The next ten days passed uneventfully.
Luca focused on only one thing: partnering with Abram to launch the gasoline tax scheme.
Mariggio had already secured the license and all the required procedures—reportedly at the cost of a large amount of money and quite a few personal favors.
On paper, everything looked completely legal and legitimate. Outsiders wouldn't be able to find anything suspicious.
A man named Jordan opened a gasoline wholesale company.
Abram's men handled the dirty work—taking the blame, hiding behind layers of shell companies, and always prepared to "return to Siberia to eat popsicles" if things went wrong.
The gasoline tax operation officially began.
---
The core of the scheme was simple: loopholes in the federal tax system.
Previously, individual gas stations had to pay taxes themselves. That system was cumbersome.
Later, after a reform, the responsibility for tax collection shifted to upstream wholesale companies.
There were two main taxes involved:
Value-added tax on wholesale and retail transactions.
The gasoline tax paid by consumers when they refueled.
For example:
A wholesaler might purchase gasoline for $0.50 per gallon, then sell it to gas stations at a price slightly below the market average.
The wholesaler's gross profit technically included taxes.
After paying those taxes, the remaining profit would normally be minimal.
But if the wholesaler simply did not pay the taxes, the profit margin suddenly became extremely large.
By the time the IRS attempted to collect those taxes—often months later—the Russian operators would simply shut down the company, declare bankruptcy, and dissolve the supply chain.
The scheme involved layer upon layer of shell companies.
Each transaction passed through multiple intermediaries who stamped documents and concealed tax records.
Eventually, it became almost impossible to determine which company had actually issued the final paperwork.
And the most important detail?
All the shell companies were registered overseas.
None of them paid taxes.
All the money vanished.
Trying to track it down was like chasing smoke.
If the Russians were guilty?
Then go find them in Siberia.
What did that have to do with the Dove of Peace?
In the original timeline, the mastermind behind a similar scheme—Michael "Mike" Franzese—had eventually been arrested.
The primary reason was betrayal.
A secondary reason was that the federal government had planted a large number of undercover agents who gathered evidence.
Luca had carefully studied that history.
As an assassin, he naturally understood how to avoid such mistakes.
He would hide even deeper.
Behind every action would be layer upon layer of protection.
Gloves on top of gloves.
And as for traitors?
Luca had plenty of experience dealing with them.
The federal government would never find a single living informant willing to stand in court and point at the Dove of Peace, accusing him of guilt.
---
"Brian!"
Outside a gas station, Nancy stood beside a self-service pump and looked surprised.
"Look! The gasoline here is so cheap! It's only $1.20 per gallon—that's five cents cheaper than other places!"
Brian glanced at the price display.
His jaw practically dropped.
"It went down again? Last time I came here it was $1.26!"
"Now it's almost the same price as Los Angeles!"
Both of them were shocked.
New York's gas prices were among the highest in the country and usually climbed every year.
Seeing prices drop was almost unheard of.
Nancy walked over to a nearby gas station employee.
"If your prices stay this cheap, I'll come all the way here just to fill up."
The employee grinned.
"Beautiful lady, trust me—it'll only get cheaper."
"You're always welcome here. Our station will always have the lowest prices."
"Really?" Nancy asked curiously.
"I haven't seen any other stations lowering their prices."
The employee shrugged.
"People only buy cheaper products."
"If we lower prices, the others will have to follow if they want to keep their customers."
"Just like you—what customer wants to waste money buying more expensive gasoline?"
Brian stepped forward.
"Dude, you said it yourself—this place has the cheapest gas around."
"I'll be filling up here from now on."
The employee laughed awkwardly.
"I'm just repeating what my boss told me."
After serving a few more customers, the employee sighed tiredly.
In the past few days, ever since the gas station lowered its prices, business had skyrocketed.
He had become far busier than before.
Fortunately, the overtime pay was also higher.
The owner had even mentioned that the chain's other gas stations would soon lower their prices as well.
A difference of only a few cents could attract a huge number of customers.
Suddenly the boss stormed out of his office.
