Manhattan Reborn 1978

(A few paragraphs were deleted from this chapter, which gave me a terrible headache...)

new York.

Dawn~

Manhattan, fourth floor of Gold Coin Hotel.

Mr. Gardener put down the coffee cup in his hand, frowned at the phone that rang again, and reached out to pick it up.

The person on the other end of the phone seemed very anxious and hung up the phone after only speaking briefly on the phone.

Mr. Gardener looked at the microphone in his hand in surprise. He suddenly felt no longer tired. After thinking for a few seconds, he dialed a number.

----

Houston, Texas.

In a high-end hotel in the city center.

David was sitting in the living room of a suite, frowning and staring at the huge world map spread out on the carpet, silent.

"Bell bell~"

When the phone rang, Elena, who was by his side, picked up the phone and listened for a few seconds before passing it to David.

"Hey~ it's me."

"Is this news confirmed?"

"Um.."

"it is good!"

"If you try to find out more specific information, I will keep waiting."

"Thanks for your hard work!"

"Ok."

Putting down the phone, David patted Elena beside him, stood up and walked to the middle of the map on the carpet. He sat in the middle of the "Pacific Ocean" and his eyes kept moving back and forth between various countries in the Middle East and northern Vietnam~

Elena, who had been with him all night, picked up the coffee pot next to her, poured half a cup of warm coffee for David, and sat on the carpet behind him and asked.

"Is there really a fight over there?"

"Ok!"

David looked at the map with passion in his heart. After taking the coffee and drinking it, he did not mention the counterattack war that broke out on the other side of the Pacific. Instead, he stared at the Middle East and said.

"OPEC member states, meeting in Kuwait City has concluded."

"Cartels, Libya, Nigeria and Kuwait all agree with Saudi Arabia's plan to increase crude oil production."

"Although Iraq has expressed support for Saudi Arabia's production increase plan, their domestic oil production equipment is already operating at full capacity, and it will be difficult to increase production in the short term to earn foreign exchange from exports."

Elena's eyes sparkled, she took David's arm and asked: "So... you successfully predicted the oil crisis?"

"no~"

David stared at the Middle East on the map, Iran, whose territory is second only to Saudi Arabia, and whispered.

"Just like accidents and coincidences will always happen in this world!"

"It's not that I predicted the oil crisis, but that many key figures made the most beneficial and correct decision for themselves when dealing with a series of events."

"I just discovered the clues left after these events ended and speculated on them."

"The prediction is accurate, it's just my luck."

"The prediction failed, and my biggest loss is... If I predict it next time, no one will believe me so much."

David shook his head gently with a trace of self-deprecation on his lips: "Most people like to follow the strong man who they think is right. They don't want to be independent and make pitiful judgments about why he can choose the right one..."

"I am more accustomed to analyzing and judging more unknowns based on my own logic and cognition."

"By the way, it's not unusual."

"Wrong, but it will help me learn more!"

"So even if a new oil crisis breaks out tomorrow, I will not let myself fall into false pride."

"I will still focus on doing what I can see. This is the most stable thing!"

"Well..." Elena snuggled on his shoulder, quietly enjoying the solitude at this moment.

But what she didn't know was that at this moment, David's heart was already filled with these two historical events that had been engraved in his memory, causing his blood to surge up, and he almost shouted out loud uncontrollably.

. . .

ten minutes later.

David finally calmed down completely.

He moved his fingers back and forth on the map, and finally landed on Toyama City, Toyama Prefecture, in the central and western part of the island country, and said to Elena.

"Let's go back to New York today~"

"The list I told you, you help pass it on to Polly and Sam so that they don't have to worry about funding~"

"I will let Gayden Milken assist with the details of the acquisition plan~"

"and also!"

"This time Zina is planning an art auction when she goes back, and I want you to help her~"

"By the way, you can also get in touch with some high-quality customers, which will facilitate the business development of private jet sharing companies."

David tilted his head to look at Elena, kissed her charming lips, and said against her forehead.

"Wait until this summer, I will finish all the important things at hand~"

"I will take you around the world!"

"Is there a place you most want to visit?"

