ryethenovel Chapter 357 The Underground Black Market
Chapter 357 The Underground Black Market
Chapter 355 The Underground Black Market
After saying goodbye to Mike and his daughter, Lin Yu'an did not return to the hotel immediately.
He hailed a ride-hailing car, but the address he gave was completely opposite to the hotel's direction, located in an old industrial area on the outskirts of the city.
In the car, he appeared to be resting with his eyes closed, but in reality, he had already switched back into the hunter who was surviving alone in the wilderness!
The brain is rapidly analyzing the upcoming journey.
The fifteen-day voyage traversed the Bahamas and the Turks Islands—an area not only renowned for its beautiful scenery but also for its notorious smuggling, drug trafficking, and piracy.
Although modern piracy is far less rampant than in Somalia, robberies targeting lone yachts still occur from time to time.
To entrust one's own and the crew's safety entirely to the Coast Guard's deterrence and a sliver of luck? This is not Lin Yu-an's style.
He believed in the truth that he held forever in his own hands, and that the truth was only within the range of cannons.
He needs to equip himself and this voyage with the sharpest "teeth".
The ride-hailing car stopped at a secluded street corner. After getting out, Lin Yu'an skillfully navigated several blocks through the intricate alleyways, making sure no one was following him.
Finally, we entered a seemingly inconspicuous secondhand bookstore that smelled musty from old books.
He didn't look at the dusty books, but went straight to the counter.
Behind the counter sat an elderly man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who looked like a refined university professor.
Lin Yu'an didn't speak, but simply turned his phone screen towards him. On the screen was a dynamic QR code purchased with cryptocurrency on the dark web.
The old man raised his head, adjusted his glasses, glanced calmly at the QR code, then looked at Lin Yu'an's face, which was covered by a mask, and his sharp, eagle-like eyes.
"Tip, one hundred dollars." His voice was hoarse but calm.
Lin Yu'an took out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the counter.
The old man accepted the money, took out a small barcode scanner from the drawer, and scanned it on Lin Yu'an's phone.
He then pointed to a small door at the far end of the bookstore, with a sign that read "For Employees Only".
"Go in, follow the passage. Don't look back, don't stop."
Lin Yu'an nodded and pushed open the door to enter. Behind the door was a narrow and dimly lit passageway, filled with the damp smell of a basement.
After walking along the passage for about several dozen meters, the view suddenly opened up ahead.
A huge underground space, like an air-raid shelter, appeared before him. Blinding industrial incandescent lights hung from the high dome, illuminating everything below without a trace of shadow.
This is an underground kingdom, completely different from the quiet bookstore above ground.
One of the largest black markets in South Florida, nicknamed "Alligator Market".
As soon as he entered the arena, two burly men wearing tactical vests, who looked like bodyguards, blocked his way.
One of them handed over a black balaclava mask that only revealed the eyes and mouth, along with a pair of black gloves.
"Rules," the burly man's voice was deep and powerful, "wearing them is protecting yourself and others."
Lin Yu-an skillfully put on a mask and gloves, completely concealing his identity. His Asian features were completely covered, and he became an anonymous "customer".
Another burly man followed him like a shadow, neither too close nor too far.
This is not surveillance, but a "service" to ensure his safety during the transaction process and prevent any potential conflicts or "double-crossing".
Lin Yu'an's gaze began to quickly scan this bizarre underground world.
The market was divided into several chaotic yet orderly areas, with each stall consisting of a simple folding table behind which sat various masked "merchants".
The first place he passed was the "Identity Zone" at the entrance, where the most illusory and precious commodity in the world was traded—a new identity.
A man as thin as a bamboo pole had a dozen or so passport templates from different countries laid out in front of him, as if he were selling cars with different configurations.
"A brand new life, my friend. Want the basics? A Philippine passport that lets you travel freely throughout Southeast Asia, $8,000 USD, guaranteed to pass through customs machine scanning."
He picked up a dark blue passport and waved it in front of Lin Yu'an.
