The engineer named Will Kendrick, who came to Providence for a vacation, was very talkative. After treating him to a couple of glasses of whiskey, Tommy Hawk learned from their casual conversation a piece of news that made him itch to take action.
At this moment, near the international waters close to the United States maritime boundary, there was a large Philip Morris tobacco processing ship running at full speed, operating day and night to produce the red and white hard packs of Marlboro cigarettes.
A processing ship is an independent medium-sized tobacco factory, operating on the high seas with an assembly line production. Its products are sold as soon as they are produced, wholesaled to cargo ships that come to pick up the goods. Moreover, since the operations are based in international waters, Philip Morris Company can avoid a series of procedures such as docking for customs clearance and paying management fees. Most importantly, all of this is legal activity occurring in international waters.
Tommy Hawk recalled a sidetrack story from a business history lesson taught by a professor at business school in his previous life about the development history of the tobacco companies in the United States. The professor did mention that some American tobacco companies, in order to capture the market, came up with the strategy of producing cigarettes in international waters and then smuggling them into a country to seize the market. However, those occurrences were near the international waters of Canada, China, and Japan. Those countries repeatedly protested to the United States Government, which brushed them off with the excuse that the American tobacco companies had no intention of selling their goods to other countries deliberately and were merely producing in international waters.
Whether it was legal for domestic companies to use the same means to snatch tax money from the pockets of the United States Government was unclear to Tommy, but it's likely that officials from both political parties in the United States would not dare to provoke the largest tobacco company. After all, the slightest dissatisfaction from the company could significantly reduce their political contributions. Moreover, these large tobacco companies were backed by innumerable legal advisors and lobbying firms, ready to protect and solve any issues for the tobacco company like bodyguards.
The reason that the tobacco processing ship, which should have been anchored in the international waters near Canada's Placentia, sailed to the northeastern maritime area of the United States was due to the recent increase in tobacco taxes in areas like New York and Massachusetts. Smokers had to pay more in taxes through regular channels for their cigarettes, which led to a rapid decline in sales.
For example, in New York, the price of a pack of Marlboros was less than three dollars before the raise. But after the increase in tobacco taxes, the price per pack had soared to nearly four dollars. For smokers, if they didn't want to buy regular channel cigarettes at high prices, they would either need to reduce their smoking or switch to a cheaper brand. Neither scenario was what the owner of the Marlboro brand, Philip Morris Tobacco Company, wanted to see.
And as the price of cigarettes through regular channels surged, it naturally gave rise to a group of illegal cigarette merchants who were eager to profit from the situation and took risky ventures. They would find ways to stock up on large quantities from other states in the northwest where tobacco taxes were lower, stealthily transporting them to New York or Massachusetts for sale, or even produce counterfeit goods to make money.
By bringing the tobacco company's processing ship to nearby international waters, it facilitated these smugglers by not requiring them to look for sources of goods elsewhere, but instead allowed them to pick up goods directly from the source factory. This step eliminated the middlemen making a profit through price differences and most importantly ensured the authenticity and quality of the real product, guaranteeing that there would be no issue with the taste.
In other words, the cigarette smugglers just needed to take a boat to the factory on the sea, where they could easily complete the transaction by paying money and receiving goods in hand.
This is America, after all – where there's money to be made, the capitalists always find thoughtful ways to cooperate.
Of course, this business doesn't come without risks. Quietly going to international waters to purchase cigarettes might not attract too much attention, but whether the smugglers will get caught once they return to land and prepare to distribute the goods, that depends on their luck. After all, taking advantage of the United States Tax Service is exceedingly difficult. They might tolerate the tobacco processing ships far from the United States mainland, but they are sure to act swiftly and decisively against smugglers bleeding money from their taxes.
"Fifty cartons for just two hundred dollars?" Tommy Hawk was astonished as he inquired to Will after finding out the factory price of the cigarettes: "You mean, the price for a carton of cigarettes is four dollars? Four dollars, for a carton? Ten packs?"
You should know, the retail price for a pack of Marlboros in New York was nearly four dollars. Yet at this moment, Will was saying that the factory price for a carton of Marlboros only required two hundred dollars, which worked out to just forty cents per pack.
Will, slightly tipsy, nodded: "Of course, kid. What else do you think those smugglers risk being hunted by the Tax Service to do this business for? The tobacco business has been incredibly lucrative from the very beginning."
"Sir, what's the minimum number of cartons for a purchase?" Tommy Hawk felt a bit feverish, perhaps because of the alcohol, but more likely because the word "profit" was relentlessly burning and tingling in him.
"Kid, you know what, in my opinion, you really shouldn't be here discussing such sleep-inducing matters with an old-timer like me. You should find a fiery dancer to make your trip worthwhile," said Will Kendrick with a hint of weariness: "Besides, the factory isn't a convenience store. If you just want to buy a few boxes of cheap cigarettes, better ask those street hawkers. You need to buy at least a hundred cartons in one go for the factory to entertain you."
