Hearing Karl's hint, Penguin gave a contemptuous chuckle and said casually,
"Thanks to you, that old bastard went off to Chicago! The rest of the mob doesn't have a leader anymore, so a small-time player like me suddenly became valuable."
"I'm already too old to be chasing after some throne. Thirty years ago, maybe I would've considered becoming the lord of Gotham. But now? Just like you, I'm only interested in money!"
At that moment, Karl and Oswald Cobblepot looked at each other and smiled.
Each saw exactly what he wanted to see in the other's eyes.
In truth, Karl understood that Penguin had made the right decision.
With Falcone no longer suppressing them, Gotham's various mob factions had become independent of one another.
Every one of them wanted the throne representing the supreme status of Gotham's Godfather.
They were all watching each other carefully, so the slightest opportunity could trigger an all-out war.
When that happened, blood would flow through the streets.
Penguin, however, had decisively chosen not to participate in the struggle.
That placed him in a uniquely advantageous position.
On one hand, nobody dared openly challenge the Iceberg Lounge.
On the other, everyone desperately wanted Penguin's support.
As long as he gave even the slightest nod of approval, it could provide an enormous advantage to whichever faction was fighting for the top position.
That meant the cunning Penguin could simply sit on the sidelines, stay out of the bloodshed, and make money from everyone involved.
Perhaps, as far as he was concerned, becoming the so-called "King of Gotham" was simply more trouble than it was worth.
Just then, another underworld figure arrived.
Contrary to Karl's expectations, the newcomer looked more like a refined young gentleman than a gangster.
He wore a perfectly tailored suit, without a gold chain or tattoo in sight.
He looked more like a university student attending a formal dance.
"Come, come. We're all in the same line of work."
Penguin took the young man's hand and solemnly introduced him to Karl.
"This is Lincoln March, a promising young man and one of the future pillars of Gotham City!"
Before Karl could say anything, Lincoln March stepped forward and greeted him politely.
"So this is the famous Karl."
"Commissioner Karl needs no introduction. I recognized you immediately. In person, you're even more impressive than the rumors suggest."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
After the brief introductions, Penguin led everyone toward the place where the negotiations would take place.
The setting had clearly been chosen with care.
Inside the elegant hall of the Iceberg Lounge, the tables were piled high with exquisite food.
A group of thick-skinned musicians played violins nearby.
Under Penguin's practiced guidance, the entire atmosphere quickly became friendly and relaxed.
"Last Thursday, one of my girls in the sex trade stabbed a judge, and then she expected me to bail her out!"
Lincoln finally began acting more like the gangster he was supposed to be.
Almost every sentence out of his mouth revolved around underworld business.
"What the hell was she thinking?"
Penguin raised an eyebrow.
"Which courthouse was this? Don't they search everyone before letting them inside? How did your girl manage to stab a judge after being searched?"
Lincoln gave him a sly smile.
"Oh, they searched her."
"But she still managed to get the knife inside."
"How is that possible? Unless..."
Penguin paused.
Then realization suddenly dawned on him.
"Oh! I get it!"
"Hahahahaha! Now that's a woman who really knows her trade!"
Penguin burst into loud laughter, his expression filled with amusement.
Karl, sitting beside them, looked completely baffled.
He couldn't understand what was supposed to be so funny about this particular American dirty joke.
So he leaned toward Penguin and quietly asked,
"How much does he want for the broadcasting company?"
"Can we get to the point already? My time is valuable."
"Relax, my friend."
Penguin answered him just as quietly.
"Gangsters might enjoy spraying people with machine-gun fire, but business is different."
"You need patience."
"The first person to lose his composure loses the negotiation."
"Damn it. You people really love wasting time."
Karl made no attempt to hide his irritation.
Seeing this, Lincoln picked up a bottle and walked over to Karl, gesturing as if he intended to pour him a drink.
Karl smiled and waved him off.
"Thanks, but I don't need any."
"What?"
Lincoln gave him a sly grin.
"Did the new prohibition ordinance suddenly turn you into a law-abiding citizen?"
"No."
Karl answered calmly.
"I simply prefer staying sober when I might need a clear head."
Penguin immediately chimed in.
"Staying clearheaded is one of Karl's secrets to success. That's why he always manages to end up on the right side of things."
"Hey, if I had that kind of judgment, I wouldn't have impulsively dumped ten million dollars into an NBA venture last year!"
"At least trying to bring a professional basketball team to Gotham isn't a bad thing."
Karl casually kept the conversation moving.
"Maybe someday Gotham really will have its own NBA team. If that happens, perhaps they'll put your name on the arena."
After several rounds of drinks, Penguin finally steered the conversation toward the subject everyone actually cared about.
"All right, gentlemen!"
His expression became serious.
"Given the circumstances, I think it's time for us to speak openly with each other."
"That'll be better for everyone."
At that moment, Lincoln's expression changed completely.
The humility and politeness from earlier vanished without a trace.
His voice turned cold.
"Gotham is a place where people appreciate straightforward dealings."
"I refuse to believe that a former member of Gotham's mob invited me here just so he could join forces with an outsider and take away the last valuable property I have left."
"That broadcasting company is the last business I still own that actually makes me money."
"If I hand it over to you, what am I supposed to use to feed my men?"
Karl finally understood why Lincoln had mentioned the NBA investment earlier.
His investment in basketball had clearly gone badly.
Now this broadcasting company was one of the few valuable assets he had left, so naturally he didn't want to surrender it.
"Like I said before, the best outcome is one where everyone benefits."
Penguin smiled without warmth.
"And naturally, that includes you, my boy."
"By the way, don't accuse me of inviting you here just so I can make money as the middleman."
"I'm not taking a single cent in brokerage fees."
"But that also means I'll remain completely neutral."
"I won't favor either side."
Karl glanced between the two men, shrugged, pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between his lips.
Then his expression suddenly hardened.
"In other words, if you want more money to keep playing basketball tycoon, there's only one sensible option."
"Sell the broadcasting company to me."
"Otherwise, a money-losing broadcasting company will simply continue eating away at what little wealth you have left."
(End of Chapter)
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