Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 872 - 464: "War determines everything!"_3

Clinton felt as though a massive stone was pressing on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Of course, he was fully aware of the "monopoly" and "infiltration" of capital within the United States.

But he couldn't have imagined...

That as the President of the United States, even he couldn't speak out, couldn't reprimand the CIA, couldn't curse the capitalists.

Even a dog can bark twice, can't it?

What an unbearable indignity!

"Find a way to make up the military salaries, and also ensure that supplies to the front line are not interrupted. Reagan's memorial service is none of your concern; I'll take care of it."

"Additionally, no soldier is allowed to surrender. Otherwise, they will all face a military tribunal, and their families will lose all U.S. welfare benefits!"

Angel Urena's face turned ashen upon hearing this "foolish command." "Sir, no, we can't issue this. Doing so will cause turmoil within the military..."

"The entire country is now under martial law. I am exercising my presidential powers! No need to consult Congress; just do as I say."

Clinton slammed the table!

He looked up and glanced at the Chief of Staff...

Hmm, this one doesn't have a significant background; he could be scolded a bit.

"The U.S. military will collapse!" Angel Urena shouted loudly.

But the other party didn't care; with a wave of his hand, he announced that everyone was dismissed and promptly walked away.

"Why? Why issue such an order?"

The Chief of Staff could already imagine how American soldiers at the front lines would perceive this order.

Their forces were never built upon honor and faith.

Angel Urena was well aware: the United States had built its military with powerful weapons, essentially a mercenary force.

It had only been a few decades since the Korean War, and there were still veterans on television urging the U.S. not to engage in conflict with the East.

The U.S. wasn't like South Korea, constantly revising its history. If necessary, they could just look at their war records for reference.

Winning with a favorable wind was easy, but turning the tide in adverse conditions was exceedingly rare!

Robert Gates glanced at the others, then shook his head, sighing deeply afterward. His own figurative house was on fire; he didn't have the capacity to worry about anything else.

Money...

What about the money?

If he couldn't come up with the military budget, would he be scapegoated and dragged out into the open?

At that thought, Robert's pupils contracted slightly. A trace of fear crept into him.

"What if... I fake an illness and retire?!"

The idea suddenly popped into his mind, but he was reluctant to give up his position.

It was a classic case of...

Bureaucracy!

In stark contrast to the chaos, mutual blame, and collective malaise permeating the United States, the atmosphere in Mexico seemed much freer by comparison.

Especially for Victor, who was positively elated!

Reagan's death had brought him a substantial windfall.

Ronald Wilson Reagan!

Male!

Years of service: 81!

Crimes: war crimes, murder charges, among others.

Participation in the 1983 Lebanese Civil War‌!

Invasion of Grenada that same year‌!

1986 airstrikes on Libya‌!

1987 attack on Iranian oil platforms‌!

1988 invasion of Honduras‌!

Resulting in nearly 500,000 people displaced, left as refugees!

Approximately 120,000 deaths were directly or indirectly caused by war.

Crime points: 3.36 billion!

Victor couldn't help but take a sharp breath as he stared at the string of numbers.

The six other generals who were killed weren't good people either and contributed nearly 200 million points combined, but when compared to Reagan, they were practically "saints."

Indeed, the harm inflicted by carnivorous rulers on civilians often surpassed that of drug traffickers.

In addition to war crimes, Reagan was also a member of the Bohemian Club, notorious for activities like live sacrificial rituals.

Within Reagan's biography, Victor discovered facts unimaginable to outsiders, such as...

Using baby oil to rub down his body to preserve eternal youth.

The "Hollywood President" naturally cared about his appearance...

Yet beneath the glamorous exterior, he was nothing short of a cannibalistic demon.

Victor understood that the world was far from pristine, but he hadn't expected it to be this sinister.

He rubbed his face vehemently...

"What a goddamned beast!"

But if just one Reagan had brought in so much, what if he took out other high-ranking officials...

The thought hovered in his mind, refusing to evaporate, only growing larger and more compelling.

Reagan was sure to have a memorial service...

All kinds of people would attend, and if he could ambush a few of them...

Victor's eyes sparkled as he clutched the phone. "Get me the Staff Department. I want General Horatio Herbert Kitchener, Edward Fritz Blomberg, and Helmut Mauqi to come and see me."

"Yes, sir!"

The voice on the other end replied promptly.

Victor was a man of great audacity. Without such courage, he would have been killed back when he was just a jail guard in prison.

He lit a cigarette for himself, raising it to the empty air.

"To Reagan!"

Knock, knock, knock~

At that moment, a knock echoed at the door. He called out an invitation to enter.

Casare, Goebbels, and Svilen Krosic all walked in. The latter was the one who had previously suggested to Victor the idea of "using weapons to secure Saudi investments and loans, as well as oil imports" in the Middle East.

Victor had now promoted him to Director of Currency Mintage and Issuance at the Treasury Department!

His task was to issue a new currency!

Mexico's current Peso...

Was no longer fitting for the nation's current circumstances.

Seeing them all arrive together, Victor's eyes lit up. "Is the new currency ready?"

Casare nodded vigorously and gestured for Svilen Krosic to open the box in his hands. "Boss, we've prepared five prototypes. We've named the new currency the Riyal, with denominations of 1, 5, 10, 50, and 100."

Victor stepped forward to inspect, finding both banknotes and coins lying inside, all of which were meticulously crafted.

"The 1 Riyal features an image of Mexico City."

"The 5 Riyal features a portrait of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla from the independence movement."

"The 10 Riyal showcases Mariana Avitia, a Mexican Olympic medalist."

"The 50 Riyal depicts Petra Ruiz, who, under the pseudonym 'Pedro Ruiz,' disguised herself as a man to join the Constitutional Army in 1913. Her exceptional combat skills and bravery earned her the respect of her comrades. Her stunning marksmanship and knife skills earned her the nickname 'The Bullet.'"

"The 100 Riyal features you, Boss."

Victor picked up the largest denomination. The portrait of himself depicted his profile, but his resolved and fearless expression was evident, which pleased him greatly.

"How's the anti-counterfeiting?"

"I've incorporated multiple measures, including color-shifting patterns, microtext, and hidden imagery. Counterfeiting it won't be easy," Svilen Krosic answered from the side.

"Not bad."

Victor nodded approvingly, looking at him. "When do you think is the best time to issue it?"

Svilen hesitated.

"Don't worry; just speak your mind."

"I believe the best time would be after the war ends. A stable regime is one of the prerequisites for issuing currency. There's also purchasing power to consider—if we defeat the United States, we can peg the Riyal to our domestically mined resources, oil, and gold prices, achieving more favorable exchange rates on the international stage."

Mexico wasn't truly a poor country; its gold reserves and production ranked among the top eight globally!

As for oil, there was no need to elaborate—it was 19th globally...

Its mineral resources also ranked among the best in the world.

If they won the war, everything rightfully belonging to Mexico would be reclaimed, and that would be the ideal moment to launch the new currency.

"War decides everything."

Victor exhaled deeply, his gaze profound.

If they lost, all of this would be in vain.

...

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