Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 753 - 419 Dad, there’s something wrong with my teacher!
753: Chapter 419: Dad, there’s something wrong with my teacher!
753 -419: Dad, there’s something wrong with my teacher!
Buzz~
The blaring of a ship’s whistle shattered the tranquility surrounding La Paz Port in Northern Lower California.
Early-rising fishermen noticed…
That the port was under lockdown!
No one was allowed near it—not even fishing boats, which were intercepted offshore.
The tighter the restrictions, the more curious it made everyone.
Standing 400 meters away on a hill overlooking the port, two men with binoculars observed the scene.
They saw three large roll-on/roll-off ships being guided into the dock by smaller lead boats.
“Look, trucks are entering the port,” said a blond man, pointing into the distance.
His companion, a Black man, turned to look.
Sure enough, about a dozen large transport trucks were moving in, resembling ants carrying supplies.
The trucks were covered with tarps, but for seasoned spies like them, what couldn’t they guess?
“Missiles?
Those are missiles!”
“What type?” the Black man asked nervously, his eyes practically glowing.
They were freelance spies—the kind who roamed the world, specifically targeting military locations to take photos and sell them for a profit.
The blond man adjusted the magnification on his M22G binoculars.
These were commonly used by the U.S.
Military during the Gulf War and didn’t come cheap.
Bark!
Bark!
Bark!
Suddenly, barking erupted from behind them.
The two men flinched, whipping around to see three Neapolitan Mastiffs charging at them.
“F***!”
The blond man shouted in fear, stumbling backward.
These massive dogs were terrifying—standing up, they were taller than an adult male, and even crouching, they reached waist height.
Panicked, he didn’t watch his footing and tumbled down the hillside!
The Black man fared no better.
Despite their athleticism, when he tried to run, one of the Mastiffs lunged at him, pinning him to the ground and sinking its teeth into his neck.
The dog tore out neck tissue, strands of muscle dangled from its bloodied teeth, giving it an almost Japanese look…
At that moment, seven or eight soldiers appeared, catching up from behind.
Working in pairs, they restrained the three Mastiffs.
Given those dogs’ appetites, they could easily devour a person in just a few bites.
“Captain, one man fell down the slope.”
“Search!
Dead or alive, we need to find him.” The team leader, an infantry lieutenant with a white insignia and a single star on his straight-shoulder epaulet, stared coldly at the steep, trampled incline below.
Since capturing Mexico City, Victor had implemented military reforms.
No more pretense—everything was openly modeled after the German Army.
White represented infantry, pink signified armored troops, and a single star on a straight-shoulder epaulet with a snake coiled around a staff indicated a lieutenant and military medic.
“Yes, sir!”
Three soldiers slid down the slope.
Catching spies came with rewards proportional to the threat the spies posed.
This applied to citizens and government personnel alike, with a minimum bounty of 2,000 US Dollars.
The suspicious behavior of these two had been tipped off by a fisherman.
The main issue was that the Black man stuck out too much.
If only they’d operated under cover of night, catching them would’ve been next to impossible.
The cargo being unloaded at La Paz Port was actually the first batch of 12 R-14 medium-range missiles.
“Prince Shahebut, this is Colonel Carl Dönitz.
He’ll be in charge of escorting these weapons to the United Arab Emirates,” said Mr.
Cuauhtémoc, both the country’s president and head of the Ministry of Military Commerce, while smiling and gesturing to a tall navy officer beside him, about 180 centimeters in height.
The officer saluted the Emirati prince.
His crisp posture and sharp gaze gave an immediate impression of competence and charisma.
“Appreciate your efforts, Colonel,” Prince Shahebut said warmly.
“Just doing my duty!”
Carl Dönitz commanded the Sea Cavalry 1st Division, Mexico’s only fully structured naval division.
With over 4,000 personnel, they were training for a year in preparation for missions on the high seas.
The mission?
Sailing under Mexico’s flag to visit the Middle East.
After a brief chat with the prince, the elderly visitor boarded a helicopter bound for the airport.
After all, at his age, it wouldn’t be reasonable to subject him to the month-long voyage on a ship, leaving only his younger relatives behind.
Cuauhtémoc waved cheerfully as the helicopter disappeared, projecting full emotional and diplomatic goodwill.
What could he do…
The plane arriving from the UAE had delivered 200 million US Dollars in cash…
With customers, patience and care are a must.
Cuauhtémoc pulled Carl Dönitz aside and handed him a letter.
“The general wrote this for you.
He’s granting you full discretion to act as you see fit in any situation.” Pausing briefly, he smiled and added, “He also asked me to remind you—don’t hesitate.
If anyone causes trouble, take them out!”
This journey would undoubtedly be challenging.
The Middle East was a powder keg, and Mexico suddenly dispatching a navy there would spark questions.
What would Israel think?
And what about its backer, the United States?
Someone was bound to get curious about the contents of those roll-on/roll-off ships.
Israel wouldn’t miss a chance to provoke…
The arrogance, savagery, and brazen nature of the Jews ran deep in their blood.
