On the outskirts of Leimonte City in xico, workers at a privately owned timber factory were busily transporting the processed lumber. Inside the factory, the roar of the electric saws was deafening, indicating that the timber business was booming.
The owner, Raymond, a man nearing his fifties with a slight paunch and a bushy beard, with a head of black hair, was enjoying the pleasant weather as he sat under the canopy outside his makeshift office, eating fruit.
"Hurry up, Diego," he called out. "You have to get this batch loaded onto the trucks before sunset today. Damn it, if it doesn't arrive in Tampico in two days, I'm going to pay a huge penalty!"
"Don't worry, boss. I won't delay your delivery," Diego assured him.
Diego, a man in his thirties, stood beside the truck, sweating profusely as he directed the workers, occasionally lending a hand, busy with double duties as a supervisor and a laborer.
People in xico have always had a reputation for their hard work, especially since the wages paid at this processing plant were definitely high for the local standard.
The rampant drug cri and chaotic law and order had caused xico's economy to stagnate. In Monterrey, an average construction worker, who did the hardest jobs, only earned a little over 4,000 pesos per month, while this timber mill paid each worker 6,000 pesos.
Compared to those who smuggled themselves into the Beautiful Country to work, the local workers preferred to stay, knowing that while their inco might not compare to the relatives in the United States who did dirty and tiring jobs, it was still much better than the local average.
As the factory was bustling with activity, a black Dodge SUV entered the facility.
The workers looked up at the pickup truck and then buried themselves back in their work after recognizing the license plate.
The vehicle was familiar; its owner, called Brody, was the boss's distant cousin involved in the transportation business, often coming to the factory to chat with the boss over tea.
The vehicle parked under the shade of the trees, and Brody got out. As he passed by the loading area, he waved to Diego from a distance.
"Good day, Diego!"
"Good day, Mr. Brody!" Diego greeted back with a smile.
After greetings were exchanged, Brody took a seat next to Raymond under the canopy, reached into the fruit plate, picked a prickly pear, peeled it, and bit into it, juices seeping out from the corner of his mouth.
"Boss, I've got a big deal," Brody said.
"A big deal?" Raymond asked, as he poured a cup of tea and pushed it towards Brody.
"How big?"
"Ten tons of high-grade stock. The transport fee is 20 million US dollars, with an upfront paynt of 2 million as a deposit. The remaining balance will be paid imdiately once the goods reach the border of the Beautiful Country."
"Which group's goods are they?"
In Raymond's view, any group capable of dealing in ten tons of premium goods at once would certainly be one of the very well-known drug trafficking groups within xico.
"This ti it's Colombian goods," Brody said. "They're coming directly from Colombia, by sea. We take over after they land at Geno Port and are responsible for the border crossing."
"Goods from the Colombian interior?" Raymond seed surprised.
"They're not working with the local trafficking groups?"
"Lately, the gangs around here have been busy, as you know..." Brody explained. "If they go by land, they would have to cross the turf of nurous gangs. There's no unified agreent, and nobody wants to risk sothing going wrong."
Raymond, of course, was aware of the situation faced by gangs and trafficking groups within xico. At the end of last year, after newly elected President Calderon took office, combating drug trafficking groups beca a top priority. A massive drug crackdown operation was launched, killing several group leaders and sparking a series of gang wars for territory.
It could be said that the current situation within xico was chaotic, deaths were occurring everywhere, and the state of affairs was on the brink of losing control.
"Who's the Colombian goods from?" Raymond asked.
Brody replied, "I checked it out; it's goods from a Chinese person nad Song."
"A Chinese person? In Colombia?" Raymond was even more surprised, having never heard of Chinese people holding such power there.
Ten tons, that's no small amount.
Having been engaged in the underground smuggling and transportation business for many years and dubbed the "Smuggling Emperor" of xico, even he rarely encountered a transaction of such magnitude.
That's right.
Raymond was actually Balrot.
It's just that nobody knew the owner of this lumber mill was in fact an underground smuggling emperor.
And no one could have guessed he was Balrot.
"Did you investigate thoroughly? Are you sure the information is accurate? Rember what I've told you, in our line of work, winning ten thousand tis ans nothing, but lose once and it's all over," he said.
"Of course I've investigated, very carefully at that. There's definitely no issue with this person," replied Raymond.
Balrog spoke up, "The more there seems to be no issue, the more careful we have to be. The CIA has been investigating us, and they're quite adept at forging false backgrounds."
"He has absolutely no connection to the CIA," Brody stated. "In fact, he recently clashed with the CIA."
"Is that so?" Balrog was intrigued. "Tell more."
Brody briefly recounted the rumors about Song Heping aiding the ELN in defeating the AUC, offending the CIA, and the CIA's two attempts to capture him to Balrog.
"How could such a person be with the CIA?"
"Hmm, it does seem unlikely now that you ntion it, but why would soone involved with a defense company get mixed up in this business? Besides, the ELN, though they have dealt with drug traffickers before, would never directly sell drugs themselves, let alone such a large shipnt?"
"There's nothing impossible about it, all for money," Brody said. "I've heard that this Mr. Song doesn't just provide military services, but also arms deals. So, selling drugs on the down-low isn't too far-fetched. What's more, with the gang powers here struggling internally, he probably wants to take advantage of the disarray and get a piece of the North Arican drug market."
After thinking for a mont, Balrog asked, "Has he requested to see ?"
Brody replied, "He brought it up initially, but I told him you wouldn't show up unless it's sothing particularly important. He didn't press after hearing that, so don't worry, he's probably not targeting you specifically."
With that, Balrog finally felt a sense of relief.
He had always been extrely cautious, knowing he was being watched.
Since this Mr. Song didn't insist on eting him, the deal must be without issues.
"Good, you can take this deal. Mobilize our resources and make sure it's done cleanly."
Pleased with Balrog's approval, Brody was extrely happy.
Because with every deal, he'd receive a hefty commission.
"Great, I'll get on it right away."
"Take care and remain cautious. Don't contact again until the deal is finished," Balrog instructed. "By the way, are you certain no one followed you here?"
"Of course not."
Brody was confident; over the past few years, Balrog had cut ties with many from the organization, retaining only a few limited channels. They didn't even use communication networks, opting for the most primitive ssengers instead.
Although not very convenient, it was safe and reliable.
"I should get going, boss, they're waiting for my response."
"Go ahead."
After Brody left, Balrog refilled his cup with tea and reclined in the armchair, tilting his head back to look at the sky.
The sunlight filtered through the vines and leaves of the pergola above, casting a spotty pattern on his face and beard, giving him the appearance of a sly old wolf.
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