Allen Zhang looked at his rotund and floppy-eared appearance, couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, but ultimately, he composed himself, putting on a very serious expression.
Recco locked up the police station’s front door, drove an old Ford police car, and took Allen Zhang to another street in the town, to the warehouse yard.
Looking at the dilapidated scene inside, any old Black could’ve easily nicked everything there, really, the General Sect Leader saw a warehouse this rundown only last time. Too bad there’s no small-town blonde this time around!
Stopping the car, Recco took out the keys to unlock the warehouse door, leading Allen Zhang inside, "Take a look, this batch of alcohol imported from Russia is all here. You might want to taste and see how it is."
He opened a bottle right there and poured a glass for the General Sect Leader.
A glass of Vodka down the hatch, it burned all the way down, and Allen Zhang couldn’t make out any special flavor.
Looking at the warehouse full of alcohol, even a wholesale price of 5,000 US Dollars was quite a bargain. He took out his phone, snapped a photo, and sent it to the team’s professional wine taster for appraisal.
Melvin: This looks like flavored Vodka from Russia? It’s already discontinued, there’s none for sale around here. Boss, where did you get this?
Allen Zhang: Are these goods genuine? The taste is a bit sour and slightly bitter as hell, burns the throat, and the aftertaste is kinda like the taste of rust.
Melvin: Absolutely genuine. This kind of alcohol is better suited to be mixed into cocktails as an ingredient, not the main spirit. I’ve seen someone order it at the Carnation Club before; I think the name was Rusty Nail, hits your throat sharply as if it’s going to slice it open, tastes exactly like rust, color as red as blood. A glass for 99 US Dollars.
Allen Zhang: What kind of a good soul drinks nails for fun? 99 bucks a glass, why don’t they just go and rob people!?
Good idea, something to learn from.
In the business of bars, can that be called plagiarism?
Others sell for 99, I’ll just sell it to you for 88!
Allen Zhang put away his phone, and Recco also inquired, "How is it? The taste is good, right? I asked the folks from Majiao Manor, the price of this kind of alcohol may not be much, but as a cocktail, it has to be at least 30 US Dollars a glass!"
dollars? Too small, too small-minded!
In Los Angeles bars, it has to be sold for at least 88 US Dollars a glass! Otherwise, it’s all about running a loss and making noise.
"I’ll take all these bottles! 5,000 US Dollars, flat rate. Do you want to settle in cash, or should we do a bank transfer?" Allen Zhang generously agreed.
Recco also beamed, rubbing his hands like a fly, "If it can be settled in cash, that’s certainly better."
Allen Zhang immediately pulled out 5,000 US Dollars and handed it over, then drove his secure transport vehicle over, helped load up the alcohol.
It took some time to deal with a garage full of Vodka, exhausting the officer to the point of questioning his life choices.
Diligent Officer Recco, who normally gets winded just chasing an old Black for a couple of steps and doesn’t want to move, today he was hauling over a dozen cases of alcohol with the General Sect Leader, sweating profusely, not making a sound.
Allen Zhang shut the door of the transport vehicle, sat down and properly buckled up, nodding in satisfaction, "If there’s more of this alcohol next time, remember to contact me, officer! I’ll definitely take the whole lot."
"There’ll be an opportunity." With a profit of five thousand dollars, Recco was in a good mood too.
"Goodbye." With a wave, Allen Zhang floored the gas pedal and drove away from the street.
As for this batch of seized alcohol, whether the people from Majiao Manor would come to claim it or not, it had nothing to do with him. Officer Recco would handle it!
Driving back to the city, he headed straight for the Sunkist Bar, parked the car by the roadside, got out, and called people to come out to take the delivery.