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Chapter 650 - Chapter 650: Death for Wealth

[Chapter 743: Death for Wealth]

There had been a statistic circulating in Hollywood that suggested around ninety-five percent of people in the industry, whether directly or indirectly, had been entangled in relationships.

My goodness, I didn't know who constructed Hollywood, but the hero who saved it must have been the one who invented the little raincoat.

Don't be surprised; that place was just that disgusting. If you really wanted to keep your hands clean, it was best not to mix in Hollywood at all.

"Billy, what are you saying? Those guys don't do drugs?"

"Yeah, sir, we tested the waters a few times. They generally preferred a little violence."

"Damn, how did those Russians operate? By the way, what ever happened to that guy from before?"

"Who knows? After he went to London, he never came back."

A bunch of clueless CIA folks simply didn't know that compared to them, William White still had some boundaries.

As the largest consumer of drugs in the world, America really was a strange bird. If they truly legalized that stuff, it actually wouldn't be half as awful.

...

In the six months since Bill took office, he hadn't had a single moment of peace. He planned to interfere in every matter occurring in the world. Strangely, regarding the current chaos in America, Bill seemed to be willfully blind.

"Andrei, what did you say? Those guys are CIA."

"Yeah, Tanner, it couldn't be more certain."

"Damn, these guys dared to earn money from anything."

"Right, that past punk controlled those girls through these schemes. We've confirmed it, no mistakes."

Andrei was frustrated; some of those poor girls were from his hometown. If it was voluntary, he wouldn't have cared so much.

"Stop overthinking it, Andrei. Just arrange a little accident for that guy. Honestly, the worst troublemakers were still those CIA bastards."

"We are letting him off easy; he should be feeding bears."

"Ha, Max might have lions, but it seems like bears prefer cold weather."

...

William White wasn't surprised by the news Tanner brought. A significant portion of America's drug market was operated by these guys; it certainly wasn't a secret among the higher-ups.

What? They often saw America in action. Ahem, if there were too many sellers, where else would they make their money?

Take a look at later developments in Mexico; it was essentially a tragedy.

Well, the fallout from that was something Americans had to bear in the end.

Only an idiot like Trump could come up with such a laughable idea as building walls. If America didn't consume, those armed with laundry detergent would collapse immediately.

It had been said long ago: no trade, no harm. Mexico had successfully replaced Colombia and Afghanistan -- wasn't that the CIA behind the scenes?

"Tanner, these idiots have gone crazy. To avoid arousing suspicion, they needed to balance the books."

"Master, in that case, there's only weaponry."

"Heh, that's how it is. Gun control in America had already escalated; adding a few more wouldn't change much. By the way, Tanner, if any outfit got too out of hand, you could consider robbing them."

"Sure thing, that task should be a bit simpler. Master, Vincent Foster is dead. The official report claimed it was a suicide."

The CIA in America was one of the most lawless groups out there. Some things had simply become tradition; it wouldn't make a difference who was in charge.

Staying in Washington was a bunch of fools who couldn't manage anything. In reality, they simply issued orders; how the subordinates executed them was entirely loose.

"Tanner, I never heard that name before. What was he, part of an outfit?"

"No, Master, he's an old buddy of our president and is now the chief legal consultant in Washington. That position practically made him family."

"The chief legal consultant in Washington would commit suicide? Heh, Tanner, what sort of complicated method did he use?"

"Details are unclear; it's heavily classified. Master, this guy just returned from Switzerland, and we cross-checked with European records -- he met with Leo Wanta."

"Oh boy, that complicates things. It seems Washington agreed to spare him, but some people were far from pleased. Tanner, this matter is becoming a headache. What about Leo Wanta?"

"He's still in Europe; barring any surprises, the CIA is sure to bring him back."

Those idiots really couldn't see how things had spiraled out of control. There was no way they could still get that money. Tsk, tsk, that guy in Washington must have been scared out of his mind.

"Yeah, that seems likely. I don't know what promises he made to them for daring to take the fall for this." Tanner could only shake his head at the fool from Arkansas. In less than a year, just look at how many people he had angered. Did he enjoy living dangerously? It appeared that there weren't enough lunatics left in America.

William White didn't comment on Tanner's inquiry. Although it was via satellite phone, it was still wise to be cautious. Plus, it wasn't his affair, so why put himself at risk?

He certainly knew what promises were made. The obvious matters were easy to handle; you just had to go through the motions. Eventually, you had to yield something. As for the rest, the charity donations totaled $250 million.

One had to admit, if things came to this, America's history might very well change forever.

Trillions of dollars? Ha, that could easily allow one to beat the stuffing out of that big doofus Saddam ten times over. With such a sum, how many heads could one bear the weight of?

He, William White, certainly didn't dare. Besides, even if that money was handed to you, you wouldn't know how to spend it.

Goodness, were you going to buy a country in Africa?

Well, if you didn't want a death more miserable than a pig's, playing a real-time strategy game might suffice.

...

"Dad, these guys are totally outrageous!"

"Remember President Jackson? He defeated armed thugs with his cane. Son, always keep in mind; the job of the American president is highly dangerous. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"I've thought it through, and I'm sure I'll succeed."

"Good, as for that Leo Wanta, who besides those greenhorns would want to get involved in such trouble? Heh, you think those old-timers in the Federal Reserve wouldn't see through it? They were all old foxes; oh, and that little fox as well."

"What, William White is also in the know?"

Bush Sr. looked at his dimwit son, who seemed to think it was easy to get that group all riled up.

"He must have sensed something. Look at how they operate; it's like they didn't know."

"Is it because he has too much money?" Bush Jr. mumbled, feeling disgruntled.

"You hit the nail on the head; having too much money actually rendered it useless. I'm quite curious, honestly, how much money tied up in this case made so many people wary."

When the Leo Wanta plan was set in motion, Bush Sr. had been in Washington. It wouldn't be fair to say he was fully aware, but he had a solid grasp of the general outline.

However, no one had anticipated the sudden downfall of that Russian.

Well, that guy named Leo Wanta was indeed a genius. He simply picked the wrong profession; if he had stuck to being a broker or worked solely in finance, even Soros might not have been an equal.

The big shots who had been concerned for Leo Wanta had fallen into a deep despair. Just moments ago, those bastards informed him that Vincent Foster was dead, and he had died on the very day of his daughter's birthday.

*****

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