Empire of Shadows

Chapter 190 Contact [Monthly Ticket 666+5]

“Who do you think did it?”

Everyone sat in the office chatting. Now many people know who this batch of goods came from.

But what's surprising is that the bad-tempered Big Polly didn't do anything extreme, which is hard to imagine, but it's also possible that he's waiting for an opportunity, who knows!

Lance put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair in a very unseemly posture. "I always believe that if we don't know who did something, then let's see who ultimately benefits from these things."

“The vast majority of people have very clear directionality and purpose when doing things, especially this kind of thing that obviously makes people uncomfortable. It must exist and be very direct.”

“Although this method may sometimes fail, some people would rather make themselves uncomfortable than let others feel good, but most of the time it is effective.”

“Don’t forget, we just sent out a batch of wine before.”

Lance's words immediately awakened several people in the room. "Are you saying that the Pasreito family did it?"

Lance shrugged, put down his hands, and placed them on the armrests. "It's very likely that Polly's batch of wine affected their sales in the mid-to-high-end market. Alberto asked me about it before."

“He wanted to know from me who else was dumping mid-to-high-end wine in large quantities. At that time, I didn’t know that they had formed a competition.”

“These competitions have nothing to do with us. If you go to our bar and tell them that a glass of wine costs one dollar, people will leave immediately!”

“The low-end liquor market in Goldport City is very broad, but the mid-to-high-end market is so big.”

In fact, the middle class's ability to consume mid-range liquor is not very strong now. At seven or eight dollars a bottle, they can only afford at most two bottles a month.

Those who can really afford it are the wealthy people in the Bay Area.

However, many of those wealthy people have the habit of storing wine, and they don't always try to find a way to get it temporarily every time they need to drink.

This determines that the market is not large.

People who do exclusive business will definitely make a lot of money and also gain a lot of connections.

Providing stable private wine to the wealthy class and the upper class allows the masters to enjoy the pleasure brought by alcohol during the Prohibition period. This kind of relationship that is not harmful but involves privacy can better maintain the friendship between the two parties.

This is not like the relationship between pimps and prostitutes. People will think this is a moral issue, and drinking is just drinking a glass of wine. Who hasn't drunk alcohol?

But if there are two companies competing, and one of them is selling wine that was obtained by deception at no cost, and doesn't mind selling it at a lower price, then it will be difficult for Mr. Pasreito's wine to be sold.

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

You sell it to me so expensive, but others can sell it so cheaply, is it because I am stupid?

In order to prevent things from getting out of control, retaliation is expected.

What I didn't expect was that it wasn't a gunman from Sumuli who did it, but the newly established Contraband Administration.

However, this may also be a test. Many people, including them, want to know the Contraband Administration's attitude towards these private wines, and everyone has gotten what they wanted—

They weren't kidding!

More than 200,000 worth of wine flowed into the sea. "Goldport Today" used "Today's sea breeze smells like grapes" to describe this grand act of destroying smuggled wine, as if this was a great victory in the Prohibition!

Doing so did shock some people, but only some.

“How is our bar doing now?” Lance asked.

Elvin showed some smiles on his face, "Sales have increased a lot, and there are more new customers, but there is also a problem, should we also increase the price a little?"

“Their wine prices have risen by several points in the past two days, and beer is almost twenty cents a glass, without whiskey.”

“Not for the time being. The situation later will become more and more severe, and there will be opportunities to make big money.”

At night, a drunkard wearing a fisherman's hat and wrapped in a not-so-thick coat walked shivering on the road. He originally had a cotton coat, 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 willing, after all, losing a piece of clothing would not freeze him to death, but drinking two fewer glasses would make him want to die.

He came to a bar on the edge of the Imperial District and the Port District and slapped hard on the wooden door.

The thick wooden door made a metallic sound when it vibrated, and there might be another layer of steel plate inside.

The light came on, and the observation port on the door was pulled open with a snap, and a pair of eyes reflected a little light in the dark night.

“Fuck, open the door, I’m freezing to death!” he stood there shivering with his arms around his chest.

