Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 140 Reconciliation (4.6k views, please vote)
At four o'clock in the afternoon, Charles Francis Adams II had just come out of Capitol Hill when he saw a tall, burly man standing at the entrance of Capitol Hill, waiting for him.

Adams frowned, feeling a little unhappy.

His backyard is on fire today. The Boston Metropolitan Casino and his own Rothschild gang were deliberately manipulated to drive up the price of American Sugar stock. If those bets are paid out, Metropolitan will definitely go bankrupt, and he will also lose his most profitable business.

That damn Monk Rothstein, he can't handle this himself, he actually had to come all the way to Washington, D.C. to find me...

Wouldn't this just cause trouble for myself? What if my political enemies or reporters photographed me meeting with this notorious gangster boss?

Meanwhile, Adams also heard that the tabloids were spreading rumors that he had orchestrated the assassination of Senator Patrick Kennedy, also from Massachusetts. They claimed that he was responsible for Senator Kennedy's assassination attempt on the streets of Washington; the tabloids also said that this was not the first time such an assassination attempt had occurred, and that Senator Kennedy had been targeted twice while in Boston!

Isn't this utter nonsense? I swear to God, I absolutely did not do this to Washington!
Adams even suspected that Kennedy had orchestrated the whole thing, a self-inflicted injury!
The other side is checkmating him; this is a counterattack from that damn redhead!

Anger occasionally flashed in Adams' eyes.

But for now, there's no other way. If they allow Kennedy to use this incident to stir up trouble, they'll be in an even more passive position later...

Even the Adams family would be ashamed of it.

Thinking of this, Charles Adams II felt somewhat exhausted, realizing that he could only pretend to visit Kennedy and hear his offer...

But there were still people waiting to see him...

But we can’t avoid meeting this person. He’s capable, quick-witted, and has a good reputation. He’s truly a rising political star in the Republican Party!

Adams suppressed all the chaotic thoughts in his mind, smiled, and extended his right hand to greet the burly man waiting in front of him, saying, "Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting!"

The tall, strong man was Theodore Roosevelt, 34 years old, and currently a member of the U.S. Civil Service Commission appointed by President Harrison, responsible for the appointment and dismissal of civil servants in the national administrative agencies and for promoting reforms to the civil service examination system.

(Theodore Roosevelt)
Theodore Roosevelt hurried forward, shook hands with Mr. Adams, and sincerely said,

"Mr. Adams, it is an honor to meet you. I had previously made an appointment with your secretary to ask you about your personnel appointment and dismissal system for such a large organization when you were president of Union Pacific. Your ability to lead a team of tens of thousands of people to build the transcontinental railroad across the United States in a short period of time is an achievement that will be remembered in history!"

Adams smiled, but a look of hesitation appeared on his face.

“You did have an appointment, but unfortunately, my friend, Senator Kennedy, also from Boston, was assassinated this morning, and I need to rush to the hospital to see him…”

Theodore Roosevelt frowned, thought for two seconds, and asked, "But your experience is very important for promoting reform of the American executive branch. How about this, I'll go with you to see His Excellency Kennedy, and after we're done with this, you can share your experience with me!"

Adams wore the same smile as before, but in his heart he was cursing Roosevelt to the core.

The reason wasn't just that this guy was blind to the truth, but also his relentless drive to achieve his goals, which I found utterly repulsive...

But Adams couldn't refuse, since he had already agreed to it.

After hesitating for a few seconds, Mr. Adams said calmly, "How about this, you ride in the same carriage with me, and when we get there, if it's inconvenient for you to go see him, I'll go see him, and you can wait for me in the carriage, is that alright?"

Theodore Roosevelt nodded. "Alright, we'll do it your way!"
.
Forty minutes later, Adams and his two assistants arrived at Kennedy's hospital room.

Adams looked at the hospital corridor and room doors with disgust, took out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose, and then asked his assistant to knock on the door.

"Click," the door opened.

A man who looked like a bodyguard frowned as he looked at the three people in front of the door, a serious expression on his face, and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

The assistant respectfully gestured to Mr. Adams behind him and replied, "Mr. Adams has come to see Mr. Kennedy in person..."

The bodyguard hesitated for a moment, then turned to look at Adams, whose hair was graying, who was following behind him, and said in a cold voice, "Wait a minute..."

As he spoke, he slammed the door shut.

Adams's face darkened. No one had ever dared to be so rude to him, let alone a mere bodyguard...

