Chapter 901: Grain Crisis

With a clang, the door of the visitation room was pushed open, and Mr. Walter walked in from outside, wearing handcuffs.

He didn't have much of a smile on his face when he saw the legal representative.

He was pushed by a police officer. "Don't try any tricks. I'll be watching you!"

Mr. Walter glanced at him, then walked to his designated seat with a long face and sat down. The officer then uncuffed him, but used other tools to restrain his behavior.

For example, the front of the chair's armrests were connected and locked by an iron chain, making it very difficult for him to stand up and leave.

The officer then walked outside the door and stood there. "You have ten minutes," he said, then closed the door.

Mr. Walter gestured for the lawyer to give him a cigarette.

You could actually get cigarettes in prison, but the price of cigarettes was ridiculous.

A pack of cigarettes that cost only five cents outside could be sold for two dollars here.

And after buying cigarettes, it wasn't just for you to smoke alone. Others would soon come over, and you had to share a puff with them, otherwise there would be trouble.

He hadn't been sent to a federal prison yet, but was still in the court's holding cell. Because other states were applying for his extradition, the court's side had no intention of letting him go to prison to serve his sentence for the time being.

However, every day he was detained in court was also counted as his official sentence.

He took a deep drag on the good cigarette. He had never felt that a high-end cigarette could be so satisfying. His whole person relaxed a little.

If there was some wine now, he would be satisfied!

After about ten seconds, he opened his eyes, his eyes full of dissatisfaction. "They sentenced me to three years!"

The legal representative maintained his very professional fake smile. "Mr. Walter, in Likalai State, attempted rape is a serious crime. The sentence is only two to three years less than a completed one."

"To be able to get you a three-year sentence is already the most perfect outcome this case could achieve."

Mr. Walter slammed the table. A "bang" sound echoed in the visitation room. The door of the room immediately opened, and the police looked inside.

The legal representative took out his wallet, drew out a twenty-dollar bill, placed it on the corner of the table, and pressed it down with a pen.

This money was for the bailiff, so that he wouldn't meddle.

The bailiff glanced at the two of them, then closed the door again and stood guard outside.

"This is Lance's territory. Whether you are guilty or not is not up to us to decide. Three years is the result of our best efforts. There's no point in you complaining about this."

"But there is good news. We have reached an agreement with Lance. The... state's side will extradite you over to investigate a case."

"An assault case. In the end, you will not be sentenced. The victim will withdraw the lawsuit and forgive you."

"Then we will apply for you to serve your sentence outside of prison, so that you can leave the prison."

Although the charge was a serious crime, the sentence was not. In addition, with some means and operations, it was indeed possible to let him serve his sentence outside of prison.

For example, his leg was broken and needed treatment.

The treatment of a fracture is often long, and might take him more than half a year or even a year. Then he could spend a little more money and find a way to apply for an early parole, and he could leave.

The legal representative had explained all this to him. Mr. Walter had listened very seriously, and had also raised a few questions.

Soon, ten minutes had passed. For the sake of the twenty dollars, the police officer had delayed coming in for two minutes. He even remembered to knock on the door.

"Time is up."

Mr. Walter put the cigarettes from the table into his pocket. The bailiff pretended not to see.

He walked to the side of the table. While cuffing Mr. Walter, he, with a very slick movement, put the twenty dollars from the corner of the table into his pocket.

Then he led him away.

With the cooperation of various parties, the prosecutor, after asking Mr. Walter some details about his assault case, had signed the application. He was put on a train and sent to another state.

It didn't take much time either. In just two days, he had arrived at another place, and was locked up in the detention room of the local prosecutor's office.

The next day, he met Vice President Robert, in a separate room.

For the Liberal Party or the Socialist Party, and the Federalist Party, this was an unpredictable swing state.

But for the Labor Federation, this was their base camp. They were planning to, in February of next year, 1025, to complete a series of matters concerning the establishment of the Workers' Party here.

The governor's side had already agreed on a series of cooperation matters with them. The entire state was controlled by the local political interest groups. After the establishment of the Workers' Party, it would not interfere with their control of the local area, and would also carry out a series of cooperation with them.

They might even help them to seek more seats in Congress!

In short, the cooperation between the two sides was very deep.

After the Socialist Party had split from the Liberal Party, it had already become the largest party in the Federation. Then, the Workers' Party, which was supported by twenty million worker brothers, how could it not be possible for it to become the largest party in the next era?

This was very possible!

Sitting in the independent visitation room, the two sat at both ends of the table, smoking. Vice President Robert looked at him and inexplicably laughed twice.

This laughter made Walter feel very unhappy. "What are you laughing at?"

Vice President Robert raised the hand that was not holding the cigarette and made a half-surrender gesture. "I didn't mean it. I just felt... you know, the magical part of fate is that it is unpredictable."

"A year ago, we were still discussing the question of what the chairman of the Workers' Party's representative committee should do, but look at you now!"

