Chapter 1092: The Attack

The weather in late June was starting to get warm. Fran sat in the study on the third floor of his estate.

A large terrace was outside his study. Sometimes, when taking a break from work, he would go out there.

The terrace had a sun umbrella, a barbecue grill, and various lounging devices. He enjoyed sitting in the wicker chair on nice days, savoring expensive cigars from around the world and enjoying the idle time.

But he wasn't doing that today, as the room was full of people.

He retracted his gaze from the sunny view outside the window. "You've had over a week. I hope this long period has brought me some useful information."

"Lately, when I speak with some of my contacts, you know, sometimes we call each other to check in."

"They are also asking me what I intend to do."

"The Lance family has repeatedly humiliated us. Combined with past grievances, I don't want us to continue being seen as clowns."

The Perez family had not been fundamentally harmed by Lance's previous attacks, though a few direct members had died.

For such a massive gang family, with a huge number of peripheral members, their files occupied two dedicated rooms in the FBI.

They were supposed to be the rulers of the underworld, not a joke.

For the past week, they had been discussing how to move against Lance and achieve the desired outcome.

Bob sat at the front of the group. "We have clarified the Lance family's liquor transportation routes and schedule to the New Golden City. The next shipment is in two days."

Fran looked at Bob. As conflicts with the Lance family constantly escalated, Bob had to bear some responsibility.

However, Fran wouldn't mention this. It was detrimental to family unity. And given how long they had known each other, he would allow Bob to make mistakes and forgive him, but he wouldn't tolerate it indefinitely.

"So, you plan to attack their convoy?"

Bob nodded. "You may not realize it, but the Lance family is selling liquor through internal bars at the embassies, and the profits are huge. It's practically public commerce."

"The Federal government wants to win over the countries behind those embassies, so both Congress and the Hazardous Materials Administration pretend not to notice."

"With four embassies selling liquor simultaneously, they are likely selling about seventy to eighty thousand dollars worth of liquor in those bars every day."

"Whiskey, beer, and other items."

Fran's expression shifted slightly. "How much profit is in that?"

"Over fifty thousand dollars," Bob had clearly done his homework. The figure intrigued Fran.

"That's a lot of money!" He pursed his lips and picked up a small trinket on the desk, a habit he had when thinking.

It was a small, wooden puppet, now so dark that its original color and texture were unrecognizable. It was rumored to be a toy carved by his father when Fran was a child, and he had kept it ever since.

When he held it, he felt his family was with him!

Of course, this was what he claimed; only he knew the truth.

"They must transport a lot of liquor with each shipment, right?"

Bob nodded again. "About forty to fifty thousand dollars worth of goods. That's enough for their bars to sell for one to two weeks."

Fran made a decision. "Hitting this shipment not only gives us all that liquor but also causes him a huge loss. If we continuously intercept their shipments, his business will be ruined."

"Forty or fifty thousand dollars in profit a day means over ten million dollars a year. Liquor truly is the biggest moneymaker!"

Fran couldn't help but sigh with emotion. Maple Herb was also profitable, but it was a niche business with a competitor like Ghost Face Mushroom.

Furthermore, they weren't the only ones in the Federation doing that business; it was far from a massive monopoly. Conversely, the profit from the liquor business was surging, entering a boom period.

Because people's incomes had noticeably increased, many who couldn't afford liquor before could afford it now.

Even if they only bought drinks once every three or five days, it resulted in exponential profit growth.

Fran believed that disrupting Lance's supply line would cause him long-term pain.

"What's the plan?" He still looked at Bob. He was pleased with the intelligence Bob had gathered; at least Bob was getting things done.

Regardless of his faults, being competent was what mattered.

The family organization used to have many capable people, but now the number had decreased.

The Perez family's name was too big. Many problems were solved simply by stating their family name, which made many members lazy.

Bob looked toward Peggy in the crowd. "I plan to have Peggy handle it. He'll take some men to block the convoy, eliminate the escorts, and drive the trucks back. We'll then spread the word that we did it."

