Empire of Shadows

Tom was a talented individual.

He came from a middle-class family; his father was a lawyer, and his mother was a doctor.

Even among the middle class, their family conditions were considered upper-middle tier.

From birth, he displayed intelligence beyond the average person, which easily earned him invitations from Alliance institutions and formal admission into university.

Before entering university, he had always been in the spotlight: excellent grades, outstanding appearance, a look that conformed to the aesthetic standards of the Federation, and everything else!

Often, he would have this idea that he should be the protagonist of his own life—brilliant, radiant, and admired.

Until the moment he entered university!

Many people said that joining an Alliance institution could change one's life, and indeed, it changed his.

He realized his own "mediocrity."

Just as he was entering school and thinking about how to change his future through study, he became aware of the children of various levels of councilors, mayors, governors, and even ministers, as well as the children of wealthy capitalists.

Often, studying can only change you from kneeling to bending over; if you want to stand up straight, with a straight spine, studying alone cannot achieve that.

There were sons of law firm shareholders who would enter prestigious law firms for internships upon graduation, and sons of medical group investors who would enter renowned hospitals for internships upon graduation.

There was the son of a senator who could enter the presidential palace as an intern before even graduating, and a young entrepreneur who could take his father's million-dollar funding to start a business!

But this dazzling, shining, and radiant stage had no place for him because he did not belong to this circle.

At the same time, he also discovered that these people, destined for success, could not accomplish anything alone.

Whether it was interning at the presidential palace or directly using money to start a business, they all needed talent, people who could help them.

And that was the opportunity for these "geniuses" who changed their "fate" through study.

Through learning, they gained the opportunity to serve the powerful; their most important task in school was no longer studying but how to please some of these people and become their followers.

When these people graduated and embarked on their journey filled with spotlights and praise, they could take them along for a while.

Realizing this, Tom was frustrated because he was no longer the protagonist of his own life; he was just a supporting character.

But he quickly recognized the reality and changed his approach. He used his abilities to connect with the son of Senator Cleveland, and in several interactions, he made Senator Cleveland aware of his outstanding abilities.

After graduating from university, he got an opportunity to work in the state senator's office and proved himself again, eventually becoming one of Senator Cleveland's aides.

To call him an aide was really just a secretary who filled in the gaps, but because he and Senator Cleveland's son were alumni, there was a high probability that he could become part of the Cleveland family's "legacy."

Passed down from Senator Cleveland to young Mr. Cleveland.

This was the peak that an ordinary person could reach under normal circumstances. If he was a bit luckier, he might get an opportunity to take a position within the party or the government in his forties.

If he could seize this opportunity and do very well, then there was a high probability that his life would enter a sprint stage, but ultimately, it would only be within the state legislature.

His family was not enough to support him to go further.

So-called fairness, equality, freedom—all of these were just slogans used by those who truly possessed them to entice people.

If a federal citizen, an ordinary federal citizen, truly possessed fairness, justice, equality, and freedom, then why would they still be attracted to these words?

Did they want more?

This was not wealth; whether more or less, as long as you had it, everyone was the same.

But in reality, they did not have it, so they were attracted, they emphasized it, they needed it.

Looking at Lance, besides intoxication, his eyes revealed emotion, envy, and jealousy.

When he was twenty, he was still painfully learning to lower his head and flatter those who didn't study as well as him, weren't as good at sports, and didn't look as good as him.

And Lance, at the age of twenty… no, twenty-one, was beginning to interact with people at the level of senators.

Even if it was just being a glove, doing dirty work for them, in Tom's eyes, it was extraordinary!

In this era where black and white were not so easily distinguished, being a glove did not represent the upper limit.

"You're young enough to make people jealous, Lance!" he said, emboldened by the alcohol.

Lance raised his glass and clinked it against his. "I have to thank Senator Cleveland's tolerance; he allowed me to mess around once. I need to thank him."

Tom couldn't help but laugh. "You really know how to talk; you don't seem like someone who hasn't gone to school at all."

At twenty-one, he definitely hadn't gone to university; that was something he could be sure of.

Sometimes, the more successful people like Lance were, the more unfair it felt to those who followed the familiar process step by step.

They were like people cutting in line on the road of life, and there was nothing you could do about them. At the same time, their appearance made all your past efforts meaningless.

Tom needed some alcohol. He picked up his glass and took another sip. "Do a good job for the Boss; that's the only advice I can give you!"

Lance nodded, then took out a manila envelope and handed it over.

Tom sobered up a bit. He looked at Lance, "What's this?"

"A little something."

