America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 232 Laredo

Boketu drove his Wrangler to a hangar in the suburbs. It took him a while to get there, and he saw a family of five moving their private jet out of the hangar to fly off to other places for a vacation.

After getting out of the car, Zhang Ailun went to the hangar, entered the password to unlock it, opened the warehouse door, and Boketu drove the Wrangler into the hangar and then drove out the Cirrus FS50 Fathead Shark.

Upon opening the cabin door, one could see South American imports worth $40 neatly arranged on the back seats.

Zhang Ailun loaded all the equipment from the Wrangler onto the plane, took Blitz to his seat, closed the cabin door, and asked, "How much are the customers willing to pay for this shipment?"

"The market price is around $38 to $42, but they'll definitely pay $40 if they're satisfied," Blitz replied. "Once we get to Laredo, we need to go to a Tex-Mex restaurant to find a Mexican man named Boro. He's somewhat well-known locally, mainly for soliciting customers, circumventing borders, and making fake documents. However, from what I've gathered, this guy seems to have been involved in double-crossing more than once."

"Then why would we dare to go and make this kind of deal?" Boketu was somewhat incomprehensible. He drove the Cirrus Fathead Shark out of the hangar and parked it on the runway of the public airport, waiting to queue for takeoff.

"After all, it's $40 worth of goods. It's not easy to sell them in the local market. The McBride Gang and other street gangs have taken over the Los Angeles underground market. The market is only so big. If we compete with them for business, it will definitely cause trouble. If we want to ship the goods quickly, we can only go to other states. The best option is the illegal zone. Laredo City has at least $1 million in daily South American imports. Our size is nothing compared to that. We won't even make a ripple."

Blitz replied, "Anyway, we only do one-off deals; we're not professionals in the organic trade."

"I want to see how he'll double-cross me," Zhang Ailun laughed.

After getting off the plane, Boketu closed the hangar door, locked it again, and checked that everything was in order before returning to the pilot's seat.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, the private planes in front of him took off one after another. Only then did he inform the two leaders to fasten their seat belts, make gear adjustments and preparations before takeoff, and officially arrive at the airport runway. They sprinted and pulled up on the runway and took off smoothly.

Looking out the window, Zhang Ailun instructed Boketu to fly the plane to the Kilimanjaro Mountains. Although the mountain camp did not have a parking lot or hangar, there was a public airport in the town at the foot of the mountain.

He took out his phone in advance and contacted the Beggars' Sect disciples at the mountain camp, asking them to find someone to drive him to the airport to pick him up.

It took about ten minutes to reach the airport. Boketu contacted the airport tower to inform them that he wanted to land there. After receiving permission, he found an open runway, landed the plane, and brought it to a smooth stop.

"Sir, if you do not own a hangar here and are using public resources, you will need to pay a parking fee of $20 per hour." After getting off the plane, an airport staff member came over to inform them.

Boketu asked in confusion, "Isn't this a public airport?"

"The place where you parked is a newly built toll runway. Due to its remote location, private planes rarely take off or land here on weekdays."

The staff patiently replied, "Our staff maintain and repair the track every day, and the government doesn't provide us with any funding, so we have to charge our customers a certain labor fee."

"..." Boketu was speechless.

Looking at the weeds beside the runway and the rusty barbed wire, it's clear that you directed me to land here. There's not a trace of new construction here.

However, seeing that the staff were mostly older men and women, and there were many motorcyclists lingering there, he didn't say anything. He took out $20 and handed it to them.

"Keep an eye on our plane and make sure those shady characters don't touch it," Bocktu warned, pulling a gun from his pouch. "Otherwise, this guy isn't someone to be trifled with."

"Of course, sir, this is a legitimate airport," the staff member replied eagerly, having taken the $20. He then turned and greeted the motorcycle gang, who took the money and left.

Watching this scene, Blitz remarked, "The more remote the mountain town, the higher the unemployment rate and the more chaotic the situation. Otherwise, Heaven's Gate wouldn't have been here for so long, with so many missing persons cases remaining unsolved."

The Grand Master didn't care about this. That's just how it is on the West Coast. You get used to it. After all, not every place can compare to the orderly city of Los Angeles.

After waiting for a while, the Beggars' Sect disciples from the Kilimanjaro Mountains drove down from their camp.

After getting into the car, Zhang Ailun sent a message to Old Jack, asking where he was.

Old Jack: I'm almost at Mount Kilimanjaro.

