WOOF WOOF WOOF!!
Hearing their owner scolding them, the two Huskies weren’t having it. They stood by Tom’s side and let out a volley of barks at the balding man.
’Hmph. Just like Prince,’
’one of them is bad enough. I can’t imagine how miserable it must be to own two.’
Feng Shan ntally gave the balding man a thumbs-up out of respect.
"Don’t scold them! They’re good boys, so well-behaved!" As a dog lover, Tom stopped the balding man from berating the two Huskies.
The balding man raised an eyebrow. "Then you can have them. On top of that, I’ll give you free gas for your Pickup Truck for half a month."
’Free gas for half a month...’
’Adopting two Huskies...’
’This deal...’
Tom made up his mind instantly. He looked at the balding man and said, "Barnett, how about we talk about the oil tank business?"
Hah!
The balding man flashed a contemptuous smile. Even as he cursed the two Huskies, he pulled a handful of kibble from his pocket and scattered it at his feet.
The two Huskies imdiately pounced toward their owner’s feet, lowering their heads to squabble over the kibble.
"You two, stop chewing on the fuel hoses. You’ve already broken three this month. Does gasoline sll that good to you?"
After feeding the dogs, the balding man walked over to Tom and asked, "Buddy, what business were you just talking about?"
Tom rolled his eyes and pointed to Feng Shan. "My friend wants to buy an oil storage tank, plus a small fuel dispenser."
’An oil tank and a fuel dispenser!’
The balding man imdiately ditched Tom and approached Feng Shan with a huge smile. "Buddy, you’ve got a good eye. Barnett’s tanks have the best quality in Fairbanks. They’re safe, reliable, and I can even offer fuel delivery."
"I’ve got 10, 20, and 30-cubic-ter storage tanks in stock. If you want anything with a larger capacity, you’ll have to place a special order."
"I’ll take that one." Feng Shan had already picked out a tank when he entered the back lot; it was the smallest one there.
Barnett followed his gaze, and the smile on his face dimd slightly.
"Buddy, that’s a 10-cubic-ter, FF double-walled horizontal storage tank. It can hold 2,700 gallons of fuel, cos equipped with a leak detection system, and is especially suited for use in frigid regions. By the way, where are you planning to put it?"
"The Tundra."
"That godforsaken place? I thought you could refuel at Kevik Camp." Barnett narrowed his eyes, studying Feng Shan for a mont. "Buddy, if you’re planning to take advantage of Susan’s injury to start a gas business on the Tundra, then I’m sorry. I’m Susan’s designated fuel supplier, and I won’t sell you this tank."
"Barnett, your noble principles truly move ," Tom said, patting Barnett’s shoulder. "But don’t worry. Feng is the master of the Crown Territory. He has his own plane and snowmobiles, and he needs the tank to store fuel for them. He’s not going to compete with Susan for business."
"Besides, Feng is the one who saved Susan’s life. That plane, the Carnation, is his private jet."
"Really?" Barnett looked at Feng Shan, who nodded.
"My apologies, buddy. Please accept my apology." Barnett spread his arms and pulled Feng Shan into a tight hug. A wave of body odor almost made Feng Shan gag. "Let’s get back to business. I’ll give you a discount."
"The 10-cubic-ter, FF double-walled horizontal tank is 5,000 US Dollars, and a small fuel dispenser set is 1,000 US Dollars. The intake equipnt is free. How about I charge you 5,500 US Dollars total?"
’A 500 US Dollar discount.’
It was the first ti Feng Shan had ever seen an Arican offer a discount proactively, so he imdiately took out his checkbook and paid.
"Buddy, just so we’re clear, the tank’s discounted, but you have to handle transportation yourself. Getting this big fella out to the Tundra won’t be any cheaper than the tank itself."
After taking the check, Barnett shot Tom a jealous smile, the kind that said, ’You’re about to make a killing.’
"That’s right. A tank this large can’t be transported by plane. It first has to be trucked up the Dalton Highway to Dead Horse Town, the northernmost town, and then airlifted by helicopter across the Tundra to the Crown Territory. The entire journey is 1,100 kiloters."
WHEW!!
Barnett let out a whistle. "See? The Tundra is no place for humans. If it weren’t for the oil, they never would have even built that Death Highway."
"Back in ’77, the governnt spent 8 billion US Dollars just to build the Dalton Highway, and the annual maintenance fees are astronomical. All that just to save 150 million US Dollars in oil transportation costs. What a failed investnt."
Feng Shan knew the Tundra wasn’t fit for human habitation, too.
But the Crown Territory was there, and it wasn’t like he could move it.
He had originally planned on using his loan money to build a road himself, but now it seed that even an investnt of over ten million US dollars would be like tossing a stone into the ocean—it wouldn’t even make a splash.
’It’s still cheaper to use a plane.’
"Tom, the transportation is in your hands!"
"Don’t you worry. If that tank gets so much as a single paint chip, I won’t charge you one cent for shipping." Tom pounded his chest with a THUMP THUMP THUMP, but to Feng Shan’s ears, it sounded like the crisp CHA-CHING of a cash register.
After saying goodbye to Barnett and returning to the Pickup Truck, Tom took out his list again. With the snowmobiles and oil tank purchased, only one last, relatively important item remained.
Explosives.
