I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 168 The Cunning Payne (7K long chapter, please vote and subscribe)

Richard picked up his phone and dialed Brian's number: "I need KOM's organizational structure and personnel information, everyone who can influence Hart Island's operations, I need them all."

Brian didn't ask any further questions: "OK, it'll be sent to your phone within an hour."

Richard hung up the phone.

In less than an hour, a complete set of K0M internal documents was sent over, with employee levels, division of responsibilities, and key decision-making nodes all clearly marked.

Lawrence is the president of KOM. The man in the trench coat in the photo is the same one from earlier. His authority covers all operational matters of KOM.

In addition to Hart Island, KOM also owns four small cemetery plots, with 9% of its annual revenue coming from Hart Island.

Mickey is the operations director, responsible for all specific tasks related to the receipt, transfer, and burial of bodies.

Simply put, these two people are basically able to determine KOM's core business.

Richard finished reading all the materials and began to ponder.

Hart Island is his core objective, and the diamonds are on their way. Any factors that might delay the construction of the skeletal nest must be addressed before they arrive.

Killing won't solve the problem.

Kill Lawrence, and KOM will get a new president; kill Mickey, and they'll get a different operations director.

The problem lies with K0M itself. As long as it exists and as long as its management has the power to decide things on Hart Island, trouble will keep recurring.

Moreover, Richard needed a company to continuously send corpses to the island.

Therefore, KOM must be completely controlled!

Richard hadn't come up with a good solution yet.

Let's see if the fly puppet can obtain any information.

Christina went back to her office today to pick up some materials and took a look at Han Qing's first draft of his thesis.

After reading it, Christina's reaction was only one sentence: "Rewrite it. The structure is wrong, the argument chain is not closed, and the data part seems rushed. Don't send this kind of garbage to my email next time."

Han Qing's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but Christina stopped him with a look: "I gave you enough time. If this happens again, I will consider redistributing the authorship of this paper."

Only one thought remained in Chan Hanqing's mind: "The right to be credited should have been mine in the first place—"

But she didn't say a word, she could only nod, put away the printed manuscript, and silently leave the office.

Han Qing sat in her room with a pout, flipping through the paper on her computer screen several times, sighing after each reading.

Rewriting it will take at least another week.

This week happens to fall right before the Spring Festival. If things continue at this pace, she most likely won't be able to go back for the Spring Festival this year.

She didn't go back last year, and it's probably unlikely she will this year either; getting a PhD from Christina is just too difficult...

Han Qing took a few steps down the corridor, mentally calculating the costs:

If she doesn't go back, she saves on airfare, red envelopes for relatives' children, and the cost of meals her parents use to pressure her into blind dates.

After counting the money, she felt it wasn't too bad.

It's just a bit pitiful to be eating instant noodles alone in an apartment during the Spring Festival.

Han Qing, carrying her notebook, rushed to the blood donation center in Manhattan.

That seat was empty. Richard didn't come.

She returned to her office and looked at the documents on her laptop.

The page has only one title line, with the body text blank.

She had been staring blankly at the document for twenty minutes, unable to make any changes to the paper, and Christina's words "rewrite" were still buzzing in her head.

She simply closed the document, leaned back in her chair, sighed, and glanced at the door out of the corner of her eye.

When Han Qing realized that he had subconsciously glanced at Richard's position, he quickly looked away.

What am I thinking?

Richard was only working part-time, so it's normal for him not to come or not.

She lowered her head and drew her attention back to the computer screen.

Then, for no apparent reason, I remembered what happened that night.

When the black man shoved her into the back seat of the car, she thought she was going to die.

Han Qing grew up on campus and had never experienced anything like that.

She still remembered the fear of that day until Richard found her.

Han Qing felt he should formally thank Richard, but Richard rarely saw anyone after that.

Han Qing became increasingly annoyed, so she simply shut down her computer and went to the small storage room behind the blood collection point.

On the table in the storage room was a thermal box containing ten large steamed buns, made with pork and scallions. She had made them last night, thinking of bringing some over today for Richard to try.

He gave her positive feedback on the ten steamed buns she made last time, so she made ten more.

But Richard didn't come today.

Han Qing looked at the insulated box, then at the doorway.

She felt she shouldn't be acting like a fool and waiting for ten steamed buns.

