A god of beauty

Chapter 131

"Lucky day?"

"Hahaha, uncle, every day is a lucky day."

"Manhattan, have you passed by, this is Queens."

"He who came to give us money, come in."

"Come here to make trouble, the Hudson River welcomes you."

Everyone in the bar burst into laughter when they heard Lake's words, lucky day, for people like them, as long as they live every day is their lucky day.

"Ha ha!"

Lake lowered his head and smiled, then raised his head and said, "I want to find someone. Excuse me, who should I find?"

The white man sitting on the farthest side with his shirtless upper body and a black woman pointed at the bar and said, "Then you should find the weasel."

Lake looked at the white man and smiled slightly: "Thank you."

Say it.

Lake walked over and stared at the curly-haired weasel behind the bar who was carelessly wiping the wine glass in his hand.

Lake sat down and buckled the bar.

The weasel behind the bar looked up: "What's the matter?"

The corner of Lake's mouth curled up: "Originally, I planned to find a simple and effective way to solve the problem I came here."

"Oh."

Weasel put down his wine glass, pressed his right hand to a certain metal object under the table, and looked at Lake: "What is the solution?"

Lake chuckled.

Is there any way to get straight to the point and find the man behind the hijacking of Michaela.

but……

Lake suddenly thought of a question, even if Lake threatens his life, it may be useful to other people, but it is useless to this kind of people.

Because for these information brokers, it is their basic principle to keep confidentiality for both parties in the transaction. If they lose the principle of confidentiality, even if Lake does not kill him, he will not be able to survive.

after all……

This kind of transaction itself is shady. Once they know that the intelligence broker who knows all their dark secrets does not understand what is silence, hehe, they will do it themselves to shut up the intelligence broker forever.

Yes.

Lake stretched his right hand towards his arms.

Click.

From the weasel's right hand came a sound of insurance disarming: "Pay attention, Manhattan, this is Queens."

Lake chuckled, and took out a Stark Merchant Bank card from his pocket.

Weasel frowned slightly.

Lake got up and looked at everyone in the bar with a calm expression: "There are 1000 million on this card."

Everyone in the bar glanced at each other.

1000?

Really fake, don't be Vietnamese Dong.

The white man who showed the way for Lake just now signaled the black woman who was serving him to let go, looked at Lake and said, "What do you want?"

"Simple!"

Lake smiled slightly, turned his head and glanced at the weasel behind the bar, and then said: "Someone kidnapped my woman in this bar, my request is very simple, who can bring the black hand behind the order to me , whose 1000 million belong to it.”

talking.

Lake pressed the bank card on the bar counter.

The white man frowned: "How do you prove that there are 1000 million in this card?"

Lake smiled: "The password is very simple, three one three seven, but this bank card will only be unfrozen when the black hand is in front of me."

The white man asked, "Name."

Lake glanced at the weasel with a constipated expression, and smiled faintly: "Mikayla Vickers, this task is assigned by Mr. Weasel, I think, I have no way of knowing his client's name from him, but You, you old customers, maybe you can."

talking.

Lake walked directly towards the door of the bar and said: "You have two days, whether you can earn a retirement fee depends on your own ability."

"……and many more."

Another burly tattooed man in the bar got up and asked, "If we did it, how can we contact you?"

Lake said without looking back: "When you find it, I will naturally appear."

Done.

Lake's figure disappeared at the door of the bar.

Everyone looked at each other.

quite a while.

The white mercenary with tiger hands on the dark side looked at the bank card on the bar, then took it over, handed it to the weasel at the bar under a burst of glaring eyes, and said, "Man, maybe you can help me see what's inside. Is the amount real?"

Can I go to the bathroom first?
Weasel really wanted to say this, but obviously, this is already impossible. Right now, these people haven't become violent, it's all because they don't know if the amount in the card is real, but if the amount in the card is confirmed?

Weasel swallowed, took the bank card from Tiger, opened the notebook and began to check it slowly.

but……

Even with every move, the weasel can only delay for 10 minutes, and soon, the moment when the balance on the card appears.

Tiger Hand, who was already standing behind the weasel, had a smile on his face and said, "Now, weasel, we need to talk."

A dozen people in the bar got up one after another.

1000 million, although exclusive use is the best, but there is no doubt that even if it is divided among a dozen people, it is enough for them to spend for five years.

These dozen or so mercenaries knew what each other was thinking without even talking. Now that Lake had proved that he had the financial resources to pay the commission, the most important thing now was to know who this person was from their old friend Weasel.

Weasel took a deep breath, looked at the crowd and said, "Rules are rules."

Although he was timid, it was precisely because of his timidity that he was able to sneak into the leading intelligence broker in New York City.

The tiger hand glanced at the mercenaries who had stood up one after another, looked at the weasel and said, "Weasel, we are friends, so, for the 1000 million, you can take the other 100 million, and we will distribute the rest by ourselves, which is your intelligence fee." .”

Weasel shook his head deliberately.

100 million is a huge sum of money, but if he said it, there is no doubt that this is his last huge sum of money. For the rest of his life, he is afraid that he will live in a third country, so he can't run to Brazil, right?
The weasel was thinking about the smuggling case he had just helped a weak scholar deal with last month, and he thought so in his heart. Last month, he laughed at that weak scholar. After all, good Americans don’t do it and go to a third country ?
Other people smuggle people here, and there are very few people who smuggle people from here to other places.

Just as the people of Modu despise people outside of Modu as countrymen, in the eyes of the United States, all countries except the United States are third countries...

only……

Is it okay not to say?
Weasel fell silent looking at the many mercenaries who said nothing but had no doubts.

If it was someone else, it would be impossible for him to name his employer.

But these people?

The weasel is too familiar, and he is familiar with it. He only needs to look at a person to know what torture methods these people use.

Just like this talking tiger hand.

Tiger Hand's greatest hobby is to squeeze a head into watermelon juice with his own hands...

(End of this chapter)