"Buddy, what do you need explosives for? Planning on blowing up a snow-capped mountain?"
Feng Shan shrugged. "It’s for Nash. He suspects there’s gold in the frozen bed of the lt River and wants to use explosives to blast through the ice."
"That would be nice, but if there was a gold mine there, it would’ve been discovered a hundred years ago." Tom didn’t believe for a second that the Crown Territory had gold. Even if it did, it would be a lode deposit with no comrcial mining value.
It was just like that sensational river valley gold scam from two years ago.
In the Yukon River Basin, a group of Indigenous People claid to have discovered a gold mine on their reservation. They submitted core samples to a testing agency, which, after analysis, estimated the gold grade at 1.91 to 6.58 grams per ton.
The Indigenous People then took the lab report and went looking for investors. They personally took the investors to the site to drill and conduct a second round of testing. Analysts estimated the gold deposit was worth 50 million US Dollars.
When the second set of core samples yielded the sa results, the investors’ confidence soared, and they imdiately put up 30 million US Dollars to purchase the land.
However, when formal mining began, the new samples were a huge disappointnt. The average grade was only 0.06 grams per ton, not the 1.91 to 6.58 grams per ton they had been promised. In other words, there was no real gold mine there.
The investors later found the exact spot of the exploratory drilling and discovered it was indeed a small pocket of a gold-bearing lode. The land itself, however, had no comrcial mining value. It had been an elaborately planned scam.
The investors had a collective breakdown and called the police. An investigation revealed that the sample data had been widely falsified; gold dust had been added to the core samples to inflate the gold grade.
Yet, in the end, not a single person was punished for the fraud. First, the land was on a reservation, where the state governnt had no jurisdiction. Second, the key witnesses—the few Indigenous People involved—died under mysterious circumstances, the core sample warehouse mysteriously burned down, and all the evidence vanished.
The lead investor lost a total of 30 million US Dollars, was bankrupted by the crippling loss, and finally ended his own life with a bullet on that sa piece of land.
"Buddy, as your friend, I feel obligated to give you so advice: it’s fine to dabble, but don’t get in too deep." After one more word of caution, Tom added, "That said, I happen to know an arms distributor. He’s got high explosives, the cheap, off-the-books kind."
The Pickup Truck skirted the main district of Polaris Town and arrived at a river in a remote suburb. The view opened up to a desolate field of wild grass.
A walled villa stood by the river. The high walls made it impossible to see what was inside, and surveillance caras were positioned at intervals along the top.
"Why such tight security?" Feng Shan narrowed his eyes.
"Standard protective asures," Tom explained with a smile. "Vergil’s an arms distributor. He used to take on small-fry contracts from the FBO public bidding website. He made a bit of money a few years back, then ca back to Alaska to retire and do so middleman work."
As he explained, Tom walked up to the large iron gate and pressed the doorbell.
A mont later, the video intercom on the gate lit up, and Tom leaned in closer.
"Vergil, it’s . I’ve got a friend who wants to buy sothing. We just talked on the phone."
"Wait."
A heavily accented voice crackled through the intercom.
The large iron gate opened with a KLUNK.
A delicate-looking blonde woman appeared. Despite the cold, she was wearing a miniskirt, her two long, straight, pale legs catching the eye.
"Like what you see, buddy? I can have a word with Vergil, maybe take her to a hotel for a little ’workout.’" Tom gave Feng Shan a light nudge with his elbow and a wicked grin.
"If you’re interested, be my guest." Feng Shan turned his head away.
"Sotis I really wonder if you’re a saint descended from heaven, or maybe you’re just gay." Tom’s gaze was fixed on the blonde bombshell leading the way.
The garden inside the walls was very tidy. There were no trees, just a lawn, though Feng Shan suspected the grass was probably fake, too.
The blonde led them through a covered walkway. As they approached the villa’s front door, a bodyguard in a black suit and sunglasses blocked their path.
"Apologies. Please hand over your weapons."
"Go on, it’s fine. The place is secure," Tom said with a shrug, pulling a pistol from his waistband and handing it to the man in black.
Feng Shan took out his pistol and handed it over as well.
After taking their pistols, the bodyguard motioned for them to spread their arms. He patted Tom down first. When it was Feng Shan’s turn, the guard looked up as he reached his ankle.
"Sorry, forgot about this one!" Feng Shan said with a grin, lifting his leg and pulling up the cuff of his insulated pants to reveal a Hunting Knife.
Just then, the villa door opened.
A short, very stout, middle-aged man appeared in their line of sight.
He looked like an overinflated balloon. Though he was less than 1.6 ters tall, he had an astonishing width and girth. His round head sat directly on his broad shoulders, with almost no trace of a neck.
In Feng Shan’s eyes, the man looked like one of those round stone bollards used to block traffic.
"No need for the search. The Carnation Knight is a man of noble character." The round man stuck out his beer belly and waddled out the door to greet them.
"Vergil, my brother! Long ti no see." Tom stepped forward, raising his palm. The round man also extended his short, stubby fingers.
Their palms slapped and bumped together in a series of flashy moves that ended in a hug.
But even that little bit of movent left the round man drenched in sweat, and he had the blonde woman help him back into the villa.
"Damn it, let’s get inside and have a glass of rum. It’s too damn cold out here!"
...
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