CHAPTER 426: CHAPTER 263: PRISON BREAK_2

Those powerful conglomerates not only possessed armies more elite than official forces but also controlled numerous gangs of varying sizes. These gangs served as their overt cannon fodder, occupying various resource-producing territories and simultaneously intimidating both officials and civilians. It could be said that they were the real controllers of the cities. Barton naturally couldn’t reach people of such standing. But besides the drug cartels, there was another group of people in this country—invisible and intangible, yet wielding a mysterious influence. Coincidentally, Barton had encountered this group years ago while trying to protect his family!

A group of people rode their motorcycles through the streets. Junkies hiding in the shade, upon spotting the convoy, would quickly retract their feet from the road, terrified of being run over and subsequently beaten, a fate that could cost them their lives.

Soon after, Barton’s small convoy stopped in front of a small motel. The motel didn’t seem to have much business. Strangely enough, none of the usual junkies were visible around the establishment, and even passersby kept their distance, as if it were some kind of restricted area.

"Dismount!" Barton waved his hand.

Several of his cousins dismounted, tucking their hands into their waistbands as they vigilantly scanned their surroundings.

One of them, a middle-aged man in his forties with a weathered face, blocked Barton’s path with concern, "Barton, I don’t know what opportunity you’re talking about, but these people aren’t as easy to deal with as you imagine. Are you sure you want to work with them?"

Barton nodded resolutely. "In this country, I see no hope. I don’t want my children to have to continue living cautiously in this filthy nation!"

"Then we could just smuggle ourselves into the neighboring country... you..."

"No more talk!" Barton cut his relative off, his stance resolute. "Don’t be naive. In any country, it’s the bottom class that gets devoured; it’s just a matter of being preyed on by a different set of people. This opportunity is a sign from our ancestors. If I don’t fight for it, I’ll die with regrets!"

The middle-aged man sighed and stepped aside. Barton was the most clever and capable of their family’s generation. Since he had already made his decision, as relatives, they could only choose to support him. Under his family’s watchful eyes, Barton walked with determined steps into the inconspicuous motel.

This was a very common motel, plainly decorated, with a meter-high reception desk right at the entrance. Behind the desk, a white-haired old man was dozing in front of an antiquated black-and-white television. On the counter, there was a small bell and a room rate chart, but the thick dust coating them told any potential guest that this motel hadn’t done business for a very long time.

Barton looked at the old man’s familiar face, swallowed hard, then cautiously picked up the small bell and, amidst a swirl of dust, carefully shook it.

DING-DONG.

With the dull sound of the bell, the dozing old man’s eyes snapped open. He stared intently at Barton, who stood at the reception desk, for several seconds before his raspy voice asked, "Single or double room?"

"Double room..." Barton found himself stammering involuntarily.

"Double room?" Upon hearing this, the old man’s expression turned odd.

He stroked his messy beard. "I remember you. Five years ago, you traded information about a shipment for our help in killing a small-time gang leader. You should know our rules!"

Barton took a deep breath and nodded. "I know."

This place was actually one of the Mysterious Organization’s outposts. The organization’s business included assassination, intelligence trading, and arms dealing, among other things, all adhering to the principle of equivalent exchange. They had outposts all over Mexico and never feared the local officials or drug cartels. A single room was for business deals below one million US Dollars; a double room was for deals exceeding one million US Dollars. Evidently, in the old man’s eyes, Barton didn’t qualify to choose a double room, which explained his peculiar expression.

"Alright then. Good luck!" The old man reached out and, hidden from Barton’s view, rhythmically pulled a thin string in front of him.

About ten seconds later, an expressionless woman appeared at the landing of the second-floor staircase and beckoned to Barton.

Barton subconsciously touched the test tube in his breast pocket, his heart pounding with apprehension as he ascended the stairs.

Under the woman’s guidance, they reached a room at the end of the second-floor corridor. The moment he entered, Barton thought he heard a faint ringing in his ears. Once the door closed behind him, all external sounds were cut off, plunging his surroundings into an eerie silence.

"Here, everything you do will be kept confidential. You may state your purpose now," the woman said coolly, seating herself on a chair in the center of the room without any gesture of hospitality towards Barton.

Barton reached into his coat and pulled out the remaining test tube filled with a brown liquid. "This is a treasure of immeasurable value. I need to speak with someone who has real authority!"

"Immeasurable?" The woman chuckled dismissively. "Is it worth one hundred million US Dollars?"

"Far more!" Barton swirled the test tube in his hand. "The raw materials for this cost no more than one hundred US Dollars, but I guarantee that if it were sold, even at ten thousand US Dollars a vial, no man who could afford it would refuse!"