area51novel Page 17
Page 17
The time has come.
He interrupted Pierce's out-of-control accusations, his voice still steady but carrying a penetrating power: "Pierce, 'King,' or rather, Hawkley, let me give you a message."
There was an instant silence on the other end of the phone.
Fury repeated it clearly, each syllable carrying a cold weight: "He said, 'You're welcome.'"
"..."
Dead silence.
A suffocating silence that lasted for several seconds.
It was as if the person on the other end of the phone line had suddenly disappeared, or their soul had been frozen in an instant by those words.
Even the heavy breathing stopped abruptly.
Immediately afterwards, Fury keenly caught a very slight, almost imperceptible gasp.
Was it extreme shock? Then, Pierce's voice suddenly erupted, more frantic and out of control than any of his previous roars, even carrying a hint of bravado.
"Wh...what?! 'You're welcome'?! What the hell does he mean?! Thank him for what? Thank him for killing the person I was trying to protect?! Nick Fury! Are you fucking messing with me?! You trying to shirk responsibility?! How could that lunatic let you deliver a message to me?! He doesn't even know me!!"
Pierce's voice was like a runaway train, hurtling madly toward the abyss of self-destruction.
His denial was too hasty and his reaction too intense, completely exceeding the scope of anger arising from the heavy losses.
It was a panicked reaction after a corner of a secret had been discovered.
Fury's single eye narrowed into a dangerous slit, and all his doubts coalesced into a cold, sharp edge.
“Alexander,” his voice deepened, carrying an all-knowing, oppressive quality, “your reaction… is quite interesting. Let me guess… that Bates knew some of your secrets? And Hawke happened to know them too? He just killed Bates because of a personal grudge, which conveniently solved this problem for you as well, so he told you there was no need to thank him?”
"...What the hell do you mean?! Nick!" Pierce's voice visibly faltered, followed by an even more frantic roar, but to Fury, a seasoned old fox, the panic he was trying to conceal was already impossible to hide. "It's your incompetence that allowed him to take advantage of the situation! Don't even think about pinning the blame on me! How the hell was I supposed to know what was wrong with that madman?! Why did he say that?! What is he trying to do?!"
Pierce's heart was pounding wildly in his chest, almost bursting out.
Hawke Lane's "You're welcome" struck him like a bolt of lightning, shattering his deepest nightmare—"Thank you"? Thank you for what? Thank you for clearing out Bates, the potential threat that could expose their connection, for Hydra?
Pierce knew that Bates would never reveal any information about Hydra, even if he died, because he had his two precious illegitimate children in his hands. So how did Hawke find out?
How do you explain "You're welcome"?
Could Hawke Lane really know about Hydra?! This thought sent a chill down his spine!
But he absolutely cannot admit it! Not a single trace can be revealed! That old fox Fury has already begun to suspect!
“I don’t know what he was trying to do,” Fury’s voice remained icy, cutting through Pierce’s psychological defenses with the precision of a scalpel. “But I know he did it. And he did it in the most humiliating way possible. As for why he specifically asked me to deliver a message to you… Alexander, perhaps you know the answer to that better than I do.”
"Enough!" Pierce abruptly interrupted, his voice distorted by the force of his words. "Fury! This isn't over!"
Click!
Beep...beep...beep...
The phone was abruptly cut off by Pierce, the shrill dial tone echoing in Fury's empty office.
Fury slowly put down the microphone, his face showing no anger at being threatened, only a cold contemplation and an even more certain skepticism.
Pierce's rage was real, but his panic, his overinterpretation of "you're welcome" and his desperate attempts to distance himself, especially his almost pathetic, hasty hang-up at the end...
All of this points to the same possibility: Alexander Pierce has a deeper, unspeakable secret.
That "You're welcome" was like a key, unlocking the door in Fury's mind that held doubts about Pierce's true stance.
He stared at the blinding sunlight outside the window, a cold glint in his single eye: "Hawk Lane...who exactly are you? What kind of grand scheme are you playing? Pierce...and what shadow are you hiding in?"
