Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 138 Lawson's Series of Trap Arrives
The Fusō! That was the Imperial Navy's first ironclad warship!

They spent a full $1.2 million to pry this treasure out of the British!
From Emperor Meiji to the lowest-ranking farmers, the entire nation tightened its belts, saving every penny, all in order to build an invincible fleet that could dominate East Asia!
The deposit has already been paid, and from the British side, Armstrong Shipyard is sending more demand letters than love letters!
They were just waiting for this batch of raw silk to be sold and the remaining payment to be settled before the Fusang could set sail back home!

Now, the silk is gone, replaced by a bunch of American robbers with a pile of worthless cotton!
"Kawamura-kun!"

Saigo Tsuruji slammed his hand on the floor: "The Kongo is also included in this batch of funds!"

Jun'ichi Kawamura's eye was still twitching violently.

The total value of this batch of raw silk was enough for them to buy Fusang and then order a slightly smaller Kongo-class ironclad warship from Britain.

Now, everything has vanished!

"These bandits!"

Kawamura Jun'yoshi suddenly stood up, his samurai sword clanging loudly: "They are declaring war on the Great Japanese Empire!"

"Calm down, Kawamura-kun!"

The older official said in a deep voice, "Now is not the time to lose your temper. The United States is not North Korea, and we do not yet have the ability to declare war on their land."

Kawamura Junyoshi slammed his fist on the table in anger. Of course he knew!
Damn it, he knows better than anyone else!
That's why we're even angrier!
The empire could rampage through East Asia, but in front of these white pigs, they didn't even have the right to speak loudly!
"Call Kubo Gota back immediately! At all costs! Even if you have to scrape his bones clean, get that silk back for me!"

"Send an emergency response team to the United States immediately!"

"besides."

He turned to Saigo Tsunematsu and said, “Send a telegram to NPC immediately, using the strongest language, and tell them that this is a commercial dispute between nations! They must give the Empire an explanation!”

"Also, call the San Francisco city government and the California governor! Ask them to assist with the investigation!"

In Sousalito, in Kubo Gouta's hotel room.

The telegraph machine vibrated wildly, spewing out Tokyo's thunderous fury.

"At all costs..."

Kubo Gōta stared at the orders on the telegram, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him.

I have no way out now.

He immediately grabbed his coat and rushed out of the room.

NPC Corporation and Latham have clearly shown their thuggish nature; relying on them is like hoping for divine intervention.

Now, his only hope lies in the local laws!

He went straight to the sheriff's office in Marin County.

Sheriff Marcus (the assassin), a burly man as big as a brown bear, is propping up a pair of huge, muddy boots on his desk.

"what's up?"

Marcus didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, only letting out a soft groan through gritted teeth.

Kubo Gota, suppressing his disgust, forced a smile and quickly recounted what had happened.

“One million six hundred thousand dollars, sir, this is a huge theft! I urge the Marin County Sheriff’s Department to open a case and investigate immediately!”

"One million six hundred thousand?"

Marcus finally took off his boots and looked Kubo Gota up and down: "You bunch of Japanese guys, you're really fucking rich."

"One million six hundred thousand, this is really giving me a lot of trouble."

"Do you know how busy I am? Huh? Miller's cow was stolen again on the west side of town. Two idiots died in the Curved Blade Tavern last night. I simply don't have enough manpower."

Kubo Gota's heart sank; this was blatant extortion.

He was trembling all over, half with anger and half with contempt.

This is American law, a bunch of uniformed thugs!
But he has no other choice now.

He took out his wallet and scooped out all the cash inside, about two hundred dollars.

“Sir, this is just a small token of my respect. Please, this shipment is of vital importance to my country.”

Marcus weighed the stack of banknotes in his hand, was fairly satisfied, and then put the money in his pocket.

"Alright, alright, seeing how sincere you are, I, Marcus, will make the trip for you."

He turned around and yelled into the inner room, "Jack, Billy, wake the hell up, come with me on this call!"

Several equally burly police officers emerged, yawning.

"Don't worry, my Japanese friend. There's no case I, Marcus, can't solve. We'll do our best to get it back for you."

