Chapter 1009: Negotiation, Order, and Suicide

The consequences of any assassination attempt targeting a "leader" are extremely severe.

If the assassination succeeds, it is still relatively manageable. A massive organization might temporarily fall into chaos without a decisive leader, possibly neglecting to pursue who killed their former leader, and the newly appointed leader might directly or indirectly obscure the matter due to their own intentions to purge the old leader's faction.

However, if the assassination fails, they will face the extreme wrath of the person targeted.

Death, after all, is the endpoint that every life fears the most.

Failure means a mortal feud, although the situation is close to that now.

The Perez family is one of the five major gangs in the Federation, and they have far more exposed assets than the Lance Family.

From publicly listed companies to certain factories, countless bars, and their large number of direct and extended family members.

They would all become Lance's primary targets. At that point, it would truly be a war to the death.

When Fran's cousin raised his objection, Fran's expression became somewhat awkward. He turned around, seemingly using this drastic movement to defuse his embarrassment. "If we can't eliminate Lance now, should we just continue like this with these rat-like people?"

He was very annoyed. Repeated setbacks against the Lance Family had already made him a laughingstock in the eyes of the other major families.

The authority of the Perez family was constantly being challenged and eroded by these repeated injuries. This was not a good sign.

His cousin pursed his lips. "Right now, Congress and the Federal Government do not want to see large-scale internal gang wars, so..."

He paused, leaving a moment for reflection. "My suggestion is that we pull back for now, and then after the war is over, we solve them all at once."

"Fran, no one believes we are weaker than the Lance Family. They currently only have the advantage because we cannot engage in a major firefight. If we were to go all out, do you think we would lose?"

Fran thought through his cousin's words and then shook his head. "Obviously not. We have far more people than they do."

The "people" here were not just the official gang members but also roles like company security guards.

If these people didn't participate in gang wars, they were ordinary employees.

But if they were given a weapon, they could turn into ruthless gunmen.

Gang wars are a competition of who is not afraid to die, and who has the superior numbers.

If the Camilla Gang hadn't only sent over a hundred men to attack Lance's group of twenty or so people in the Triangle District, but had sent three hundred or five hundred!

No matter how strong Lance's group's will to resist was, no matter how fearless they were, they absolutely would not have survived.

Fran was gradually convinced. "So, what do we do now?"

His cousin said, "Let's give ourselves a respectable 'half-time break' and temporarily bring this matter to a close."

Fran was still struggling. As one of the five major gang families in the Federation, he had never suffered this kind of humiliation!

"Boni's father will definitely complain!" he emphasized.

Boni was, after all, injured while acting for the family. He was now in a coma, and the doctor's words were polite, but to put it clearly and directly, whether Boni would wake up could only be left to God.

As a father, Fran had some empathy for the direct family members. Although Boni had a brother, that kid was just an ordinary fool who couldn't handle any serious responsibility.

His cousin smiled. "Which is more important, the small family or the large family?"

"They will understand. Furthermore, we are not abandoning revenge, it's just that now is not the right time for revenge."

The "no-firefight" ban was indeed a huge headache for large-scale gangs because their size made it impossible for them to hide a major conflict.

Look, both of Lance's recent actions, strictly speaking, were not considered major firefights.

When everyone abides by this rule, whoever is smaller has more flexibility in a confined space.

...

In the morning, Lance arrived at Senator Cleveland's office. Senator Cleveland greeted him at the office door. The two shook hands, and Cleveland led him into the office.

"I've heard what happened these past few days. You handled it very well, very restrained."

The two sat down across the Senator's desk. Tom proactively brought them coffee and some small pastries, and then sat on a nearby sofa.

Everyone here was "one of their own," so the atmosphere was relaxed, with fewer formalities.

"When do you think the situation in Rapa will stabilize?"

Lance placed his hands on his knees. "Before March next year."

"They have been fighting very fiercely recently, and both sides have suffered significant losses. They cannot sustain the current intensity for too long."

"At that time, we just need to do a simple sweep and clean up the loose ends."

"I have already contacted members of some major families who have defected to us. They are also accumulating strength, preparing for that day."

Though only a few sentences, it was enough for Senator Cleveland to understand the progress and future direction of the matter.

He was very satisfied with Lance's handling of the Rapa issue. They had barely used any Federal Government resources, yet they had thrown the nation of Rapa into complete disarray, and both sides' active forces were rapidly being consumed.

More and more Rapa citizens were gathering in the New Federal Center now because the concession area was safe, life was secure, and they could, more or less, find a job.

