Chapter 41 Just How Big of a Mess Did They Make?

Mexico, Chiapas State, Red Bay Hotel.

The celebration banquet of the Fankang Cartel was underway. Velvet curtains draped down both sides of the banquet hall, and lavish crystal chandeliers illuminated the entire venue brightly.

Hanging in the center of the stage were several female corpses, alongside the mutilated bodies of several strongmen whose hands and feet had been severed, tortured beyond recognition.

Raul Montoya walked step by step toward the highest point of the stage, whipping out an art-piece-like Damascus steel folding knife, and slashed the ribbon of the champagne tower. Fine wine immediately began to trickle down the stone steps.

"A toast to the brothers who remain forever at the bottom of the Grijalva River!"

Swish! The next second, with a backhand motion, he slit the throat of the Cocoa Cartel leader, smiling as he watched the man collapse and convulse, watching his blood gush out and mingle with the wine on the stone steps.

Amidst the mixture of blood and fine wine, enthusiastic cheers erupted through the venue.

"Victory!"

As the cheers rang out, waiters with trembling hands served dish after dish of food, placing them neatly on the tables.

Carlos, the confidant of the checkpoint station chief, sat in his seat sipping fine wine, and smiled at the approaching Raul. "A magnificent victory."

"A toast to friendship." Raul clinked glasses with him. "Now, may I ask when that batch of cargo detained by your side can be returned to us?"

Carlos smiled. "The final procedures are already underway. I'd say, two days at most."

"You know the true value of that cargo," Raul said, his expression turning slightly grave. "The trucks contain not just pharmaceuticals, but medical equipment... The fact that we acquired it at a low price doesn't mean it's only worth that little. It's crucial to us, and I must get it back."

There was a hint of threat in his words, but Carlos merely smiled. "I assure you, by tomorrow evening, you will see your trucks. You just need to pay the customs duties again based on a cargo value of fifty thousand dollars. I'm sure such a sum is nothing to the Fankang Cartel nowadays."

"Very well."

Having reached a final agreement, everyone was in high spirits, and their attention quickly shifted back to the food.

A dozen minutes later, a Fankang Cartel enforcer suddenly rushed frantically into the venue, wearing a panicked expression as he hurried to Raul's table.

"What is it?" Raul didn't raise his head, leisurely forking a piece of roast suckling pig into his mouth.

The subordinate glanced at Carlos and stayed silent.

Raul put down his knife and fork, looking up. "I told you to speak."

Only then did the subordinate speak up. "Milton... Milton led a group of men last night to launch an armed assault on the Santa Lucia Clinic, broke into the morgue, and then successfully escaped."

Raul's expression changed drastically. He whipped his head around. "Son of a bitch! He's a lunatic. Does he know what he's doing?!"

Yet, after uttering just that curse, his expression softened. "Well... we haven't been trafficking corpses these past few days, so Milton won't find anything. No need to be nervous. Just keep a lid on the news and make sure it doesn't leak."

In businesses of this sort, the Fankang Cartel was merely a glove for a larger interest group, perhaps just one among countless pairs.

If anything went wrong, minor gangs like theirs, capable only of bullying along the border, would be wiped out instantly.

Seeing his boss's mood calm down, the subordinate cautiously continued his report. "And then... Milton, leading his men... went, went to the waste disposal plant..."

The banquet hall fell silent for a moment.

"What?!"

If Raul had merely felt tense upon hearing that Milton had attacked a hospital, hearing "waste disposal plant" made cold sweat instantly bead across his forehead!

His eyes bloodshot in an instant, he practically sprang from his chair, his fingers digging straight into the flesh of his subordinate's arm.

"What did you say?! Say that again, you motherfucker! Where did this lunatic go?"

"Is Pedro a fucking pig? Isn't he the police chief? Why did he let Milton find that place? That cargo belonged to the Sinaloa Cartel, do you know what the Sinaloa Cartel is?! They are true warlords!"

"Even if the drug lords don't come after us, if this leaks, those Indian insurgents calling themselves the Zapatista Army of National Liberation will wipe us out. Do you know they've been running around like rabid dogs cracking down on drugs lately?!"

