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Chapter 286 c
🕑 Added 2025-06-14 15:00:12 +0000 UTCChapter 286 c
Just then, a flash of cold light sliced through the air.
A mantis blade, gleaming with a chilling shine, tore through the arm of the fake officer knocking on the window and plunged straight into the bodyguard’s forehead, pinning him dead to the seat.
The second bodyguard was also shot and killed by another assailant dressed as a traffic cop, who had drawn a concealed firearm from inside his jacket.
María screamed, clutching her head with both hands. José panicked, his face turning ghostly pale.
Another assailant, also disguised as an officer, grabbed the locked door with both hands. His steel cyberarms hissed with steam and released bursts of white vapor. He barely had to exert force before he ripped the door clean off the car.
“You… do you know who I am? What do you think you're doing?” José tried to resist, but one of the attackers smashed him in the face with a fist. Blood sprayed from his nose as stars appered before his eyes, and he was yanked out and pinned to the ground.
Another assailant grabbed María by the hair. Finding her soft, silky hair hard to grip, he twisted it further before dragging her out of the car as she screamed.
At that moment, a van drove up from the front. Seeing it, José shouted desperately, “Help! Please, save me! My father’s rich—he’s a basketball star! He’ll pay anything you want!”
As if responding to his cries, the van stopped right in front of them. José grew even more frantic, struggling harder. But what happened next felt like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, snapping him awake.
The attacker holding him down said to the van’s driver, “What took you so long? You’re thirty seconds late.”
“Traffic jam. Got held up,” the driver replied.
The passenger in the front seat snapped impatiently, “Cut the bullshit. Get them in the van now.”
José and María were dragged into the van, followed by the attackers dressed as cops. The van spun around and sped off down the road they had come from, quickly disappearing, leaving behind the police motorcycles and the car with two still-warm corpses slumped inside.
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Konpeki Plaza, VIP suite.
Jackie and a middle-aged man of Mexican descent sat on the sofa, clearly waiting for someone. Jackie no longer looked like the street punk he once was. He wore a custom-tailored suit, his hair neatly slicked back in a clean executive style, polished shoes reflecting the overhead lights. Only the thick gold chain around his neck and the heavy gold bracelet on his wrist still hinted at his gang roots.
The man beside him, also in a sharp suit, looked increasingly tense, as though troubled by something.
The suite door opened, and Leo entered with V and Lucy.
Jackie and the man stood up immediately.
“Leo, finally, you’re here.”
“Jackie, this is…?”
Leo gave him a look, prompting Jackie to introduce his companion.
That morning, Jackie had called Leo, saying there was an urgent job that needed to be discussed in person. The meeting place wasn’t Jackie's office or El Coyote Cojo—it was Konpeki Plaza, an Arasaka property. Leo had brought V and Lucy without even having time for breakfast.
“Let me introduce—this is Mr. Dante González. Mr. González, this is the man I told you about—the head of Aurora PMC, Leo.”
Leo shook hands with Dante and they all sat down. Lucy, sitting beside Leo, blinked. Her cyberoptics flashed blue as she scanned and transmitted Dante’s full profile to Leo.
Dante González was no stranger in North America—he was a household name in basketball circles. More than his athletic achievements, people marveled at his meteoric rise from nothing.
He was born in Heywood, Night City, a district plagued by crime and poverty. In Heywood, everyone played basketball, but Dante had always been the best. He was the first to break the stereotype that Heywood kids could only end up in the Valentinos—he escaped poverty through sport.
After nearly two decades dominating the court, Dante retired with a body full of injuries. Post-retirement, he took over a failing tire company on the verge of bankruptcy. His business acumen matched his sports talent—he not only saved the company but expanded its branches throughout California.
“Mr. Leo, I’ll get straight to the point. Padre told me you’re the best person he knows. I need you to solve a very urgent problem.”
“My son went to Tijuana last week with his girlfriend. They were kidnapped by the Salamanca cartel.”
“I want to hire you to bring them back.”
Leo, V, and Lucy exchanged a look.
“The Salamanca cartel?”