Han Qing simply opened the insulated box, took one out, and took a bite.

The dough was soft and fluffy, and the meat juices had seeped into it. It was still hot, but it didn't taste as good as when it was fresh out of the pot.

Han Qing squatted in the corner of the storage room, eating steamed buns one bite at a time.

After finishing one, I ate another.

When Han Qing finished his third bun, he paused, looked down at the half-eaten bun in his hand, and muttered, "That brat! How could I eat so much by myself! If he hadn't come today, I wouldn't have made it for him again—"

'

Han Qing squatted down, looking at the remaining buns in the insulated box, and began to calculate how many she could eat tomorrow.

Given her appetite, it would take her at least two days to eat.

It would be a waste to throw it away, and she couldn't bear to do it.

Han Qing felt a little depressed at the thought of having to eat steamed buns for two days in a row.

Too much!

You brat!

I'm never making steamed buns for you again!

"Unless you tell me in advance."

Han Qing stuffed the remaining buns into her mouth, chewed twice, swallowed, stood up, patted the crumbs off her hands, closed the insulated box, and put it back in the cabinet.

Then, she went back to her office, sat down, reopened the paper, and racked her brains to write it.

The CEO's office at KOM is not very large.

Lawrence drew the curtains tightly shut and turned on only a desk lamp, illuminating the thin stack of photocopies on the table.

Mickey, the KOM Operations Director, sat in a chair against the wall, while Ed, the Finance Director, gently patted the photocopy.

The three of them had been sitting in the study for almost twenty minutes.

Ed explained the flow of Killian's money again.

The money was transferred out of the KOM company account in four separate transactions, each ranging from 1.2 million to 1.7 million, and then deposited into a shell company registered in Delaware under Killian's name.

The remittance remarks section stated "consulting service fee" and "project management consulting".

When Ed discovered this last year, he initially thought Killian was giving kickbacks to a partner. After checking the accounts for two weeks, he confirmed that the recipient was Killian's own company, which had no tax records.

"Six million exactly," Ed added. "I checked three times. The transfer from KOM's account didn't receive any abnormal notifications from any bank. Killian didn't pay taxes! A full six million! This is a federal felony!"

Mickey couldn't help but speak up: "Boss, just this alone is enough to make that guy Killian—"

Lawrence glanced up at him, then neatly folded the copies and put them back in the brown paper bag.

Mickey's voice caught in his throat, and he didn't finish speaking.

Lawrence calmly replied, "Using this to threaten Killian is something only a fool would do. What can he give us? Enough for us to live on for the rest of our lives?"

Mickey's lips moved slightly, but he didn't reply.

He knew he wasn't very bright, and that listening to Lawrence would ensure he had enough to eat.

Ed, with the caution typical of someone who's been doing accounting for years, said, "What if we hand it over? If we anonymously report it to the IRS, he'll be investigated for at least three months. During those three months, he won't have the energy to deal with our affairs. We can do whatever we want."

Lawrence glanced at Ed and retorted, "What good would it do us to hand it over? With Killian gone, KOM's exclusive rights will definitely be reassessed, but who will get them after the reassessment? Without City Councilor Killian, can the three of us retain our exclusive rights? Ed, you've worked so hard to gather this evidence, only to have it benefit someone else in the end."

Ed did not refute it; he knew Lawrence was right.

You shouldn't do things that harm others without benefiting yourself.

Mickey asked from the side, "So we're just... leaving it there forever?"

Lawrence calmly said, "Just leave it. We'll make a move when the time is right."

He picked up the brown paper bag, walked to the safe next to the bookshelf, squatted down, and entered the password.

With a soft click, the door popped open.

The safe was piled with several company financial documents. Lawrence placed the brown paper bag at the bottom, under the other documents, and then closed the door.

No one could have imagined that he would dare to put the company boss's dirty laundry in the company's financial documents.

"Killian isn't stupid," Lawrence analyzed. "He's been on the city council for so long, and last year's Hart Island Act..."

He snatched a vote back from Payne when things were almost deadlocked. We can't confront him head-on. So don't rush things; those who rush die quickly.

Mickey swallowed and nodded.

Ed didn't speak, but he agreed.

Lawrence glanced at them: "This is our trump card. Over the past few years, Killian got $6 million from KOM, and we got $200 million too."