"Milton is a lunatic! If he wants to commit suicide, he shouldn't drag us down with him!"

Raul, who had just triumphed over his enemies, now felt the crushing crisis of his own annihilation!

The subordinate had never seen his boss this agitated, nor had he ever seen such genuine terror in his boss's eyes.

Trembling with fear, he shook his head. "Pedro, Pedro said... before Milton got in, the evidence had already been destroyed. They only found a small amount of troglitazone there."

"Boss, the brothers really tried their best... They, they were all killed by Milton, every single one of them! Even, even a few of the cops on our payroll died! This lunatic is just too strong!"

"Do you know what? He, he actually dared to open fire on police cars in the middle of the street! He even slapped the waste disposal plant with a fine. He really is a tax collector from hell!"

Hearing that the evidence hadn't leaked, Raul slowly recovered from his panic and relaxed his grip.

Upon hearing of the deaths of so many of his men, and that the Fankang Cartel's life in Malakan Town had been uprooted, he should have been furious.

Yet right now, Raul felt only relief!

"Since it didn't turn into a catastrophe in the end, this matter must be suppressed at all costs!" Raul took two deep breaths and waved his hand. "The people upstairs must not find out."

As for those dead subordinates, most of them were unimportant peripheral members anyway—dead was dead.

The subordinate nodded. "Everyone who knew anything has been silenced."

Raul exhaled. His appetite completely gone now, he turned to Carlos and gave a mocking chuckle. "Your checkpoint produced quite a remarkable character, didn't it? Huh? The 'Hell's Tax Collector,' killing countless people—how intimidating."

Acting very much the gentleman, Carlos flashed a regretful smile. "His accomplices will pay the price soon enough."

Raul sneered. "Aren't these people the 'heroes' on your side? How do you expect them to pay the price? What kind of price could you possibly make them pay?"

Wouldn't they still have to rely on gangsters to do the dirty work?

"Naturally, we cannot lay a hand on 'heroes,'" Carlos said slowly, wiping his mouth. "But what if a fierce criminal imprisoned in the police station were to break out of jail? What if he wanted revenge on Milton for destroying his livelihood?"

Raul dumped the rest of his food onto the table. "As far as I know, none of those criminals are qualified to meddle in this business. Where's the profit? After getting out of prison, what reason would he have to kill Milton, someone he has no grudge against? Why not just take the opportunity to run away?"

Carlos smiled without any warmth. "We chopped off one of his sister's fingers and stuffed it into his lunch box."

These words forced Raul to shake his head in disbelief, and he asked further, "How is he going to pull it off? Just one man—can he beat Milton?"

"Tomorrow, the police department is holding a commendation ceremony."

Raul paused, then finally chuckled. "Carlos... I often feel that you people are much more like gangsters than I am."

Carlos stood up and straightened his clothes. "Mr. Raul, don't you plan to do something?"

With the gang war over, Raul could now spare manpower to deal with Milton.

Raul tapped the table. "One armored M1114 with two SUVs, two M2 Browning machine guns, one MGL Y2 grenade launcher, and 300 kilograms of high explosives. Fifteen men in total, all elites who have killed countless people in gunfights... They can organize it within three days."

For a small gang, this level of firepower could be considered an all-out deployment!

Had he not just annihilated the Cocoa Cartel and seized a significant stash of weapons, Raul wouldn't have had the capability to pull together so much heavy firepower just to deal with a mere Milton—unless he chose to hollow out their entire headquarters.

Deploying this kind of firepower demonstrated just how resolute Raul's determination to eliminate Milton was.

Still, Carlos remained slightly skeptical. "I hear Milton's marksmanship is exceptional."

"The gang still has three sets of heavy body armor," Raul brought out his trump card, accumulated over many years. "The three men operating the machine guns and the grenade launcher will make good use of them."

"Very well." Carlos was finally reassured. "Then shall we say happy cooperation? Our station chief, Mr. Walter, is already eager to meet you."

The station chief visiting in person meant all details were finalized and the cooperation was officially sealed.

Raul smiled. "Happy cooperation!"