100: Chapter 100 The Gray Ledger

An old warehouse in Brooklyn had been converted into a temporary safe house.

There were no windows, the walls were lined with soundproofing foam, and only a few industrial-style pendant lights cast a pale, sickly light.

Jack Martin sat in front of several monitors arranged side by side, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

The screens were filled with red and green candlestick charts and dense, detailed ledgers.

"Coffee."

Chen Mo placed a freshly brewed cup of instant coffee on the corner of the table and pulled up a folding chair to sit opposite Jack.

He wasn't wearing a police uniform; instead, he wore a common gray hoodie and was toying with a screw he had just picked up from the floor.

"Thanks, boss." Jack picked up the cup and took a gulp, wincing at the bitterness.

"The assets left behind by the Gambino Family are even more extensive than we anticipated. Thirteen Italian restaurants, five large laundromats, and that underground transportation network spread across Queens."

"Can we wash it all?" Chen Mo asked.

"It's a bit of a struggle." Jack pushed up his glasses, the cold light of the data reflecting off the lenses.

"The current cash flow is too large. Just the cash sent over from Richie's side every day is nearly three million."

"Although our Legacy Trust has a banking license, if a large amount of small-denomination cash floods in over a short period, the Federal Reserve's monitoring system will definitely trigger an alarm."

Chen Mo stood the screw upright on the table, watched it fall, and then stood it up again.

"Then we'll just have to dig a bigger pool."

"How?"

"We need a platform." Chen Mo took out his phone, pulled up a sketch he had prepared long ago, and pushed it toward Jack.

"Current underground transactions are too primitive. To buy a gun, you need a middleman; to buy a bag of powder, you need a code. It's so inefficient, it's like we're still in the Middle Ages using carrier pigeons."

Jack picked up the phone and looked at the architectural diagram of something resembling a shopping website on the screen, his eyelids twitching twice.

"This is..."

"The dark web version of Amazon." Chen Mo's tone was as flat as if he were talking about setting up a pancake stand.

"I want to build a closed trading system. Every gang in New York—whether you're selling arms, intelligence, or in the flesh trade—if you want to trade, you have to go through this platform."

"The platform provides the guarantee. Once the transaction is complete, the money will cycle through thousands of our overseas shell accounts before returning to them as legitimate investment income."

"Of course, we'll take a ten percent commission."

Jack's hand trembled, and he nearly spilled his coffee on the keyboard.

He looked at Chen Mo as if he were looking at a madman: "Boss, this... this is equivalent to taxing every criminal in New York.

They'll go crazy. Those Irish, Russians, and those reckless Mexican gangs—how could they possibly agree to this?"

"They will agree." Chen Mo smiled, revealing two rows of white teeth. "Because we can provide them with what they want most—security."

"Transactions on this platform mean no police stings and no double-crossing. If anyone dares to default on a debt, the Legacy enforcement team will teach them a lesson.

Compared to the risk of being arrested or shot, a ten percent commission is practically charity."

Jack fell silent.

As a Wall Street elite, he instantly understood the terrifying nature of this business model.

This wasn't just dabbling in the underworld; this was creating a monopoly and setting industry standards.

Once this platform was up and running, Chen Mo would be the central bank governor of the underworld.

"Is it technically feasible?" Chen Mo asked.

"Yes." Jack took a deep breath, the fear in his eyes gradually replaced by fanaticism.

"The server resources we acquired during the Astor Bank case can be put to good use. However, it will take some time to build the firewall."

"I'll give you a week." Chen Mo stood up. "I want to see the beta version go live."

"No problem." Jack's fingers returned to the keyboard, typing even faster than before.

Just as Chen Mo was preparing to leave, Jack suddenly called out to him.

"Wait a second, boss. There's something you should see."

Jack pulled up a separate window and pointed to a stream of red data on it.

"We found this while auditing the old accounts of the Gambino Family.

Every month on the fifteenth, a fund of 200,000 USD is wired from Texas into one of the Gambino Family's construction company accounts through a shell company called Lone Star Logistics."

"The listed purpose is consulting fees."

Chen Mo narrowed his eyes. Texas—that was the stronghold of the elder Bush and the lair of many military-industrial complexes.

"Where is Lone Star Logistics registered?"

"A mailbox address in Houston." Jack tapped on the keyboard quickly.

"But I checked the company's registered agent, and it's a dead person. Even more interesting is that this company owns three heavy-duty refrigerated trucks that have interstate inspection exemption rights."

"Inspection exemption rights?" Chen Mo chewed on the word. "Only the Department of Homeland Security can grant that kind of clearance."

It seemed that the doctor he had already eliminated and the pizza shop that had been burned down were just the tip of the iceberg.

Although Ouroboros had lost a tail, its head was still intact.

"Keep an eye on this lead." Chen Mo patted Jack on the shoulder. "Don't spook them. See when the next remittance is."

"The fifteenth of next month."

"Very good." Chen Mo pulled down the brim of his hat. "When the time comes, we'll go pick up a package."