He laughed heartily.
The entire blind auction was sold out, with no unsold numbers. Coupled with internal collusion, John's bidding, and intelligence guidance, the final profits would be substantial.
Old Chris was that kind of businessman.
Click.
Another new cigar.
The obese middleman readjusted his flesh on the sofa, stamped his feet, and someone came to groom his beard, wipe his body, and brought in contraband drugs with complex ingredients.
The venue became noisy.
Those customers who successfully bid stood up from their booths, returning to the surface through hidden roller doors around them, with many routes, each guarded by bodyguards.
This is how illegal venues work.
The entrance is very small and strict, but there are many exits, and they are mostly one-way.
"John, don't be in a hurry to leave."
Old Chris stopped him.