A smile appeared on his face, which made Walter even more annoyed. "Are you just here to laugh at me?"

Vice President Robert was still laughing, but after laughing for a while, he gradually stopped.

"I'm not that idle. I just came to see you."

"Do you still remember the Great Strike?"

Mr. Walter nodded, his face also full of nostalgia.

They had all personally participated in that Great Strike. At that time, they were still very young and had just entered society.

Even thinking about it now, it still made one's whole body full of strength!

They, arm in arm, had stood on the streets to fight against the police, against the fire department's water cannons, shouting the slogan "Long live the working class" at the top of their lungs, and had pressed in on those capitals and corrupt officials step by step.

In the end, they had achieved an unprecedented victory!

At the same time, the working class had also stood up.

As soon as they talked about the past, the two of them had a lot to say. As they chatted, they suddenly fell silent again.

Robert stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "So many years have passed. What is your dream?"

Mr. Walter squinted his eyes slightly. "At first I wanted to be rich, but this has already been realized."

"Now it seems that perhaps... becoming an official is my ideal?"

"I don't know either. People are complicated. At different times, the ideals are different."

Vice President Robert pursued, "Then what about now?"

"What is your ideal now?"

Mr. Walter was a little puzzled. "Is this important?"

But looking at the other party's serious expression, he could only lean back and raise his hands. "Alright, alright, let me think."

"My ideal now is to get out as soon as possible."

Vice President Robert was stunned for a moment, and then he smiled. "You can get out tomorrow."

Mr. Walter, because he was joking, "Haha, if that's true, then that's great!"

A few minutes later, Vice President Robert sighed and came out of the visitation room. He put on his thick coat and still felt a little cold.

Mr. Walter had to die. He was one of the first batch of Labor Federation people. From a small role, he had grown all the way to a vice president. He knew too many inside stories and deals.

For example, the private deals between the Labor Federation and the capitalists, the deals with the federal government, to help them to exploit and oppress the working class.

Think about it, everyone is of the working class. Why are those real workers still doing a job of thirty or forty a month, while these people can enjoy the same life as the people of the upper class?

Is it because of their hard work?

Is it because they work diligently?

Definitely not!

They had just sold their working-class brothers for a good price, repeatedly!

No one could guarantee that Mr. Walter would not spill these things, especially in a situation where he basically had no hope of holding any position in the party and the government.

Would he be resentful?

He had also worked for the Labor Federation for so many years, and had also made a great contribution and had paid a lot. He had started to fight with everyone when he was in his teens.

Now everyone was beginning to enjoy the rewards of so many years of hard work, but he had become an outsider. Would he be unbalanced in his heart?

Would he vent these emotions through other, unfriendly ways, for example, to reach some deal with their opponents?

So at this critical moment, to shut up was the most important thing.

He shook his shoulders, ran back to his car, but he did not go too far. Soon an ambulance had appeared at the scene. They had put Mr. Walter, whose face had already turned purple, on a stretcher.

From his performance, there was basically no possibility of saving him.

Of course, he had still followed all the way to the hospital. Soon the hospital's side had confirmed that the rescue was ineffective, and had declared him dead.

It was not until he had personally watched Mr. Walter be covered with a white cloth and placed in the morgue that he had come to the street and had given the chairman a call.

"He's free."

"Does he hate us?" the chairman asked.

Vice President Robert said in a low voice, "This is his wish!"

Although he didn't know why someone's wish was for himself to be finished, the chairman still expressed his appreciation for Vice President Robert's work ability, and at the same time, he also reminded him—

"Try not to run around these few days. If anything happens, notify me in time."

Mr. Walter's death did not alarm anyone. Suicide in fear of punishment had become the footnote to the last journey of his life.

Vice President Robert could also be said to have done what he had promised. From the time he had left to the time Mr. Walter had also left the prosecutor's office, it had been less than fifteen minutes.

For this old friend, he no longer had any guilt.

Vice President Robert, including the chairman of the Labor Federation, had thought that the federal government would keep an eye on this matter, and would take the opportunity to find trouble with them, but what they didn't know was that the federal government's attention was not at all here, but in Rapa.

Because Rapa had begun to have a "run."

When Pedro had returned to his hometown, he had already felt that kind of not-so-friendly atmosphere. The road was full of pedestrians carrying grain bags.

The people of Rapa did not have the habit of storing food. The temperature in Rapa had always been the hot and humid type. Although this was a huge land, the sea breeze would still, with the humid air, sweep through the entire continent.

It was only in the central region that the situation was a little better. The Rapa side had always been hot and humid.

Hot and humid meant that things like grain, which easily absorb moisture, would quickly become damp. In addition, the temperature here was always maintained at a temperature suitable for the breeding of bacteria, so if too much food was stored at home, it would easily become moldy and spoil.

Most families would buy food for three days to a week, at a time.

