America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

Chapter 115 What is Arthur Kennedy really afraid of? (Day 3 of writing 10,000 words a day, please vote!)

On the way back, Walker remembered what Collier had said.

"You thought that becoming mayor meant you could do whatever you wanted, that administrative power could solve everything. You personally intervened, personally threatened people, and had the tax bureau and fire department storm into their stores in broad daylight. And now? Who handed Kennedy that timetable the knife with? It was yourself."

Collier is right.

He tried to suppress Kennedy through administrative means, but each time he did, he lost.

He had Hearst's newspapers smear Kennedy, which resulted in Hearst losing The New York Times.

He sent Dila to deal with the witness, and as a result, Dila ended up in jail.

He had the tax bureau and fire department force those families to attend the banquet, but Kennedy stood at the door, said a few words, handed over a piece of paper, and his operation became the front page of all the newspapers the next day.

Every time he made a move, his opponent could find a loophole in his tactics and turn the whole situation into something more disadvantageous for him.

But Collier made him stop, made him bow his head, made him hand over those powers one by one, and then what?

And Kennedy was still there.

That newspaper is still being printed.

Those rabbit badges are still for sale.

The investigation committee in Sibyl is still in session.

Stopping is impossible, absolutely impossible.

Stopping only gives the other party time to catch their breath and time to move forward.

He recalled a piece of advice given to him by an older colleague many years ago when he was still working at the Tammany Association.

The veteran said that in this industry, there is only one kind of opponent that is the one whose weakness you cannot find.

Some people are afraid of losing their positions. If you threaten to remove them from their posts, they will obey.

Some people are afraid of losing money. If you threaten to disrupt their business, they'll comply.

Some people are afraid of losing face. If you threaten to expose their dirty secrets, they will obey.

If you know what he's afraid of, you can control him. That's the Tammany Association's long-standing business acumen.

But some people, you can't find their weakness.

Just like Arthur Kennedy.

What is he afraid of?

Walker pondered the question over and over again.

Is he afraid of losing his life? It doesn't seem likely.

Every single one of his articles was a direct attack on someone by name; he should know who he has offended.

But when he stood at the entrance of the Plaza Hotel, flashbulbs were shining on him, and he didn't even blink.

Is he afraid of losing money? That doesn't seem likely.

When he first came to New York, he lived in a run-down place like a low-rent apartment in Brooklyn, earning a weekly wage of twenty dollars.

Later, he got incredibly lucky and hooked up with the Harrison family's rich daughter, and then bought the assets of the New York Daily News.

Money seemed to him to be just a tool, not his lifeblood.

Is he afraid of losing his reputation? That seems unlikely.

His reputation was built on his writing, on his insults, not on the praise of the social circle.

Hearst tried to smear him, and everyone knows what happened.

What is he afraid of?

Walker found himself unable to come up with an answer.

That's the most terrifying part. He couldn't figure out that person.

He could imagine how Kennedy would react when the tax authorities came to his door, how he would react when the fire department conducted a surprise inspection, and how he would react when any administrative measures were used to suppress him.

Every time he was on the right track, but every time he guessed the wrong outcome.

Kennedy's every counterattack was unexpected.

This person cannot be suppressed by administrative means, by public opinion, or by legal intimidation.

But Walker knew one thing.

Some things don't require finding a weakness.

Some things are beyond the capacity of anyone to withstand.

Walker rolled up the car window, leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and fell into thought.

He had considered this option.

He was just waiting for a reason to tell himself that this option was necessary and that he was forced into it.

Collier gave him that reason today.

Collier said the association wanted him to stop, to back down, and to relinquish those powers.

Collier said that if Kennedy can't be dealt with through legitimate means, then don't touch him anymore.

But Collier did not say that other means could not be used.

Walker mentally went through this logic and found the gap he was looking for.

He opened his eyes and gave the driver an address.

"Red Hook Zone"

Honggou District, waterfront warehouse, 10 PM.

This place is not marked as having any particular purpose on any official map.

On paper, it belongs to an import and export trading company, whose relationship with the Tammany Association is completely concealed by several layers of complex shareholding structures.

The warehouse was dimly lit, with several wooden crates piled in the corner and a few old chairs surrounding a rough wooden table.

-

Sitting at that table were two people, one tall and one short.

When Walker came in, both of them stood up.

Walker waved his hand, gesturing for them to sit down.

He sat down in a chair next to the table, glanced at the two people, and began to speak in a low, slow voice.

"I've called you here today because I need your help with something."

"The New York Herald has a printing press on 42nd Street, which is newly rented and just started operating last month."

The two people didn't speak, they just looked at him.

"The security measures at that printing plant are probably not very adequate. After all, it's a newly rented place, and many things haven't been set up yet."

The tall man smiled and said, "Places like printing plants are indeed prone to accidents sometimes. Aging machines, electrical problems, or improper ink storage can all cause issues."

Walker nodded and said, "If anything goes wrong, I hope the work stoppage there will last a little longer."

The tall man immediately patted his chest and said, "That's easy."

Walker continued, "There's one more thing. The editor of the New York Herald, a young man named Arthur Kennedy, you should all know him."

The short man said, "I know. It's that guy who criticizes you in the newspapers every day."

Walker didn't respond to that, but continued, "He hasn't been walking safely lately. The streets of New York, especially at night, are prone to unexpected accidents."

The warehouse was silent for a few seconds.

Neither of the two spoke, waiting for Walker to continue.

"Let him know that what he's doing has consequences. No one should die. I just want to bring him to his senses."

The tall man was silent for a moment, then nodded and said, "I understand."

Walker stood up, took an envelope from his pocket, and placed it on the table.

The envelope was bulging, and the seal wasn't on properly, so you could see the corners of the stack of banknotes inside through the gaps.

"I wasn't here today."

The tall man nodded: "I understand. You didn't tell me anything. And I didn't tell you anything either."