dmims Page 173
Page 173
"Frankie, when did you learn to read Shakespeare? Just tell me!"
Ethan frowned: "So what? What should we hope for? That Haas's defense fails? That Carl Lee is sentenced to death? Then the riots will spread throughout the city!"
French's eyes lit up. "But not a simple riot. Imagine: what if a white lawyer defending a Black hero was killed by a white extremist? What if Black hero Carl Lee was 'suicided' in prison?"
The room fell silent.
Michael was the first to react: "My God, Franky, are you crazy? That will cause a war!"
"And in the midst of chaos,"
Victor slowly replied, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, "Who cares about some small changes? Chinese-owned shops can 'take the opportunity' to expand their business areas; we can 'help' the city government restore order in exchange for political leverage; while the police are busy dealing with riots, certain 'obstacles' can be quietly cleared away."
Ethan's face turned pale: "We're talking about profiting from potential bloodshed? That's incredibly unethical!"
Victor chuckled. "Was the 1882 'Railway Act' moral? Was it moral to treat us as enemies during World War II? Is it moral for universities to limit admissions by race now?"
Ethan, I admire your idealism, but the reality is that Chinese people always play by other people's rules in other people's games, and the result is always that they lose.
Victor stood up and walked to a map of Chicago on the wall: “Look here, the South Side, it’s a mess right now. But after the riots, rebuilding needs money, contractors, and shops. White businesses are afraid to go in, and Black businesses lack funds. If we plan ahead…”
He drew a circle on the map with his finger. "In five years, this area can become Chinatown South."
He turned to Michael: "When the judicial system is overwhelmed, are those pending Chinese rights cases more likely to receive favorable judgments?"
Then he looked at Ethan: "When young people take to the streets to protest, could we 'guide' them to avoid Chinese-owned businesses and target only white-owned businesses?"
Finally, he said to Frankie, "Is it possible that some of the white politicians who have been causing us trouble might have died 'accidentally' during the riots?"
"Every wrong has its perpetrator and every debt has its creditor!"
Franky grinned. "I already have some names on the list."
Michael took a deep breath: "How exactly do we do it? Haas has police protection, and Carl Lee is in jail."
“Protection cannot last forever.”
French said, "As for the prison... I have informants. They can make it look like Carl Lee's death was done by white guards, or by a black gang to stir up trouble."
Ethan still hesitated: "How many lives will be lost? A hundred? A thousand?"
How many people die every day in Chicago due to gang violence, police brutality, and poverty?
Viktor countered, “The difference is that this bloodshed might bring us a generation of safety and prosperity. Sometimes, the most moral choice is to make an immoral decision.”
The four remained silent for a long time, until only the faint sound of police sirens in the distance broke the silence.
"We need majority agreement."
Viktor said, "Those who don't want to participate can leave, and I guarantee there will be no consequences. But once you make a decision, there's no going back."
Michael was the first to raise his hand: "For the community." His voice trembled slightly, but was firm.
Franky raised his hand: "For the opportunity."
All eyes turned to Ethan. Sweat beaded on the young man's forehead, his hands clenched tightly. Finally, he closed his eyes and laboriously raised his hands: "For survival."
Victor nodded, his eyes showing no joy of victory, only a heavy resolve: "Then let's get to work. Michael, you're in charge of gathering information on Haas and Carl Lee's schedules and security details."
Ethan, you need to make sure the young people 'properly guide' their anger when the time comes.
Franky, you're in charge of allocating resources and manpower. I'll handle overall coordination and communication with...higher-ups.
After the meeting, Viktor remained alone in the room.
Attorney Jerry Haas took Carl Lee's case very seriously.
He assembled a defense team at his firm, working day and night.
Despite receiving countless threatening letters—some white people called him a "racial traitor," and some black people suspected him of being a "white spy"—Haas remained convinced that this was a key case for achieving justice.
Unbeknownst to him, his schedule, security arrangements, and daily routes had been obtained by Michael through an insider in the judicial system and passed on to Frankie.
Meanwhile, Ethan struggled to carry out his mission.
At a community meeting, he seemingly casually mentioned, "If something happens to Attorney Haas, the white people will definitely blame the black people, and then we really will have no choice but to go to war."
The anger in the eyes of the young people was ignited, and they began to secretly stockpile gasoline and weapons.
Frankie, on the other hand, used his entire network.
Two professional assassins are hired; their target is Haas.
The informant in the prison received instructions and poison;
A batch of guns was secretly distributed to selected Chinese groups, ostensibly for "self-defense".
Viktor sits in the center, like a chess player at a chessboard, moving people and resources around.
