Chapter 1121: Dividend and Surveillance

"...We have finalized the orders for the reconstruction work with Slad. These orders can be executed shortly."

"The Committee has provided a rough cost estimate."

Inside the room, Senator Cleveland sat on the sofa in a completely relaxed posture, his hands resting naturally on the armrests. He looked neither aggressive nor formal, and his face was wreathed in smiles.

"A super order of approximately $45 billion. We can handle about twenty percent of that, which is $9 billion in orders."

"The profit margin is twenty-five percent. After deducting additional public relations costs, the final profit will be between eighteen and nineteen hundred million dollars, possibly a little more."

The gentlemen in the room were visibly excited. What was the purpose of pushing the Federation into the war, pushing the Federation to bet on Slad, and sending more Federal youth to die on foreign battlefields?

World peace?

Stable order?

International relations?

No. Ultimately, it was all about profit.

This was a super business. International war and international politics were all part of this super business.

The cost of reconstructing multiple cities in Slad was just the beginning. Next would come the reconstruction of Dantra, the costs of stationing troops in Dantra, and a series of subsequent expenses and profits.

The total reconstruction cost might exceed a hundred billion dollars. The two nations, including their allies, could certainly not afford this bill. The only option was an alternative method.

A portion of the cost would be handled via loans. The Federal government would lend the money to the two governments, but the money would remain untouched in Federal accounts.

The logic was simple: the money was borrowed to pay the Federal bill, so it remained in Federal hands. However, the debtor nations would be saddled with the loan and its interest.

Since they couldn't repay the money quickly, the Federal government signed a series of unequal treaties with them. These treaties were designed to look innocuous, ensuring the citizens of those two nations accepted the outcome.

Federal goods would enter these countries, and potentially the entire continent, at "zero tariff" or "extremely low tariff" rates.

The resulting economic development in the Federation would continue to ferment over the next ten to twenty years.

A picture of a prosperous future was finally unveiled to everyone through the mechanism of war.

As the largest political group in Congress, Senator Cleveland's faction also secured their share of the spoils.

An initial massive order with approximately $2 billion in profit. This order would be broken down into many smaller contracts, and everyone in the political group would receive their cut.

Perhaps this was the reason and motivation for their relentless activism. Who could refuse such benefits?

Everyone was smiling. Perhaps this was the essence of the upper class.

As for how the money would be divided, it would naturally be distributed according to each person's importance.

Lance stood near the window, holding a glass of sparkling wine. He looked through the blinds at the street scene, his gaze fixed on a few people across the road who were waiting for a bus.

The Federal public transit system was rapidly developing. The swift economic growth required capitalists to move workers more quickly from all corners of the city to their factory workstations.

Previously, public or private transportation was limited to main thoroughfares, but now, more areas were gaining bus routes, and more buses were appearing.

They were bigger, faster, and more robust.

A new bus stop was across the road, but two or three of the people standing there had watched several buses pass by without leaving. They stood there, seemingly waiting for something else entirely.

"Lance."

Senator Cleveland's voice from behind drew Lance's attention away from the "non-waiting waiters." He turned, glass in hand, to face the Senator. "Senator?"

Senator Cleveland smiled. "You have some work to do here, too. Our negotiations with the Slad people included clauses guaranteeing the legitimate rights and interests of Federal enterprises and workers. I'm giving you a new assignment that I hope you will like."

"It could bring you about $100 million in profit over the next five to ten years."

The men around them looked at Lance with envy. However, some only offered polite smiles. A profit of $100 million over five to ten years was an extraordinary sum to the average person.

But for Lance, and for those who knew him, the annual profit he funneled to Congress was already around $100 million.

In other words, the money he earned annually was comparable to, if not slightly more than, this new profit stream.

Thus, this business, which yielded tens of millions annually, was merely a small endeavor for Lance.

However, it offered Lance an opportunity to increase his legal income, tax contributions, and social influence.

Criminal enterprises alone could not provide these things, but this business could.

Why could corporations hold the Federal government, and even society, hostage?

