The Time I Declared War on Crime in South America (2)
I was left utterly dumbfounded by the report from Lucio, who had recently been promoted to Director of Intelligence.
Three employees of Tortilla Seafood were dead.
"I don't understand. Seafood employees getting shot to death? What the hell happened?"
"They were confirmed to have been gunned down while riding home from work together. The report came from a fellow Seafood employee. By the time they were found, they were already deceased."
"......"
This was entirely plausible. What were the three great specialties of Central and South America, after all? Coffee, narcotics, and gangs. Naturally, San Marcos had several gangs of its own, and as an island nation sitting close to the United States, it was famous as a transshipment hub for drugs. They were merely keeping their heads down because martial law had been declared.
Even if I were lying through my teeth, I couldn't claim San Marcos had good public safety.
So I'd assumed this was just an ordinary(?) robbery-homicide...
"This is still in the realm of speculation, but it appears the gangs have specifically targeted Tortilla Seafood employees."
"What?"
Things were unfolding in a far more complicated way than I'd expected.
"And the reason they were targeted?"
"San Marcos has long been famous as a layover point for narcotics."
"I'm aware of that."
Colombia, the source country, was a thousand kilometers away by sea, and Key West, Florida—the southernmost tip of the United States—was only a hundred and fifty kilometers off. Disguise a fishing boat, toss the cargo in the middle, pick it up on the other end. Done. With the overland routes through Mexico into the United States under increasingly thorough surveillance, this was emerging as the optimal distribution channel.
"The late President Juan cracked down hard on drug offenders so the product wouldn't circulate domestically—but in reality, half of the gangs' income should be considered to come from the intermediate distribution of narcotics."
"......"
"However, once martial law was declared and border surveillance was tightened, that route was cut off. For the gangs, half their income vanished overnight."
"So you're telling me they pulled this insane stunt because of martial law?"
"Gangs are, at their core, groups assembled to make money. Their pockets were running dry, and then rumors spread that Tortilla Seafood employees were earning high salaries. They were bound to become targets."
"Then why kill them? They could've just taken the money."
"They likely killed them to leave no witnesses. Commit a violent crime during martial law and you can't escape a heavy sentence."
"Hah... Whoever they are, these people haven't got a lick of sense when it comes to the law."
San Marcos is a country that still maintains the death penalty. Shooting three people dead in a country like that—these guys were complete lunatics.
"Have their guts spilled right out of their bellies?"
"They probably thought they wouldn't get caught."
"Is that so?"
"If you look at the cause of death attached to the report, they aimed for the carotid artery, the heart, and the head."
"Five shots, three dead... Professionals."
"Yes. This doesn't look like the work of someone who's only done it once or twice."
"You seem to know a great deal about gang habits, Director Lucio."
Lucio nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"My late father was the boss of a storied gang that had existed since colonial times."
"......"
"Of course, I have no connection to them now. After my father died in a turf war, everyone scattered, and my mother and I fled to my aunt's house in the United States to escape retaliation."
"I... I see."
"Even now, just thinking about those days makes my blood run cold."
A sigh escaped Lucio as the painful past surfaced, and he asked,
"Please give me your orders on how to handle this. The SIA agents and I will carry out your command to the best of our ability."
"...I'll need to think about this first. Director Lucio, I want you to monitor the gangs' movements."
"Yes, sir."
Watching Lucio's back as he saluted once and left, I thought:
Why is there never a quiet day around here?
After Lucio left, I summoned Isabella and Pedro and asked for their opinions on how to handle it.
Their views were crystal clear.
"We must thoroughly investigate the incident, apprehend the perpetrators, and punish them. We need to use this opportunity to demonstrate the terror of the law."
"Don't worry about catching the culprits. If we take the martial law troops and raid their headquarters, something's bound to turn up no matter what."
Catch the perpetrators immediately. And if a fight broke out in the process of catching them, they looked ready to wipe the gangs out entirely.
In a way, it was a natural opinion. They had dared to commit murder while martial law was in effect.
However...
There's no guarantee we'll actually catch the real culprits that way.
San Marcos doesn't have as many CCTV cameras as Korea. No—it has fewer cameras than the average country. It's a developing nation without money, after all. Naturally, there would be limits to finding the perpetrators, and even if we got lucky and ran into them somehow, finding evidence would be difficult.
Just ignore the evidence and slap them with a guilty verdict? That's possible. This isn't Korea, after all.
But what if they weren't the real culprits? What if we caught the wrong people and executed them? Then we'd just have killed innocent people.
So I raised this point, but...
"Even if that happened, it would just be one gang wiped out. From a national standpoint, that would be a completely inconsequential death."
"Isabella is right. Your Excellency need not concern yourself with the lives of vermin like them."
The two of them had no concept of human rights whatsoever.