Ten thousand. That's a lot. We'll just wait now; we've already made a good amount of money. This card will only be played when the game is at its most crucial. The game is still early.

Richard picked up the fly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He never expected to have such an unexpected gain today, a gain that was far greater than he had imagined.

He only wanted to find something to hold against KOM executives, but he never expected to uncover Killian's secrets!

This is a big fish.

2 points in the early hours.

Richard drove up to the KOM company building.

KOM occupies one floor of an ordinary office building, with seven or eight offices. The main entrance is a common glass sliding door with the word "KOM" pasted on it.

There was only one gatekeeper on the first floor, who was huddled in the security room watching TV.

Richard waited until Richard bent down to light a cigarette before going upstairs through the side fire escape, his footsteps very light and without making a sound.

Richard walked to the entrance of KOM Company, but the glass door was closed.

He stood in front of the door, put on rubber gloves, and silently extended his magical hand through the crack in the door to the inside, where he grasped the doorknob and gently turned it.

Click, the door lock popped open.

Richard pushed the door open and went in, closing it behind him.

The office area was small, with six workstations, two copiers, and an aerial photograph of Hart Island hanging on the wall.

There were no cameras or alarms.

KOM is a small to medium-sized company.

He walked through the passageway between the workstations and came to the end of the corridor.

A brass plaque hangs on the door: "President's Office - Lawrence".

Richard once again unleashed his magic, grasped the doorknob, and gently turned it; the door opened.

He went inside and closed the door behind him.

The office is small, with a desk, two chairs, and some filing cabinets.

He looked around and found the small safe, about half a meter high, embedded in the floor in the corner of the wall.

Richard squatted in front of the safe and entered the password captured by the fly puppet.

Click. The lock opened.

Richard opened the cabinet door, inside were several stacks of documents, a sealed brown paper bag, and two boxes of cigars. He picked up the brown paper bag, pulled out the materials inside, quickly flipped through them, and confirmed that they were Killian's tax evasion records.

A series of transfer records, which began about four years ago, ranged from hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars each, with the receiving account being a shell company under Killian's personal name.

The account summary column only listed "consulting service fee" and "project management fee" without any further explanation.

However, the attached internal email records show that this money was never declared in K0M's official accounts, nor was any personal income tax paid on it.

The total amount is just over $600 million.

Richard photographed each page, then stacked them in their original order, put them back in the brown paper bag, and returned them to the safe.

Then he looked through the other documents in the safe, but didn't find much of a clue.

He read everything before closing the cabinet door.

Richard stood up, carefully inspected the desk and floor to make sure no traces were left, then left the office and gently closed the door behind him.

He walked across the work area, opened the glass door, went out, and closed the door back in its original position to make sure everything looked untouched.

A few minutes later, Richard returned to the car but didn't start it immediately.

He dialed Brian's number: "Come over right away, I have a batch of documents for you."

Less than fifteen minutes later, a black sedan drove up from the street corner and stopped next to Richard's car.

Brian got out of the back seat, wearing a dark gray coat and carrying nothing, and bent down to sit in Richard's passenger seat.

Richard pulled out the photos from his phone and handed them to him.

Brian put on his reading glasses and turned the pages one by one, stopping when he reached the third page.

He stared at that page for a few seconds, then took off his reading glasses, a bloodthirsty smile spreading across his face. "Killian's a complete idiot. He thinks he can evade detection by using KOM. How foolish. If this gets out, Killian's political career is over."

Richard said, "OK, here's the information. I need complete control over Hart Island. The approval process for people landing on the island, their entry and exit, the list of people on the island, and their work assignments—all of this must be within my authority."

Brian pondered for a few seconds: "That requires a complete plan. First of all, we certainly can't just throw the evidence at Killian directly, that would only make him hate me and wouldn't cooperate with my reforms of KOM. I need to think of a way to make Killian come to me for help."

Richard wasn't interested in the specifics of the plot: "OK, this is your job."

Brian nodded. "Master, are you in a hurry?"

Richard thought for a moment: "Within a month. Let's see if there are any abnormalities."

Even if diamonds arrive, he might not immediately set up a nest of skeletons.

However, it shouldn't be delayed for too long.

One month is the limit of Richard's tolerance.

