North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 582 - 330 Acquaintance, Little Mouse_1

The call was answered by a woman.

After hearing Dean's request, the woman asked him to wait at the entrance; someone would deliver the goods to him.

Dean, bored, found a corner to squat in and observed the people coming and going.

In the United States, second-hand markets were quite popular, and there were many areas like this large marketplace. Some were operated by local notables, while others, due to the nature of the goods traded, had their public order maintained by more powerful gangs.

This market was just like that.

Dean also noticed that the people maintaining order in this market all had Asian faces. They were tall and sturdy, their lower bodies stable as they walked. Their sweeping gazes were sharp, and most carried that hardened look of someone who had seen blood.

These guys have all trained, and it wasn't the kind of routine martial arts for health preservation—they've definitely seen blood!

This piqued Dean's interest in the gang behind this marketplace.

His ability to learn is now freakishly strong, and his physical fitness is superhuman. If it isn't too much trouble, learning a few fighting techniques different from Muay Thai wouldn't be a bad idea.

Time passed, and then suddenly, Dean's eyes narrowed slightly.

He saw an acquaintance walking out from inside the marketplace.

The person was a dark-haired, brown-eyed Asian youth with a stern demeanor, attracting attention with his tall and strong stature and a sharp aura. However, there was something uncoordinated about his walk—he was a cripple.

The crippled youth seemed very familiar with the people in charge of maintaining order in the marketplace. They greeted each other warmly, and after a short exchange, he carried a large bag into the parking lot.

Watching his departing figure, Dean's memories involuntarily drifted back to a few months ago.

At that time, he was heading to a bar with Harry and others when they happened to witness a master using a Mitsubishi Military Spike kill a minor gang leader in front of many people.

The murderer was this crippled youth.

Dean stroked his chin.

If I remember correctly, this fellow killed for a prostitute.

Heh.

Perhaps if I want to get my hands on some authentic Chinese martial arts, I could start with this guy.

Ever since practicing ancient yoga, his body had transformed from utmost rigidity to a blend of hardness and softness. He realized that the martial arts passed down from the past, though no match for bullets, still had their own merits.

If it's a martial art that can preserve one's health, all the better.

He isn't lacking in women or money now, and everything is on track. As long as there are no accidents, in a maximum of two or three years, he could become the behind-the-scenes boss of a promising pharmaceutical conglomerate.

Not living to enjoy the world's pleasures for over a hundred years would be such a waste!

As he was lost in thought, Dean's phone rang.

The caller was an unknown number.

Probably the person delivering the mice has arrived, Dean muttered to himself, then pressed the answer key.

A man's voice with a strange accent came from the other end of the phone. "Your goods have arrived. Where are you?"

A Japanese person?

Hearing the accent, Dean immediately realized that the man on the phone was Japanese. Some of them who hadn't been in the United States very long had odd ways of pronouncing American English words, similar to how most foreigners sound strange speaking Chinese with their peculiar intonations.

Dean gave his location.

In less than a minute, a pickup truck stopped in front of him.

The door opened, and a refined-looking middle-aged man, about 1.8 meters tall and quite thin, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, emerged from the vehicle.

The middle-aged man glanced at Dean, a warm smile on his face. "Buyer?"

Dean nodded. "Where are the mice I ordered?"

"They're in the truck. The goods you specified have very high requirements; they're all specially bred varieties with low yields. These little guys are quite delicate..."

As he spoke, the man pulled back the heavy tarpaulin at the back of the pickup, revealing a large transparent glass box inside.

Inside the box were about ten small white mice, a size larger than regular mice, munching on food. Around them were other boxes connected to unknown devices at the bottom, looking somewhat like makeshift thermostatic equipment.

"These are samples, all secretly taken from the lab. Two hundred US dollars each, non-negotiable."

The middle-aged man, smiling, introduced them to Dean.

Upon hearing this, Dean was somewhat surprised.

Holz from the Forensic Science Division sometimes talked about these things.

Specialty-bred premium experimental mice generally cost between eight and twenty US dollars, depending on the channel, and that's for premium ones. If they were average, the market price would be just a few US dollars.

Yet this guy was asking for two hundred US dollars apiece; even for illicit goods, that seemed expensive.

Dean was wealthy, but he wasn't foolish.

The acquisition of Niel's pharmaceutical company was nearing a conclusion. Although Ross, the tycoon, was providing funding, it wasn't conceivable for Dean not to contribute at all.

Who knows how many mice Little Mike will burn through.

So, Dean began his first bargaining attempt in his second life. "Can we get a discount if we order in large quantities?"

The Japanese man decisively shook his head, saying with certainty, "The more you want, the higher the price. And we can only supply up to a thousand of this variety and quality of experimental mice each month."

Huh? No discount, and you're actually raising the price?!

As soon as Dean spoke, the middle-aged man realized he was dealing with a novice and continued to explain, "Buddy, you should know that what you're asking for is specially supplied contraband. The more we provide, the greater the risk, which is why the price is so high."

At that, Dean gave up on haggling.

He pretended to reach into his backpack, then took out two large bundles of US dollars from Subspace and handed them to the middle-aged man. "They're all in twenty-dollar denominations, one thousand US dollars per bundle."

The middle-aged man took the money, pocketed it without a glance, and asked enthusiastically, "Do you want to deliver the goods yourself, or shall I bring them to you now?"

Two thousand US dollars was nothing to him; what he truly valued was the potential for a steady stream of future income. This kind of specialized experimental mouse didn't have many buyers, and now that he had found one, he had to hold on tight.

"Leave them here; I'll handle it myself."

Dean, realizing the subsequent investment would not be insignificant, felt somewhat disheartened.

He had thought he had enough money.

But now, a single research expense from Little Mike could cost tens or even hundreds of thousands of US dollars, and this might just be a minor preliminary investment.

Thinking about the various expensive instruments to come, some of which might not even be purchasable, Dean started to feel overwhelmed.

It seemed he'd have to urge his wife, Niel, to speed things up when he got back.

The truck the middle-aged man had driven had a mechanical slide at the back. He used it to easily and smoothly lower the box of experimental mice to the ground.

He took out a business card and handed it to Dean. "If you're sure you want to buy these experimental mice in the future, just call this number. Your previous contact information was one-time use. By the way, my name is Matsushita Taro, and I look forward to our next deal."

After speaking, Matsushita Taro nodded to Dean and drove away.

Dean stood there, looking down at the business card in his hand.

The card was ordinary, with nothing but a string of telephone numbers on it.

However, after receiving the card, Dean's keen sense of smell detected a very faint scent of disinfectant from it.

He suspected that the owner of the card might be someone from a biological research institute.

Taking into account Matsushita Taro's remarks about the mice's uniqueness and the exorbitant price, Dean tore up the card in his hand, puzzled. What exactly does Little Mike plan to do with these high-end experimental mice?