Chapter 511

In his office, Lance was handling the call from Ponda.

He was indeed a bit surprised by the information Ponda provided, but it wasn’t unreasonable.

What he was curious about now was Ponda’s attitude. He had been trying to win Ponda over, but Ponda hadn’t been very receptive. He always remained just outside of Lance’s control; he didn’t want to be controlled by Lance.

The most important thing in making friends is to be able to confide in each other.

Lance turned to look at the blue sky outside the window. He lit a cigarette. “Are you just trying to inform me of this news, or do you want me to help you?”

Ponda didn’t answer him immediately. He was no fool. Those who could be selected and stand out from the elites of various law enforcement agencies had an IQ that was at least within the normal range.

He understood what Lance meant. If he said he just wanted to tell Lance the news, then it was very likely that they would find the place empty that night, and Webber would furiously attribute the terrible result to a leak.

Ponda had handled many cases related to smuggled and illicitly brewed liquor, in those underground distilleries and even in private homes.

The moment you walked in, you could smell that very particular aroma of fermented crops.

It was very fragrant, very rich.

Some people would keep their doors and windows tightly shut to avoid being discovered, but the more they did so, the more the smell of fermentation would slowly spread to the surroundings.

Others would simply open their doors and windows, keeping the brewing area well-ventilated. Although this was effective, it meant that more people could smell it.

Even if Lance’s men evacuated and removed all possible evidence and traces, they would still know that someone had been brewing liquor there, at least within the last week.

So, the first answer was not a good choice.

The basis for the reconciliation between Webber and him (Ponda) was that Webber could secure this big case, which would allow his uncle to pull some strings in the State Prohibition Committee and give Webber a chance to become director.

But if he couldn’t get this big case, he wouldn’t be qualified to compete with Director Dale, and the reconciliation between him and Ponda would be void.

So, it seemed there was only one correct answer, after ruling out the wrong one.

This was what Lance wanted, he knew.

Once he made such a request, it was tantamount to leaving a handle in Lance’s hands. This handle didn’t need any paper documents to prove it, nor did it need any audio recordings or photos. All it needed was for him to say it.

A dozen or so seconds passed quickly. Many things flashed through Ponda’s mind: his experiences during this time, Lisa’s encounter, and Webber’s harassment and reconciliation.

He had never had such a strong desire to gain a higher position, more power.

“Help me.”

“Help you with what?” Lance continued to ask.

Ponda’s heavy voice came through the receiver. “Help me get rid of Webber.”

Before he said it, the phrase seemed to have a special magic that made it difficult for Ponda to say.

In fact, he didn’t know that what was stopping him was his bottom line. His bottom line was trying to prevent him from doing this, but it was clear that his bottom line was not very firm, at least not as firm as his desire.

The bottom line was easily pierced. After breaking through the bottom line, everything seemed to become easier.

The bottom line is like that membrane. Before it’s broken, it’s incredibly difficult. After it’s broken, everything becomes moist.

“After Webber dies, I’ll be the most qualified agent to be promoted. At that time, I’ll catch some suspects, send them to prison, and no one will be able to find fault with my promotion. And this matter can end there.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for the past few days. Lance, you were right. We are friends.”

“Friends should help each other!”

After hearing this, Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you’ve figured it out, Ponda. Not only is there no hatred or hostility between us, but we should be the most complementary pair.”

“Tonight, don’t rush too far to the front. Avoid friendly fire.”

After hanging up the phone, Ponda became completely calm and clear-headed. He also turned to look at the blue sky outside the window. Countless images flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t calm down for a long time.

An afternoon was enough time for Lance to make all sorts of preparations.

The abandoned farm was actually already on the verge of being abandoned. Lance’s own distillery had already been moved to a more remote valley, which was more secluded than the farm.

Moreover, the wind in the valley was strong, which helped to disperse the smell of fermentation and distillation, and it was easier to hide.

The farm was still in temporary use because many tools were inconvenient to dismantle and move. If it were truly abandoned, it wouldn’t affect future production and sales.

Especially since the Lawrence Farm had also started to supply liquor for Lance’s system. He now had an ample supply and didn’t have to worry about being short just because he lost one farm distillery.

Two large teams from the entire Bureau of Hazardous Materials were preparing for the evening raid, but they didn’t know who the target of this mission was or where it was located.

Webber had already gone there secretly once. He had seen the marks of trucks on the ground, and there was a faint scent of fermentation and distillation in the air.

This was indeed a distillery.

Webber was in a state of excitement all afternoon. He had already spoken with his uncle on the phone, confirming the news and the existence of the distillery. They had talked about the issue of Director Dale.

His uncle told him that Dale’s influence in Congress and New Golden City had been weakened to the extreme.