Brian: "Let's wait and see if things take a turn for the better. Killian's condition is terrible right now, and things could change at any time."

Richard nodded: "You can take it. I've made a backup. You know better than I do how to use it."

Brian nodded: "OK, Master."

He pushed open the car door, got out of the passenger seat, and bent down to get into the black sedan behind.

The car door closed, the headlights flashed briefly, and then the car drove off the street corner and disappeared into the night.

New York City Council Speaker Gabrielle Payne's office is at the end of the second-floor corridor of City Hall, with windows facing the Queens skyline.

He has been sitting in this office for twelve years.

There were no extra decorations on the table, only a landline phone, a nameplate, and a copy of Robert's Rules of Order with the edges curled up.

He leaned back in his chair, a list laid out in front of him containing the names of forty-seven city council members.

Thirty-one of the names were circled.

These 31 people are the ones who will most likely side with Killian in today's vote.

Brian's hand reached in!

Through Killian's influence, he bribed more than two-thirds of the city council members without Killian's knowledge, and released the book...

The Hart Island Act has moved to the voting stage!

Payne's face looked extremely grim.

Damn congressmen!

The New York City Council is not your playground!

Payne picked up the landline and dialed a number.

It rang twice, and then the other end answered.

"This is Payne. Have you decided on your position for tomorrow's vote on the Hart Island Act?" There was a two-second silence on the other end. "Mr. Speaker, I've given it serious consideration. Killian's proposal would be a huge help to New York City's body disposal system—"

Payne interrupted him: "I'm asking about your position."

There was another long silence on the other end: "—I'm sorry, Mr. Speaker. I've made my decision."

Payne pressed on: "Decid what?"

The other side: "I will support the Hart Island Act."

"And the reason? What did Brian use to bribe you?"

"sorry."

Payne didn't say anything and hung up the phone immediately.

He dialed the second, the third, and the fourth number.

Every reply was pretty much the same: "Sorry, I've already made up my mind."

Payne's expression didn't change when he put the receiver back on the landline.

He picked up the list, found Killian's name, and underlined it.

Killian is just the figurehead. The one truly driving everything is Brian.

Payne leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.

His primary legislative goal over the past two years has been the New York City Security Act, which advocates for loosening official oversight.

Once approved, private security companies will gain greater operational flexibility, the pre-trial process for private prisons can be accelerated, and the gun purchase process will be further simplified.

This logic was designed entirely for his three major financial backers: security groups, private prison groups, and the National Rifle Association.

Payne needs this bill; it's his most significant achievement since his re-election and the reason his financial backers are willing to continue supporting him.

However, the New York City Security Act and Brian's sudden implementation of the Preventive Arrest Act are fundamentally in conflict.

Brian wanted to expand the NYPD's powers so that the department could make arrests without judicial review.

Payne wanted the NYPD to step back from more public safety functions, allowing private security firms to take over and letting the market, rather than the government, manage law and order.

The two logics are completely contradictory.

Payne's original idea was to use the Hart Island Act as a bargaining chip.

The Hart Island Act is a core interest of Killian.

If he can block the Hart Island Act, Killian will be forced to concede on the security bill.

With Killian's concession, Brian's Unlimited Jurisdiction Act lost a key ally, and he also lost a foothold for reaching in.

However, the bribery of 31 hospitals led to his complete loss of control over the Hart Island Act.

Payne frowned.

He had sat in this office for twelve years and had never seen a congressman win over two-thirds of the city councilors in such a short time.

This is not an ordinary transaction.

Brian's asking price is definitely beyond the normal range.

Payne stared at Killian's name for a while, and finally came up with a solution.

He wrote a line under Killian's name: "KOM Corporation, exclusive rights to Hart Isle."

Payne put down the list, picked up the internal phone, and called his secretary: "Get the KOM company's information immediately."

The city council meeting officially began at 3 p.m.

Killian sat in his seat, a final draft of the Hart Island Act spread out before him. He had already counted—thirty-one members of Congress had explicitly expressed their support, and with himself and two other staunch allies, the bill's passage was virtually a foregone conclusion.

But he didn't feel relaxed when he sat down.

Payne is a formidable enemy.