Two minutes later, the bodyguard opened the door again, made way for Adams, and said, "Mr. Kennedy invites you in, but only if you are alone!"

Adams bit his lip, but still agreed. He instructed his men to stand guard outside, and then, carrying his cane, he walked into the ward step by step.

When he entered the ward, he immediately saw Patrick Kennedy leaning against the bed without any regard for his image, smiling at him.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Adams!” Kennedy said with a smile, while giving his bodyguards a wink, and the two bodyguards left the room.

Suppressing his disgust, Adams took the handkerchief in his hand, slowly walked to Kennedy's bedside, sat down, and said with a frown,
"Senator, don't you think what you're doing is very...uncultured?"

Adam deliberately emphasized the word "manners," which was both a satire of Kennedy and an outlet for his own anger.

Kennedy smiled, still leaning against the headboard, and said calmly, "Yes, I have no manners... but your order to plant a bomb in my bar must be a family tradition passed down from the Adams family!"

Adams was furious. "You're lying! You have no evidence!"

Kennedy pursed his lips, pulled a photograph from his inner suit pocket, and tossed it to Adams.

Adams looked down and saw a man lying half-dead on the ground, his face covered in blood. His face turned deathly pale!
Kennedy laughed and said, "You know what, Mr. Adams, his voice was quite distinctive; I never forgot it after hearing it just once! I'm very grateful for his warning, which saved me from the bomb attack!"

Adams looked uneasy, and after a while, he said slowly, "So your attack on the Metropolitan Gaming House today is an attack on me?"

Kennedy smiled, took out a cigar from his pocket, and gestured for the other man to have one. After Mr. Adams coldly refused, Kennedy lit one for himself.

Exhaling a puff of smoke, Kennedy smiled and said, "...I was startled by the explosion that day, and I was also hit by a car. I should at least get some medical expenses back, right?"

Adams blushed and muttered under his breath, "Despicable! Taking advantage of today..."

"Isn't the tariff exemption for sugar something you've always been pursuing? I couldn't attend today, but I'm sure the bill will pass, right? Then it's only natural that the price of sugar in the United States will rise!" Kennedy interrupted him with a smile.

Mr. Adams remained silent for a long while before finally saying, "Alright, you win this round! But there's still a long road ahead..."

Kennedy nodded, took a small notebook from his pocket, opened it to the page, and read aloud, "Your brother, Henry Adams, is a renowned American historian, currently in London; your son, Charles Adams III, is studying at Harvard and lives..."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Adams flew into a rage, slammed his hand on the hospital bed, and stood up. "You shameless bastard! If you dare to set your sights on them, I'll make you pay!"

Patrick Kennedy sneered, took a puff of his cigar, slowly exhaled the smoke, closed the notebook, and patted it with one hand.

Mr. Adams, his face contorted with rage like a medieval bronze demon, pointed at Kennedy and said, "Your father was shot dead by customs like a stray dog ​​while smuggling whiskey in Boston Harbor... Is this the only underhanded tactic you can use now?"

Patrick Kennedy turned his head toward Adams, his eyes piercing.

A deathly silence filled the air, thick with the smell of disinfectant. After a while, Kennedy suddenly chuckled softly, a chilling laugh. Then, he ripped open his shirt, revealing an old but gruesome wound.

“Look! This is a scar I got when I was 16 and got into a fight at the dock. I almost met my maker! But I survived, didn’t I? From that moment on, I knew that God and the Virgin Mary were on my side. I’m never afraid of any threats. If you want to keep playing tricks on me, then we’ll fight to the death. I’d like to see who has more people to worry about, you or me.”

Mr. Adams, his face flushed and his forehead shiny, shouted, “Don’t coerce me! If you dare to do that, I will inform the whole of your atrocities, and you will not only be hanged, but your reputation and everything you have will be ruined!”

"Oh! Right, I almost forgot, there's also the press!" Kennedy continued with a cold smile.
"Then why don't I also expose them, telling them how many Chinese laborers died during Union Pacific's rushed construction of the railway. Not only did they not receive compensation, but some were even never found. You were the president of Union Pacific back then, surely you know about these things?"

Adams' face turned pale. This was exactly what he had been trying to hide: when he was president of Union Pacific, many people had indeed died during the construction of the railroad.

Some Chinese laborers were thrown into the valley after they died...

Seeing that Adams remained silent, Kennedy clicked his tongue and said, "I've heard that under every sleeper of the railroad to the West Coast lies the soul of a Chinese laborer... For many years, you've suppressed this information from the outside world, but if I were to reveal this to the media, Adams' descendants would once again be famous throughout the world!"

