America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 220 A Man of Iron Will

Soon, Boketu arrived. Zhang Ailun asked him to drive the escort vehicle while he packed his things and sat in the passenger seat. It was Boketu's first time going on a business trip alone with the leader, and he was curious as to why they were going to the suburbs.

"Of course, there's important business to handle. Less talk, more action." Zhang Ailun fastened his seatbelt in the passenger seat, took out his phone, searched for the coordinates on the map, and immediately asked Boketu to drive to the hilltop villa in the suburbs.

The vehicle quickly left the city and drove smoothly on the suburban highway, arriving at the private hilltop estate in a few tens of minutes.

When they arrived, they saw several pickup trucks with out-of-town license plates parked outside. The estate was quite large, with five or six detached buildings, surrounded by a fixed wooden fence, and a wind turbine on the ground. Boketu keenly sensed that something was wrong.

After getting out of the car, he said cautiously, "Boss, I feel like something's not right here."

"If something's not right, then it's right."

Zhang Ailun didn't take it to heart. He immediately pushed open the gate, took out a short shotgun from his tactical chest bag, and walked in with the gun.

Upon arriving at the inner courtyard of the manor, the two had only taken a few steps when they spotted a person lying in the grass in the open area of ​​the backyard, seemingly lost in thought.

There was also a black-backed dog with its belly cut open next to it.

Boketu cautiously stepped forward to investigate and found that the man was already dead, with an unnumbered submachine gun hanging on his body. He had been shot twice in the chest and once in the head, and his body was mangled.

There were still bite marks on her ankle, and I immediately imagined a fierce and exciting firefight!

Somewhat alarmed, he said, "Boss, this was shot from a shotgun! The bullet trajectory suggests it came from inside the house, or perhaps it was a sneak attack. This guy also looks Mexican."

"I can tell."

Zhang Ailun also saw the broken glass and walked towards the villa room in the manor. The curtain was half-closed. He pushed the door open and went in. Suddenly, half a person floated down.

"..."

Several dead bodies were found; the murals in the room were covered in ketchup and bullet holes; tables and chairs were overturned; and glass bottles were shattered everywhere. The room was smoky and showed signs of what appeared to be a grenade explosion.

Zhang Ailun clicked his tongue in amazement.

Upon reaching the second floor, Zhang Ailun saw a figure sitting in the corner. He cautiously approached with his gun, peeked inside, and saw that the person was already dead.

Wearing a cowboy hat and overalls, and covered in blood, he was clearly the owner of the villa on the hilltop estate. It was evident that he had several bullet holes in his body, and he was holding a clay detonator in his hand.

The ammunition box next to him contained 12-gauge shotgun shells, a Remington shotgun, a Remington revolver, an M4 rifle, two hand grenades, a stun grenade, and a burnt-out cigarette butt dangling from his mouth—a Marlboro brand cigarette.

The Grand Master was filled with awe. Dude, you died so damn cool?!

One person taking on ten people, with only a German Shepherd as a teammate, what kind of god are you?

Unfortunately, after killing everyone, he also died from excessive blood loss.

Mars!!

"Search around and see if there's anything of value." Zhang Ailun returned to the first floor and instructed Boketu not to stand there, but to put his talent for a thorough search to use.

As for the God of War, let's not disturb him; let him continue lying here.

He turned and went out the door, walking towards the flat ground of another courtyard. There was a helipad there, and next to it was a room that looked like a parking garage, which was undoubtedly the mountaintop hangar.

Trying to enter the password with no response, Zhang Ailun simply smashed the glass with the butt of his gun, climbed over the wall, and went inside. As soon as he entered the hangar, he saw the private jet parked inside, covered by a black cloth. He opened the hangar door from the inside out, lifted the black cloth, and revealed the appearance of the plane.

It was indeed a Cirrus SF50.

Zhang Ailun beamed with joy. He searched for the price of the aircraft and found that the average market price was around $35!

It looks a bit old, probably because it hasn't been flown or maintained much, but it's still worth around $300,000. It's a business jet and looks like a fat shark. It can accommodate seven passengers, and the white and red color scheme is quite pleasing.

Zhang Ailun immediately opened the canopy and door, crawled inside to experience it, and found the ride to be quite pleasant.

On the other side, after searching through the street stalls, Boketu also found a handbag in a warehouse. He opened the zipper and, wow, it was full of imported South American goods. They looked like silver bricks, wrapped in a layer of plastic film and shimmering with a silvery light.

There was also a bag of cash next to it, at least $50,000!