"Walker!"
"I've got a task for you."
"Go check the prices at every gas station nearby and report back immediately."
"Understood?"
"I absolutely will not allow anyone to sell gasoline cheaper than me!"
"Yes, boss!"
Walker ran off.
The boss returned to his office and reviewed the sales reports.
Then he calculated the profits for the past few days.
---
A few days earlier, the gas station had switched wholesalers.
The new supplier sold gasoline ten cents cheaper than the market price.
Ten cents!
Even after lowering their retail price by five cents, the station still earned five extra cents per gallon.
That alone could increase weekly profits by tens of thousands of dollars.
The boss scratched his head.
"Has that company gone insane?"
"How can they possibly make money selling this cheap?"
After paying taxes, there would be almost no profit left.
The current market price already reflected the standard profit margins.
Any sudden price drop would inevitably harm someone's interests.
Who on earth was willing to take that loss?
But no matter what, the boss had never seen a gasoline wholesaler this generous.
It was practically giving away free money.
America needed philanthropists like that!
---
After leaving the gas station, Brian drove his repaired green Lancer to Manhattan.
He picked up Mathilda from school, then the two of them headed to the SSR Club.
The moment they entered the building, Brian saw Jimmy walking toward the elevator carrying a black bag.
Brian's expression immediately became serious.
This man was the Dove of Peace's most trusted henchman.
And he often did mysterious things behind the scenes with Luca.
Brian had tried many times to uncover evidence.
But the Dove of Peace never took him along.
Brian had even attempted to install listening devices in the club.
Unfortunately, the casino staff inspected the building daily using professional equipment.
Every corner was checked.
Nothing escaped their scans.
For an amateur spy, Brian's main talents were:
street racing
joining gangs
flirting with girls
Espionage?
That was clearly outside his skill set.
And the better the Dove treated him, the worse Brian's guilt became.
The man trusted him so much he even asked him to pick up Mathilda from school.
"Yellow Hair."
Mathilda's voice snapped Brian back to reality.
Brian rolled his eyes.
"Don't call me that."
"I have a name."
"If you really can't remember it, just call me 'bro.'"
Mathilda replied seriously:
"Luca is my brother."
"He calls you Yellow Hair in private."
"..."
"Stop standing there."
"Come on. Let's go to the bar."
"You need to help me with my homework."
"And after that I want to watch Transformers."
"..."
Brian suddenly felt that life was extremely difficult.
No way.
Tonight he definitely needed to drive a few laps around the Bronx.
That idiot Iosef Tarasov was still in the hospital.
Right now nobody dared to race with him.
---
Meanwhile inside the club.
"Dove of Peace—here's eight."
Jimmy placed a bag of money on the table.
"Four days!"
"In just four days we've made this much money."
"Even after the Russians took their share, we still have this much left!"
"This business is insanely profitable!"
Luca remained calm.
"This is nothing."
"How are negotiations with the other gas stations going?"
Jimmy reported the situation.
Talks were still ongoing but nearing completion.
At the moment the wholesale company only supplied a limited number of gas stations.
But once more stations joined the network, profits would skyrocket.
Earning millions per week would soon become routine.
Later they could even purchase or open their own gas stations.
And once they controlled the ports, they could import cheap Russian oil.
From refinery to retail pump.
A fully integrated supply chain.
The profits would be astronomical.
Luca made money.
Gas stations made money.
Consumers got cheaper gasoline.
"Family," Luca joked, "I've successfully lowered gas prices in New York."
Everyone wins.
A world where nobody loses.
Even the federal government wasn't truly losing.
A little less tax revenue in exchange for a peaceful and prosperous New York.
Luca coughed lightly.
"Jimmy, be careful."
"If the gas stations cooperating with us lower their prices too aggressively, conflicts with other stations may arise."
"Handle those situations quickly."
Jimmy smiled.
"Understood."
The Mafia—and especially the Dove of Peace—were very good at resolving such problems.
---
After Jimmy left, the office door opened silently.
Leon stepped out from the shadows.
"Pauli met with John Gotti."
