Chapter 49: The Setup
"One hundred."
"Cool!"
Listening to the prompt from the Counterfeit Detector, a large man excitedly rubbed his hands. As he grew excited, the flabby flesh on his face seemed to tremble slightly.
He had brought the Counterfeit Detector himself. Although it was just a common Class C detector available on the market, the fact that these Super US Dollars could fool these Class C detectors meant they could circulate freely on the market.
He knew exactly what this represented. If they could master this technology themselves, it would mean they could print money endlessly.
Thinking this, his gaze swept over the Seller and the Manpower they brought with a hint of ill intent.
When his gaze fell upon Kane, Kane's icy eyes were also watching him.
Kane placed his hand on the handgun at his waist. Behind him, a group of fully armed Soldiers also revealed their gleaming weapons.
"Not easy to mess with!"
The Buyer looked at the cold eyes beneath Kane's Face Mask. He was too familiar with that kind of gaze; it was the look only top-tier Mercenaries possessed.
The Bullseye who used to follow his own Boss had that same look, regarding him as if he were a dead man, which always made him uncomfortable.
But that annoying guy was already dead. Thinking of this, the large man's eyelids blinked rapidly a few times like a reptile's.
"Good stuff. As we agreed before, we'll take all two billion Super US Dollars. One hundred million!"
He couldn't swallow it all. The Buyer weighed the strength of both sides and felt that the Manpower he brought couldn't handle the other party. He decisively switched to a normal business transaction.
"One hundred fifty million!"
Kane heard the large man's offer, shook his head, and held up his fingers, showing a one and a five.
"Our goods aren't hard to sell. One hundred fifty million. You have enough Channels to circulate these Super US Dollars as legitimate currency, a profit of over ten times!"
The large man blinked. As a Gang Leader under Kingpin, his mind was naturally not simple.
He knew Kane was right. With Kingpin's Underground Kingdom, a few hundred million Super US Dollars could be laundered clean after just a few turnovers.
But in business, who would dislike earning less?
"One hundred twenty million. Laundering money also has costs, and too much Counterfeit Money easily attracts the FBI's attention. You've saved yourselves the trouble; we need to bear this part of the risk. One hundred twenty million at most!"
Kane glanced at him and nodded.
"This is a Swiss Bank Account. Deposit one hundred twenty million into this Account, and you can take these US Dollars away!"
Kane handed the large man a slip of paper with a bank Account number on it.
As Kane clapped his hands, two Soldiers pulled back the Tarpaulin covering the Truck and opened the rear door.
It was a common freight Truck in the Federation, somewhat resembling a transforming version of Optimus Prime, pulling a container-like carriage.
After the two Soldiers opened the door, the large man and the Gunmen he led all drew a sharp breath.
Two billion US Dollars completely filled the Truck's carriage. The dark green Cash lay quietly in the carriage. Even the large man couldn't help but swallow.
Even though his Boss was the infamous Crime Boss, he lacked nothing in terms of women, houses, or money.
But he had never seen so much Cash piled together. The visual impact was simply too shocking.
He even doubted if his own Boss had ever seen so much Cash piled up like a mountain, even if it was Super US Dollars.
"Wait a moment!"
The large man gestured to Kane, walked aside, and dialed Kingpin's phone number.
"Hello, Boss, I've seen the goods. Yes, Class C Counterfeit Detectors can't identify them. 120 million. Okay! I understand!"
The large man sent the Account details via Mobile Phone.
Five minutes later, Kane's phone rang. Kane answered the call and quickly hung up.
"Then, it's been a pleasant cooperation. This Truck is a gift to you!"
Kane confirmed the money had arrived from the finance department's call. Without further delay, he led his men to withdraw in an orderly fashion.
It wasn't until Kane and the others' vehicles drove far away that the large man's feeling of being watched disappeared.
Sniper, the large man looked at the high ground outside the Farm, a hint of shock and anger in his eyes.
...
A Martial Arts School in New York's Chinatown.
The small courtyard was paved with bluestone slabs. Tang Song wore a full protective suit and a face mask, holding a bamboo sword, his footsteps light.
His opponent wore a fully enclosed helmet. His face was hidden beneath the helmet, and he held a bamboo sword in his hand.
However, it was clear that as Mr. Tang's opponent, even fully armed, he wasn't having an easy time.
Whoosh! Tang Song gripped the bamboo sword with both hands and delivered a diagonal slash. The blade wind howled, cutting straight towards Frank's neck.
The attack was ruthless, showing no hint of friendly sparring.
The Helmeted man dodged, his bamboo sword sweeping upwards to parry Tang Song's fierce bamboo sword.
Crack! The immense force nearly caused the two expensive bamboo swords to fall apart.
The Helmeted man's hands trembled. He drew his sword, and the bamboo sword darted out like a venomous snake, striking towards Tang Song's chest.