After saying that, he led his group of police officers, who looked more like bandits than bandits themselves, onto their horses and rode away.

Kubo Gota stared at the backs of the group, a profound sense of powerlessness enveloping him.

This group of people seems unreliable no matter how you look at it. Can they really get themselves back?

"Chief, are we really going to find silk for those little Japanese?"

On the galloping horse, a young police officer turned around and asked.

"Find my ass! That thing weighs 260,000 pounds! Tell me how the hell are we supposed to find it? Do you think we can afford to mess with someone who can make that much cargo disappear in one night?"

The officers burst into laughter.

"So where are we going now?"

"Old rules!"

Marcus yanked the reins: "Let's take a detour to Miller Farm first and see if any of those local bastards dare cause trouble. Then we'll head to Scimitar! Damn it, all the drinks today are on the Japanese Empire's head, hahahaha!"

……

San Francisco, California Street.

The top-floor offices of Rutham Bank.

This place is a world apart from the filthy docks of Sosalito.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows is a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay Area.

But the office's owner, the real boss of NPC Company, was in a worse mood than the gutter at the dock.

"Aaron Bryant! That piece of trash whose brain is filled with whores and whiskey!"

Latham paced back and forth in his office, his face green with rage.

"Damn it, how dare he? How dare he let something like this happen? That's 1.6 million!"

"gentlemen……"

His blonde, blue-eyed secretary, Alice, stood nervously to the side.

"The Japanese consulate just sent a very strong telegram, demanding that we provide an explanation immediately."

Latham sneered and sat back down at his desk.

There was also a telegram on the table, not from Tokyo, but from New York, from his creditor bank.

"Screw the explanation."

This month, he alone has a bond worth as much as $500,000 maturing.

The bank has already started urging us to pay.

His cash flow was so tight it was like a string about to snap.

Forget 1.6 million, right now, he's not even willing to pay 160,000!

"Alice."

"Yes, sir?"

"Reply to the Japanese and tell them that NPC deeply regrets this accident, but..."

He gave a cold laugh: "A contract is a contract. They chose the cheapest service themselves and refused to buy insurance, so they have to bear the corresponding risks. This is business, not some damn charity!" "Then, what about compensation?"

Alice asked in a low voice.

"Compensation? Give them two thousand dollars, not a penny more, not a penny less, let them sue! I want to see if the judges in California listen to me or a bunch of Japanese devils."

"But, but he is, after all, our dock manager..."

"Correct!"

Latham's expression turned ferocious again: "It's that Aaron Bryant, it's his negligence, his own drinking and dereliction of duty that caused all this!"

“Alice, my dear, this whole thing is Aaron Bryant’s personal responsibility from beginning to end. It has absolutely nothing to do with NPC Corporation or me, Ratsom.”

“If those Japanese dare to cause trouble, we’ll take him to court and hang him in front of all of San Francisco.”

"Sir, you are really..."

"I'm such a genius, aren't I? Hahahaha!"

Latham laughed heartily, finally finding a perfect outlet for his frustration.

He grabbed Alice and pulled her onto the desk.

Come on, baby!

He loosened his belt: "The pressure this month is fucking immense..."

……

Two days later.

Kubo Gota had been waiting so long that he was practically withered; he wandered the streets of Sousalito like a ghost.

There was still no word from Sheriff Marcus.

When he went to the police station again, he was kicked out by the officers who used the excuse that the sheriff was too busy.

On Latham's end, all he received was an arrogant and rude official reply and a check for two thousand dollars.

He finally realized that he had been tricked, completely outmaneuvered by these Americans!
Despair had mercilessly overwhelmed him.

He even began to seriously consider whether he should end it all with a dagger or a revolver...

Just then, there was a knock on the hotel room door.

"Get out of my way! I don't have money for prostitutes!"

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Gota Kubo?"

Kubo was taken aback for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

Two men were standing outside the door.

They were dressed in well-tailored suits; one was holding a notebook, and the other was carrying a camera.

"Mr. Kubo."

The man with the notebook smiled and extended his hand: "I'm Jerry, a reporter for The Globe and Chronicle, and this is my partner, Peter."

