Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 587 - 359: The Chaos in Cancun City!

When the ambulance arrived,

Abrego was really in pieces, and a group of people beside him were wailing, especially his second son Belman, who was in charge of intelligence and had recently established the Navy, cried miserably.

Well now...

No need for a stretcher.

Just pack him in a sack and drag him away.

Meanwhile, the other sons who worked in the unit were crying, but their eyes clearly revealed panic and unease, their gazes wandering on the second son.

Although he was greatly loved, the eldest son had already taken control of the military, was the commander of a division under the alliance, strong in troops and horses.

The most important thing was that the two were not born from the same mother.

With Gulf Group and such a huge inheritance in Southern Mexico, how could they not be tempted?

There was bound to be a firefight!

The smart ones seemed to foresee the future.

But now was not the time to talk about this...

Start crying first!

The whole Cancun City plunged into chaos.

Elvis Salinas, who was still drowsily cuddling a woman in the "Official Residence", was shaken awake, opened his eyes, and saw quite a few people standing in front of him with sinister looks, which scared him into shuddering.

No way...

Were they planning to kill him?!

Had Abrego finally decided to "seize power"?

The woman beside him screamed loudly.

But she was dragged out by several armed personnel.

"Sir, Prime Minister Abrego... has been assassinated!" a bearded man said sadly.

This was the Minister of Commerce of Southern Mexico, also an elite backbone of the Gulf Group, and after the founding, managed to nab such a "faceless" position.

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There were other ministers like the Minister of Defense, Minister of Finance, all former drug traffickers.

Under these people's governance, the economy of Southern Mexico had regressed at least ten years, with refugees everywhere, and the government did nothing, because only in this way would the starving people join the drug trafficking groups.

The political structure in Southern Mexico was just damn deformed.

It was more like a corporation in a post-apocalyptic game, creating a huge influence where the poor could never see daylight.

And the high ranks lived extravagant and absurd lives.

If we must bring it into context,

Mexico at this moment was like North and South Korea.

One culture evolved into two patterns, of course... something Victor would never allow!

Upon hearing this, Elvis Salinas's eyes—one large, one small—looked bewildered, followed by ecstasy.

The Grandmaster is dead?!!

No, the Prime Minister is dead?!

Did that mean power could now come into his hands?

He suddenly sat up, swallowed his spit, his eyes shining, he was ready to take control!!!

Just as he was about to get up, he saw a dozen armed personnel with guns rushing in through the door, led by a man in military uniform.

"From now on, the city is under military control, Mr. President, for your safety, please stay here and do not go anywhere."

This man was Rafael Caro Quintero's brother, the former head of the Guadalajara Cartel, now the minister of police in Yucatan City and the international distribution minister of the Sinaloa Group—Treodo Gentro.

"The Cabinet will find the murderer and bring him to justice!" Treodo Gentro said with a command-like tone and then left.

Inside the bedroom, the other high-ranking officials looked at each other, then dispersed like tide.

You'd have to be brainless to come to this puppet.

The detailed affairs had to be decided by the "Four Major Drug Trafficking Organizations!"

Gulf Group, Medellin Group from Colombia, the Golden Knights formed by local smalltime traffickers, and the Sinaloa Group, although the latter had been crippled and lost their haven, but their influence was still enormous.

And now Abrego was dead, such a huge slice of the power cake had to be filled, a bunch of people could hardly wait to start opening their gaping mouths.

Elvis Salinas's face turned livid, he grabbed an ashtray from the table and smashed it to the ground in anger, "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

Still a puppet...

If he wasn't backed by the CIA, he probably would have drunk a cup of poison by now.

The streets were filled with armed drug traffickers in military uniforms setting up checkpoints, not allowing any non-related vehicles to drive on the roads!

Three or four armored pickup trucks stopped in front of the Hilton Hotel in Cancun City, from which dozens of armed men disembarked, scaring the security guards into dropping their weapons and kneeling on the ground with their butts poked up.

"Sir… Sir," a male manager came running over, speaking in a small, flattering voice, "May I help you with something?"

The drug trafficker bearing the rank of captain looked at him, "We need to search every room."

The manager's face twisted, chuckling sheepishly, "That's not really appropriate, this place is full of tourists... it won't look good for our reputation."

The captain frowned and raised a hand swiftly.

Bang!

A bullet hit the forehead.

The male manager stared, falling to the ground.

"Ah!!!" The female receptionists behind screamed, hugging their ears and crouching on the ground, while a drug trafficker holding an AK began to shoot!

Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

The Mexican flag hanging on the wall was riddled with dozens of holes.

"Search!"

At the captain's signal, the drug traffickers, ferocious like wolves, rushed upstairs.

But most headed towards the luxury suites above, knowing that's where the wealthy were, where the spoils lay.

This was a bonus!

When a few drug traffickers burst into a suite costing 3420 US dollars per night, a scream was heard just as a couple was caught in an act by the window.