69novels Chapter 67 Hell's Sword and Umbrella
Chapter 67 Hell's Sword and Umbrella
Chapter 67 Hell's Sword and Umbrella
Lee En pushed open the bathroom door, and Brock was standing in the hallway.
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
When he saw Li En come out, he pulled his hat down over his head, stood up straight, and his face no longer had the usual shrewdness of a seasoned veteran.
It's quite rare to see this guy so serious.
"Nine officers were injured in this incident, three with minor injuries and six with serious injuries. Brett is paralyzed."
As Brock said this, his eyebrows twitched and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
He clenched his right fist, then raised it and punched Li En in the shoulder, pressing the back of his hand against Li En's epaulettes.
"The Manhattan precinct hasn't suffered a loss like this in many years."
"The health insurance company is still going through the procedures. It's fine for others, but Bright—"
He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
"That kid has a mother who takes medication all year round, and a younger brother who is several years younger than him. Even if insurance can reimburse part of the cost, he still can't afford the rest."
He didn't finish what he was saying.
Bright is 26 years old, paralyzed from the waist down, has no savings, and no relatives who can help pay off his debts.
Brock had seen far too many people like that on this street.
Injured, unemployed, unable to pay the bills, then started drinking, started taking pills bought on street corners, started laying cardboard books under the vents.
He had seen it so many times that he could automatically replay the entire trajectory in his mind.
But he couldn't apply that trajectory to Bright.
"As for the money, Umbrella has already registered and received the contract. Do you have any reliable channels? We can start operating now."
Li En removed his back from the wall and stood up straight.
Within three years, the ports owned by the Razorfen Downs and the Amick Group will be operated by Umbrella.
The most important thing now is to provide support for these injured guys.
We cannot allow Bright to give up rehabilitation simply because he cannot afford medical expenses.
We also can't let the other officers lying in hospital beds be overwhelmed by bills while waiting for insurance approval.
Brock pulled his fist away from Lee's shoulder and let it hang at his side, his face still looking grim.
He understood why Li En suddenly brought up company matters, but it was precisely because he understood so well that he felt even more burdened.
He leaned against the corridor wall, rubbing his fingers back and forth along the seam of his pants several times, his lips opening and closing repeatedly.
Li En did not urge him.
Brock had spent most of his life in Hell's Kitchen, and his network of connections was thicker than the police station's filing cabinets.
Even if he doesn't have direct channels himself, he must know someone who does.
"If it's a channel for transporting those things, it's easy to find."
Brock finally spoke, his voice much lower than before.
"But legitimate business—is very difficult."
He took off his hat and rubbed the brim back and forth with his fingertips.
"The only thing I can think of is bringing some small commodities over to sell, but even if the company is willing to pay in advance, the returns and profits are too low to solve the immediate problem."
He had to admit it.
The harbor on the west side of Midtown Manhattan, along the Hudson River piers, you can find anything here.
Smuggling weapons, human trafficking, pirated CDs, counterfeit money templates, etc., but no one touches legitimate business.
The profit margin is too low; it's not even in the same league as illegal goods.
Li En went over Brock's words in his mind: human trafficking is unacceptable; that's the bottom line.
buzzing.
My phone rang in my pocket.
"Feed".
"Hi~ I'm Fergie, legal counsel for Umbrella Corporation." The voice on the other end of the phone was cheerful.
"Fergie, what's wrong?" Li En didn't leave, but stood next to Brock, tilting his phone slightly outward so that Brock could hear him too.
"Our Hellsword seems to be in a bad mood today?"
"What is the Hellfire Sword?" Li En looked up at Brock.
Brock took two steps back, snatched an open copy of the New York Gazette from a passing officer, and held the newspaper up to Lee.
The front page headline featured a line of bold black text:
The sword that cuts through the darkness of Hell's Kitchen—a special forces team.
The main photo shows the mayor and Chief of Police Gallo shaking hands at a press conference, accompanied by two other photos.
On the left is Li En standing in front of the burning factory ruins, and on the right is Frank standing in front of the Paradise Group building, covered in blood, holding a shotgun in both hands.
Editor's signature: Ben Yurik.