Adams' face turned deathly pale. He slumped into his chair and whispered, "Tell me, what do you want?"

Kennedy looked at him coldly and uttered a single word, “Reconciliation! I just want a good life, to watch my children grow up. Boston is big enough for both of us to exist at the same time. I know you don’t like me, but please remember, I welcome fair competition, but if you resort to underhanded tactics, you might not be able to outmaneuver me…”

Adams pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Okay!"

Kennedy continued, "As compensation, I also want $100 million..."

Adams suddenly looked up and glared fiercely at Kennedy.

The latter laughed and said, "Either I'll make you pay the Metropolitan Casino's million dollars, or I'll leak the news about the Chinese laborers to the press. You can choose one!"

Adams swallowed hard, and finally said resentfully, "Fine!"

"Remember, I want gold coins, not dollars! If there's a problem with the transfer and you close the casino, I won't have anywhere to launder the money..."

Adams nodded emphatically again and said, "Yes! Mr. Kennedy, may I go now?"

Kennedy smiled, slowly exhaling the smoke from his cigar, and said with a smile, "Peace! Peace is very precious. If you don't provoke me, I won't provoke you. Please remember this sacred oath."

Adams' face darkened, and he turned and walked out.

"Wait, Mr. Adams!"

Adams paused abruptly upon hearing Kennedy's words, then turned around and asked, "Is there anything else?"

Kennedy drew a circle in the air with his cigar and said, "...With such a big incident in Washington, I have to give the police department an explanation, don't I?"

Adams immediately understood Kennedy's meaning and nodded, saying, "He'll be in Washington, D.C. at midnight!"

After speaking, Mr. Adams walked out of the ward with a sullen face.

"Thank you, Mr. Adams!" Kennedy's voice of thanks came from inside the room before the door closed, but the sound was cut off by the door.

Adams went straight downstairs without saying a word. His two assistants exchanged glances and hurriedly followed him downstairs.
.
At midnight that night, the train from New York to Washington stopped at the train station.

Monk Rosstein and his four companions got off the train and hurried to the exit.

It was the deepest part of the night. A few gas lamps cast a bright orange glow in the small square of the station. All around was silent, except for a horse-drawn carriage parked on the edge of the square.

Monk Rosstein and his four young companions looked left and right until a man stepped out of the carriage and asked,
"Is this Mr. Rosstein? Mr. Adams sent me to pick you up."

Monk Rosstein nodded and waved to his men, "Get in the carriage... I knew Mr. Adams would come to pick us up!"

The man smiled and opened the door, letting all five of them board the carriage. He then sat beside the coachman in the driver's seat and turned to Monk Rostan, saying...

"Sir, Mr. Adams has asked us to take you to a secluded place. He's being watched and can't risk coming out to see you!"

“Okay!” Monk Rostan nodded.

As the carriage started moving, Monk Rosstein felt a little irritated. He took out a piece of paper, which his brother had given him before he left New York. It contained intelligence he had gathered from Boston.

"It was Kennedy's men after all... Intelligence indicates that they were all their people in disguise, placing orders with the betting companies."

"Monk Rosstein muttered."

He was sitting opposite four young men, none of whom dared to speak. They all knew that their leader was in a bad mood, and none of them dared to provoke him.

Monk Rothstein continued watching by the occasional glimmer of gaslight from outside, muttering to himself,

"That kid who went to the Metropolitan branch before was called 'High-Stakes Gambler Kid,' and someone saw him at the Pyramid Casino... Who the hell is this guy?"

Monk Rosstein frowned and looked at his men, asking, "Have you heard of any high-stakes gambling kid?"

"...No, boss!" the four of them said in unison.

Monk Rosstein muttered, "...He's a nobody, but he might be connected to that defector Henry Williams. I'll find that brat once I'm free! Damn it, the whole world is against me!"

The four young men still dared not speak...

Just then, the carriage stopped, and the man next to the coachman said with a smile,

"Mr. Rosstein, we've arrived at your destination!"

As he spoke, he jumped off the carriage.

Monk Rothstein glanced out the window; it was pitch black all around. He muttered, "Where the hell is this? Mr. Adams is fucking weird."

As he spoke, he pushed open the carriage door and jumped off.

Under the pale moonlight, all was quiet. The coachman and the people who had come to greet them were gone...

Monk Rosstein was startled and quickly reached for the pistol hidden inside his clothes...

At the same time, gunshots rang out all around!

(End of this chapter)