Paige was the man who clashed with Lance in the restaurant and was stabbed in the thigh by Lance.

While his wound had long healed and he had no issues walking, the injury had damaged not only his body but his mind.

He still felt pain in his wound when walking, and sometimes felt discomfort. This was all because of Lance.

He had consulted the best doctors, who examined his wound thoroughly and told him it had healed perfectly. The pain and discomfort he felt were psychological, not physiological.

Simply put, he had a psychological barrier. To solve his problem, the psychologist suggested he eliminate the person who inflicted the shame.

When Bob discussed this operation privately, Paige immediately volunteered to lead the attack!

If Bob moved against Lance because of his misjudgments, aiming to reverse the embarrassing situation and erase his career stain,

Then Paige's strong anti-Lance stance was to wipe away his shame and solve his psychological and emotional issues.

Fran looked at Paige, who stepped forward. "I am ready, Fran."

Fran looked at him and nodded slightly. "What then?"

"If you intercept their supply line, what's next?"

Bob adjusted his posture. "A ten-million-dollar annual profit is affected, and people will know we did it. He won't take that lying down. That's when the fighting will start."

"Most of his people are in Likalai State, making it difficult to mobilize them, and their numbers aren't large."

"If they fight us on our home turf, their chances of winning are slim."

"We just need to wait for them to attack us and then launch a defensive counter-attack."

"The battlefield won't be in the New Golden City."

The New Golden City had too many political figures and celebrities. Any large-scale gunfight here would immediately draw interference from the upper echelons. So, Bob's intention was to lure Lance and his men out of the New Golden City.

Whether Lance would take the bait was uncertain, but trying was better than not trying. Furthermore, the Perez family desperately needed a "victory" against the Lance family.

Doing nothing would only lead to continuous disappointment among the lower-ranking members and periphery, ultimately eroding confidence in the family and fostering unhealthy emotions.

Fran thought over the entire plan and nodded. "It sounds acceptable. Since you have made a decision..."

He looked at Paige. "...then go ahead and do it."

"I'll await your good news."

Bob nodded solemnly. "I will bring you good news..."

Meanwhile, the bartender at the bar in Cassia's Embassy realized that their remaining liquor stock was only enough for four or five days of sales, meaning they needed to restock from Likalai State.

The restock wasn't done directly via train or ship to the New Golden City station or harbor. This area, as the "headquarters" of Prohibition, was strictly managed, and enforcement was rigorous.

The workers at the station and harbor often reported smuggling if they noticed anything suspicious.

This earned them handsome rewards, and as long as the Hazardous Materials Administration didn't publicly expose them, there was no danger.

Many laborers had achieved class mobility by reporting smugglers.

This was no joke. The goods shipped to the New Golden City were often valued in the tens of thousands. According to regulations issued by the Prohibition Committee, informants could receive a substantial percentage of the confiscated value, up to half!

Even though Lance had connections in Congress, and many knew he was part of Senator Cleveland's faction, if he were caught in the act, even Lance would struggle to handle it.

He couldn't possibly expect such a large department and the Prohibition Committee in Congress to pretend nothing happened publicly.

Therefore, the liquor was not shipped directly into the New Golden City. Instead, it was unloaded south of the New Golden City and then transported by truck.

The entire transport cycle took about two and a half days. The bars here only stocked four to six days' worth of inventory to avoid excessive accumulation.

This was Lance's initial decision. Bars in the New Golden City and elsewhere followed this rule, established during the early days of fighting the Hazardous Materials Administration.

Even if a bar was shut down, the liquor loss wouldn't be massive, and the case value wouldn't be astronomically high.

Lance knew that if a case value was outrageously high and made public, even the backing of the President and Congress wouldn't save him!

It was like the patriarchs and even the Pope who ran into trouble. If public opinion and popular will reached a certain threshold, even God's protection wouldn't suffice!

The bartender reported the situation to the manager, who immediately called the senior cadre in Likalai State. Melo immediately ordered the loading of the ship.

