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Chapter 519 Piero: Which America is this? (First Update!)

Knowing Dmitry's decision, Navarro's brows furrowed slowly. Selling smuggled goods in Mexico and South America meant that only the CIA would collect the money.

But if it's sold domestically in America, then a portion of it has to be distributed abroad; otherwise, once the product appears on the market, those bastards will come out and stop it.

He wasn't entirely supportive of the decision, and after some thought, he ultimately offered his opinion in a rather tactful manner:
"Can you manage the profit sharing for everyone well?"

Dmitri seemed to have considered this issue beforehand. As soon as Navarro finished asking, he stopped the car at the traffic light ahead, turned around, and gave a confident smile: "The profit-sharing issue is easy to solve. If we don't have enough money now, we can just raise the price!"

"The best version, we sell to Mexicans for $550, and they sell it for $650 on the market."

“We in America are the most prosperous country in the world, so we can raise the price of our goods to $600. As for how much others sell them for, that’s none of our business.”

"The only thing we need to do is to make those who have taken our share of the profits block the way forward."

"Don't let anyone else, not even official Xiaomi phones, into America."

"That's all!"

Having figured out Dmitry's intentions and knowing that he wouldn't be shortchanged, he had no reason to object. His gaze turned forward, and just then the green light came on. He quickly reminded him:
"The green light is on. I'll go contact the other people. You can give me a profit-sharing plan later."

"If we reach an agreement, you can make arrangements as soon as possible."

"Hmm!" Dmitri nodded slightly, gently pressing his right foot on the accelerator. The black SUV roared and sped forward.

After passing the traffic light, two cars sped past them on the left, followed closely by several police cars with their sirens blaring. Amidst the roar of sirens and engines, a gunshot or two could be heard, accompanied by shouts from the police.

The noise was so loud that I could barely make out one word: drugs.

The sudden turn of events caused Navarro to abruptly turn to Dmitri: "What's the drug situation in Colombia?"

In the driver's seat, Dmitry held the steering wheel with his left hand, while his right hand had already taken the gun out of his pocket, loaded with bullets, and placed it on the center console, ready to be fired at any time.

Only after finishing all that did he have a moment to answer:
"The new president of Colombia has taken office. Although he is verbally adhering to the previous government's tough anti-drug policy, he is gradually slowing down."

"The situation will improve by the second half of next year."

"Then we can make a lot of money again."

"Then keep an eye on Mexico. With Colombia relaxing its policies, Mexican drug traffickers will definitely want to grab a share," Navarro reminded him, before turning his gaze forward again.

The cars that had just passed by them had disappeared, leaving only the Potomac River flowing turbulently beside the highway.

Meanwhile, the Mexican gangs they were talking about were selling cell phones on the street.

"Sir, here is your phone. Please take it. If you have any questions while using it, you can come to this street and find the person wearing the same clothes as me. They will help you explain it!"

He handed out the last phone, then smoothly retrieved the banknotes with his right hand, gently rubbing them between his index finger and thumb, easily unfolding the stack of bills.

The denomination and quantity are correct.

"Thank you, generous gentleman!"

He casually stuffed the money he received into his bag, smiled at the person in front of him, turned around, and walked into the alley next to him.

There were four or five people standing in the alley, all members of his gang, except these were from the drug trafficking faction. When they saw him come in, the one in front raised his hand and greeted him naturally: "Carteroia, have you finished your mission for today? Should I have two people take you home?"

"No need! It's not safe during this time, you should all be careful!" After declining their offer, Carteroya walked through the crowd to the end of the alley, lifted the wooden plank at the end, took out his old motorcycle from under the plank, started it, and huffed and puffed his way to the warehouse where supplies were stored.

Before he even entered the warehouse, he saw Piero sitting in the very center of the warehouse through the open warehouse door.

He lay lazily in the chair. To his left stood a long wooden table, behind which were two people. The person on the left had a register in front of him, and the person on the right had a box in front of him.

After slowly walking into the warehouse, Carter naturally went to the table, took out all the more than $1 from his bag, and slapped it on the table:
"20 phones, totaling $13000, click here!"

The person on the left took the banknotes, spread them all out on the table, arranged the different denominations together, smoothed out the creases on the banknotes one by one, and finally checked and added them up.

The whole process took about 5 minutes. After 5 minutes, the man looked up and nodded to Piero: "$13000, not a penny less!"

"Pay out the commission!" With Piero's words, the man picked up 20 ten-dollar bills, carefully stacked them, and handed them to Catelloa.

"$200, please click here!"

Caterroia took it and casually stuffed it into his pocket. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Piero suddenly called out to him, "These past few days... I've noticed that after you sold your things, you went back to your dorm and didn't go drinking or go anywhere else. Is something wrong?"

"Come over and let's talk!"

Piero's face was full of curiosity, but in his eyes, a dangerous glint flashed.

Clearly, Caterroya had also noticed it. He quickly realized that it must be because he had been too studious lately and didn't seem like a gang member that Piero had noticed him.

He sighed, slowly walked to Piero's side, sat down in the chair Piero pointed to, then took out his phone and placed it on the table:
"I've been studying this stuff these past few days."

When he heard that he was studying, Piero acted as if he had heard something outrageous. His inquisitive expression immediately turned into an "I understand" look. He reached for the phone, glanced at it, and his expression froze.

Because the illuminated phone screen clearly displayed a schematic diagram of an M16.

After examining the diagram on his phone for a while, Piero confirmed that it was genuine.

Because of its proximity to America, the most common gun in South America is the M16. This gun is cheap, easy to use, and most gangs have it.

