Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 198: Milton's Illegal Verdict

Wow...

At this moment, dark clouds quietly enveloped the night sky, and a considerable amount of rain began to fall.

Rainwater quickly flowed into the cave from the entrance.

Milton lifted his boots, clapped his hands, and said, "Look, even if I don't catch you, you'll be drowned by the rain and won't be able to escape... How about we both just make it quick?"

Just now, Milton had opened the panel and scanned Ross.

Just as he had imagined, the crimes were so numerous they were "too many to count."

Even when Ross was still a member of CIASAD, he had been working day and night on this land, committing many heinous crimes.

Leaving aside other smuggled goods, Ross's involvement in red smuggling alone was quite extensive.

[Reselling military-grade stimulants (methamphetamine)]

Large-scale arms smuggling... large-scale organ smuggling... large-scale human smuggling... leaking documents containing classified information... assisting criminals to escape to other countries...

[Smuggling illegal chemicals, including Novichok]

【…】

Novichok—upon seeing this name, Milton chuckled—wasn't that the very poison that had been used to kill him?

It turns out it's connected to the CIA.

Upon hearing this, Ross raised his head in a disheveled and angry manner, staring intently at Milton: "You can be smug for as long as you want, but your smugness won't last long!"

Snapped!
Milton kicked him in the face: "When you try to kill someone with nerve agent, you should have thought that you would end up like this... You can choose to confess now, or you can continue to challenge my bottom line like this."

“You used to work for the CIA, you’ve heard about what I did, you should know that death isn’t the scariest thing.”

“I imagine you must have personally dealt with many of your enemies… perhaps you could even make someone’s death last for several months.”

"Believe me, I can too—I can extend this timeframe for several years. I'm always very, very patient with tax evaders like you."

"By then, I hope you'll be a tough guy. Don't let me pull two teeth and you scream in pain and completely give up."

"..."

When the other "Grey Wolves" heard these words, they couldn't help but look up slightly and glance in Milton's direction.

In the darkness, the man stood at the very front of the entire group, with his confidants forming a triangular formation behind him, each with a different posture.

Accompanied by the pitter-patter of rain, and the man's nonchalant threat... no, not a threat, but a statement!
These dying "gray wolves" felt an extremely strong sense of oppression from the people of this country they had always looked down upon.

Ross imagined the people who had died tragically at his hands, remained silent for a long while, and then asked, "What do you want to know?"

Milton calmly said, "Your money, where the CIA's safe house in Quetzaltenango is, and everything else you can tell me."

“Hahaha… ‘Hell Tax Collector’!” Ross shook his head violently. “I can give you the money, but I have to tell you beforehand that all I can give you is the dirty money I’ve made over the years. You can’t get any of my legal assets.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to give it to you—we have a legitimate company in the United States, and I can’t just transfer money from the company’s account on my own. The only money I can transfer to you is illicit money.”

Milton's voice drifted over: "Reasonable."

Ross took a breath, spat out the rainwater in his mouth, and continued, "Want me to confess? Fine, I only have one request, no, a request—don't worry, not some unrealistic request like asking you to spare my life."

"It's confirmed that the 'Grey Wolves' died in action, as KIA, not MIA."

"This way, the company can pay the compensation to our families according to the standards for death benefits, and we can receive the full amount of insurance."

Milton chuckled, a rare occurrence for him: "It seems you have very little trust in your other partners, and also very little trust in your insurance company?"

Before he died, he was actually trying to protect himself from his own people?
Ross began, “Here’s the thing—I’m with the CIA, and my family doesn’t know what I’m doing; they’re innocent. But the other partners in the company, and those insurance companies, don’t care about any of that. With such huge losses, the partners are only thinking about how to make money and run away before bankruptcy, and they’re only thinking about finding another SAD member to rebuild a dirty glove team.”

"As for insurance companies, needless to say. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, I could clearly feel that the treatment of many people changed imperceptibly."

Milton agreed to this reasonable request—since he couldn't get it anyway, he'd rather the money flow into the hands of ordinary people than be divided up by certain individuals.

"A reasonable request, no problem. Okay, I've granted your request, now it's your turn to keep your promise."

Ross glanced at the "gray wolves" around him and sighed, "I'll give you the bank account information... This money is perfectly safe, it contains $2000 million, and now it's yours."

Upon hearing this, the other "Grey Wolves" looked at Ross in astonishment.

Just now in the cave, Ross calculated the legal income plus the illegal income for the 10 surviving "Grey Wolves," and each of them would barely get 120 million!
So, this is just illicit money, and it already amounts to 2000 million?!
Rose ate at least half of it all by himself!