The entire report was written with a fervent tone, as if something had been suppressed for a long time and had finally found an outlet.
Each word seems to have been written with some kind of burning emotion.
"Oh! My bad, I should have waited until I watched the evening news to find this message myself."
On the other end of the phone, Fergie slapped his forehead, making a loud "smack" sound.
Of course he knew what Li En had been busy with lately.
Newspapers all over New York were reporting on his news on their front pages.
"Alright, Foggy, the company's just been established, you must have a lot to do."
Virginia is a very good person. She is friendly with everyone and has a humorous and witty way of speaking.
So Lee En directly invited Foggy and Matt to become partners.
Although their official positions are legal counsel, they are also shareholders of the company, albeit with a smaller shareholding.
But for two intern lawyers who had only recently graduated from university, this was already an amazing achievement.
Moreover, Umbrella has secured a three-year port contract, indicating a promising future.
"Let's get down to business." Foggy's tone changed quickly.
"A company wants to cooperate with us and rent the port for a period of time."
"Their demand is exclusive use, that they be allowed to use it only."
"What company?" Li En understood.
It's not about leasing a single berth; it's about leasing the entire port.
"Global Alliance Investment Company originally wanted to directly invest in Umbrella, but I declined on your behalf."
"You definitely won't agree, right?"
"No, the company must be under our control." Lee Enlian didn't hesitate.
Umbrella is now his only legal asset, with 85% of the shares in his possession.
The money given to the mayor and the police union is profit sharing, not equity.
Virginia and Matt are partners, holding a small percentage of the shares, but enough to make them treat the company as their own.
"So I've already turned it down, but this company is pretty impressive. It has businesses all over New York. It's not a top giant, but it's definitely a business tycoon."
From Virginia's end came the rustling sound of papers being turned over, her speech maintaining its characteristic fast and clear pace.
"They plan to rent for one year first, with a deposit of five million, for a total of twenty-five million."
"According to my and Matt's research, the annual gross profit of a single berth at a terminal, for regular cargo, is about 65 million."
"Of course, we're talking about legitimate goods here."
Having grown up in Hell's Kitchen, Virginia's understanding of the port's true throughput doesn't require any publicly available data.
The Hudson River Terminal on the west side of Midtown Manhattan is not a deep-water ocean port, but rather an urban supply terminal.
Even at the supply docks, the annual transaction volume of legitimate goods easily exceeds one billion.
Several years ago, the federal government began planning to transform these marinas into island-hopping sightseeing and yachting leisure areas.
The plan had been printed several times, but each time it was blocked by the gang using various means.
If the Razor Gang and Amick Group had continued operating in the same way, they wouldn't have needed to consider gross profit at all.
Just calculate the net profit directly; the final return will probably double.
That's the temptation of crime.
They earned too much.
"I'd like to hear Matt's opinion." Lee switched the phone to her other hand.
"Matt!" Fogg called out to the side.
A moment later, a lower voice came through the receiver.
"I'm Matt."
"You've been in contact with people from Global United Investment Company, right? What do you think?"
Lee knew Matt's capabilities; the people sent by the company to negotiate would definitely be tested by Matt.
"That man's name is Wesley," Matt said in a low voice.
"He didn't tell a single truth; all his descriptions of the joint investment company's business were lies."
"Hey Matt, you can't always tell the whole truth when you're doing business."
Fergie's voice drifted over from a slightly more distant location.
"We're in a bit of a predicament right now. Some of our brothers at the police station need money. Taking this order will be a lifesaver."
Li En leaned back against the corridor wall and tapped her fingers lightly twice on her thigh.
After deducting taxes and completing the profit-sharing process, a deposit of five million left a little over two million.
This money is enough for Bright and several other seriously injured officers to receive proper medical treatment.
This allows them to relax while waiting for their insurance to process, without worrying about the bill.
Matt is capable enough to keep an eye on this company.
This was one of the reasons he invited Matt and Foggy to join Umbrella.
They are not just lawyers.
"I can keep an eye on them, no problem."
Matt was silent for a moment, then spoke, his voice still very low.
"But—what if they really do commit crimes at the port?"