With such force and speed, even an ordinary bamboo sword could break stone, shatter wood, pierce gold, and penetrate iron.
Tang Song used Waist and Horse as One, drew his sword back, cut horizontally, and slashed downwards. His movements were as fast as lightning. As Tang Song swung his sword,
With a crack, the bamboo sword in the Helmeted man's hand broke into two pieces.
Tang Song placed the bamboo sword horizontally against the Helmeted man's neck, then slightly shook it and patted his helmet.
He casually put the bamboo sword aside, took off his protective face mask, picked up a towel from a nearby rack, and wiped his hands.
"Boss, Kingpin took the goods!"
Kane, dressed in a black Suit, walked into the training ground, approached Tang Song, and reported the situation.
"Keep a close eye on them. See when they start distributing the goods and mix our goods into their Channels!"
A glint flashed in Tang Song's eyes. As long as the fish were willing to bite the bait, it was good.
Two billion Super US Dollars. If Tang Song distributed them himself, he could make a profit of 400 million. The reason he sold them to Kingpin for 120 million was precisely because he wanted Kingpin to distribute the goods.
He was preparing a big gift for Kingpin.
"Remember, all 3 billion of our US Dollars must be distributed through Kingpin's network!" Tang Song pondered for a moment. "Tomorrow, Lane and I will go to Italy. You and Frank will be responsible for things here in New York!"
"Understood, Boss!" Kane took a deep look at the Helmeted man standing nearby. After Tang Song briefly explained some matters in New York, he turned and left the Martial Arts School.
"I can tell, Mr. Tang is someone who always gets revenge."
The Helmeted man didn't speak until Kane had left the Martial Arts School.
Tang Song chuckled, "That's just how I am. I don't like being taken advantage of!"
Before his words finished, Tang Song waved his hand back, and a white light flashed from his fingertip.
With a crack.
The Helmeted man's helmet was instantly split in two and fell to the ground.
Behind the mask was an old face. His dark skin had slightly mottled whiskers, and his eyes held wisdom, making him look like an elderly scholar.
"Kingpin wants to kill me, so he will die. Now, give me a reason not to kill you, Sloan!"
Tang Song's eyes held undisguised killing intent. The surrounding air seemed to freeze. A mark, as if cut by a blade, extended from Tang Song's feet all the way to Sloan's feet.
Looking at the mark left on the bluestone floor beneath his feet, Sloan's hand trembled slightly. He calmed his mind. "Mr. Tang, if you wanted to kill me, I wouldn't be here!"
Tang Song raised his eyes, signaling Sloan to continue.
"Mr. Tang, the assassination attempt last time was our fault. We are willing to show our sincerity!" "Sincerity?" Tang Song looked at Sloan and shook his finger. "I don't need any sincerity. I'll give you one chance. One month to kill Kingpin. Otherwise, the Brotherhood of Assassins will belong to the Tang family!"
Sloan's expression froze. His hand subconsciously moved into his sleeve, where an old-fashioned Colt handgun was hidden.
...
Would the influx of five billion Super US Dollars into the Market cause significant damage?
As a superpower in the Marvel World, the Federation prints trillions of US Dollars annually.
The amount of five billion Super US Dollars entering the Market is insignificant to the entire Federation. However, the problem is that these Super US Dollars are indistinguishable from the real thing.
Not only can ordinary convenience stores, supermarkets, and car washes' Counterfeit Detectors not distinguish between genuine and fake, but even small banks' Counterfeit Detectors sometimes fail to identify them.
This has a huge impact.
As everyone knows, the issuance of Federal US Dollars is done by the Federal Reserve Board.
Its printing comes from the Bureau of the Mint. The complex procedures and anti-counterfeiting marks make it extremely difficult to counterfeit.
But once someone successfully counterfeits it, they are essentially stealing money from the Federation.
As a superpower, the US Dollar is not only the legal currency of the Federation but is also universally accepted internationally. If these indistinguishable Super US Dollars are not stopped, the consequence will be a slow bleeding of the Federation. The FBI is one of the world's most famous and important intelligence agencies of the Federation, subordinate to the Department of Justice.
The FBI's mission is to investigate criminals who violate federal law, uphold the law, protect the Federation, investigate foreign intelligence and terrorist activity, and enforce leadership and law.
Simply put, the FBI operates domestically, while the corresponding CIA conducts intelligence operations in other countries.
And now, both FBI Police Officers and CIA Agents are busy like donkeys being whipped, working non-stop.
The cause of the matter is simple: the Federal Reserve has successively received many highly sophisticated counterfeit US Dollars.
As the central bank of the Federation, yet independent of the Federal Government, it is clear how powerful the forces hidden behind the Federal Reserve are.
Now that someone is snatching food from their bowl, the Chairman of the Federal Reserve's call went directly to the President's office.