He had not expected this young man sitting here to just discuss such boring tobacco issues with him. Every time he wanted to brag about his youthful flirting experiences, this uninteresting lad named Tommy would steer the conversation back again, withering Will's desire to continue chatting with Tommy.
And Will Kendrick's final words were like a cold shower on Tommy Hawk's enthusiasm, if a ten-carton minimum purchase was required, he might consider borrowing some money from Ruby after figuring out the market supply and demand, as well as the sales methods. But for a purchase minimum of a hundred cartons, which meant excluding other expenses, he would need to come up with a capital of twenty thousand dollars.
Ruby could never lend such a large sum of money to a seventeen-year-old kid, and if she really did lend it to him, she would most likely give her daddy a heads-up.
Feeling that Will Kendrick beside him was no longer in the mood to chat, and also not being able to produce the $20,000 principal to do this kind of business, Tommy Hawk let out a sigh and shrugged, changing the topic, "You're right, Mr. Kendrick, we shouldn't waste this trip, we should enjoy the moment while we can. Come on, let's check out the private curtain booths, my treat. But just to be clear, I'm only paying for one song. Give me some recommendations, which dancer moves with more grace? You've been vacationing here for three days, you should know better than me. Give me some advice."
"Hahaha~" Will burst into happy laughter upon hearing Tommy's words. He raised his whisky glass to Tommy and said, "Kid, that's more like it. Let me show you how to have fun in a place like this. First rule, never treat anyone. When spending money on women, you let them come to you on their own. Second, don't believe anyone else's recommendations, and definitely don't fixate on those warmed-up floozies in the main hall."
"So how should I choose? Isn't it like in the movies, where I go to the dance floor and casually throw a few bills, asking someone to join me in the curtain booth for a close-up dance?" Tommy laughed as well.
"NO, of course not like that. Let me teach you the Miami way. Come on, kid, let me show you." Talking about women, Will's face was full of enthusiasm. With an arm around Tommy's shoulder, they headed towards the single booth area.
Standing outside the single booth area was a tall bouncer. Will pulled out two one-dollar bills from his shirt pocket, walked up to him, and stuffed the money into the bouncer's suit pocket, "Buddy, we're going to the curtain booths for a private show. Go backstage and call two spicy dancers who are waiting in the wings for us, this is your tip."
Each single curtain booth is equipped with one or two bouncers, partly to intimidate the customers from getting too handsy with the dancers in the booths, and partly to silently keep track of how many dances have occurred. If a customer enjoys three dances but is only willing to pay for two, the bouncer would step up to teach the customer the correct way to count.
"Alright, sirs, please choose a booth each," the bouncer said. He seemed quite accustomed to Will's proposition, gesturing for them to proceed, then took out his walkie-talkie and called in, "Two customers for the curtain booths, they don't like the big mamas from the dance floor, send over two spicy drinks."
"You know, the best feeling is the time when you're waiting for the dancer to show up for your dance. You can let your imagination soar, guessing what the woman coming over really looks like," Will explained as they reached a curtain booth. He released Tommy's shoulder, "Tommy, enjoy your first strip club adventure. Go on in. And remember, rule three, never believe a word the dancer says. Whatever she tells you, in the end, it's all about emptying your wallet."
Pushed by Will, Tommy walked into the cramped, narrow single booth. The so-called booths, much like the club's small rooms in the game "GTA5," were made of cheap composite boards without doors, just a half-length or even semi-transparent curtain. The interior couldn't even fit a sofa, just two chairs facing each other.
Now, Tommy could only sit in the chair against the wall, like a prisoner waiting for interrogation, awaiting the arrival of the dancer.
However, Will was right. Before the dancer truly appeared, a man couldn't help but guess what the arriving woman would look like, what her fiery figure would be like.
Two minutes later, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor grew closer, and a woman with golden tassels on her bikini and long golden hair pushed aside the curtain and walked in. Seeing Tommy with his arms crossed and looking up at her, she froze in shock:
"OhMyGod..."
When Tommy Hawk looked up and saw that the woman who had walked in was actually Aunt Melanie wearing a golden wig, he was stunned at first, then quickly put a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, loudly calling out to the outside, "Buddy, get me a champagne room."
"Sure thing, sir. Right this way," responded the bouncer from outside. Noticing the obviously still shocked Melanie standing still, he came over and urged, "Bicuici, go prepare the champagne for the guest."
With a somewhat dazed turn, Melanie headed toward the champagne room area. The bouncer's smile widened as he looked at Tommy, thinking how impulsive young men can be, freely handing over their cash at the sight of a pretty woman. "Sorry, sir, she's new and still a little unfamiliar with the routine. Please follow me."
Inside another booth, Will, whose head was being encircled by the arms of a dancer gyrating her body, heard Tommy Hawk's voice. He frowned, saying to himself, "Kid! Rule three! Good heavens... When I first came to a place like this at sixteen, only after dancing to three songs was I tempted to visit the champagne room. I bet this kid will never become a master of picking up women…"