I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 171 Taking Down KOM Company (8K Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Subscriptions)

Lawrence arrived quickly.

Payne's assistant stood at the door and gestured for him to come in.

Lawrence sat down in the chair, straightening his back more than usual, as if using his posture to encourage himself.

Payne looked up and, without exchanging pleasantries, said, "Hand over the evidence."

Lawrence froze, nervously wringing his hands: "—We agreed before that the evidence was in my hands, to be used only when absolutely necessary. Now that Killian has started to back down, he's withdrawn the Preventive Arrest Act, and I think I can…"

""

"What do you think?" Payne interrupted him, his eyes sharp and menacing. "What do you think? Do you think that just because Killian backed down you don't have to hand over the evidence? Or do you think you can keep it as a shield for yourself?!"

Lawrence opened his mouth, then quickly explained, "That's not what I meant, but if I hand it over, I'll have nothing left..."

Payne stared at him for a long time, as if he were watching a joke, until Lawrence felt a chill run down his spine before saying, "Listen, Lawrence, you still don't understand how dangerous a game you're playing."

He stood up, leaned forward, and looked down at Lawrence, his face less than half a meter away. His voice wasn't loud, but every word struck Lawrence's heart like a hammer: "You're threatening an incumbent city councilor with evidence! If I hadn't protected you, you'd be dead by now from a car accident, falling into the sea, a heart attack, or some other damn thing."

"You remember this! Everything you do can only move forward, not backward, and don't even think about standing still!"

"Now, this matter has implicated a U.S. Representative, a city council president, a city council member, and a police commissioner, and maybe more than that; perhaps behind Frank is Isabella, that crazy female police chief!"

"You're telling me now that you don't want to hand over the evidence? Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Lawrence's Adam's apple bobbed.

The stark threat to his life made his heart pound, and a thin layer of sweat seeped out from his back.

He had prepared a set of arguments, such as "the evidence is safer in my hands" and "we can proceed in stages," but when Payne's words came down, he found that none of his prepared statements held water.

He then realized that this matter involved too many important figures.

He tried to swing the sledgehammer with a bamboo pole, but he didn't expect that the bamboo pole couldn't support the weight of the hammer head at all.

Now, if he stops, the hammer will fall to the ground, smashing his feet, or even his forehead, causing him to bleed profusely, or even die on the spot.

Lawrence tried to come up with a rebuttal, but his mind went blank.

A U.S. Representative, a city council president, a city council member, and a crazy NYPD chief.

Everyone here is someone he looks up to.

He suddenly realized Payne was right; things had come to this point, and he had no other choice. "————Okay." His voice trembled. "I'll get it for you right away."

Payne scoffed and sat back down, handing over a note: "Take this damn evidence, go to this place, sign the contract you most want to sign, hand the evidence to that person, and the rest is your business. Run the new company well, and don't let me down."

When Lawrence walked out of the office, he was still in shock and covered in cold sweat.

He finally realized he had made a huge mistake.

He had rashly entered a game of chess that was not his to play.

He tried to manipulate everything with that ridiculous evidence, but things didn't go as he expected.

Lawrence stood in the corridor for a long time before walking out the door with a serious expression.

He returned home to retrieve the evidence, then anxiously went to the meeting place, where he saw a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit.

Standing next to the middle-aged man was Sheriff Frank.

The middle-aged man saw him and walked over, coldly handing him an investment contract: "Sign it. Three copies, one for each of the three parties."

Lawrence paused for a moment, then quickly took the investment contract.

This is a three-way equity distribution for a new company: Payne owns 50%, Frank owns 20%, and he owns 30%.

The number was lower than he had expected, but it wasn't small either.

The weight on Lawrence's heart finally lifted.

In any case, the shares are finally in hand!

He quickly signed the three contracts, and Frank took the signed ones and left, saying, "Doug, these are yours now."

"OK." Doug glanced at the contract, casually stuffed it into his briefcase, and said, "Alright, Lawrence, give me the evidence."

