The Charismatic Charlie Wade

To meet Charlie’s expectations promptly, the fifteen prisoners began cleaning everything that could still be moved with
determination. They tossed all the long-neglected bedding into the bathroom, assigning a few to manage the cleaning while the
rest tackled various areas.
Even those who were injured, as long as they could still move, contributed their efforts. Those with broken legs found seats and
wiped the lower halves of the walls, while those with injured hands improvised by stepping on towels and scrubbing the floors.
Thanks to the sizable workforce and the compact space, it didn’t take long for the inmates to transform the room into a spotless
environment.
None of the fifteen prisoners had anticipated that this cell would one day be cleaner than a five-star hotel.
They were well aware that if Charlie found the hygiene even slightly unsatisfactory, they would face physical consequences.
Furthermore, they were acutely aware of the agony that Charlie’s punishment could inflict.
The once-sticky floor now gleamed, requiring caution to prevent slipping. However, the lingering odors of body sweat and
cigarette smoke remained deeply ingrained and challenging to eliminate.
So, Charlie added another rule temporarily, no one was permitted to smoke in the cell or bathroom, or else they would face a
hundred slaps.
Despite their severe addiction to smoking, none of the prisoners dared to voice any objections at this point.
At half-past five in the afternoon, it was dinner time.
The prison guard arrived to take a headcount. Upon seeing the injured Dean, he was particularly startled. He was about to
inquire about the situation when he noticed several other prisoners with severed limbs, intensifying his astonishment.
Observing Charlie, who had just arrived, appearing calm and content without a single scar on his face, the prison guard surmised
that Charlie was responsible for these injuries.
However, he refrained from inquiring further. He understood the rules of Brooklyn Prison better than the prisoners did. The
inmates here did not trouble the guards unless absolutely necessary, and the guards did not interfere in the prisoners’ internal
matters unless compelled.

The hierarchy of priorities in the prison was as follows, first, do not resist, second, do not kill anyone, third, do not attempt to
escape.
In essence, as long as the prisoners did not attack the prison guards, were still within the prison, and remained alive, everything
else was of no concern to the guards.
Currently, none of the injured inmates had requested medical attention, signifying their reluctance to involve the prison. Hence,
the prison guard saw no reason to inquire. He merely counted the prisoners and directed them to form a line to proceed to the
cafeteria.
However, when he noticed John Lawrence’s swollen face resembling a pig’s head, he couldn’t help but express his surprise,
“Father, what happened to you?”
Upon hearing the term “father,” John Lawrence shuddered in fear. He quickly clarified, “I’m not a priest! I have renounced my
priesthood!”
In fact, John Lawrence had welcomed being addressed as a priest by fellow inmates. Despite their criminal pasts, many
prisoners held religious beliefs. Encountering a priest who was also an inmate granted him some favor, even though they were
aware of his tarnished history.
However, John Lawrence recognized that Jagoan harbored a particular disdain for his past as a priest, resulting in him receiving
a hundred slaps daily. The mere thought of it left him despondent.
Thus, he instinctively inquired quietly of the prison guard, “Could you help me switch cells? I’m not comfortable here...”
Upon hearing John Lawrence’s request, everyone, except for Jagoan, looked at him in astonishment.
The rules of Brooklyn Prison stipulated that internal matters were to be resolved internally. Seeking assistance from the prison
guards violated the prison’s code of conduct, and it was bewildering that John Lawrence would make such a request. Did he
believe that seeking the guards’ help would release him from Jagoan’s threats?
The prison guard also found John Lawrence’s request surprising and replied, “Father, switching cells is a straightforward
process. However, prisoners who request cell transfers aren’t typically welcomed in other cells. It has happened before that
prisoners seeking transfers were denied and ultimately returned to their original cells. Which cell would be willing to accept him
after switching? Once he’s beaten again, he’ll have no choice but to return to his initial cell. Therefore, I advise against it.”