He secretly communicated with the mayor's office, implying that the Chinese community could help "maintain order" in exchange for future reconstruction contracts and political support;
He met with Black leaders, expressing support while subtly inciting their anger;
He even contacted white supremacist groups through intermediaries, providing them with funds and weapons to "encourage" them to take action.
A perfect storm is brewing.
······
The night before Haas was murdered, it snowed in Chicago.
Snowflakes gently covered the streets, temporarily burying the garbage and bloodstains, giving the city a false appearance of purity.
Haas worked late into the night, standing by the office window watching the snow.
He felt inexplicably uneasy, but attributed it to the pressure of the case.
Unbeknownst to him, in the building across the street, a gunman was already in position, waiting for him to leave the house the next morning.
At the same time, in prison, Carl Lee Haley was reading his daughter Tanya's essay, "My Dream Chicago."
Tears blurred his vision.
The guard watched him through the surveillance window, quietly pouring a small bottle of clear liquid into a glass of water. It was an informant Frankie had placed there.
Viktor didn't sleep that night.
In the secluded room, he burned incense to pay homage to his ancestors. Amidst the swirling smoke, he seemed to see the faces of countless Chinese ancestors—railway workers, laundry workers, restaurant waiters—generations of people who silently endured discrimination and violence.
"Forgive me,"
He whispered to the void, “But I would rather you forgive me for taking action than for doing nothing.”
·······
The assassination was carried out cleanly and efficiently.
The next morning, as Haas walked out of the apartment building and was about to get into his car, a bullet struck him precisely in the head.
He died instantly.
The sniper quickly disassembled his weapon and withdrew via the pre-arranged route.
A deliberately discarded badge was left at the scene—belonging to a white supremacist group.
Almost simultaneously, news came from the prison that Carl Lee Haley had "committed suicide," leaving a suicide note stating that he did not want to become a trigger for racial conflict.
No one believed this claim, especially when the prison guard was found to be a member of an extremist group.
Chicago exploded.
A full-blown riot broke out in the South, this time not only among Black people, but also among some white civil rights supporters. Police
The National Guard was fully mobilized and called in.
Shops were looted, buildings were burned, and streets became battlefields.
But strangely, Chinatown and the surrounding area were relatively quiet.
The youth group led by Sen "unexpectedly" protected Chinese-owned shops;
Frankie's men "just happened" to appear in the right place and prevented the robbery;
Michael, on the other hand, was busy communicating with the city government and offering "help".
Victor's prophecy began to come true—amidst the chaos, the Chinese community seemed to be the only island of order.
The mayor urgently summoned Victor, requesting the Chinese community's assistance in maintaining order, and implicitly acknowledging future political and economic rewards.
Viktor saved six years.
Chapter 147 Taxes and Fists
In Chicago's winter, the wind is like a knife, sweeping across the icy surface of Lake Michigan, seeping into every crevice of the city, and into people's hearts.
But this physical cold is nothing compared to the frozen social atmosphere of the city.
The conflict between Black and White races, like a boiler under increasing pressure, has long since transcended verbal disputes and sporadic clashes, evolving into a cold war that permeates the air and seeps into daily life.
Recent events have completely blown the valve off this boiler.
The Black community sees this as a brutal act of retaliation by white people against "traitors" and "troublemakers," and is furious.
The white community, however, firmly believed that this was a purge operation by white supremacists and even corrupt police, and was filled with grief and indignation.
Protests, demonstrations, and sporadic acts of vandalism, looting, and arson began to emerge. The slogans on the banners became increasingly extreme, the walls of estrangement were built higher and higher, and trust vanished completely.
The continued economic downturn should have been a top priority, but now, sharp racial tensions seem to have sidelined economic issues.
In the eye of this chaotic storm, however, some people remain remarkably calm, seizing the "opportunity."
Viktor calmly observed the escalating storm, his dark eyes devoid of any emotional fluctuation, only displaying shrewd calculation.
He saw panic—panic among white middle-class people and small business owners.
They feared their life's work would be ruined by the riots, and that their families' safety would be threatened.
So, Victor took action.
Through a series of covert and efficient operations, he quietly acquired at least twelve small white businesses in sensitive areas—from corner laundromats to sizable auto repair shops—at prices far below market value.
The seller just wanted to get rid of the goods quickly, get the cash, and leave this city that felt like it could explode at any moment.
Victor's agents always manage to appear at just the right time, offering a "fair" low-priced contract and a hefty sum of cash.
The transactions were completed quickly and silently, as if they had never happened, leaving behind only a series of shops that changed hands and more rumors about "that Chinaman" taking advantage of the situation.