Reborn American Giants

Thinking of this, Tank grabbed the phone and quickly dialed a number.

"What's the matter?" A sleepy-eyed woman yawned on the other end of the phone.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Drew? I'm Tanko. I'm sorry to disturb your sleep. Is Editor-in-Chief Drew here? Can you please call him for me?"

There was a buzzing voice on the other end of the phone, and Tanko waited patiently. Soon, his editor-in-chief answered the phone, "Has anyone died?" he asked right away.

"What?"

"Is anyone else dead? Why else would you call me so early?"

"No one died, I mean..., I'm sorry, I forgot what time it was."

"Go to hell you bastard."

"But the time doesn't matter," Tanko retracted the swear word he wanted to retaliate. Even though he was facing his own editor-in-chief, he almost couldn't hold it back. "I have great news."

"What news?"

"I found this news in the morning paper that arrived."

"Well, it really makes me feel at ease. My employees are really hard-working. Why, you called me specifically to tell me that on Sunday morning, you were still working tirelessly to find the headlines that "News Photos" needed. Well

, let me think about it, should I

I’ll give you a bonus to reward your diligent spirit.” The tone on the other end of the phone didn’t sound like much of a compliment, followed by a high-pitched roar, “So, this is why you took me out of bed early in the morning.

Reason for waking up in bed, you bastard."

"No, Drew. Will you listen to me? I have detailed evidence that Francisco Trading Company colluded with central bank insiders to embezzle funds from the Catholic Church Charitable Fund. You will never believe it. This is so sensational.

."

"How did you get it".

"Put it right outside my door."

"It's wrapped like a gift, right?" The editor-in-chief had never tried so hard to hide his sarcastic tone, let alone so early in the morning.

"But it's hard to believe, Drew."

"It must be hard to believe. So who put this little gift outside your door? Santa Claus?"

"Uh, um... I don't know," a trace of doubt finally crept into Tanko's voice. Drew's words made him couldn't help but start thinking about it. Finally, he couldn't help but shuddered. Only then did Drew realize that his upper body

He was naked and without any clothes on. He reached out and picked up the bathrobe and put it on himself.

"Well, I don't think it was Juan Francisco who put it there himself. So who do you think wanted to leak it to you?"

Tanko fell silent, betraying his confusion.

"I guess you didn't have fun with any beautiful woman last night, right?"

"Drew, what does that have to do with this?"

"This is a trap. Some of my ignorant political reporters are probably sitting in the bar at this moment, drinking poison to fight poison, laughing loudly as you take the shovel they hand you.

Then dig a big hole big enough to bury eighteen generations of your ancestors. I simply can’t bear to talk about it anymore.”

"Then how do you know?" Tanko turned his head suspiciously and looked at the girl he met last night who was still sleeping after having sex with him.

"I don't really know," the suppressed anger burst out again, "But the problem is, Superman wearing underwear outside, you don't really know either."

There was another awkward silence on Tanko's side. He tried to pull up the bathrobe that had slipped off, but failed. Then he made a desperate attempt to convince the editor-in-chief, "Don't you want to hear the content of this thing?

"

"No, you don't even know where this damn thing came from. Remember, the more sensational it looks, the greater the possibility of you being framed. Just think of it as a prank.

"

"Bang," the sound of hanging up the phone exploded in his ears. Even if Tanko wasn't hungover, the sound was enough to give him a headache for a long time.

The front-page headline that he had already formed in his mind gradually dissipated in the bright morning sunshine.

This hangover was a million times worse than the previous ones. He needed a cup of black coffee at this moment. He really needed it. Just like Drew said, he had made himself into a big joke. This was not the first time.

This has happened once, but this is the first time I have been naked like this.

So Tanko decided to put all this aside and went down to the luxuriously decorated and spacious lobby of the hotel. While walking towards the restaurant where he had breakfast, he cursed the editor-in-chief in a voice that he could only hear.

It was still early, and only a few people who seemed extremely enthusiastic about their work had arrived.

He chose a table and sat down alone, asked the waiter for an omelette and a cup of coffee, and then sat there, praying to God that no one would bother him again. He needed some time to recover from the shock and discomfort just now.

to recover from the feeling.

He hid himself in a sunken corner of the restaurant, covering his face with a copy of the San Salvador Journal, hoping that everyone would think he was working hard instead of trying to overcome the discomfort caused by his hangover.

After eating the food, the effect of the first cup of coffee was as minimal as water. The second cup had some effect, at least a little bit. The depression and decadence that gripped his whole soul slowly dissipated, and he began to notice the surroundings.

Other things in the restaurant.

His eyes searched the small Victorian room.

In a far corner, another political journalist who looked somewhat familiar was having a close conversation with an official. At the next table, there was a senior party member of the Nationalist Republican Alliance having breakfast with several other people, including

His wife, a news commentator, an editor from a certain newspaper like him, and two other people whom Tanko seemed familiar with but could not name for the time being.

This is politics. There is no personal space at all. Even when you spend time with your wife, you will be surrounded by all kinds of buzzing flies.

Tanko sighed like this, seeming to have forgotten that he was one of the group of creatures he called "flies".

However, his eyes were attracted by a table of familiar people. It was not because his brain had overcome the influence of the hangover and started to work soberly at high speed. It was because the face of one of them had appeared frequently in the past few days.

On TV, in newspapers, and on various news stations, there is also the "hot figure" President of the Central Bank of El Salvador, Maduro Cavizon.

His sitting posture is similar to that of Tanko, and he has an attitude of hoping that people in the restaurant can't see him. There is also a pile of newspapers and a few folders piled on the chair next to him, and he looks a bit like a sloppy scholar. This look is consistent with

His identity doesn't match his identity at all.

But it can be forgiven, who made his life difficult in the past few days.

The Independence Palace not only rejected the crisis response report submitted by the central bank's policy committee, but also immediately abolished the policy committee, a think tank within the central bank, and carried out extensive reforms within the central bank.

Moreover, the power to formulate plans to respond to the crisis and policies to stimulate El Salvador's domestic economic revitalization was stripped from the central bank and handed over to a large group of "foreigners" in the presidential advisory body of the Independence Palace. This completely lost El Salvador's power.

initiative to manage this crisis.

However, Tanko's attention was not entirely focused on Maduro. He was completely attracted by a young man sitting opposite Maduro. If he did not admit his mistake, that young man was the one he had just met.

My own editor mentioned Juan Francisco, the actual controller of Francisco Trading Company and the son of President Jose.

As the caffeine steadily exerted its effects, the reporter's professional instinct gradually returned to Tanko. Thinking of the document that was staying in his guest room at the moment, thinking of the editor-in-chief Drew's ridicule and reminder to him, he finally got a

The impulse of big news drove him to make his own decision...