Most gangs, unwilling to accept defeat, wanted to build their own M16s, so the high-ranking members of these gangs almost all knew the blueprints for the gun.

But those below didn't know.

Looking at the image on his phone, Piero turned his gaze to Catelloa:

"You're thinking of going into drug trafficking?"

"no!"

“If you’re not involved in drug trafficking, why are you looking at this stuff? We smugglers don’t need it.” “I want to go to America!”

"Why did you have this idea? I remember you previously wanted to become a high-ranking member of the gang, why did you suddenly change your mind?"

After asking his question, Piero placed both hands on the chair and pulled it slightly towards Catelloa.

He initially chose Caterroya because the man was reliable and hardworking. Now that the man suddenly wants to go to America, he has to figure out why he has this idea, otherwise, there might be trouble later.

Sensing that Piero was about to pry, Caterroia hesitated for a moment, then reached for his phone and started scrolling through it, finding some content he had saved before.

These contents were then displayed to Piero.

The series of actions left Piero somewhat bewildered. He picked up his phone again and looked at the contents of the screen once more.

America, a holy land of freedom and democracy, a paradise for ordinary people. Even if you wish to die, the world of freedom and democracy will call you back from the world of death!

I was born in Niger, a desert region...

In addition to the captivating text, these articles also include numerous photographs, which, when interspersed with the text, make the content more authentic and plausible.

?

After skimming through the first article, Piero slowly typed a question mark. He felt something was off, but couldn't quite put his finger on it, so he could only turn to the next page.

Turning to the next page, to a new article, he was stunned again.

If you love someone, send them to New York. If you hate someone, send them to New York!

New York, the most tolerant city in the world...

After looking at the photos and reading the text, Piero raised his head and stared blankly at the warehouse door. He finally understood where the strange feeling he had just had came from.

Because the America described in this text is the complete opposite of the America he knew.

The text describes America as a sacred place on earth, a place where gods reside.

But the America he knew was a lawless land of outlaws.

Looking at the text and recalling scenes he had witnessed before, he felt a disconnect from reality. He began to think carefully about where things went wrong.

After thinking for a long time, he still couldn't figure out what went wrong.

Finally, with a long sigh, he handed the phone back to Caterroya: "You decided to go to America because you saw these things, thought you were stronger than them, and thought you could live a better life in America, right?"

“Yes!” Catroya nodded without hesitation, readily admitting it.

Seeing him readily admit it, Piero breathed a sigh of relief; at least his heart hadn't changed.

He stood up, put his hands behind his back, and slowly walked towards the warehouse door.

In early December in Mexico, the nights were a bit chilly. A gentle breeze blew in from outside the warehouse, ruffling Piero's wide robe. In the sound of the wind, he turned his head slightly and whispered:
"I don't know which America is being referred to in this article, but I have seen the real America."

"It was indeed a country full of hope, but that hope was only for white people. For us people of color, we would see discrimination before we saw any hope!"

“These forms of discrimination will appear in every corner of our lives, constantly reminding us that we are outsiders, that we came to America to beg for food.”

“Even if someone is involved in a gang and has the identity of America, if the police catch them and they show a good attitude in admitting their guilt, the police will be happy to let them go. After all, nobody wants to work overtime.”

"But for us police officers, we'd be very happy to work overtime."

"Because we are not American!"

"Do you understand?"

As soon as he asked the last question, Piero turned around completely. On the chair opposite him, Cateroloa had his head down, legs spread apart, and elbows on his knees, seemingly deep in thought.

Piero was pleased to see him begin to think, after all, a capable subordinate was a rare find.

His joy didn't last long before Catroya suddenly looked up from his chair:
"Mr. Piero, perhaps your luck was just a little lacking?"

“You…” Piero was speechless. He angrily flicked his right hand, walked back to his chair, crossed his legs, and asked with a mocking look:
"You say I have bad luck, but do you think you'll ever have any opportunities?"

Perhaps it was Piero's overly direct gaze, or perhaps it was something he had learned recently, but Caterroya stiffened his neck and shouted loudly, "I can!"

His shout didn't anger Piero; instead, it made Piero find him ridiculous. He raised his right hand and waved it like he was swatting a fly: "You're something else! You can't even say a few English words, and you think you're something else!"

"Get some rest. You have to go out and sell phones tomorrow. Good luck!"

After saying this, Piero stood up from his chair, patted his backside, and turned to the two bookkeepers who were snickering beside him, saying:
"Stop laughing. Settle the accounts. I'll take the money over first, and you and Caterroya can bring the rest over together."

Upon receiving his instructions, the two bookkeepers quickly lowered their heads, suppressed their smiles, and hurriedly sorted through the money they had already received.

Less than 20 minutes later, Piero, carrying a box of money and accompanied by a dozen or so armed men, walked out. He noticed Catelloa still standing there, and decisively turned and saluted him.
"I can!"

After saluting, Piero turned and walked out of the warehouse amidst loud laughter.

After Piero left, the remaining people in the warehouse immediately gathered around Catelloa and bombarded him with questions:
"Boss, why did you suddenly decide to go to America?"

"Captain, is America alright?"

“America is definitely a good place. Don’t you know that Boss Piero and his men go to America often? I heard they even bought a house and a car there, and his wife lives there too. If America wasn’t good, would he have sent his wife and kids there?”

“That would be great. I heard from them that Piero loves his wife and children the most. If America isn’t good, he would never let her go.”

"But what Piero just said meant..."

"Are you stupid? You think living those days is free? Boss Piero and the others definitely don't want us to make money!"

(End of this chapter)