In contrast to the Rapa government and the anti-government forces, it was actually the Federal people who were protecting the ordinary Rapa civilians. Lance's influence, and the Federation's influence, were rapidly expanding among the populace.

"You handle it as you see fit. If you need anything, you can contact me or Tom."

Senator Cleveland began to truly address the reason he had called Lance over today. "Have you seen those anti-war protests and parades?"

Lance nodded. "I passed by the city center on the way here and saw them. The scale wasn't very large."

"But it wasn't a small number of people either!" Senator Cleveland said angrily. "Several hundred people, Lance."

"Now they're pointing their finger at me."

Lance's expression control was clearly lost for a moment. He looked startled, as if he couldn't believe this matter could be linked to the Senator.

"Why aren't they pointing at the military, the Department of Defense, the President, or other senators?"

"Whether or not to start a war isn't something you alone can decide."

Senator Cleveland's face darkened. "Perhaps I've been too prominent these past two years, so they hope to find a quick target to draw fire."

Lance nodded slightly. If that were the case, it made sense.

It was like the struggle between workers and capitalists. When the vast majority of workers protest or parade, they will choose a relatively well-known capitalist as a target, a bullseye.

They won't choose those whose names no one has ever heard of, because a famous enemy can quickly unite the workers, while those without fame cannot create external pressure and cannot unite them quickly.

The name Senator Cleveland certainly carried some weight.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

The Senator calling him over this time was certainly not for Lance's affairs, but for his own.

Since he mentioned that these people were targeting him, he must counteract them. No one, whether a gang leader or a politician, will constantly take hits passively.

Senator Cleveland did not answer the question directly. He asked a seemingly unrelated question, "What is the situation with that truck driver?"

Lance thoughtfully explained the driver's situation in detail. "He is a married middle-aged man with a terminal illness, three children, a mortgage, and some other loans, as well as the pressure of raising three children."

"Cancer, you know, quite a few medical scientists are researching it recently."

In fact, cancer has existed since ancient times, but people were not very clear about its pathogenesis and fatal mechanisms.

With the development of modern medicine, some previously incomprehensible diseases are beginning to lift their mysterious veil and reveal their true form.

However, with the deepening of research, many people believe that cancer is difficult to cure because of some of its terrifying characteristics. Therefore, once one contracts cancer, there is basically no turning back.

Some medical experts believe that it may take fifty years before they have hope of solving the cancer problem, but in fact, even after a hundred years, they still cannot solve the cancer problem.

Contracting cancer, having a heavy family burden, loans, raising children to adulthood. All of it is indeed a terrible scene, a hellish situation.

"I bought his remaining life for 20,000 dollars."

"If nothing unexpected happens, he will commit suicide soon."

In fact, the driver had long wanted to commit suicide. If he hadn't been strongly holding on to live, to solve his family's worries before he died, he might have already been dead several months ago.

At his current stage, the progression is already out of control, and every minute and second he is in extreme pain.

The period of executing this mission may have been the happiest days he experienced since his diagnosis, because Lance's nearly continuous supply of strong painkillers gave him the illusion of being alive again.

It led him to believe, for a time, that he was cured, until a break in medication made him realize that he hadn't gotten better, but worse.

Now he is detained in the police station. Once the drug effect wears off, the pain will make him end himself, and the case will be closed at that point.

Senator Cleveland sighed slightly. "20,000 dollars. Sometimes people's lives are truly worthless."

Lance nodded. "Who's to say otherwise?"

Senator Cleveland sat there, tilting his head and pondering for a good two or three minutes. He suddenly moved, picked up a pen, and wrote a name and an address on a sticky note.

"This guy has been biting at me recently, and I'm a bit annoyed with him. Give him a small warning, but you can't kill him. Yet, you need to make him feel fear."

"Also, the day after tomorrow, at this address, there will be a group of people. You know what I mean."

Lance took the card and looked at it for a while, also thinking. "Such a big case will definitely involve us."

Senator Cleveland said softly, "No one cares how many people die in a car accident. This world has accidents every day, sometimes here, sometimes there."

"When an accident comes, the only thing people can do is pray!"

This indicated that he had made up his mind. He had been so bothered by these people lately that he couldn't stand it.

Lance nodded. "I will make the arrangements."

This brought a slight, relaxed smile to Senator Cleveland's face. "It looks like I can get a good night's sleep!"

At the end of the conversation, he seemed to suddenly remember something. "Oh, by the way, that Fran Perez has found people hoping that Congress can mediate again. You might have to sit down and negotiate."

