Working as a police officer in Mexico

Atlanta. Fulton County.

This is a place as small as a booger that is hard to find on the map.

But in the eyes of black Americans, this is a holy place!

Because the "greatest" fighter, Martin Luther King, was once active here.

Even though this person was suspected of plagiarism, had a dissolute private life, and violated the doctrine.

Just like the Mahatma blown up by the Indian brother, he served as a stretcher bearer for the British in South Africa, but people disliked his clumsiness. He was desperate to be a British, but because of his skin color, people did not accept him.

Then he thought of a set of non-violent non-cooperation...

Both of them were firm supporters of this slogan, but they died of violence in the end.

In a two-story building, the outer walls are a little mottled, and some places have even begun to peel off the wall glue. There is a portrait of Martin Luther King on the wall, and his eyes are looking into the distance.

And this is also the residence of his eldest son, Martin III.

Unlike his father.

He is a devout believer and goes to the choir every Thursday to pray for "Africans".

When his red Volvo drove to the parking space in front of his house, he got out of the car with his wife and was about to open the door when he heard the horn. Martin III turned his head in confusion and saw a police car parked on the side of the road. Two plainclothes policemen got out of it.

"Good evening, Mr. Martin." The leading white man looked at him and smiled, with his hands on his belt.

Martin III looked up and down at the other person, frowning, "Who are you?"

"Senior CIA agent, Augustus." The white man took out his ID and handed it over. Martin III took a look and felt a little relieved, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I want to consult you about something. Is it convenient?"

"Of course, please come in."

The white detective shook his hand and pointed to the police car, "Just chat in the car."

Martin III thought for a while and nodded, and said a few words to his wife next to him. The other party said worriedly, "Be careful," and took the child into the house.

The three walked to the police car, and another CIA opened the door. Martin III thanked them, but just as he sat in, before he could speak, a hand suddenly covered his mouth and violently pressed his head against the window. Senior agent Augustus took a 20-centimeter knife and stabbed him in the jaw!

Puff...

The blood splashed on the window. Martin III stared, his eyes stiffened, and the strength of his struggle disappeared, and he fell inside with his head tilted...

"Go!" Augustus and the other two abandoned the car and fled.

Martin III's wife, who had been staring at them by the window, was startled when she saw them running away, and then her face changed. She hurriedly ran out of the door. When she opened the car door, she saw Martin III, who was dead inside, and felt dizzy and cried loudly.

"Help! Help..."

Many people living nearby heard the news and came. When they saw Martin III stabbed in the neck, they were also shocked, but they hurriedly sent him to the hospital in a hurry.

But it was too late.

Martin Luther King's eldest son died!

This was big news. When the reporters who heard the news surrounded his widow at the hospital gate, she was already crying uncontrollably and fell into the arms of a relative with lifeless eyes.

But for American reporters, no matter who died, as long as they had news materials, they didn't see how happy these people were when Kennedy was stabbed?

Many tabloids were even teasing who could get Jacqueline.

"CIA!"

Martin III's youngest son, who was standing next to him, suddenly spoke, attracting everyone's attention. They looked over and saw him gritting his teeth.

"What did you say just now? Is it CIA? Is it the CIA of the United States?" A reporter asked excitedly.

The colleagues next to him all had shining eyes and held their breath.

"They killed my father! I saw it with my own eyes. Those bastards killed my father!!!"

Yeah!

The reporters almost jumped up with excitement. They surrounded the child and kept asking questions, and even led him to another angle, "Do you want revenge?"

The widow of Martin III jumped up, pushed the reporter away, and hugged her child tightly, "No, no, don't ask, don't ask."

But the mother's tears did not move the jackals.

They looked at the child eagerly.

"Of course! I must trample them viciously under my feet, I want revenge, I will kill them sooner or later!!"

Great...child.

The reporters took the materials and left directly with satisfaction.

Only the family members were left crying alone at the door...

The news capitalists added more copies overnight.

When the sun rose the next day, the news shocked the whole United States!

At the door of Martin III's house, a large number of black people began to gather!

In the square where Martin Luther King gave a speech, someone raised his arms and shouted angrily, "Gentlemen! America is killing us, killing freedom! Killing democracy!"

"Our leader is dead, died under dirty politics, and now, we failed to protect his son, Martin, our child, died in the hands of the CIA!"

The black man standing on the stage raised his hands excitedly, "We can't hide anymore! Gentlemen, ladies, children!"

"We should fight!"

