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

Chapter 295 Expanding Gang Power: A Request for Help from New York

Larry and Yung Wing discussed the matter at length in Ping An Lane and finally decided that the old gentleman would be responsible for hiring a lawyer, while they would wait for the people from Harvard Law School to arrive before making any arrangements.

Finally, Larry took the checkbook from the National City Bank of New York, wrote a check for $1, and handed it to Yung Wing.

“Please take this money and use it. It’s not just my donation; it can also be considered part of Huang Meitang’s own shares. So please don’t be stingy with it. Spend it as you see fit. Saving lives is the most important thing.”

Yung Wing took the check, looked at it, raised his eyebrows and said, "It's a Citibank check... Not bad, this check would be very useful even on the West Coast or in Hong Kong."

Larry was a little surprised. He only now realized that the National City Bank of New York was what the Chinese called Citibank. In his previous life, he only knew Citibank; perhaps the bank had changed its name.

Larry bid farewell to Yung Wing and left Chinatown with his Italian assistant.

Larry didn't hire a carriage; instead, he strolled toward the convenience store at the train station, asking the clerk questions about the number of stores, profitability in different locations, and other specific details.

The young man was very forthcoming and told Larry everything he knew.

It turns out that during this period, Mr. K had opened convenience stores all over the Greater Boston area, with a total of seven branches, and three branches in other cities.

The expansion of 7-Eleven convenience stores is progressing very smoothly. Mr. K has now established a retail system centered around Italians. At the same time, he has also established an effective logistics system and purchased two delivery wagons; everything is proceeding in a tense but orderly manner.

"I don't know how much profit we'll make, but it seems certain that we'll be profitable. My relatives who are involved in this project all say they've never seen a grocery store be so profitable," the young man told the truth.

Larry nodded, thinking to himself that Mr. K was truly a business genius. This kind of business required exceptional coordination skills and a vast network of connections. Just as Mr. K himself had said, if an ordinary person were to do this kind of business, dealing with the mob would be a headache enough.

Of course, Larry was also aware that Mr. K would certainly make things easier for the Italian mafia during the course of his business dealings.

This is almost unavoidable.

While I was thinking, the young Italian man added, "The two people you sent to Ford Motor Company did a good job. One of them is my cousin; he's already Mr. Ford's personal secretary..."

"Oh? Really! Well, he did a good job. Any news from there?" Larry had almost forgotten that he had two undercover agents working for Ford.

My initial plan was to help them rise as high as possible and get as close as possible to Henry Ford, so that I could know as soon as possible if anything happened to him.

Seeing Larry's interest, the young man quickly added ingratiatingly, "My cousin is clever and quick-witted. He's already replaced Mr. Ford's assistant, and now Ford lets him do everything... As for news, there's no news yet. My cousin said that Mr. Ford is currently working hard to optimize and improve the cars, and he wants to reduce the currently extremely high return rate."

"Okay! Give my regards to your older cousin. And if anything happens with Henry Ford, be sure to let me know immediately." Larry patted him on the shoulder encouragingly.

The two returned to the warehouse located not far from the train station square. This was the core storage warehouse of the convenience store and also where Mr. K usually worked.

When Larry arrived, Mr. K was not there; he had reportedly gone to inquire with "his companions."

Larry simply checked the accounts in his office. After a while, the phone on his desk suddenly rang.

A clerk answered the phone, responded a few times, and then turned to Larry, "Sir, it's for you."

"Me? Who called? How did they know I was here?" Larry was puzzled. After answering the phone, he learned that someone had come looking for him and had come directly to the convenience store. The convenience store had originally called Mr. K to ask, but unexpectedly learned that Larry was there.

"Who's looking for me?" Larry asked, frowning.

"He said he was someone you knew, but he didn't say anything else..." came the reply from the other end of the phone.

eccentric……

Larry hung up the phone, picked up his hat, and was about to head to the convenience store at the train station when he saw Mr. K strolling back with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Boss...you're here!" Mr. K saw a smile on Larry's face.

"How's the matter going?"

"Don't worry, I've already started mobilizing them after you gave the instructions... There shouldn't be any major problems. We should be able to find out about that big shot who's been secretly investigating us soon..." Mr. K said confidently.