He had indeed done a few beautiful things, but he had also done a lot of stupid things, and the mayor’s affair had also implicated him.

For the gentlemen in Congress, they were never short of handy tools.

Every year, there were over a hundred thousand graduates from Ivy League universities. These young people, outstanding in terms of background, connections, and personal ability, were waiting for their call. The higher up you went, the less you lacked for talent.

Dale was not irreplaceable. His relationship with the mayor was too close. Even if their connection was not as tight as before, his value in the eyes of the congressmen was basically zero.

During his time in Golden Port, Senator Cleveland didn’t even meet with the mayor, let alone make a phone call. And his status in Congress was constantly rising.

Even if some people had a slight connection with Director Dale, they wouldn’t offend Senator Cleveland for a tool when their toolbox was full.

Politics, especially when it comes to taking sides, has no room for reason or logic.

I don’t like this person, but you spoke to him, so I don’t like you either!

No need for reasoning. I don’t care why you spoke to him, but you did, and that’s all that matters.

So now Director Dale was in a bit of an awkward position. Someone was already eyeing the seat under him.

If Webber could land a big case, one that could alarm the Congressional Prohibition Committee, then Webber’s uncle could help him pull some strings and see if he could climb another step.

Director Dale had made enough mistakes before. When no one was looking for trouble with him, those mistakes were harmless.

But when someone wanted to find trouble with him, those mistakes became fatal wounds.

This news was very encouraging for Webber, and he became even more excited for the evening’s operation.

At 6 o’clock, which was supposed to be quitting time, at Webber’s request, the two large teams all stayed behind.

He ordered some food for everyone. A large number of fast-food boxes were delivered to the Bureau of Hazardous Materials. This money would definitely be paid out of the operation funds, not his personal funds.

The food was of a good standard, customized at a price of one dollar per person. It included bread, vegetable salad, half a terribly sour fruit, and some beef bits and fries.

This was probably the first time everyone had dinner together with their colleagues in the office. Ponda sat at his desk, eating the food somewhat absentmindedly.

Everyone else found it delicious—the owner of the fast-food restaurant actually knew better than the average housewife how to make people praise food enthusiastically.

It wasn’t necessarily healthy, but it was definitely tasty.

“Do you know something?” his deskmate asked. “Webber called you into his office. Do you know something?”

“Can you satisfy my curiosity before we leave?”

Ponda glanced at her. “No comment!”

“Don’t make me beg you!” his deskmate asked again in a slightly playful tone.

If it were anything else, Ponda would have just said it. But this matter, he couldn’t increase his suspicion.

If he told these colleagues, some of them might sell him out, or tell others without thinking it was a betrayal, that he had revealed information about the mission. So he wouldn’t say anything.

Once something happened to Webber, the Prohibition Committee and his uncle would definitely make trouble for the local Bureau of Hazardous Materials. He couldn’t be the sacrificial lamb.

He shook his head again. “No comment. You’ll all know soon enough.”

Seeing that he was really unwilling to say, his colleague didn’t press further. At 6:30, everyone began to prepare for the mission.

As the leaders of the various action teams entered the conference room, the atmosphere in the hall became slightly more serious.

About ten minutes later, the team leaders came out of the office. They ordered all agents to check their weapons and spare ammunition, and then prepare for action.

No one was allowed to make phone calls, no one was allowed to leave people’s sight. Even going to the bathroom required two people to go together.

At the same time, they also learned their destination for this time: the abandoned farm in the suburbs.

The nights in mid-to-late March came as early as in autumn and winter. Before 7 o’clock, the sky was already completely dark. A convoy of police cars left the Bureau of Hazardous Materials without their sirens on.

For a moment, all the bars in the city became anxious. Who knew if they had found the location of some bar and were planning a surprise attack.

They often did this sort of thing, making it impossible to guard against.

It wasn’t until about ten minutes later that people relaxed a little. They heard that those cars had left the city.

They didn’t know what was outside the city, but as long as it wasn’t coming for them, they were satisfied.

At 7:25, the convoy arrived at the outskirts of the abandoned farm. They had brought two police dogs specially trained to search for alcohol.

The two police dogs had already become restless. Because they were muzzled, they couldn’t make any sound now.

But from their constantly shifting bodies and anxious expressions, it was clear that there was something nearby that Webber was looking for.

In the darkness of the distance, under the moonlight, some of the farm’s buildings could be vaguely seen. Among them, two warehouses had faint lights on.

Webber had considered coming during the day, but with so many people, they would be too conspicuous. They might be discovered by the distillery’s people before they even got close.

These people would definitely arrange some mobile sentries outside to guard against investigation and discovery by the Bureau of Hazardous Materials.

Although there were many inconveniences at night, the darkness also provided them with protection.