John Lawrence, with tears in his eyes, realized that the prison guard’s reasoning was sound. Prisoners here didn’t take kindly to
those who broke the rules, even if they sought cell transfers themselves. Contemplating this, he could only respond with teary
eyes, “I was joking earlier. I won’t request a transfer, even if I’m beaten to death...”
The prison guard patted his shoulder and then addressed everyone, “Everyone, leave the cell and head to the cafeteria.”
With that command, they formed a line and exited the cell, making their way to the cafeteria alongside prisoners from other cells.
While en route, Jagoan kept an eye on the other inmates, hoping to spot Peter Cole among them. However, he did not come
across Peter Cole. Along the way, he observed numerous prisoners headed to the cafeteria, representing a diverse range of
ethnicities and ages. However, approximately half of them were heavily tattooed and muscular, revealing their affiliation with
gangs in Brooklyn Prison.
Additionally, Jagoan noticed that many prisoners bore facial and bodily injuries, some even sporting bandages and crutches,
indicating that they had been subjected to physical abuse. This explained why the prison guard had shown indifference upon
observing several injured individuals in their cell.
The cafeteria in Brooklyn Prison was expansive, accommodating up to one or two thousand prisoners dining simultaneously.
Once the prison guards ushered everyone inside, they promptly retreated behind the iron gate, leaving the prisoners to govern
themselves.
The responsibility for serving meals to the inmates fell upon the prisoners themselves.
While waiting in line for food, Dean informed Jagoan, “Sir, seating during meals here isn’t random. Nearly every area has
designated occupants. Seats by the south-side window are generally reserved for the bosses and their underlings from both
prison areas. We can only sit by the north-side window. Although there’s no sunlight there, the view is decent.”
Jagoan inquired, “Is there a boss from Brooklyn Prison?”
Dean shook his head and replied, “The boss of District One is Gustavo Sanchez. He doesn’t pay much attention to us small-time
gangsters and prohibits us from associating with the boss of District Two as well. So we dare not socialize with other bosses,
otherwise, we’ll have to align with the boss from District Two. After all, he hails from a New York gang, and he’s our senior.”
Curious, Jagoan asked, “Since Gustavo Sanchez doesn’t pay attention to you, why are you not allowed to associate with other
bosses?”

Dean explained, “Gustavo Sanchez has a multitude of enemies. It’s rumored that while building his empire in Mexico, he directly
and indirectly caused the deaths of at least a thousand people, including many government officials. Slavemerous individuals in
Mexico seek vengeance against him. Consequently, he’s highly cautious about his personal safety in prison. Anyone forming a
gang in his district poses a potential threat. Once he identifies someone attempting to form a gang, especially collaborating with
the boss from District Two, he issues a death sentence. This man commands his own armed forces in Mexico, capable of
eliminating an entire family if he feels provoked. We cannot afford to provoke him.”
Jagoan nodded. Just then, Dean’s gaze shifted towards the entrance to District One, and he whispered to Jagoan, “Sanchez is
here!”
Following Dean’s line of sight, Jagoan spotted several dark-skinned Mexicans striding in, forcefully clearing a path through the
crowd. A stout, middle-aged man, standing at around 1.65 meters, emerged expressionless as the group’s leader. Several burly
bodyguards flanked him.
Dean confided in Jagoan, “The people surrounding Sanchez are handpicked experts from his own armed forces, responsible for
his protection.”
Jagoan wasn’t particularly impressed with Sanchez. He had encountered Mexican criminal organizations before. In essence,
they were no different from criminal groups worldwide. They were simply more ruthless and had fewer moral boundaries than
most criminal organizations.
Back in Mexico, Jagoan had dismantled an entire criminal organization. Although these ruthless militants were brutal in their
tactics, their combat capabilities were not exceptionally strong. Their superiority lay mainly in their dominance over ordinary
civilians. However, they were no match for Jagoan and the Dragon Temple.
Jagoan’s current objective in Brooklyn Prison was not to dispense justice or uphold righteousness. He merely sought to locate
Felix Cole from Vintage Deluxe, also known as Peter Cole in his father’s old photographs. He had no interest in the identity of the
prison’s boss.
He turned to Dean, “Is Lucas, the ‘Know-It-All,’ here?”
Dean scanned the area for a while, then pointed to a slim young man not far away and said, “That’s Lucas.”
At that moment, Lucas, who had just entered the cafeteria, was queuing for food, engaging in hushed conversations with fellow
inmates.

