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

Chapter 256 Assassination of Rhodes (Sorry, my sister is getting married these past two days, 4k words)

Tuesday, April 26, 5:30 p.m.

The weather was gloomy, and a thick, salty sea fog, like a gray shroud, tightly enveloped the dock area of ​​Lower Manhattan.

The massive ocean liner "Ocean" had just crossed the Atlantic from London to the east coast of the United States. Like a weary steel behemoth, it slowly approached the dock, its low, hoarse whistle blaring through the fog.

Soon, the mooring lines were dropped, the heavy gangway was erected, and the crew in white uniforms began to busy themselves with helping the guests disembark.

The dock was already bustling with activity. The docks in Lower Manhattan not only handle ocean cruise ships but also ocean cargo ships.

Porters, shirtless and their muscles glistening with oil in the damp air, staggered forward carrying heavy suitcases; customs officials, dressed in crisp uniforms, wore routine indifference on their faces; hotel touts shrieked, trying to squeeze the last bit of profit out of the weary travelers.

Against this backdrop of chaos, clamor, and vibrant life at the bottom of society, a pair of unusually calm eyes pierced through the fog, firmly locking onto the first-class gangway of the "Ocean Star".

Yang Shimozi stood behind the second-floor window of the abandoned warehouse overlooking the entire dock, calmly observing the game he had set up.

Amidst the chaotic crowd at the dock, a small, thin figure went unnoticed. He wore oversized, oil-stained coarse cloth overalls, and a baseball cap pulled low over his head, completely obscuring his face.

The man pushed a handcart loaded with recycled sacks, his movements slightly stiff, blending into his surroundings. Only occasionally, when he glanced up at the "Ocean" cruise ship, a sharp glint flashed beneath his hat brim.

Not far to his side and behind, van der Meier, disguised as an ordinary traveler anxiously waiting for his companion, kept glancing at his pocket watch, waiting for the moment to arrive; his nervousness was not entirely feigned.

The Ocean Cruiser docked as scheduled, and the first-class passengers were preparing to disembark.

Jan Smother stood like a statue, an unlit cigar between his fingers, calmly overlooking the dock. He first looked at Van der Meer, then at the others in the crowd.

The timing of the tides, the evacuation route, the waiting boats... he had rehearsed every detail in his mind countless times.

The plan was flawless.

The only unexpected thing was that, because of the collision with a fishing boat yesterday, which detonated a bomb on board, the number of patrolling police at the dock had doubled, which added many variables to the operation and the subsequent retreat. Shi Mozi looked at the bustling dock and then at the seemingly lax patrolling police in the distance, a hint of gloom on his face.

First-class passengers began to appear. First came a few arrogant businessmen, followed by several elegantly dressed ladies…

Then, Cecil Rhodes appeared.

His tall, slightly overweight body was wrapped in a heavy woolen overcoat, and his face bore the usual mix of weariness and undeniable arrogance.

As he descended the gangway, he was speaking rapidly to his secretary beside him, his brow furrowed, clearly still annoyed by the New York newspapers' attacks on him. Two burly bodyguards, with hawk-like eyes, stood guard between him, one in front and one behind, vigilantly scanning the crowd.

The air seemed to freeze.

Van der Meier spotted Cecil Rhodes immediately. He took a deep breath, casually removed his hat, and gently fanned himself—a pre-arranged signal: target confirmed, proceed as planned.

Below the gangway, more than a dozen carriages were already waiting in the VIP parking area, each awaiting its owner.

Surrounded by bodyguards, Cecil Rhodes strode toward the luxurious, enclosed carriage parked at the dock.

Twenty steps, ten steps, five steps...

The skinny "dockworker" moved! He suddenly dropped the cart, scattering sacks all over the ground! His small figure flashed out of the crowd like a ghost, his steps quick and steady, instantly closing the final few meters to the point of death!

Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his arm, the movement as fluid as a dance. The muzzle of the small, square Schönberger pistol hidden in the gap of the cart drew a cold, hard line in the gray mist, pointing precisely at Rhodes' heart in the back!
He pulled the trigger!

——Crack!
A faint, dry, and absolutely fatal click.

It wasn't the deafening gunshot I'd expected, but the silence of mechanical failure! The sound was faint, yet it was like an ice pick piercing the surrounding air in an instant!