Jackie leaned forward to explain. “One of the most powerful cartels in Mexico. Over there, cartel power, influence, and wealth—they all outweigh the government. Compared to them, the government’s just a formality.”
Though Jackie was born in Night City, he still felt connected to his homeland and had kept up with it.
V asked curiously, “Mexico has no law enforcement?”
Night City had the NCPD, and while many thought they were unreliable, for foreign tourists in trouble, they were often the only possible help.
Dante shook his head. “Most law enforcement is bought. Anyone who resists disappears without a trace.”
It sounded worse than NCPD. Lucy followed up, “What about the military?”
Dante shook his head again. “Because they’re professionally trained, they were the first to be corrupted. They were the first to side with the cartels.”
Leo could only think—damn. Even the military?
No wonder Dante seemed so afraid of the Salamanca cartel. Leo had heard rumors before. The cartels controlling Mexico weren’t corporations—they were more like overgrown gangs that had outgrown even corporate power..... at least when it came to determining their cost-to-reward ratio for destroying the cartels. It simply was not worth it.
While Jackie and V chatted with Dante, Leo remained quiet, closely observing him. Though Dante covered it well, Leo could see the underlying anxiety. And it wasn’t just about his son—he was clearly hiding something deeper.
V noticed Leo’s thoughtful expression. “Leo, what is it?”
“I’ve noticed something odd.”
Everyone stopped talking, turning their attention to him.
Jackie leaned in. “You figured something out?”
Dante had arrived in Heywood that morning, unannounced. He showed up at Padre’s door and asked him to find the best merc for the job. Padre told Jackie to call Leo. The original plan was to talk at Jackie’s office, but Dante insisted on meeting in a high-end VIP suite at Konpeki Plaza.
Leo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, fingertips tapping together.
“Tijuana is a major tourist city. Sure, it has other industries, but tourism is huge. If tourists get kidnapped, who would go there anymore? Salamanca cartel doing this would be like killing the golden goose.”
Jackie frowned. Ever since he started learning from Padre, he had begun to understand that gang life wasn’t just about fighting—there was a lot more to it. He instinctively didn’t believe the Salamanca cartel’s leaders were that dumb. But the kidnapping was real—Dante couldn’t be making this up.
He asked cautiously, “Maybe they just didn’t think it through?”
Leo shook his head, serious now. “If they were smart enough to rise to power, they’re not the type to overlook something this big. Let me give you a simple example.”
He pulled out a tablet and opened a map of Night City. “Look here.”
Everyone leaned in. Night City’s districts were distinct—you didn’t need long to identify them.
V spoke up, “Japantown, in Westbrook.”
“Exactly,” Leo nodded. “It’s like a mix of Vegas and Tokyo’s Ginza—every tourist visits there.”
Leo spread his hands. “Can you imagine the Tyger Claws kidnapping tourists for ransom there? Of course not. It would destroy their reputation, kill tourism, and ruin their profits.”
“Even the Tyger Claws aren’t that stupid. People protect their interests. When it’s about money, even the dumbest get smart.”
Jackie’s eyes lit up. “I get it now. Like they say, ‘a rabbit doesn’t shit near its own den.’ Tijuana is Salamanca territory. Foreign tourists spend money there—that’s income for the cartel. They wouldn’t ruin that for a quick ransom.”
Leo snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”
V glanced at Dante’s increasingly tense expression and added, “What if they only target the rich-looking ones? Just a few fat cats—quick money, limited fallout?”
Leo waved it off. “It’s not that simple. Rich people don’t take it lying down. They’ll call media, hire PR, and trash Tijuana’s name. Even if Salamanca runs Mexico, they don’t run the world.”
“Let’s say a European or Asian tourist gets kidnapped. Salamanca can’t send assassins across the ocean to kill the troublemakers there.”
“Even if they don’t retaliate, they won’t come back. And those big spenders? Losing even one hurts. They don’t bargain; they just pay for what they like. Other cities roll out red carpets for these people—and you want to kidnap them?”
“You piss them off, they leave, and the cartel loses more than it gains.”
Dante’s face darkened. Finally, unable to hold back, he interrupted the discussion.
