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"How's it going? Any difficulties with that new batch of goods?" In the restaurant, Josh asked Linden Schneider, who was seated beside him.
Although the agreed time hadn't yet arrived, since both of them worked in offices, they naturally tended to arrive early for meetings or gatherings.
Dix wasn't so fortunate. With the Blackwater Gang's sphere of influence expanding continuously, he was constantly traveling and didn't stay in Chicago long term.
At this point, he was more or less a frequent flyer.
So arriving a little late was perfectly normal.
As for Sheriff Dietrich—no, thanks to Josh, he had now become the District Police Commissioner, equivalent to a precinct chief. With that position, it wasn't appropriate for him to regularly show up in this restaurant, so unless Josh deemed it necessary, he rarely participated in these meetings anymore.
"Most of it isn't a problem, but those industrial machines and jap chickens will take some time," replied Linden Schneider. Although he found it strange that Josh suddenly wanted some jap chickens, he was tactful enough not to ask further, and certainly didn't see it as violating the rules Josh had set for the Blackwater Gang.
Ever since Pearl Harbor, aside from a few Akita dog types or bleeding hearts, no American citizen saw the japs as human. Immigrants from other Asian countries hated them even more. Asians already faced discrimination in the U.S. during this era, and the japs single-handedly pushed that discrimination to its peak.
Not to mention, back in Asia during this time, the japs didn't treat people from other countries like human beings at all. They never repented. Forget Unit 731—even places like Hashima Island were horrific. That Japan, even in the 21st century, had the audacity to try registering it as a World Heritage site showed just how little humanity was in their bones.
So Josh had no psychological burden in extraditing a few japs to Yuri.
"As long as it's not a problem. No need to rush—take your time. Any other good stuff came in?" Josh nodded, then asked.
"There actually is one special batch—some M1897s that were used for military training years ago. Don't know if you're interested, boss," said Linden Schneider.
"Shotguns? That's not interesting." Josh thought of the Winchester M1897 and shook his head. That thing was only useful in trench warfare. With its short range, it wouldn't be of much use in the world of Game of Thrones.
"Ahem, boss—it's not the shotgun. It's artillery. The French Lady!" Linden quickly corrected him.
Josh's eyes immediately lit up when he heard French Lady.
It turned out that Linden was referring to the French Schneider company's M1897 75mm field gun... huh, and the manufacturer was actually Schneider's namesake.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was that this artillery piece had a much more famous nickname to Chinese people: the Second Battalion Commander's Italian Cannon.
Though it was famous and widely used during WWI, the unavoidable truth was that by the later stages of the war, it was already outdated.
After WWI, it became obsolete—either dismantled or sold to Asia.
Only the U.S., still following an isolationist policy pre-WWII, had retained a number of these French Ladies for training purposes.
With America's full industrial mobilization after joining the war, the military had already upgraded to more advanced artillery. These now-outdated French Ladies had lost their place but Josh didn't mind at all.
This type of outdated, lightweight, easy-to-transport artillery with decent firepower was perfect for Daenerys.
Especially now that she had recuperated and landed on Dragonstone, preparing for her full-scale campaign into Westeros—this batch of cannons would be great for sieging cities or blasting White Walkers.
"Now that's good stuff. How many? What about shells?" Josh asked.
"Two hundred in total. As for shells, not that many—on average less than five units per gun, mostly HE and shrapnel rounds," Linden replied.
A U.S. artillery unit defines one unit as 50 shells.
So, about 250 shells per gun.
That kind of quantity wouldn't be much in Europe—maybe enough for a small-scale conflict—but for Daenerys, it was enough to flatten all obstacles in Westeros.
"Sounds good. Contact the seller, negotiate the price, and arrange a warehouse. I'll have people pick them up later," Josh nodded.
Linden, of course, had no objections and wouldn't ask how Josh was planning to transport them.
Both he and Dix knew Josh had a "transportation team" that could appear and disappear without a trace.
A while later, Dix arrived, with Goss beside him—now effectively the Blackwater Gang's number three.
"Sorry boss, I'm late!" As always, Dix greeted Josh respectfully.
Josh appreciated that kind of attitude very much.
"No worries, we just got here early. Sit down. I heard those Italians are getting restless again?" Josh waved his hand and poured him a glass of his favorite Kentucky bourbon from home.
"Yeah, the issue's mainly in New York. A few families brought in some Jewish guys again, and the Irish gangs there are having a hard time breaking through their blockade," Dix said after taking a sip.
"Tsk, Jews again. Hard to get rid of them completely," Josh shook his head. Annoying as they were, you had to admit—they were resilient.
"Fortunately, it's not too big a deal. Their influence is mostly confined to New York State. Other places—Philadelphia, Atlantic City—those Mafia groups are gradually leaning toward us, since they can make more money with us," Dix said with a smile.
"That's good. It's all about making money—not shameful. But keep info security tight. Don't trust them too much. If the day comes when you can't make them money anymore, they'll be the first to take you out," Josh said while nibbling on a cookie Anna had brought.
He wasn't surprised that some regional Italians were gravitating toward Dix.
Just like how, when Italians were suppressing the Irish, many Irish gangs had turned to the Italians. After all, they were all bottom-tier ethnicities, biased against each other but not to the point of extermination. Profit came first.
"By the way, boss—now that Blackwater's influence has expanded, we've got lots of new operations. You interested in any of them?" Dix asked.
"Hmm, didn't I say that already? I'm not interested in gang business. Aside from a few shipments, the profits from your other ventures are all yours," Josh replied.
"Heh, boss—don't turn me down so fast! I'm talking about legit businesses!" Dix chuckled.
"Heh... judging by your sleazy face, how legit can they be?" Josh joked, laughing along with Linden Schneider.
"No, really boss—I mean it." The two-meter-tall man looked a little anxious when Josh didn't believe him.
"Okay, okay—no more jokes. Go ahead, tell me," Josh said, reining it in.
"I've got two Hollywood movie studios, a partial stake in Blue Network, a newspaper, three factories—and I'm planning to get a piece of Las Vegas too," Dix said slowly.
As soon as he finished, he saw Josh and Linden Schneider staring at him with wide eyes.
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