Between heavy eye bags, a prominent nose twitched repeatedly, inhaling various scents. Alejandro carefully distinguished them and used his hands to push off the ground, vaulting over the flower arrangement encircling the isolated garden.
On the ground, spent casings were scattered everywhere.
Alejandro picked one up, sniffed it before his nose, detecting the unmistakable smell of gunpowder.
Discarding the casing, his nose twitched again as he took a couple of steps forward and saw a broken piece of a cactus with some thorns stained with barely visible traces of blood.
He picked it up, examining it, and then smelled it. He nodded slightly.
Yes, this is the scent!
Matt Graves' face turned grim as he approached from the doorway, asking, "Any findings?"
Alejandro showed him the piece of cactus, saying, "His scent is on it."
A large number of Mexican police officers moved around the scene, and the scent had already been mostly destroyed, undetectable even by police dogs.
But for someone like Alejandro, tracking scents to find people was a natural instinct.
Matt Graves said, "I made a mistake, and I need you to help me correct it."
Alejandro asked someone nearby for a sealed container, placed the piece of cactus inside, and looked at Matt Graves.
"The officer we sealed off at the other intersection survived. After the attack, James mentioned on the radio that the assailant was Ronan from Churavista."
Matt Graves' face grew solemn as he pointed to the ground. "He attacked James' tactical team here alone and killed everyone, including James and Private Lynch."
Alejandro was curious, "Why would Ronan be with the princess? Wasn't he the one leading Carter's gang to overthrow the Morales gang supported by the Garcia group?"
Matt Graves replied, "There was a fire at a bar outside Mexico City, and someone saw Ronan leaving the bar with Jessica's agent, Pedro."
Alejandro flexed his wrist. "Taking down two of your subordinates alone is not something an ordinary person can easily do. What organization or force does he belong to?"
"I'm not sure," Matt Graves said, "but according to the survivor's account and the analysis of the scene, this person is highly skilled with a gun, possibly even better than Ian-Somos."
Alejandro nodded. "I remember you said Ian was the best shooter among the soldiers."
Matt Graves nodded in agreement.
Someone approached and whispered a few words.
Matt Graves shook his head. "Mobilize our forces, temporarily suppress them. Once the Mexican police go public, it will hinder our actions."
The person immediately responded and went to work.
Alejandro pointed to a young man nearby. "He will drive for me, and I need two others to coordinate with me. Matt, don't look at me like that. The Mexican border is crucial, and you still have people here."
He secured the container with the cactus, "We made a mistake once; let's not make another."
Matt Graves said, "They are just ordinary people."
Alejandro didn't mind. "The most dangerous part is his marksmanship. I need someone to cover me as I approach the target."
Matt Graves pulled out his phone and made a call. "Activate Number Two and Number Three."
In an ordinary neighborhood in Mexico City, an ordinary Latina grandmother received a call and immediately got busy.
No one would have thought that this stout middle-aged woman was actually a secret CIA employee.
...
"Daddy! Daddy!"
Inside a single-story wooden house in western Mexico, a child ran in with a football, waking up the bald policeman who was sleeping. "You should get up and go to work."
The bald man sat up and was about to speak when his pager beeped. He quickly picked it up to check.
The child put down the football and reached out to touch the AK rifle standing by the bed.
"Diego!" The bald man sternly reprimanded, "This is not something you should touch!"
The child quickly withdrew his hand.
The bald man gently patted his head and said, "Remember my words, Diego. Study hard and never touch guns in your whole life!"
The child didn't fully understand but could only respond, "I will remember, Daddy."
The bald man pointed outside and said, "Go play football."
The child picked up the football and ran outside, his innocent face showing no trace of worry.
The bald man watched his son and couldn't help but smile. Doing certain things and making some money, isn't it all for the sake of a better life for the family?
A woman's voice came from the dining room, "Silva, hurry up, it's time for dinner!"
After dinner, the bald man returned to his room, changed his clothes, prepared his pistol and magazines, and took the AK. He got into a police car, first called the police station to ask for leave, and then went to a nearby place with internet access. He logged into a website and found relevant information.