Boketu hurriedly carried the goods to the chief and reported, "Boss, there's a bag of good stuff here! It looks like it's worth at least $40! And some cash too."

He then saw the private jet parked in the hangar, and with his discerning eye, it was impossible for him not to recognize what model it was.

Somewhat surprised, he exclaimed, "It's a business jet? A Cirrus SF50? Buying it would cost at least $35, but for long-distance flights, the subsequent maintenance and fuel costs would be at least $5 to $8!"

"We've really struck gold this time. This group is a South American drug cartel. The owner of the estate is a retired web assassin who somehow offended a Mexican drug cartel from the south. They fought over this package of imported South American drugs, and ended up killing each other."

Zhang Ailun offered an explanation.

I took out my phone and photographed some Cirrus SF50 aircraft serial numbers, then sent them to Blitz.

Zhang Ailun: Help me check the history and information of this private jet.

Blitz: This business jet appears to be owned by a suburban estate owner in 19. It has been serviced and maintained at a Las Vegas and Texas town jet facility. It was listed for sale twice on a consignment page, but neither sale went through.

Zhang Ailun: The owner of this plane has now passed away. The incident was related to a fire and murder committed by a group of Mexican drug traffickers. Can you transfer this plane to my assets?

Blitz: That's not a problem. The owner has listed the aircraft for sale twice. We just need to find the sales pages from the previous two listings, change the transaction time, and forge a transaction document and both parties' signatures. Alternatively, we can fly the aircraft back, buy the serial number of a similar deregistered and scrapped model from a scalper online, and use a cloned license plate to transfer ownership—it's similar to registering a vehicle at the vehicle management office. The prerequisite is either the owner's consent or that the owner is no longer alive.

Zhang Ailun: Okay, he'll definitely agree, because he's already gone to meet his God. I'll have someone fly the plane to the hangar right now. You help me with the transfer procedures for this plane. There are also $40 worth of imported goods from South America that need to be sold as soon as possible. Can you find someone to handle the transaction?

Blitz: Imported goods from South America? Selling to individual vendors on the street isn't too risky, but it takes too long, and selling in batches also takes time. If you're selling online, you definitely can't target locals. Jason's website has many wealthy clients, mostly from South America, who might need these items.

Zhang Ailun: Jason is selling counterfeit goods, while these are all genuine products. Are you sure it won't affect his business?

Blitz: Just block them after the deal is done. I'll help you screen for reliable people! If all else fails, just sell these things to those black DJs; they have this kind of fetish in private anyway.

Zhang Ailun: OK!

Once you've secured the sales channels, making money becomes easy.

Zhang Ailun accepted the $50,000 in cash, kept $30,000 for himself, and gave $20,000 to Boketu as a bonus and escape fee.

He instructed Bocktu to fly the plane carrying the South American imports to a suburban hangar and gave him the hangar code.

He certainly wouldn't dare to openly drive such an explosive item on the highway. The state police aren't just sitting idly by; they'd catch him red-handed. If it were transported by air, that would be much more reliable.

Boketu happily took the money, found the keys to his private jet, started the long-parked Cirrus SF50, drove it out of the hangar, and slowly drove it to the tarmac.

After placing the package of imported South American goods on the plane, greeting the leader, starting the turbofan engine, adjusting the cold start electronic instruments, and sprinting the plane's wheels along the tarmac for a short distance, the plane then pulled up directly into the sky.

Zhang Ailun watched the private jet depart, then stayed behind to clean up the traces. He took a stroll around the hilltop estate, and after confirming everything was in order, he returned to the escort vehicle, started the engine, and drove away.

Driving on the suburban road, Zhang Ailun flipped through the intelligence files again, searched for the police station near the rural town of Ma Jiao Manor, found the liquor being sold, and dialed the number.

The call was answered quickly. "Hello?"

"Hello, I saw your listing on Opportunity Network for a batch of vodka imported from Russia. I would like to order and purchase this batch of liquor. Do you have time to meet and make the transaction now?" Zhang Ailun asked.

"Of course I have time, buddy. But we're planning to list this batch of liquor at a fixed price of $5000. If that's acceptable, come to the town police station at xxx, near the Pepper Manor and find Rick." the man said.

"Okay. I'm coming right now." Zhang Ailun hung up the phone after saying that and drove the armored vehicle to the vicinity of the Sichuan pepper plantation in the rural town.

It took several tens of minutes to arrive at the small town in the countryside and stop in front of the police station.

