Chapter 22: A Big Fish Surfaces

Like any shrewd businessman, Pierre understood the value of information.

This was precisely why every major corporation in the world maintained its own intelligence network.

In commerce, information is money, and intel is wealth.

Sugar—on the surface, one of the most unremarkable bulk commodities—was, at this moment, one of the most sought-after goods in the American market.

"Refined sugar: 55 cents per pound."

Seated in his office chair, Pierre studied the report.

After Pearl Harbor, the market price of sugar had skyrocketed—from 12 cents per pound to over four times that amount.

Now, it hovered around 55 cents per pound, even under official price controls.

"Black market price: $1 per pound."

The profit margin isn't huge...

But when the volume is massive, it doesn't take much per unit to become extremely lucrative.

The report was blunt:

"Due to wartime shipping priorities for critical supplies, sugar is under-distributed.

Candy manufacturers cannot secure raw stock.

Sugar has vanished from many kitchen shelves.

Candy shop owners reserve their best stock for those willing to pay full ceiling price.

A black market has even formed around chewing gum.

Estimated shortage: 5 million metric tons."

Five million tons.

Pierre scribbled some quick figures in his notepad.

Even at official pricing, sugar sold for about $1,200 per ton.

That meant…

$6 billion.

Six billion dollars.

More money than one man could spend in a lifetime.

He was still daydreaming when a startled voice pulled him back to reality.

"My God!"

Of course — it was Zhu Yihai.

The moment he opened the warehouse door, he was stunned speechless.

Row after row of gleaming luxury vehicles — BMWs, Mercedes, Audis — sat neatly arranged inside.

For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating.

"Boss, boss—"

Spotting Pierre leaning against the upper-floor balcony, he called up with amazement.

"You brought all these from Britain?"

"Mostly new cars?"

"More or less. A few used ones in the mix."

"Boss, those aren't used cars. I'd bet anything these will be snatched up the moment we list them!"

Snatched up?

No, Pierre smiled inwardly.

No one else was going to get the chance.

"Thank you for the tea."

The voice was soft, gracious. The smile that accompanied it was warm and disarming — almost charming, even.

"You're very welcome,"

Pierre replied with equal politeness, eyes calmly studying Carlo Gambino.

He had been expecting this moment.

When one did business with the Mafia, sooner or later, the don himself would make an appearance.

And now, finally, he had.

A few dozen luxury cars had lured in the big fish — the legendary godfather of the New York underworld.

Doing business with the Mafia had its benefits.

They didn't ask where the goods came from.

They paid in full, and in cash.

As long as you made sure they didn't think about double-crossing you, things stayed civil.

And the sheer scale of the cargo Pierre had brought over…

Well, it sent a very clear message.

He wasn't someone to be trifled with.

Most importantly, he needed their sales channels.

That was why the don himself had to come.

"I rarely involve myself in business matters,"

Carlo Gambino said, studying the young man seated before him.

Low profile was his defining trait.

He preferred to work through advisors and trusted lieutenants.

He rarely, if ever, made personal appearances.

Today wasn't about the cars — not exactly.

It was about the power required to ship them across the Atlantic.

"I came today because I'm hoping we can establish a long-term relationship,"

Gambino said simply, with his signature quiet smile.

"If you have more vehicles — or other merchandise — I can guarantee the best prices. Always in cash."

"That's exactly why I chose to work with you,"

Pierre said smoothly.

"I'm confident we'll have many more opportunities to collaborate."

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in slightly and added:

"I have connections in official transport logistics.

That's how I managed to bring the cars over — and I can source other goods too. Not just from Britain, but elsewhere."

When dealing with men like Gambino, caution was vital.

This was the kind of Mafia that wielded Tommy guns and made people disappear.

Pierre deliberately mixed truth and fiction — enough to spark fear, but not suspicion.

Let them think he had powerful protectors.

Let them tread carefully.

Gambino paused for a brief second.

His mind was already racing.

So… the last shipment was just a test?

It all made sense now.

This young Frenchman must be a representative — perhaps even an operative — of someone higher up.

Maybe even someone connected to Washington.

After all, no civilian could arrange military-grade shipping of vehicles across wartime seas.

"Mr. Gambino,"

Pierre said mildly,

"real trust is only built through long-term cooperation."

A half-truth, half-lie — and it landed perfectly.

Gambino nodded in quiet agreement.

"Yes. Trust takes time. But I have no doubt you've made the right decision."

"And the moment I saw you walk in, Mr. Gambino,"

Pierre said,

"I knew I had made the right choice too."

"We'll be sending many more shipments to New York," he continued,

"So as long as you have the funds, we'll coordinate naval transport to deliver goods in batches."

Gambino exchanged a glance with his lieutenant, Anastasia, then turned back to him.

"Pierre, if you have more cars — or anything else — just call ahead.

Even if the next deal is ten times larger, I'll be ready with the money."

The transaction wrapped up swiftly.

As Gambino gave the order for the cars to be driven away, he turned to Anastasia.

"Keep the Brooklyn punks away from this warehouse.

This place belongs to Mr. Pierre now.

He's a friend."

Friend?

Sure.

When a Mafia don calls you a friend, you smile and nod — but you never forget the truth.

The Mafia is only loyal to profit.

But then again — money is money.

This shipment earned Pierre a staggering $510,000 in profit.

But the true surprise wasn't the 500% return…

It was what happened next:

[Experience points +120,000]

[New system function unlocked: Trade Module]

"System trade module?

That means I can… conduct trades directly within the system?"

Was this the real reward? The long-awaited system expansion?

Excited, Pierre selected [Enable].

[Temporary expansion of storage capacity now available.]

[Storage cap can be increased by up to 50% for a period of 24 hours.]

He raised an eyebrow.

That's it?

This was the big unlock?

Temporary space expansion — and it cost 10,000 XP to activate.

"Ten thousand points? That's daylight robbery…"

he muttered aloud.

But his hands told a different story.

Even if it was expensive, the benefit was huge.

Actually, he thought, what about… Cuba?

Cuba had always been on his mind.

It was close to the U.S.

And it was the primary supply hub for families like Gambino's.

Maybe it's time to take a look.

With that decision made, Pierre gave Zhu Yihai a few new instructions — to explore other channels for acquiring cigarettes.

Then he drove across town to the French consulate in New York.

There, through the help of one of Louis's old diplomatic contacts — and with a little cash in the right places — he quickly secured a passport.

Unlike his previous temporary travel permit, this was the real thing.

An official passport.

And more importantly, a ticket to go wherever he needed.