138. Procession in Mexico City

Mexico City, Plaza de la Constitución. Ten o'clock in the morning.

The badge on the chest of the young policeman Sanchez has four letters: SWAT. Walking down the street with his companions, the vest in his police uniform was soaking wet and the belt was heavy, and he felt that the automatic rifle hanging diagonally on his chest was a burden, and Sanchez wanted to throw it away, but it did serve a threatening role. However, Sanchez also knew that if it was in Juraez, the weapon on his chest would become the trophies of the gang at any time. Mexico City is safer and quieter, and air pollution isn't just a word for Juarez, it seems to be the same everywhere in Mexico.

I don't know whether to thank God or curse God, Sanchez's last "job" in Colima turned out to be to save the life of drug lord Garner. Of course, Ghana's status on the television is that of a large corporation, although in police stations and some secret units, Ghana's files should be crammed into a set of five-metre by two-metre filing cabinets. A righteous pull of the trigger from Sanchez was a chance to move himself from the hail of bullets in Colima to the relative safety of Mexico City.

What an irony of fate.

If it had been possible, Sanchez had hoped that he would not have been there that day, Ghana would probably have lost his life and the drug lord would have been a thing of the past. In particular, how could Tina, who has always been hearty, lively, beautiful and moving, be Ghana's daughter? Why did it become so decadent?

His girlfriend, Corne, finally broke up with him the day before she left Colima. Dressed in Chanlais and wearing Patek Philippe, with a muscular and indifferent bodyguard standing next to her, she cried in front of her second Ferrari, saying that her father wanted Sanchez to quit his job and work in his business, otherwise death would not allow the two of them to be together. Sanchez calmly pondered the cause and effect, and finally kissed Knelle on the forehead, then turned away.

He realizes that he doesn't love Kernier as much as he thought he would, just as Kneil never knew herself. For Cornelle, meeting a young, handsome, and strong cop at a bar is just a thing to brag about in front of her girlfriend. Sanchez is young, but not stupid, on the contrary, very smart. Romeo Juliet's story is just a legend, since he chose to be a police officer, he can't be sorry for the word policeman. The word justice is vague and funny in this place, but Sanchez still hopes that he can do true justice.

There was a march of people in the square, holding signs with large letters in various fonts - "Leave me a little oxygen!" "Human fur can be draped on the body of wild beasts", "Love is genderless......", what is the mess, it was originally an environmental parade, but it turned into a game of boring people, with sexy beauties holding signs to protect animals with their upper bodies exposed, and environmentalists splashing green paint on their bodies, is the paint environmentally friendly? Partially gender if naked?

Standing on the side of the street and letting the marchers cross the street, Sanchez saw a few sneaky figures also mixed in with the procession of the marchers, apparently pickpockets, or gangsters who took the opportunity to rub oil on women, and someone saw Sanchez's sharp eyes and looked over, so he pretended to raise his hands and shout a few times. Sanchez wanted to catch the guys and beat them up, but the captain said that he couldn't catch anyone in the parade.

That's nothing more than a bunch of fanatical guys who indiscriminately oppose everything in uniform, especially the police, and most of the time, they themselves don't know what they're against.

"What are you looking at, Sanchis?"

The colleague next to him, Bamende, is a few years older than Sanchez, only 170 centimeters tall, but as strong as a bear, the police uniform on his body is tightly taut on Bamende's body, the boxy head is wearing a large sunglasses, the lips are wrapped in a thick beard, and the top of the head is bare and shiny. With his hand on the handle of his pistol, he sullenly asked his new colleague — nominally his subordinate, whose rank was one step higher than Sanchez's.

"Nothing."

"These are chili noodle synthetics, they fall apart when touched, and they choke." Barmen grinned, raised his hand and pushed away a drunk man who stumbled over, wrinkling his nose.

"So what's the use of us wearing this suit and holding a weapon? A warning to the common people? Or a stray dog? Sanchez replied, not without sarcasm.

"Take your time." Bamende dangled through the crowd.

An addict stood across the street by a dilapidated car, yawning wearily and looking out in hope, one hand caressing the top of his head, the eye of the needle on his exposed arm clearly visible. All of his cells were trying to figure out how to turn on the car, oblivious to a SWAT team coming towards him.

Bamen walked out of the queue, crossed the street, walked straight to the addict's side, raised his hand and patted the brother on the shoulder, but his hand was too strong or the addict was too weak to help the wind, and was slapped by Bamende's left hand, and the addict almost spread on the ground, but he immediately saw who was in front of him, and couldn't help but smile.