"We heard you've run into some serious trouble at the NPC company's docks?"

Kubo Gota stared blankly at them.

The Globe and Chronicle? He'd heard of it; it was the best-selling newspaper in San Francisco, known for its courage in reporting the truth and exposing the dark side.

A glimmer of light suddenly rekindled in his eyes, which had been unfocused!
I thought I was doomed this time, but I never expected that things would turn out so well!
"trouble?"

He gave a dry laugh: "No, gentlemen, that's not trouble, that's robbery, that's corruption! It's American companies shamelessly trampling on international trade!"

"This is a shocking scandal worth $1.6 million!"

Kubo Gōta flung open the door and bowed deeply to the two reporters.

"Please come in, I will tell you everything I know!"

This is his last chance.

He's going to make a huge fuss, turn the world upside down!

Sausalito Pier, Warehouse B.

Gota Kubo is putting on the most explosive performance of his life.

He practically knelt down on the ripped burlap sack: "Ragged trash!"

"They used this to exchange for our empire's raw silk, 1.6 million, 1.6 million silver dollars!"

"Look at this, look at this!"

Kubo Gota practically poked the thin piece of paper into the tall reporter's nose.

On that piece of paper, Aaron Bryant's scribbled signature and the number $2,000 looked jarring and absurd.

"A compensation statement, they call this 'fucking compensation'!"

Kubo Gouta's tears flowed freely, half from genuine fear and half from a desperate performance.

"This is a robbery in broad daylight, and that bastard Aaron won't even see me. They say he'd rather spend his time on Gypsy bitches' bellies than deal with this mess!"

Jerry struggled to pry Kubo's hand open with two fingers and began taking notes in his notebook.

"Sir, please calm down. Are you saying that Aaron Bryant, the manager of NPC, was indulging in brothels while you lost $160 million worth of goods?"

"That's right, everyone on the docks knows about that Gypsy kiss. That bastard will go to hell!"

Peter remained silent, standing a little further away as he fiddled with his camera and began taking pictures.

He didn't photograph the tattered cotton wadding, which was too ordinary; instead, he exquisitely captured Kubo Gouta's extremely distorted face.

The perfect image of a Japanese businessman crushed by Western behemoths leaps off the page.

"Mr. Kubo."

Jerry closed his notebook: "We deeply sympathize with you. Every American has the right to know about the injustice you have suffered."

The two men politely removed their hats in greeting and turned to leave the musty warehouse.

As soon as he stepped out of the warehouse, Jerry's expression of sympathy vanished instantly.

“The draft was already written.” He said to his companion, “Those references to bitches and trash were quite good, carrying a raw sense of anger. Add them, and then vividly depict Aaron Bryant’s dereliction of duty and the chaotic management of NPC Corporation. That’s the effect the boss wanted.”

Peter nodded; he needed to get the photos developed quickly.

This material, along with the telegram, would become the final straw that broke the back of a vast empire.

The next day, the front page of The Globe and Chronicle ignited a firestorm in America.

"A heist worth 160 million, a shocking scandal at NPC Wharf, Japanese silk turned into cotton overnight!"

This report is nothing short of a narrative art extravaganza.

It takes the tragic perspective of Japanese businessman Gota Kubo and describes in detail the bizarre disappearance of $160 million worth of raw silk.

However, the article's true focus is cleverly placed on the internal corruption within NPC Corporation.

The report sharply satirized how Aaron Bryant, the manager, forgot his responsibilities while caught up in his gypsy kiss affair.

Between the lines, the character of a good-for-nothing who is obsessed with women and neglects his duties is vividly portrayed.

"While Mr. Kubo was weeping in the warehouse for his lost national treasure, Mr. Bryant was winning his cheap kingship in a gypsy kiss for a price of one million six hundred thousand dollars."

Then, the focus shifts to the crumbling management system of NPC Company.

"How can a company that can't even guarantee the most basic safety of its goods shoulder the heavy responsibility of transcontinental transportation? Is a board of directors that appoints incompetent managers already rotten from the inside out? Is it really safe to entrust your goods and investments to them?"

(End of this chapter)