Especially the super-corporations. They had enormous workforces. When a corporation faced trouble, the shareholders, the board, the true owners, were not the first to panic; the employees were.

If a company collapsed or went bankrupt, a massive number of workers would lose their jobs and flood the labor market.

Young people had a higher tolerance for risk, but what about the older workers?

At forty or fifty, they lacked competitiveness, and yet this was precisely when families most needed stable income. Coupled with Federal pension plans, these people would face far greater losses than shareholders or the board.

They were the ones who would rebel first!

Strikes and demonstrations, forcing the government to resolve the situation unfairly, had occurred many times during the economic slump of the previous years.

Senator Cleveland still valued Lance's role and usefulness. He was providing Lance with additional "body armor."

Lance raised his glass. "I am happy to do my part for the Federation."

He accepted the job.

Tom had already informed him of the assignment before he entered the room: he would set up a security company and hire retired Federal soldiers.

With the war over, the Federation no longer needed to maintain such a large military force, which worried other nations.

A standing military of several million active troops made every country uneasy, so demobilization was necessary.

However, demobilization wasn't easy. A huge number of professionally trained young soldiers entering the civilian workforce could trigger numerous problems. The Federal government, Congress, and the Ministry of Defense agreed that arranging employment for these men was vital.

It was a step, a ladder, for their transition back to civilian life.

Other companies, not just Lance's, would also be forced to accept many of these retired soldiers. In a way, this was also a social welfare benefit.

Senator Cleveland nodded, then shifted the conversation. Lance turned back to the window, looking at the people still waiting at the bus stop and the cafe across the road.

They occasionally looked up. Some had been standing there for one or two hours.

Someone was watching the building.

He wasn't sure if they were watching him or someone else.

Lance knew he was being watched, especially lately; the feeling was obvious, whether by the FBI or someone else.

He had also heard that the Perez family planned to attack him.

He couldn't allow these people to act with such impunity, even if they were from a Federal agency.

Lance set down his glass and left the room through a side door. He coughed once in the corridor.

The numerous assistants and aides standing or sitting in the hallway immediately stood up and looked toward the door.

They were the servants of the gentlemen in the room. They weren't permitted inside and had to wait outside.

Seeing Lance, many smiled and nodded in greeting, then returned to their seats or tasks. Alan quickly walked toward Lance.

Lance led him to a corner. "There are a few people across the road watching this building. I need you to subdue them and put them in our car."

Alan's expression turned serious. He had no feelings for Lance other than admiration!

Even his wildest dreams weren't as surreal as his current reality: attending this kind of social event!

Although he wasn't allowed into the main room, just being in the hallway was an accomplishment 98% of the Federal population couldn't claim!

Who else could possibly stand here so easily?

The people in the hall had engaged in brief conversations with him. When they learned Alan was Lance's attendant, they all smiled warmly.

They didn't look down on him or keep their distance just because he lacked a specific "social label." Instead, they handed him numerous business cards.

The concept of "connections" appeared before him in a concrete form for the first time.

To reach this status as a gang leader, Lance must have sacrificed a tremendous amount. Alan knew Lance was one of a kind!

He had to execute Lance's instructions with 100% perfection.

"Don't be nervous. Subdue them and put them in our car. We'll deal with them after the meeting ends."

"Don't cause too much disturbance. They might have accomplices. Watch carefully. Go now."

Alan nodded and quickly left the hall. The others showed no curiosity or inquiry when he left. Perhaps "Mr. Lance" had an important matter?

Alan walked out of the building. The few Lance family members gathered outside immediately dropped their cigarettes and rushed over when they saw him.

"Boss gave me a task. There are a few people watching across the road. Subdue them and put them in our car."

"Be quiet. Don't cause a scene."

"Also, call the company and get a few more men, just in case."

Alan chose a good vantage point to observe the situation across the road. He quickly spotted the people Lance mentioned.

Two buses had passed, yet they hadn't boarded. The man in the cafe wasn't drinking coffee, and hadn't flipped the page of the newspaper he held for over ten minutes.

There were also three suspicious cars parked along the curb. The drivers sat inside, constantly looking at the building, not leaving or getting out.

