Pablo and Marco entered the bar "The Old Dock."
The air inside the bar was thick with cigarette smoke. Dim lights, few custors sitting in the corners, looking curiously at the newcors.
Rein was sitting at the far table in the back corner.
A man in his late fifties, his face thin and wrinkled, short gray beard, and cold blue eyes.
He was wearing an old black coat. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him.
Pablo approached him with Marco behind him.
Rein raised his head and looked at them.
"Did Surin send you?"
"Yes."
"Sit down."
Pablo sat down. Marco stood behind him as usual.
Rein looked at Marco for a mont, then returned to Pablo.
"How many do you want?"
"Six guns and one small pistol. And ammunition."
Rein took out a cigarette and lit it.
"This isn't a toy store, kid."
"I know. That's why I ca to you, not a toy store."
Rein smiled a small smile.
"The small pistol. What type do you want?"
"The best you have."
Rein looked at him with evaluating eyes.
He stood up and gestured for Pablo to follow him. He walked to a small table in a corner of the bar where a tal box was placed.
He opened the box.
Inside was a small, elegant pistol. Its color was shiny black, its handle covered with dark wood. It was much smaller than ordinary guns, but it looked more precise. Its craftsmanship seed ticulous, and its weight was light.
"This is a small flintlock pistol. Special manufacture from the Weaponsmiths Island. Light, accurate, powerful. Suitable for hiding under clothing."
Pablo held it. The trigger was smooth, and the barrel was short but thick.
"How much?"
"Two hundred and fifty thousand."
Pablo did not hesitate. "Alright. And the guns?"
"The ordinary flintlock guns as well. Twenty thousand each. One hundred and twenty for six."
"The ammunition?"
"I'll leave it to you at cost. You're a good custor." Rein said as he extinguished his cigarette.
Pablo took out the money from his bag. Four hundred thousand Beli. He counted it and placed it on the table.
Rein looked at the money. He did not touch it imdiately.
"Surin told you were different. He doesn't send anyone unless he considers them trustworthy."
"Surin is a smart man."
"Yes. That's why he's still alive."
Rein gestured to one of his n standing in the corner. The man took out a large leather bag and placed it on the table, then took the small pistol from the box and placed it next to the bag.
Pablo opened the bag. He saw six flintlock guns arranged neatly. Ordinary guns, the type sotis used by hunters or private security guards. Long barrel, wooden handle, heavy but balanced weight. They were usable.
He held the small pistol again. It was heavier than he expected. Cold tal, comfortable wooden grip, short but sturdy barrel.
He placed it inside his clothing.
"I'll give you my Den Den Mushi number." Rein said as he wrote a number on a piece of paper. "If you want anything else, call . Don't co here often."
"I will only co if I have to."
Pablo took the paper and put it in his pocket.
"You can go now."
Pablo stood up. He gestured for Marco to carry the bag. Marco picked up the bag containing the six guns and hung it on his back.
They left the bar without looking back.
Outside, the cold air was refreshing after the bar's smoke.
They walked in silence for a few minutes.
Then Marco said: "A pistol for two hundred and fifty thousand? Is it made of gold?"
"It is not for show."
Marco did not reply.
They continued on their way to the factory.
---
After they arrived at the room, Marco placed the bag in a safe corner.
Pablo sat on his bed and took out the paper with Rein's number.
He looked at it.
The arms dealer was smart. He didn't ask much. He didn't threaten. He just delivered the goods and gave his number.
This type of person is useful.
Pablo thought for a mont.
If Rein owned a Den Den Mushi, he needed one too. To communicate with Marco when he was with the gang. With Tom, Ido, Lorenzo, and Kavor at the factory. And with anyone else who might join him in the future.
"Tomorrow, we will buy Den Den Mushi devices."
Marco looked at him. "How many do you need?"
"Three."
"How much do they cost?"
"About fifty thousand each. One hundred and fifty thousand."
Marco grunted.
"We will also buy food for them for a year. Den Den Mushi only eat certain leaves."
"How much do you need?"
"About twenty-two thousand."
Marco nodded. He was no longer bothered by these numbers. After months, he had gotten used to Pablo spending thousands as if they were pennies.
---
The next morning, Pablo went to the market and bought three Den Den Mushi devices.
They were small, portable. Each cost fifty thousand Beli. He paid one hundred and fifty thousand.
Then he bought food for them for a year for twenty-two thousand.
He put one device in his pocket, carried the second with him to the factory, and Marco would take the third with him.
At the factory, he gathered Ido, Lorenzo, Kavor, and Tom in his office.
"This device is for communication between us." He said, pointing to the Den Den Mushi placed on the table. "If sothing urgent happens, call . If I want sothing from you, I will call."
They looked at the snail.
"Ido, you are responsible for the device when I am away. Lorenzo, Kavor, and Tom, if you need anything, talk to Ido, and he will talk to ."
Everyone nodded.
They left, leaving Pablo alone.
---
At night, Pablo summoned Tom to his office.
Tom ca after all the workers had left. He sat on the chair opposite Pablo.
"Now, I want you to introduce to the director. For real."
Tom looked at Pablo.
"The director's na is Vlad. In his fifties, married, has one daughter studying on another island."
"He lives in the eastern district of Naraka, in a large house near the shore. He cos to the factory every day except Sunday."
"What are his weaknesses?" Pablo asked.
"He loves money. And he is ambitious. He wants to beco a partner in the factory soday."
"And the owner? Who is he?"
"The owner's na is Veron. An old man, sick for years. He rarely appears at the factory. Once a year, approximately. He trusts Vlad completely to run everything in his na."
"Does the owner have a family?"
"I don't know. I have only seen him a few tis in all the years I have worked here."
"Are there any other people I should worry about?"
"As far as I know, no."
"That makes things easier."
Pablo wrote everything in his notebook.
"So the director wants to beco a partner?"
"That is what I heard."
"That is good information. Greed makes people predictable."
Tom looked at Pablo. "What are you planning?"
"Not now. But perhaps we need to make the director... cooperative."
Pablo did not say more.
Tom understood that he should not ask.
He left, leaving Pablo alone.
---
That sa night, after Marco returned from the gang, Pablo sat with him.
"The guns. It's ti to use them."
Marco looked at him.
"Choose those you trust in the 'John Gang'. Those who fear you and obey you. Give them guns. Make them know that the weapon cos from you, and that it cos with loyalty."
"How many of them?"
"Don't give guns to many. Three or four is enough. The rest you will keep for later."
Marco nodded.
---
The next day, Marco went to the "John Gang" headquarters.
The large house in the forest, where the twenty-six n lived in permanent chaos.
Marco gathered four n who were the least cowardly and the most afraid of him.
They sat in a side room away from the rest of the gang.
Marco opened his bag and took out the guns.
"These are for you."
The n's eyes widened.
They had never seen so many guns before. So of them had never held a gun in their lives.
"But..." said one of them. "John doesn't—"
"John doesn't need to know." Marco interrupted him. "The weapons are from . And you are with . If John asks you, say you bought them yourselves. And if any of you betrays ..." He paused and looked into their eyes one by one. "He will know what it ans to betray ."
Marco did not say more. He did not need to.
The n took the guns. Their hands trembled slightly. Not only from fear.
But from excitent as well.
Marco was thinking as he left.
Pablo was right.
The guns were not just weapons.
They were ropes to tie people to him.
And he was now tying the four n to him.
Not with love. Not only with fear.
With the weapon they could not obtain without him.
He turned and walked back to the factory.
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