August 29, 1 AM, On the road from Long Branch County to Holmdale, a truck stopped on the side with all its lights turned off. Carpenter and Saul climbed out of the car, both reluctant to engage in conversation. They leaned against the vehicle, smoking in silence.
Before Saul finished his cigarette, another truck approached from the opposite direction. Bill jumped out and walked over to them. "Is everything ready?" he asked.
"It's all set, in the car," Carpenter replied, flicking his cigarette butt away with a smile.
Bill nodded indifferently, not bothering to check the contents. He waved behind him. "Both of you, move your things over there."
Carpenter was momentarily startled when two black men jumped out of the truck, seemingly from nowhere.
As the men groaned while transferring unmarked boxes to their vehicle, Bill patted Carpenter on the shoulders. "You better pray there's nothing wrong with those items."
He handed $400 to the two men, then climbed back into his truck and drove off.
The two men had been randomly picked up on the way, and once their work was done, they quickly left.
They drove along the highway toward Baseek's factory, a short distance of only 80 kilometers.
Meanwhile, Jonas had been waiting by the roadside for some time. As Bill's truck passed, he abruptly turned his car across the road, switched on all the lights, opened the door, and stepped out to smoke.
"This is what Sean explained—regardless of whether anyone is following, we need to ensure physical isolation. Caution is key."
In the dead of night, with no other cars around, Jonas smoked several cigarettes. Only when he confirmed it was safe did he get back in his car and continue on his way.
More than an hour later, Sean and the others arrived at Baseek's dilapidated beverage factory.
After unloading the items, Sean opened a package and meticulously compared the glass bottles and their outer packaging with the originals. There was no visible difference, which satisfied him greatly.
He had already adjusted the machine, and the blended wine was fully prepared; all that remained was the filling process.
Filling the bottles would be straightforward—manual labor for thousands of bottles was manageable with the team. The real challenges lay in capping and packaging.
Sean was determined to sell counterfeit wine across the United States, and for that, a factory was essential.
Saul and the others were unaware of Sean's grand ambitions. Even if Saul did know, he would likely scoff at the idea of large-scale counterfeiting. Selling on a smaller scale was one thing, but taking on the big wineries? Those businesses weren't easy targets.
And let's not forget the IRS—a significant threat.
"Guys, load up the bottles and get our printing presses running!" Sean shouted, holding the bottles aloft.
"Yeah! Let's go!" Jonas and the others cheered, excited by the prospect of making money.
Standing in front of the assembly line, they watched as bottles labeled 'brandy,' 'gin,' and 'whiskey' were filled. The machine's noise was music to their ears.
However, the work wasn't over; they still needed to label and box the bottles.
The labels were produced by a 24-hour copy shop. Neji's carton factory couldn't handle the job, so Jonas coordinated their production.
The quality of the labels was impeccable—so much so that they could easily pass for real, akin to the printers used for counterfeiting money.
At one table, a pistol lay next to $1,000. The clerk wisely took the cash and turned off the surveillance cameras, knowing they only stored footage for 12 hours.
The group worked tirelessly from dawn until dusk, managing to package all 4,000 bottles of wine, leaving them utterly exhausted.
...
In the makeshift "laboratory," all the experimental instruments were pushed aside. Sean sat at one end of the table, while Saul and the others gathered around.
Newark, with a population of 250,000—60% of whom are Black—had a vibrant underground scene, as Sean pointed out. He spread a city map across the table, dotted with small red marks representing underground bars controlled by various gangs.
"This is our market," Sean explained. "The annual demand for smuggled high-end wine here exceeds $800,000."
"Our initial target is the entire Newark area. If we dominate the smuggled wine market here, we'll create a solid foundation."
"Why not aim for New York? It's right next door and has a much larger population—over 7 million," Saul interjected, frowning.
"Because the market is too big and too risky," Sean replied, shaking his head. "The five major mafia families dominate the smuggled liquor scene in New York, deeply entangled with local politics. We're just small fry right now; we're not ready to take them on."
"Otherwise, we could end up in the Hudson River by the next day."
Yuri nodded vigorously. Since Charlie Luciano established the 'Mafia Disciplinary Committee' in Chicago in 1933, the Mafia had reached its zenith.
"Fifty years later, the underground world of New York is still ruled by the five major families, and it seems they will continue to hold power in the foreseeable future," Sean continued.
"Have you heard of the strategy of 'encircling the city from the countryside'? It's a principle that can build a vast empire, and it can certainly help us dominate a small counterfeit market," Sean explained, raising his eyebrows.
"Our future plan is to control the entire New Jersey market, with Newark as our center. From there, we'll expand north into New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts along the Hudson River; west into Pennsylvania; and south to Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia."
Sean stood up, spreading his arms wide. "That's a market worth tens of millions waiting for us to conquer!"
"Long live!!" Yuri and the others shouted enthusiastically.
As a lawyer, Saul felt a surge of pride hearing Sean's ambitious plan.
Once the excitement died down, Sean continued, "That's the future. For now, we need to focus on our first deal. I'll assign the tasks."
"Yuri, we need more manpower. Compared to street thugs, I trust our comrades more. Find out where our former platoon members are, see what they're up to, and gauge if they're willing to join us."
"Got it," Yuri responded with a gesture.
"You two," Sean pointed to two of his men, "stay here and don't let anyone in."
"Understood."
"Saul, it's time for you to use your silver tongue. You take Bill, and I'll take Jonas. We'll split into two groups and, within two days, persuade those gangs. You can also expand your client base—those guys are all criminals; they're always in need of good lawyers."
Saul shrugged. "Well, maybe that's the way to go."