Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 89 Naked Choke Plan
Which American railroad, mine, or industry doesn't have the shadow of London bankers and investors behind it?
Wall Street capitalists, compared to the real old money on the banks of the Thames, are nothing more than a bunch of nouveau riche who have just made a fortune and still need to be taught a lesson.

The British pound is the world's hard currency!

London is the central tap of global capital.

Now that assassins have arrived in London and successfully established a foothold.

Therefore, some underhanded tactics outside the California battlefield can also begin.

Sausalito Terminal, Northern Pacific Coast Railroad (NPC).

This local power broker, entrenched along the redwood and livestock transport routes in Northern California, is the last obstacle in Lawson White Tiger Security's legalization of its business empire.

To deal with a financial giant like the Southern Pacific Railroad, Lawson needs to remain on the sidelines for now.

But dealing with NPCs...

A railway company listed in both San Francisco and London, a company whose fate is almost entirely in the hands of its president, Milton Rutham.

Lawson smiled slightly.

Dealing with this kind of enemy with guns is too unclean and doesn't end well. Using capital is the fastest and most elegant way to decapitate them!
The assassins lurking in San Francisco and other locations received orders from Lawson.

A multi-pronged attack on the North Pacific Coast Railroad has officially begun.

First, we begin by constructing a financial attack matrix.

In London, New York, and San Francisco, there are nine assassins in each city, with twenty-seven identities.

These people have no connection in the physical world.

However, they will each open accounts with different brokerage firms and banks.

Some will buy small amounts of NPC stock, pretending to be a loyal investor.

Some will start asking how to short sell.

A hidden financial network has quietly begun to unfold.

Next, we need to start infiltrating the NPCs' minds and hearts.

If the financial matrix is ​​a sniper rifle aimed at the enemy's head, then physical infiltration is the dagger pressed against the enemy's heart.

[Infiltrating the Brain: San Francisco's Financial District]

[Target: Milton Rutham's London and San Francisco banks]

This is the NPC's money bag.

It is the nerve center for Ratsom to mobilize funds, maintain share price, and connect with London investors!

Two days later.

An Irish cleaner named Tom, carrying a bucket and a mop, walked into the bank's luxurious marble lobby.

He would occasionally glimpse the client lists and loan drafts that hadn't yet been locked in the safe when no one was around 4 a.m. every day.

three days later.

A fast-moving messenger was put in charge of delivering telegrams and letters in this block.

He always managed to deliver the most urgent letters just as Ratsom's carriage arrived, and just as Ratsom was about to overhear him giving certain instructions to his confidants.

a week later.

The old coachman, who was an alcoholic, was fired on the spot by an angry Rutham because he fell asleep at the wheel and nearly caused the carriage to plunge into the bay.

They then replaced him with a middle-aged German man with excellent driving skills.

He successfully became Latham's personal coachman.

He will then become Lawson's ear.

Lawson needs to know everything.

How much loan does NPC actually have at the bank?

What assets did they mortgage? Was it the redwood forest? Or the Sausalito dock itself?
What is Latham's personal financial situation? Is he also using his personal assets to guarantee the company's stock price?

What kind of person is he? Arrogant? Or suspicious? When does he panic? Which subordinate does he trust most? How often does he contact investors in London?
In the financial battlefield, information is the bullet.

……

[Penetrating the Heart: The Sausalito Port and Railway Line.]

[Target: The NPCs' vital physical lifelines: the docks, the repair shop, and the northbound railway line.]

If the bank is the brain, then this is the heart from which NPCs depend for survival.

Lawson's assassins began to infiltrate every nook and cranny.

A dockworker, as strong as an ox, joined the loading and unloading team.

He needed to accurately map out the vulnerabilities of the dock.

Which crane is the sole key to loading and unloading giant mahogany logs?

Which unassuming little bridge was the only way for northbound trains to travel?

A silent rail maintenance worker, carrying a hammer and wrench, began his daily routine of inspecting the rails.

He showed an extraordinary sense of responsibility towards the load-bearing structure and bolts of that small bridge.

An experienced ferryman, with his superb skills, boarded the most crucial cargo ferry.

They will be placed in key positions that can execute paralysis orders.