"The media calls me the Sword of Hell, doesn't they?" Li En's voice was calm.
"By the way, you need to arrange for legal tax avoidance; that's part of your job as lawyers."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Then I heard Foggy snatch the phone from the receiver.
"Don't worry! We'll handle all the necessary procedures and transfer the funds to the company account within the next couple of days!"
Fergie's voice took over the microphone again. After saying this, he turned his face to the side and covered the microphone with his hand, but not completely, and his voice still leaked out from between his fingers.
"What's wrong with legitimate tax avoidance? Which company doesn't—"
Li En moved the phone away from her ear a little further.
The voices of Foggy and Matt continued to come through the receiver, going back and forth, occasionally interspersed with the muffled sound of hands slapping on the table.
Block stood nearby and could hear snippets of conversation coming from the phone.
The expression on his face slowly changed from somber to a complex look that was hard to define as either expectation or doubt.
After a while, Fogg's voice returned to the microphone, his breathing somewhat uneven.
"We've discussed it and agreed that doing charity work can reduce our taxes significantly. What are your thoughts?"
"Something like a cancer foundation?"
"Let's build a free school in Hell's Kitchen, the kind that teaches seriously."
When Li En said this, his tone was exactly the same as when he was discussing the port's gross profit.
"What!?" Foggie's voice boomed from the receiver.
Almost simultaneously, Brock also let out the same sound.
The phone went silent again, and the silence lasted for a long time.
It was long enough that Lee En could hear Matt flipping through some documents on Virginia's end.
It went on so long that he could hear the two people adjusting their breathing rhythms on the other end of the line.
Hell's Kitchen has a school.
Church schools, Clinton public schools, and several boarding primary and secondary schools, which are also orphanages.
But most of the children who attend school here drop out early and are drawn into gangster smuggling by the economic pull of the streets.
Or they might end up as homeless people sleeping under ventilation vents.
Ironically, drug addicts' parents often go to the school gate, wait for their children after class, and beg them for leftover bread from their lunch.
The church school, to put it bluntly, was just a few priests and nuns leading a group of homeless children in reading the Bible; there were no serious courses.
Public schools do have teachers, but they leave after class, are irresponsible, do not keep students after school, and do not spend a single minute more than necessary on any student.
Fergie and Matt crawled out of this system.
One came from a church school, the other from a public school.
They knew better than anyone what a school in Hell's Kitchen meant.
Brock leaned against the wall, his mouth still half-open. He heard not only about building schools, but also about teaching diligently.
These four words, placed in Hell's Kitchen, are more significant than those of the Cancer Foundation or the Children's Foundation.
Charity projects that can be started simply by putting up a sign and hiring a few people are far more burdensome than those that can be run by hand.
Foundations can operate as long as they have money, but schools cannot.
Schools need staff—teachers, caregivers, and school bus drivers.
Each position is a vacancy that needs to be filled.
Finding a teacher willing to work in Hell's Kitchen is much harder than finding a truck driver willing to transport drugs.
"It's settled." Matt's voice came through the receiver, this time without lowering his voice.
His voice was trembling.
"I will do everything in my power to protect Umbrella Corporation and will never allow anyone to sabotage it."
"Ah, you'll have to figure out the specific plans first. I've been a bit busy lately, so just hire whoever you need."
Li En hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.
He turned around and saw Brock leaning against the wall with a strange expression on his face.
"Get to the point."
Brock did not answer.
He took two steps forward, extended his right hand, spread his five fingers, and patted Li En on the shoulder.
He has been a policeman for thirty years, and in those thirty years he has seen too much.
I saw my colleague's body being pulled from the Hudson River.
I've seen gangsters sign peace agreements in dockside bars, only to tear them up that same night.
I've seen countless young people swallowed up by this neighborhood, unable to even spit out their bones.
He never believed that anyone could change Hell's Kitchen.
Because Hell's Kitchen is a shredder; anyone who tries to change it will be crushed by it first.
But now he looked at the person in front of him—
"Li En, please let me know if you need anything."
"Don't try that." Li En waved his hand and turned to walk towards the other end of the corridor.
He still needs to go to the hospital.