Gallardo waved his hand, and a well-dressed assistant stepped forward with a thick paper bag. The bag made a satisfying rustle as it was placed on the table. Gallardo pulled it open with deliberate care, revealing neatly stacked banknotes inside. The crisp, printed notes exuded the undeniable weight of wealth.
"Five thousand dollars," Gallardo said, his tone calm but commanding. "This is your deposit, and it includes the cost of your sample. If future shipments maintain or exceed this quality, I'm prepared to pay one dollar per gram."
Ivan's calm demeanor betrayed none of the surprise he felt. Though he didn't fully grasp the drug market, even in his previous life, he quickly understood the magnitude of what Gallardo was offering. Eight hundred kilograms of Hailin at one dollar per gram, that came to 800,000 dollars.
To put it in perspective, Ivan thought, a two-story villa with a garden would set someone back about 8,000 pesos. With the money from this deal, he could buy 100 such homes. It wasn't just life-changing; it was wealth on a scale he hadn't imagined when he first stumbled into this dangerous game.
But Ivan wasn't here just for the money. If that were the case, he wouldn't have risked venturing into the den of a B-level wizard like Gallardo. The true prize lay in the connections he was forging, the foundations of a network that could extend far beyond this deal.
Ivan nodded, his expression calm and agreeable. "Thank you, sir. I'll make sure future shipments meet your expectations." He trusted that Gallardo wasn't the type to play petty games over something as significant as this. After all, this kind of business relied on trust or at least the illusion of it.
Gallardo gave an approving nod and turned to Hared. "Hared, see to it that our guest is escorted properly."
Ivan recognized the cue; his time here had come to an end. He stood, giving a small bow of gratitude. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Gallardo," he said smoothly before turning to follow Hared out of the room.
As they stepped outside the grand mansion, Ivan paused for a moment, glancing back at the towering structure. He couldn't help but wonder: *Is Martha here? Or was she here at some point?*
Hared noticed Ivan's hesitation and glanced over his shoulder, his expression questioning. Ivan quickly masked his thoughts with a smile and caught up, steering the conversation toward safer topics, current politics, trade routes, anything that would keep suspicion at bay.
---
Back inside the mansion, Gallardo leaned back in his chair and glanced at Freni, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meeting. "What's your impression of his goods?" Gallardo asked, his tone casual but curious.
Freni frowned, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "It's fine, but..." He trailed off, his expression clouded. "It feels... familiar. Like I've seen or handled something like it before."
Gallardo raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, letting Freni's words hang in the air.
---
Hared made it clear that Ivan's business in Oakland was done, for now. He arranged for a boat to take Ivan back to St. Francis without delay, cutting short any lingering reasons for Ivan to stay.
By the time Ivan returned to the Hilty Hotel, it was five in the afternoon. As he entered the lobby, the familiar smell of the place, cheap cologne and the faint sweetness of honey; wafted toward him. On the worn couch in the corner, Charlie was happily devouring a sticky honey pancake bought from a street vendor outside.
Seeing Ivan, Charlie jumped up, wiping his hands hastily. "Boss, you're back!"
Ivan chuckled, shrugging off his coat. "Relax, Charlie. I'm not a slave driver." He draped his coat over a chair and asked, "Anyone stop by while I was out?"
Charlie shook his head. "No one, except the hotel staff cleaning the place."
"Good." Ivan nodded and made his way to his room.
Once inside, he closed the door firmly and drew the curtains, shutting out the fading light of the evening. The dim, quiet room was a welcome respite. He let himself fall onto the plush hotel bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts began to churn.
When Ivan had first taken on this commission, he'd thought it would be simple; a quick job that required only a bit of effort. He hadn't expected it to spiral into something this convoluted. What had started as pretending to be a illegal immigrant worker had snowballed into meetings with Howard, entanglements with the immigrant Mutual Aid Association, and now direct dealings with the powerful Mexican cartel family.
The stakes were growing, far exceeding the 1,000 pesos he had been promised initially. But Ivan wasn't one to back out, especially not when the situation still held opportunities.
He had now pinpointed the Kangaroo Bandit's location, something Sheriff Snowden had initially tasked him with. Snowden's instructions had been clear: locate her and let the police handle the rest. Ivan could walk away now, deliver the remaining drugs to the Mexican Cartel, and wash his hands of this entire affair.
Yet, the deeper he sank into this web, the more he realized how much was still in play. His identity as a wizard had remained hidden so far, thankfully, wizards with similar rankings couldn't easily sense one another. His cover was intact, and no one suspected him of being an undercover operative.
Ivan turned onto his side, his mind running through the possibilities. Beyond the money, beyond the immediate risks, there was something even more valuable on the table: connections. Through this tangled mess, he had managed to establish working relationships with two powerful factions—the Mexican Cartel and the Chinese Mutual Aid Association.
With these alliances, he could do far more than walk away with a fat purse. He could gain influence, leverage, and, perhaps, the power to shape the game itself.
For now, though, he would wait. The next steps would require precision, and Ivan wasn't one to make a move without careful planning. The dim light in the room seemed to mirror his mood, a mix of anticipation and quiet determination. The game wasn't over yet and Ivan intended to win.