Zhang Ailun: Then you'd better hurry up.

One of the Beggars' Sect disciples was left to watch the planes while the others traveled by vehicle to the mountain camp. Upon arriving at the camp, they got out of the car and saw several young men who had been detained earlier that morning for delivering goods, now working as laborers, carrying bricks and repairing the gate.

There were also two unfamiliar faces: a man with spiky hair and a punk girl with a nose piercing and tattoos all over her body.

The Beggars' Sect disciple in charge of guarding the camp also reported: "Boss, this afternoon we ran into another group of deliverymen who wanted to make some extra money here, but we caught them."

"Good job. Pay them $200 a day. They can leave when they finish their work." Zhang Ailun nodded in satisfaction.

When people rush to do hard labor, and they are all young and strong men, the leader of the sect naturally welcomes them warmly. Why not?

Work during the day, give injections at night. You think you can get off work before you've worked a full 12 hours? No way!

Don't worry about food. The canteen is equipped with the same food as the Beggars' Sect disciples, with proper nutrition and regular schedules. The daily wage is $200. You have to take it or leave it! You must be fat and healthy. The leader's rules are the rules.

I also toured the camp construction site, and saw the priests and a few believers eating liquid food in the laboratory. The dozen or so victims had also been injected with the neurotoxin antidote, and their condition and symptoms had been greatly relieved.

The Beggars' Sect disciples pulled the Little Bird helicopter out of the hangar and parked it on the helipad. Boketu tried to start it up, and soon the Little Bird's propellers were spinning at high speed, lifting it two meters off the ground with great power!

After landing back on the ground, Zhang Ailun had his Beggars' Sect disciples bring out live ammunition from the armory and load it into the 30mm autocannon, as well as the 7.62mm machine gun, which was also belted with ammunition. They were fully armed to the teeth.

"Who among you is proficient in operating these weapons?" Zhang Ailun asked.

"Boss, I can do it. I also have professional credentials," the Beggar Clan disciple said, raising his hand.

Zhang Ailun didn't recognize his name for a moment. He didn't seem to be on the list of officers in the Armed Nation, nor was he there when they participated in the operation yesterday. He must have been transferred here to stand guard.

Bocktu explained, "He was also a private first class who served in the Air Force, and he has a lot of skills, including basic operations. There are also other ground crew members, Army members, and logistics personnel."

The leader nodded. That was a perfect match for his expertise. There was no other way; the veterans that Sieg recruited for him all started at very high ranks. They were all non-commissioned officers, with sergeant majors and the lowest rank being sergeants.

However, the Beggars' Sect only selects the best and strongest warriors from among the best. The Beggars' Sect is growing bigger and bigger, and in addition to outstanding talents from various industries and careers, there are also many ordinary soldiers.

Many people join the army to earn tuition fees, but in the end, they don't save up their tuition fees and are essentially unemployed after being discharged. If they get injured or develop bad habits, they will basically be eliminated by the social environment after they come out, and they will have no choice but to become homeless.

But the leader clearly gave them a second chance at life!

Joining the Beggars' Sect allows you to receive beginner equipment at the shelter at the start, and after settling in at a branch camp, you can receive a wanderer's meal, take a hot bath, and have a hearty meal.

The person in charge then assigns individuals to street jobs based on their resumes, such as collecting cans or begging, gradually unlocking new careers and rising through the ranks.

They probably never imagined that there could be so much to learn about being a homeless person!

Zhang Ailun arranged for the other party to ride in a helicopter, with a few people to operate the weapons, just in case.

After waiting for a while, Old Jack also drove to the mountain camp.

"This little bird helicopter will be piloted by Boketu. Private planes need you to fly them; you should have plenty of legal permits, right?"

Zhang Ailun thought back and realized that Old Jack had a lot of life skills. After all, he was a professional bandit. He could pick locks, shoot guns, drive cars, operate kayaks, and fly planes. He had solid professional driving skills.

"Of course, what kind of ruthless bandit can't fly a plane?" Old Jack readily agreed.

After arranging the work, Zhang Ailun had Boketu take off in the Little Bird helicopter and leave the camp ahead of everyone, heading to Laredo on the US-Mexico border. He then took Blitz and Old Jack down the mountain by car.

Upon arriving at the airport and seeing off the Beggars' Sect disciples, Old Jack took charge of piloting the Cirrus FS50 business jet. Zhang Ailun and Blitz sat in their seats, with the latter helping Old Jack plan the flight route and also opening a channel to bring Boketu in.

