Mr. Fox was well known on the streets and was one of those "able" men who were willing to help the poor and lend them money to tide them over.
Of course, he is not a purely good man, and he needs the poor to show him some kindness in return, some payment that might be more than the principal.
But all in all he's a good man, probably, maybe, probably.
In a basement office, Lynch met Mr. Fox, a gentleman who appeared to be thirty-six, seventy-eight, eighty-nine, early to mid-forties.
He was wearing this year's most popular dark gray suit with red and blue dots, and this red and blue silk scarf tied around his lapel, a little less formal but elegant.
Before Lynch had arrived here, Mr. Fox had heard from his men about the boy's anomalies, such as the words he had said earlier, which made him a bit curious.
"You're not afraid of me?" He had his men push Lynch into a chair across from the desk, "There are very few people on this street who aren't afraid of me.
Lynch showed no fear, such a scene could only be described as trivial, he shrugged and asked rhetorically, "Mr. Fox, are you going to hurt me? ,''
The question froze Mr. Fox for a moment, he thought hard and then shook his head, "I don't usually take it upon myself to hurt anyone, but if you do something unkind first.
It's a stupid thing for anyone to hurt someone for no reason, it makes you look bad in the first place, and secondly, you can be targeted by the Bureau of Investigation for such an aimless move.
The vast majority of people are looking for money, they're not looking for things, and neither is Mr. Fox.
"That's right, so why should I be afraid?" The subdued and smiling look on Lynch's face made Mr. Fox wonder for a moment.
He glanced at the aide beside him, then his eyes were back on Lynch's face, "But my people say you've been watching me the last few days, maybe you can tell me why that is, you're with the Bureau of Investigation?
They had searched Lynch before they came, and there was not a single thing that could prove his identity, and with all the lines he wore, which did not fit the style of the Bureau gang at all, Fox didn't think he was an agent of the Bureau.
That's what he was curious about, this kid had been eyeing his property, the laundromat, for a while now, and he had inquired about this kid's identity, out of curiosity as well as vigilance.
He wondered what Lynch was doing.
He picked up the book in Lynch's pocket and flipped through the pages, all of which were unreadable, and he asked the college-educated assistant next to him, who also didn't know what the words stood for.
The smile on Lynch's face was so warm that it made Fox feel... a little less comfortable, like he didn't know how to describe it, like he was being cared for.
"It's like this, Mr. Fox, I've noticed the laundry business and your little obsession with it, and I'm sure you've looked into me and know the problems I'm facing right now.
Mr. Fox nodded emphatically, "Poverty!
Lynch pointed to the ceiling, caught Mr. Fox's attention with a small gesture and took back the conversation, "You're right, that's why I need to get out of my financial crisis as soon as possible, and I'd like to do a little business with you.
Suddenly the whole office was laughing, Mr. Fox, his assistant, and two large men who looked like they were not to be messed with.
Lynch didn't look at Mr. Fox uncomfortably and waited almost thirty seconds for them to stop laughing before he asked, "This isn't a joke.
Mr. Fox laughed again, and as he did, he asked, "But I don't think there's really any business between us ..." He said as his laughter naturally stopped, then frowned, "You want to borrow money?
Lynch shook his head, "No, business, Mr. Fox!
Mr. Fox had laughed and laughed enough, and the curiosity and inquisitiveness of the human bone made him keep the conversation going, at least until he knew the answer or lost interest in the interesting conversation.
"So, what kind of business do you want with me?
Lynch's usual confident and sunny smile was easy on the eyes, "I can provide more change, nickels, dimes, quarters and fifties, all in coins, old and new.
Mr. Fox's face changed violently, and there was a hint of something haunting in his slightly narrowed eyes; if he had to decipher what that look was, it would be murderous intent.
"You know what I'm doing?" He couldn't resist pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "You've got a lot of nerve!"
Lynch was not the least bit impressed, "I'm not afraid of being poor, would I be afraid of anything else?
The two men stared at each other for a moment, and it seemed that the fellow named Lynch was indeed a bold man, while his words began to interest Mr. Fox a bit.
Some industries can be a bit of a gray area, for example, the finance company he was currently running wasn't exactly legal, and not only was the Bureau of Investigation watching him, but so was the federal IRS.
He needs a channel through which he can tax the money in his hand reasonably and legally without attracting too much attention, and a laundromat is a good channel.
Nobody cares where every coin comes from, and they can't figure out where those coins come from, and all the laundromats in the entire Baylor Federation are basically controlled by these people.
But they have the same problem of being too slow!
The middle class and the upper class had their own washing machines, they didn't have to take their clothes to the street to be washed, only the poor did that.
But poor people tend to accumulate a week's worth of clothes before they come to wash them once, and they have to wash them all at once.
That's why people like Mr. Fox have come up with a new rate by the pound, but it's still a drop in the bucket.
You can't force everyone to come in and do their laundry every day, that would just attract the attention of the Bureau of Investigation and the IRS, which is Mr. Fox's biggest pain in the ass.
It's a terrible feeling to have a safe full of money and not be able to take it out and spend it!
Now that the bastard in front of him said he could fix it, Mr. Fox was immediately interested: "What are you going to do about it?
Lynch did not have the slightest concealment to say his method, he could not hide it, no matter his current status position, he could not stop Mr. Fox from exploring the offer once he did, then it would be better to say it directly to show his sincerity.
"I will collect a large number of coins to resell to you for a portion of the fee, and my income is the difference."
Mr. Fox glanced back at his assistant, who muttered in his ear for a moment before frowning and asking, "How much do you want?"
Lynch's warm smile gave Mr. Fox that inexplicable illusion of being cared for again, "Ten percent!
Are you crazy?" Mr. Fox couldn't help but shout.
"I'd rather wait slowly!"
Ten percent was completely unacceptable to him, and if the deal was for a dollar, it was only ten percent.
But when the deal is for a hundred thousand dollars, a million dollars, that's a number that can cause heartache.
Rather than negotiate with him immediately, Lynch asked a new question, "Mr. Fox, do you have the transactions here?"
The Exchange is one of the most widely circulated newspapers in the Federal Republic of Germany, covering the seventeen states of the Federal Republic of Germany, as well as all regions, and focusing on national and international financial and economic trends, as well as local financial and economic changes.
Gradually losing the initiative in a series of "confrontations," Mr. Fox glanced at his assistant, who nodded, indicating that this was it.
Even though her business was not that appropriate, her work had a lot to do with finance.
"Give me a copy as soon as possible, and a copy of the latest, and I'll show you who's the real winner in our deal!"
Lynch's firm, strong voice and confident expression made Mr. Fox begin to vaguely believe, as he once did when Lynch stood in front of a large group of people with a microphone and gave a speech.
People look at him, believe he's telling the truth, and end up stuffing money into his pockets and thanking him!