In the evening, on the third floor of the Empire’s Night nightclub, Heller sat in his favorite boss chair.
He was still dressed the same: tea-colored sunglasses, a floral shirt, and a light-colored jacket. He seemed quite pleased with his taste.
This choice of attire gave him a very dashing, cynical self-image, and he hoped it would become his trademark.
Before the desk, the cadres were either sitting or standing. Anyone who saw this scene at first glance would very likely think it was either a politician’s office or a capitalist’s office.
But in reality, this was just a gang’s office.
“I’ve had Will’s death thoroughly investigated. It was done by a force called ‘Lance Family,’ and most of them are Imperial immigrants.”
“I don’t care how they became enemies with Will, but they killed one of ours.”
“This is our territory. Only we cause trouble for others; no one has ever caused trouble for us. So this matter will not be left at that.”
“We must avenge Will!” He slammed the table, but the cadres’ reactions were not so enthusiastic.
How much cohesion could a gang whose main business was kidnapping and bullying its own people have?
Some cadres even guarded against each other, lest they accidentally be harmed by a good friend.
Will died?
Then let him die. People didn’t care about that; with one less senior cadre, they could get a bigger share of the money.
They also clearly knew that Heller wasn’t genuinely seeking revenge for Will by going after Lance; they had all heard the rumors recently.
Lance would sponsor university students, and would even give them houses and cars.
They didn’t quite understand why Lance would do this, but they all understood that Lance was very rich.
If he weren’t rich, he wouldn’t dare make such promises. Even if Heller didn’t say anything, they were all quietly inquiring about Lance and Lance Family themselves.
For them, if an Imperial person had money, that money might not necessarily belong to the Imperial person; it could also belong to their Camille gang!
Although their reaction wasn’t enthusiastic, they wouldn’t object to causing trouble for Lance; it was all about making money anyway.
A rich little gang, if it was eliminated, then it was eliminated.
A senior cadre coughed. He looked a bit thin, wearing a white shirt and a blue jacket. “Get to the point, are we trying to kidnap him or start a gang war?”
Everyone else’s attention was drawn to that sentence; it was what they wanted to say too.
If it was just kidnapping, a senior cadre leading some men might be enough to try.
As long as Lance was within their grasp, they could kidnap him.
For the Camille people, kidnapping didn’t distinguish between “in broad daylight” or “stealthily.” If they saw someone, even if the person was driving, they would directly ram their car, then pull the person out of their car, shove them into their own car, and leave the scene. This was what they did best.
Kidnapping had a smaller cost and lower expenses. There might be some vehicle damage when forcing the target’s car to stop, but that was the biggest expense.
A few hundred dollars was enough for them to kidnap someone.
But gang warfare was different; gang warfare required a greater investment. If you wanted those low-level gang members to fight for you, you had to show enough sincerity.
People aren’t fools.
Perhaps some gangs, such as the most cohesive Summurian gangs, could fight desperately without needing various rewards and promises, because they had that kind of atmosphere.
Everyone was very united; if one person got into trouble, others would try to help. That’s why people rarely said “Summurian gangs,” but rather used “a certain family” to refer to them.
They treated gang members as if they were family.
But the Camille gang clearly lacked such an atmosphere and environment. If they weren’t well-fed, these low-level members weren’t fools; they wouldn’t really risk their lives.
Whether they could fight desperately depended on whether Heller could afford to pay.
A large amount of money.
Therefore, every gang war was a fateful choice for the gang.
If they lost, after spending a lot of money and favors, they would gain nothing, but rather suffer heavy losses, and it might take a year or two to recover.
If they won, then naturally they could earn back both principal and interest, and the gang’s scale and status would rise to a new level.
Heller’s gaze swept over the faces of these cadres. He knew what they were thinking: they all wanted to start a gang war.
Because only then would Heller give them a large sum of money first.
He was also considering these gains and losses, and ultimately, the idea of saving money prevailed. “First, try to kidnap him and see if he can be brought over.”
His gaze swept over the faces of the remaining senior cadres, finally settling on Liam, the cadre in the blue jacket who had spoken earlier. “Liam, you go.”
The man who was called stood up, supporting his knees, and straightened his collar. “No problem.”
Heller looked at him. “Can I expect good news?”
“Of course!”
After everyone left, only Heller’s two confidants remained. One of them wasn’t very optimistic about Liam’s attempt to kidnap Lance.
“Kidnapping the leader of a small gang is not an easy task. I estimate he’ll botch it, and if the other side retaliates, it’s very likely to escalate the war.”
Heller swirled his glass, the liquor slowly circling along the rim. He didn’t seem very worried. “Just a small gang of dozens of people…”
The speaker saw that Heller didn’t take this small family seriously, so he naturally wouldn’t say anything more. He knew Heller’s bad temper very well.
