Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 301 Initial Lockdown
Decisive weapon...

Milton tapped the table, paused for three seconds, and continued, "There are just too many types of weapons. We need to rely on the existing intelligence to narrow down the scope first, and then take targeted measures."

"What 'weapon of the final battle'? That's definitely wishful thinking on Arsu's part, but it's also certain that he has obtained some kind of weapon... Now we need to determine what this weapon is."

Flora nodded: "Some kind of tank? Some kind of cannon? Some kind of missile? A warship? An airplane?"

“Forget about tanks.” Milton shook his head. “Even if Arsu were to use M1A2 tanks now, it wouldn’t be able to reverse the disadvantage on the battlefield… At the very least, he would have to deploy these tanks on a large scale.”

What time is it? Where is Arsu supposed to get a bunch of tanks and so many elite vehicle crews?

Even if they could actually get their hands on it, Milton was 9% certain that once they arrived on the battlefield, the football team would take Arsu's head and kick it around.

Flora nodded in agreement: "As for cannons... either he can get a lot of self-propelled artillery, or he can get some kind of railway gun or something big. Otherwise, I don't think there's any way to make Arsu so confident."

“‘Railway guns’ are such old relics, they have very little practical value in combat.” Milton almost laughed out loud. “Since Arsu has placed his hopes on this weapon, it means that the weapon is relatively flexible in deployment and has sufficient self-defense capabilities, or he is confident that he has the ability to protect the weapon.”

This conclusion eliminated many weapons from the list.

For example, consumables like tanks, and self-propelled artillery and the Americans that were recently destroyed by Milton.

Flora frowned: "Could it be some kind of missile?"

“Missiles are nothing to be afraid of.” Milton looked at the intelligence in his hand and shook his head again. “These weapons, which have a very small warhead and extremely high launch costs, only have tactical significance for precisely striking high-value targets. Given the strength of the Alsu government, there is simply no possibility of large-scale use of them… The only way to successfully change the course of the war is with nuclear warheads.”

“The possibility that Arsu possesses nuclear weapons is indeed quite low,” Flora remarked. “That also eliminates some possibilities—those high-cost consumables.”

“Land units are basically impossible, missiles are ruled out… so it seems there are only a few possibilities left.” Milton quickly sorted out his thoughts, while inwardly mocking Arsu’s so-called “secrecy” measures. “It’s either a ship or some kind of aircraft.”

Milton, who possessed memories of his past life, knew very well that at this point in time, the Americans had not developed anything new, and even if they had, they would not have given it to Arsu.

Flora continued to speculate along Milton's lines of thought: "If it's a ship, Arsu has two options. First, they could bombard our ports and attack our navy, trying to cripple our logistics and weaken our frontline troops. Second, they could equip their warships with long-range firepower and try to support the land battle from the sea."

Milton chuckled: "Actually, neither is possible—first, Arsu already knows we plan to rely on their logistics to fight this war. Sending a ship to bomb the port or something won't change the course of the war or affect the overall collapse of the Arsu government; second, that brings us back to what we said before, the cost issue. If a ship wants to reach Guatemala City, it can only rely on missiles."

"Therefore, there is only one answer left: airplane."

Relying on intelligence, battlefield advantages, and economic suppression of the Arsu government, Milton and Flora, through only a vague piece of information from Riley, had already narrowed down the scope of Arsu's "decisive weapon" to "airplanes"!
If Arsu had more money, if the overall situation hadn't deteriorated to the point where weapons capable of immediately and directly impacting the battlefield were needed, if Arsu's strategic depth were sufficient for land-based support, if...

If only one "what if" had been omitted, neither of them would have been able to determine the type of enemy weapon so quickly.

All the slight advantages that were painstakingly gained before may become the key to determining the outcome in the future.

“Hmm… It’s confirmed to be an airplane, but I still can’t quite figure out what kind of airplane, or what kind of aircraft formation, could give Arsu such hope.” Flora casually picked up a document containing intelligence on the National Defense Forces’ air force. “At least I haven’t been able to find any clues.”

Milton had already wiped out most of Guatemala's air force—those few of Alsú's deadly "Dragonfly" aircraft had been reduced to almost nothing by Milton.