Milton waved his hand, and a soldier immediately stepped forward to begin recording the information Ross was uttering.

After making the record, Milton waved his hand: "Have Veronica verify it and transfer the smuggling fine to the checkpoint's account."

"Next, the second question."

"Tell me the locations of the local CIA safe houses, as far as you know. Or, you can just tell me how Lopez, who was originally short of funds, managed to scrape together this sum of money for the final battle?"

Ross shook his head: "I don't know where Lopez got this money from. As for the safe house, my information may be outdated and definitely not comprehensive. You should judge for yourself."

It doesn't matter, as long as the information is genuine, the panel will display a prompt to purchase more detailed information...

Milton lowered his head and shook his hand: "Just tell me what you know. Give him the map, mark the approximate location, and then tell me the detailed address, as well as the disguise and entry method for the safe house."

shhhhhh...

In the rain, several soldiers protected a map and paper from getting wet as they began to record this important information.

"...street, shop basement. This is a semi-public safe house; you can enter directly."

"...Shopping mall, xx clothing store."

"An emergency safe house, disguised, with a complicated entry method, the details are..."

"There's another safe house we plan to go to, located in Guatemala City... specifically..."

"..."

Soon, Milton's panel showed that a lot of useful location information had been collected.

After Ross finished speaking, Milton had obtained almost all the information he wanted, so he raised his gun, pointed it at Ross's head, and asked symbolically, "Anything to add?"

“There really is.” Ross seemed to have given up entirely at this point. “Don’t you have ports and control some rivers now? I heard that Russia is interested in selling some small gunboats that they don’t want.”

what is this?
Is this considered a retaliatory confession?

Milton didn't seem to care much about such things—he wasn't actually buying from Russia—so he said, "That's not something you should be concerned about. Anything else?"

“Hmm… let me think.” Ross thought for a moment. “Oh, right, I went to Colombia before to deal with Pablo’s matter. You should know that it caused quite a stir and involved a lot of money.”

"Heh, that was the emperor of the previous generation of the drug empire, one of the richest people in the world, and the kind of richest who valued cash flow above all else."

"He buried a lot of money under one of his villas, several large boxes, worth at least hundreds of millions, but unfortunately no one has found it yet."

Milton knew about this—drug dealers had previously given him information that the money was somewhere at the bottom of Lake Laguna del Lacocha, and Carmen, the former mayor of Tapachula, had also mentioned that the Sinaloa Cartel had found some clues about the inheritance.

And now, a former CIA officer is talking to me about this!

Milton was indeed very interested: "So, you have a lead?"

“Yes,” Ross said frankly. “Many people thought the money was sunk to the bottom of the lake, and Pablo did indeed create a false impression, fooling many people, even many of those around him. But according to our investigation, the money is not actually at the bottom of the lake.”

"Of course, the money did indeed originate from Lake Laguna de Lacocha—Pablo had already realized he was doomed and that many people were no longer trustworthy, so after completing the deception, he tried to smuggle the money away by seaplane."

"Unfortunately, the pilot of this plane got lost in the dark and was unfamiliar with the terrain, and eventually crashed after running out of fuel."

Milton was slightly curious: "Since you know so much, why don't you go and find this money yourselves?"

“It’s not that we know so much; not many people know this intelligence,” Ross shook his head. “Besides, do you know of any aircraft more stealthy than the F-117?”

Milton said calmly, "It should be the 727 I used to crash into the drug dealers' building. Even the most professional person would have a hard time finding any of its fragments."

“…Hahahaha! You’re a fucking interesting guy, Milton! Hahaha…If we weren’t enemies, we’d definitely be good friends!” Ross paused for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh several times. “But you’re not wrong—this plane carrying hundreds of millions of dollars in cash crashed in the Shenaga Swamp!”

“That’s the largest wetland in Latin America. If a plane crashes there, it will disappear in less than a day. And the area is so big that it’s hard for us to search for it in a big way, otherwise we won’t get much money in the end.”

"Finally, there are still guerrillas in that godforsaken place. The Colombian civil war is raging just as fiercely right now, and both the FARC and ELN guerrilla groups have members in that area. Given the current situation where we can't send a large number of people there, even if I were the CIA, I wouldn't dare to go and investigate."

"However, that money probably didn't end up with the guerrillas. We've been closely monitoring their finances, and they don't seem like they suddenly received a large sum of dollars."

"Well, that's about it."

"..."

With the information provided by Ross, the long-dormant message on Milton's panel finally updated!

