “My thought is to host it dispersedly, with Mexico City being the main venue, but some events could be held elsewhere. For example…” he looked at Goring, “Belize.”

Goring’s breath caught, his fingers clenched tighter around the cigarette.

Hosting the Olympics, even just part of the events, meant something extraordinary for a place. Infrastructure, international attention, investment, prestige.