“Okay! I’m going to the convenience store now, someone’s looking for me there…why don’t we go together?” Larry instructed.

So the two walked side by side toward the train station square.

On the way, Larry asked Mr. K, "Senator Kennedy... how's the expansion of his bubble tea shop going?"

"The senator was able to leverage the power of the Tammany Association, and frankly, he got this done much more efficiently than Logan had been."

Many low-income workers are now making a living through barbecue restaurants and bubble tea shops… That guy has gained a lot of prestige, and that prestige can then be converted into votes. It seems he's really invested in this.”

Mr. K made no secret of his envy and admiration for Kennedy.

After hearing Mr. K's answer, Larry fell silent for a moment, thought for a few seconds, and then asked again.
"There's something I'm not clear about: how did Kennedy, who was just a liquor merchant, suddenly become a senator?"

"Because he used to be a neighborhood leader in the Tammany Association! He used that connection to get in touch with the Democrats, gained the favor of a big shot, and then rose through the ranks," Mr. K said.

"...What is the Tammoni Society?" Larry had heard Mr. K mention this strange name twice.

Mr. K turned to look at Larry, as if surprised that he had asked him such a common-sense question.

However, in the end, Mr. K answered honestly.
"This is a political machine that originated in New York, initially a patriotic community. In recent decades, it has gradually transformed into a grassroots power structure of the Democratic Party. Its core function is the so-called protection of community safety."

For example, they might offer security services, help people find jobs, and do some firefighting and street cleaning work. Of course, this is just a front; in reality, they do all sorts of shady jobs.

Larry realized that this "community mutual aid association" was actually a means for the Democratic Party to control grassroots communities.

Mr. K continued to explain, “Of course, here in Boston it’s called the Irish Mutual Aid Society. It was previously controlled by former Boston Mayor Collins. Later, Kennedy got in touch with Collins and became the de facto controller. He’s grown bigger here step by step because he controls the Irish community in New England.”

"You can handle both the legitimate and criminal worlds, right?" Larry chimed in.

“That’s right! The senator’s influence has already reached the police station. Logan’s father is like a mouse before a cat when he sees him.” Mr. K smiled. Larry nodded silently. Mr. K, being such a clever man, immediately saw the problem from Larry’s reaction. “Is it that Kennedy is unwilling to help?”

“Yes, he wants that Chinese man dead to quell the Irish anger.” Larry nodded coldly.

Mr. K frowned. "That's not a good situation, since the dead man was Irish. He has to be responsible for his network of connections."

Larry stopped and turned to look at him. "Old K, do you have any ideas? How about developing a 'community mutual aid' system here among Italian immigrants?"

Mr. K also stopped abruptly, looking at Larry with astonishment on his face. "Boss, you mean..."

“We can’t let others lead us by the nose. When I created the convenience store and bubble tea chain, I was trying to unite a group of people at the grassroots level… To be honest, I now regret handing over the bubble tea and barbecue businesses to Kennedy… But you have to manage the convenience store business well!”

Larry looked into Mr. K's eyes, his gaze conveying a thousand unspoken words.

“…But I have no way to challenge the Tammoni Association; my status is much lower…” Mr. K’s gaze was somewhat evasive.

"No, I'm not asking you to challenge or replace anyone. You need to understand the essence of this: weaving an invisible network of interests to make immigration police and grassroots politicians our outsourced teams... just like how you're asking those gangsters to gather information now."

Larry said solemnly to Mr. K.

Mr. K thought for a few seconds, then suddenly realized. He nodded to Larry and said, "I understand now that you mentioned the word 'outsourcing.' It means turning them into our allies. We share the profits, and they do the dirty work when it matters."

"Yes, that's it. Wherever our convenience stores open, this network will follow. We won't skimp on 'protection money,' but we won't passively pay it. Instead, we'll use the money to form alliances with them."

As he spoke, Larry leaned closer and said, “We can subcontract the transportation, warehousing, and community development businesses to your friends as appropriate. We’re doing legitimate business, but we also need to have our own reach.”

"Understood, boss, it's true. As long as you nod, I can do it." Mr. Wei's face showed joy.

"The key is, can you do this well? It must be done discreetly, and at the same time, we can't let those dark allies see our weaknesses. Otherwise, we might fail and they might end up replacing us..." Larry looked at Mr. K with seriousness.