Payne sat on the podium and struck the gavel three times: "Fellow members, the first item on the agenda today is the final vote on the Hart Island Act's plan for centralized disposal of all abandoned remains on the island."

Killian stood up: "Your Excellency Speaker, I request that we proceed directly to the voting process."

Payne glanced at him: "No rush. I have a few questions to clarify before the vote."

He opened the folder in front of him: "Congressman Killian, in the Hart Island Act you submitted, Section 5, Paragraph 3 clearly stipulates that K0M Corporation has the sole operating license for Hart Island, is that right?"

What does this mean? Killian's body tensed slightly: "This is for the sake of management efficiency. The receipt and disposal of unclaimed remains requires a unified process and standards; decentralized operations would lead to regulatory chaos. This law has been in effect for 23 years and is extremely efficient."

Payne calmly replied, "What efficiency?"

Payne paused, then began reading the rebuttal: "Over the past five years, KOM's annual profits have increased by $0 million, while the cost of burying bodies on Hart Island has not decreased accordingly. Is KOM's profit growth due to the government's monopolistic authorization of a single operator?"

"Nonsense! Of course! But I can't say that, because every city councilor plays the same game." Killian's face darkened. "KOM Corporation has completed all the body disposal tasks as stipulated in the contract. Profit growth is based on improved operational efficiency. Mr. Speaker, if you have any questions about this, you can apply for a formal audit, instead of making such unfounded accusations before the final vote."

Payne stated bluntly, "Then let's do an audit."

Killian was dumbfounded.

He glanced at Killian: "I propose that the vote on the Hart Island Act be postponed until a full audit of KOM's financial situation is completed. If any legislator believes this would affect the speed of the bill's progress, we can first pass a separate bill to conduct an open bidding evaluation of Hart Island's operating qualifications. KOM can participate as one of the candidates, but should not have an exclusive automatic renewal right."

"You bastard!" Killian's face was incredibly grim. "Mr. Speaker, I protest! You're using procedure to delay things. The core of the Hart Island Act is the establishment of a system for handling remains, not the issue of K0M's operating rights. Tying these two issues together is an abuse of legislative process!"

Payne said coldly, "I think the issue of operating rights is precisely the core of the Hart Island Act. Since Parliament is going to legislate on the use of this island, it should first clarify who will operate it. Representative Killian, are you in a hurry?"

Killian said angrily, "I just don't want a bill that concerns the public interest to be indefinitely shelved by procedural means!"

Payne said calmly, "Then let's discuss this clearly. One day isn't enough, two days aren ... a week isn't enough."

He looked at the other members of Congress, his gaze sweeping across each of their faces: "If the vote on the Hart Island Bill must be held separately from the issue of the management rights, then we can vote first on the proposal for an open tender for the management rights separately."

Payne paused, then turned his gaze back to Killian, who was furious.

If the proposal passes, K0M's exclusive rights will be revoked.

Even if the Hart Island Act is passed, KOM will only be able to compete with other companies for the contract.

He had worked hard to push through the bill for two years, only to have it benefit someone else in the end.

This was completely unacceptable to Killian.

The meeting room was quiet for a moment, then a few scattered whispers broke out.

They simply agreed to cooperate with Killian in supporting the Hart Island Act.

Now, Payne has changed his target to KOM's exclusive operating rights.

Then they'll have a perfectly good reason not to take action and can just sit back and watch the show.

Killian stood at his seat, his fingers gripping the edge of the folder so tightly they turned white.

Payne looked at him and repeated, "Congressman Killian, do you want to move forward with the bill, or resolve the issue of control first?"

Killian remained silent.

He knew Payne was blocking his way.

If he insists on pushing forward with the bill, Payne will submit a separate bid for the operating rights; if he wants to retain his exclusive rights, the bill's progress will be indefinitely delayed.

Killian opened his mouth, but ultimately only managed to utter, "I request a five-minute recess."

Payne shrugged and tapped the gavel: "OK, five-minute break."

When Killian returned to his office, his expression was not good.

"FXXK! That bastard! FXXK!"

The Hart Island Act, which he has been pushing for two years, is finally going to be voted on.

But Payne brought the issue of control of the company directly to the forefront. If the bill passes, his control of the company may be lost. The Hart Island Act, which he worked so hard to fight for, has become a tool to benefit others!

This was something Killian could not tolerate at all.