The person in the observation port looked around, pulled it up with a snap, and then the door opened quickly.

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

Even just smelling the alcohol made him feel very comfortable.

There were not many people in the bar, only seven or eight, which was in stark contrast to the previous liveliness.

He came to the bar and 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 still thirty a few days ago!”

The bartender said indifferently, “You also said that it was a few days ago.”

Perhaps the smell of alcohol here was too strong, so that the drunkard's throat began to slide back and forth involuntarily, and he now strongly desired to take a sip.

He lowered his voice a little, "Can it be cheaper?"

“Thirty-five cents?”

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

Liquor prices are rising throughout the city, and even if these drunkards don’t drink now, they will still have to drink sooner or later.

The drunkard touched the few coins in his pocket, damn it!

He hesitated for a while and decided to leave here and go to the bar next door to have a look. It was a bit far away, but he heard that the price was cheaper.

He was about to leave when the bartender, bored, asked casually, “Don’t you want a drink?”

“I can give you a little more on my own.”

He was very clear about how to choose between "a little more" and "one more cup."

He shook his head and stood up, "You guys are too expensive here. I heard that the Lance family's bar prices have not only not increased, but are also lower than yours. They only cost twenty."

This was not 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 here again. You are not welcome here!"

Originally, the drunkard had no intention of going, he just hoped to force the bartender to compromise in this way, even if it was only five cents cheaper, he might stay.

But the bartender's sudden change of face made him feel as if he had been humiliated, and he immediately shouted loudly, "A glass of bomb over there only costs twenty, but you charge forty, am I not allowed to say that?"

The remaining drunks all looked over here, some with surprise on their faces, and some with straight eyes!

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

Two strong guys walked over, sandwiched the drunkard in the middle, and the drunkard was scared, but it was too late now.

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

Although he was taken away, the bartender knew that what he said had also given the other customers some different ideas.

After the business 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 desk smoking. During this period, the bar's business had become extremely poor, which made him feel very dissatisfied.

If the business naturally deteriorated and people became poorer, he wouldn't feel anything, but the reason why the bar business deteriorated was because the liquor prices at Lance's bar were too low, which made him very unhappy.

If you don't want to make money yourself, you're also dragging me down from making money!

“...That's pretty much it. Last night, I made less than twenty dollars over there.”

A cadre's words quickly resonated with the others. The bars in the Imperial District were almost completely defeated, and profits plummeted.

The way these people looked at him also revealed a faint expectation—you have to talk to Lance.

Compared to other vicious criminal gangs, the Red Dog Gang values ​​making money more.

Bill hesitated for a while and nodded, "I will talk to Lance..."

After they left, Bill got Lance's phone number through his relationship with the police station and dialed it.

Lance would be at the office during the day. These days, the issue of illegal immigration is continuing to ferment, and George has also begun to write a series of related reports, reporting on the lives of illegal immigrants in the Federation, as well as their work, etc.

These reports with great news value will bring him more attention and may even make him the Newcomer of the Year in News.

Many people came to thank Lance for everything he had done for them, and of course, they also thanked William by the way. In their opinion, William was Lance's subordinate, although there was nothing wrong with seeing it that way.

Lance was chatting with people from the Empire. More than a dozen veterans came from there. They didn't want to die meaninglessly on the battlefield, so they fled from there.

After much wandering, they finally arrived in the Federation.

They had contacted Elvin before coming and knew that Lance would recruit them, so as soon as they arrived, they hurried over.

They were discussing some of the domestic situation when the phone suddenly rang. The leader, a former military officer, stood up and said, "Mr. Lance, we'll go familiarize ourselves with the environment first…"

Lance nodded slightly. "Of course. If you need anything, just tell anyone here. As long as it's reasonable, I'll satisfy your needs."

They quickly left the office.

Lance answered the phone, "This is Wanli Affairs, Lance speaking…"

I haven't been feeling well these past couple of days. I dozed off for a while tonight, and ended up sleeping through it. I'm making it up now.