80: We have a... a guess

Inside the underground vault, dozens of silent Death Sworn operated several brand-new currency counting machines with almost mechanical precision.

The rustling sound of the currency counting machines converged into a unique symphony, echoing in this ocean of money.

Alberto stood to the side, a cigar held between his fingers.

But it wasn't lit. He just watched quietly, his eyes filled with unprecedented shock.

Even as an intelligence chief, accustomed to all sorts of dirty dealings,

such a massive, pure cash influx still made him feel dizzy.

"Reporting, sir!"

A Death Sworn quickly walked up to him, stood at attention, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"All cash has been counted. A total of nine billion, nine hundred and twenty-five million US dollars."

Alberto's eyelids twitched.

He waved his hand, signaling the man to retreat, then turned and walked out of the vault into David's office.

David was leisurely sitting on the sofa, sipping a freshly brewed cup of Longjing tea.

"Tell me, the final figure."

Alberto took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Nine billion, nine hundred and twenty-five million."

"Oh?"

David put down his teacup, a playful smirk curving his lips.

"Nine point nine billion... it's a bit short."

Alberto was stunned.

A bit short?

This was nearly ten billion US dollars in cash! The boss wasn't satisfied?

"Gomez, that old fox, isn't being honest."

David's fingers gently tapped the desktop, making a rhythmic thud.

"Drug lords who reach his position are all extremely cunning."

"A cunning rabbit has three burrows; it's the most basic survival skill. He wouldn't put all his eggs in one basket."

David stood up and walked to the window, watching the soldiers sweating on the training ground outside.

"This number is too coincidental, close to ten billion, but not quite there."

"He's giving us a psychological hint, making us think we've got everything, thereby overlooking the remaining small change."

He turned his head and looked at Alberto.

"But often, those overlooked small changes are the most crucial."

"Boss, you mean..." Alberto instantly understood.

"Continue the interrogation."

David's tone was flat, but the content was chilling.

"Tell Ethan that Gomez is still hiding things."

"I need everything, not a single cent less. If necessary, use some... more efficient methods."

"Understood."

Alberto nodded and turned to leave.

In the Intelligence Bureau's interrogation room.

When Ethan heard the order relayed by Alberto, he exploded.

"Damn it! That old bastard still dares to play games!"

Ethan slammed his fist on the table, making a loud noise.

He thought about himself and his brothers working themselves to death, moving that mountain of money onto the helicopter like porters.

And yet, the guy still held something back, a surge of nameless anger shot straight to his head.

"Does he think this is playing house?"

Ethan gnashed his teeth, terrifying fury erupting in his eyes.

"Boss, I'll go personally!"

He pushed open the interrogation room door and walked in.

Three days later.

Ethan walked out of the interrogation room, his body exhausted, a few specks of blood splattered on his face, but he didn't care.

He slapped a list full of addresses onto Alberto's desk.

"He spilled everything."

Ethan's voice was extremely hoarse.

"That old bastard hid money in several surrounding countries, and also had several anonymous Swiss bank accounts."

Alberto picked up the list and quickly scanned it.

Based on the clues provided by Gomez, Free Army intelligence personnel and Death Sworn were dispatched again.

A secret "treasure hunt" operation was launched globally.

A week later, the new statistics were released.

Five point two billion US dollars.

Adding the previous portion, the total exceeded fifteen billion US dollars!

When this number was reported to David, he merely nodded calmly.

"Very good."

He looked at Alberto.

"Dispose of Gomez. Sink his body into the sea, leave no trace."

"Yes."

David had no pity for this once arrogant drug lord.

Since all his value had been squeezed out, there was no need to keep him around, wasting food.

With Gomez dealt with, David turned his attention to the massive funds.

"Alberto, pick the most reliable Death Sworn, one who is most sensitive to numbers, and bring him here."

"Boss, you want to..."

"There's too much money, and it's too dirty." David smiled, "We need to find a place for them to take a bath, and while we're at it, teach them how to make money generate more money."

Soon, a somewhat frail-looking Death Sworn, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, was brought before David.

"What's your name?" David asked.

"Reporting, sir, I have no name, my codename is 'Accountant'." The Death Sworn replied, his voice steady.

"Very good. From today on, you are the first president of 'Yunhan Bank'."

David's words were astonishing.

"Yunhan Bank?" Alberto and the Death Sworn were both stunned.

"Yes." David pointed to the ground.

"Our private bank. Its headquarters will be in Santa Cruz, and we will open branches in all major cities within our control zones."

He looked at the Death Sworn named 'Accountant'.

"Your mission is to set up this bank as quickly as possible and turn our money."

"Into legal, globally transferable funds."

"In the future, I plan to open branches in the Middle East and in the Pyramid Nation of Africa."

A glint of ambition flickered in David's eyes.

"My arms business needs a safe, efficient, and completely self-controlled financial channel. Can you do it?"

"Mission accomplished, guaranteed!" Accountant's reply was firm and decisive.

"Very good." David nodded with satisfaction, then gave another order to Alberto.

"Intelligence department, compile all the information on the remaining leaders of the Santa Ana Cartel, the major drug lords and wealthy individuals in La Paz,"

"And corrupt officials. I need to know where all their money is hidden."

David's smile became somewhat dangerous.

"Gomez was just the beginning; there are many rich people in this land. We need to help them... lighten their load a bit."

Meanwhile, in US, Langley.

CIA Headquarters.

In Director Jackson's office, the atmosphere was extremely tense.

He slammed a document onto his desk.

"Useless! All of you are useless!"

Jackson roared at his subordinates.

"It's been so long! You still haven't found out where the Free Army's weapons came from!"

"The gentlemen on Capitol Hill call me every day asking, how am I supposed to answer? Tell them our people are on vacation in South America?"

The subordinate in charge of the investigation stood there trembling, cold sweat trickling down his temples.

"Director... we've done our best."

"The Free Army's security measures are too good; our infiltrated agents can't even get close to the core."

"I don't want excuses!" Jackson roared, "I just want results!"

The subordinate swallowed, then bravely said, "Director, we have a... a guess."

"Speak!"

"We analyzed the specifications and flow of the Free Army's weapons."

"We found some similarities with the mysterious weapons that appeared in Saddam's hands a few years ago... a few years ago."

The air in the office instantly solidified.

Jackson's pupils sharply constricted.

Saddam's mysterious arms dealer.

This was a thorn in the CIA's side, a huge disgrace.

They had used countless resources back then.

But they still couldn't find out who that person was who managed to deliver a large number of advanced weapons to Saddam during the embargo.