Chapter 511 Still Disgusted?

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"Matches, soap, kippers, dried shrimps, spikes, hammers, saws, iron bowls, iron spoons, iron forks, old clothes, kerosene lamps, portable boilers, . . . I can't believe how much we produced, The matches alone are loaded with a full 5,000 tons." A dock worker in the port of Havana sighed.

"You don't even look at how many trees we cut down. The entire forest around Havana has been destroyed." Another dock worker said.

"Chop it up, as long as it can be exchanged for the supplies we need." The former dock worker finished his work and sat on the edge of the dock watching the cargo ship 'Bird of Paradise' slowly leaving the port. The 50,000-ton freighter has been fully loaded with the goods produced by the "Aurora Legion" for nearly two months.

There were more than one or two workers on the pier. In fact, all the residents of Havana who had free time came to the pier. There are even many smugglers who heard the news and hurriedly prepared goods to go to sea, planning to follow suit to make a fortune.

The "Bird of Paradise" is tantamount to pinning all the hopes of the entire corps. In order to fill its oil tanks, all the stocks of the Havana refinery were emptied. Whether it can get support for subsequent development from Mexico depends entirely on it.

Two days later, the "Bird of Paradise" arrived in Progreso, bypassing the monitoring range of the Cancun blockade fleet. The "Enclave" officials at the port who had heard the news earlier were extremely excited. One of them counted as one in the entire city of Merida, and the entire bureaucratic system was dragged down by His Excellency the Governor. Whoever dares not to come at this time is the public enemy of others.

Led by Lieutenant Colonel Harding, all officials were staring at the first container unloaded from the port crane. Open the cabinet and inside is a lot of matches.

After unpacking with a few hisses, Lieutenant Colonel Harding frowned and lit a match, then threw it on the ground and stomped it out. He asked suspiciously: "Are we short of matches? Can this thing be sold? Even if it is sold, how much money can it make?"

The officials who followed were silent, either expressionless or disappointed. Then more containers were unloaded, and more supplies were revealed to everyone. Lieutenant Colonel Harding's face became even more ugly seeing that they were all ordinary, even outdated goods.

"Didn't you say there is whiskey? What I want are high-end luxury goods that can open up a wide range of sales. What use are these things to me?" Lieutenant Colonel Harding kicked a container, and he almost fell with a bang. fall.

"Where is Alfonso, where is that bastard? We took such a big risk and allowed cargo ships from hostile forces to come to our pier, and he shipped me this junk?" Lieutenant Colonel Harding looked left and right. Finding Zhou Qingfeng's shadow, he immediately began to shout loudly.

The 'Enclave' officials who followed them all entered the spectator mode, watching their noses, noses, mouths, and hearts. They said nothing, at most a few echoes when Harding forced them to express their opinions.

Harding was a soldier, and judged the value of goods only according to his own taste. In his opinion, whiskey is the best commodity, cigarettes are also good, and the value of instant noodles is low, and the daily necessities in front of him are simply garbage among garbage, meaningless.

After yelling and cursing for a while, the angry Harding drove away from the pier and went to the Governor's Mansion to settle accounts with Zhou Qingfeng. But as soon as he returned from the pier to Progreso Town, he saw several trucks driving to the gate of his headquarters.

"Lieutenant Colonel Harding, I'm Rubin. I've sent you 10,000 bottles of whiskey, all of which are of the highest quality. Please check and accept them." As a running errand boy, Rubin is now the No. 1 figure in Merida City. As the governor's confidant, there are not a few people who want to curry favor with him.

Hearing that his own whiskey had arrived, Harding's face looked a little better. He opened the trunk by himself, took out a bottle of 'Supreme' brand whiskey and laughed excitedly.

"How do you feel?" Rubin asked timely.

Harding didn't answer, he bit off the bottle cap and gulped down a few mouthfuls, the hot feeling came out of his stomach immediately,

A heat spread throughout the body. He let out a long breath, and sighed with a smile: "This is the real good thing. What you ship from the freighter is all rubbish."

Rubin was still waiting to be praised, but who knew that he would actually get a rating of 'garbage'. Although it wasn't about wine, the things shipped on the freighter weren't garbage after all? The expression on his face immediately restrained, and he asked carefully: "Your Excellency Harding, you don't like the goods delivered this time?"

"Yes, those are worthless things. I think you should bring all the wine here. We can sell whiskey to every place ruled by the 'Enclave', and we will definitely make a lot of money." Harding affirmed Said.

"Oh..., if you need a lot of liquor, according to the agreement reached between our governor and you, one ton of spirits will be exchanged for one ton of diesel oil. As long as you have diesel oil, we can provide enough spirits." Rubin had no intention To say anything on Harding's point is just to repeat the previous agreement.

"Got it, got it. One ton of spirits is exchanged for one ton of diesel oil. This condition is very suitable, and I have already agreed." Harding waved his hand to tell Rubin to leave, and then continued to pour his whiskey.

Rubin unloaded the goods and left, and Harding drank more and more excitedly, thinking that he could make a lot of money by selling whiskey, get a higher official position, and achieve a greater career, he was extremely proud.

After drinking for a long time, Lieutenant Colonel Harding, who was in high spirits, suddenly remembered something—why didn’t those idiot officials on the pier come back? Do they have any illusions about the junk that comes in?

Nothing happened, Lieutenant Colonel Harding was in a good mood and asked to drive him back to the wharf where the cargo was being loaded and unloaded. It's just that before he got out of the car, he saw that the bureaucrats who had looked normal before were blushing.

"None of you is allowed to fight any more. These two thousand portable boilers are all mine."

"Paramount, don't think about it! You can't eat so much food, so I will give you five thousand at most, and we will share the rest."

"You can divide the boiler as you like, but the five thousand tons of matches are mine. I have already contacted the seller in Texas, and I guarantee that I will be able to sell this batch of goods."

"I can transport coal. I have connections in northern Mexico. There are more than 100,000 tons of high-quality coal piled up in the coal mines there. Give up, you can't compete with me."

"Why don't we form a business alliance,..."

"The devil wants to form an alliance with you. You are the weakest of us. You are not qualified to discuss the distribution of supply."

Dozens of people shouted at the scene, and Paramount, the production director of Merida City, even beat them to the ground. No one present was willing to give up such a little profit.

Lieutenant Colonel Harding, who had left early, was stunned. He got out of the car with a bottle of wine, and asked suspiciously, "What are you all doing?"

The dozens of bureaucrats who were still arguing immediately died down, whistling one by one to watch the sky stepping on the ground. Some clothes were messy, and Paramount looked embarrassed and said, "Mr. Harding, since you have voluntarily withdrawn from this batch of supply allocation, please don't join in."

The other people who were still arguing at first nodded their heads in agreement. Only poor Harding stood aside, feeling as if he had picked up sesame seeds and lost watermelon. (To be continued.)

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