When the food was finished, they would go and buy new food. It had always been like this.

But in these few days, it was said that a granary in the surrounding area had caught fire, and a lot of grain had been burned.

If it was said that a granary being burned down was not enough to make the "grain run" appear, then there was a piece of gossip that the Rapa government had, at a high price, sold more than one million tons of grain, which was originally for sale in the country, to a federal merchant.

As soon as this news came out, the whole of Rapa was shocked!

That was grain, the grain that could let people live!

It was just sold off so easily?

The people of Rapa had not been dissatisfied with the government's possession of a large amount of farmland for just a day or two. Although they were dissatisfied, at least most of this grain would be consumed in the country.

The government's grain price would be a little more expensive than in a grocery store or a grain shop, by 5% to 15%. People would also complain, but it was just a complaint.

As long as this grain was still there, and could be taken out at any time, then a little more expensive was fine!

"We still have grain, it's just a little more expensive" and "we have no more grain" are two completely different concepts!

The panicked people began to rush to buy grain.

Those with a flexible mind had immediately taken their bags and had run to the nearby grain stations or grocery stores to buy all the grain they could buy. Even the tree wheat flour was within their range of panic buying.

A gap of over a million tons of grain. Even if the tree wheat flour was so high-yielding, it couldn't make up for it!

Just as Lance had deduced, for a family to buy a week, or two weeks of grain, it would be enough for them to cope with the current crisis.

But there were always some who had a greater sense of crisis than others. When they bought, they would buy a month's, or even two months' worth of grain.

When someone had found that these people were buying a large amount of grain, their worry had broken out, and they had also begun to buy a large amount of grain. Then soon, the grain stations, the grocery stores, had been bought empty.

A large number of people, holding food bags, but empty, had begun to walk towards the nearby state-owned grain stations, but how could they, from where, conjure up some food to sell to the people?

A terrible situation that people had not yet realized was rapidly brewing!

Pedro's family had returned home. His wife, when she saw him return, had said, "Thank God," and then had thrown herself into his arms.

"We have no more grain!"

"I have been to all the surrounding grocery stores and grain stations. They have no more grain, only some imported foreign snacks. Those things can't fill your stomach at all."

Pedro's expression was very serious. He couldn't believe that they had just received the "training," and a crisis that could shake the very foundation of the rule had immediately broken out!

In his heart, he was vaguely filled with an expectation for this crisis, and at the same time, he was also full of vigilance against Lance, against the federal people!

This was not their country. They were unscrupulously creating this kind of a political incident here, and would not have any sense of guilt, even if more people died!

"I'll go out and have a look. You take care of the children at home."

Pedro had just arrived home and had gone to get his grain bag, a dark brown, double-layered cotton pocket. He had poured out the food inside, and then, with the empty bag, he had gone out.

The street was full of people like him. He wanted to distinguish the current situation, and then to decide where to go.

There were many grocery stores and grain stations around. Just as he had not yet made up his mind, a gunshot suddenly sounded from the street!

He flinched, his body even trembling with fear, and quickly ran into an alley!

It's a gang!

He was cowering and hiding in the alley, and was secretly peeking outside. Soon he had found that in a place about thirty or forty meters away from him, several Rapa men were snatching a food bag from a civilian.

From his position, he could see that the food bag was clearly filled with a lot of food.

The owner of the food bag had been kicked to the ground. He was holding the bag with both hands, as if he were begging.

It was too far from here to hear what he was saying, but from his expression, it could be seen that he must be begging.

His leg seemed to have been injured, and there was a clear lack of coordination, but even so, he had still not given up his food.

Three or four gang members were fighting with him for the bag. Seeing that time was passing by, one of the young men had once again taken out his handgun, and had fired several shots at the person who was lying on the ground.

In an instant, the hand of the person who was being robbed had left the bag.

The four of them had, with the food bags on their backs, quickly disappeared into the alley on the side.

The people who had been hiding on the street had come out of their hiding places, including Pedro.

He had subconsciously opened his legs and had walked in front of the man. Looking at the person who had fallen in a pool of blood, who had been shot in the forehead, in the cheekbone, and also twice in the chest, and was completely beyond rescue, his mood was very heavy.

People had already begun to kill for food. This was just the beginning.

He knew it very well.

This was just the beginning!

As an educated, and considered to be a high-level intellectual, a teacher who liked to read books, his first thought at this time was that as long as they could hold on until February, everything would be fine.

Now the yield of wheat per mu was only two bushels, which was 55 kilograms.

But for potatoes, there was already a harvest of 150 to 200 kilograms. These potatoes could solve the problem of people being hungry.

But he had immediately thought that these potatoes would simply not have a chance to be harvested, and would be dug out of the ground and eaten by those who were extremely hungry.

What was even more terrifying was that all of this would inevitably affect next year's spring planting.

Maybe people would eat all the seeds.

Find them from the ground, wash them, and then eat them!