"Still want the advanced version? A Canadian passport with a real biometric chip, $20,000. It can input your fingerprints and iris data into their backup database. Unless it alarms the highest intelligence agency in Ottawa, no one will be able to find out anything wrong."
"Of course, if you're looking for the ultimate experience, a Swiss passport that can be verified by a lawyer, with a full set of bank statements, tax records, and social background, costs $100,000. With it, you're not just a legal person, but a clean one"—a wealthy person.
'
At another stall next door, several laptops with constantly flashing data streams were displayed on the table, selling something even more digital.
Do I need a clean Social Security Number (SSN)? Newborn numbers cost $5,000 each, with a credit score of 800.
The above "ghost file," along with five high-limit credit cards, is a complete package worth $30,000.
The stall owner's voice had a hoarse, electronically synthesized quality. "Or—would you like to have one of your annoying neighbors suddenly find a five-hundred-thousand-dollar Venezuelan debt on his credit report? For ten thousand dollars, I can turn his life into a digital nightmare."
Next, we passed the "pharmacy section," where the air was filled with the pungent smell of chemicals and herbs. This wasn't the usual street drugs, but rather more sophisticated, specific-purpose items.
A man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who looked like a chemistry professor, stood in front of rows of labeled glass bottles in a professional refrigerated box.
He whispered to a buyer who looked like a mercenary, “Military-grade modafinil, it keeps you focused for 72 hours, $100 a pill, much better than those generic ones you buy at online pharmacies.”
On the shelves, there is also DMT (dimethyltryptamine) extract, which can induce a strong near-death experience, costing $500 per dose.
There were even some scouranol (commonly known as truth serum) labeled with skulls and used for "special interrogations." This stuff had no market price; sellers would only exchange it for equivalent gold or information.
Lin Yu-an continued to the next area – the "Luxury Goods and Art District".
Here, the glitter of stolen dreams and plundered wealth shines. An overweight woman casually spreads out a pile of uncertified diamonds and Swiss watches on a black velvet cloth, as if she were selling a bunch of cheap crystal ornaments.
"Look at this, a Patek Philippe 5270 million-year calendar watch," she said, picking up a rose gold complication watch and addressing a hesitant buyer. "A brand new one from the boutique would cost two hundred thousand US dollars, but here it's only sixty thousand US dollars, and you can take it home right away."
"Of course, it might have been on some unfortunate soul's wrist in Beverly Hills yesterday, so there's no box or certificate. But the item is absolutely authentic; you can have it verified by any watchmaker."
For less than a third of the market price, they were paying for this shady background and the risks of possessing stolen goods.
At another stall hung several classical oil paintings that were said to have "flowed" from a small European museum. The corners of the frames even showed signs of being forcibly pried open.
A portrait painting attributed to a disciple of Rembrandt, if of legitimate provenance, would be worth at least $500,000. Here, the vendor is offering it for a "friendly price" of only $80,000 in cash, and states that he will not be responsible for any losses once the painting is sold.
Lin Yu'an's gaze swept over the "No Responsibility" sign, and he understood. In a place like this, the sign was tantamount to saying, "Discern for yourself; take the bait if you want."
But these fortunes, whose authenticity was questionable, were irrelevant to him. He ignored the stalls peddling false identities, chemical pleasures, and bloodstained treasures, and headed straight for his target.
In this black market, greed and desire are laid bare. Every passerby's eyes gleam with calculation and longing.
Occasionally, the two parties in a transaction will have a heated argument for various reasons, but the bodyguards who stand by like statues will immediately step forward and use their fists and feet to restore order.
Lin Yu-an finally arrived at the "hard goods zone" located at the deepest part of the black market.
The place was filled with the strong smell of gun oil and metal, and the walls were covered with all sorts of heart-pounding merchandise, like the display cases of a high-end gun shop.
From portable Glock pistols and Sig Sauer P320s to classic AR-15 rifles, and even a few MP5 submachine guns with silencers that you've only ever seen in movies.