Lawrence handed the evidence to Doug.

Doug opened the file folder, carefully looked through it, and only after confirming that everything was correct did he say, "OK, our deal is done. We'll handle the rest of the procedures; it's none of your business."

Doug put the signed documents into his briefcase, walked towards the door, and took out his phone as he went, dialing a number: "Boss, got it. OK."

Lawrence sat somewhat bewildered on the sofa in the reception area.

The contract that had caused him so much anxiety was something these people didn't even bother to glance at.

Is this the world of the big shots?

Lawrence looked down at the hand holding the pen and felt his fingers were a little cold, but that chill was quickly overshadowed by the eagerness that welled up inside him.

Become!

It's finally done!

I'm going to be a boss!

What he didn't see was that as soon as Frank stepped out the door, he scoffed, tore the contract to shreds, and threw it in the trash.

"What a naive and foolish fellow."

A few hours later, Doug sat on the sofa in Brian's office, waiting for Brian to finish reading the documents.

Brian finished turning the last page, placed the document on the table, and smirked slightly: "That guy named Lawrence, he really signed the contract?"

"Signed." Doug shrugged and put the contract Lawrence had just signed into the shredder, cutting it into shreds.

This contract is fake.

The most sophisticated scams always require only the simplest methods.

For example, fake signatures.

Frank's signature is fake, and Payne's signature is also fake.

Frank's name was signed with his left hand, while Payne's signature was scribbled by his assistant.

From beginning to end, no one intended to work with Lawrence except himself.

Lawrence was in a good mood when he got home.

He hung up his coat, went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of red wine, took the glass to the living room, and sat down comfortably.

He hadn't decided what to do first tomorrow—whether to register a new company or contact a few suppliers—but thinking about the signed contract he had and Payne's support, he felt that these issues didn't need to be figured out now, and it wouldn't matter if he thought about them tomorrow.

He is still very excited and hasn't calmed down yet.

Lawrence looked down at his signature on the contract; the ink was still wet.

He picked up the contract and looked at it again. The terms were basically the same as what Payne had said, but he felt that the content was a bit empty, as if something was missing.

However, he didn't think much of it.

Perhaps for those important figures, this kind of contract isn't something they need to care about too much.

Lawrence first called Mickey and Ed for a meeting: "Guys! I've got it done! We're going to be rich!"

"real?!"

"OMG! You're a genius!"

The three celebrated for a while and agreed to have dinner together the next day to discuss the specifics of the new company.

Lawrence was satisfied and had just put down his phone when the doorbell rang.

Lawrence stood up, walked to the door, and peeked through the peephole.

Two uniformed police officers stood outside the door, and behind them stood another officer he didn't recognize, holding a folded document.

His finger paused on the door lock for a moment, then he opened the door.

"Lawrence?" The police officer in front spoke without looking at him, glancing down at the documents in his hand. "A city councilor has filed a complaint against you for suspected financial fraud, falsifying accounts, and conspiring to frame a current city councilor. This is an arrest warrant."

Lawrence's hand was still on the doorknob, his mind blank, and he said blankly, "You—you've got a mistake."

"9

The police did not respond.

Another officer took half a step forward, stood to one side of the door, and forced the door open, handcuffing Lawrence's hands behind his back.

"Can I make a phone call?" Lawrence's voice was a little more urgent than before.

He finally understood what had happened; his heart pounded, and he vaguely felt as if he had fallen into a deep pit.

"You can continue this in the detention center. Now, come with us immediately!"

When Lawrence was pushed out the door, he had nothing with him; his phone was still on the coffee table.

"I forgot my phone!"

One of the policemen said dismissively, "You don't need it."

Lawrence became agitated and struggled angrily: "I want to speak to my lawyer!"

"Let's talk at the police station!"

boom!

A police baton jabbed him in the lower back, rendering him speechless.

Lawrence was shoved into the back seat of the police car, his face pressed against the window, unable to move, and watched helplessly as his house gradually disappeared into the distance.

The light was still on, and the wine glasses on the coffee table were still in their original places.

