Brazil: Criminal Empire - Chapter 106: Hit the Jackpot (Patreon)

“Boss, this bald guy’s name is Correa. He’s one of the top leaders of Crazy Train. He and two other leaders are fighting over this territory.”

No. 2 added the information from the side. He had seen Correa’s file before.

Rock nodded and walked over to Correa, whose head was covered in blood.

By now, Correa was almost unrecognizable. His eyes and mouth were badly swollen.

His eyes were bloodshot, and blood was still pouring from his nose.

Rock stopped in front of him and met his hate-filled gaze.

“Correa, I know you hate me right now. But you’d better give me what I want without making this difficult.”

“You’ve already experienced what my men can do. They’re all former BOPE. They could torture you for two or three days and still keep you alive without any trouble.”

“So tell me what you know. First, I’ll give you a quick death. Second, I can use your money and weapons to take down your rivals.”

Rivaldo and the other two squad members had not expected Rock to negotiate with Correa like this.

He had made it perfectly clear that Correa was going to die. The only choice Correa had was whether it would be quick or drawn out.

What surprised Rivaldo even more was that Rock had openly told Correa he could use Correa’s own money and weapons to eliminate his competitors.

It was like a hitman telling his employer, “You can pay me to kill your rival, but I’m taking your life too.”

Rivaldo had already been preparing to beat Correa again after the man contemptuously spat out a mouthful of blood.

Instead, Rock’s words made Correa’s eyes open wide.

After several strained, wheezing breaths, Correa spoke again.

“You have to promise you’ll kill Jairo too.”

Rivaldo and the other two squad members gave the bound Correa strange looks.

That was all he wanted?

He should have said so sooner.

Cassiano’s squad was already fighting fiercely over there.

Even from here, the rapid bursts of machine-gun fire were clearly audible.

“No problem. I guarantee Jairo will be joining you before the day is over.”

Rock calmly agreed to Correa’s condition.

“Rivaldo, write this down.”

With Correa struggling to speak, Rivaldo recorded three addresses.

One was in the Stone River favela, one in Ipanema, and one in Leblon.

According to Correa, the three locations held at least eight million dollars in cash.

Drug traffickers certainly had money. They dealt with huge amounts of cash that could not simply be deposited into banks or reported for tax purposes.

Spending it, however, was another matter.

That was why two of the three locations were in Rio de Janeiro’s well-known wealthy neighborhoods, which suited Correa’s status perfectly.

From this point on, though, those properties and everything inside them belonged to Rock.

“Take your time on the way over. Jairo will be joining you soon.”

Rock looked at Correa, who was still breathing heavily, and did not wait for a response.

He pulled Correa’s T-shirt up over his head. With a quick twist of his hands, Correa’s burly body went limp in the chair.

Rock casually took two tissues from the table and wiped his fingers clean. Then he tossed them into the suite’s bathroom and flushed them away.

He did not care if someone discovered the marks he had left while climbing the wall outside the window, but he would never leave behind tissues stained with blood and fingerprints.

Rivaldo watched Rock’s back with admiration.

Back when they were in BOPE, they had killed drug traffickers without hesitation, but even they could not yet kill someone with the same casual ease Rock had just shown.

Rivaldo had not witnessed Rock’s assault on the Great Rock Wall Favela.

But he had been there throughout the fighting in the Slope favela.

The bodies, blood, and mangled flesh scattered along the way had made one thing obvious. Rock was a gang boss who could kill without batting an eye.

Yet as far as Rivaldo could tell, Rock had never harmed ordinary civilians.

That was one of the things Rivaldo respected about his boss.

“Boss, I’m here.”

Footsteps approached, and No. 5 entered with a Glock raised.

Even though the gang boss had personally told him to come inside, No. 5 remained extremely cautious, carefully clearing the area as he advanced.

“Put down your FN FAL. From now on, this M24 is yours.”

Rock pointed at the M24 resting on the table.

“Yes, Boss.”

No. 5’s eyes lit up.

He immediately set down the FN FAL and picked up the M24 from the table with both hands.

Both rifles used the same 7.62×51mm NATO-standard ammunition.

Since they shared the same caliber, No. 5 did not even need different ammunition. The only thing he needed to replace was the magazines.

The M24’s magazine held only five rounds, while the FN FAL held twenty.

But there was no comparison between the two when it came to accuracy.

For No. 5, the far more accurate M24 would greatly improve his hit rate.

“Rivaldo, you guys come over and switch weapons too. Leave the guns you replace inside. I’ll send someone to collect them later.”

The five of them, including Rock, first replaced their pistols with FN57s.

Then they swapped their AR-series assault rifles and compact assault rifles for FN P90s.

Rivaldo was now serving directly as the machine gunner, so after replacing his weapons and ammunition, he was left carrying only an M249 light machine gun and an FN57.

He also had to carry two 200-round ammunition boxes.

The other two assault team members switched to the P90 and FN57 combination.

After the upgrade, each of them carried 490 rounds in total, with nine transparent 50-round P90 magazines and two 20-round FN57 magazines.

Rock still refused to give up his AK-308, but he replaced his G36 C with a P90.

He also replaced his Glock with an FN57.

On top of his own weapons and ammunition, Rock carried two additional 200-round ammunition boxes for Rivaldo.

Once everyone had finished changing equipment, Rock told them to head downstairs first. He said he would arrange things here so he could later send someone to haul the remaining weapons away.

After everyone had gone downstairs, Rock strode into the armory next door.

With a single thought, the entire room was emptied.

Even a mouse would have cried at the sight.

Once everything had been stored away, Rock suddenly noticed something odd about one of the cabinets.

He pulled it open and discovered a large safe hidden behind it.

Correa had never mentioned the safe at all.

Rock suspected it might have been something Ricardo had left behind.

Ciro, who knew how to pick locks, was not with him.

Before gaining his current ability, Rock might have needed to find a fire axe to deal with the safe.

Now, that was completely unnecessary.

Getting its contents out was easy.

Rock’s storage space had an effective range of five meters.

Without opening the safe door at all, he simply transferred everything inside directly into his storage space.

When Rock checked what he had taken, his face immediately lit up.

He had struck it rich.

“Ricardo, I forgive you for sending people after me. Let’s just forget the whole thing ever happened.”

Most of what he had taken from the safe was U.S. currency.

Judging by the amount, there was at least six million dollars.

There was also nearly 500,000 Brazilian reais in cash and a SIG Sauer P320.

At the very bottom was a notebook.