[Host has discovered a clue to an ancient transnational drug smuggling case involving a huge sum of money. The current progress of the clue is 50% (increasing by 30%). Please continue to find more clues to unlock the purchase progress.]

Milton nodded again, raised his gun, and turned to Flora, asking, "Any news from Veronica? Does the amount of money match? Can it be transferred?"

Flora nodded gently: "The money has been received."

Just as he finished speaking, several rebel soldiers rushed over through the rain, saluted Milton solemnly, and said, "Reporting, 'Hell Tax Collector' Commander, we found several 'Grey Wolf' corpses in the cave!" "Adding to those we killed and captured during the previous airborne operation, and those we killed while they were escaping, the numbers match perfectly!"

"The body is here; you can inspect it at any time!"

"very good."

Upon hearing this, Milton raised his gun, aimed it at Ross's head, and pulled the trigger.

As he did this, the other rebels who had been waiting on the sidelines also raised their guns and pulled the triggers on the other "Grey Wolves".

Bang bang bang!
Several gunshots rang out, and the "Grey Wolves" kneeling on the ground fell one after another.

The strong smell of blood that should have been there was quickly washed away by the rain.

This mercenary training group, composed of former CIASAD members and essentially serving as the CIA's command center within the Guatemalan regular army, was completely wiped out.

Completely disappeared.

There may still be some clerical staff in China, but as a mercenary group and a PMC, "Grey Wolves" has in fact been completely wiped out.

Milton also made sure to give each of those who died from the poisonous fumes a final shot.

"Alright," Milton waved his hand, "Let's see what kind of equipment these Americans are using..."

No one in the resistance made a move—this battle could not have been won without Milton, so they naturally had priority in the distribution of all the spoils.

Forget about priority distribution; even if they took all the spoils, no one would have any objections.

No one can calculate how much money and resources Milton invested to support their resistance; these spoils are not even enough to recover some of their losses!

"AN/PVS-7 low-light night vision device, third-generation low-light night vision device, not bad. I got them all, this thing is very useful, as expected of the Americans, the products they use are really good."

"MRE rations, uh..."

"ALICE modular carrying gear, not bad at all."

"AN/PAS-13 thermal imaging sight, that's good... It can be used by snipers like Ishimaya in special environments."

“All of these high-tech electronic components are very valuable.”

To be honest, these individual soldier equipment pieces were tactically significant to Milton, but their strategic value was no longer great.

But these things are just too valuable; any one of them is worth tens of thousands of US dollars, which translates to over 10 points!
The previously completely depleted treasury has finally received a little fresh funding.

Finally, I have money!
Without the $2000 million and credits, Milton would really be completely starving within days.

After unloading all the equipment from the "Grey Wolf," Milton walked towards his helicopter, satisfied with his haul.

Of course, Milton didn't forget to take out the ticket he always carries with him and write down the "fine" he had collected this time with a pen.

Amidst the stares of onlookers who saw him as a madman, Milton threw the ticket onto Ross's corpse.

Brandon, however, remained solemn and said, "This is the 'Hell Tax Collector'!"

"Even members of the Guatemalan 2nd Infantry Brigade must pay taxes!"

By this time, all the spoils had been loaded onto the helicopter, and Milton turned to Juan and asked, "Is there anything else? If not, I'll be going now."

Although the "Grey Wolves" have been destroyed, Lopez has not been destroyed.

There is still so much to do.

Juan wiped away the raindrops: "We plan to assemble a force behind enemy lines and deliver a fatal blow when the enemy is at its weakest. We will do everything in our power to annihilate them and alleviate the pressure on your side of the battlefield as much as possible."

“Very good, contact me anytime if needed.” Milton waved and jumped into the helicopter cabin. “Let’s go, return to base—take back those cities that belong to us.”

"Hurry up, our lurking enemies are also preparing... We need to develop as quickly as possible and prepare for the next battle."

The helicopter fleet took off, flying through the rain towards Retaluleu Airport.

After the helicopter landed on the helipad, Milton immediately jumped out and ran quickly toward the rest area—he had been braving the heavy rain to avoid going into the cabin to take shelter, all in an effort to show off.

If I don't take a hot shower soon, I might catch a cold.

Just then, a soldier with little sense of propriety walked over. Looking at Milton's appearance, he could hardly contain his admiration.

Look, this is Mr. "The Godfather"!
They are completely different from those who just hide in the back and point fingers, sending soldiers to their deaths!
"'Godfather'! President Arseau just called, saying he wants to discuss some things with you!"

president?

Milton waved his hand: "Let him wait, I need to take a shower first."

"Yes... uh, then I'll just pass on the message like this?"