The navigation voice announcement reads: "Current cruising speed is 555 km/h. The target location is the public airport in the urban-rural fringe of Laredo. The estimated arrival time is 3 hours and 45 minutes."

Old Jack started his private jet, skillfully maneuvered it into the air, and in pursuit of efficiency, he pushed the speed to the maximum. The jet traveled to the US-Mexico border city in Texas at a cruising speed of 555 km/h.

The straight-line distance from Los Angeles to Laredo, Texas is about 2800 kilometers, but flying in the air saves a lot of time compared to driving on the ground. The actual distance is only a little over 2,000 kilometers, and the journey is unobstructed. The maximum range of this business jet is about 2400 kilometers, and it does not require refueling. The actual time required is only about three hours.

Zhang Ailun simply put on an eye mask and began to close his eyes to rest. Meanwhile, Boketu was traveling at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour. The Little Bird helicopter has a maximum range of 500 kilometers and needs to refuel several times at the township airport and report the situation to Blitz. It will arrive a few hours later than them.

But as long as the firepower and personnel are there, everything is fine. There is no risk in flying within the territory. Everything is for the sake of being prepared.

Three hours passed quickly, and Old Jack arrived in Laredo, Texas, in his private plane. He contacted the control tower at the suburban airport to inform them that he would be landing there. After receiving a response, he chose an empty runway and landed.

Zhang Ailun stretched and glanced at the sky outside the window; it was already dark.

This is clearly an airport in the city center, but it looks dilapidated. The facilities, management, and construction are similar to those of a rural airport in the Kilimanjaro Mountains. It truly lives up to its reputation as a rural-urban fringe area.

As they disembarked from the business jet carrying their bags, no airport staff came to greet them. Airport security personnel stood guard nearby, not even bothering to glance at them.

Blitz explained, "The public airport here doesn't charge extra service fees for things like renting hangars, storing planes, and refueling. I specifically chose this free public airport. At international airports, not only are there fees, but local police will also check your belongings. Although they can let you through if you pay them, the process is very troublesome."

Zhang Ailun also praised him for being reliable.

Let old Jack find the airport staff, pay for a full tank of gas for the plane, and buy a few cups of coffee to perk him up, as well as a local specialty Mexican chicken wrap to fill his stomach.

I also rented an old, beat-up Highlander from a car rental shop at the airport; I don't know how many times it had been owned.

The three men temporarily stored their business jet at the open-air airport, then drove off in a vehicle loaded with cargo, swaggering into the city.

The neon lights of Laredo flickered at night, and many Latino Mexicans strolled the streets, sporting mohawks, buzz cuts, and covered in tattoos and nose piercings, looking quite intimidating.

A large number of people were also gathered nearby, smoking and even trading organic products face-to-face on the street, exchanging money for goods.

Old Jack adapted very well to the environment, feeling relaxed and carefree, as if he had arrived in paradise.

As we approached an intersection, a car accident suddenly occurred ahead. Two cars collided with each other, and the front bumpers and headlights shattered instantly.

The white Texan driver and the Mexican driver rolled down their windows, started hurling insults at each other, and then, each unwilling to back down, got out of their cars and began punching and kicking each other.

Seeing that there was something to laugh about, many people nearby took out their phones to take pictures and whistled to join in the fun.

The white Texan driver was clearly exhausted and couldn't beat the Mexican. He got angry and cursed, then turned around, ran to his car, took out a fire axe from the trunk, and pounced on the Mexican, hacking wildly at him!

The Mexican was terrified and ran for his life, quickly getting into his car. The Texan, however, wouldn't let it go, grabbing an axe and hacking wildly at the Mexican, smashing the windshield in a few blows. Then, brandishing the axe at the Mexican, he unleashed a torrent of abuse, spitting everywhere.

The Mexican man wasn't one to be trifled with either. He pulled out a rifle from his car and fired several shots at the white driver, but missed every time. Seeing that someone had fired, the surrounding people scattered in a panic.

But some people didn't care at all, with leaves in their mouths, half-asleep, going about their business as usual.

The police officers on the street were all holding a cup of hot milk tea and a donut, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, not even glancing at what was happening over there.

It wasn't until someone criticized them that they finally walked over to the scene of the incident with stern faces, and immediately demanded management fees.

(End of this chapter)