Misfire!

Those small pupils suddenly contracted, and a fleeting, incredulous look of astonishment appeared in their icy blue eyes!

How is this possible?! He's inspected this gun countless times!
This deadly silence lasted for less than half a second!
Rhodes's bodyguards were all handpicked veterans, survivors of the South African war. This unusual, close-up mechanical sound was more stimulating to their nerves than a gunshot!
"Assassin!" A thunderous shout rang out!

The nearest bodyguard had already reacted, his massive body whistling through the air as he pounced like a tiger!

The slender assassin reacted with astonishing speed! He used his toe to lift an old sack and kick it at the bodyguard's face, then used the momentum to retreat quickly in the bodyguard's moment of panic.

But another bodyguard had already drawn a revolver!

"Bang! Bang!"

The bullet whizzed past his ear and struck the wooden crate beside him, sending debris flying!

The dock erupted in chaos! Screams, cries, and the urgent whistles of the police mingled together as the crowd scattered like a frightened herd of animals, creating even greater chaos!
"Jump into the sea!"

A hoarse yet clear roar came from the window on the second floor of the warehouse, piercing through the chaotic noise!
In the half-second of shock that followed, Shi Mozi was the only one whose mind was still racing. The moment he saw "Shadow" being intercepted, he knew the assassination attempt had completely failed. Any further fighting would only lead to death. He immediately roared out the last, and only, order that could still be carried out!

"Shadow" heard it! Without any hesitation, he turned and rushed towards the edge of the dock! Behind him were the bodyguards' roars and more chaotic footsteps!
"boom!"

Another gunshot rang out! This time, the assassin couldn't completely dodge! A bullet pierced the muscle of his right shoulder! A tearing pain shot through him, he groaned, stumbled, and almost fell! But "Shadow" steadied himself with astonishing willpower!

He rushed to the edge of the dock, ignoring the murky, churning, and icy seawater below, and jumped in!
thump!
Water splashed everywhere, and the gray seawater completely swallowed him.

The biting cold felt like a thousand needles piercing her body instantly, and the excruciating pain in her wounds became even more acute under the stimulation of the cold water. She held her breath, letting the jammed Schönberger pistol slide into the sea, and struggled to shake off her heavy work jacket and hat, revealing her short, golden hair soaked in the river and her agile figure.

Like a fish, she endured the excruciating pain and, relying on her powerful swimming ability, struggled to dive away from the dock. On the dock, chaos reigned. The arriving police quickly cordoned off the area, and the bodyguards, furious, pointed to a string of foam rising from the sea, waiting for the assassin to appear. But no one emerged from the water; instead, a pool of red blood rose to the surface.

Cecil Rhodes quickly slipped into the carriage under heavy guard. His face was pale, but his eyes didn't flash with fear; instead, they gleamed with a chilling, enraged sneer. He didn't look towards the sea, but instead glanced through the carriage window at the second floor of the warehouse where the "jump into the sea" order had just been given.

Van der Meier had originally planned to distract the police if "Shadow" encountered danger, but the assassination attempt failed. He then abandoned the plan, stood up, and took advantage of the chaos at the dock to leave.

At the window of the abandoned warehouse, Yang Shimozi's fingers were gripping the cold window frame so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the force.

His perfect plan, every meticulously calculated step, ultimately failed because of a faulty bullet and a one-in-ten-thousand mechanical malfunction. They could have used a more reliable revolver, but Smokers, fearing Cecil Rhodes would be wearing multi-layered bulletproof vests, temporarily switched to the newly released American semi-automatic Schönberger pistol. But unexpectedly, this damned lever-action semi-automatic pistol jammed on its very first shot!
Shi Mozi knew this wasn't the time for sentimentality, and that his command to 'jump into the sea' would be heard by others. He immediately turned and disappeared into the shadows of the warehouse.

……

An hour later, it was completely dark.

Logan whistled as he walked down the cobblestone streets of Greenwich Village.

The hazy, ambiguous glow of the gas lamps in the fog shrouded this neighborhood, a gathering place for immigrants, artists, and all sorts of marginalized figures, in a veil of mystery.