A portly man wearing a Hawaiian shirt was sitting on a pile of ammunition boxes, carefully wiping a gold-painted Desert Eagle with a piece of deerskin cloth.
Seeing Lin Yu'an approach, he grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.
"Friend, want to add some credibility to your home security claims?"
Lin Yu'an ignored his joke and, like the most discerning buyer, quickly scanned the weapons on the wall.
What he needs is a weapon that is reliable enough, powerful enough, and whose origin is absolutely untraceable in a maritime environment.
Finally, his gaze settled on a black, tactical-looking gun. Its receiver had a slightly darker, professionally finished polishing mark on the side; the original serial number had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed.
But its uniquely slender handguard and the "DD" markings on the gun silently proclaim its extraordinary origins.
"Daniel Defense DDM4V7, 16-inch cold-forged barrel, M-LOK handguard." He stated the model and key configuration directly.
The fat man abruptly stopped wiping his gun, and looked up in surprise at the masked man.
He's met discerning buyers before, but those who can accurately quote the specifications in one go are definitely a minority.
The DDM4 isn't something just any street thug would recognize. It's a high-end AR15, renowned for its military-grade reliability, ready to be used right out of the box. It's considered one of the "graduation weapons" by many gun enthusiasts.
"Good eye." The fat man put away his frivolous manner, carefully placed the golden spear aside, and solemnly took the gun down from the wall.
He skillfully pulled back the bolt, producing a crisp, pleasant metallic clang, before handing the gun to Lin Yu'an: "This V7 is one of the most popular models, balancing accuracy and mobility."
"The original serial number has been completely removed; it's an absolute ghost gun. This gun would be worth at least two thousand US dollars on the legal market, but I'm offering it for nine thousand US dollars. I guarantee you won't find any record of it."
"I know what you're thinking, friend. A brand new one on the legal market costs just over two thousand dollars. Here I am, nine thousand dollars. It sounds like robbery."
The fat man grinned, his tone tinged with smugness and arrogance: "But you need to understand what you bought with that extra seven thousand dollars. It's not just about smoothing out a few numbers; you bought freedom and innocence."
"Where do you think the AR-15s on the black market come from? Most of them are stolen goods from some unlucky guy's safe. Those guns might not be well maintained, with rust in the barrel; they might have been modified by their previous owners, with unreliable parts replaced."
"What if you pull the trigger at the crucial moment and it jams? Or, worse, that gun might have already been used in a case, and its 'fingerprints' are still in the police's ballistics database!"
"By buying it, you might be taking the blame for a murderer. Ours, on the other hand, is a 'virgin' straight off the production line; it might not even have been loaded with a single bullet."
"Friend, do you know what the soul of the AR series guns is in America?" He didn't explain directly, but instead posed a question first.
Seeing that Lin Yu'an did not answer, he answered his own question by pointing to the lower part of the gun with his finger, the metal part where the trigger and magazine were installed.
"This is it, the lower receiver. It's the only part available, engraved with a unique serial number. Legally, the AR series is only recognized as a gun."
"Barrels, stocks, scopes—everything else is just an unregulated accessory; you can buy it online and have it delivered right to your door."
"What we got through our channels was the lower receiver!"
The fat man paused, letting Lin Yu'an process the information, then raised a finger and pointed it at the polished metal.
"Secondly, don't think that erasing the serial number means you can just sand it down casually. My friend, in the United States, tampering with a gun's serial number is a federal felony, which carries a minimum sentence of five years in prison, with no upper limit."
"This small piece of metal in front of you embodies our top-tier technology and enormous legal risks!"
"We use a microcomputer milling machine to precisely mill away the metal layer with the number engraved on it, then use laser micro-welding to fill it with metal powder of the same material, and finally perform a military-grade anodizing treatment on the whole thing."
"After this whole process, even if you send it to the FBI's forensic lab and examine it under an electron microscope, it will look like a piece of metal that has never been engraved with anything. The gun's physical and legal identity will be perfectly erased."
