Capítulo 1478: Chapter 696: Victor, Can You Still Control Everyone?!
“Find a way to get the ‘Extraterrestrial Object’ into the Belize Special Zone. We don’t need much, but it has to be high quality. Target the customs people, target the upper levels of the port authority, offer them the best goods at the cheapest prices, or even let them enjoy it for free. As long as we drag them into the water, the Special Zone will beco our backyard. By then, even if Victor had three heads and six arms, he could only watch as his territory is slowly eaten away!”
Once successful, it would be like sticking a Stinger right into Victor’s Heartland.
“I understand, third brother, I will personally arrange for candidates to win over so key figures at Belize Port.”
“Rember, Old Ye.”
Xie Zhile’s tone intensified, “We are now dancing with giants, one misstep and it’s an abyss. Money is endless, but life is only one. Deep dive, without my orders, don’t contact proactively again.”
With a “click,” the phone was decisively and cleanly hung up.
Ye Zhenli rubbed his temples, also feeling as pressured as Alexander.
…
xico, Belize Special Economic Zone.
This place seed like a world apart from the chaos of Naples.
Skyscrapers soared high, giant ships shuttled through the port, containers stacked like mountains, bringing together goods and capital from all over the world, along with people with dreams of getting rich, here to converge and flow.
The Special Zone adheres to minimalist regulation and comrcial freedom, attracting huge investnts, but also like a piece of at, attracting countless flies slling the stench.
As night falls, the Special Zone sparkles with neon, nightclubs, upscale restaurants, and clubs sit side by side, with the air filled with the lavish scent of alcohol and perfu.
Here, as long as you have money, you can buy almost any service to satisfy any desire.
Just like that Special Zone opposite Guangzhou, hehehe.
However, beneath the facade of prosperity, dark currents are surging.
Gangs from all over the world are looking for opportunities here, they don’t dare to harass large enterprises and governnt projects, but as for the nurous small shops, bars, and restaurants, collecting “protection fees” has beco their essential “traditional business” for survival.
You can’t control it.
Which country can claim to completely control organized cri?
Where there are people, there are rivers and lakes!
Among these gangs, a group led by Ivan Petrov stands out.
Most of them are forr soldiers or unemployed youths exiled abroad after the collapse of the Soviet Union, with rugged personalities, love for combat, and a belief in vodka and violence. They control several blocks on the periphery of the Special Zone, barely surviving by collecting protection fees and running so disreputable strip clubs.
In a smoky Russian-style bar.
Ivan Petrov and his few cronies were drinking cheap vodka, watching blurred boxing match replays on the TV.
The bar wasn’t busy, a bit deserted.
Their “business” had not been good lately, the regular security forces in the Special Zone getting stronger, the small shops learning to group together for warmth, even hiring private bodyguards, making it increasingly difficult to collect their “protection fees.”
Just then, Ivan’s phone rang.
Glancing at the caller ID, it was a vague European number, he frowned but still answered.
“Ivan, my old friend!”
The voice on the other end was in English with a strong Eastern European accent, overly enthusiastic.
The caller was “Sergei,” a forr arms dealer Ivan knew from his early days in Eastern Europe, later said to have gone to the Netherlands to develop.
“Sergei? You son of a bitch, you’re not dead yet?” Ivan responded gruffly, with a hint of long-lost familiarity in his tone.
“Haha, God isn’t willing to take yet, I hear you’re doing well in that paradise in xico?”
“Paradise?” Ivan snorted, downing a swig of vodka, “More like a gilded Hell, scraping by, barely making ends et. So, do you have a lucrative deal to introduce?”
Sergei’s voice lowered mysteriously: “Ivan, I’ve heard in the Belize Special Zone, you can sell anything, as long as you have the connections?”
Ivan beca cautious: “That depends on what it is. Arms? Victor’s people are watching closely, ssing with that is asking for death.”
“No, no, no, my old friend, more profitable than arms,” Sergei’s voice carried seduction, “it’s a powder of joy, the newest, the best, on the market they call it ‘Extraterrestrial Object.’