The rest of the team arrived quickly. Once they had sufficient manpower, Alan directed them.

They approached the bus stop disguised as passengers, targeting one of the watchers. After the next bus left, they surrounded the man.

The moment the man sensed something was wrong, a gun was pressed against his hip.

The same happened to the man in the cafe. Two men approached him, showed him a handgun, and he reluctantly stood up and followed them.

In a short time, everyone Lance suspected of being a lookout was captured.

The cars parked along the curb were also neutralized. Pedestrians walked up to the drivers, showed them a dark muzzle, and the drivers chose silence.

They were searched, quickly bundled into the waiting cars, and the cars made a U-turn and parked on the street outside the building.

Lance, watching everything from the window upstairs, saw his men cleanly and efficiently subdue the watchers. A slight smile crossed his face.

This "dividend meeting"—Lance saw this gathering as a distribution of political spoils—was crucial. Everyone had invested so much time and effort; now it was time to profit.

A group that doesn't distribute "dividends" or "bonuses" is unhealthy. Super-corporations emphasized dividends and even held grand events to publicize them.

If people didn't see the naked self-interest involved, how could they attract more members?

Similarly, for this political group, without Lance and the other financiers' constant transfer of profits, how could they be the most powerful political group in Congress?

The meeting ended. Lance walked over to Senator Cleveland. The Senator looked surprised and curious. Others respectfully gave them space.

"What's wrong?"

Senator Cleveland lit a cigarette. He was smoking heavily now, over a pack a day. He had too many things to think about.

The crowd had dispersed. Lance whispered, "Someone has been watching this place. I had my men detain them."

Senator Cleveland froze, then frowned. "Watching?"

"Watching me, or someone else?"

Lance answered honestly. "I haven't interrogated them yet. They were certainly watching me, but there were several of them. I'm not sure if they were all watching me."

Senator Cleveland's eyes grew unfocused, losing their sharpness for a moment. You could see he was looking at you, but you knew he wasn't seeing you.

After a moment, he smiled faintly. "Then interrogate them. Make them talk. Find out who they work for."

"Call me later when you have news. I'm free tonight."

He patted Lance's arm. Although he didn't say much, his actions showed his commitment to Lance and this matter.

Lance walked to where his car was parked. Most of the guests had left. Alan, who had been sitting impatiently on the sofa, immediately stood up when he saw Lance. "The men have been captured."

Lance nodded slightly. "I saw."

"We need to deal with this now."

They quickly got into the car, along with the captured watchers, and drove toward Lance's estate.

Twenty minutes later, in a secluded basement at the estate, Lance began interrogating the men.

He knew some were from the FBI and some might have been watching others.

Lance didn't want to remain passive against the FBI. This might be a good opportunity.

The first man brought in looked to be in his thirties. His personal items were laid out before Lance.

The man had brought a weapon. Lance picked up the pistol. "A revolver. They say this weapon can't kill people. Is that true?"

The men in the basement chuckled. The revolver was standard issue for Federal law enforcement.

They used to believe the weapon was chosen because it was "humane."

But now they were more worldly. They had learned to think for themselves. Perhaps the gun wasn't chosen because it was safe, but because the manufacturer offered the largest kickback.

The revolver confirmed he was a law enforcement officer.

Lance put the gun down and smiled. "Who do you work for?"

"If we cooperate, and you tell me what I ask, I believe we can make this easy."

"But if you think your badge can protect you, you can try that too."

The man in the room trembled. Not everyone had the psychological fortitude of a true gangster.

Seeing a young man next to Lance pull out a folding knife, the sharp blade reflecting a faint blue light in the dim basement, the watcher lost his nerve...

Later that evening, Lance called Senator Cleveland.

"Do you have results already?" Senator Cleveland's tone was neutral.

Lance hummed. "Some of it was expected, and some was unexpected."

"There were police officers, FBI agents, and some people working for other... influential figures."

Hearing the complex web of connections, Senator Cleveland couldn't help but laugh. "It seems we are highly sought after!"