Chapter 896: I’m Not Interested in Finance

“Mr. Lynch, here’s what you asked for.”

After returning to Eminence, Lynch didn’t immediately meet with the senator. Instead, he went to the headquarters of Golden Exchange Bank—he had something to convert.

More precisely, a stack of checks.

Few people would describe checks in terms like a stack. It almost sounded like an insult to this financial instrument—but Lynch did it.

Dozens of checks piled together was already a striking sight. And with each check made out for a million, it was simply staggering.

Behind the counter, the bank employees wore expressions of awe. In front of them lay tens of millions in cash.

Bankers know well what tens of millions in cash mean—

From the moment Lynch stepped in to the moment he left, he was daddy to everyone. Whatever he asked for had to be done—even if it meant stripping down and barking like a dog.

Fortunately, Mr. Lynch had no such crude tastes. He simply sat quietly, waiting as the funds were transferred into a designated account.

The account belonged to a newly registered shell company, created using the most common method in the Federal gray market: an offshore client registering through a domestic proxy.

Eminence had many firms specializing in this. They’d handle all the legal paperwork for foreign clients, then register the company using a ghost identity as the founder.

The company would then be sold to the foreign client at a marked-up price—the sale price effectively being the registration fee.

In federal company registration, there’s a special term: founder.

Federal law requires a company founder to be a natural person and a federal citizen, capable of bearing legal responsibility.

Faking an identity to register a company isn’t easy. There are many ways to verify someone’s identity—for example, their social security number.

It’s easy to tell what’s real and what’s fake, especially in sensitive industries.

So, even to register a proper tax-paying shell company, a legitimate person must be used.

Take Dyson Asset Management, for example. Lynch had used a homeless man to register it.

He gave the man a small payment upfront and a cut of the monthly earnings, which absolved Lynch of all legal responsibility.

If anything went wrong in the future, the homeless man—as the founder and shareholder—would bear the consequences.

Even if he died, all responsibility would fall on the deceased—who was, in fact, already dead!

That’s the whole point of having a registered individual who meets federal standards: someone to pin it all on. No matter what kind of life they live, as long as they’re a person and a citizen, they qualify.

This is the value of a ghost identity. They’re legal federal citizens but virtually invisible—no one can trace them unless they’re personally connected.

Many of these ghosts made a living this way. For each company they helped register, they earned a decent fee—enough to enjoy life for a while.

This unique setup gave the gray market great convenience, helping solve many problems—tax evasion, money laundering, and so on.

Not because federal finance is full of loopholes, but because in any evolving legal system, some cracks are inevitable. It’s just growing pains.

This new company had nothing to do with Lynch on paper, yet he fully controlled it in practice.

He watched as the checks were cataloged and bound together. They’d be preserved for a long time to prove the legitimacy and process of the fund transfers.

Soon, with the help of four staff members, all the funds were deposited into Lynch’s specified account. He stood up, shook hands with the bank manager, and left.

The company itself was highly valuable—not because of what it did, but because its shareholders were all prominent figures and wealthy elites. With that kind of backing, even if the company claimed to make artificial meat from human waste, people would believe it.

The public both envied and hated the rich, yet also believed in them.

That evening, he met with the senator.

“Mr. Lynch, I’ve been wanting to meet you, but your schedule has been too packed—I could never find the chance.” The senator was nothing like the difficult man Senator Landon had described.

Maybe it was the money. Lynch returned his handshake with a bit of strength. “It really has been busy. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all, I just got here,” the senator replied, leading Lynch to a private area of the restaurant.

Typical federal restaurants don’t have private rooms. Whether you’re a foreign diplomat or a mechanic fresh off work, everyone dines in the main hall.

There’s an unverified belief that when politicians meet privately, corruption is inevitable. So they dine publicly to appear transparent.

The federal public loves and believes in these kinds of strange conspiracy theories.

But the restaurant the senator chose was run by foreign chefs, styled differently. There was no main hall—just a series of uniquely themed private rooms.

Each room offered its own exotic atmosphere, giving guests a sense of being somewhere entirely new.

After being seated in one such room, the staff quickly brought out the dinner.

Lynch noticed the female waitstaff were dressed unusually—not in the federal style. Their uniforms were luxurious and elegant, but with an added touch of allure.

Neither man paid much attention to that. Once the staff left and the door closed, they began their real conversation.

“I’ve been busy with official duties lately. Besides the military appropriations committee, I also serve on a few others,” the senator explained, offering a reasonable excuse for his earlier lack of response.

Lynch nodded. “I understand. I know Senator Landon—he’s incredibly busy. I imagine your schedule’s the same, maybe even worse.”

The senator smiled and nodded. “As soon as I wrapped up my other work, I began reviewing the Defense Department’s proposed budget.”

“There are two technical issues I’m unclear on. I was hoping you could explain them before dinner.”

As he spoke, the senator fixed his eyes on Lynch, uncertain if Lynch would grasp his deeper meaning.

He was overthinking it. Lynch had seen plenty of people who wanted money, prestige, and moral high ground all at once—some even more blatant than this senator.

“Go ahead,” Lynch’s expression turned serious, as if he were genuinely ready to answer some important questions.

The senator adopted a similarly grave tone. “First question: from the report, it seems the aircraft can be equipped with various modules. Is that correct?”

Lynch nodded. “Yes, including but not limited to what’s already listed. We’ll be adding more in the future.”

The senator nodded. “Do you have any preferences when selecting workers?”

“I prefer to hire federal citizens…”

“That’s all I needed. Your answers align with what I wanted to hear. I have no reason to hold up your budget.” The senator relaxed slightly, as if a monumental mystery had just been solved.

Anyone walking in at that moment might have thought they’d just confirmed the theory of relativity.

“So I passed?”

The senator nodded solemnly. “You did.”

“We should toast, then.” Lynch raised his glass, and the senator followed. Everything was perfectly legal. Even if someone had planted a listening device, they wouldn’t find any faults.

To the senator, this was a demonstration of his own importance—without him, the budget wouldn’t pass.

It was also a show of his value—if he wanted, any budget could go through him without issue.

The senator had extended a gesture of goodwill. Lynch responded in kind.

They would be dealing with each other often in the future—air defense projects also needed the senator’s approval.

Lynch remarked casually, “A lot has been happening in the Federation lately…”

The senator, though unsure what Lynch meant exactly, nodded as if he shared the sentiment. “It really has.”

“I heard EveryMoment might rebound soon…”

The senator paused. Living in Eminence, there was no way he hadn’t heard about what had happened with EveryMoment lately.

Its market cap had dropped by 70%. Some said it was about to be delisted. Others believed it might bounce back.

But the outlook wasn’t optimistic. None of the big investors had made a move yet. Even if it survived this death spiral, making a comeback would be extremely difficult.

Almost impossible.

And now Lynch was saying it might rise again…

A spark of interest appeared on the senator’s face. A potential return of at least twofold—this was different from just being handed money.

This time, the more you invested, the more you could earn—not just take whatever someone gave you.

“Is that so?” He smiled calmly. “Shame I’m not really into finance. I’m a cautious man—not fond of that kind of thing…”