“Extraterrestrial Object?” Ivan froze, then sat up abruptly, half the alcohol dissipated,
“Are you fucking crazy?! You want to bring that stuff into the Special Zone? Don’t drag into your death wish! Victor’s people will chop us up and feed us to the crocodiles!”
He’s heard the reputation of this new drug and knows Victor’s zero-tolerance policy for drugs, especially on his turf.
“Calm down, Ivan, calm down!”
Sergei hurriedly said, “Listen to ! The higher the risk, the greater the return, the bigger the waves, the more expensive the fish, do you know how much this stuff sells for per gram outside? 130 Euros! Even higher! And my boss can give you the best wholesale price…”
Sergei quoted a shockingly low number.
Ivan and his nearby confidant pricked up their ears, their breaths instantly heavier.
They are people grinding at the bottom, so they know very well how terrifying the profit in the middle is.
“If you can get it into the Special Zone, distribute discreetly among those wealthy tourists, businessn, and those seemingly glamorous yet empty-hearted sluts, the price can increase 60 tis, 100 tis easily! If you have the capability to sell in other parts of xico…”
Sergei paused, emphasizing, “300 tis! Ivan, think about it, how much money is that? Do you still need to painstakingly collect those miserable protection fees? You could imdiately beco a real millionaire!”
Ivan’s heart pounded loudly, clutching the glass so hard his knuckles turned white.
300 tis profit! This number sounded like the Devil’s whisper, madly assaulting his rationality and fear.
“But…Victor…” Ivan’s voice was sowhat dry.
“Victor manages the bigger picture!” Sergei interrupted, “The Special Zone is so big, how many people co and go every day? Can he possibly manage them all? As long as you’re careful enough, only sell to foreigners, let it discreetly circulate in upscale venues, who would know? Fortune always favors the bold, Ivan, think about your past days, do you want to spend your whole life like a stray dog fighting for bones in the slums? Opportunity is right in front of you!”
A long silence.
Ivan’s mind raced wildly, fear and greed fiercely battled. Ultimately, the loathing of poverty and the extre craving for wealth overwheld the fear of Victor.
He downed the vodka in his glass in one gulp, slamd the glass on the table fiercely, and growled into the phone:
“Damn it! Let’s do this! When can the first batch arrive? How do we do the handover?”
On the other end, Sergei wore a successful sneer.
“Soon, my friend, very soon…you will be thankful for the decision you made today. I will inform you of the details later. Get ready to embrace your new life, Ivan Petrov—boss!”
The call ended.
Ivan breathed heavily.
“Boss, are we really doing this?” confidant Vasili moved closer, his voice low with undisguisable fear but also a bit of excitent ignited by the enormous profits.
Ivan turned sharply, his reddened eyes fixing on him: “Are you short on money, Vasili? Do you want to spend your whole life living in this dog hole, salivating over the petty tips from the strippers?”
He gestured around the dingy, desolate bar, his tone full of distaste.
Vasili swallowed, recalling his empty wallet and his mother in need of remittance back ho, his gaze gradually turning fierce. He nodded heavily: “Yes! Boss, I need money!”
“You need money, then you can only sell your life for it!”
Ivan roared quietly, grabbing the bottle on the table and taking a fierce swig directly from the mouth, the cheap alcohol burned down his throat like fire, yet it made him even more excited.
“What about Victor? He’s a man, not God! The Special Zone is so big, so many ships co and go every day, can he watch them all?”
He slamd the bottle on the table with a loud bang, liquid splashing.
“We’ll deal only with those foreign bastards, those rich Arican pigs, Europeans, they party harder than anyone else! Be discreet, who could know? Once we have enough money, where can’t we go? Moscow? Saint Petersburg? By then we’ll be goddamned tycoons!”
His words seed to embolden his subordinates, more like convincing himself. The fear was temporarily buried by 300 tis profit and alcohol, a reckless frenzy taking over. He seed to already see bundles of euros and US dollars piling up in this shabby bar.
“Get ready, Vasili,” Ivan panted, his gaze turning sharp and dangerous, “our new life…is about to begin.”
Back then, Bo She Village got beaten down by armored vehicles like dogs.
But look…
Fearless people remain fearless.
Money is the root of all evil!
…
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