area51novel Page 122
Page 122
Ubelman froze, turned to look at Viktor, and looked terrified.
Victor warned, "Don't worry, she and her two children will be very happy."
Ubelman's retreating figure was flustered and disheveled, a stark contrast to his confident and high-spirited arrival.
Only Victor and his three companions remained in the lounge.
Franky finally couldn't help but chuckle: "Look at that old guy just now, he almost wet his pants."
Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief and stretched his shoulders.
Viktor didn't laugh. He walked to the window and watched as Ubelman's car slunk away down the street.
His expression remained cold and hard, but a faint trace of weariness flashed across his eyes.
Blair walked over to him and whispered, "The price will be high, but this step has to be taken. With his name on our side, many things will be much easier. At least, we'll have some peace and quiet with the higher-ups in the police force for a while."
“He knows too much, but we need him more. Keep an eye on him, Blair, control the amount and flow of donations, feed him well, but don’t let him get too full.”
Viktor paused for a moment, then slowly said, "At the same time, continue to dig up more dirt on him. We need to let him know that cooperation is the only way, and once on this path, there's no turning back."
"Yes, Viktor."
Blair nodded. He understood that the alliance with Ubelman was not the end of the game, but the beginning of another, more complex and dangerous one.
This game, though lacking the ringing of bells in a boxing ring, is even more crucial in terms of life and death.
Victor turned around, put his expensive suit back on, and transformed back into the city hero who had just received an award, but what he said was completely off-topic:
“We need to find some promising young talents within the Chicago government; they need our help. We can’t trust Ubelman too much.”
Only they themselves know the ruthless determination and unfathomable dark power hidden beneath those gleaming suits.
The wind in Chicago is still cold, but it has changed direction.
Chapter 101 Glory Will Not Be Mine Alone!
As night deepened, the lawn outside Victor Lee's apartment was brightly lit and bustling with activity.
The meticulously prepared indoor party venue was already overwhelmed. Two or three hundred prominent figures from Chicago's Chinese community, holding wine glasses, chatted and laughed in small groups. The air was filled with the mixed aromas of barbecue, cigars, and expensive perfumes, accompanied by the faint strains of jazz music, creating a strange yet prosperous scene.
Everyone wore a perfectly appropriate smile, but when their eyes met, there was always a hint of unspoken scrutiny and calculation.
They came here less to attend a party and more to rush to a rally where they had to take a stand—because that congressman had just publicly sided with the wounded young man upstairs.
Frankie, Victor's brother, is now the undisputed boss of a Chinese-American gang and the future head of a security company. He moves through the crowd like a slippery fish.
He was dressed in a well-tailored suit, with a professional and enthusiastic smile on his face, constantly shaking hands and patting people on the shoulder, quietly guiding them to maintain order.
"Mr. Wang, please wait a moment, Victor will be able to see you soon..."
"Chairman Lin, rest assured, issues related to the transportation industry will definitely be a priority..."
He precisely controlled the pace, arranging this spontaneous 'pilgrimage' in an orderly manner.
The offices upstairs were a completely different sight.
The heavy curtains blocked out the noise downstairs, leaving only a desk lamp casting a dim yellow light on the large desk.
Victor Lee slumped into the leather high-backed chair, as if all his strength had been drained away.
His face was still swollen, his chin was restrained by an intricate device, and every breath brought excruciating pain to his ribs. The aftereffects of his fierce battle with Tyson continued to ring in his ears.
The doctor advised him to rest absolutely.
But right now, rest is the greatest luxury – both Ubelman and others deliberately dismantled the structures to show their toughness.
He could see Tyson's unstoppable punches, feel the cracking of bones breaking and the dizziness of losing consciousness when he closed his eyes.
The glory of victory belongs to Tyson, but the painful price he has to swallow alone in this quiet office.
However, what burned him more than the physical trauma was a cold sense of urgency.
A legislator's endorsement is a double-edged sword. It brings unprecedented influence and recognition, but it also pushes him completely into the spotlight, leaving him with no way out.
He must strike while the iron is hot and, before this momentum cools down, unite the scattered Chinese community and tie them to his cause.
A soft knock sounded, and Franky poked his head in.
"Victor, Master Zhao and Master Chen from the Martial Arts Association have arrived."
Master Zhao is from the Bajiquan school, while Master Chen is from another martial arts school. Their arrival reflects the attitude of the martial arts school.
Viktor took a deep breath, his brow furrowed with pain, but he quickly composed himself and tried to keep his voice steady: "Please let them in."
Master Chen is nearly sixty years old, but he is in good spirits, with prominent temples. He wears a traditional short jacket and walks with a steady gait.
He clasped his hands in a salute, his eyes showing a mixture of sympathy for Viktor's injuries and, more importantly, the caution of a man of the martial world.
"Victor, congratulations on becoming famous throughout America! You've brought honor to the Chinese community!"
Master Chen's voice was loud and clear—Master Zhao remained silent.
Viktor nodded slightly, not daring to make any big movements: "Master Chen, you flatter me. I was just lucky. Please have a seat."
His voice, coming through his teeth, sounded somewhat muffled.
After exchanging pleasantries, Master Chen got down to business: "I heard you're going to start a big company and integrate resources? Our martial arts school's disciples, aside from anything else, are certainly skilled and loyal. Many of the kids also need a proper way of life."