Carl Dönitz accepted the letter and nodded firmly, his expression calm.
“Loyalty!”
After patting the commander on the shoulder and giving a few more instructions, Cuauhtémoc left the port.
As the convoy rolled out, dozens of eyes watched from unseen corners, filled with a menacing intensity.
La Paz Port, the largest military port in the Mexican Navy, currently boasted nine docks and two airstrips.
B-24 bombers and F-14 jets were stationed nearby, and the facility was undergoing continuous expansion.
Victor envisioned it rivaling the U.S.
Navy’s Norfolk Naval Base.
A military facility like this—did you really think it wouldn’t attract attention?
Spies were everywhere!
Sometimes, it was hard to tell.
After all, no one wore a label identifying themselves as a spy.
Perhaps your downstairs neighbor of ten years was secretly working for an organization.
Still, those watching the heavily guarded gates could only withdraw their gazes, frustrated.
Inside the convoy, Cuauhtémoc rubbed his knee and frowned.
It ached sharply, especially with the weather signaling imminent rain—like a hammer pounding his bones.
Just then, the phone beside him rang.
His secretary answered it and handed it over.
“Sir, it’s your family calling.”
Rubbing his temple with his left hand, he picked up the phone with his right.
“Dad!” his son’s voice came through the line.
Cuauhtémoc’s lips curled into a slight smile, and his tone softened.
“What’s up, McClure?
How were your midterms?”
“Second in the grade!”
Hearing this, Cuauhtémoc’s expression brightened with a hint of pride.
For middle-aged men like him, children’s academic achievements were a significant concern, and this result was satisfying.
“Dad, listen…” McClure lowered his voice.
“I think there’s something off about my teacher—he speaks fluent Hebrew.”
Cuauhtémoc found this unremarkable and asked, puzzled, “So?
What’s the problem?”
McClure: “I think there’s something wrong.
Dad, can you investigate him?”
“Stop being ridiculous!”
“Your teachers go through rigorous vetting and background checks.
What kind of issue could there possibly be?”
At a school like his, filled with the children of high-ranking officials, even wealth couldn’t buy enrollment.
No problems should arise.
McClure, frustrated and scratching his head, pleaded, “Please, Dad, trust me on this.
Just investigate—it wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
Seeing his son’s insistence, Cuauhtémoc hesitated before sighing.
“Fine, I’ll notify the Intelligence Bureau.”
Before McClure could celebrate, his father scolded him harshly.
“You’re a student!
Focus on your studies and stop wasting time with nonsense.
If your grades aren’t up to par, I’ll beat you when you get home.”
“Yes, sir!
Mission accepted!” McClure responded enthusiastically, saluting over the phone.
After hanging up, he was surrounded by four or five classmates, all watching him expectantly.
“What did your dad say, boss?” asked a bespectacled boy with a large head and bright, intelligent eyes, visibly anxious.
“He agreed.
The Intelligence Bureau will step in.
George, I’m trusting you—if you’re wrong, we’re all in big trouble!” McClure said nervously to the bespectacled boy.
This boy was George Blake.
His father was a colonel in the Marine 4th Division, a high-ranking officer in the current government forces.
George had a personal dream: to become the King of Spies!
When he noticed something suspicious about their teacher, he approached McClure, the group’s leader, hoping he could influence his father.
“Alright, we’ll monitor her.
I trust you—if she’s guilty, we’ll take her down!” McClure said fiercely.
Looking at his gathered peers, he nodded with resolve.
“I remember Victor’s clique has a thing for the music teacher…” a quiet girl murmured.
“What if they try to stop us?”
“Then we’ll fight them!”
McClure raised a fist and growled, “We’re children of the military—are we supposed to fear some civilians?
One punch each!”
Clearly, the seeds of military-versus-civilian conflict had already sprouted among the youth.
“Alright.”
…
Behind one wing of the fortified National Palace was a heavily guarded private residence.
This was where Victor stayed, and where Krista Schroeder was also housed.
Victor cradled Caesar Napoleon Vieri—now eight months old—chubby and humming a little tune.
In that moment, he seemed more like a gentle father than the war-hardened general he was known to be.
“I heard you had a fever?
Take care of your health.
Don’t overwork yourself—there are people to take care of the baby,” Victor said, looking at Krista.
She was wearing a sheer silk robe that revealed the purple bra underneath.
Standing behind him, she placed her hand on his temple, then brushed down his shoulders.
“It’s fine; I’m much better now.”
The atmosphere was charged with intimacy.
Knock, knock, knock~
Just then, there was a knock at the door, followed by a maid’s soft voice.
“Sir, there’s an urgent matter downstairs.”
Victor snapped to attention.
“Alright, got it.”
He stood, handed the baby to Krista, and walked off.
Krista’s eyes showed a trace of disappointment but still nodded.
Men…
Once their pants are up, they’re hard to pin down.
Victor threw on a coat as he descended the stairs, where George Smiley was waiting.
Upon seeing him, George quickly approached.
“General, Hydra Intelligence reports an Independence Day plot to attack 17 cities across Mexico!”
…