Sanchez walked as he surveyed the situation on the other side. He saw Bamende groping with his hands on his body, as if he had pulled out a few banknotes and handed them to the addict, who seemed to be a little dissatisfied, and opened his mouth to twitter and not know what to say. And Bamende raised his hand again, and the addict quickly ran away.

A minute later, Bamen walked in front of Sanchez's right again, and he knew what Sanchez wanted to ask, and raised his thick palm to touch the top of his bare head, "This is one of my former informants." ”

"Huh? Then if you give money like this, won't you kill him? Sanchez asked in a low voice.

"You say that a person like him, what is the value of his life or death?" Barmen's voice was calm, with a sneer in his eyes.

Sanchez didn't ask any more questions.

In Sanchez's eyes, criminals are criminals, how can criminals still be human beings? An informant or something, a person who sells himself for a living should not live in this world, and he will also go to hell after death.

……

On the north side of Syntagma Square is the Archbishop, the largest Catholic church in Latin America, and on the steps paved with basalt and gray sandy stone, a few people in local costume really whisper about it. Entering the main door along the steps, the large altar in the depths of the nave is covered by a typical Renaissance circular vault with many richly decorated arches and various relief paintings, and in the side naves that cross the nave, there are many small altars and several chapels, the most beautiful of which is the Baroque royal altar.

The girl walked slowly through the church, one hand in her pocket, the other hand trembling with some nervousness, her golden slightly curly hair casually draped over her shoulders, but the lower part of her face was wearing a mask, revealing only a pair of blue eyes as blue as the ocean, and a slightly sad look. She carried a hiking backpack, a brown T-shirt and a purple jacket on her upper body, and a pair of jeans with long straight legs.

The girl stood at the door of the small royal altar, hesitated for a moment, closed her eyes and prayed reverently. The priest who walked past her did not disturb her, and quietly bypassed the girl and entered the chapel. When the girl had finished praying, she turned and walked along the path towards the nave, and without stopping any longer walked along the corridor towards the gate, where out of the corner of her eye she could see the priest's black gilded robe flashing in the corner.

The procession was passing through the square in front of the Cathedral and the girl was standing still, her blue eyes full of contempt. In her education and the way she has formed her own mind, this form of parade is better called a "game", like two neighbors arguing over their pets going to the toilet. It's just that the girl began to smile bitterly after thinking for a second - she is also confused now, why should she criticize others again. Freedom is not just a formality, it is a belief.

But at that moment, his world had collapsed. I thought that after leaving Columbia, what happened over there - gunfights, chases, ....... Bullets whizzed past his ears, the filthy man's cold hands invaded his clothes, and the still hot blood dripped down his face, ...... the breath of the man with ordinary features but firm eyes ....... All of that will no longer appear in my life, it is a nightmare and a dream, a ...... I forget but want to remember.

The gunfire of the city of Huaruiz, the ...... of the gunmen in the helmets, crackling like firecrackers on the bullets in the carriages....... The violent eyes of the father flashed in an instant, and the attitude of the police and agents towards the father ....... His world collapsed in an instant, wasn't his father a business owner? Isn't it a middle-aged man who looks at himself like an angel? Why is the father in their mouth cruel and bloody, it seems that all the ugly words in the world are not enough to describe the sins of the father. They say they have a brother, but where is the brother? I've never seen it before.

The dream of going to school in London did become a dream, and after that incident, my father was even more determined not to let himself leave. Then don't go, at least not now, those strange things are tangled in your mind, waiting for the day when the mystery will be solved.

Until I saw the photo on the desktop in my father's study, it was an ordinary ID photo, but the person in the photo, that face, warm eyes, broad forehead, and resolute chin were all kissed and carved into my bones. She saw the text on the back of the photo, combined with the background of the father they were talking about, and in an instant sent the girl to hell.

The girl's eyes suddenly lit up, and she saw the group of policemen, and saw that there was a person in them, a high school classmate, and when she saw him again in Wallez the other day, it was a policeman with an automatic rifle against the killer.

How did he end up here?

The girl weaved through the crowd, walked up to the front of the group of policemen, stood still, and shouted softly.

"Hi, Sanchez."

Sanchez looked at the girl wearing the mask in front of her in confusion, and the girl suddenly remembered, so she raised her hand to take off the mask, revealing a high nose, round cheeks, and plump lips.

"Hi, Tina?" Sanchez grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the sun.

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