The Mafia Empire
Chapter 28: Chapter 28 Something Is Wrong

Early the next morning, Huen came to Julian, who had just awakened, with proof of ownership for his farm. The two went to the "Land Use Office" in Ternell City to complete the transfer registration for the land asset.

The process was not complicated, both parties signed a sale and transfer contract, confirming that Huen was selling his farm to Julian for eighteen hundred dollars, and they both signed and stamped their fingerprints. Once each party had a copy of the document and the Land Use Office had filed their copy, the land belonged to Julian.

He handed eighteen hundred dollars to Huen and had him sign a receipt.

Watching Huen quickly leave the office, Julian beckoned with his finger, and immediately a young man dressed in a shirt and suspenders, wearing a checkered flat cap, ran over. This young man had fair skin, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, looking quite handsome. His name was Dave, a sprightly lad and a member of the local community association.

He lowered his head and stood behind Julian on his right side. "President?"

Julian nodded and lifted his chin. "Take a few people to keep an eye on him. See where he goes. If he goes to replace that guy named Morris, come back. If he goes straight outside the city, capture him and send him to Morris. Tell Morris he's got money now."

The purpose of this was to prevent Huen from running away after receiving the money. Julian could easily imagine that once Morris discovered his two thousand two hundred dollars were missing, in his anger and despair, he would certainly blame Julian for it.

Although the complete paperwork could prove that he had bought the ranch from Huen, Morris would not hesitate to extort Julian to recover his losses.

Julian was not afraid of trouble, but that did not mean he was willing to actively seek it out, so it was better to keep an eye on things.

Dave stepped outside and whistled, and immediately four or five young men of similar age and attire approached. Passersby occasionally shot them disdainful looks. If it weren't for the knives poking out of their pockets as they walked, silencing everyone, someone would have probably scolded them by now. The excitement on these young men's faces suggested they believed they were doing something great.

They followed closely behind Huen, tracking him to Seventh Street, where he entered a familiar deli.

"Dave, is our task just to follow him?" one of his companions asked.

Dave was relatively well known among the local youth, having served time in juvenile prison for a year due to assault. He had stabbed a drunken man attempting to assault his sister thirty times, nearly killing him. If not for the circumstances and Mr. Heidler hiring a lawyer for him, he might not have been released for eleven years, let alone one.

That drunken man had survived at first, but died days later from organ failure.

Thus, Dave held significant sway among his peers, and everyone followed his lead.

He nodded, saying, "The president ordered me to keep an eye on him. If he meets Morris, we'll return. If he goes directly out of town, we'll grab him."

As he spoke, Huen emerged from the deli in under five minutes, which seemed a bit too quick. Dave straightened up, tilted his head to his companions, and said, "Something's not right. You all stay here and keep an eye on him.

I'll go see if Morris is around." His companions didn't know how Dave intended to check if Morris was there, but they had an inexplicable trust in him, so they immediately vowed to watch Huen closely.

After arranging things, Dave walked a few steps down the sidewalk, opened the mailbox in front of a house, pulled out an envelope, and ran back toward the deli.

Upon entering the deli, Dave glanced at the room's layout. Behind a counter selling smoked meats and hams, there was only one door. He lowered his flat cap a bit and walked toward it.

At that moment, someone blocked his way. "Hey, kid, don't wander around!"

Dave raised the envelope in his hand. "Someone sent me here to deliver a letter to a gentleman named Morris."

The deli employee, who had stopped him, reached out to grab it, but Dave dodged backward, avoiding his hand. "That won't do, sir. The person who sent me said it must be handed to Mr. Morris himself, and he would also give me ten cents!"

If Dave had only said the first half, the employee would have insisted on taking it. But when Dave mentioned the ten cent reward, the employee withdrew his hand and cleared a path. "Turn left when you go in, the last room is it. Don't steal anything, and don't wander around!"

Dave smiled, nodded, and walked in. "I'm not a thief!"

Once inside, he looked around. To the right was a cold storage room, and to the left was a corridor about ten meters long, with doors on both sides. At the end of the corridor, there was also a door. He jogged to the innermost left room and knocked on the door. A voice called out from inside, "Come in."

He opened the door, peeking inside. The room was small, featuring a large table, a set of worn out sofas, and a coffee table.

On the coffee table lay a lot of coins, and three shady looking individuals were counting money. Behind the large table sat a man in a white suit with a pink shirt, slicked hair, and his feet propped up on the table.

He glanced at Dave, raising an eyebrow. "What's up?"

Dave raised the envelope in his hand and shook it. "Someone sent me here to deliver a letter to a gentleman named Morris. Is Mr. Morris here?"

The slick haired man lowered his feet, looking at Dave with curiosity, and introduced himself, "I am Morris. Who sent you?"