Things happened too fast.

He didn't have time to react at all.

More than half an hour later, Lawrence sat on the hard bed in the detention center, his face pale, and sat there blankly for an hour.

No one paid him any attention, and no one interrogated him.

Unable to endure the torment any longer, Lawrence suddenly rushed to the iron bars and shouted, "I need to see a lawyer!"

boom!boom!

"Hey bro! I need to see a lawyer!"

The police officer outside lazily scrolled through his phone: "Got it, I've notified him, he's on his way."

"Why is it taking so long!"

"How should I know! Shut up now!"

Lawrence waited for what seemed like forever, but the lawyer still hadn't arrived. He said anxiously, "Why hasn't the lawyer come yet!"

The officer glanced at him and calmly said, "Oh, your lawyer was in a car accident on the way. He's okay, but the car is totaled. He can't come today."

Lawrence's fingers began to tremble.

This is a conspiracy!

This is a trap!

His mind was rapidly piecing together fragments: Payne's threats, handing over the evidence, signing the contract, and then being arrested. He remembered the look Doug gave him when he signed, though he hadn't thought about it at the time.

Looking back now, it feels like seeing a dead person!

Lawrence didn't know how long he had been sitting when the door to the detention cell was suddenly opened.

He suddenly raised his head, and a large hand pressed against his mouth: "Ugh! Ugh!" Just as he was about to struggle, a syringe was inserted into his body.

That evening, an additional line appeared on the detention center's report: "Detainee Lawrence died of a sudden heart attack while in custody. The cause of death may be related to a drug overdose prior to his imprisonment."

The NYPD duty officer signed the report, the OCME head stamped it, and it was thrown into a pile of documents that nobody cared about.

Less than an hour later, Lawrence's body was pushed into the crematorium and disappeared completely.

He never uses drugs.

The next morning.

Mickey was hiding in a broken-down car in an abandoned parking lot, his face covered by his coat, huddled in the crevice of the back seat.

He didn't sleep all night, constantly checking his phone, but there were no new messages.

He saw the news about Ed's car accident.

He also saw the news of Lawrence's death.

Ed was driving fast when he plunged off a bridge and drowned.

Lawrence died in prison from a drug overdose.

Mickey was trembling all over; he had known these two men for many years.

Lawrence never does drugs, not even marijuana.

Ed was extremely cautious and afraid of death, driving incredibly slowly, which Mickey mocked many times!

He actually died while speeding?

shit!

Someone killed them!

It must be Kirian's!

It must be Killian taking revenge on them!

All Aich wants now is to escape New York and get out of this dangerous place.

Upon confirming the accident, he didn't drive his own car but immediately escaped through the emergency exit, crossing several streets to reach this abandoned parking lot.

There's an old car he left here a long time ago; it's not registered in his name, and nobody knows about it.

"I have to get out of here right now!"

Just then, someone knocked on the car door from the outside.

Boom boom boom!

Mickey turned his head sharply in horror and saw a familiar face through the car window, but it was a face that shouldn't be there at all—the East University professor from the research station on Hart Island!

Richard!

Richard smiled at him, his hands clasped in rubber gloves: "Hey, bro, open the door."

How did he end up here! Mickey opened his mouth, his first thought being that he was dreaming.

He couldn't understand it, and felt a chill run down his spine. He roared through the car window, "Get out of my way! Stay away from me! Don't touch my car!"

Click!

The door lock has already popped open by itself.

Mickey stared at the car door in horror, completely bewildered by what had happened.

Richard calmly opened the car door.

"You! You! Don't come in..." Before Mickey could finish speaking, he felt a sharp pain explode in his heart, as if a hand had gripped his heart.

Mickey involuntarily bent over and covered his chest.

He tried to shout, but the pain blocked his voice in his throat, and he couldn't make a sound.

Richard reached out and pressed his hand on his head.

Mickey felt a tremendous suction force coming from him, as if a vacuum cleaner was sucking his flesh and blood.