...
Meanwhile.
In an office building in the business district of Mexico City, Owen, dressed in a suit, saw a client off and shook hands with him. "Mr. Mendosa, thank you for choosing Earth Import and Export Company. It's been a pleasure working with you!"
The bald and chubby Mendosa smiled back, "It's been a pleasure!"
After seeing off the client, Owen returned to his office. He loosened his tie and calculated how much profit this deal could bring and how long it could sustain the company.
Suddenly, his pager rang.
Owen looked at it, opened his laptop, and logged into a website.
Quickly clearing his browsing history, he shut down the computer and went to a large safe. After entering the password, he took out a leather bag and a suitcase.
He put on the bag, held the suitcase, greeted his secretary, and drove off.
Owen was conflicted; after all, he was a businessman with a moderately successful career. But once you get involved in something, it's hard to step back. Leaving before it's time could mean paying the price with your life.
Nevertheless, Owen embarked on the journey without hesitation. It's better for others to die than for himself to die.
...
Leaving the town of Kali, they had to take a detour to get on the interstate highway.
The area here was vast and sparsely populated. The slightly remote roads could go half a day without seeing a single car.
Jessica put down the sun visor and adjusted her short black hair. She looked at Ronan, who was driving, and asked curiously, "You are the best shooter I've ever seen."
Ronan casually replied, "Just a natural talent."
Jessica asked, "You have decent conditions, why did you choose this line of work?"
Ronan said, "I had no choice."
"Hmm?" Jessica looked at him.
"No money." Ronan said matter-of-factly, "I wasn't good at studying, and we were poor. I had to use guns to make a living."
Jessica probed, "I have a proposal. Would you consider being my bodyguard long-term? I'm planning to go to Los Angeles next year, and I have a lot of fans in the United States."
Ronan honestly replied, "I'm good at catching and killing people, but I'm not good at protecting them."
Jessica thought about yesterday and today, "You did a great job protecting me."
Ronan fell silent. He didn't want to talk anymore. Once Antonio Garcia appeared, there would inevitably be hostility.
Jessica asked, "Why aren't you speaking anymore?"
"I'm just a bodyguard," Ronan replied.
In his original world, he wasn't one to say little, but after doing certain jobs repeatedly, he gradually spoke less.
Jessica understood the meaning behind his response but didn't want the conversation to end. "You can ask about my situation."
Ronan frowned slightly and asked casually, "Why did you become a singer?"
"I love singing," Jessica recalled Ronan's words and smiled, "and I have good talent too!"
Seeing Ronan didn't continue, she went on, "When I was fifteen, I participated in a singing competition that involved all of Mexico and won the championship! Impressive, right?"
Ronan responded, "Impressive!"
"Your answer sounds perfunctory," Jessica sighed, "Actually, it wasn't impressive at all. My father sponsored the competition with money from our family business. No matter how I sang, I was guaranteed to be the champion."
Thinking about the Garcia Group's main business, Ronan sighed inwardly. Jessica became a star through drug money support.
Jessica continued, "After that, I started my career as a singer—writing songs, recording albums, releasing singles, doing advertisements, appearing on shows, and holding concerts. My father is very wealthy, and I am his only daughter. My success today is not only due to talent but also because my father invested a lot of money in me."
"He loves you very much?" Ronan's question was probing.
Jessica smiled happily, "He loves me very much. In my eyes, he is the best father in the world."
Her smile faded, "But sometimes, I am also troubled because he can't always interfere with my career."
Then she smiled again, "Isn't it like being in luck and not knowing it?"
Ronan spoke honestly, "If I had a rich father, I would choose to go home and inherit the family fortune."
Hearing Ronan's serious response, Jessica asked, "Won't you strive for something?"
Ronan patted the gun in the middle of the seat, "That would lead to death."
The car continued driving, and in the afternoon, they arrived at a rest stop with a gas station and a convenience store.
Jessica asked, "Shall we take a break here? I need to use the restroom."
Ronan pulled Jessica and quickly encountered another robber. Jessica, being alert, immediately hid behind Ronan.
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