Lance stood up and said, "I understand." It was to be expected.

If they couldn't fight, they would have to negotiate.

Senator Cleveland shook his hand and escorted him to the door of the room. "Tom, please see Lance out for me."

Lance understood why the Senator didn't escort him to the outside of the building. After all, his current status was still a bit lacking, which was understandable.

After saying goodbye to the Senator, he walked out with Tom. Tom said softly, "He hasn't been sleeping well recently. You know, those... ordinary people, they are not as subtle in their expression as politicians."

"Some of them organize, and when the Congress routine meeting is held, they will be on the steps outside Congress, chasing the Senator and cursing him."

"So... his emotions are slightly out of control right now."

In broad daylight, the Senator is cursed at and can only walk faster, unable to refute, unable to curse back, unable to do anything. It is indeed very frustrating.

If he were just an ordinary person like those who cursed him, he might not be so angry.

But he is one of the true masters of this country at the current stage. A master being chased and cursed by a group of the lowest-level common people would indeed cause one to lose emotional balance.

"I can understand!" Lance truly understood. "I will handle it well. Don't worry about it."

Tom "hmm-ed." "You are very experienced. I believe you can definitely do it well. But you still need to be careful with this matter."

"Try your best not to leave any evidence. As long as there is no evidence, in the Federation, no one can touch you, or us!"

Evidence is the key.

"I understand."

...

Meanwhile, in the police detention room, the driver was clenching his hair with both hands in intense pain. The effect of the strong painkillers was wearing off little by little.

The kind of pain that arose from his very bones began to torment him again like a curse!

He didn't know what evil he had done for God to send such a punishment. Whenever the pain started, he wished he could die immediately.

Immediately.

But not yet. He was still waiting, waiting for a piece of news.

After a while, a police officer suddenly walked over. He looked at the driver, who was holding his head, curled up, and constantly swaying back and forth, instinctively assuming he was just anxious.

The officer tapped the iron bars with his baton. "Your lawyer is here. Do you want to see him?"

The driver looked up, his eyes somewhat fierce, so fierce that the officer couldn't help but frown.

The driver stood up, suppressing the physical pain. His body trembled slightly. "I want to see him!"

About a few minutes later, he saw his lawyer in the reception room.

This lawyer was not hired by him. Lance had hired him, not to help him clear his name or anything, but just to inform him of one thing.

After entering the room, the lawyer first checked, and after confirming there was no surveillance equipment, he closed the door and walked to the table and sat down.

He took out a letter from his briefcase and handed it over. He didn't say a single word during the entire process.

The truck driver picked up the letter and unfolded it with trembling hands. It was his wife's handwriting. They had secretly discussed before how to confirm that the 20,000 dollars had truly reached his wife's hands. The secret was in this handwritten letter.

If his wife received the 20,000 dollars, he would quickly end his own life.

If his wife did not receive the 20,000 dollars, he would tell everything he knew and didn't know.

It seemed that the people who had contacted him kept their word.

He read the entire letter. His wife said they had received 30,000 dollars, not 20,000, and the other party had promised to take care of their future lives.

Whether his sons wanted to work or go to school, the other party would try their best to give them some assistance.

The driver actually knew who was "helping" him, and he was grateful to Lance from the bottom of his heart.

After reading the letter, the pain that had plagued him seemed to lessen at that very moment.

He handed the letter back to the lawyer. "Help me tell that gentleman thank you. Although I am just a nobody, I am grateful that he gave me this opportunity."

30,000 dollars. Even if the truck driver's salary was a bit higher, perhaps 80 dollars, it would still take a hundred months to earn only 8,000 dollars.

30,000 dollars would require him to work for 375 months, which is thirty years, to obtain this much money.

But he couldn't live for thirty years at all. If he could live for thirty years, such a good opportunity would not have fallen to him.

The lawyer still did not speak. He just put away the letter. "Remember your promise."

With that, he got up and left.

After the officer escorted the driver back to his small, individual room, he pulled a shoelace out from the corner of his clothing, where it had been specifically hidden.

He found a suitable spot—the iron bars had two horizontal beams for reinforcement from top to bottom.

He tied the shoelace around his neck and secured it to the horizontal beam. Then he tried his best to adopt a lying-down posture. The shoelace instantly tightened around his neck.

As the feeling of suffocation became more severe, the physical pain and the spiritual satisfaction seemed to be rapidly merging into one.

He could no longer feel the pain. His whole being seemed to be soaking in warm water...