After a night's rest in Washington, D.C., before dawn the next day, Jack and Jane flew to El Paso on BAU's Gulfstream.

Two years ago, when Jack had just left the LAPD, he took a road trip along Interstate 10, and many stories happened along the way, and the silver flask that he still carries in his arms is a keepsake from the beginning of that trip.

In addition to this souvenir, Jack also had a cowboy hat that he bought later when he passed by El Paso, so he still has some impressions of the city.

A river divides it into two sides, one side is El Paso, which belongs to the United States, and the other half, called Ciudad Juarez, which belongs to Mexico.

In El Paso, on the American side, the buildings are neat and orderly, and although the roads are slightly old, they are always maintained, and everything seems to be in order.

On the other side of the river, beyond the long border wall, is Ciudad Juárez, which is like a slum, not much different from it.

At one point, the city's population of 1.3 million was once 1.3 million in this 188-square-kilometre area, and more than 7,000 people died each year in murder at the height of law and order.

Of course, this is only official data, and given the level of incompetence of the local police, this death toll is conservatively estimated to be at least doubled, and all thanks to drugs.

Since the cheap and high-quality agricultural products of the United States destroyed the local cultivation industry in Mexico, except for the poison, Mexican farmers can no longer grow enough food to feed their families, and it has to be said that the "merit of NAFTA" is immeasurable.

As the saying goes, there must be a cause, and it didn't take long for Mexico to blow the horn of a "counteroffensive" when the U.S. agricultural giants easily crushed Mexican farmers and occupied the entire Central American food market.

At the height of trade in a particular commodity between the two countries, the United States consumed 60 percent of the world's drug production, of which 96 percent of the big man, 87 percent of the cocaine and 90 percent of the white flour came from Mexico.

In the end, Mexico, a poor country in the Americas, forced the world's largest developed country next door to declare the legalization of Dama in various states in the country, which was able to stop this "shameless" dumping behavior.

A few hours later, Gulf Stream landed at a small military airfield near El Paso, and Jack's Saabban was waiting on the tarmac early.

"Welcome, did you have a smooth journey?" Matt Graffer leaned against the front of the car and waved leisurely to the two of them, like old friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time.

"Okay." Jack and Jane shook his hand, and two more people spun out from behind the car, to someone's heart, because they both had a familiar face on their faces.

The one on the left is tall and thin, with a very shabby appearance, and at first glance he looks a little like a Canadian actor who plays the role of "Little", that is, Deadpool.

Although he now wears glasses and a mustache, Jack recognizes him at a sight as the protagonist of the American drama "Fire Line Warning" or "Why Fire Me", which tells the story of an unlucky agent.

There is another one that is even more familiar, although now this one looks haggard, dead, and a little fat, and his figure is seriously out of shape, but the original actor once played Che Guevara on the big screen, but unfortunately the actor's name Jack can't be remembered.

It seems that eighty percent has melted into the movie again, with three familiar plot faces in a row, Jack has a bit of a big head, and he knew that he should have taken a little time to watch American dramas to watch niche movies.

After all, those unit dramas can only retain the impression of the characters after watching one episode and forgetting one episode, and after watching a movie, you can at least remember some of the story synopsis.

"This is my birdhound, Alessandro." Matt Graffer first introduced the middle-aged man who had been blessed.

"He's a consultant hired by DHS to deal with drug cartels."

The two sides shook hands, and Alessandro, though dressed in a crumpled cheap suit, with messy hair and a scruffy face, was quite serious and serious, in contrast to Matt Graffer's demeanor.

"This is my old buddy Michael Weston, who has just returned from Syria, and he will be my deputy on this mission."

Matt Graffer grinned and hooked Michael Weston's shoulder and said, "The two of them look like a dog."

After introducing the two, he turned to introduce the two FBIs to his side, "This baby-faced lady killer is Jack Tawolle, this is uh. I'm sorry. ”

Jane smiled and took the initiative to extend her hand to the two of them, "Jane Banner, it's a pleasure to meet you. ”

"Wait a minute, you're Jack Tawolle? That Jack Tawolle? Michael Weston had the same look of surprise as Matt Graver yesterday.

Jack nodded with a smile, feeling that he had really become a celebrity, at least a celebrity in a small circle.

"Haha, that's interesting, damn Matt, I'm going to help me explain to this old fellow, it's not that he didn't want to save you in the first place, you know, the rainforest is like his grandmother's tutu to him, and he won't take the initiative to burrow into that place unless he has to.

Don't shoot him in the back because of that, of course, I can understand if you do, after all, I wanted to do it for a long time. Michael Weston gloated.

"Shut up, you bastard, get out of the driver." Matt Graffer kicked him in a false way, and the two middle-aged men were fighting like two teenage high school students.

Alessandro opened the car door for Jane, who was very gentlemanly on the side, and Matt Graffer sat in the passenger seat.

After getting into the car, Matt Graffer patted the glove box and turned back to Jack in a slightly teasing tone.

"The car was delivered here this morning by a rookie, I'm sorry I checked the trunk without consent, are you going to go to Juarez and kill everyone in that city?"

Jack was a little speechless, he just prepared some tactical equipment, there may be one or two small killer weapons in it that are not too harmonious, but how can this guy describe it so exaggeratedly.

"It's just a courtesy, Mr. Graffer, after all, they're shooting 6 RPGs at my house."

"Just call me Matt, but I would advise you to use it sparingly, after all, we're going to bring it back alive this time, not a pile of hard-to-piece corpses." Matt Graffer was still joking, but he had something to say.

"Okay Matt, it's all up to your plan, but you might have to trouble finding a place to store it." Jack is as good as he is, and he doesn't plan to run around with such a cart of munitions at the beginning of the mission.

But he was going to drive the car, which was Emily's intention, and she had built such a bulletproof version of the Saab class for foreign affairs through her own connections, and perhaps the relationship of her diplomat mother.

The RPG may not be able to bear it, but it will definitely hold on for a few seconds under the direct fire of the AK, giving Jack enough time to react.

The car drove through a long runway, past neatly lined Black Hawk helicopters, through a gate, and into a complex surrounded by barbed wire.

Thank you for the monthly ticket support of book friends, everyone is really good to me, this activity has sucked the monthly pass of many books to the top stream, resulting in this book in the monthly pass list with everyone's support for many days, although it is only the end of the top 500, but I really want to rely on it in the future, hey, hey~~~

(End of chapter)