Tom hesitated and opened the envelope. Inside was a ten-thousand-dollar Parkway Bank cashier's check. With this check, one could directly exchange it for cash at any Parkway Bank, deposit it into a designated account, or withdraw it.

Although the Federation's banking system had not yet evolved to the point of being networked, they had ways to solve the problem of large-sum fund transfers, and that was cashier's checks.

They could be cashed across regions and even across banks.

Seeing this number, Tom's expression changed strangely, very complex.

He stuffed the check back into the envelope and looked at Lance. "I'm just a follower, a secretary."

"The largest sum of money I've ever received is five thousand dollars."

Five thousand dollars was actually quite a bit. Tom's current monthly income from the office was about two hundred dollars.

This money didn't actually come from Senator Cleveland himself because, according to federal law, the federal government did not bear the salary expenses of congressional offices; this needed to be borne by the senators themselves.

But in reality, this money did not need to be borne by the senators themselves because there were companies behind the scenes that specialized in doing this.

Besides the salary, there might be some other benefits. The annual income was at most three thousand dollars.

The rest was the gray income, which was the real big money.

Senator Cleveland's team of aides had about fifteen people, and occasionally, it would be expanded based on their job content, with a maximum of more than thirty people.

Tom could only be considered… in the middle.

Above him were two chiefs of staff, and then there was a "chief aide" without a formal title, and then it was their turn.

If calculated by position, he might rank sixth to eighth.

Half of the gray income went to the two chiefs of staff and the chief aide, and then whoever was specifically responsible for something would get it.

Most of the time, the benefits Tom received were only one or two thousand dollars. The most he ever received was five thousand dollars, while the chiefs of staff, even though they were not responsible for specific work, could receive the same or even more income than him.

Lance's money was the largest income he had encountered since he started working!

He didn't know whether he should accept it. He wanted it a bit, but he also felt that he wasn't worth ten thousand dollars. It was a very contradictory emotion.

He was happy that Lance could give so much money, but he was also sad about his own "cheapness."

Lance still seemed a bit drunk. "Tom, I never look at how much a person is worth now, but at their future!"

"In my eyes, your future starts at ten thousand dollars. Now I'm giving it to you; if you accept it, it's like I'm taking advantage."

"Maybe before long, ten thousand dollars won't even be in your eyes."

"Besides, we're friends!"

Tom couldn't help but laugh after listening. "You're too good at talking, Lance."

He took another sip of his wine, but his eyes remained on the manila envelope.

After a long while, he heavily exhaled. "Alright, I accept your kindness."

He put the manila envelope into his briefcase. "Actually, you don't need to give me anything; I'll take care of you anyway because helping you is the same as helping the senator."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "This matter is actually very easy to do; you don't have to worry about any impact or anything like that, as long as you can do your job well and don't cause trouble."

"Then no one can touch you!"

When he said these words, there was a hint of arrogance on his face. The police in Gold State were indeed very powerful, but so what?

With just one phone call from him, the problem could be solved!

Yes, the senator didn't even need to make the call himself. That was only needed when the problem was very serious. Usually, just his phone call would do.

He also knew that his phone call worked because of the layer of skin behind it—the senator's aide.

But when he did these things, he still felt happy!

Lance nodded vigorously. "I know what to do."

Tom gave him two numbers. One was the phone number of a prominent lawyer who served the senator. If he needed legal support, this lawyer could help him solve many problems.

The other was the phone number of the police chief of New Gold City. If he encountered some policemen with bad tempers, this phone number would come in handy.

At parting, Tom, already seven or eight parts drunk, said meaningfully, "If this matter is done beautifully, then it can become your ticket."

"If you don't do it so beautifully, then you can only be you, understand?"

Lance had someone send Tom home, while he went to the hotel to rest.

The next morning, he felt a slight headache after waking up. Although the alcohol content of those wines wasn't too high, drinking too much still made him uncomfortable.

He leaned against the headboard. Warm air blew in from the vents, making the entire room very warm and quiet.

Tom's last words last night were probably said because he saw the value of the hundred thousand dollars.

As a 'lackey,' it was only natural to not want other lackeys above him, even if they weren't of the same type.

But under the dual stimulation of alcohol and money, he still said some things.

In fact, even if he hadn't said it, Lance had planned to do it beautifully.

Rushing directly to the home of the CEO and Chairman of the Board of the Ligee Group and killing them was one approach.

Or, creating some plausible accidents that could withstand investigation while also resolving them was also an approach.

The former was too crude, and inevitably some people would find the eating habits of the ultimate beneficiary interest group too unsightly.