He turned and gave a new instruction to Hill, who had been silently listening with an equally grave expression: "Highest priority encrypted instruction, target Alexander Pierce. I need all his travel records, communication records, financial flows, and all potential intersections with any anomalous biological research projects and their associated entities over the past thirty years. Highest privileges, direct access, no approval required."
30. A fierce battle with Professor Emilia [Seeking flowers]
When Hawke pushed open the door to Professor Emilia's office, Emilia was facing away from him, bending down and searching for something at the bottom of the bookshelf.
The dark brown fitted skirt perfectly outlined her mature and voluptuous curves; the bent waist and the raised arc formed a silent invitation in the quiet air.
“I thought you would have come earlier, Hawk.” She didn’t turn around, knowing it was Hawk who had entered, her voice carrying a lazy smile.
"I just saw off two enthusiastic friends." Hawke locked the door behind him with a soft click that was particularly clear in the quiet room.
He walked to the large desk, casually leaned back, and glanced at the complex mathematical model document spread out on the desk—the draft of the dynamic game model he had proposed.
Emilia finally straightened up, holding a bottle of fine vintage red wine and two wine glasses.
She turned around, her face bearing an expression unique to intellectuals, a mixture of scrutiny and allure.
“The offer from Lane Capital is very attractive, Hawke. It far exceeds the platform and…compensation that Columbia can offer me.”
She placed the wine glass on the table, skillfully opened the bottle, and the deep red liquid slid into the glass.
"Does the CEO position mean absolute decision-making power? Including the patriarch and son of the Ryan family?"
“Absolutely.” Hawke took the glass she offered, his fingertips lightly brushing against her skin, sending a subtle electric current through him.
“Lian Capital needs a leader who is truly visionary, decisive, and… knows how to find the optimal solution in complex rules. You are the optimal solution, Professor Emilia.”
“Call me Emilia.” She raised her glass, her eyes gleaming. “For a new career? Or for… the in-depth discussions that are about to begin?”
She glanced meaningfully at the model diagram on the table.
For the next hour or so, the atmosphere subtly oscillated between academic rigor and undercurrents of passion.
The two huddled in front of the model diagram, with Hawke analyzing the evolution of Nash equilibrium in dynamic markets, while Emilia pointed out the potential pitfalls in setting the model parameters using precise terminology.
The pen sketched quickly on the paper, fingers sometimes touching, sometimes pointing together at key points.
The air was filled with the sparks of intellectual exchange and the rich aroma of red wine.
As the discussion deepened, it extended from the model itself to the operational details of Lane Capital and its hostile takeover strategies against several target companies. Emilia seemed to show no restraint in her interest in the term "hostile takeover."
Hawke promised sufficient equity and salary, while Emilia gracefully bargained for a place in the core decision-making circle and an independent executive team.
“Well then, one last question,” Emilia put down her wine glass, walked around the desk, and stood in front of Hawke, so close that they could feel each other’s breath.
Her slender fingers traced the buttons of Hawke's shirt, her eyes unfocused. "Regarding the 'core variable' of this model—its dominant force—can it maintain... um... absolute control in any game?"
Hawke's lips curled into a knowing smile as he suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms.
"That depends on whether the variable is willing to submit to control." Before he finished speaking, he lowered his head and sealed her lips with his.
Academic documents were swept onto the floor.
The model diagrams drifted down amidst the chaos.
The red wine was knocked over during the vigorous movement, and the deep red liquid, like the blood of desire, spread out in a mess on the expensive Persian carpet.
In front of bookshelves piled high with economics classics,
At the edge of the messy desk,
On that large office chair, a symbol of knowledge and authority,
A fierce battle ensued over the question of "domination" versus "obedience."
--------------
In the evening, Hawke appeared in a stylish but highly private club room in Midtown Manhattan.
New York City Mayor Eliot Duncan was already waiting there. The seasoned politician was composed, with a professional smile on his face, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.
“Hawk, I’m glad you were on time.” Mayor Duncan stood up and shook his hand firmly.
"Your father was a regular at this club back in the day, a young and promising man." The words carried an implication of the Ryan family's wealth and influence.
“Uncle Duncan, you flatter me. My father often mentions your boldness back then,” Hawke replied with a smile.
The topic of the meeting was the upcoming annual charity gala in New York City.