This was one of Ivan's deeper objectives when he sought to connect with Howard. It wasn't just a cover for his investigation; t was a doorway to something bigger.
What he told Gallardo wasn't a complete fabrication. Ivan genuinely needed the connections and opportunities the Chinese Mutual Aid Association could provide, arguably even more than the police's 1,000 dollar bounty for solving this case. Though he was playing the role of an undercover agent now, Ivan's real plan stretched far beyond this assignment. Once the operation concluded, he could use these connections to smuggle goods; whether drugs from Hampton or other contraband, into Oakland. It was a classic "fake-for-real" scheme: play the part long enough until the act becomes reality.
Turning onto his side, Ivan felt the emptiness of his stomach. It was dinnertime, but his mind churned too actively to think about food.
He glanced at Charlie in the adjacent room. The boy had proven a pleasant surprise. Initially, Ivan had brought him along merely as a convenience; a servant to lend him credibility in meetings with Master Hua. But before their first meeting, Ivan had spent some time teaching Charlie basic manners and found the boy remarkably quick to learn. Charlie wasn't just a liability; he was a potential asset. Young, eager, and intelligent, the boy had the makings of a loyal and capable helper. All Ivan needed to do was invest a little goodwill.
Yet his mind kept returning to the Mexican Cartel, to their bizarre decision to marry a notorious Bandit like Martha into their ranks. Something about it didn't add up. Why would a family as powerful as the Mexicans do this?
Their drug empire was thriving. Gallardo had casually put 800,000 dollars on the table as if it were pocket change. Whatever small-time robberies Martha had committed were insignificant to them, a drop in the ocean of their wealth. Martha was a former slave, property they had trafficked. Even if they wanted to elevate her status for some reason, marriage into the family seemed extreme and entirely against their ethos.
So what was it? What was Martha's true value to them? What secret was hidden behind this unusual arrangement?
---
The next day dawned bright and clear: Tuesday, September 19th. Ivan once again shed the persona of "Rocky Balboa" and donned his real self, "Ivan." Neatly dressed and sharp as ever, he headed to the North Beach Police Station.
Upon reaching the second floor, Ivan walked straight into Sheriff Snowden's office. Without a word, he placed a paper bag on the sheriff's desk, then sat down casually on the worn leather sofa, crossing one leg over the other.
Snowden raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "What's this?" he asked, pulling the paper bag closer. His hands worked the bag open, and as he peered inside, his eyes widened. Stacks of crisp banknotes; small denominations, but unmistakably substantial, filled the bag. Five thousand dollars.
The sight seemed to momentarily short-circuit Snowden's thoughts. "My God," he muttered, his voice almost reverent. He sifted through the bag with his fingers. Though gangs preferred smaller denominations for easier circulation, the sheer weight of the cash gave it an undeniable presence.
"This is the money from the sample you supplied," Ivan explained calmly. "It could have been more, but there was an issue with the storage at your warehouse. The Helein was damp."
Snowden barely registered Ivan's words. His eyes remained glued to the bag as he muttered, "My monthly salary is seventy dollars. Seventy! And this… this is five thousand just for a sample…" He trailed off, almost in disbelief, before abruptly sitting up. A gleam of mischief sparked in his eyes.
"Hell," Snowden said, grinning, "I'm thinking I need to quit my job. With the connections I have here at the station, no one would dare search me. I could move this stuff on the side. One month… and I'd—"
Ivan froze, momentarily stunned. *What is this man talking about?* Was this the face of law enforcement in California?
Snowden must have noticed the look on Ivan's face because he suddenly burst out laughing. "Relax, Ivan. I'm joking. Joking! I have enough on my plate without ending up on the other side of the bars."
The sheriff leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath to center himself. "So," he said more seriously, "was the plan successful?"
Ivan nodded. "Yes. I've established relationships with both the Immigrant Mutual Aid Association and the Mexican Cartel. For now, they seem to trust me."
Snowden leaned forward, his interest sharpening. "And the Kangaroo Bandit? Any leads?"
Ivan's gaze hardened slightly. "She's with the Mexicans."
Snowden's eyes widened. "Are you certain?"
Ivan nodded again. "I am. And there's something else."
He went on to recount everything he had witnessed and heard during his time at the Toltec mansion. The details of Martha's impending marriage, the strange atmosphere in the family, the vast sums of money on the table, it all painted a picture of a situation far more complex than either of them had anticipated.
When Ivan finished, Snowden leaned back in his chair, pulling a cigarette from his desk drawer. He lit it with a shaky hand, his frown deepening as he processed the information.
"This is bad," Snowden muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "This is really bad."
Ivan raised an eyebrow. "What's your concern? The marriage? Or the drugs?"
"Both," Snowden replied grimly. "But mostly the marriage. If the Mexicans are tying themselves to her, there's a reason. A damn good reason. And whatever it is, it's dangerous for anyone involved, including you."
The weight of the words hung heavily in the air. Ivan didn't need to be told twice. He knew the stakes had grown exponentially and the next move had to be made with absolute precision.