America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Chapter 127 Oh God, someone has fallen into the water (more tonight)

9:30 PM. Pier 51, New York Harbor.

The massive "Olympic" ship, like a steel castle, is quietly moored beside the dock.

Some passengers, dressed in heavy overcoats and looking hurried, lined up in the cold wind to wait for their tickets to be checked.

Jimmy Walker stood alone at the end of the line.

He was wearing an extremely thick and expensive cashmere coat, and to avoid being recognized, he turned the collar up very high, almost covering half of his face.

He was carrying a heavy leather suitcase tightly in his hands.

The suitcase did not contain the so-called ledger that the Tammany Society feared.

Inside, he was the only one who, in those few short hours, frantically sold off all the physical assets he could carry, obtaining a large sum of cash and bearer bonds.

This was his only hope for continuing his extravagant lifestyle in Europe for the rest of his life, and also his last remaining dignity.

He couldn't help but glance back at the Manhattan lights shrouded in rain and mist.

That city was once his private playground. There, he wielded immense power, indulging in nightly revelry, and could decide the fate of millions with a single word.

But now, he was like a stray dog ​​with scabies, ruthlessly driven out.

He hated Samuel's relentless pressure and Roosevelt's ruthlessness.

But the person he hated most was that young man named Arthur Kennedy.

If it weren't for that bastard relentlessly attacking him like a mad dog in the newspapers, he would never have ended up in this miserable state.

Walker gritted his teeth and thought to himself, "Once I've settled down in Paris or London, I'm going to spend a fortune to find some real outlaws and go back to New York to take care of that pen-wielding troublemaker."

A crew member standing on the ship's side, holding a megaphone, interrupted his vicious thoughts.

The crew shouted, "The boarding gates are about to close! Passengers bound for Cherbourg, France, please board immediately!"

Walker looked away, picked up his heavy suitcase, and followed the flow of people toward the narrow wooden gangway.

Because of the freezing rain and the sudden drop in temperature, a thin layer of black ice formed on the exposed gangway planks, making them extremely slippery.

The passengers ahead were carefully holding onto the railing, walking extremely slowly.

Walker followed behind a tall man in a long gray trench coat, the heavy suitcase in his hands making his steps seem somewhat clumsy.

Just as he reached the middle of the suspended gangway, he was standing a dozen meters above the water.

A loader wearing a waterproof work uniform behind me suddenly quickened his pace without warning.

The worker seemed to lose control, slamming his shoulder into Walker's back with tremendous force, and mumbled, "Excuse me, sir! The floor is too slippery!"

But this was by no means an ordinary bump; the force of the impact was astonishing.

Walker lost his balance instantly on the icy wooden board.

His eyes widened in horror, and he instinctively reached out his free hand to grab the iron railing next to the gangway.

At that moment, the tall man in the gray trench coat walking in front of him suddenly stopped inexplicably.

The tall man suddenly turned to the side, raising his elbow with an extremely natural yet powerful motion, just enough to block Walker's fingers that desperately reached for the railing.

Walker's last chance to save himself was completely cut off.

Walker frantically waved his arms in mid-air, letting out a very short scream: "Ahhhhhh!"

"But he still clung tightly to the heavy leather suitcase containing all his wealth, refusing to let go."

The suitcase, weighing several dozen pounds, pulled him off balance, like a huge boulder, dragging him off the unprotected edge of the gangway.

He plunged straight into the bottomless, dark crevice between the hard stone walls of the dock and the steel hull of the giant ship.

They vanished almost instantly.

Just then, someone in the line ahead cried out in alarm, "My God, someone has fallen into the water!"

A small commotion immediately broke out on the slowly moving gangway.

The passengers in line all looked around.

Several crew members who realized what was happening immediately grabbed powerful flashlights, leaned over the railing, and anxiously shone them into the water between the two ships.

However, nothing could be seen where the beam of light swept across.

The Hudson River is bottomless and flows directly into the sea. In winter, the temperature is close to freezing, making it bitterly cold.

The extremely thick cashmere coat Walker was wearing absorbed the icy water the moment he fell in, turning into a deadly lead suit.

In addition, he was still tightly gripping the heavy leather trunk full of gold and bonds, which caused his muscles to spasm severely in the extremely cold water.

He didn't even have a chance to surface for air, or even struggle and call for help, before he sank to the dark, lightless bottom of the river like a heavy iron weight.

The "careless" worker who hit the man and the trench coat man who "happened" to block him quickly retreated off the gangway amidst the chaos and exclamations of the crowd.

They tacitly lowered their hat brims and, under the cover of night, disappeared in the blink of an eye into the complex piles of goods around the dock.

In the shadows of the distant dock, a black Ford sedan with its engine still running was parked.

Arthur sat in the back seat of the car, his gaze piercing through the rain as he coldly watched the commotion unfolding on the gangway in the distance.

Sean, sitting in the driver's seat, glanced at Arthur through the rearview mirror and reported to his superior in a low voice.

"The person fell. I saw it clearly; those two must have been professional assassins, their coordination was absolutely flawless."

Arthur nodded slightly. Just as he had predicted, this cannibalistic system ultimately devoured its once proudest representative in the most cruel way.

Arthur rolled up the car window, shutting out the sound of the wind and rain outside.

"Let's go, this is none of our business."

The following morning, New York City enjoyed a rare sunny winter day.

The blinding sunlight shone on the icy road surface from last night, reflecting a dazzling light.

Major newspapers, including The New York Times, prominently featured Jimmy Walker's resignation yesterday afternoon on their front pages.

The editorials were filled with optimistic expectations that New York was about to usher in a period of political clarity, and some people had even begun to campaign for LaGuardia's election.

But in a very inconspicuous corner of the third page of The New York Times, a brief social news item of less than a hundred words was published.

It is reported that a ferry accident occurred at Pier 51 last night, when a passenger slipped and fell down the gangway due to the rainy weather.

After a late-night emergency search and rescue operation, the Port Authority and Marine Police did not find the drowning victim and presumed him dead. New York Police Department initially determined the incident to be an unfortunate accident.

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