Ostensibly a fundraising event for the "Urban Youth Development Fund," it was in reality a stage for political and business elites to consolidate relationships, showcase their power, and exchange benefits.
Hawke, representing the Lane family, was the mayor's top sponsor.
“The preliminary proposal is here,” Mayor Duncan’s assistant handed over the documents. “As a ‘diamond sponsor,’ the Lane Group will have a seat at the head table, the opening remarks, exclusive naming rights… and will have the final veto power over every detail of the banquet. In return, we expect this amount of sponsorship.”
He gave a number that would leave ordinary people speechless.
Hawke glanced at the document, but instead of immediately answering the question about the amount, he skillfully changed the subject:
"The dinner is a large-scale event, and security and the guest list need to be absolutely secure. Especially since Brooklyn seems to be going through some rough times lately?"
Mayor Duncan sighed, picked up his glass, and a genuine worry appeared on his face: "That's the second thing I wanted to talk to you about, Hawke. The crime rate in Brooklyn, especially in the downtown area, has skyrocketed in the last few months. Drugs, violence, gang warfare... it's practically a lawless zone!"
He lowered his voice, his tone a mixture of official helplessness and anger: "Do you know what? That 'King' who used to strike fear into the hearts of those bastards has vanished like a ghost! His silence has given those scumbags like the Hand and the Bigfoot a chance, and they've more than doubled the size of their drug labs! It's blatant provocation! The police... sigh, have had very little effect."
The mayor only mentioned Brooklyn, not Hell's Kitchen, which is even more troublesome than Brooklyn, because it's widely considered beyond redemption...
31. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? [Seeking Flowers]
Hawke picked up the whiskey, and the ice cubes clinked gently in the glass.
Silence?
My dear mayor, I've simply shifted my 'passion' for fighting crime to another battlefield, such as destroying a competitor's stock price or enjoying some quality time on campus.
He certainly wouldn't say it aloud, but simply responded calmly: "It is indeed worrying. But a city cannot rely solely on vigilantes in tight-fitting uniforms to maintain order."
“Absolutely right!” Mayor Duncan exclaimed, as if he had found a kindred spirit. “We need a more systematic and powerful force! For example, increasing police resources and upgrading equipment…” He then shifted his tone, his gaze turning meaningfully to Hawke. “Of course, we also need the strong support of socially responsible companies like Lane Capital. The charity gala is the first step in uniting our forces. Hawke, what do you think of that sponsorship?”
Hawke put down his glass and tapped his fingertips lightly on the document: "The Lane Group is willing to take on social responsibility. This figure is fine."
He readily agreed to the astronomical sum, as if he were simply signing an ordinary check.
This made Mayor Duncan's smile even brighter.
"Good! That's great!" Mayor Duncan personally refilled Hawke's glass, his tone becoming even more intimate. "Hawk, seeing you reminds me of my younger days, full of energy and ambition. It's good for a man to prioritize his career. But..." He spoke with the concern of an elder, even a hint of salesmanship, "Life needs some variety. Look at my Olivia, smart, independent, and opinionated, just like you, an elite from Columbia University. She admires you, you know that. You young people can exchange ideas more... Career and love can go hand in hand, after all."
Hawke smiled slightly, with just the right amount of politeness: "Olivia is exceptionally talented and Uncle Duncan's pride. It's an honor to have her appreciation. However, as you know, my husband is slowly handing over the Lane Group to me, which is a long process. I do need to concentrate intensely, and I'm even accumulating academic credits by donating multimedia classrooms. Personal matters will have to wait." He raised his glass. "I hope the Governor understands."
A barely perceptible hint of disappointment flashed in Duncan's eyes, and he was too ashamed to suggest that his daughter help with the handover of the Lane Group.
His face was quickly masked by a practiced smile: "I understand! Of course I understand! It's a good thing for young people to be ambitious! Well then... I wish the Ryan Group even greater success under your leadership! Happy cooperation!"
"It's a pleasure doing business with you." The two glasses clinked together again, making a crisp sound that echoed in the private room, carrying the lingering notes of power and money.
After saying goodbye to Duncan, it was already late at night.