"I see."
Luca tapped the table thoughtfully.
Pauli still hadn't given up.
Backed into a corner and unable to find allies within the family, he had started seeking help outside.
Meanwhile John Gotti, another drug dealer, had a direct conflict of interest with White Tiger.
Gotti also possessed an elite team of assassins.
The rumor that they could locate and kill someone within thirty seconds might be exaggerated—but it still demonstrated the strength of his organization.
Pauli was trying to borrow someone else's knife.
Luca smiled faintly.
The more fiercely they fought each other…
The greater the reward for defending peace.
"Leon."
"Keep watching them."
"Report immediately if anything happens."
---
One week later Jimmy brought $390.000.
Another week passed.
Jimmy brought $960.000.
While drug dealers were still fighting for territory on the streets, Luca had already grown too lazy to count his money.
He simply tossed the bags to Jimmy to handle.
Until late September.
While Luca was drinking with John Wick in the club, Jimmy suddenly called.
"Dove! There's trouble at the gas station!"
"Our driver got beaten up!"
Jimmy quickly explained the situation.
The price cuts had stolen customers from nearby gas stations.
The neighboring station owners were furious.
Their wholesale prices were higher, so they couldn't compete in a price war.
They could only watch their business disappear.
The conflict escalated day by day.
Finally someone snapped.
When the tanker truck arrived today, the driver was surrounded immediately after unloading the gasoline.
"Stop their men!"
"Don't let any of them leave!"
Luca replied calmly.
"Wait for me."
This was a problem Luca had already anticipated.
Everything about the business was technically legal—except the unpaid taxes.
There was no visible Mafia involvement.
Most people didn't even know the Mafia and Russians were behind it.
Even the tanker drivers believed they were working for a normal gasoline company.
It was time for the Dove of Peace to step in again.
After hanging up, Luca looked at John.
"I've run into a little trouble."
"Want to take a look?"
"It involves our business."
John remembered Viggo's instructions to cooperate with Luca.
He nodded.
"Okay."
On the way there, John hesitated before asking:
"I heard Helen went on a business trip to shoot promotional material for your club."
"Oh, that's right."
"Helen is a very dedicated photographer."
"Our advertising campaign owes a lot to the photos she took."
Luca smiled slightly.
"John, you came to see me today because of that, right?"
"Sorry. You two just started dating and she had to travel for work."
"She called me," John said quietly.
"The job is going well."
He glanced at Luca.
"I just want to know… roughly when she'll return."
Luca laughed.
"Man, you're completely in love."
"Don't you wonder why she had to travel to film the club's commercial?"
"She should be back soon."
"Helen manages her own schedule."
"She'll return when she feels ready."
"Let's just wish her good luck with the shoot."
"All the best."
John replied dryly.
But Luca still noticed the faint expectation in his eyes.
---
Soon they arrived at a gas station in the Bronx.
The place was chaotic.
Several uniformed staff members had bruised faces.
The tanker truck driver sat on the roadside steps, smoking gloomily.
Jimmy was questioning the crowd about the attackers.
But the results weren't promising.
The culprits had already fled.
Luca asked calmly,
"Do you know who did it?"
Before Jimmy could answer, a disheveled employee raised his hand.
"I know!"
Then he rattled off a long list of names.
Most were workers from nearby gas stations.
Some belonged to small local gangs.
Jimmy added,
"Yes. I know their boss."
"These stations have long-term contracts with their wholesalers."
"Their relationships have been built for years."
"They won't easily cooperate with others."
Luca smiled lightly.
"I was looking for a reason to deal with them."
"Now they've given me one."
"And I'll give them an irresistible reason to cooperate."
He turned and left with his men.
The gas station employees stared at each other in confusion.
"Was that Luca just now?"
"The Dove of Peace?"
"I'm not mistaken, right?"
"Is that tanker driver really one of his men?"
Walker wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"That's him."
"I've seen him before—from a distance."
He nodded firmly.
"Those bastards dared to break the Dove's rules."
"They're going to pay for it."
================================================================================
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