Hearing Karl's words, the young man shook his head and replied in English with an Italian accent.
"No, no, no! Karl, you're only talking about ordinary circumstances."
"But this is Gotham City. No matter what happens, as long as your program appears on television or the big screen, you have to pay the mob."
"That's a rule that's been passed down since the Roman's era!"
"In other words, I don't care who buys those businessmen's shares, and I don't care who runs the television station afterward."
"Whoever runs it has to pay me."
"Paying you isn't a problem. I'll write you a sizable check."
Karl spoke calmly.
"But in exchange, I want your rights and influence over the company removed completely."
"And by the way, Falcone is already gone. It's time to change the rules left behind by his era."
Anger flashed through Lincoln's eyes, and his voice turned cold.
"Even if the Roman has left Gotham City, the mob still exists."
"The rules left behind from the old days will continue."
"Anyone who underestimates us may end up paying for their arrogance."
"Sure, the mob is still the biggest force in Gotham's underworld."
Karl shrugged indifferently, completely ignoring the threat in Lincoln's words.
"But whoever takes over next will decide whether those old rules still mean anything."
"And I'm afraid you're not the man who gets to decide the rules."
Are you kidding me?
Karl thought to himself.
Even your Godfather was driven out by a mere local official like me. Why would I still care about the rules he left behind?
Seeing that the situation was heading in the wrong direction, Penguin hurriedly picked up a small silver knife from the dining table and tapped it against his wineglass.
"You are both men of standing."
"You both have enough political influence to affect the fate of entire districts."
"So don't sit here baring your teeth at each other like stray dogs on the side of the road."
"Or do you seriously think street-corner threats like that are going to make the other side obediently give in?"
That was true.
The tense atmosphere immediately eased, and neither Karl nor Lincoln continued arguing about the subject.
When Lincoln raised his glass to conceal his displeasure, Karl gave an apologetic smile and stood up.
"Excuse me. I need to use the restroom."
With that, he immediately left the hall and headed for the restroom.
After making sure nobody had followed him or could interrupt, Karl pulled out his phone and made a call.
"Ed! I need you to get me a file on Lincoln March."
"He's probably connected to Gotham's mob. Pay particular attention to his recent financial situation."
The mysterious man on the other end of the phone chuckled confidently.
"Why waste a whole minute on something that small? Five seconds is enough."
"Oh, right. This guy has invested heavily in sports—"
"I already know about that."
Karl interrupted him.
"He lost ten million dollars on an NBA investment."
The Riddler went silent for a moment before replying smugly,
"Hey, that isn't even the least profitable investment he's made in his life."
"Two years ago, he poured a huge amount of money into a Gotham football club."
"The team never improved, and it burns through tens of millions of dollars every year."
"There's no way he can keep supporting it forever."
After hearing that, followed by a lengthy rundown from the Riddler, Karl more or less knew what he needed to do next.
When he returned to the table, Penguin immediately spoke enthusiastically.
"All right, gentlemen! Let's start over from the beginning."
"We're all here to do serious business, so there's no point wasting each other's time."
"Mr. March was just telling me that he's interested in the liquor business in Arkham..."
Lincoln March picked up where Penguin left off.
"You want to trade for my shares in the broadcasting company? Fine."
"But there's no point in handing you my golden goose unless I get something profitable in return."
"Otherwise, we can forget about this deal."
"Dragging this out any further would only damage the friendship between Mr. Karl and me."
Karl remained silent for a moment, flicking the lighter in his hand as he continued calculating everything in his head.
Simply put, the most profitable business at present was the fur trade led by the Moon Rabbit Fur Company.
In the future, banking might become the best business of all.
Meanwhile, aside from the increasingly unpopular pirated adult-video trade, the liquor business was becoming one of the least profitable operations.
"Tell me what you want."
Karl remained seated.
"To be honest, I have access to plenty of bootleg liquor, but finding a market for it is difficult."
Lincoln spoke frankly.
"I want you to help me establish distribution."
"I have access to some of the best liquor available."
"A mayor's son in Sicily is getting married soon. More than five hundred guests will be attending, and my liquor was specifically selected for the reception."
"I'm sure the people of Gotham City will like it too."
Karl thought for a moment before answering.
"How about this?"
"I can arrange for the bars in Arkham to purchase and sell two thousand cases of your liquor every month."
"Of course, that's only the beginning. Your share can increase later."
"But you can't simply walk into Arkham and start selling however you please."
"That's my territory."
Hearing this, Lincoln stood up with a smile.
"All right, gentlemen. Looks like it's my turn to visit the restroom."
"Take your time."
He turned and walked away from the table.
There was no need to guess what he was doing.
He was obviously going somewhere private to calculate the value of Karl's offer.
Watching him leave, Karl frowned and spoke disdainfully to Penguin.
"Young people these days. They really don't know how to communicate. Talking to them is exhausting."
Penguin looked at Karl, who was every bit as young as Lincoln, and couldn't even be bothered to point out the irony.
Instead, he quietly said,
"Young people can be impatient. That's understandable. That kind of restlessness is part of their energy."
"But your offer is too low."
"I don't think he'll agree."
Sure enough, several minutes later, Lincoln returned to his seat with a serious expression.
"That offer isn't sincere enough, Mr. Karl."
"Your territory moves nearly fifteen thousand cases of liquor every month, and you're only giving me two thousand."
"That's hardly a fair deal."
Faced with the impatient Lincoln, Karl calmly wiped his mouth.
"Two thousand cases may be a little low, but that's only the initial amount."
"As our friendship develops, that number can gradually increase."
"Take it slowly."
"And I haven't finished my proposal yet."
Karl's expression remained calm.
"I know you have another troublesome business under you that's been losing money constantly."
"A football club, right?"
"Don't worry."
"I'll give you the money and take the entire club off your hands."
"Then you'll never have to worry about those star-player transfer fees again."
Lincoln froze.
He clearly hadn't expected Karl to know about that.
(End of Chapter)
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