Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 93 What is VIP, what is SVIP?
Henderson had lived for 62 years and had never felt so frustrated.

He sat on the porch of the manor, a smoky Havana cigar dangling from his lips, chewing it fiercely.

Not far away, next to the stables.

Several White Tiger security guards in black uniforms were changing shifts.

These people acted swiftly and efficiently, without uttering a single unnecessary word.

Henderson stared at the Winchester rifle magazine, checked the horses' saddles, and handed over the patrol logs, his heart still bleeding.

He's been heartbroken ever since he signed that B+ risk, double-priced security agreement for the Golden Tiger three days ago.

These white tigers are so professional it's outrageous.

The day after the contract was signed, a White Tiger commando unit moved into his ranch and quickly took over all defenses.

It's safe now, but the cost is too high.
Seventy-two thousand silver dollars, a year's protection fee.

This is nothing short of a fucking robbery.

The money was flowing out of him quickly, and he had to pay six thousand yuan every month.

This money is enough for him to support ten mistresses in San Francisco.

But he had no choice.

He didn't want to be skinned alive by a pile of money he hadn't had time to spend.

The money wasn't wasted; three days later, the Native Americans really did arrive.

They engaged in a fierce firefight with the White Tiger Security.

After leaving behind several corpses, Henderson witnessed firsthand the terrifying fighting power of the Indian Avengers.

I feel it was worth it.

Although he did not witness the fates of Cobb and Brown firsthand, their deterrent effect was in no way diminished.

No amount of money is as good as being alive.

Within just a few weeks, the name White Tiger Security Company had become a talisman that Northern California pioneers and old money with blood on their hands both loved and hated.

Business is booming.

Without exception, all the farmers who were classified as B+ in the risk assessment gritted their teeth and signed the doubled contract.

Those mines and logging camps below Grade B that still had relatively clean assets also signed contracts for Silver Barrier and Bronze Guardian packages.

After all, who the hell knows if those remnants of the Irish gangs might pop up again someday?

……

Apple orchard.

Lawson sat under the tree, flipping through the financial statements from the San Francisco headquarters that Carlos had just submitted.

These contracts are like golden streams, converging into a stable, large, and legitimate cash flow.

"robbery?"

Lawson raised an eyebrow.

Violent robbery is acceptable, but it shouldn't be done frequently.
Income is unstable and risks are high.

To rob a payday train, you need to plan, scout the location, take action, and dispose of the stolen goods.

That's dirty work that can't be done in the light of day.

The business we do now is the one operating in the open, under the sun.

In the open, White Tiger Security Company collects protection fees, while in the shadows, Sao Gou, Hyena, Kuai Bang, and Lao Ban Jiu create risks.

One buy, one sell.

One is a manufacturing problem, the other is selling the only solution.

This is the most profitable business in the world.

Lawson stretched.

This is just the period when he is expanding his power.

He was also very principled; he would pay for services and never cheated anyone, young or old.

We must first use our professionalism and reputation to make White Tiger the only synonym for safety in Northern California, and even the whole of California.

Once he monopolizes the violent market in this land, he will show Henderson and his gang of old bastards what VIP and SVIP really mean.

What is the SVIP exclusive dynamic risk appreciation fee?

"Oh, Mr. Henderson, your risk index has increased by 0.5% this month, so prices are going up."

"What? You're asking why?"

"Because your neighbor hasn't purchased our services, it makes it more difficult for us to protect you!"

Do you understand what I mean?

Lawson could almost picture those old guys cursing as they obediently pulled out even more silver dollars.

Of course, these advanced tactics of capitalists will not be used during the expansion phase.

After all, you have to eat one bite at a time, and you have to herd sheep one circle at a time and then slowly shear their wool.

Just as Lawson was planning his rosy future, a major client unexpectedly came knocking on his door.

San Francisco, headquarters of White Tiger Security Company.

An extremely luxurious carriage stopped in front of the office.

A middle-aged man in a custom-made suit stepped down.

Conrad Hastings.

