Chapter 56: Aftermath

Before even a few words could be exchanged, Carlos never dreamed that the heavy charge of "treason" would be slapped upon him so abruptly.

A trace of fear finally surfaced on Carlos's face, yet he still refused to believe that Milton would actually dare to kill him.

This man merely looked crazy, making grand gestures about everything, yet he maintained a fundamental sense of moderation that kept everyone from pushing matters to a truly catastrophic extreme. He wasn't a genuine madman.

"You're no judge! You have no right to convict me!"

Bang!

Yet within the span of that single sentence, Milton fired again, crippling his other leg.

"I may not have the right to convict you, but right now I have the power," Milton said very earnestly. "You cannot only talk to others about rights when you lack power yourself."

Simultaneously, Milton aimed his gun at Carlos's third leg.

The excruciating pain in his limbs and the infinite terror of impending death finally brought Carlos to his senses.

"Agh!!!"

"I'll talk, I'll talk! Ask whatever you want!"

"The station chief's money and this week's tariff collections are in the safe in his office basement. I don't know the combination, but you guys will definitely be able to open it!"

Carlos had given Milton the impression of being ruthless, savage, and somewhat militaristic. Rumored to have orchestrated the brutal murders of several Mexican and Guatemalan police officers, he was a cold-blooded butcher and expected to be a tough nut to crack.

The fact that he had dared to talk back while staring down the barrel of a gun had prepared Milton mentally for resorting to torture—and even for getting nothing out of him despite the torture.

Yet this butcher turned out to be a coward. The moment he realized Milton would actually pull the trigger, he immediately revealed his true nature as someone who only knew how to beat others, not how to be beaten himself.

Before Milton even asked, he started spilling intelligence on his own initiative!

"Very good," Milton nodded with satisfaction. "Now tell me, what were you up to at the waste treatment plant, and why did you react so violently beforehand?"

Even if the enemy was temporarily insurmountable, one had to know who the enemy was first.

Hearing this question, Carlos's complexion changed drastically; evidently, the answer filled even him with dread.

Bang!

Taking advantage of that momentary hesitation, Milton fired again, shattering his shoulder.

"The Sinaloa Cartel! Their cargo was there! The Zapatista insurgent army is cracking down on drugs, and no cartel can completely control the transit routes from Chiapas to Guatemala, so they're looking for locals to help! Goddammit, do you know what the Sinaloa Cartel is? Do you know Guzmán? Do you have any idea how many people you've almost gotten killed?!"

"They even dare to assassinate mayors! I've even heard of cartel members daring to slaughter US DEA agents!"

"The Fanco Gang only managed to outmaneuver the Coca Gang in their turf war, earning the qualification to contact one of their mid-level bosses and work for them! Without this profit margin, the Fanco Gang could never have defeated the Coca Gang!"

As expected... Milton felt surprisingly little shock.

Near the borders of Mexico, the absence of narcotics would be the real anomaly, let alone the fact that this place had always been a vital conduit for illicit drug raw materials moving from Central America into Mexico.

Major cartels, insurgent factions, and even government forces had all engaged in fierce clashes here, each striving to seize control of this crucial artery.

Exporting raw materials, importing refined narcotics... The stakes involved were enough to cost countless lives. Carlos was not lying.

This was indeed an enemy entirely beyond their current reach.

Yet Milton was not overly frightened... First of all, the core forces of the Sinaloa Cartel were not stationed here, and with the insurgent army acting as a buffer in the front, there was no immediate danger. Secondly, the proxy of a mid-level boss by no means represented the entire Sinaloa Cartel.

The most pressing and direct threat right now remained the local departments, utterly corrupted by the drug syndicates.

To eradicate the Fanco Gang, take control of the checkpoint, eliminate the various external factions in the town, and forge an internal force entirely of one's own... Truly, a long and arduous road lay ahead.

"How much better would it have been if you'd been this cooperative from the start?" Milton taunted. "Now, next question—how much money do you plan to spend to buy your life? No, wait, how large a fine do you think will offset your treason?"

Carlos spoke with difficulty: "Why should I expect you to spare me after you get the money?"

"Because you have no choice, just as you never liked giving others a choice. Now, give me the cash locations, bank accounts, and passwords."

Milton would keep the cash and other physical valuables for himself, while filthy assets like direct bank transfers would be tossed to Flora's team to be distributed as payroll.

As an offshore entity, they could accept such massive, unaccounted-for transfers and possessed ways to launder them clean.

"Then how will you verify the information I provide?"

At this moment, Carlos retained none of the imposing aura of a regional overlord; he cringed abjectly, displaying only his weak and pathetic side, begging solely to keep his life.

In truth, gangs like this—and even the rulers of such bizarre, petty states—could almost entirely be summed up by a single word: vermin.

The so-called "godfathers" and "drug lords" were either bullies who only knew how to terrorize the defenseless, or mere compradors.

Where were there any true warlords?

Could a genuine hero or warlord survive in a place like this, engaging in trades that peddled banned substances to pregnant women, sold opioid painkillers to children, and hung the families of fallen police officers from traffic lights?

Milton replied coldly: "You still have family. I will hunt them down one by one, slaughter them all, and hang them from the traffic lights. You know I will do it."

To deal with wicked men, one must use the methods of wicked men.

Having always been the one to utter such threats to others, Carlos heard them directed at him for the very first time and hastily blurted out: "I'll talk, I'll talk!"

"'Poison', take pictures. 'Bottle', write down what he says."

"Understood."

...

A few minutes later, Milton had acquired everything he desired—including the cash and valuables stored inside the checkpoint amounting to the equivalent of 150,000 US dollars, alongside a Citibank certificate of deposit close to 100,000 dollars.

In truth, even if Carlos had attempted a deception and the certificate details proved false, Milton would not have cared overly much.

The haul of valuables alone, along with that massive truckload of medical supplies and pharmaceuticals, constituted a tremendous harvest.

Moreover, the devastating blow dealt to the relationship between the checkpoint and the Fanco Gang by this operation possessed incalculable value.

Their cooperative bond had rested entirely upon that single truck; now that the truck had been seized, what cooperation remained?

Even if they didn't completely break ties, rebuilding trust and the foundation for deep collaboration would require a protracted length of time.

This meant the enemy would no longer present a united front—a monumental strategic victory!

Milton looked toward Flora: "This certificate of deposit belongs to you all, serving as this month's wages. How you launder it is none of my concern; whatever is extra is yours, and if it falls short, that's on you too. Any issues?"

With reliable channels at disposal, laundering nearly 100,000 in illicit funds would yield roughly 60,000, which far exceeded the previously agreed monthly salary and made for a win-win situation.

Who would ever turn down making extra money? Flora nodded: "No problem."

"Poison" was also delighted, though he hadn't forgotten business. He pointed at the three men on the ground and asked: "By the way, Boss, how do you plan to deal with these three?"

Hearing this, Milton turned his gaze toward Carlos.