Jagoan noted Lucas’ appearance and planned to approach him later for a conversation.
Sanchez and his entourage of over a dozen individuals had already settled by the large south-facing window. Sanchez occupied
a table for six by the window, while the rest formed a semicircle at an adjacent empty table.
Jagoan couldn’t help but be taken aback when he saw the dining cart brought in by several guards and a chef. Despite the cart
being covered by a stainless steel lid, the aroma emanating from it made many prisoners salivate in secret.
The cart was positioned right beside Sanchez. His men immediately uncovered the cart to reveal a selection of exquisite dishes,
including bread, salads, Spanish ham, French escargot soup, and more. Moreover, there was a medium-rare prime steak and a
bottle of Romanée-Conti red wine.
Jagoan was astonished. He hadn’t expected the American prison to be so unabashed in granting privileges. Sanchez’s meal
resembled a three-star Michelin dining experience.
At this point, Sanchez’s men began serving the food in front of him. A young man deftly uncorked the Romanée-Conti red wine
and provided a decanter and wine glass from the dining cart’s upper tier, pouring the wine with precision.
Observing Dean’s longing gaze as he looked at Sanchez’s meal, Jagoan couldn’t help but inquire, “Has Sanchez always been
this extravagant in prison?”
Dean, while watching the meal, lamented, “Since the day Sanchez arrived, he has maintained this lifestyle. He brought a
personal chef from Mexico. A portion of the prison’s kitchen is designated for the chef’s use. He enjoys all three meals prepared
by his chef.”
Dean continued with an envious expression, “Brooklyn Prison is a federal facility, which means there are no conjugal visits.
However, Sanchez has a special privilege. He receives three hours of conjugal visits three times a week. During these visits, it’s
said that his associates outside arrange for a variety of beautiful women for him to enjoy.”
Observing Dean’s envy, Ye Chen asked with a wry smile, “Why are you still envious? Aren’t you gay?”
Dean replied with a somber expression, “Sir... Whenever there’s a chance to be with a woman, I’m not gay... I’ve been forced
into it. But if someone offers me three beautiful women every week, even if you beat me to death, I still won’t be gay...”
Jagoan smiled faintly and chose not to delve further into the matter. Instead, he remained attentive to his surroundings. Although
almost everyone from the first, second, and third wards was present, he had yet to spot Peter Cole among them.

After securing his meal, he opted not to join Dean in a designated area for dining. Instead, he lingered near the rear of the queue
and approached Lucas. He whispered to Lucas, “You’re Lucas, right? I’m Andrew’s friend. He asked me to come and find you.
He said you’d be able to help me out if anything happens.”
Upon hearing Andrew’s name, Lucas hastily pointed to a table in the corner and said, “Brother, wait for me at that table. I’ll be
there soon.”
Jagoan nodded and carried his tray to the secluded table in the corner. In Brooklyn Prison, prisoners enjoyed mingling, so the
corner tables were often empty, leaving Jagoan with some privacy.
A few minutes later, Lucas approached with his meal and sat down across from Jagoan, asking in a hushed tone, “How can I
help you?”
As they continued eating, Jagoan lowered his voice and inquired, “I heard a Chinese American named Peter Cole was
incarcerated here a few months ago. Have you heard anything about him?”
“Peter Cole?” Lucas pondered for a moment and then shook his head. “I’ve never heard of him. I maintain a daily list of new
prisoners and update it regularly, but I haven’t come across that name.”
Jagoan probed further, “Could he be in solitary confinement or held in a specific section of the prison?”
Lucas thought for a moment and replied seriously, “I can’t promise that. Since you were introduced by Andrew, I’ll be upfront with
you. Although Brooklyn Prison appears to be a federal facility, the actual power here lies with the Rothschild family.”
He glanced over at Sanchez, who was leisurely enjoying his steak and wine, and continued, “See that man? Gustavo Sánchez,
the drug lord. He can savor a lavish meal here because he’s not only wealthy and influential, but he also collaborates with the
Rothschild family.”
Jagoan’s eyebrows raised as he observed the spectacle. “Are you saying the Rothschild family has control over this place?”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, Brooklyn Prison might be a federal prison in name, but in reality, it’s the Rothschilds who pull the strings.”