The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943
Chapter 34 : The Big Deal

Chapter 34: Chapter 34 : The Big Deal

He hadn’t been idle since returning. He’d been busy—renting warehouse space, reestablishing contact with the Razor Gang. But this time, it wasn’t John he met with. It was Tommy, the head of the gang himself—a hard-looking Brit in his forties. The meeting spot? Still the same old pub.

"I heard from John this deal’s not the same as last time?"

"That’s right," Pierre said bluntly. "The quantity is a lot larger. I’m not sure your people can handle it."

Tommy gave a confident snort.

"No matter how much you’ve got, I can handle it. What do you need—cars, tires, or... U.S. dollars?"

Tommy’s confidence came from one source: American dollars.

His brothels were the Razor Gang’s most profitable business. And ever since the U.S. bomber crews had been stationed nearby, he had opened brothels right next to their bases.

American soldiers were big spenders—and they paid in dollars.

Over the past few years, Tommy had raked in a mountain of U.S. currency.

And dollars could be spent anywhere in the world—at least for now.

"200,000 pounds of coffee beans," Pierre said calmly.

"I’m adding that on top of the original deal."

"Too little," Tommy said immediately.

"What?"

"I’ve got two million pounds of coffee beans."

"WHAT?!"

Tommy sprang to his feet.

"Is that for real?"

"Of course," Pierre said.

"And there’s a shipment of raw sugar and cigarettes too."

What could he say—being a Level 3 user came with its perks.

Even if his space had only tripled, it was still enough to store thousands of tons of goods.

The real question was: could they handle it?

"I’m just not sure you can take it all," Pierre said coolly.

Tommy fell silent.

Two million pounds—ten times what they originally discussed.

What had been a £400,000 deal had suddenly ballooned into a £4 million transaction.

Not just London—no one in all of Britain could cough up that kind of money.

Gold?

Don’t make him laugh.

As Tommy sat in stunned silence, Pierre just smiled, took a sip of his whisky, and waited.

In truth, coffee was the real moneymaker—not sugar.

Whether it was Cuba or Colombia, prices for surplus coffee beans had dropped to a third of what they were before the war. Why?

Because there was no shipping available.

Those countries had once relied on British and American merchant fleets to export their goods.

But now those same ships were all prioritizing military transport.

Luxury goods like coffee didn’t stand a chance.

So prices at the source collapsed— But in Britain, coffee prices remained high.

The Brits loved their tea, sure, but there were plenty who drank coffee too.

Finally, Tommy spoke.

"Two million pounds... There’s no way anyone in Britain can take all that. If we flood the market, the price will collapse.

"And with a deal this size, we definitely can’t pay the old rate."

"Fair enough," Pierre nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

Tommy stared hard at the Chinese man across from him.

He didn’t know how Pierre had gotten his hands on two million pounds of coffee, but he knew one thing for sure: this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

If handled right, this deal could make him filthy rich— and maybe even clean up the Razor Gang’s image for good.

"So here’s what I propose," Tommy said carefully.

"I’ll buy the entire shipment at £2 per pound. But right now, I can only make a down payment of £500,000.

"If you’re interested in cars, I can throw in 600 brand-new German luxury vehicles, valued at £600,000, to cover that down payment.

"After that, I’ll pay you £300,000 per month until the full amount is settled—within a year."

Then Tommy looked at Pierre, hopeful. Pierre didn’t respond immediately. He calmly opened his gold cigarette case, pulled out a Lucky Strike, and lit it slowly.

He wasn’t thinking—he was performing.

The truth was, he was done hauling goods by hand like a human pack mule. He was too big for that now.

Before leaving the U.S., he had bought up all the coffee beans Gambino had been stuck with—thousands of tons of them.

Gambino had tried to smuggle the beans from Cuba by boat, hoping to sell them high. But then the U.S. lifted coffee rationing—and prices collapsed.

The goods were stuck.

So Gambino asked Pierre to take them off his hands. Helping a friend while making millions? Of course he agreed.

The only problem was—no one in the UK could afford to take it all at once.

Unless... he staggered it.

Sell through a few exclusive agents, let them handle retail.

Get paid monthly.

Why move it all in one go?

If the British government found that much coffee in one place, they’d confiscate it.

No money, heavy fines. Maybe even prison.

Finally, Pierre spoke:

"U.S. dollars."

Tommy blinked.

"In that £300,000 monthly payment—half of it must be in dollars."

Tommy agreed without hesitation.

"Done."

Then he lifted his glass.

"Mr. Pierre, you never fail to surprise us."

"Let’s drink to our partnership."

"Cheers."

Their glasses clinked gently, echoing through the room.

Everyone was pleased.

But their celebration didn’t last long.

Suddenly, a screeching air raid siren shattered the calm.

"Quick—down to the basement!"

The group ran for shelter.

Within minutes, the basement was packed with people.

Soon after, the booming of bombs could be heard above.

The explosions came closer and closer, Until even the basement ceiling began to tremble, Dust falling with every blast.

Looking around at the aging underground shelter,

Pierre found himself a little concerned.

Could this place hold up? What if I get buried alive here...?

"This damned country," he muttered.

"Can’t stay here another day.

If I stick around too long, I might end up dying for the British."

As it turned out, even a rundown basement could withstand a bombing— as long as the bomb didn’t fall directly on top of it.

When the all-clear sirens finally sounded, Pierre stepped out into the street.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.