European VAM Consortium

Chapter 96: Europe’s VAM Consortium (45th extra chapter, thanks to Brother Zi Mu!!)

Undoubtedly.

Lester’s statement was a blatant probe, testing the relationship between the Black King and Lake.

Lake didn’t care about this.

Ever since he got the clone, it wasn’t the first time Lake and the Black King had appeared on screen together. Without the clone, Lake might have exploded in anger at Lester’s probing.

But now?

Setting aside that he and Hydra were already ordinary friends due to Hydra’s sincerity and respect, Lake also intended to flesh out the Black King’s alias.

So.

Lake showed no signs of flying off the handle, merely stating calmly that they were benefactor and beneficiary, leaving Hydra to guess the rest.

Lester clearly hadn’t anticipated this layer of relationship between the Black King and Lake, and seemed to fall into a bit of silence.

Lake stood up and put down his empty wine glass. "Nothing else, I’ll be going now."

Lester snapped back to attention. "Wait."

Lake sat back down with a smile. "What, do you have business for me?"

As the saying goes.

Lake didn’t care who he killed. As long as the target met his rules, he didn’t care who placed the order.

He had killed two of Hydra’s men, so one thing at a time!

Lester nodded. "Yes."

Lake chuckled and shook his head.

Seeing this, Lester said, "This person fits Mr. Black King’s profile perfectly, and we’re willing to offer a million US dollars."

Lake waved his hand. "In three months. I have something, I need to leave New York for a while."

Lester fell silent upon seeing this.

Lake thought for a moment, wrote down a number on a slip of paper, and handed it to Lester. "Call this number in three months. As long as it meets my standards, I’ll take the job."

He really had something to do.

A million dollars.

Taking this job would allow him ten draws in the lottery. That damned lottery cheat system even gave a free gift box draw for every ten draws, though Lake had never managed to save up a million dollars for a draw.

When he saved up a hundred thousand, Lake would get the illusion that this time he would definitely draw a golden legendary item.

He repeatedly failed.

But Lake enjoyed it nonetheless.

Lester asked curiously, "Mr. Black King, may I be so bold as to ask where you are going? Perhaps, if you go elsewhere, we might be able to help."

Lake smiled. "You can’t help with this."

After saying that.

Lake got up and left without looking back.

The next day.

Lake was packing his things at home. He genuinely had something to attend to. Ever since he lost the opportunity to live off women at the age of twenty, he had to go abroad every year from February to June.

"Ring ring ring!"

"Hello."

"Brother."

It was Betty Ross’s call.

Lake held the phone, stuffing clothes into his suitcase. "What’s up?"

Betty chuckled. "Are you going to Budapest?"

Lake’s expression was blank. "No, I’m busy. Find a personal shopper yourself!"

"Brother—"

"No!"

Lake rolled his eyes. Ever since his first trip to Budapest eleven years ago, when he brought back local specialty pastries for Betty, she had been insatiable.

Good heavens.

It had been eleven years now. Lake had to bring back pastries every time he went. Starting last year, Lake felt that the way people there looked at him had changed.

How to put it.

It was a look that clearly saw him as a kept man, someone who got free food and lodging and then took more. If it weren’t for certain matters?

Heh.

Lake would have long ago used an infinite version Glock 17 to silence those people.

"Brother!!!"

"I’m not planning on going this year."

"What?"

Betty, on the other end of the phone, was stunned before saying, "You’re definitely lying to me. Didn’t you say you go there every year to breathe the air of true freedom, to avoid going crazy? Why aren’t you going this year?"

Lake chuckled, "You don’t believe me? Wait until we video call tomorrow and you can see if I’m in New York."

Before, he didn’t have a clone.

Now?

Lake had already figured it out. Before, he used to take leave for his vacations, losing three months’ salary at once. This year would be different. His clone would continue to work and slack off in New York, while his main body would go to Budapest to cultivate his relationship with his dear little one and the mother of his child.

The plan was perfect.

Betty had nothing more to say and could only hang up the phone.

Lake smiled, tossed the phone aside, and continued packing his luggage.

In the evening.

Lake, having taken off his glasses, left The Continental Hotel, rented a car from The Continental Hotel, and then drove straight out of the city to the countryside of New Jersey.

At a private airport in the suburbs of Jersey City, a Gulfstream private jet had been waiting quietly on the tarmac for a long time.

"Mr. Morabbi."

"Good evening."

Lake handed his car keys to the gatekeeper of the airport, a Mr. Morabbi who looked seventy or eighty years old and was wearing a brightly colored shirt. He then carried his luggage bag and walked towards the private jet not far away.

There were two bodyguards in black suits at the boarding gate.

Looking closely…

The suits of these two men were clearly of a higher grade than Lake’s suit.

"Anton."

"Sahu."

"…"

Lake greeted them as usual, and as usual, he received no response. He shrugged, long accustomed to it, and boarded the plane.

After looking around, the two bodyguards’ gazes fell on a small grove of trees outside the airport. They exchanged glances, then shook their heads. Only Anton, on the left, opened his mouth towards the small grove of trees, and then the two of them turned and boarded the private jet one after the other.

Ten minutes later.

The private jet taxied and entered the takeoff state.

Soon.

The plane disappeared into the clouds.

Half an hour later.

A black sedan slowly drove out from the road near the small grove of trees and headed towards New York. The person in the passenger seat took out their phone and dialed.

The call was connected.

"Sir."

"How is it?"

"Black King left on a private jet parked at an airport in the suburbs of Jersey."

"…Did you see clearly?"

"Yes, although I didn’t see his face, Black King was not out of sight the entire way. I can be ninety-nine percent sure it was him."

"Also… Sir…"

"Speak."

"…The two bodyguards at the plane door just now seemed to have discovered us."

"What, are you sure?"

"…I can’t be sure."

"…"

Just then, a man sitting in the back seat looked up and said, "I found information from the Air Traffic Control. It’s a plane belonging to the European VAM Consortium."

"VAM?"

"Yes, Sir."

"…Understood. Is Lake Edwin still at that bar?"

"Yes, Sir."

"…"

Alexander Pierce directly hung up his phone.

His brows were tightly furrowed.

V—A—M!

This was the name of a consortium in Europe, but it was a combination of three people’s names.