"Let America and the world hear the voice of black people!"

"Fight!"

"Fight!"

The voices were getting louder and louder, the applause was getting more and more enthusiastic, and thousands of hands were raised in anger.

They began to gather in San Diego, causing riots!

On January 2, a demonstration broke out in Detroit, where the black population was the largest, and clashed with local police, and used Molotov cocktails to attack government agencies. The number of people exceeded 250,000. For a time, it could not be stopped. The Michigan National Guard intervened, but unexpectedly, there was a strong firepower among the blacks!

Including but not limited to AK47, and some heavy machine guns!

The riots gradually evolved into dissatisfaction with the US government.

On January 3, more than a dozen cities including Miami, Washington, Los Angeles, and Houston responded jointly, and more than 1 million blacks took to the streets, shouting the name of Martin Luther King.

Naturally, conflicts were also triggered.

A group of American blacks holding scorpion submachine guns rushed into Miami's City Hall and hijacked the bigwigs who were meeting inside.

In fact, anyone with a discerning eye can see that this demonstration is turning into a carnival for criminals!

The black gunmen who hijacked the city hall were not good people at all. They were a local African-American gang. They sold drugs, trafficked people, and even smuggled. They did everything.

They wanted to do something big this time. It was completely... brain stem deficiency.

Can you understand the imagination of black people?

Do you think this is a chance to become famous?

That night, the US SWAT raided the city hall and killed 11 robbers inside. Miami began to implement full martial law.

On January 5, the whole country fell!

Although black people in the United States are a minority, there are still millions of them. What is the vast ocean? This is it!

At this time, Langley, the CIA office.

The new director, Stanfield Turner, had a serious face and wore a military uniform. He looked very serious, and even his hair seemed to be standing at attention.

This is the second time I have stayed in Langley!

He served as the successor of George H.W. Bush from March 9, 1977 to January 20, 1981. He did a good job during his tenure. After all, those years were really when the Soviet Union was fighting all over the world. He was able to maintain operations during this period and was not killed by the KGB. Of course, he was a good hand.

After the death of two CIA directors, George H.W. Bush finally couldn't sit still. He personally invited Stanfield Turner back and let him take charge to calm the growing dissatisfaction within the CIA.

He was also an admiral and had a good relationship in the military.

"As soon as I took office, I was given a big gift." He muttered to himself. Several CIA executives sitting opposite looked at each other, moved their butts, and were a little restless.

"Who is the CIA who killed that black guy? Have you found him? Where is his intelligence?" He asked three questions in a row, making the deputy director in charge of personnel sweat profusely. He stood up quickly, "Director, the person ran away. We found out that it was Augustus from the third team and another employee named Kenya. Augustus has been in the CIA for six years. He has been working diligently. This... we can't think of this."

"Six years..."

Director Stanfield Turner exhaled, "Why would a six-year employee kill a black man? Don't tell me about his political inclinations. Have you investigated his intelligence?"

The deputy director shook his head awkwardly.

"Then what are you doing sitting there? Do you want me to arrange a job for you? You idiot, go and find out his interpersonal relationships." Stanfield Turner got angry and picked up an ashtray and threw it at him, scaring him so much that he ran out in a panic.

"I'll give you three days. If you can't find any problems, I'll solve you as a problem. Get out!"

The other people responded quickly and ran out in embarrassment.

Standing at the door, they looked at each other and sighed at the same time.

"This tyrant..." A deputy director couldn't help but complain.

"Shh, you don't want to die, stop talking nonsense, I'll send you to collect the pond when the time comes, let's go!"

Stanfield Turner certainly understood how his subordinates would scold him, but he couldn't care. He came to work, not to socialize. You have to let these rubbish know who is the boss.

He frowned, holding an analysis report in his hand. All black people in the country were "engulfed". The most ideal economic losses would be as high as tens of billions, and even many people would die!

Based on his decades of experience in intelligence work, there must be a pair of pushers behind this riot!

The air was filled with the smell of opponents.

Who?

KGB?

When he thought of this name, he also had a headache.

The Soviet Union looked like it was going to die, but the CIA still didn't dare to provoke the KGB too much. Why? Those people were all crazy.

The Soviets don't know how to fight, but they... are not afraid of death.

But he shook his head again. Such fanning work is too delicate, and it is not the rhythm of the Soviets at all. Director Stanfield Turner suddenly flashed a place in his mind.

Mexico! ?

"Could it be him?"

...

A garbage dump in Mexicali, Mexico!