"Tell them however you like."

Milton glanced at the newly risen sun and shook his head—it seemed the president hadn't slept well at all? Was he constantly focused on the war?

Is the phone call an invitation to collaborate?

After thoroughly washing his entire body and making sure he was warm again, Milton lazily yawned, changed into clean new clothes, and followed the soldier to his temporary office.

Now that Milton's group is growing larger and larger, it is no longer possible for him to take care of everything completely.

Therefore, only important calls will be made directly to his office.

The highest-level calls came in through this red-line telephone.

Milton sat in his chair, opened a bag of Lay's original flavor potato chips, put one in his mouth, chewed and swallowed it, and then picked up the receiver and slowly said, "Arsu... President, sir."

“Congratulations on your victory.” Arsu’s deep voice reached Milton’s ears. “Everything Lopez has is yours now. Celebrate! You’ve worked so hard for so long, and you’ve finally made it to the table.”

Milton hadn't forgotten that this president and López had conspired to betray the country and were still keeping it from him, so he said in a very impolite tone: "Mr. President of our country, is this all you're calling to spout nonsense?"

“Heh… No wonder you’re called the ‘Hell Tax Collector’.” There was no mirth in Arsu’s voice. “Then I’ll be blunt. You can have everything Lopez has now. The Guatemalan Second Infantry Brigade is finished, but it can be resurrected—resurrected under your command.”

"You will have a place in Congress, and your people can also enter the cabinet. You will also nominate the high-ranking officials in the three provinces you control."

"The government will recognize that everything you own is legal, and Lopez will be declared illegal for suppressing the election."

"The premise is that you must also acknowledge the government and cooperate with us in various subsequent matters. Most importantly, you must provide tax revenue to the government."

"This is a gesture of goodwill—anyone with eyes can see that you're almost at your breaking point. By the time you've recovered from this war, we'll have already completed the equipment upgrades. We didn't do it before simply because we didn't want to waste money on a meaningless arms race."

“Your behavior has broken the rules of politics. But it’s okay, as the victor, you are allowed to be capricious this little bit.”

Milton glanced at the receiver, then smiled: "What else?"

“Otherwise, you will have countless enemies. Milton, you have already offended too many people. You have no choice but to cooperate.”

Arsu continued, “Your military victory is certainly glorious—but I regret to inform you that military victory is only the beginning of everything. Without cooperation, you will face all sorts of unimaginable obstacles, administrative, judicial, economic… everything you can and cannot imagine.”

Milton certainly wouldn't agree, but he still wanted to try to get more information, so he asked, "Since we're going to cooperate, shouldn't you first tell me what Lopez used to get the money to keep him fighting?"

“I won’t tell you anything useful until we reach a consensus and I see the first tax payment,” Arsu said indifferently. “Don’t bother trying.”

Milton countered with, "So you mean there's no room for negotiation?"

“An unsurprising answer.” Arsu’s tone remained condescending. “Everyone who comes to your position thinks they are omnipotent. That’s alright, you will feel the resistance… I will give you a chance, a chance to call me.”

"Beep beep..."

After saying that, Arsu hung up the phone immediately.

Milton clicked his tongue twice: "Maximum pressure, huh? Too bad, I'm not falling for that."

Just after hanging up the phone, a spirited Veronica knocked on the door and came in: "Boss, what's the story? What are we going to do next? Have we reached any agreement with the government?"

“Nothing’s needed, no agreement has been reached.” Milton shook his head. “End the war as soon as possible, revive the economy, and accelerate the recruitment of all kinds of talent. We can offer high salaries. If you encounter any difficulties, just tell me.”

"Roger that!"

"..."

After Veronica left, Milton quickly sat down on the sofa, closed his eyes, and took a nap.

He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, a rapid knocking on the door jolted Milton awake. The overwhelming dizziness and nausea clearly indicated he hadn't slept for more than a few hours.

But Milton, despite feeling unwell, got out of bed and asked, "What is it?"

Veronica's slightly strange voice came through: "We have occupied San Marcos, but the local appeals court has declared us illegal... Moreover, they have also joined forces with many local businessmen to demand that we hand over power to the civil service!"

"These 'entrepreneurs' control a lot of jobs, control a lot of food, and most importantly, some of them have foreign investment..."

"What do we do?!"

P.S.: The pain after this tooth extraction is absolutely unbearable! It's been days and there's still no sign of it getting better. This is the first time I've ever experienced what it means to be "painfully dizzy." Typing this with this brain-piercing pain is truly amazing; there might be some grammatical errors or incoherent sentences, so please feel free to correct me.

(End of this chapter)