Mr. K smiled excitedly. "Boss, you can rest assured about this. We Italians value family honor, loyalty, and silence."

Moreover, gangs originate from profit. As long as there's money and things are relatively fair, we can form alliances with anyone. The Italian Brotherhood will welcome your investment plans, and as for me, rest assured, I can handle it.”

Larry nodded, looking at the excitement on Mr. K's face, but in his heart he was thinking that he not only needed to have open attacks but also covert ones.

Wherever convenience stores open in the future, this kind of network that can attract local relationships should also be established there.

The only concern is the loyalty of this network. But that's alright, that's a problem for later. I still need to reorganize Lone Star Security Company, using legitimate private armed forces in the US as an additional layer of insurance.

Larry and Mr. K arrived at the convenience store at the train station and immediately spotted an "acquaintance" who had come to see them—Samuel, an old friend from Paine Weber Securities.

Samuel still had that blank look on his face. Upon seeing Larry, he spoke in a serious tone.
“My uncle is looking for you. He said you must be at the convenience store, so he sent me to find you. He wants you to go to the securities company right away.”

Larry raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Wallace wanted to see me? Is there something you need?"

“I don’t know! You’ll find out when you get there. He seemed very anxious…” Samuel finished speaking, picked up his hat, waved to Larry, and walked away on his own.

Larry thought to himself that Samuel was still so clueless about social niceties. But how did Mr. Wallace know that he had returned to Boston? And what did he want to see him about?

Larry turned to Mr. K and instructed him, "Take care of the convenience store's accounts, and then tell me about your future plans for opening the store. Remember what I just told you; we'll meet again in a bit."

After giving his instructions, Larry left the convenience store and hailed a horse-drawn carriage to Paine Weber Securities Company.

Larry's appearance at the brokerage office caused a minor stir. His former colleagues already regarded him as a legend, and the fact that Larry had received a personal award from Mr. Weber, the vice president of the brokerage firm in New York, had become the most talked-about topic among them.

His former colleagues all took time out of their busy schedules to come and say hello to him.

After Larry answered with a smile, he went to Mr. Wallace's office.

The office door was open, and Mr. Wallace was fidgeting inside. When he saw Larry walk in, his face immediately lit up with joy.

“Larry Livingston, oh my God, I’ve finally waited for you.” Mr. Wallace took two steps forward, grabbed Larry’s arm, pulled him into the office, and closed the door behind him.

"Mr. Wallace, why are you in such a hurry to see me?" Larry cut to the chase.

"I'm looking for you? No, no, you should know, half of New York City is looking for you. Do you know how famous you've become lately?" Mr. Wallace's face was grave.

This time it was Larry's turn to be surprised. "Who's looking for me? Is it really that serious?"

Mr. Wallace nodded and lowered his voice to say, "It's Mr. Stillman, the president of the National City Bank of New York. I don't know the specifics, but he insists on seeing you... He's asking Mr. Porter for your whereabouts, and Mr. Porter has entrusted me with this..."

"Stillman? The president of Citibank? What does he want with me?"

A host of questions quickly surfaced in Larry's mind.

Larry pondered for a few seconds, then suddenly seemed to realize something and turned to Wallace. "Sir, did Mr. Porter say that he contacted me about stocks?"

Mr. Wallace nodded. “Absolutely, my God, you wouldn’t believe it, GE’s stock price is skyrocketing lately. Tomorrow is the last day for those short sellers who went short on Saturday to settle their positions. Everyone in the market knows that Mr. Morgan is reaping the profits from those short sellers… They’ve all chosen not to sell their shares; they want the short sellers to die…”

Larry instantly understood why Citibank President Stillman was looking for him; Stillman was one of the culprits behind the short selling of General Electric, and Larry had previously lent them his 8,000 shares.

They must have shorted a huge amount of money and are now stuck. But they don't want to die; they want a "death sentence with a reprieve" from themselves.

Having figured this out, Larry frowned again. What should he do? They definitely wanted the 3 shares he held…

Should we let them go, or wait until they're dead and then make more money?
Larry hesitated.

After thinking for a few seconds, Larry made a decision—not to rush into a choice, but to let the other party make an offer first!
(End of this chapter)