Needless to say, pressure was applied layer by layer, and the matter was quickly pushed down to the FBI. Originally, the CIA had nothing to do with it, but during their investigation, FBI Agents discovered traces of Super US Dollars overseas, in Europe, and the Middle East.
The FBI's Boss deflected the trouble, making a call that directly involved the CIA as well.
The source of the overseas Super US Dollars is the responsibility of the CIA, while within the Federation, it is the responsibility of the FBI.
As the Federation's largest intelligence agency, it didn't take them many days to lock onto the source of the Super US Dollars.
Kingpin, the Underground Emperor of New York, or rather, the Crime Boss of the Federation. Many Super US Dollars were flowing out from his industries.
For a time, the FBI Agents responsible for the investigation were stumped. Unless they were fresh recruits, no one wanted to provoke Kingpin.
Wilson Grant Fisk's files are stored in a dedicated room at FBI headquarters.
It lists his various evil deeds: kidnapping, extortion, smuggling, drug trafficking...
With a room full of criminal files, the FBI still had no way to deal with Kingpin. This Crime Boss didn't mind taking on the charge of manufacturing Counterfeit Money.
"Organized crime can now be run like a Business... The Chairman and the Board of Directors will be - Kingpin!" This is Kingpin's classic quote.
Two successive FBI Directors had attempted to take action against this arrogant man, but each targeted operation only resulted in the capture of a bunch of henchmen.
As for Kingpin, his cunning nature, vast legal team, and complex network of connections behind him made it impossible for the FBI to touch him.
Quantico, Virginia, Federation. FBI Headquarters. "Kingpin!"
Armand Tullus, over fifty years old, is the fifteenth Director of the FBI.
The Director sat in his office, listening to the report from his Subordinates, his brows furrowed into a tight knot.
As the Boss of the FBI, he naturally knew how difficult Kingpin was to deal with.
But the pressure from the President's side also made him uncomfortable.
Armand Tullus sighed, just about to order the FBI Agents in New York to investigate Kingpin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a piece of information in front of him, information sent from the New York Police Department (NYPD).
...
New York, Chrysler Building.
On the top floor of the Skyscraper, Kingpin, dressed in a white Suit and leaning on a Cane, stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. His massive frame, like a mountain of flesh, showed no sign of being bloated; his stout body gave off a feeling of extreme strength.
His business spanned the globe.
In terms of martial prowess, Kingpin himself was a top-tier martial arts master. Having been injected with a certain secondary serum developed by the military, he possessed several times the strength of an ordinary person.
At this moment, the Crime Boss, powerful in both martial arts and influence, had a gloomy expression. On his desk lay a court summons.
What is the ultimate fate of a gangster boss?
This is not a philosophical question.
Many people would say it's going to prison for further education, which sounds like a Hell joke.
But in the Federation Government's prisons, many once-powerful gangster bosses are indeed locked up.
Among them are many of Kingpin's predecessors.
The earliest of them could even be traced back to the Prohibition era, their influence once spanning half the Federation.
However, after losing their value, they were locked up in prison, living more miserably than dogs.
Whitewashing his image has always been Kingpin's long-held wish.
No matter how successful a gang leader is, in the eyes of truly upper-class figures, he is always just a chamber pot.
Used when needed, and tucked under the bed when not.
Kingpin didn't want to be a chamber pot forever. For years, he had been dedicated to whitewashing his image and doing charity work.
Now, he was a Councillor in the New York City Council.
Frankly speaking, his reputation among ordinary citizens now even surpassed that of some government officials.
And now, an arrest warrant and a court summons were about to destroy his image.
Kingpin grinned, his stark white teeth like a bloodthirsty shark.
"Contact the top legal team in the Federation for me! Invite all the top lawyers!"
"Yes, Boss!" The Subordinate beside him lowered his head. In front of this unpredictable BOSS, it was better to say less and not talk too much.
Perhaps one wrong word that displeased the Boss, and they would be sent away with a strike from his Cane.
A few pesky bugs couldn't help but jump out, so he would just crush them.
Kingpin looked down at the Skyscrapers outside the building, his face extremely cold.
...
Of course, all these events were part of Tang Song's plan.
To deal with a deeply entrenched gangster boss, the first step is to prune the branches and leaves of this big tree.
Make him have many enemies, and then Tang Song would just give a gentle push.
Boom, the big tree would collapse.
News from New York was gradually compiled for Tang Song. Tang Song lay leisurely under a sun umbrella in beach shorts, his eyes half-closed behind sunglasses, looking at the azure sea before him.
Poor Kingpin, he wondered if he was currently overwhelmed with problems.
Tang Song picked up a glass of champagne from the small table beside him and took a sip.
Around him, four large white men in black suits and sunglasses blocked various beautiful women who wanted to strike up a conversation.
This super cruise ship named Costa Concordia departed from New York, its destination Italy.
(End of Chapter)