His strength was vanishing at a visible rate, and he watched in horror as the skin on his hands rapidly turned gray and decayed.

Wrinkled and shriveled.

The lines of the tendons quickly become prominent, climbing upwards along the contours of the fingers.

Bones bulged out from under the skin, and within seconds, his hands looked like a dried-up corpse.

monster!

It's a monster!

Mickey was terrified.

The next second, consciousness was plunged into eternal darkness.

The touch of withering.

Richard gently tapped the corpse.

The withered body began to disintegrate, and grayish-white dust scattered throughout the carriage before disappearing without a trace.

Richard took Mickey's coat away.

He walked several blocks, found a deserted corner, set his coat on fire, kicked the ashes away, got into his car, started the engine, and drove off.

Killian pushed open Brian's office door, his steps lighter than usual.

His face was filled with barely suppressed excitement and joy, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness.

Killian sat down opposite Brian, resting his hands on his knees and leaning slightly forward, asking impatiently, "Did you get the evidence?"

Brian looked at him without saying a word.

Killian was a little confused, so he leaned forward a little more and repeated, "Brian? Payne gave you the evidence? Great! Give it back to me."

Brian leaned back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He rested his hand on the table, leisurely watching his fingers spread out and then close.

He looked at his fingers as if he had grasped something.

Killian is like the insect that fell into the spider web; it's still moving, but the web has already tightened.

Killian waited about two seconds, his smile fading as he sensed something was wrong. He called out nervously, "—Brian?"

Brian finally spoke: "From now on, I will be in charge of personnel arrangements at KOM Company."

Killian froze completely: "—What did you say?"

Brian didn't repeat himself, but just looked at Killian, who had already said everything.

Killian blinked twice.

Finally, he understood.

His face turned pale, and his voice began to tremble: "Brian, you said you would help me—you promised me."

Brian said calmly, "I did help you. I helped you retain your exclusive rights."

Killian became enraged: "And then? And then?!"

Brian said softly, "Then the evidence remains with me. It's fair; I traded my bill for your operating rights, and you owe me that."

Killian's Adam's apple bobbed.

He thought of Lawrence, the bastard who threatened him with evidence of tax evasion, whom he thought he had gotten rid of.

But the evidence was simply taken by a different person, someone even more dangerous!

"How is what you're doing any different from Lawrence's?" Killian's voice was low, trying to suppress his panic and anger.

Brian said, "I know better than him how to behave."

Killian stared at him for a few seconds, then his voice turned furious: "You knew all along, didn't you?! You knew about Lawrence, you knew he had something, you knew he'd go to Payne, you knew he'd threaten me! You've been waiting for me to fall into this trap!"

Brian didn't speak, but his lips twitched slightly.

Killian finally confirmed it: "You were fucking waiting to reap the rewards from the very beginning!"

"I thought Payne was forcing me, but it was you! You're the one who tricked me!"

Killian's eyes were bloodshot, and his chest heaved rapidly.

Payne beat him fairly and squarely, while Brian watched him get beaten with a smile.

The two kinds of anger pressed down on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.

He recalled Payne's demeanor in the council, and then the expression on Brian's face as he sat on the sofa watching him walk in.

Payne publicly executed him, and Brian stood there watching him being executed, then walked over and pretended to pull him out of the water, but ended up leaving him hanging in mid-air, neither up nor down.

Killian gritted his teeth and said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Brian! You could have stopped Payne much earlier—"

Brian looked at him as if he had heard something utterly absurd, and retorted, "Why should I tell you?"

Killian was stunned.

"I see you make a mistake, and I'm supposed to tell you?" Brian's voice was utterly cold. "Killian, do you think I'm your daddy?"

"You chose your own ally, you signed your own contract, and you let Lawrence work at K0M for twelve years. Which of these things did I force you to do?"

"Finally, did I force Payne to take your exclusive rights? No, I intervened to help you retain your exclusive rights."

"You're sitting in this office now, receiving KOM's bonuses, and still holding your city councilor title. What have you lost?"