"Yes~"

Elena's eyes were smiling like a crescent moon, and she smiled sweetly: "I want to go to Antarctica to see penguins!"

"..." David rolled his eyes speechlessly and complained.

“Who said you have to go to Antarctica to see penguins?”

"Ah? Don't penguins live in Antarctica?"

"That's right~ But we can also go to the aquarium in Australia to see it."

Elena tilted her head and rolled her eyes at him, but she pulled his arm hard and whispered.

"We'll talk about the next thing later~"

"It's almost dawn, let's go and rest first."

"...ok!" David saw the light in Elena's eyes, and felt like he had turned into a weak Little Red Riding Hood.

----

new York.

Early morning~

Manhattan, in front of Wildfire Bar on 42nd Street.

Mike Bai "jumped" out of the car, happily took out a large box from the trunk, and broke into the bar.

in the bar.

Mengo, the steel-toothed dog, licked the cheese sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth, and asked Mike in a weird expression.

"What are you going to do?"

"Ha~ What do you think?" Mike Bai put the box down pretending to be mysterious, looked around the bar, and asked.

"Where are Erica and the others?"

"Go back and take a shower and go to bed~ What?"

"Don't you have to go and accompany Erica?" Menge, the steel-toothed dog, deliberately showed his shining front teeth and teased.

"Hehe~"

Mike Bai pointed at his "bad friend" Menge a few times with a wicked smile on his face: "Then I'll go back first. You can help me give this box of ingredients to Chef Zhang of Wild Fire Restaurant later."

"Okay!" Menge glanced at the box and nodded.

ten minutes later.

Zhang Wenbiao (Brother Biao) carried the box to the bar and took it away.

Menge wandered to the door of the bar and watched Brother Biao walk into the Wild Fire Restaurant in the distance. Then he looked around, turned and returned to the bar.

About half an hour passed.

Old Rhett and Giovanni's wife Jin Ji came to the bar to take over.

Mengo said hello to the two of them, left the bar and got into the car, preparing to go to his old house in the Bronx to pick up things.

But when he just started the car and was about to leave, the passenger door of the car was opened from the outside. A middle-aged man wearing a dark brown coat sat in the car under Menge's surprised gaze.

"You...have been waiting for me?"

"Ok!"

"Tell me, what's the matter?"

The middle-aged man looked at Menge silently, slowly took out an envelope from his pocket, and whispered.

"I don't have many friends..."

"They all like to call me Wasim."

"I wanted to thank you, Mengo."

"This is my little thought, I hope you won't refuse!"

Menge looked down at the envelope that was stuffed into his hand, and immediately understood what was inside, and joked with a smile.

"You robbed a bank?"

"..No!"

"Then where did the money come from?"

Wasim, who had gray hair and an appearance full of the vicissitudes of time, shook his head slightly and smiled with a twitching corner of his mouth.

"It's better you don't know this..."

"fxxx!" Menge couldn't help but spit out a curse word, threw the envelope back, started the car, and laughed at himself.

"Take it back~"

"If I need money, I will ask you for help!"

"Okay!" Wasim nodded simply, put the envelope away, turned his head and glanced at the auxiliary police office that disappeared behind him, and said.

"Farr took me to many places in the past two days and found some clues about my daughter's case."

"But these clues can't prove anything at present, and they don't have much value."

While driving the car, Menge looked in the left and right rearview mirrors and said, "Ever since you first came to the bar, I had a premonition that you would come back to me."

"How can I help you?"

Wasim clenched his fist with his left hand, stared forward and narrowed his eyes slightly, and whispered: "Far Pochvino is a good policeman."

"But he can't..."

"I want to know more clues that Farr can't find!"

"for example?"

"For example... there must be a gang in New York that is secretly running a human trafficking business!"

"Hehe~"

Menge glanced at Wasim with a complicated expression and said, "No wonder you haven't been able to find any useful clues after coming to New York to investigate for so long."

"The direction of your investigation is wrong!"

"Oh?" Wasim frowned, waiting for Menge's explanation.

Menge looked at the red light ahead, stopped the car slowly and said, "Far should have reminded or hinted you, but you failed to understand..."

