Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 24 The Vanished Colleague (Please, I beg you to read on!)

The pickup truck drove on the uneven road, and the occasional bumps repeatedly pulled Milton back from the brink of sleep.

At this moment, his thoughts became even clearer.

"You had contact with Maynard before, right?"

Milton will never forget this colleague with whom he had many conflicts.

“Yes…” Brandon did not deny it, “or rather, Maynard was the protector of the black drug store at the checkpoint. Now… it’s all gone.”

“Last time, Maynard asked me to go to the fruit shop to see what you were up to. But I don’t have much contact with him; I’m mainly responsible for arranging things for the pharmacy with the police station.”

Milton had already realized that Brandon and Maynard's relationship was at most at the level of mutual informants.

Now that Maynard's network of connections has been stripped away by the station chief, and the black market pharmacy and the Van Kang gang have completely fallen out, this fragile relationship has vanished.

It's unlikely we'll get much useful information about Maynard from Brandon.

Milton wanted to understand Maynard, not to seek reconciliation, but to see if he could further provoke the conflict between Maynard and Station Master Varta, thus relieving himself of the pressure from the checkpoint.

Now all his energy must be devoted to dealing with the tidal wave of retaliation from the Fan Kang gang.

As Milton pondered his options, he felt his body lurch forward slightly, as the Toyota's shock absorbers emitted their distinctive "creaking" sound.

Brandon slammed on the brakes and said, "We're here on Green Leaf Street... Sigh, 'Boss,' I never knew he had a secret base in this godforsaken place."

Milton glanced at the so-called "Green Leaf Street," which was actually a row of low-rise houses built with cheap corrugated iron sheets—a veritable slum.

The lampposts, utility poles, and walls are covered with all sorts of small advertisements, even those for armed security guards and mercenaries.

With the Zapatista uprising just breaking out in Mexico and the civil war in Guatemala nearing its end, there have indeed been quite a few similar armed groups arriving in the vicinity recently.

Milton didn't pay much attention to the small advertisements and continued walking deeper into Green Leaf Street.

Almost everyone who entered and left this place was dressed in rags, smelled terrible, and was severely malnourished.

When they saw the police approaching, a deep sense of resistance and fear flashed in their eyes.

“I estimate this place can only provide electricity and water for less than two hours a day.” Milton frowned. “You guys selling illegal drugs, is that all you make? Can’t you afford a better house?”

Brandon put on the captured PASGT helmet, picked up his sidearm, and shrugged: "The bulk of the profits are eaten up by the upstream suppliers. How much of it do we, the ones in charge of sales, actually make?"

"Actually, the 'boss' was betrayed once before, which almost wiped us all out... After that betrayal, the 'boss' stopped doing charity, and drug prices went up a lot. The downside is that more people can't afford the drugs; the upside is that I can support my whole family more easily with this extra income, sigh."

"I'm also curious why the boss bought a house here. But I guess he probably spent a lot of money maintaining the underground pharmacy. He bought a diesel generator and a water purifier for the pharmacy so that it can have water and electricity 24 hours a day."

With 24-hour water and electricity... Milton became even more determined to hold onto the black market pharmacy as his stronghold; he simply couldn't stand life without water, electricity, or air conditioning.

“4 Greenleaf Street, it’s just ahead…” Milton was about to speak when he suddenly frowned. “Wait a minute, there seems to be someone in the house? Does the ‘owner’ share the house with someone else, or has he rented it out to someone else?”

Brandon immediately shook his head: "Impossible. 'The boss' is a very cautious person."

As they spoke, they simultaneously drew their sidearms.

No matter what happens, first assume the worst-case scenario!

Bang! Brandon stepped forward and kicked the door open.

The room was filled with smoke and a pungent, acrid, and putrid smell. Three men lay sprawled on the floor, looking drunk, covered with several tattered Madonna posters as blankets.

The three men were startled and sat up abruptly, cursing, "Which son of a bitch... damn it, a cop?!"

The people here clearly had no liking for the police. Upon seeing Brandon, the three of them quickly stood up, took a few steps back, and asked warily, "What are you doing? We haven't done anything illegal these past few days!"

Milton then scanned the room with a panel from behind to check for any contraband.

Unless inside a checkpoint, Milton's inspection function can only be used when relatively close to the target; it is generally not suitable for indiscriminate inspections on the street.

[Found a Class A prohibited item: contraband tobacco (fine paid)]

Um... the fine has already been paid.

This means that not long ago, a fellow inspector who was also on a field mission came and took the money.

Seeing that Milton didn't speak, Brandon raised his gun and continued in a cold tone, "Get out! This isn't your house! If you don't leave within three minutes, I will arrest you for trespassing and illegal possession of hallucinogens."

