Chapter 191: Contact, Monthly Ticket 6665

"Who do you think did it?"

Everyone was sitting in the office chatting. Now many people knew who this batch of goods came from.

But what was surprising was that the bad-tempered Big Poli didn't do some extreme things, which made it hard to imagine, but it was also possible that he was waiting for an opportunity, no one knew!

Lans put his hands behind his head, leaning on the chair without any sitting posture, "I have always believed that if we don't know who did a thing, then look at who finally benefited from these things."

"Most people do things with very obvious direction and purpose, especially this kind of thing that obviously makes people uncomfortable. It must exist, and be very direct."

"Although this method may fail sometimes, some people, even if they are not comfortable themselves, will not let others be comfortable, but most of the time it is effective."

"Don't forget, we just sent out a batch of alcohol before."

Lans's words made the few people in the room wake up suddenly, "You mean, it was the Pasreto family who did it?"

Lans shrugged and put his hands down on the armrests, "Very likely. Poli's batch of alcohol affected their sales in the mid-to-high-end market. Alberto asked me before."

"He wanted to know from me who else was dumping mid-to-high-end alcohol in large quantities. At that time, I didn't know. They formed a competition."

"These competitions have nothing to do with us. You go to our bar and tell them that a glass of wine is one dollar, and people can leave immediately!"

"The low-end alcohol market in New Jincheng is very open, but the mid-to-high-end market is just that big."

In fact, the middle class's consumption ability for mid-range alcohol is not very strong now. Seven or eight dollars a bottle of wine, they can reach it at most two bottles of wine a month.

Those who can truly afford it have to look at the wealthy people in the Bay Area.

However, many of those wealthy people have the habit of storing alcohol, not every time they need to drink, they think of ways to get it temporarily.

This determined that this market was not big.

People who do exclusive business can definitely make a lot of money, and can also get quite a few contacts.

Providing stable private alcohol for the wealthy class and the upper class, allowing the gentlemen to enjoy the fun brought by alcohol during the Prohibition Order, this kind of relationship that is not harmful but involves privacy can better maintain the friendship between the two sides.

This is not like the relationship between a pimp and a prostitute. People will think this is a moral problem, and drinking is just drinking a glass of wine. Who hasn't drunk wine?

But if there are two competitors, and one's wine is still cheated and has no cost, and doesn't mind selling at a lower price, then Mr. Pasreto's wine is very difficult to sell.

This is not just a competition of alcohol, but also a competition of contacts, and even involves human nature.

You sell it to me so expensive, but others can sell it so cheap. Is it because I am stupid?

In order not to let things go out of control, then retaliation is also expected.

It's just that what was unexpected was that the one who did it was not a gunman from Sumuli, but the newly established Contraband Administration.

However, this may also be a kind of test. Many people, including them, also want to know the attitude of this Contraband Administration toward these private alcohols, and everyone also got what they wanted—

They are not here to joke!

More than 200,000 worth of alcohol flowed into the sea like that. "Today's New Jincheng" used "Today's sea breeze is grape-flavored" to describe this grand act of destroying smuggled alcohol, as if this had been a great victory for Prohibition!

This move indeed deterred some people, but only some.

"How is the situation in our bar?", Lans asked.

Erwen showed some smiles on his face, "Sales have increased quite a bit, and new guests have become more, but there is also a problem. Should we also raise the price a little?"

"Their alcohol prices have risen by several cents these two days. Beer is almost twenty cents a glass, without whiskey."

"Not for now. The situation behind will become more and more severe. There are opportunities to make big money."

At night, an alcoholic wearing a fisherman's hat and wrapped in not-so-thick clothes shivered and walked on the road. Originally, he still had a cotton-padded jacket, but he took it to exchange for money, and the money he exchanged was only enough for him to drink two glasses of beer.

But even so, he was still willing. After all, losing a piece of clothing wouldn't freeze him to death, but missing two glasses would make him want to die.

He came to a bar on the edge of the Empire District and the Port District, and patted the wooden door hard.

The thick wooden door even made a metallic sound when it vibrated. Perhaps there was a steel plate inside.

The light turned on, and the observation port on the door was pulled open with a clatter. A pair of eyes reflected not much light in the dark night.

"Fuck, open the door quickly, I'm about to freeze to death!", he stood there shivering with his arms around his chest.

The person in the observation port looked around, pulled it shut again with a clatter, and then the door opened quickly.

The alcoholic cursed and entered the door. Suddenly, a heat wave accompanied by the smell of alcohol came. For a moment, he felt much more comfortable!

Even just smelling the smell of alcohol made him feel very comfortable.