"Finally, we added brand-new parts that we bought legitimately—namely, the barrel and bolt—to create a 'ghost gun' with absolutely no records whatsoever, inside or out."
This vivid and evocative explanation makes the creation of the Ghost Gun clear and easy to understand, and makes its absolutely clean nature even more shocking and alluring.
He looked into Lin Yu'an's eyes behind the mask and dropped the final, and most valuable, point: "In the end, this $7000 is still a silent insurance policy. The factory mole, the transport driver, and me—everyone on this line is gambling with their freedom."
"Each of us carries enough charges to spend a lifetime in federal prison: illegal transportation, conspiracy, unlicensed transactions—most of the money you pay doesn't go into my pocket, but rather to feed every mouth in this silent chain."
"They're willing to stake their entire fortune and their lives on this deal. What you're buying is a promise built on countless ten-year prison sentences!"
"So, friend, think it through. Do you want to spend two thousand dollars on a secondhand weapon that might land you in murder trouble? Or do you want to spend nine thousand dollars on a perfectly functioning, clean-cut ghost companion?"
Lin Yu'an took the gun and, amidst the fat man's incessant chatter, weighed it in one hand, his fingers tracing the cut of the MLOK handguard, feeling the cold metallic texture.
He inspected the rifling and bolt action, and the fat man's words confirmed his judgment. Choosing Daniels Defense was choosing physical reliability. And the fat man's words just now confirmed the reliability of the rules here.
"I want two." Lin Yu'an's voice was completely calm. "Also, give me forty MagpuI PMAG magazines, 7000 rounds of 5.56mm training ammunition, and 3,000 rounds of M855A1 enhanced performance ammunition."
Upon hearing the precise military designation "M85-5-A-1", the fat man unconsciously raised his eyebrows.
This is not the ordinary 5.56mm bullet commonly found on firing ranges, but rather a US military ammunition with a steel penetrator, which can effectively deal with light bunkers and ballistic equipment. It is priced per bullet on the black market and is a highly sought-after, high-risk item.
"No problem." The fat man grinned, his face contorted with grease; this was a big deal.
The fat man immediately started pressing buttons on the calculator, muttering to himself: "Two DDM4s, 18,000. PMAG magazines, 50 each on the black market, 2,000 forty."
"Standard 5.56 training rounds, bulk orders get a discount, one yuan per round, 7,000 rounds is 7,000. M855A1 is military grade, high risk, three yuan per round, 3,000 rounds is 9,000."
He looked up and quoted a total price: "Rifle and accessories, $36,000 in total."
Lin Yu'an didn't even blink when he heard the price.
"Also," he pointed to the Staccato P in the glass case, the model with an optical sight interface, "how much is this?"
Staccato, formerly known as the famous STI, is synonymous with the top-of-the-line 2011 pistol (a double-stack magazine version of the 1911). It is renowned for its competition-level accuracy and excellent shooting feel, and is the choice of many US law enforcement SWAT teams.
"Staccato P, competition-grade precision, standard equipment for many SWAT teams, around three thousand on the legal market. The ghost version I have here with the serial number removed, seven thousand US dollars."
"Two," Lin Yu-an added, "with ten spare magazines and 3000 rounds of Hornady's 9mm Critical Mission ammunition."
The fat man pressed the calculator again: "Two pistols, 14,000. Spare magazines, 100 each, 1,000 for ten. Hornady hollow-point bullets, 1.5 yuan each, 3,000 rounds for 4,500."
He quoted the total price again: "The handgun part, a total of $19,500."
"That's fifty-five thousand five hundred US dollars in total." The fat man looked at Lin Yu'an, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Cash transaction, I'll round it down for you, fifty-five thousand, how about it, friend?"
"Sure." Lin Yu'an's answer was simple and straightforward, as if he were buying a used car.
The ease with which this huge deal was completed made the fat man beam with excitement, and he couldn't help but add, "Two top-of-the-line DDM4s, plus two Staccatos—buddy, are you planning something big?"
Before the fat man could finish speaking, Lin Yu'an's eyes turned cold almost imperceptibly.
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