The ground at the farm was not easy to walk on, and the muddy road, pressed by trucks, made it even more difficult for the police to pass. So Webber ordered everyone to proceed on foot.

The distance of two to three hundred meters was not far, but the key was that with every step, you were either deep or shallow. After just a few steps, you could feel your shoes becoming noticeably heavier.

But since Webber himself was also walking, everyone had nothing to say.

This case was obviously very big. The director and the senior agent took it very seriously. Even if they had some complaints, they wouldn’t voice them.

If the case was solved, the credit would be shared, and everyone would also get a bonus.

The closer they got to the abandoned farm’s warehouses, the stronger the scent of fermentation and distillation in the air became. Everything was fine. The only problem was, why were there no guards here?

It was one thing to have no sentry posts, but why was there not even anyone on duty? Was it because the weather was still cold?

No matter how cold it was in March, it was still above zero. Webber stood in the open field, the wind whistling around him. A sudden chill inexplicably washed over him.

The waist-high and even head-high weeds around him swayed constantly in the wind, brushing against him, creating a very eerie feeling.

Because there were so many of them, he wouldn’t have this feeling if he wasn’t paying attention. But now that he had noticed, he always felt as if something was lurking in the bottom of his heart, watching him.

He rubbed his arms and continued forward.

The two large teams had already surrounded the two warehouses. Ponda stood to the side with a puzzled look on his face. He didn’t know how Lance was going to deal with Webber, but he decided to follow Lance’s advice and not get too close to the front.

As the action team finished their arrangements, several men violently broke open the warehouse doors, and then their ears were filled with warnings like “Bureau of Hazardous Materials” and “Hands up.”

There was no one in the warehouse, which was unexpected. But there was a lot of liquor here.

Webber walked up to a barrel. He found a blunt object nearby and smashed it against the barrel. After a few hard hits, a crack was opened.

A strong smell of liquor flowed out. He reached in, took some, and put it in his mouth. His face immediately turned slightly red.

“Whiskey!”

“Take a count, how much liquor is here!”

Soon they had a count. One hundred and twenty barrels. These were all small butts, with a specification of 250 liters, but the actual amount would be slightly less, as they wouldn’t be filled to the brim.

Filling them to the brim could easily cause the barrels themselves to rupture. Most barrels would be left with about three to five liters of space to ensure they wouldn’t crack due to collision or vibration during transport.

“How much is this worth?” Webber became excited as he listened to their reports. “What about the warehouse on the other side?”

The other warehouse had about seventy or eighty barrels of whiskey. In total, there were two hundred barrels.

“Over 500,000 worth of liquor!” Webber’s heart began to race. A 500,000 case might not be enough to alarm Congress, but if they could catch some people and get them to confess to more smuggled liquor and funds, and accumulate some historical sales.

Then this illegal private brewing case, with a potential value of at least a million, would definitely be able to alarm the Congressional Prohibition Committee.

If he tried to get some judicial support and get a few of the main culprits sentenced to death, as a “negative example” to warn society, then alarming Congress would be inevitable.

Webber could already see what he wanted, beckoning to him from not far away. He was completely excited.

“Search the area. It’s impossible for so much liquor to be unguarded. See if they’re in the surrounding rooms…”

Soon, the surrounding warehouses and houses were searched. Although they found traces of someone living there, they didn’t find a single living person.

Webber guessed that they might have alerted these people when they were approaching, causing them to flee in advance. Not catching anyone made Webber’s mood not as excited as before.

“We found something in one of the houses…”

Soon, some account books and a locked box were brought to Webber. He first flipped through the account book.

The book recorded some shipping records: when, how much, and to whom. Some key information used code names, but it was still roughly clear that this was a distillery with a very large throughput.

Then his gaze fell on the locked iron box. It was about a foot square, and it felt heavy in his hands. It should be filled with a lot of things.

The lock on it was just an ordinary lock, which was easily pried open. Then it was placed in front of Webber.

As the initiator and commander of the entire operation, this kind of thing would definitely be handed to him to open first.

“I hope the contents can give me a surprise!” he said to the people around him, then placed his hands on both sides of the iron box’s lid and began to pull.

As it was slowly being opened, Webber thought of many things.

For example, there might be some codebooks inside, some contact information, something more important that would make it easier for them to catch the owner of this distillery.

The people around all gathered closer, their eyes fixed on the iron box that was being opened.

When the lid was lifted a little, Webber clearly felt some resistance. He frowned slightly, and with a strong upward pull, the resistance disappeared in an instant.

Then the lid shot up, revealing the true face of the contents.

Webber’s eyes widened as he looked at the contents. Countless emotions surged in his chest, finally condensing into a single sentence—

“Holy shit!”

Ponda, who was smoking outside the building, turned his head curiously. Then, a blast wave sent him flying.

(End of Chapter)