The third-in-command at the California branch of the Southern Pacific Railroad.

He stood in front of the simple wooden signboard of White Tiger Security and frowned in disgust.

Hastings is one of the spokespeople for the Big Four.

Now you actually have to come to this small company that doesn't even have a doorman to discuss business?
If those sons of bitches from Pinkerton hadn't suddenly all gotten rickets, he would never have come to a place like this in his life.

Hastings resisted the urge to turn around and leave, and pushed open the door.

He was greeted by a Chinese manager in a suit with a blank expression.

"Mr. Hastings."

Han Qing said calmly, "Our boss anticipated your arrival. Please have a seat."

Hastings chuckled and looked the small office up and down with his hands behind his back.

"Young people, I'm here to give you a chance."

"An opportunity for your small company to rise to the top in one step."

"Our Southern Pacific Railroad is considering hiring you to handle some minor problems in Northern California."

"Little trouble?"

Han Qing repeated, "Are you referring to the 43,000 silver dollars that were robbed near Santa Rosa two months ago?"

"Or are you referring to the $80,000 in wages that were wiped out three weeks ago in Rattlesnake Canyon, and the sixty Pinkerton elites?"

"you!"

Hastings turned around abruptly and stared intently at Han Qing.

“Mr. Hastings, the White Tigers never deal with small problems; we only solve big ones.”

"And you, sir."

Han Qing stood up and walked to the map: "You have a big problem now."

“Your Northern California Redwood extension has been shut down for three days.”

"You tried to appease the Irish laborers with greenbacks, and as a result, your foreman was almost hanged on the railway sleepers by them."

“The workers have already declared that if they don’t see Eagle Ocean next month, which is five days from now, they will strike and tear down the thirty miles of track you have already laid.”

Am I right, sir?

"This this!"

Hastings' palms were already sweating.

He felt naked in front of this Chinese man.

How could this be? This person seems to know exactly what's on their mind.

"Are you investigating our company?"

"No, sir."

Han Qing shook his head: "We are just assessing the risks. We are a security company, and we must understand all the threats that potential clients face."

Hastings lit a cigarette and carefully began, "Pinkton rejected us. They said they were restructuring their business and were short-staffed. What a stupid business decision!"

Han Qing casually commented, "But this is a good thing for you, because they are all losers, while we are the winners."

Hastings was somewhat troubled. All the skills he had been proud of for years were utterly crushed in the face of the professionalism of the Chinese manager. "The California National Guard can't stay in that valley forever."

Han Qing looked directly into those eyes that were beginning to show signs of guilt: "To ensure your progress, and more importantly, to appease the Irishmen who are about to riot, Mr. Hastings, White Tiger Security is your only option now."

"Make an offer."

Hastings finally resigned himself to his fate.

"For your situation, we need to charge 200,000 silver dollars per year."

"What? Two hundred thousand silver dollars a year?"

Hastings nearly jumped up on the spot: "Are you fucking crazy? This is twice as expensive as Pinkerton!"

“Pinkerton has cost you $120,000 and the compensation for sixty professional agents.”

Han Qing reminded him, "And our price is a guarantee, sir."

"We guarantee that no more blind bandits will ever again harass your trains and railways."

"I need authorization from the board of directors."

Hastings said weakly.

"of course."

Han Qing maintained his smile throughout: "You can send a telegram now, but my quote is only valid for twenty-four hours."

Hastings eventually gave in.

He had no choice.

The board of directors, those bloodsuckers who only care about profits and deadlines, will agree.

Because the cost of strikes and work stoppages is far greater than two hundred thousand.

"Give me the contract," he said through gritted teeth.

Han Qing handed over a contract that had already been prepared.

Hastings carefully read each clause before signing.

Suddenly, he froze again.

"and many more!"

"This clause states that our services explicitly exclude armed intervention in labor disputes, strikes, and worker repression?"

"What the hell are you up to now?"

Hastings was going crazy: "What does this mean?"

"Literally, sir."

