Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1452 Wilson Fisk's Ambition (Second Update)

"Hurry up, James, our most important investor is impatient."

“A mystery investor,” James added. “You acted like someone had a knife to your throat.”

Wilson Fisker couldn't allow United Construction to remain merely a construction contractor; he wanted to be a developer and real estate tycoon, which inevitably led to conflict with established Manhattan real estate companies. Fortunately, he seized an opportunity—a plunge in New York real estate stock prices—to obtain substantial funds from his backers to acquire those shares. The 9/11 attacks cast a psychological shadow on Americans, now compounded by the Battle of New York, Emperor Latvian's speech at the UN headquarters, and the image of war engines dozens of meters high destroying Wall Street.

Under the guidance of certain individuals, Wilson Fisker cleverly used numerous shell companies to repeatedly and extensively acquire shares in military, pharmaceutical, and food companies. He intended to hold these stocks long-term, foreseeing the ongoing wars and recognizing that weapons, medicines, and food would become appreciating hard currencies. However, he was merely a front man for many influential figures. Disagreements between Republican and Democratic state legislators were channeled through investors, ultimately flowing into Wilson Fisker's coffers and projects, with both sides' money coexisting harmoniously to create wealth.

“I don’t understand why you’re in such a hurry, Fisk.” James Wesley adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, slowly scribbling on his memo. He was largely responsible for United Construction’s current semi-legal status, partly due to Wilson Fisk’s ambitious goals, which prevented him from being content with being a gangster boss controlling a few communities. James Wesley didn’t look up, but his tone was much sharper than usual. “The last weapons shipment almost cost us another felony, and the profit margin was extremely low. This isn’t the right way to do business, not even if you donated to the Rifle Association.”

"My friend, some businesses are not meant to make money, but rather to ensure the survival of other businesses."

"Aren't the checks we've given to senators and governors enough?" James Wesley said. "Their appetites are getting bigger and bigger."

"The world will soon be in chaos. Everyone is on edge right now. The Fed's gold reserves... When the financial markets completely collapse, there will be no America. Only those with an army on this land will have a voice. We need to build up our strength, even to control an army. We don't just make money, James, we make money to give ourselves and our families a better life."

"You miss Vanessa," James Wesley astutely pointed out the problem. James Wesley had initially opposed his friend's infatuation with the museum director, but given his friend's persistent insistence, he couldn't find anything to say to persuade Wilson Fisk, a man who had never experienced love in his life, to reject the relationship. "Can I ask her how she is?"

"She's doing well." Wilson Fisk sighed, unusually covering his face to hide the weariness and anger in his eyes. His only means of communication with Vanessa now was a prepaid anti-tracking phone, and even that wasn't American or European made. Each call had a time limit to prevent the FBI from discovering unregistered communication signals in the building. He knew why James Wesley had rushed back today; it was definitely because that bastard senator in Las Vegas had interfered with the casino license issue. He knew James Wesley had put a lot of effort into this, and there was no need for his friend to worry about Vanessa anymore.

After that so-called Daredevil handed over the collected evidence to the FBI last time, James Wesley went to great lengths to completely destroy it. He paid a heavy price, and Wilson Fisk never took his friends' efforts for granted; the trust and money he gave were rewards for James Wesley's loyalty and hard work.

Sadness and anger are fleeting.

Wilson Fisk picked up his diamond cane, which was leaning against the table, and stood up from his chair.

James Wesley was glad his friend hadn't continued to wallow in despair; that was completely out of character for this profession. They weren't the old-fashioned, family-centric Mafia, with the time and inclination to consider legacy, family, and other emotional factors. If he had to say, James Wesley would have preferred Wilson to use that cane to smash a few people's heads. The last time he crushed someone's head with a car door was brilliant, though dealing with the vehicle was a bit of a hassle, since it was not only expensive but also registered as a company car.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, James. You’re my best friend, but I’m worried that knowing this will burden you and put your life in danger. The people protecting Vanessa are far more ruthless than Hillary. The CIA is like a lamb compared to them. I’ve seen them skin people alive; it’s the most terrifying nightmare. Just looking at it can drive a person insane.” Wilson Fisk’s eyes were cold. He took the document from James Wesley’s hand, which contained the terms proposed by a Nevada senator. The gangs controlling the Las Vegas casinos have gone through several generations, and the newly emerging United Construction Company will inevitably encounter resistance from other gangs that have already formed alliances. The senator’s intervention, asking only for money, is already very merciful. “Fortunately, making a deal with the devil isn’t without its advantages. At least the devil keeps his promises; at least the devil is more trustworthy than politicians.”

"What are you planning to do?"

"Rumor has it that King Solomon made a deal with the devil and gained wisdom," Wilson Fisk said. "Intelligence is wisdom, my friend. The Republican Party's influence here is waning; perhaps it's necessary to replace them with a more compliant senator."

"Even with the scandal involving the Nevada 3rd Congressional District Senator, the investigation and impeachment process will take time. It's questionable whether our Las Vegas casino chain can survive that long under the siege of the local gangs." James Wesley shook his head. "I know you want to establish your authority, but how do you know that after all this effort, the next guy to take over won't be just as greedy? It's too early to set up operations in Las Vegas now. Although I don't object in principle, you did it anyway. Doing so while the FBI is watching us closely is undoubtedly attracting attention, and we're facing far more trouble than we anticipated."

"Don't be so rigid, James. We can accidentally leak some information to the FBI, like non-existent transaction records. False information doesn't matter, as long as the rest of the information is true. Of course, I'm not so stubborn as to think everyone is an enemy. Do it my way, and I trust my friends will get the intelligence to me when the time is right."

"If I'm not mistaken, your friend and the organization protecting Vanessa are the same one," James Wesley said. "No one could get their hands on so many well-preserved Soviet-made weapons."

"You're so smart, James. You must know not to make a sound after you meet them. If the FBI finds out about this connection, we'll face charges of treason and terrorism—that is, if they even find out."

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(End of this chapter)