Chapter 41

·

·

·

Protagonist:

Milton

Mins

If anger could be given shape, Pedro's anger at this moment had already spread from Maracan Town all the way to the Mississippi River.

That so-called "Hell Tax Collector," whom he couldn't even be bothered to look at with a straight eye, actually stomped and crushed the skull of the very person he had opened his mouth to protect, right before his eyes!

This attitude of contempt infuriated Pedro even more than defiance.

An Inspector, what the hell does he amount to?!

"I said..." Pedro spoke in a sinister tone, "Congratulations on cracking a major smuggling case. This place should now be handed over to the police. Did you hear that clearly?"

Walker was already dead. That journalist had taken who knows how many photos. People were gradually gathering around. It was already too late to make a move now. No matter how much he hated it in his heart, Pedro could only concede slightly, giving the other party a way down.

The matter of this American Walker's death could only and must be pinned on the Fan Kang Gang. Otherwise, not only Milton, but even he, Pedro, and even the entire police station would suffer no good end.

A shootout between gangs smuggled in from Mexico, causing Walker to be killed by a stray bullet; or a shootout between local border inspection and police leading to Walker being silenced. Pedro could only choose the first explanation.

Otherwise, the impact of this matter might very well escalate and spread to the police system and the border inspection system. In a severe case, it could even trigger a diplomatic incident!

Humiliated by Milton, and still having to wipe Milton's ass for him!

But Milton didn't seem to appreciate it at all. His tone remained indifferent: "What did you just say? Didn't catch that. Translate, translate."

Leave?

How could that be possible! Milton hadn't collected the money he was obsessing over yet!

Pedro finally couldn't suppress his anger: "Milton, I warn you, don't go too far!"

After roaring, he took a step back. His gaze swept majestically left and right twice. He gave a meaningful look to the police officers who had come with him, signaling them to rush in directly and forcibly take over the scene.

Does he really think I'm a soft persimmon?

However, those police officers did not listen to his order and pounce. They each wore fear on their faces. Not only did they not advance, they even faintly retreated a few steps.

What a joke! Didn't they see that Inspector covered in human blood? Didn't they see he just stomped a human head to pieces? Didn't they see what kind of heavy equipment those few people were wearing?

The matter of the "Hell Tax Collector" directly opening fire and blowing up a police car, they had known about it long ago!

Everyone is here to make money. Who's going to risk their life for you, Pedro?

The scene became somewhat awkward for a moment.

At this moment, the so-called Police Chief seemed to have become a ridiculous bare-bones commander, jumping up and down issuing orders, yet not a single person took him seriously.

Pedro suddenly realized a terrifying fact — the power he prided himself on seemed not to be as omnipotent as he himself had imagined.

If he didn't leave now, he might also "die at the hands of the Fan Kang Gang"!

Pedro finally gave birth to thoughts of retreat, but as Police Chief, he couldn't quite bring himself to lose this face. He stubbornly held his ground and didn't leave.

At this time, whatever ladder Milton tossed over, he would immediately seize the chance to climb down.

But Milton just calmly looked at the several police officers, while simultaneously wiping the debris off his boot soles on the ground. He wasn't anxious in the slightest. After all, the longer he dragged it out here, the more Pedro lost face.

Pedro could only speak up again. This time his demand was near servile. Obviously he planned to give up all interests, only wanting back a shred of face: "Then at least let us retrieve the personal effects of the two fallen officers."

Milton refused without the slightest hesitation: "The scene needs to be secured. Their personal effects will be returned to you later by us."

What you can't get on the battlefield, don't even dream of getting at the negotiating table.

Utmost contempt and humiliation.

Too hateful! Too hateful!

The scene deadlocked once again.

Just as Pedro, humiliated and furious, couldn't help but want to draw his gun and fight the other side to the death, another police car finally arrived outside.

A Sheriff hurriedly got out of the car.

This was that Sheriff who had crossed paths with Milton twice before, a frontline investigator. Seeing the scene drawn tight as a bow, he understood everything at once.

He hurried over to Pedro's side and spoke: "Sir, there's a very important case back at the bureau still waiting for your signature."

Pedro forcibly swallowed this humiliation, stepped down this ridiculous ladder, gave the Sheriff and Milton a cold look, and got in the car without looking back: "We're leaving."