These people aren't there to gather intelligence; they're there to carry out the orders.

They are the fingers of Lawson on the trigger.

These instructions, though seemingly complex and requiring the penetration of dozens of different positions, were executed with ease thanks to the swarm-like operation of the suicide squad.

A suicide coachman could give a dockworker a ride from the city to Sosalito and introduce him to a suicide foreman as a fellow countryman.

A suicide cleaner can steal a soon-to-expire job application form and hand it over to a suicide messenger.

They covered for each other and cooperated effectively.

Once one person successfully takes their place, they can act like a virus, pulling in other assassins and infiltrating every capillary of this massive organization.

Lawson could sense that the massive net targeting Milton Rutham was beginning to tighten.

Once all the assassins here are in place, and once the financial matrix in London and New York is set up, that will be the next step.

He will then send a signal.

In the financial market, a massive wave of short-selling orders could erupt in an instant, driving NPC's stock price plummeting to rock bottom.

Lawson recalled the most classic and unbeatable submission technique from the fighting arena.

Naked chokehold.

Once you're locked out, you either pound the ground frantically or you suffocate and pass out!
Lawson didn't think Rasham had a chance to beg for mercy.

Unless he is willing to hand over the Sausalito dock.

The Sausalito port, and all the railroads along the North Pacific coast, will be his!

……

Sonoma County, on the rugged dirt road leading to Santa Rosa.

"Faster! Faster, Ethan!"

Abigail Redding's screams were splitting; she was extremely nervous.

She clung tightly to Ethan's shirt like a frightened fledgling bird.

Just now, at the bend in the river, her older brother Hank suddenly appeared on the hillside with five family guards.

Without any pleasantries, they opened fire on Ethan.

A bullet even grazed Ethan's ear, nearly hitting him!

Her brothers came to kill him.

This terrified her.

No, she said she couldn't bear to lose Ethan.

"They'll kill you! Run!"

Ethan's expression turned serious. He pulled sharply on the reins, leading the horse into a side path overgrown with bushes.

"Hold on tight, Abby!"

After another frantic jolting, Ethan reined in his horse only after confirming that he had shaken off the pursuers, letting the horse pant heavily in the stream.

"Huff, huff!" Abigail's face was deathly pale as she lay on Ethan's back, trembling uncontrollably.

"Are they gone?"

"For now."

Ethan looked somewhat remorseful. He dismounted and lifted Abigail off the horse.

As soon as she landed, Abigail collapsed into Ethan's arms.

“Ethan, oh God, Ethan…”

She instinctively repeated the name over and over again.

"It's okay, Abby."

Ethan gently stroked her blonde hair, soothing her tenderly: "We're safe now."

"Safe? No!"

Abigail suddenly looked up: "We'll never be safe. As long as we're in Sonoma, we'll never be safe. You have no idea. You have no idea what kind of people they are."

Ethan frowned at just the right moment, cupped her face in his hands, and said with a touch of heartache, "Abby, he is, after all, your father. We truly love each other. Maybe, maybe we should go back, go back together."

I would kneel before him and swear that I would be his cowboy, work for him for ten or twenty years, as long as he could…

"No!"

Abigail shoved Ethan away abruptly, her little face filled with even greater fear.

"Go back? Are you crazy? You're asking for death!"

"Ethan, do you think my father will listen to you?"

"He'll have my brother Hank use that bear-hunting shotgun to smash your head open right in front of me!"

"He won't."

"He can. Do you think our gardener, Miguel, quit his job?"

"Didn't he take his wages and go back to Mexico?"

Abigail gave a bitter smile: "His Mexico is right under that newly opened apple orchard to the east!"

“My third brother told me this himself, because poor Miguel complimented my hair as being like the California sun when I was picking roses, and my dad overheard it.”

"The next day, Miguel disappeared, and Cody, drunk, told me with a laugh that this year's apples would definitely be exceptionally sweet!"

Upon hearing this, a look of horror flashed across Ethan's face.

"my God……"

"Do you understand now?"

Abigail lowered her head, tears streaming down her face: "Father, brother, they are devils, they are tyrants of this land. They only see me as a noble cow. They will never allow me to find my own happiness. They will kill you!"

Ethan remained silent, holding her tightly in his arms.