I got out of the car, pushed open the door, and went inside, only to find the place completely empty, without a single police officer. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Soon, an obese white police officer emerged from the room, carrying a cup of cola and some donuts, which he was stuffing into his mouth. He looked at Zhang Ailun with a puzzled expression and asked, "Who are you looking for? Are you calling the police?"

"I'm looking for Ruike. We've spoken beforehand," Zhang Ailun said.

"Oh! It's you. I'm Rick." The white police officer put down his Coke and donut, clapped his hands, and shook hands with the leader with a smile.

He then noticed the armed escort vehicle parked in front of the town's police station and asked with some surprise, "Hey buddy, where did you drive from? Are you in the arms business?"

"That's just a friend's business. I own a bar in Los Angeles, and I specialize in searching for valuable drinks on the market to buy wholesale," Zhang Ailun explained.

"Okay, then come with me! But you'd better not ask where these drinks came from; you should know what you're talking about," Officer Rick reminded him.

"All I saw was a good police officer who diligently served the residents of the small town."

Zhang Ailun couldn't help but chuckle at his fat face, but he managed to suppress it and put on a serious expression.

Rick locked the police station gates after leaving the station, then drove an old Ford police car with Zhang Ailun to another street in town, arriving at the warehouse yard.

Looking at the dilapidated state of the warehouse inside, any random black guy could easily take everything. Seriously, the last time the Grand Master saw a warehouse this run-down was... Too bad there's no small-town white girl this time!

After stopping the car, Rick took out his keys, opened the warehouse door, and led Zhang Ailun inside. "Take a look," he said, "the batch of liquor imported from Russia is all here. You can taste it and see what you think."

He opened a bottle right there and poured a glass for the leader.

After downing a glass of vodka, Zhang Ailun felt a burning sensation and couldn't taste anything special.

Looking at the warehouse full of liquor, the purchase price of five thousand US dollars was already a good deal. He took out his phone, took a picture, and sent it to the professional sommelier in the team to help him identify it.

Melvin: This looks like Russian-style vodka? It's discontinued now, and they don't sell it here anymore. Boss, where did you get this from?

Zhang Ailun: Is this batch of goods guaranteed to be authentic? It tastes a bit sour and astringent, and also a bit bitter. It burns the throat, and the aftertaste is a bit like rust.

Melvin: Absolutely authentic. This drink is best used in cocktails; it's an ingredient, not the main one. I saw someone order it at the Carnation Club before; I think it was called Rusty Nail. It's spicy, like it'll cut your throat open, and tastes like rust. It's the color of blood. $99 a glass.

Zhang Ailun: What kind of good person would drink nails for no reason? $99 a glass, why don't they just rob someone?!

Great idea, I've borrowed it.

Can something like what happened at the bar be called plagiarism?

Others sell it for 99, I'll only sell it to you for 88!

Zhang Ailun put away his phone, and Rick asked, "How was it? Good, right? I asked the people at the Sichuan Pepper Manor; while this liquor isn't expensive, a cocktail made with it would cost at least $30!"

$30? That's too small a target!

In Los Angeles bars, a drink should cost at least $88! Otherwise, they'd be losing money just to attract customers.

"I'll take all of these wines! $5000 each, cash or bank transfer?" Zhang Ailun readily agreed.

Rick was also all smiles, rubbing his hands together like flies. "If we can pay in cash, that would be much better."

Zhang Ailun immediately took out five thousand US dollars and handed it to the other party, drove his armored truck over, and asked the other party to lend a hand as they began to unload the drinks.

It took the officer some time to sort through a garage full of vodka, leaving him exhausted and questioning his existence.

Officer Rui Ke, a diligent and conscientious officer, usually gets so tired from running just a few steps to arrest a black man that he's out of breath and doesn't want to move. But today, he and the leader worked together, carrying over a dozen cases of liquor. He was sweating profusely but didn't utter a single word.

A man of steel!

Zhang Ailun closed the armored vehicle door, sat down, fastened his seatbelt, and nodded in satisfaction. "If you need this kind of alcohol again, remember to contact me, officer! I'll definitely accept it all."

"There will be opportunities." Rick was in a good mood after making a profit of five thousand dollars.

"Goodbye." After saying goodbye, Zhang Ailun stepped on the gas and drove away from the street.

As for whether the people from the Spicy Pepper Manor will come to collect the seized liquor, that's none of his business. Officer Rick will handle that!

They drove back to the city center, drove directly to the front of Sanji's Bar, parked the car on the side of the road, got out of the car, and called for someone to come out and pick up the goods.

(End of this chapter)