Chapter 76: A Conspiracy and Revenue Distribution Principles

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“Mr. Jobav, it’s Lake. I’ve arrived at the warehouse, but…”

Lake’s voice crackled through the phone, distorted by the sound of heavy rain, like a radio plagued with static.

Mr. Jobav, with his advancing age and declining hearing, struggled to make out the words. “Speak up!”

“Mr. Jobav, there are only one or two thousand bottles in the warehouse—not the tens of thousands you mentioned.”

For a moment, Mr. Jobav froze, his hand going slack. The receiver slipped from his grasp, hitting the desk with a loud “dong!”

The noise startled those outside his room. “Sir, should I come in?”

The loud noise also jolted Mr. Jobav back to his senses.

“No, no need,” he called out, quickly retrieving the phone. He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. On the other end, Lake waited patiently, the line still open.

The faint warmth of the cigarette couldn’t thaw the chill gripping his heart. After a moment, he flicked ash onto the carpet without noticing.
“Are you sure you didn’t go to the wrong place?”

“No, Mr. Jobav. The warehouse doors were wide open when we arrived. The floor is wet, and there are tire marks everywhere. It looks like the liquor was transported out earlier. We didn’t see any vehicles leaving, so it must have been done a while ago.”

Regaining his composure, Jobav barked, “Seal off the warehouse immediately. No one leaves, including you. Ensure nothing goes wrong. Tell everyone they’ll get triple their pay for staying put, and no one is to contact the outside world.”

Lake’s voice came through, resolute, “Understood, Mr. Jobav. I’ll make sure of it.”

Hanging up, Jobav pressed the call bell on his desk. Moments later, his assistant knocked.

“Sir?”

“Come in!”

The assistant entered to find Mr. Jobav slumped on the bed, gesturing for the door to be closed.

“The warehouse has been emptied,” he said grimly.

The assistant paled, his expression shifting to alarm. “Arthur’s men took the liquor?”

Jobav’s face darkened with resentment but lacked true intensity. “It’s uncertain. Lake said there are still some bottles left, and the floor is wet. If this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, it might not have been premeditated—or maybe it was. Who knows what schemes he might concoct on the spot?”

The assistant’s mind raced. “Should we call the police?”

“Call the police?”

“No, absolutely not!”

“Not only can we not call the police, but I also need you to place an order for gold-label whiskey crates immediately. If this was premeditated, Arthur will soon bring up early repayment.”

“That liquor is worth $360,000. Even if he pays me some interest as per the contract, I’ll still lose $100,000!”

“If he’s not behind this, we can’t let word get out.”

“If he *is* behind this, it won’t matter what we do—he’ll be ready to respond.”

Jobav’s logic was clear. If Arthur stole the liquor, he’d likely contact Jobav soon to discuss early repayment, as stipulated in their loan agreement.

Under such terms, Arthur would owe three months’ interest as compensation for early repayment. However, Jobav would then need to return the $360,000 worth of collateralized liquor.

If the stolen liquor was missing, Arthur could exploit the situation, especially after Prohibition was enacted. Transporting, producing, and selling alcohol would become illegal, making it nearly impossible to replace the collateral.

Arthur could then demand a cash settlement, likely doubling or tripling the original amount to $700,000 or more, leveraging legal channels to bankrupt Jobav.

Faced with these possibilities, Jobav shivered. His only course of action was to suppress the incident and align himself with the Mayor for protection.

“Forget about lawsuits,” he muttered bitterly. “With Senator Williams’s influence, I wouldn’t stand a chance in local courts. Even the state courts would likely be against me. That little scoundrel is venomous!”

The assistant, grasping the gravity of the situation, left immediately to handle the whiskey crate order.

—

Meanwhile, at Lance’s rented warehouse, the Howard brothers received $600 as payment.

“Sorry, I can’t give you any liquor—it’s too sensitive right now. I hope you don’t think I’m being stingy.”

The Howard brothers waved him off. “Alberto asked us to help, and you’ve already given us extra. We’re more than grateful.”

“I might need you again in a couple of days,” Lance added.

“Just call us!” they replied before driving off.

Lance instructed Hiram and the others to wipe down the bottles. Some of the outer packaging was damp but hadn’t yet absorbed the water. While this would slightly reduce the liquor’s value, the impact wasn’t significant.

Elvin, unable to contain his excitement, paced the warehouse. “Thirty grand’s worth of liquor!”

“Shouldn’t we move it somewhere else?” he asked, his voice jittery. The others wore wide grins, unable to hide their glee.

Lance, seated on a chair, shook his head. “No need. There’s no safer place than here.”

“This port is full of warehouses storing liquor. These bottles don’t bear any distinctive marks. No one can prove they’re the stolen batch.”

“Besides, no one will allow an unchecked investigation here. The port stores more than just liquor—it’s full of contraband.”

In this northern hemisphere’s largest port, who would dare open random warehouses without solid proof? Any discovery of illicit goods tied to powerful figures would bring catastrophic repercussions.

“And Jobav?” Lance scoffed. “He’s just an Imperial immigrant with money but no real clout. Nothing will happen here.”

—

Later, Lance handed Morris some cash. “Grab us something to eat from the minced beef shop near the port. I hear it’s good.”

Morris ran out in a raincoat and returned twenty minutes later with paper bags full of cooked minced beef. The Federation didn’t traditionally use “braising” techniques, but their stews, laden with sauce and spices, were close.

The aroma wafted through the warehouse as the bags were opened, making everyone’s stomachs growl.

Lance called them over. “Eat first, then back to work.”

Gathered around a table piled with meat, everyone ate with their hands. Though messy, the communal meal boosted morale.

—

Midway through the meal, Lance spoke up. “Hiram, introduce your friends. Thanks to their help, we pulled off this operation successfully.”

Hiram obliged, detailing his companions’ backgrounds. Lance even asked about their lives back in the Empire, emphasizing the importance of understanding one another.

Elvin, watching Lance closely, felt there was more to it.

Once introductions were done, Lance clapped his hands. “Now that we’ve worked together on this, we’re brothers. But let me be clear: if anyone leaks this and gets caught, you’ll face the electric chair.”

“If you think your family is safe, think again—they’ll suffer too.”

“But stick with me, and you’ll thrive. If anyone wants to keep living an ordinary life, I’ll arrange respectable jobs for them.”

“Here’s the breakdown of the profits. I take 50%. Thirty percent goes to the company account, which will be fully transparent. You’ll see every expenditure and its purpose.”

“The remaining 20% will be split among everyone involved. We have six people on my side and eight on yours. With an estimated value of $300,000, 20% is $60,000. Split among 14 people, that’s over $4,000 each.”

The group’s breathing grew heavy, torn between greed, excitement, and fear. The amount was astronomical.

Elvin suddenly spoke up. “Lance, I have a suggestion…”