His hand gently stroked her trembling back, but his eyes were filled with absolute coldness.

It became.

He had personally cut off her escape route, and now this love-struck fool had denied it herself.

"Then where can we go?"

Strawberry Town!

Abigail's eyes lit up: "Strawberry, Marin County, I've heard about it, it's all over the newspapers, it's the safest place in Northern California now!"

“The White Tigers are there. They are heroes. They killed off even the gangs that Pinkerton couldn’t beat. They protect that town. No matter how powerful my father is, he can’t control Marin County. He doesn’t dare to mess with those White Tigers!”

At this moment, Ethan hesitated.

"Abby, are you going to run away? Make me take you with me like a cowardly elopement? Make you bear the stigma of betraying the family? I can't do that to you."

"This isn't your choice, it's mine!"

Abigail cupped Ethan's face in her hands and pleaded, "I've had enough of that house decorated with skulls, I've had enough of my three muscular brothers whose minds are filled with nothing but whiskey and killing, and I've had enough of my father's suffocating control!"

"I'd rather be the wife of an unknown nobody in Strawberry Town than ever return to that golden cage!"

She stood on tiptoe and, with all her might, kissed Ethan.

"Take me away, Ethan, now, immediately!"

"Or you can ride away on horseback, and then tomorrow, come to the apple orchard and offer me a flower!"

"it is good."

Ethan scooped Abigail up and tossed her onto the horse.

"Hold on tight, let's go!"

The warhorse neighed, turned around, and galloped southwest towards Strawberry Town.

Abigail nestled against Ethan's warm chest and closed her eyes happily; she was free.

That evening, at Reading Manor.

On the long oak table in the main dining room, there were sizzling T-bone steaks and barrels of whiskey.

"A bunch of fucking trash!"

Silas's face contorted with rage: "Six men, riding fast horses, couldn't catch up with an artist riding a two-horse?"

The three brothers, Hank, Jesse, and Cody, kept their heads down and didn't dare to breathe.

"Father, that boy is too cunning!"

Hank argued in a muffled voice, "He never takes the main roads, he always goes into those bushes and valleys, and we lost him when it got dark!"

"damn it!"

Silas grabbed his wine glass and downed it in one gulp: "When I catch that bastard, I swear, I'll drag him to his death with a horse!"

"Don't worry, Father."

Jesse's face turned sinister: "I've already sent men to guard all the ferry crossings to San Francisco. He can't get far!"

"As long as he's still in Sonoma, I guarantee I'll bring his head back within three days!"

"Humph."

Silas's anger subsided slightly.

A daughter who eloped wasn't enough to throw him off balance.

"That old fox Abernathy should be here tomorrow, right?"

"Correct."

Jesse immediately chimed in: "He wants three hundred horses. Humph, that old bastard thinks he can take our best Palomino horses for thirty dollars each? He's dreaming!"

"Fifty dollars!"

Silas used the tip of his knife to pick up a piece of beef and stuffed it into his mouth: "Not a single bit less. Tell him that these horses grew up drinking water from the Russian River and eating the fattest grass. Buy it if you want, or get lost. There are plenty of people lining up to take them!"

"clear."

Hank grinned: "I'll show him our sincerity tomorrow, and I guarantee he'll pay up obediently."

"Once we get the money, we'll buy those plots of land in the southern valley."

Silas poured himself another glass of wine: "Our horses need more pasture."

“Father, those farmers on those plots of land, those tough Germans, are not easy to deal with.”

Cody, the youngest son, curled his lip: "They thought our price was too low and refused to sell. Those old bastards even threatened to sue us."

"Sue me? On this land?"

"Hahahaha!"

He put down his knife and fork, picked up a large cigar, and Jesse immediately lit it for him.

"I've been fucking too easy to talk to all these years. Maybe it's because of that pile of bones by the door that's been sitting there for so long that they've all gotten tanned. These new idiots have probably forgotten what kind of temper I, Silas Redding, really have."

He pointed at Jesse with his cigar.

"Find some time and do things well."

"An accident, for example, a careless farmer, drunk one night, knocked over a lantern, and set the hay on fire. Oh, how unfortunate! The whole family perished in the fire. God will protect them!"

(End of this chapter)