"You want to avenge your daughter and find out the person behind all this. This goal itself is extremely difficult to achieve~"

"New York is just a place where retail and wholesalers gather to sell stolen goods."

"In the entire chain, if you only survey the customers who buy girls here in New York... it will be useless!"

"Those rich people may not treat these girls as much as they would a toy or a pet."

"Even if we kill them all, another wave will appear after a while."

"So~"

Menge tilted his head and looked at Wasim, shook his head and said: "If you want to thoroughly understand the participants and manipulators of this business, you must find an insider and ask him to help you!"

"..." Wasim said in a dry voice after thinking silently for a moment.

"Fal and I can't find anyone inside who is willing to help. Can you help me?"

"Of course I can't."

Menge sneered and said: "I told you, you are going in the wrong direction!"

"Why do you have to rush around so recklessly to attract their attention and vigilance?"

"Look for clues. You can investigate from other directions and angles!"

"What about...?" Wasim asked with heavy breathing.

"Like, prison!"

Menge pointed back with his hand and said with a smile: "Since I was a teenager, I have been in and out of police stations and prisons."

"Most people who are transferred to the police station will shout that they are innocent..."

"But when they were sentenced to prison, they became completely different people..."

"Because they know that it will be difficult for them to successfully appeal and they will have to suffer in prison."

Menge parked the car on the street, looked around and said, "Get off here~"

"Tonight, you come to the bar to meet me."

"I will help you find some friends in prison to help you and see if you can find someone who knows the inside story."

"Okay, take it!" Wasim gave Menge the envelope he had just collected and said with a smile.

"..." Menge weighed the envelope in his hand twice, raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

"If this thing is done, at least three more will be needed."

"no problem!"

"ok~"

Wasim, who was determined to avenge his daughter, left.

Menge started the car, glanced at his back in the rearview mirror, and put a little force on his feet to make the car run quickly.

----

the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

Nakhodka commercial port in the Far East region of Xiong Daguo.

night~

To the southwest of the port, there is a hospital "hidden" in the dense forest.

Marat Poyezhnev finally met his old friend Uncle Ivanov Cilic Popov, whom he had not seen for many years.

But the meeting place between the two was not in an ordinary ward, but in a special ward in the basement of the hospital.

Here, there are no bright lights, no clean beds, no clean and tidy walls, just an old mattress and two chairs. .

Marat walked up to the haggard-looking Uncle Popov and hugged him hard, unable to say anything.

At this time, Popov was no longer as "healthy" as when the two met on the tanker. He patted Marat twice with his haggard hand and whispered.

"You're still here..."

"Ok!"

"But why do you want to come back?"

"Aren't you afraid..."

Marat let go of his uncle, carefully observed his eyes and expression at close range, and asked calmly.

"What do you think I'm afraid of?"

Popov glanced at the two people standing outside the door, closed his mouth and did not answer.

Marat also looked back, turned and walked to the door, whispered a few words to the two of them, and took it out of his pocket. .He stuffed it into their hands and stood there watching them go away.

Then he closed the door, pulled Uncle Popov to sit down on the chair, looked at him with burning eyes and asked.

"I have a way for you to take your family out of here!"

"..where to?"

“Canada, or anywhere in the world!”

"..real?"

"Correct!"

"..." Popov looked at Marat quietly for a while, shook his head slightly, and said in a very small voice.

"Thank you!"

"But I can't believe you..."

"Oh?" Marat asked again with a hint of surprise in his eyes and his heart beating a little faster.

"Do you not believe that I have this ability? Or do you not believe that they are willing to let you go?"

"I... don't even believe it!"

Popov's eyes turned around Marat a few times, and finally stopped on his forehead and whispered.

"You two look so alike!"

"Even the scar on your forehead is almost the same."

"...!?" Marat asked as if he was struck by lightning. He took two deep breaths, his whole body numb, and quickly calmed down his fluctuating mood.

"What are you talking about?"

"This scar on my forehead is..."

"Yes, I know."

"There are only two of us here, no one is watching, and no one is listening~ You don't have to act anymore!"

"...!" Marat put his hands on his knees and stared at Popov for a while, then silently stood up and walked out.