Augustus, who led the black riot, was sitting in the office with a little fear.

They finally escaped!

God knows how much they suffered.

They got on the garbage truck and came to the border. They were almost vomited. Now it is said that the country is looking for them!

Augustus felt a little regretful.

Squeak~

The office door was pushed open from the outside. The two people looked over in surprise and saw a man wearing sunglasses walking in, followed by people, all of whom were very capable.

"Mr. Augustus?"

The man took off his glasses, revealing a pair of square eyes. He also smiled and stretched out his hand, "Augustine Przewczyr, Director of the Foreign Military Intelligence Bureau."

Augustine quickly stretched out his hand to shake his hand.

"You... I have done everything you asked me to do. Where is the money?" He asked nervously.

Augustine Przewczyr looked behind him and saw a subordinate carrying a bag and throwing it on the ground, making a dull sound.

"A total of 300,000 US dollars!"

"There is also a check for 400,000 US dollars in it. You can go and get it when the time comes."

Augustine couldn't wait to squat down and unzip it. Sure enough, there was Franklin's face inside. He happily kissed the check.

Why be a spy?

For money!

700,000 US dollars, how long will it take him to work just relying on his salary? Don't be fooled by the fact that he sounds good as a senior agent, he is actually just an errand boy!

With this money, it's no problem for him to kill a black man!

"Here are your passports and plane tickets. We have prepared a mansion for you in the Maldives."

Augustine Przewczyr took out two books from his arms and handed them over.

"Thank you, thank you!" Augustus said hurriedly, reaching out to take it, but he couldn't pull it. He raised his head in confusion, "Sir?"

"You won't tell anyone, right?"

Augustine was startled, but then he patted his chest, "Of course! I have a moral bottom line!"

Augustine Przewczyr nodded and looked at him, "I don't believe it."

After that, he turned around and left.

Augustine and the others were startled, and suddenly saw the two men standing at the door walked in, took out guns from their arms, and in their confused eyes, snapped...

Cleared the magazine inside!

"Find a garbage to clean the stove and deal with the body."

The person in charge of the garbage dump next to him nodded hurriedly, "Leave it to me."

Augustin Przewczyr nodded, got into the car and left the garbage dump under the protection of the bodyguard.

This is on the border, so when the car drove over, you can see the United States on the other side at a glance. Outside the temporary steel wire, you can see scattered people crawling inside.

The United States is too dangerous!

Some people still understand that returning to Mexico can at least have food to eat.

Over there...

I don't know when I will be hacked to death by the local white gangs.

Mexicali is close to Calexico, California. This city is an active territory of the Aryan Brotherhood. The riots of Mexican drug dealers and refugees have affected their interests. Of course, they have to suppress them!

In the past, there was basically a gunfight every two days, but now there is almost one every day.

It's terrible...

They are coming back!

But can you come and go as you please in Mexico?

There are patrols on the border. When they see someone smuggling, they will shoot directly.

As expected…

Augustin Przewczyr had just discovered it when he saw an off-road Hummer coming from a distance. It was written on it: Border Police. The Hummer was equipped with a heavy machine gun, shooting at the illegal immigrants climbing the wire!

There were quite a few people gathered below, and they ran away as soon as they heard the gunshots.

Only a few bodies were left.

If I had known this, why did I do it in the first place?

Augustin Przewczyr looked at all this calmly.

The mobile phone next to him rang, and he picked it up, "Hello."

"Director, we found the traces of the KGB!"

"Soviet? What are they doing in North America? Is he lost?" Augustin Przewczyr raised his eyebrows.

"We held him down, but this man said he wanted to see you and claimed that he had something you wanted."

"What was it?"

"He refused to tell you and would only tell you when he saw you."

Augustine Przewczyr's face turned cold, "Then break his teeth. I hate the Riddler the most."

"If it doesn't work, let him try our other dishes and he'll tell you."

He hung up the phone.

What kind of person wants to see him?

Bah!

Just two minutes later, the phone rang again. Augustine Przewczyr answered the call and heard an excited voice from the other end, "Director, he confessed!"

"So fast?"

"I broke his teeth and made him swallow them back."

Hmm...

Good tricks.

"What's in his hand?" The director was very curious about this question.

"He has a list of Soviet spies in 10 countries including Britain, the United States, France, and Germany!"

Augustine Przewczyr's eyes lit up.

Shit!

"Keep an eye on him, don't let him die, I'll be back soon."

This is a big fish!!

……