Bang! He slammed the car door hard, stomped the accelerator, revved the engine to the max, and vented his emotions fiercely.

The Police Chief and several officers drove away. To say they left with their tails between their legs would not be an overstatement.

After the police car drove off, that Sheriff let out a long sigh. Looking at Milton, he gave a bitter laugh: "You few... it won't be long before your names spread to every person in this town."

Milton had no interest in small talk with him: "Do you have business?"

"To ease the conflict, just like you saw." The Sheriff shrugged. "Rest assured, the spoils are all yours... moreover, I still have to thank you."

Milton found it a bit strange: "Thank us for what?"

Having dealt with each other three times, Milton also knew this Sheriff was the type with more of a bottom line, so his attitude was more relaxed.

The Sheriff laughed: "I've thought that hospital was problematic for a while. I tried to investigate... but it was forcibly suppressed by Pedro. You guys pulled this off, which amounts to clearing my name. I'll strive for it, and I'll definitely receive a commendation too."

"Who knows, in a few days you might see me and Brandon standing together at the Police Station Commendation Conference on TV, haha!"

After cracking a joke, the Sheriff turned and left: "Won't disturb you searching for spoils. I'll wait outside. When you're done, I'll take over the scene!"

"..."

Confirming the Sheriff had left, confirming they had secured total victory, Milton suddenly took a deep breath. Staggering, he found a step and plopped down on his ass.

Exhausted to death!

Brandon immediately looked a bit nervous: "Boss, what's wrong? Are you injured?"

"Isn't that nonsense? I nearly got crashed to death while racing." Milton irritably rubbed his sore and aching ribs. "Cut the useless talk. Finish searching, we'll talk back at base."

Milton looked at the remaining four "prisoners" with despair on their faces. Impatiently he said: "Where's the money hidden? Hurry up and confess. Quietly. Only to me. So you don't get your stories straight."

Brandon let out a cold smile and threatened the four: "The boss has been itching for action lately. If you don't want your heads stomped into smashed watermelons like that guy on the ground, don't let the boss catch you lying."

Even the police were driven back; the remaining four didn't dare lie at all — they confessed everything they could before any torture was even applied.

Soon, they pried open the factory safe and took out a full 120,000 US dollars in cash!

When those banknotes were laid out, the group's eyes went straight!

"Holy shit!!!"

"Th-this much money? First time in my life I've seen this much money! Those man-eating bastards really made a killing!"

"120,000... h-how much can I get? L-let me calculate! Does this mean I've become rich?"

Newcomer Veronica looked slightly surprised: "Still get a share? What money-sharing rule?"

Milton said casually: "You three each get a bit over 19,000 dollars."

Hearing that figure, Veronica jumped up in fright: "I get a share too? Boss, you... holy crap... forget it, enslavement and abuse aren't out of the question, just go a little easier, my injuries haven't healed yet."

You crawl out of a dungeon and unlock a whole new world, huh...

Milton complained inwardly, waving a hand: "Why so surprised now? Just now when Walker said 1 million dollars, you lot didn't react at all."

Veronica wrapped her thin nurse's uniform tighter, full of contempt: "1 million dollars... he takes me for a fool. Selling me wouldn't even fetch 1 million dollars."

"Because it's obvious he just wanted to trick us into infighting. Once we turned on each other, he'd definitely eliminate the rest, not give 1 million dollars."

"Lop off a zero and I might've believed it a little."

Milton's mouth corner twitched.

No... what Walker said might well be true. 1 million might really not count as anything to him... you underestimate American-style corruption too much, especially the terrifying degree of medical-industrial complex corruption.

In a country where average annual income is under 1,500 dollars, opening with a promise of 1 million dollars is like last life's scam callers saying there's a 1 billion job — even fools wouldn't believe it.

But Walker might really not have been lying... he just never imagined this bunch could be this poor.

Milton finished his mental rant, collected the 62,000-plus dollars belonging to the team and himself, and glanced at an iron cabinet not far away.

"They said those two dead police officers were Pedro's deputies. Let's see what equipment the Police Chief's deputies use."

To work in such a cushy, lucrative, and safe post, those two officers were definitely deputies.

Milton smashed the lock on the iron cabinet and pulled open the door.

"Holy crap... we struck it rich."