Compared to the kidnapping and the unknown amount of money they could extort, Heller’s mind was now entirely on his liquor.
Damn big Polly!
On the weekend, the state government issued a notice that all cities in the state must establish a Tobacco, Alcohol, and Hazardous Goods Administration. Besides the director being appointed by the state or federal government, the core members were recommended by local law enforcement agencies.
Local police, the tax bureau, the Department of Justice, including the FBI, all had the qualification to nominate candidates.
The Chief of the Golden Port City Police Department recommended over twenty candidates to the state government, and he couldn’t guarantee how many would be selected.
But Officer Lukar, he used personal connections, so there was no possibility of him not being selected.
He had actually not been in the position of police chief for too long, but no matter how long he stayed, he didn’t want everything to spiral out of control.
The transfer order quickly reached the City Police Department. Officer Lukar, under the shocked and jealous gazes of some colleagues, went to the Assistant Chief’s office to hand over his work.
Everyone knew that this new administration would be a very popular department.
The entire city’s underworld was full of smuggled liquor. This department was also destined to be connected with many criminal organizations and capitalists, but now, they had no opportunity.
All those who were selected were ecstatic, while those who weren’t could only vent their helpless emotions.
Officer Lukar… could no longer be called an officer now. He was appointed as a senior agent (special agent) of the new Tobacco, Alcohol, and Hazardous Goods Administration and would undergo a one-month intensive training program, taking office after the New Year.
Even the location for this new law enforcement department had been finalized, not far from City Hall, and renovations had already begun.
The President repeatedly criticized some local areas in his televised address for their lack of enthusiasm, and even negligence, in implementing Prohibition.
He could understand, after all, for some regions that produced various alcoholic beverages, Prohibition meant cutting off their important financial and economic sources.
But they shouldn’t ignore the responsibilities they should bear and value—social responsibilities—just for tax revenue.
Prohibition was not a matter for one person, one family, or one region; it would change the current situation of many alcoholics in the Federation, minimize domestic violence, and significantly increase productivity.
In short, stricter Prohibition measures were imperative!
Golden Port also felt this atmosphere, and the price of alcohol also became higher.
“I’ve already contacted the distilleries in Yalan. We’ll set off after watching the important game in early December.”
Alberto sat on the sofa with his legs crossed. This was his first time at Lance’s financial firm.
Today, he came back from handling business in the Bay Area, and he dropped by here to see Lance.
He had always heard that the business here was doing well, but he had never seen it with his own eyes. Today, he finally witnessed it.
Every once in a while, someone would come in with their work card to borrow money. Although the amount of each loan wasn’t much, the quantity was large!
And the most convenient part of Lance’s model was that debt collection wasn’t difficult.
They were essentially paying interest and principal in advance; they just needed to wait for a period to cash it in.
Lance’s side recently had a very good relationship with the dockworkers’ union, so workers from the docks shouldn’t even think about defaulting on debts.
This also gave him some ideas, but he quickly dismissed them.
Because selling alcohol was much more profitable than this.
Lance sat behind the desk, sitting naturally. They had a good relationship, so he didn’t need to sit on the sofa. “I also have some gaps recently. We’ll go together then.”
Alberto was a bit curious. “How did you convince the dockworkers’ union to let you sell alcohol at the docks?”
“Fruit juice!” Lance emphasized. “It’s normal for juice to ferment slightly during transportation and storage. I don’t think that’s illegal.”
“Just like… bread!”
“Bread also produces alcohol when it ferments. If the Federal government completely disregards the facts, then they should even ban bread, because bread also contains alcohol!”
This was the first time Alberto heard about bread having alcohol. He kept this in mind, thinking he could use it to impress others someday.
Eating bread equals drinking alcohol, the Federation should ban eating bread—what a shocking statement, those girls would definitely love it!
Speaking of which, Alberto asked something. “Do you know if anyone else has large quantities of medium to high-grade alcohol besides your previous batch?”
Lance shook his head. “That batch of alcohol was something I got by chance. If you still want more, I’m afraid I don’t have any, at least not here.”
“However, I heard there are many grape vineyards in Yalan. Almost every country produces wine and brandy, so you’ll definitely find something suitable.”
Alberto nodded and said, “This trip is to establish a stable and long-term trade.”
In fact, Summuri Island also produced high-quality wine and brandy, but Summuri Island was a bit far from the Federation, and the long sea route would multiply travel costs and risks.
On the high seas, there were not only storms but also pirates.
On the contrary, Yalan was right next to the Federation, connected by land, and sea transport wasn’t too dangerous. They could stick close to the continental shelf and dock at any time.
He paused, then added, “Recently, another batch of medium to high-grade alcohol appeared on the market, slightly disrupting the boss’s plan. He wants to know who is selling this batch of alcohol. If you know, the family will owe you a favor.”