Viktor looked at the other person and said slowly and clearly, "TWC Group needs security personnel, and other channels also need reliable manpower. Formal security training, personnel dispatch, and even cooperation to offer self-defense courses for high-end clients. Martial arts schools are valuable resources and talent pools, but we can't manage them with the old methods. We need standardization and professionalization."
Master Chen pondered for a moment: "Standardization...does that mean following the company's rules?"
"This means a larger market, more stable income, and that Chinese Americans should receive wages no lower than those of white Americans."
Viktor leaned forward slightly, a sharp pain in his ribs making him pause. "This means we're no longer street thugs, but licensed, respected professionals. The TWC brand will protect all legitimate businesses."
Their eyes met.
Master Chen is weighing the pros and cons of traditional clan-style control versus modern corporate management.
Finally, he nodded: "Okay! I trust you. My people will discuss the details with Blair and Frankie."
"It's a pleasure working with you, Master Chen and Master Zhao."
Viktor extended his uninjured left hand and shook hands firmly with the two of them.
The first puzzle piece has fallen.
Next up is a representative from the casino and bar, a Mr. He nicknamed "Golden Abacus," whose shrewd eyes gleam with an extreme pursuit of profit.
"Victor, your reputation is now the best advertisement!"
Mr. He spoke with great enthusiasm, "If our casinos and bars could all promote themselves under the TWC name, it wouldn't just attract Chinese customers..."
Victor interrupted him, his voice weak but undeniably cold and hard: "Mr. He, TWC does not directly operate casinos, nor does it endorse any casino directly. These things are handled by entertainment and gaming companies."
Blair threatened from the side: "If you don't want to, we can also set up a unified supply chain company to provide you with alcohol, equipment, and even cleaning services at discounted prices and with guaranteed quality."
Meanwhile, TWC's security department can protect your premises, ensuring no one dares to cause trouble, including certain 'overly enthusiastic' government officials. The condition is that your accounts must be subject to our... 'advice'.
Mr. He's smile froze for a moment: "This... Victor, this commission rate and the level of 'suggestion'..."
"This is much more cost-effective than being extorted piecemeal by various forces or engaging in vicious internal competition in the past."
Viktor leaned back in his chair, weary but with sharp eyes. “Either we make money together, and make it securely and sustainably, or we continue to wallow in the mire, waiting to be dealt with by the next ‘Viktor’ or the government. The choice is yours.”
The room was quiet for a moment, with only Viktor's slightly heavy breathing audible.
Mr. He took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat, and finally nodded with difficulty: "I understand. Let's talk within the framework you suggested."
Similar scenarios keep repeating themselves.
Representatives at farmers' markets worried about monopolies and price suppression, but Victor promised to provide unified logistics, standards, and branding to open up higher-end markets;
Builders are eager to secure more government projects, and Victor hinted that TWC's public relations skills could open doors, but the quality of the construction must be excellent.
Transportation company owners complained about turf wars and cutthroat price competition. Victor proposed consolidating fleets, unifying dispatching, and dividing profit-sharing areas…
Despite the excruciating pain and dizziness, Victor dealt with each visitor.
He sometimes offered enticing prospects, sometimes exerted invisible pressure, sometimes demonstrated the immense power of a legislator's endorsement, and sometimes hinted at the potential risks of non-cooperation.
He accurately grasped everyone's needs and weaknesses, portraying TWC as the only option that could bring both huge benefits and strong protection.
His body was weak, but his will and mind became increasingly sharp during the continuous negotiations.
Frankie would come in from time to time to hand him water or quietly report on the situation downstairs, his eyes filled with admiration and worry.
“Victor, you need to rest…”
"Not yet, you can't control it."
Victor took a breath. "Let the last group in. The ones doing the 'street business'."
The last few people to enter had a distinctly different demeanor from the others. They were dressed modestly, but their eyes were more wary, even carrying a hint of hostility.
They are lenders, manipulators of underground transactions, and controllers of certain gray areas.
The leader was a gaunt man referred to as "the old gentleman," who was taciturn but had a gloomy aura.
The old man cut to the chase, his voice hoarse: "Victor, we know you have a lot of influence now. Even congressmen are speaking up for you. Our business is shady, but highly profitable. Could the TWC brand also provide us with some protection and shelter?"
The atmosphere in the room instantly became heavy.
Viktor stared at the other man, knowing this was the most dangerous and crucial step.
By absorbing them, the shadow side of TWC will gain immense power and control, but it may also be dragged into a quagmire.
Viktor remained silent for nearly a minute, his pain and exhaustion reaching their peak.
He spoke slowly, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between shattered bones:
"TWC is a legitimate company that conducts legal business."
His voice was exceptionally clear: “I don’t care how you operated in the past, but you have to clean up your mess. From now on, all ‘shady’ businesses must gradually shrink. On the surface, usury must stop; businesses that drive people to suicide must stop; and you must never get involved in prostitution, gambling, or drugs.”
The old man's face darkened: "Then what are we still talking about?"
"Let's talk about a way out!"
Viktor suddenly raised his voice, then coughed from the pain. He took a breath and continued, "TWC has businesses in construction, transportation, marketing... that need working capital. They can come to our legitimate microfinance department. The interest rates are within the legal limits."
For those looking for work, there are plenty of legitimate jobs available on construction sites, in trucking fleets, and in markets!
Do your men want to spend their lives hiding in the gutter? Don't they want their children to be able to walk upright in the sunlight? We'll force you to your death too.