Chapter 6: Taxes Only Within Machine Gun Range

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Protagonist:

Milton

Mins

Mexico.

Station Chief Varta was sitting in the rear seat of an M1114 Humvee at this time, admiring the scenery outside through thick bulletproof glass.

Beside him, the guiding officer asked very humbly: "Sir, aren't we supposed to negotiate with the Fan Kang Gang? Why check their goods? Why not take the opportunity to kill Milton?"

"Doing things requires using your brain first. We live in a civilized society and are civilized people; those who only know how to shoot won't live long." Varta pointed to his own head, his voice cheerful, "Dear Mr. Carlos Luol."

Varta waved his hand, and Carlos hurriedly opened the central armrest box, took out a bottle of champagne and poured it, then simultaneously took out a cigar, lit it, and respectfully handed it to Varta.

Station Chief took a sip of fine wine, took a puff of smoke, and only after the whole car was filled with the scent of wine and smoke did he slowly speak.

"You are short-sighted, seeing only Milton who hinders your making money, but failing to see the danger brought by Menard and the Fan Kang Gang colluding. He has developed his own armed force and is a huge threat to me and to the checkpoint."

"So, I want to destroy such a threat, and I am doing exactly that."

"Since last time, when the Fan Kang Gang's goods were seized, the trust between the Fan Kang Gang and Menard has been close to shattering... The goods are being held by me. As long as I don't loosen my grip, the conflict between Menard and the Fan Kang Gang will only grow larger."

"But the Fan Kang Gang needs to keep making money; they cannot stop shipping things here. They can only find outside desperados or northern poor devils to help them disperse the transport. These peripheral members are complete expendables; the Fan Kang Gang won't buy any inspector for their lives."

"At this time, if I let the Fan Gang's cars go to Milton's position again and let their goods be checked again, it will make them completely lose hope in Menard's ability and completely turn to me for my help, while also cutting off any possibility of Milton reconciling with the Fan Kang Gang."

"A Milton who knows nothing, has no faction, and has offended countless colleagues—living is far more useful than dead, much more useful, much more."

"Understand?"

By this point, Carlos also understood.

He took a breath, then muttered: "And if the Fan Kang Gang wants to get their batch of goods back, they can only come to you... Menard's network of connections built up over so long will all belong to you! So that's how it is!"

First pretend to know nothing, let Inspector Menard take huge risks developing relations with armed gangs; once certain there is no risk and certain the benefits are big enough, take it over!

Profit without capital!

Thus, whether it is Menard, who has fallen out with the Fan Kang Gang, or the Fan Kang Gang, which needs to transport contraband across the border and urgently needs to retrieve their seized goods, both will have to seek Station Chief Varta's help!

The Station Chief's target has always been Menard, and the huge network of interests behind him.

As for Milton?

Who would really care about a mere Milton?

Varta swirled the wine in his cup: "And I have gained Milton as a 'chip'... We've arrived. Let's see our new friend and how great a price he is willing to pay for this chip."

This knife is useful, but after using it, the garbage disposal plant should be his destination.

Of course, it must be handled nicely; the scene cannot be made too ugly.

"The Fan Kang Gang's goods?!"

How is that possible?!

After a moment of confusion, Milton couldn't help but feel a chill rise in his heart.

Whenever this word appears together with himself, it is hard for people to believe this is a coincidence.

Milton forced himself to calm down, pointed the muzzle at the smuggler Lao Mo, and quickly ran through the whole matter in his mind.

Why did the Fan Kang Gang's car come to my checkpoint position?

Even if the previous huge loss didn't make the Fan Kang Gang and Menard completely fall out, their cars shouldn't come to my position again.

Someone must have deliberately designed this checkpoint inspection, deliberately wanting the Fan Kang Gang's goods to be discovered by Milton.

Who this person is, one can tell with one's knees.

Station Chief! Varta!

He is intensifying the conflict!

Although I don't know what form or means... one thing can be confirmed: the Station Chief will soon use the Fan Kang Gang to strike at me.

Fortunately, Milton's seizure this time carried some personal emotion; after a good beating, the smuggler spilled everything.

Otherwise, following normal procedure, he probably wouldn't have gotten this information and would still be kept in the dark.

The final result would be dying in some "accident."

Milton gave the smuggler another gunstock blow, drew the knife from his waist, and walked to the passenger seat muttering to himself: "This is Varta's only flaw..."

No, not right.

This isn't a flaw at all... Varta simply doesn't care whether Milton knows this news; otherwise, how could he so easily let Milton chase after him?

So what if he knows?

It's just the difference between being killed in ignorance and being killed in despair.

Milton is just one person; what waves can he stir up?

Damn... Varta this beast, deliberately stirring up conflict between the Fan Kang Gang and me—this is truly a sign he's about to make a move!

I must think of a way quickly!

Take this old Mo's money, see what life-saving things can be exchanged; can't wait any longer!

Just as Milton was fixing evidence at the passenger seat, the smuggler lying on the ground gritted his teeth, rolled half a circle, and looked at Milton with despair as he took out that pack of smuggled drugs.

It's over... it's all over...

The Fan Kang Gang won't let me go... this debt will be counted as loan shark interest; without paying back four or five times, there's no chance of a comeback.

At this moment, he saw the fruit knife lying on the ground, scattered from the fruit stand.

Lao Mo's eyes lit up.

That dogshit Inspector wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest...

As long as he killed him, got in the car, there would still be room to escape with his life.

His face turned ruthless, he stretched out his hand and whipped away the fruit knife, and in the moment before Milton returned, with a single turn, he pinned the knife beneath himself.

Milton's thoughts were in chaos; he didn't notice this small detail, merely saying blandly: "The evidence is conclusive. You smuggled unapproved medical supplies. Based on the drug value, you should pay 20,000 Quetzal... approximately equivalent to 2,500 US Dollars in tax."

"Plus a 200% fine, you should pay a total arrears of 7,500 US Dollars."

After filling out the ticket, Milton even asked with rather dark humor: "Cash or card? Visa or Mastercard?"

Fuck your mother, still Visa...

Watching Milton sling the long gun at his waist, pull the ticket from his pocket to fill in information, Lao Mo was already calculating how to solve Milton.

He feigned a pained but cooperative appearance, begging: "Of... Officer... can you show me the ticket?"

Milton nodded: "Look, but no tricks."

Watching Milton approach step by step, a trace of secret delight flashed in Lao Mo's eyes.

He had already calculated the subsequent tactics in his heart, constructing the upcoming scene in his mind.

When Milton closed to within seven steps, he would explode into action, first hacking at his right wrist, making him unable to reach his pistol...

Then attack the chest... no, the throat, that place is more fragile, easier to stab into.

To avoid any accident, Lao Mo had even made a simple contingency plan in his mind—

If the second step didn't go smoothly, then he would snatch Milton's gun.

Milton with an injured right hand would definitely not be able to out-fight him.

Once Milton was solved, search his belongings, get in the car and flee, no one could catch up to him, and he might even make a small fortune!

Here he comes!

The dogshit Inspector is getting closer and closer!

Seven steps... five steps...

Three steps...