No, what the hell is a "completely inconsequential death" supposed to mean? This isn't a video game.
Of course, three people were dead, so we did need to catch the perpetrators. You couldn't torch the whole cottage to catch a single bedbug—but you also couldn't refuse to make the sauce just because you were afraid of maggots.
So I thought, and thought some more.
It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer.
Like the words of William Blackstone—that even if ten guilty men went free, not a single innocent person should be made to suffer—I wanted to catch the culprits without laying hands on the wrong people.
They say the moment of enlightenment arrives all of a sudden, don't they?
This is it...!
I had found the perfect method—one that would protect human rights and establish public order at the same time.
SIA Intelligence Director Lucio's steps were light as he headed for the underground strategic situation room of the Ministry of National Defense, summoned by Eugene.
Walking down the worn corridor, he recalled his wretched past.
Corsarius. The largest gang in San Marcos, and the ones who had killed his father. To him they were not some abstract threat. They were the very reality that had torn his childhood to shreds, and the thirst for revenge was the driving force that had dragged him all the way here from the United States.
Trash.
And now he stood as a leading figure in the SIA, at the very heart of a new power that would sit in judgment of them. Having placed the report of the gangs' atrocities at the head of the table, he had not the slightest doubt that Eugene, the sovereign of San Marcos, would order a bloody purge.
He'll make a decision. I'm certain of it.
And he was more prepared than anyone to faithfully carry out that order.
Sitting there with that expectation, the heavy iron door opened, and the absolute ruler of San Marcos appeared. Flanked by Isabella, the power behind the administration, and Pedro, the strongest man in the military, he entered the conference room with cold eyes.
When Lucio stood before them and saluted, the air in the room seemed to freeze in an instant.
"Director Lucio arrived first, I see."
The quiet voice sent a further chill down Lucio's spine.
"I've given this some thought..."
Once everyone was seated, Eugene spoke.
"We'll continue tracking the perpetrators, but separately from that—what if we tried rehabilitating the people in the gangs?"
"...Excuse me?"
Lucio, who had been expecting a bloody purge, doubted his own ears. Rehabilitate them? How were they supposed to rehabilitate the nation's garbage—people who made their living off drug trafficking, illegal prostitution, even human trafficking?
"They distributed drugs to make money, didn't they? And this incident, too, was probably something that happened because they were struggling to get by. So the state should take some degree of responsibility."
"Taking responsibility... you mean giving them jobs?"
"Yes."
At Eugene's answer, Lucio began to feel a flicker of anger. The state taking responsibility for crime? That was the kind of thing Nordic politicians would say.
"If we give them jobs where they can earn money stably, they won't do gang work, and public safety will naturally improve, won't it? Moreover, if we put them to work in one place while investigating, I believe we'll identify the culprits quickly."
But Eugene paid no mind to Lucio's reaction, explaining with a bright smile.
Pedro couldn't hold it in and let out a cough.
"Ahem...! Then what sort of jobs were you thinking of providing..."
"I understand there's quite a lot of unused land in San Marcos's Central Basin. I've heard the farming conditions aren't bad..."
Eugene trailed off for a moment, then the corners of his mouth lifted as he explained.
"What if we relocate the gangs there and have them grow corn? We'll pay them the average wage of coffee plantation workers."
"......"
In that instant, the temperature in the conference room seemed to drop ten degrees. Isabella's eyes flew wide with shock, then transformed into a reverence that bordered on a thrill. Major General Pedro drew a ragged breath. And Lucio froze where he sat.
The Central Basin?
As Director of the SIA, there was no way he wouldn't know that place. A living hell that boasted temperatures exceeding 40°C for eight months of the year. A land that preserved San Marcos's primitive ecosystem in its raw state, without so much as a single road, let alone electricity.
They were going to shove the gangs into a place where human beings absolutely could not live, and make them farm corn? And pay them nothing more than the average farm laborer's wage of less than a hundred and fifty dollars?
This... this... was not rehabilitation. It was a Gulag that had no business existing in the twenty-first century.
Realizing this, Lucio felt a shudder course through his entire body. Exploiting the labor of those who opposed the state until they died. This was a thought at which even Satan himself would shake his head.
Th-this man... is a demon!
While Lucio trembled in fear, Eugene looked at Isabella and asked,
"What do you think? Raise the food self-sufficiency rate, wipe out the gangs. Two birds with one stone, no?"
"I-I have no objections."
"There'll be some resistance at first. That's why I'll need Commander Pedro's help."
"D-don't worry, Your Excellency."
Eugene finally looked at Lucio.
"And, Lucio."
Meeting those cold eyes, Lucio swallowed without meaning to.
"Y-yes."
"The only person who can help these two is you, Lucio. May I ask this of you?"
"O-of course, Your Excellency!"
Meeting Eugene's unwavering gaze, Lucio felt his pant leg grow a little damp.