Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 45 Transatlantic Trading Company
Zhou Yi stared at the mirror not far away.

The mirror surface was slightly concave, resulting in a distorted and blurry image.

The walls were covered with mottled rust and stains, and the floor was piled with goods in a disorderly manner.

A closed wooden crate, scattered plastic buckets, and several bundles of crumpled waterproof tarpaulin piled in the corner.

The air was thick with the smell of diesel fuel, mixed with a musty and fishy odor.

The so-called "mirrors" are nothing more than a set of metal storage cabinets at the end of the middle deck.

The lights were dim, flickering incessantly as the waves crashed against the hull.

In this oppressive, almost suffocating atmosphere, Zhou Yi calmly examined his new image.

He had a buzz cut and wore a cheap, dark polo shirt with a loose collar.

The faded jeans were haphazardly fastened with a leather belt featuring a metal buckle.

They appear no different from the members of those Caribbean cartels.

Just then, a series of heavy footsteps came from above.

Judging from the sound, there were four or five people walking above.

The wooden planks creaked, interspersed with a few vulgar curses.

That was the smuggling ring he paid for, the new-age "Transatlantic Trading Company".

The drugs were transported from Colombian ports to Puerto Rico, then briefly stopped in the Dominican Republic for supplies, before finally returning to Venezuela with the proceeds and goods.

How long has it been since he escaped the FBI's pursuit?
Twenty hours? Or twenty-two?

Zhou Yi was unsure.

Here, time has long lost its meaning; only the deep, rhythmic roar of the engines proves that they are still sailing.

The lower deck was crowded with ordinary illegal immigrants.

Most of them are refugees from Central America, or unfortunate victims of purges.

Unlike us, they couldn't afford the $50,000 "first class" seats and were piled up like cargo, waiting for the ship to dock.

Zhou Yi took out a cigarette case and stood up by supporting himself with his left hand.

Unfortunately, I can't smoke it.

He held the cigarette in his mouth, his fingertips rubbing the lighter, but he couldn't light it.

Just then, someone approached along the outer ladder.

Zhou Yi stepped into the shadows, his left hand behind his back, summoning a pistol.

"Squeak-"

The old cabin door was pushed open from the outside, and a salty sea breeze rushed in.

A thin young crew member jumped down, landed unsteadily, and staggered.

He was eighteen or nineteen years old, with a darker complexion and short, curly brown hair that clung to his forehead.

Zhou Yi quickly sized him up, and after confirming that he posed no threat, he put away his pistol and stuffed the cigarette case back into his pocket.

The young man tossed his hair, looked around, and then excitedly spoke:
"Get ready, we've arrived at the port of Santo Domingo."

"Vargas told me to tell you that we'll go directly from the C-zone unloading dock later. We have our own way, and customs won't check."

Zhou Yi reached out and patted the dust off his trousers: "What about outside the port?"

“There are car dealerships outside the port, run by locals, but you have to pay extra.”

The young man paused for a moment, then gave a sly smile. "Or, if you're willing to let me earn some extra money, I can take you to a safer place."

Zhou Yi glanced at him but didn't say anything.

The other party was clearly a guy who was used to squeezing extra profits out of his customers.

He certainly didn't mind being taken advantage of, but only if it was worth the price. Seeing that he didn't refuse, the young man boldly probed further:

"Hey buddy, do you need a fake identity?"

Zhou Yi shrugged, neither admitting nor denying.

“You’re not like most people—I bet you’re hiding from big trouble, aren’t you?”

The young man was somewhat excited.

On one hand, it was an instinctive intuition, and on the other hand, it was because Zhou Yi had been generous before, which made him plan to find an opportunity to make another fortune.

Zhou Yi tilted his head slightly and asked casually, "So, you want to do me a favor?"

“Of course, buddy!” The young man patted his chest. “My cousin Diaz is a master. He’s an expert at making passports; he can handle any country’s passport.”

"what price?"

The young man held up two fingers: "If it were someone else, it would cost at least 25,000, but for my sake, I'll give you a 10% discount."

"Twenty-five thousand?" Zhou Yi scoffed. "As far as I know, the market price here is only seven or eight thousand, and the most expensive is just over ten thousand."

The young man clearly didn't want the deal to fall through, so he quickly explained:

"Let me tell you, his ID isn't some cheap junk you find outside!"

“Their goods were exposed as soon as they reached customs, but Diaz’s goods were high-end items, and even the system could find matching records.”

Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow. "Internal records?"

The young man realized he had spoken too quickly, blinked awkwardly, and then forced himself to add:
“My cousin knows some people who can help ‘put’ the information in, you know what I mean? This isn’t something just anyone can do.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi quickly analyzed the pros and cons in his mind.

Currently, no country has established a large-scale networked facial recognition database, and airport border inspections still mainly rely on manual comparison.

Based on the current disguise, if Diaz's high-end goods are indeed as he claims, allowing him to sneak onto the plane, then it would indeed save a lot of time.

Otherwise, the journey from the Dominican Republic to Venezuela, and then overland across the border back to Brazil, would take at least six days.

Of course, the worst outcome is simply that your documents don't meet the requirements, you get stopped, and then you have to figure out how to leave.

But that was just a minor inconvenience and didn't affect the overall situation.

After making up his mind, Zhou Yi nodded to the young man, "Okay, take me to see it."

"Great!"

The young man clapped his hands excitedly and suggested, "Diaz works at a club. While we wait, we can have a couple of drinks."

They walked up the iron ladder to the upper deck, through the damp and stuffy cabin to the exit.

"Aren't you going to keep working? Aren't you going back with the ship?" Zhou Yi asked casually.

“Nah, Vargas and his team are in charge of freight, I’m not under their jurisdiction,” the young man said nonchalantly. “I’m originally from Santo Domingo, my home is here, I occasionally go with them on a few trips to earn some extra money, and then I take a break when I’ve made enough.”

At this point, he realized he had talked too much today, hesitated for a moment about whether to shut up, but ultimately succumbed to his urge to confide:
"It's better than being adrift at sea every day. Besides, you know, things are too chaotic in Colombia, there's no point in going back."

Under the cover of night, the sea surface gleamed black, like a crumpled piece of oilcloth.

In the distance, several cargo ships were quietly moored.

The unloading area was brightly lit, and workers pushed goods between containers.

The ship docked, and a mobile gangplank was towed over and placed on the ship's side.

Two customs officers squatted on the steps, smoking idly.

The leading man exchanged a knowing glance with the junior officer on deck, then waved his hand, signaling for passage.

"Come on, buddy, let me drive." Seeing this, the young man whistled and got out first.

(End of this chapter)