Sea transport was the fastest method. Sailing directly north along the coastline, the ship could unload in less than two days, and the liquor could be trucked to the New Golden City in another half-day.

The shipping process in Likalai State was already mature. Batches of liquor were loaded directly from the harbor warehouse onto the ship.

Lance was a man who knew how to maintain his allies' interests. Periodically, he would allow the local Hazardous Materials Administration to "confiscate" a shipment of illegal liquor, ensuring they constantly received credit and bonuses.

Crucially, they bore no risk. They only had to show up at a designated time and place and capture a group of smugglers.

The State Prohibition Office knew the situation here, and it was similar in other areas.

The difference was that losses in other cities were shared by the local gangs, while in Golden Port City, Lance shouldered the losses himself.

Everyone in the process benefited, so naturally, they harbored no ill will or objections.

If they did have issues, they could approach Lance privately, and he would solve them if possible.

The people at the dock reported the ship's departure to Melo. Melo notified the New Golden City side, and a team began traveling to the small southern town to receive the goods.

They would then load the goods and return.

Two days later, in the middle of the night, the ship loaded with liquor arrived at the small town's seaside dock. The area was quiet.

The locals knew this was a smuggling window. Not only the Lance family, but many other smuggling organizations unloaded goods here.

Local residents had no problems with these groups. The dock area wasn't large, and the houses nearby were rented out by the gangs at high prices.

Furthermore, the gangs consumed heavily while staying and operating there.

The purchasing power of these high-earning gang members was unquestionable. Some local residents even participated in the smuggling benefits—

They bought small, scattered goods, perhaps just a case or two of liquor, from the smugglers at low prices, then sold them in surrounding cities or even the New Golden City.

This small-scale smuggling was difficult to detect on the road, yet highly profitable.

Officials were generally aware of the situation but, constrained by their organizational limitations, had no effective solutions.

They could only put up signs declaring "Smuggling is a serious economic crime" in visible places, but they couldn't do much more.

When the goods were loaded onto the trucks, the combat captain responsible for the transport deliberately left fifteen cases of liquor at the dock. This was part of the deal: an alternative form of payment to the locals for assisting in the smuggling.

With everything loaded, the six trucks set off toward the New Golden City.

They were expected to enter the New Golden City in three hours and deliver the liquor to the warehouse before 5:00 AM.

The interstate highway at night was quiet, and somewhat unsettling.

Studies had shown that drivers on the interstate at night were more susceptible to psychological issues.

This was because they were surrounded by pitch-black wilderness, with only the road for about ten meters ahead illuminated by the headlights. Initially, it might seem fine.

But if the drive was prolonged and they had no one to talk to, the continuous repression of being confined to darkness would take a psychological toll.

Perhaps this was why serial killers often operated on interstate highways. They needed an outlet to release the constantly mounting pressure and fear inside them.

Some resisted fear, while others became fear itself.

Fortunately, the Lance family convoys didn't travel every day, and each trip was only a few hours long. Each truck had at least four people, and four small cars followed them.

Initially, only the people in the trucks were meant to be the escorts, but given the current tense situation, Lance instructed them to arrange more people.

So, they added about twenty extra men.

If this many people couldn't handle the problem, then adding thirty or fifty more likely wouldn't solve the issue either.

Inside the swaying truck, the driver was chatting with the man next to him, sharing seemingly interesting, yet ultimately boring, topics.

This made the journey less tedious.

The driver of the lead truck was an old hand, in his fifties, who had been running transport since he was fourteen with his father.

They had driven old trucks and horse-drawn carriages before, and now they drove these internal combustion engine trucks. In his words, the development of the times was incredibly fast!

He was focused on his job. As the lead driver, he had to know the route perfectly. The following cars relied on him, and if he made a mistake, it would be a huge problem.

He listened to the young men next to him brag and chat about interesting things, driving with a faint smile on his face.

But suddenly, a car appearing under a streetlight startled him. He slammed on the brakes.

With a loud screech, the convoy stopped.