He dared not send them out again. Even if he did, and even if they were lucky enough not to be shot down, it would be a pipe dream to try and change the course of the war with that thing.

"It can't be that the US suddenly lent a few F-117s to Arsu, can it?"

“You could sell the whole of Guatemala and it wouldn’t be worth a single F117…” Milton looked at the various intelligence reports, trying to narrow down the scope further. “I think we shouldn’t just focus on the Guatemalan Air Force; the Honduran Air Force must also be taken into consideration.”

"There are quite a few troops currently trapped on the battlefield, and the Honduran military's rescue operation will likely rely on the air force."

After saying that, Milton also took the relevant intelligence on the Honduran Air Force.

With 12 F-5 fighter jets, A37 Dragonfly aircraft, and C130 transport planes, Honduras's air force is indeed much more luxurious than Guatemala's, and it certainly has the motivation to directly send air power to forcibly change the course of the war.

But... it's still the same problem, it's not enough.

Honduras can divert air power from overseas operations, but that's not enough to turn the tide.

Milton did not continue to speculate further—due to insufficient information, all speculations had to stop here for the time being. To speculate further, he would have to continue to gather more information.

“Hmm…” Milton thought for a moment, then added, “Go tell the intelligence department that all intelligence from this period of time, no matter how small, must be reported to me. Often, the truly useful information is hidden in some seemingly unrelated little things.”

"Also, don't be stingy with money, continue to bribe informants on a large scale... send our intelligence agents to Honduras to see if anyone knows about the flight schedules there, or if they've seen any unusual planes flying by."

"I will verify the specifics of the informant so that the intelligence team doesn't have to worry about the authenticity of the information."

"it is good."

"..."

The moment the command was given, Milton's brain was filled with a deluge of junk information in less than a minute.

Although informants are considered friendly under the panel's filtering system, many of them are thugs, even homeless people, scammers, and fugitives. Much of the information they provide is actually quite useless.

It's hard not to gradually become irritable when reading this intelligence.

“Hey, ‘Bottle’, come here and help me sift through this intelligence.”

Flora, who was about to retreat, could only sigh, turn around and sit down to work with Milton.

“Let me tell you… it’s inhumane to exploit your employees like this.”

Milton looked down and quipped, "Stop talking nonsense and hurry up and watch, or tomorrow Arsu's 'final weapon' will fly over our heads and drop nuclear bombs on us."

"Tsk."

The two then began analyzing various kinds of intelligence in a highly secretive basement.

"Manhole covers are being stolen on a large scale in Guatemala City... Sigh... Is there any need to submit this kind of intelligence?"

"The border region currency has appreciated sharply against the Qochal, raising suspicions that someone is plotting a financial nuclear bomb... What kind of plotting is this? This is just normal fluctuation."

"Someone was suddenly woken up by 'Arsu Dies, Milton Shines' while sleeping at night, caught a fish and found the 'Pan-Madre Group' flag inside its belly? Isn't that a bit too deliberate?"

"Holy crap, what kind of incredible intelligence is this? 'Tax collector,' I suggest you give the intelligence department staff a raise, otherwise some people will definitely quit."

"..." Flora would make a comment every time she saw those ridiculously bad pieces of information.

"Take a look at this too, intelligence from a staff member at a Guatemalan airport. There's been a sudden, large-scale reshuffling of all the crews at some lousy fruit company..." Flora subconsciously complained, but then paused, "Wait a minute?"

"The entire fleet and all crew members have been replaced?"

"This...this company has been robbed, hasn't it?"

Milton put down the intelligence report in his hand and spoke without hesitation: "In the entire Guatemala, there is only one fruit company with its own fleet of aircraft. Don't forget, Arsu's new equipment is an aircraft, and he is doing everything he can to hide it."

"Could the sudden replacement of an entire civilian aircraft fleet at this time be related to this incident?"

"I think there's a greater than 30% chance."

"Try to contact the higher-ups at this fruit company, find those flight crews, and do everything you can to get information from those in the know..."

"Let's continue reviewing the intelligence, trying not to miss any useful information..."

"Hmm, look here, it's rather suspicious. Have an agent go and bribe someone to gather intelligence."