Management rights?

Brian paused for a moment, then said, "Have you ever cared about KOM? When have you ever cared what the people at KOM are doing? Like that shitty little dock! You didn't even know Hart Island had a new smuggling dock!"

"Killian, come on, stop crying like a little girl every time you get beaten up!"

Killian was speechless.

Brian was right; he only cared about how much money KOM could give him each year.

What he wanted was money, not the company.

So what has he lost now?

He lost control of a company he had never managed before.

He's still sharing the profits, still serving as a city councilor, and has retained his exclusive operating rights.

"Do you want the company?" Brian asked.

Killian did not answer.

Brian spoke for him: "You don't want that. You just want the money. The money isn't gone, and your company is still there."

Killian sat there, finding himself unable to find a single word to refute.

He wanted to hate Brian, but he found that his hatred was without reason.

Payne undermined him in front of everyone in Congress, published articles criticizing him in the media, and forced him to hand over the exclusive rights.

Brian just didn't tell him beforehand.

As Brian said, Brian isn't his biological father, so why should he help him?

Brian pushed the personnel reshuffle plan in front of him: "Take a look."

Killian picked it up but didn't open it.

He stared at the cover for a while, then asked, "—How exactly did you know Lawrence had something?"

Brian looked at him without saying a word, his eyes filled with disdain.

Killian looked at his expression and realized he had asked a stupid question.

"No one tells others their cards up their sleeve," Brian said dismissively. "Don't ask such stupid questions. It only makes me doubt your abilities and whether our cooperation is worth continuing."

Killian, his face flushed red with embarrassment and anger, threw the file on the table: "—Do whatever you want, it's no use me saying anything!"

His voice was low, as if he were convincing himself: "Don't touch my money, Brian! I'm warning you! Never touch my money!"

"You still have money." Brian put on his glasses and started working, his expression unchanged.

Killian stood up, turned, and left.

He had just reached the door when Brian added, "Listen, Killian, get the Hart Island Act through. You've wasted enough time already."

Killian placed his hand on the doorknob, paused for a moment, and then left.

Valerie is organizing forms in the OCME office.

My phone rang; it was an unfamiliar number.

She answered the phone and heard the other person identify himself as the new president of KOM Company.

Valerie paused for a moment, because she recognized Lawrence, the former president of KOM Corporation. He had died in custody two days ago from a drug overdose, and she had seen the news about it.

I didn't expect K0M Company to be so fast; the old president had just died and the new president had already taken office.

"Ms. Valerie," the new president's voice was very businesslike, "I need to confirm the new procedures with you regarding the future island-landing schedule."

Valerie asked疑惑地问道：“New procedure?”

"Yes. From now on, all plans to land on the island will need to be submitted for approval 48 hours in advance. Also, there is a research station on the island belonging to Professor Christina Shepard, and the area within 50 meters of the station has been designated as a restricted zone. Please remind your people not to approach, as there may be a risk of biochemical contamination. We will not be responsible for any accidents that occur."

Valerie's pen stopped: "A restricted area? That research site for corpse diseases?"

"Yes. All outsiders, including KOM workers, are prohibited from entering within a 50-meter radius."

After Valerie hung up the phone, she put down her pen and stared at the phone for a few seconds.

This was the first time she had heard that KOM Corporation would designate a research outpost as a restricted area; the Lawrence of the past would have preferred to kick out the outpost altogether.

Why did everything change direction after changing people?

Professor Shepard, what exactly does this guy do?

Valerie turned on her computer and searched for "Christina Shepard".

When the search results appeared, her gaze paused for a moment: Princeton University Cell Lab PI, tenured professor.

He is the head of multiple federal research grants, has published papers with over 20,000 citations, and receives over [amount missing] in annual research funding.

$10 billion!

Valerie didn't understand the meaning of the preceding text, but she understood the significance of the funding.

10 billion!

"OMG!" Valerie counted the zeros after the 1 carefully, unable to comprehend what an enormous asset this was.