But the latter was much more elegant and could also save the senator's face.

When he had new needs next time, then Lance would become one of the alternatives.

The so-called confidant is someone who gradually stands out through one beautiful plan after another.

So, how to elegantly resolve this matter, he needed to use his brain.

A little after ten o'clock, he made a phone call to the vice president, and the two agreed to meet at noon.

The vice president had obtained some "intelligence" from Lance these past few days, which made him full of motivation now!

Who doesn't hope that they can go further?

He also hoped!

This wasn't to say how much he longed to create value and benefits for the shareholders, but that standing in a position like the president could bring him more benefits!

As the channel vendor with the largest market share in the Federal market, and also the largest "storage provider", the Ligee Group also had a strong influence in the futures market.

The Federal Financial Management Committee and the Department of Justice and other agencies have passed legislation to prohibit such companies from manipulating the market by hoarding goods.

But how could so many market free acts be completely supervised, and how could all methods be blocked?

As long as there was one place that wasn't blocked, even if it was just a small operation, it could bring him huge personal benefits.

He attached great importance to Lance's "summons" and arrived early at the agreed location, an indoor shooting club.

Federal people are very enthusiastic about weapons. Whether it was the scalping era or the era of catching runaway slaves, even ordinary people who didn't do anything needed weapons to protect themselves.

This is written into the Constitution. The federal government cannot deprive people of the right to own weapons and use them to protect themselves.

So many people here have weapons, but not everyone can own all weapons, or people want to improve their shooting skills, so there are shooting clubs.

In order to prevent members of the club from being disturbed by each other when playing, the indoor shooting range is very spacious and has good sound insulation equipment, which has also become a good place for some people to discuss things.

No need to worry about being eavesdropped on, and you can also feel the specific performance of "power" by the way.

"Things may have a little change."

Lance chose a 1212 semi-automatic pistol improved version. The caliber became larger, but the ammunition supply of the magazine was reduced a bit.

However, this is obviously more suitable for large-caliber enthusiasts. They don't care whether they have to change a magazine after firing a few shots. What they care about is whether the caliber is large enough.

The vice president was playing with a hunting shotgun. He looked at Lance with some surprise and uncertainty. Just as he was about to say something, Lance pulled the trigger—

Of course, not at him.

The kuangkuang gunshots echoed in the room. After nine consecutive gunshots, Lance put the pistol on the operating table in front of him, his wrist felt slightly vibrating and sore.

The caliber was only a little bigger, but the feeling when shooting was obviously different, and the recoil was significantly increased.

The vice president finally had a chance to speak, "What happened?"

Lance changed to a 991 bolt-action rifle, which is still used by many troops.

Although it has been on the market for thirty years, it is obvious that its life has not yet ended.

Lance pressed the bullet clip into the magazine, then pulled the bolt. He could see the golden bullets being pushed into the chamber. He glanced at the vice president, "We have a new plan."

The vice president was about to open his mouth, but Lance raised his weapon and pulled the trigger at the target thirty meters away.

The recoil of the rifle was obviously greater, and the first shot missed the target.

He remembered an interesting news story he had seen before. A guy who used a rifle for the first time missed all thirty bullets on a fifteen-meter target!

The vice president next to him closed his mouth and waited for Lance to finish firing the bullets before quickly asking, "What new plan?"

Lance rubbed his shoulders and asked Hiram to bring a submachine gun. He glanced at the vice president, "A perfect plan!"

Two minutes later, with the sound of kaka coming from the empty chamber, Lance put the weapon back on the table and walked to the sofa behind with the vice president.

He picked up the coffee and took a sip. The shooting range does not provide alcoholic beverages, for fear that these people will drink too much and shoot the people around them to death, or shoot themselves to death.

The vice president was a little nervous. He had been observing Lance. Lance smiled and put down his coffee cup, pursing his lips, "Don't be so nervous. I have a rather personal question I want to ask you. I hope you can answer truthfully."

The vice president nodded and said, "I will definitely say what I can say."

He thought Lance would ask him how much money he had, or want to get something on him, but the question Lance asked made him a little confused and didn't know how to answer—"Do you know any big shots, like senators, who have a good relationship with you and can stand up for you?"

This made the vice president stunned for a while and a little speechless. He shook his head, "If I knew any big shots who had a good relationship with me and could stand up for me, do you think I would just be a vice president?"

He didn't know what Lance's purpose in asking this question was, and added, "We have some connections with the Agriculture Committee and the Trade Committee, but most of the time I assist from the side."

"The president and other people on the board of directors are mainly responsible for these tasks."