Popov looked at the iron door that was opened and closed, his eyes lowered, and he sighed silently.

After a few minutes.

Marat came back holding a yellow paper bag often seen in stores.

He closed the door and asked calmly while taking out various cans and two bottles of vodka from the bag.

"When did you see it?"

"I didn't see it..."

"Then you are..." Marat stopped moving with even more confusion in his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

Popov reached out and picked up a can of beef beans, touched the colorful label paper on it with his fingertips, and said softly with an unknown smile on his lips.

"After I received your first call, I asked my friends in Moscow for help and started investigating you!"

"But after our third contact, I just received the news from that friend, and they came to my door!"

"...fxxx!" Marat spat out a curse word speechlessly, unscrewed the cap of the vodka bottle, and shook his head helplessly.

"It turns out they were overly nervous..."

"Feel sorry!"

Popov seemed to have let go of a big stone in his heart. He reached for the bottle and took a few sips, wiping his mouth and smiling.

"Can you... let my little daughter go?"

"..." Marat opened his own bottle of vodka, drank a few gulps under Popov's gaze, sat down and wiped his mouth.

"I came back all this time just to take your whole family away!"

"why?"

"Only if I die will I continue to hide my identity from you... Wouldn't it be more beneficial?"

"No!" Marat explained, opening a can of smoked fish.

"I'm Marat and you're one of my dad's best friends!"

"I can't just watch you...after being used by me, you fell into a desperate situation..."

Popov raised the wine bottle in front of his eyes, looked at him through the mouth of the bottle feeling a little ridiculous, and asked: "Marat, is he dead?"

"Yes."

"More than ten years ago, Marat was accidentally hit on the head in a black market fight and died a few months later."

"At that time, the headquarters prepared a total of four alternative identities for me. In terms of appearance alone, he is the most similar to me..."

"So, after I completed my training at the First General Administration, they arranged for me to impersonate his identity and apply for asylum in the United States."

"..." Popov licked his lips, silently poured some of the wine in the bottle onto the ground, and then took a few more gulps.

Marat opened all the cans, took out two sets of knives and forks from the paper bag, placed them on the cans, and continued talking to himself.

"Initially, the headquarters did not give me any specific tasks. They just asked me to go to the United States to live and work among Jewish immigrants."

"When the time is right, they will send someone to contact me."

"Can.."

Popov suddenly picked up the cutlery, interrupted him, and asked: "You told me on the phone that you joined a gang in New York?"

"Did you get together with those thieves who came out of the Gulag?"

"..." Marat nodded with lowered eyes.

Popov felt even more sarcastic as he took a bite of beef and said with a smile: "I also came out of the Gulag..."

"You want to tell me everything?"

"Yes!" Marat looked up at Popov very confidently and smiled.

"A lie requires countless lies to cover it up..."

"I don't want to lie anymore."

"Especially to you, Uncle Popov!"

Popov's expression slowly turned serious and he asked again: "Why?"

"It's very simple~" Marat suddenly felt that his way of expression had changed a little, and he smiled very relaxedly.

"I don't plan to hide my identity from my boss anymore."

Popov was even more confused and asked: "Has he made it clear to you? Or is he starting to doubt you?"

"nothing."

"But I have a feeling~ He asked me to go to Hawaii and after meeting me, he should have guessed something..."

"Feel?"

"Correct!"

Marat took a sip of vodka and said with a smile: "It's that feeling of uneasiness and guilt."

"I can't find any more appropriate words to describe it..."

Popov shook his head speechlessly, stared at Marat for a while, and whispered: "I can go with you, but my family can't."

"Hehe~"

Marat picked up a bean with his hand, put it in his mouth and smiled: "You are a little too cautious, Uncle Popov."

"My job is not what you think."

"I am just an ordinary person responsible for serving the country in the commercial field and will not touch any information involving national secrets."

"Because some special business intelligence is often much more valuable and difficult to obtain than closely watched national confidential information!"

"You were trained by the state... as a commercial spy?"

"..." Marat didn't explain any more and just shrugged as acquiescence.

Popov rubbed his forehead with his hands, feeling a little confused for a moment.