The streets were lined with open-air cafes. A man wearing a feathered hat was playing the accordion, and several people leaned against the seats, watching his performance while warding off the chill of the spring night. A newsboy was going from table to table asking people if they wanted to read the evening paper.

The newsboy, who had just approached the man at the street-side coffee table, was rudely shooed away. Logan didn't seem to care, letting the newsboy, who was muttering curses under his breath, walk past the table.

But at that moment, a cold hand suddenly grabbed Logan's hand.

Logan was startled and looked down, only to see that the man who had just chased away the newsboy had grabbed him. Then, the man raised his head, his face as pale as paper under the brim of his hat.

"Anna? Anna Herder!"

Logan instantly recognized the uninvited guest's face; it was the French woman he had encountered in Greenwich Village and at Morgan Bank. Only then did Logan notice the woman's icy hand trembling uncontrollably.

"Take me away..." Anna said weakly.

Logan was stunned for a moment, but then he reacted quickly and nervously helped Anna up. He immediately felt her lean against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder.

Logan's cheeks suddenly felt burning hot, but he realized it wasn't his imagination; it was coming from Anna's forehead—she had a fever…

Logan's mind went blank. He was still holding his briefcase in one hand, but he held Anna tightly as she was about to fall, and caught her.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked in a low voice.

"Take me to you, to your place first..." Anna's voice was barely audible.

Logan's face flushed genuinely this time, and he felt incredibly guilty. He quickly helped her walk slowly towards his apartment. Just as they left the coffee table, the coffee shop owner called out to him, "Hey, you haven't paid yet!"

Logan quickly pulled a 50-cent coin from his pocket, tossed it onto the coffee table under the other person's suspicious gaze, and helped Anna continue walking.

The two walked about 200 meters, stumbling along the muddy path, until they reached Logan's apartment.

Logan could sense that the woman was extremely weak; if he hadn't been supporting her, she might have collapsed on the street at any moment. But he could also feel the warmth emanating from her forehead and her breath, and a scent mixed with the woman's fragrance and a faint smell of blood occasionally wafted into Logan's nostrils.

Logan's apartment was on the second floor, and Anna was too weak to lift her legs. Logan practically carried her into his room and put her on his bed.

Anna Herder had just lay down on her side when she suddenly cried out in pain and hurriedly moved her right shoulder away.

At this moment, Anna's wide dress opened as she lay on her back, revealing her still damp undergarments and the gruesome wound on her right shoulder.

Anna had a wound on her shoulder, the dark red scab had just formed, but it was broken open by the struggle, and blood was still oozing from the wound.

Logan was momentarily at a loss, and quickly bent down to ask, "Hey, how did you get shot? Do you need me to get a doctor?"

Anna weakly opened her eyes and looked at Logan, whispering, "...Don't let the police know, find someone who can treat gunshot wounds, keep it a secret...I can only trust you now, I hope I've made the right bet, Logan Stone..."

After speaking, she turned her head and fainted.

Logan stood there, stunned. In his entire life of over a decade, he had never encountered anything like this: a woman with a gunshot wound collapsed on his bed, pleading for help…

Fortunately, Logan's father was at the police station. After a brief moment of confusion, he knew what to do in this situation: find a semi-underground doctor to treat the gunshot wound. The problem was, Logan had no idea where to find such a specialized doctor in New York.

However, one person immediately flashed into his mind—Mr. Dunbar!
He's a seasoned veteran; he must know how to treat gunshot wounds.

Logan rushed out of the room, then hurriedly returned, carefully covering the door behind him. He then dashed downstairs to the nearest billiards club with a telephone and quickly called the front desk of the Astor Hotel.

Hearing a polite greeting on the phone, Logan quickly called out, "Hello, connect me to room 406!"

The other party smiled and agreed, and the dial tone immediately came from the other end of the phone.

After another long five seconds, someone answered the phone.
"Hello, who is this?" Mr. Dunbar's wary voice came through the phone.

“Mr. Dunbar! Oh, thank God, it really is you… Could you please come to my apartment in Greenwich Village right away…” Logan said urgently.

"Yes! It's extremely urgent, you must come right away... It would be best to bring some medical supplies, the kind of serious wounds that the workers in the south city had to treat... You must come immediately, there can be no delay!"

(End of this chapter)