Lance pretended to think for a moment, though in reality, he had no idea who it was.
If it weren’t for Hiram’s chance encounter that allowed him to get this batch of alcohol, he probably would still be half-ignorant about many things in this matter.
In fact, after Mr. Pasoretto obtained Lance’s liquor, he already had a comprehensive plan, and it was being implemented quite well. He provided alcoholic beverages to many wealthy individuals in the Bay Area, thereby establishing deeper connections with them.
Moreover, the state government also had a great need for high-grade alcoholic beverages, especially the state’s upper and lower houses; these state senators and representatives were also major consumers of alcoholic beverages.
Discussing matters related to power in private rooms, if a sufficiently high-grade wine was missing, it would obviously be as regrettable as missing a soul for these gentlemen in the dim light and shadows!
Starting from Golden Port and radiating nationwide was Mr. Pasoretto’s idea.
He didn’t want people to, when speaking of the Pasoretto family, only say, “Oh, I’ve heard of them, they’re one of Golden Port’s five major families…”
He hoped that when people spoke of him and his family, they would say, “That’s one of the Federation’s five major families!”
Of course, six major families would also be fine, any number of major families would work, but the “Golden Port” prefix must be changed to “Federal.”
Everything was going smoothly, but recently someone suddenly disrupted the situation. Mr. Pasoretto’s contacts didn’t get any valuable information, because the person selling the goods was an intermediary.
Someone entrusted the liquor to Pete to sell. As the most influential broker in the area, he began selling large quantities almost without difficulty.
And brandy and wine were slightly more upscale in their application than the whiskey Lance provided to Mr. Pasoretto. His plan wasn’t entirely ruined.
After all, some important figures also liked whiskey, so it just meant the plan wasn’t perfectly completed.
Lance managed to get such a large batch of alcohol, perhaps he could get some information.
But it seemed regrettable; Lance didn’t know who provided it either.
Just then, someone knocked on the door. The two paused their conversation. Lance said “Come in,” and the door opened.
Hiram glanced at Alberto. Lance motioned for him to speak. He flipped his hair. “Someone’s watching us. There are people in the back alley too.”
Lance frowned slightly. His first thought was Officer Lukar, but then he quickly felt that it shouldn’t be.
He was now clean from head to toe, and Officer Lukar should know this and would have withdrawn his men. Why would he suddenly arrange for people again?
He asked, “Do they look like police?”
Hiram shook his head. “They don’t have that police aura about them. They look like people from another gang.”
Alberto immediately became interested.
He wasn’t interested in dealing with the police, but he was very interested in gang warfare. “Need help?” he actively asked. “Do you want me to have a batch of weapons sent over?”
He said this as if complaining, or rather, reminding Lance, “You have to find a way to get your own channels, and talent.”
“The old man saves me a lot of money every year just by re-rifling.”
If all guns used in crimes were destroyed, it would easily cost hundreds or thousands of dollars.
Not destroying them was out of the question, because ballistics had been included in evidence, and scientists said it was impossible for two identical rifling patterns to exist, just like fingerprints.
General gangs, if they were poorer, might reuse them, and then in a certain arrest, all previous cases would be brought up, leading to life imprisonment or direct electrocution.
Those slightly less poor might try to sell the guns cheaply on the black market, and it would be none of their business who took the fall later.
And some would sell the guns to foreign regions. Although there would still be losses, the losses would be relatively smaller.
As for the very rich?
A former star witness once described the fate of these guns in court—
“Before every operation, we would get a new gun. After we killed someone, we would walk to a person holding a sack, and one by one, throw the fired weapons into the sack. Then that sack would be thrown into the deep sea by our people…”
Alberto’s “old man” solved this problem well, but not permanently.
The consequence of his continuous re-rifling was increasing inaccuracy, but for gang members, it didn’t matter.
Sometimes the purpose of firing a gun wasn’t actually to kill someone, but to tell others, I have the courage to shoot, but do you have the courage to be hit?
Lance fully accepted Alberto’s reminder. “After this period ends, I’ll find a gunsmith. As for weapon channels…”
Alberto continued, “I’ll introduce you to a seller, one of our own.”
Lance accepted his kindness. Alberto called someone to send a batch of weapons over, of course, they would be accounted for, and told him that the old man would still give him a 60% discount for recovery, as a friendly price.
Lance looked at Hiram. “Catch one and bring him back for questioning.”
As for catching the wrong person?
Give them some money, and plenty would be willing to be wrongly caught!
After Hiram left, Alberto walked over to Lance, tossing his hair like Hiram. “He’s always like that?”
Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “The doctor said it’s incurable…”
The two looked at each other and burst into laughter.