There was no one in the bar, only seven or eight people, which formed a sharp contrast with the previous bustle.

He came to the bar, looked at the bartender who was in a daze, and said, "How much is a glass of beer now?"

The bartender came back to his senses, "Twenty, if you want to add whiskey, it's forty."

"What?"

"It was thirty a few days ago!"

The bartender said indifferently, "You also said that was a few days ago."

Perhaps the smell of alcohol here was too strong, so that the alcoholic's throat began to slide back and forth involuntarily. He now had a strong desire to have a sip.

His voice lowered a bit, "Can it be cheaper?"

"Thirty-five cents?"

The bartender shook his head, "Sorry, this is not something I can decide."

The prices of alcohol in the whole city were rising. Even if these alcoholics didn't drink now, they would still have to drink sooner or later.

The alcoholic touched the few coins in his pocket. Really saw a ghost!

He hesitated for a while and decided to leave here to see the bar next door. That side was a bit far, but it was said that the price was cheap.

He was ready to leave. The bartender was bored and asked casually, "Not have a glass?"

"I can decide to pour you a little more."

How to choose between "pour a little more"

He shook his head and stood up, "You guys are too expensive. I heard that the Lanse family's bar prices haven't gone up, and they're even lower than yours; they only charge twenty."

This wasn't the first customer to say this to the bartender, and the bartender's expression became less polite, "Then please get the fuck out of here, and don't come back again; you're not welcome here!"

Originally, the drunkard hadn't been determined to leave; he just hoped to use this method to force the bartender to compromise. Even if it were just five cents cheaper, he might have stayed.

But the bartender's sudden change of face made him feel as if he had been humiliated, and he immediately shouted loudly, "A bomb over there only costs twenty, but yours costs forty, and you won't even let me talk about it?"

The remaining few drunkards all looked over toward this side; some of them had looks of surprise on their faces, while others had blank stares!

The bartender shouted angrily, "Someone come here, throw this bastard out, I don't want to see him again!"

Two strong guys walked over and sandwiched the drunkard between them. The drunkard was scared, but it was already too late.

He was dragged out and beaten up, then all the money on him was taken—a total of only sixty-five cents—and then he was kicked out.

Although he had been taken away, the bartender knew that the things he said had also bred some different thoughts in these other customers.

After business hours ended, he told his boss about today's events, and his boss went to the Red Dog Gang's base camp, a strip club, during the day.

Bill sat behind his office desk smoking. During this period, the bar's business had become extremely poor, which made him feel very dissatisfied.

If business had just naturally worsened and people had become poorer, he wouldn't have felt anything, but the reason for the bar's poor business was that the alcohol prices at Lanse's bar were too low, which made him very unhappy.

You don't want to make money yourself, and you're dragging me down so I can't make money either!

"……The situation is roughly like this; the money I earned on my side last night wasn't even twenty dollars."

An executive's words quickly resonated with the others. In the Imperial District, the bars were almost in a full-scale retreat, and profits had plummeted.

The looks these people gave him also carried a faint expectation—you need to have a chat with Lanse.

Compared to other violent criminal gangs, the Red Dog Gang valued making money more.

Bill hesitated for a while and nodded, "I will have a chat with Lanse……"

After they left, Bill obtained Lanse's phone number through his connections at the police station and dialed it.

During the day, Lanse would be at the office. These past few days, the issue of illegal immigrants had been fermenting continuously, and George had also started writing a related series of reports, covering the lives of illegal immigrants in the Federation, as well as their work, and so on.

These highly newsworthy reports would bring him more attention and might even make him a rising star in the news industry for the year.

Many people came over to thank Lanse for everything he had done for them, and of course, they also thanked William in passing. In their view, William was Lanse's subordinate, although there was nothing wrong with seeing it that way.

Lanse was chatting with people who had come from the Empire. More than a dozen veterans had come from there; they didn't want to die meaninglessly on the battlefield, so they had fled from there.

After wandering around, they finally arrived in the Federation.

They had contacted Aierwen before they came and knew that Lanse would recruit them, so as soon as they arrived, they hurried over.

As they were chatting about some of the domestic situation, the phone rang suddenly. The leader of the group, who had once been an officer, took the initiative to stand up, "Mr. Lanse, we'll go familiarize ourselves with the environment first……"

Lanse nodded slightly, "Of course, if you have any needs, tell anyone here; as long as it's reasonable, I will satisfy you."

They left the office quickly.

Lanse picked up the phone, "This is Wanli Office, I am Lanse……"

I haven't been feeling well these past two days, so I took a nap in the evening, and I ended up oversleeping. I'm making up for it now.