"You don't take jobs suppressing strikes?"

"No."

"Why?" Hastings couldn't understand. "That's the easiest way to make money. Pinkerton and his gang love doing that. A bunch of rabble just needs to fire a few shots and they're all gone!"

"I'll give you more money, another ten thousand on top of this price! How about it? I need you to intimidate those damned laborers when you pay their wages!"

Han Qing shook his head: "This isn't about money; it's about our company's principles."

"in principle?"

Hastings was completely dumbfounded; this was the first time he had ever heard of a small security company talking about principles.

But he gave up and didn't dare to ask any more questions.

As long as we can minimize the losses, nothing else matters.

He grabbed a pen and hastily signed his name on the contract.

"Happy cooperation!"

Han Qing stood up and extended his hand.

Hastings didn't shake hands, grabbed his contract, and stormed out of the office.

He didn't understand that suppressing workers was much easier than dealing with those elusive and ruthless bandits.

Why don't you make money even when you have it?

That's really strange.

Damn it, even without their queues, Chinese people are still different from white people.

……

Lawson soon received news of the contract signing.

Two hundred thousand dollars, another huge cash flow is in hand.

He had a blade of grass between his teeth as he looked into the distance at the new Chinese laborers who were being organized by the Chinese Youth Association for physical examinations and registration.

"Suppressing the workers?"

Lawson sneered, "I'm already being very ethical by not helping these workers who are practically treated like livestock, but dealing with you ruthless capitalists who eat people alive!"

"Keep it to yourself, Hastings."

Lawson accepted the protection contract from the Southern Pacific Railway not just for the $200,000.

He has already preemptively treated the entire state of California as his private property.

The later saying, "To get rich, build roads first," was absolutely right.

To revitalize California's economy and accommodate its future hundreds of thousands of Chinese laborers, a well-developed railway network is essential.

The four giants of the Southern Pacific Railway were the best experts in this field.

They are the best worker bees of this era.

"hehe."

Lawson laughed and spat the grass out: "Then let them work hard to repair it."

“Use their money from the East, the blood and sweat of the Irish and the most advanced technology to pave this steel artery inch by inch across my territory.”

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to enjoy the fruits of their labor after they've paved all the roads?"

"You'll be happy, and so will I!"

The town council hall in San Rafael was packed with people today.

The town's residents were politely invited here by the black-clad riders of the White Tiger Security to decide on an important matter: to elect a new leader.

After all, the heads of the previous mayor and councilors were chopped off by the Irish mad dog and used as footballs.

A town cannot be without a leader, both literally and politically.

Thompson was standing in front of a makeshift wooden platform, and he looked twenty years older than he had a month ago.

That right hand, which could once draw a gun twice in a second, now struggles even to hold a glass of whiskey.

"Guys and ladies!"

He spoke, and the buzzing below quickly subsided: "I think I've fucking had enough."

“In my whole life, I’ve seen Native American skinning knives and countless corpses littering the hillsides during the Civil War. But these days, I’ve watched Miller’s head roll right up to my feet!”

"But I survived."

"I don't know why, maybe God took a nap. But my gun is shaking violently."

He raised his trembling hand.

"A sheriff who can't even hold a gun properly is more useless than a prostitute who isn't wearing pants."

A few dry, soft laughs came from the crowd.

"I'm old, I accept my fate."

Thompson unfastened his police badge and threw it onto the lectern table.

“This town needs someone braver. Someone who can truly protect you.”

He took a step back and bowed. "I, Thompson, am formally resigning from my position as sheriff of Marin County. May God bless you. I certainly can't."

After saying that, he stepped down from the stage and walked straight out of the hall.

The crowd automatically parted to make way for him.

After Thompson walked away, the hall fell silent again.

“Mr. Thompson is a wise man,” a deep voice said.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound.

The white manager next to Lu Yuan slowly walked onto the stage.

"He knows when to let go."

Tias calmly added, "And now, what Saint Raphael needs is order, reconstruction, and a sense of security!"

(End of this chapter)