"..."

……

Guatemala City.

Several men in white airline uniforms walked out of the terminal building of Guatemala International Airport, looking resentful, and got into a van.

boom!
The door of the van was slammed shut with great force, making a loud noise.

Once the car started, one of the men inside spoke up angrily: "What do you mean we're fired? What did we do? Damn it, the 'Hell Tax Collectors' fighter jets could be flying over any time. We're working like our lives depend on it, why are we being fired? What right do those people who took over us have? What abilities do they have? What contributions have they made? Why are they the ones flying the planes from now on?"

"They fired us, fine, but they even withheld all our wages for this month, calling it some kind of 'special patriotic tax'! Damn it! How am I going to pay my car loan without this money? I was almost done paying it off, and if I don't pay this month, the bank will definitely foreclose on my car. Where the hell am I going to get this money?!"

"Why can't we get in touch with the boss at all?!"

Another captain scoffed, "Heh... Let me tell you, I've seen those people before. They're from the military. The boss was probably robbed too. Now the boss and his family are probably being held captive, of course we can't contact them."

"What?! Are you sure?"

“Of course I’m sure… so forget about it, we can go look for work elsewhere.”

"This happened so suddenly, how are we supposed to find them?" the first captain yelled angrily. "What about our rented accommodation or the house we bought locally? My child is still in school, do you think we can just leave like that?"

"There's nothing we can do; that's war."

"...They have fighter jets, what can you do about it?"

"Damn it, Arsu! If I had the chance, if my assets and family weren't here, I would definitely run to Milton. I can't stand this damn government anymore!"

"..."

All the flight crew members who lost their jobs overnight, almost like being robbed, were venting their emotions.

The first captain, who had been grumbling the whole time, finally got out of the van and walked upstairs with his luggage when the van stopped in front of an apartment building.

As a high-income individual, this apartment is naturally considered quite upscale... However, he is now unemployed, and the entire country's shipping system has been severely damaged by the war, making it difficult for him to find a job with the same pay as before.

Perhaps it won't be long before he and his family have to move away from here, and his children will have to switch to a cheaper school.

All the good life is about to collapse overnight...

With mixed feelings and an inability to face his family, the captain arrived at his doorstep. His expression changed repeatedly. He smoked two cigarettes and hesitated for more than ten minutes before finally mustering the courage to unlock the door and step inside.

Regardless, we must face reality.

He even forgot to close the door.

"Honey, I..."

However, as soon as the captain entered the living room, he saw a truly terrifying scene.

In the dimly lit living room, a strange man was sitting on the sofa, playing with a lollipop in his hand. The child was having a great time, but his wife was almost collapsing, looking at her husband with fear and despair, shaking her head desperately, not daring to say a word!

Seemingly hearing the door open and footsteps, the stranger handed the lollipop to the child, patted his head, and then looked up at him.

The child took the lollipop, looked happily at his father, and called out, "Dad!"

What the fuck? !
This scene is a million times more terrifying than a ghost story!
An overwhelming sense of terror surged through the captain, who almost instinctively wanted to turn around and run away to the police station to report the incident.

boom.

The next second, the door that hadn't been closed suddenly shut.

Another unfamiliar man appeared behind the captain at some point. Judging from his attire and demeanor, he was clearly in cahoots with the man inside.

The captain swallowed hard, forcing himself to take two steps back in fear: "What...what do you want? My safe is under the wardrobe in the master bedroom. You can take it all. The combination is..."

The man seemed to have heard a very funny joke, and he simply took out a wad of cash that looked like $2000 and casually threw it on the ground!
Wow…

“We don’t lack money, we have plenty of money… On the contrary, you are the one who needs money, aren’t you?” The man smiled, took out another $100 bill, lit it, lit his cigarette, took a couple of puffs, kicked the pile of dollars scattered on the ground, and said slowly, “Mr. Jenkins, Mr. ‘Godfather’ asked me to convey his goodwill to you.”

"He can do you a big favor, while you only need to do him a small favor—that's fair, isn't it?"

"Oh...sorry, you're probably more used to his other name."

"'Hellish tax collector'."

(End of this chapter)