And this is just what cells spend each year!

When Valerie closed the search page, countless images of Franklin were still swirling in her mind.

One billion! One professor spends one billion in a year!

She sat up straight again and searched for a few more keywords, which brought up a string of news headlines: Princeton, FDA, federal funds.

The international cooperation was completely different from the OCME she was used to, and she didn't quite understand it.

No wonder KOM's first move after changing its president was to revise its processes.

This has nothing to do with that yellow-skinned student; that's the power of Professor Shepard.

For someone who can mobilize 1 billion in funding, getting KOM to create a restricted area from scratch is just a matter of making a phone call.

She remembered how Helen stood next to that student, and how Helen ran over faster than usual.

Valerie thought Helen might have made a mistake: Richard was indeed Professor Shepard's student, but he was not valued.

A student who is truly valued will not stay on an island of corpses for long.

Shepard has so many labs, so many projects, so many partners; any one of them is more promising than Hart Island.

Richard's placement there indicates that he was on the very periphery of the Shepard system.

I'll have to try to persuade Helen again.

What a silly girl.

The following afternoon, Richard stood at the entrance of the research station on Hart Island.

Workers are pulling up the posts, road signs, and barbed wire that Lawrence had previously placed, one by one, and throwing them into the carriage.

The red and white warning tapes were rolled up into a ball, like a pile of discarded old ropes.

The new sign is metal, with a black background and white lettering, and reads: "Corpse Disease Research Site: Do Not Approach, Dangerous Biological Operation Area".

A black and yellow skull warning sign was placed on the ground.

Brian stood beside him, watching the old signs being torn down: "The finance director, president, and COO have all been replaced by my people. Killian only retains the title of chairman and profit-sharing rights. He has no signing authority, no personnel authority, and no transfer authority."

"From now on, the approval process for landing on Hart Island will be forwarded to you first. For each batch of people landing on the island, OCME..."

"You'll receive a list before anyone—from the KOM, the state, everyone—can board the island. Only after you approve their applications can they board."

Richard nodded in satisfaction, watching the skull and crossbones sign hanging at the highest point of the fence.

Normal people wouldn't go near such a sign.

Richard stood at the entrance of the outpost, watching the workers load the last batch of old signs onto trucks and drive them away.

He mentally reviewed the current situation.

Legally, only people from OCME and KOM can legally land on the island.

OCME personnel are only responsible for delivering bodies; they do not inquire about the situation on the island.

The approval authority for KOM was in his hands, and the managers were replaced by Brian's people.

The people on the water police side were arranged by Isabella, and they had also communicated with Brian.

The situation is now completely under control.

Although Hart Island appears to be next to New York, most people can no longer visit the island.

Richard was satisfied with Brian's methods; this was a truly useful servant. He casually asked a trivial question: "Unlimited legal authority, what do you plan to do with that?"

For Richard, unlimited legal authority wasn't important, but if Brian could actually get through, his control over New York would be taken to another level.

Brian grinned. "Of course not. I set a trap."

"What kind of trap?" Richard asked with interest.

Brian glanced around and said softly, "There's a group of Catholics in the South Bronx called the CMCS, causing quite a stir. Liberals and Protestants are very unhappy, and there have been several clashes between them. I've sent people to pretend to be on both sides, quietly stirring things up. Now the Protestants are preparing for a demonstration. Something's bound to happen. Isabella will make the NYPD withdraw, and maybe people will die. If not, I'll create something."

Payne's new security bill for New York City is essentially about officials relaxing regulations.

With Brian having just been traded to Payne, the NYPD can now relax its oversight of bad sectors.

If a public incident occurs in the South Bronx, Payne will be in deep trouble.

"Very good, very good." Richard glanced at him. "You're more efficient than before."

Brian pursed his lips: "Thank you, Master."

The worker threw the last old sign into the carriage and closed the door.

The truck started its engine and drove toward the dock.

Richard stood at the entrance to the outpost, at the new sign at the highest point of the fence.

KOM's troubles are finally over.