The three immediately raised their hands, but still argued defiantly, "No one lives here, why are you kicking us out?"

Brandon didn't bother explaining to these scumbags; he simply raised his voice and warned sternly, "Leave!"

The homeless men could only helplessly pack up their belongings, but they were still cursing under their breath.

"Yesterday the prosecutor came to rob us, today the cops are kicking us out! Ugh! What bad luck!" The tall, thin homeless man spat. "Let me tell you, watch your step, I heard a cop has gone missing around here recently! Humph, let's go, let's get out of here!"

After saying that, the three of them limped towards the door. One of the men, wearing a faded baseball jersey, tripped over the threshold, and a dirty syringe fell to the ground, rolling into the filthy mud.

He nonchalantly bent down, stretched out his festering arm, and intended to pick up the syringe.

"Wait a minute." Milton stomped on the syringe. "Are you threatening me?"

The man glanced at the M29 revolver in Milton's hand and sneered, "Who dares? A cop did go missing here, but it wasn't us. Now, can you give my things back?"

Milton was now extremely sensitive about anything related to "medicine," because it was 100% connected to the Van Conan gang. Milton pressed the hammer of his revolver but didn't raise the muzzle, simply asking coldly, "What's the syringe for?"

The homeless man chuckled to himself, "I sold my blood when I was broke. My own blood may be dirty, but I can boil it in water and it's still usable. It's better than those HIV-infected syringes from the blood donation center."

"Where did it come from?"

"The Qing Teng Charity Foundation at the church said they'd give us free malaria vaccines, but I had a fever for three days afterward, and my arm got ulcerated. I took the syringe after the vaccination." The man shook his festering arm. "What, you're going to bother me for stealing such a small thing?"

He said it indifferently, which clearly shows that most people on "Green Leaf Street" live this kind of life.

Milton paused for a moment, then released his foot and said calmly, "You can go now."

He astutely noticed two key elements—selling blood and testing drugs!
The so-called malaria vaccine from charitable organizations is most likely some kind of unapproved drug... They trick these people into coming for injections, their real purpose being to secretly conduct human experiments.

The smuggling profits involved must be substantial, and the amount of money involved must be very high, but the potential direct danger is relatively less significant.

In industries like this, the main resistance comes from various interest groups. They will use legal channels to build a moat around themselves and deter anyone who wants to investigate, rather than using force to protect their interests like gangsters do.

Milton didn't even need to think too much to guess that this involved the interests of at least four parties: the checkpoint, the hospital, the charity, and the Van Cong gang.

The first three are responsible for providing channels and legal support, while the gangsters are responsible for doing some shady things.

"Fan Kangbang...it's you again."

Milton is short of money right now, very short of money.

Missing points, missing red points.

Perhaps... he could try to intervene in the investigation. As long as he could solve this case, even if it was only partially solved, it would be like breaking one of Fan Kang's gang's legs and alleviating some of their financial crisis.

Strengthen ourselves, weaken the enemy; the direct threat is still relatively small. Let's do it!

As for indirect threats, and how many local officials and interest groups he would anger after doing this, Milton no longer cared about that.

Let's deal with the immediate threat first before considering anything else.

Next target: Qing Teng Charity Foundation!
Others dare not investigate, but Milton does.

After making the next decision, Brandon's voice suddenly came from inside the room.

“Boss, come in and take a look… This thing of the ‘boss’ was hidden too well. It was buried under the floor tiles under the wardrobe, and then a thin layer of cement was laid on top to disguise it. No wonder those homeless people couldn’t find it.”

Milton snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look inside the room.

Brandon took the butt of his gun and slammed it against the floor twice, which caused a small crack.

After clearing away the debris, a wooden box was revealed underneath.

Brandon carefully opened the box after prying open the iron lock.

Inside was a large piece of gold and a very inconspicuous little booklet with the words "Purchase Order Ledger" written on it.

gold……

The "boss" kept nagging that he would go to America if he had money.

Brandon stared at the gold for a long time before finally stammering, "He...he had already saved enough money to go to America. He just couldn't let go of the pharmacy..."

Of course, I also regret losing such a teammate.

Milton sighed for a moment, then mentally calculated the value of the gold to be around $3... He nodded slightly and said, "That should be all. Let's go."

"Um……"

The two tidied up the room a bit, closed the wooden door of the little house they would never come back to, and headed towards the parking lot at the street corner.

Just then, Milton suddenly noticed a Yamaha XT350 motorcycle parked next to his pickup truck.

A man with an anxious expression stood next to the motorcycle.

The man was wearing a checkpoint uniform.

He is a prosecutor!

(End of this chapter)