Chapter 263: Gungnir
January 30th.
The New York office of [American Forward] was surrounded by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The flashing lights of police cars painted Times Square in dazzling color, turning America's top newspaper into the front-page news of every other newspaper.
Agent Neil, who had been following the case all along, took the elevator directly to Merson's office.
Merson was leaning back in his leather chair, smoking a cigarette as though everything outside had nothing to do with him.
Seeing the agent enter, he did not even turn his head. He simply took a sip of aged brandy and chuckled.
"What? Has the Prohibition Act not been repealed yet? Is it a crime for me to have a drink?"
"Drinking is not illegal, Mr. Merson."
Neil's expression was cold.
"But selling intelligence to a foreign country is treason."
Merson raised his hand calmly.
"Do not talk nonsense, Agent. I am qualified to pursue legal action against you."
His tone was leisurely.
"I have several lawyer friends who are very knowledgeable about the law, and several local judges with influence in court."
"Once you are locked up, Mr. Merson, you will find out whether or not this is serious."
Neil placed the search warrant in front of Merson and waved his hand.
"Take him away."
A group of agents immediately began searching every corner of the office.
But because Merson had received the information in advance, their search was destined to produce nothing.
Watching his office being turned upside down, Merson was not angry. Instead, he laughed.
"I will bet you ten thousand dollars, Agent, that in two months at the latest, I will be standing here again, walking out of the Federal Bureau of Investigation completely unscathed."
Seeing the arrogance of this treasonous criminal, Neil, who was certain that [American Forward] had ties to Germany, pressed down on Merson's wrist.
"Do you really think you will be fine?"
"I know your network is vast, Mr. Merson. I know you have a good relationship with Ford."
"But the person who ordered the sealing of [American Forward] this time is President Roosevelt."
"No matter how extensive your connections are, they cannot be greater than the President of the United States."
Merson smiled faintly.
He said nothing.
Instead, he casually raised his middle finger toward the overwhelming number of cameras outside.
At the same time, on the other side of the city, the presidential inauguration speech that had originally been scheduled for Washington had been rerouted to New York's Central Park.
Because two agreements that significantly affected trade had just been passed a few days earlier, there were quite a few onlookers.
Security could only be described as strict.
Every entrant had to be checked for weapons.
After Lauris noted the place where he had previously buried the weapon, he walked into the park wearing an expensive suit, a suit he had never worn in his life.
Compared with the other civilians in cheap suits and coats, Lauris clearly did not attract much attention from the patrolman.
After a quick inspection, he was waved through without even being asked to remove his coat.
Confirming that no one was watching him closely, Lauris quickly walked to a pine tree.
He removed his leather gloves, brushed away the snow on the ground, and dug a few times. Soon, a pale yellow piece of oil paper appeared beneath the snow.
He took two deep breaths of cold air.
Nervousness made warm sweat fill his palms.
He pulled out the oil paper package and immediately tucked the gleaming silver revolver into his coat pocket.
At that moment, a patrolman noticed that he had strayed from the crowd.
The patrolman was about to raise his gun.
But after seeing Lauris's expensive suit and coat, his suspicion turned into inquiry.
"Sir? Has something happened?"
Lauris shook his head.
"Nothing. The snow was too slippery, and I accidentally fell."
Then he asked naturally, "By the way, where is the President's speech taking place? Could you take me there?"
Seeing the scattered snow and the water stains on the man's sleeves and knees, the patrolman realized that he did not seem to be lying.
His tense nerves immediately relaxed.
"Follow me, sir. It is by the lake."
Following behind the patrolman, Lauris arrived at the speech venue.
The speech had not yet begun.
Looking around, he saw a thin layer of fine snow covering the podium, while the area below was already packed with onlookers.
The seats near the edge of the podium had nameplates placed on them. They were clearly reserved for reporters from major newspapers.
In addition, cameras had been set up on both sides of the podium.
They were obviously preparing to record this speech in the snow on film.
Since not everyone had the qualifications to approach the podium and take photographs, reporters from smaller newspapers were mixed among the public, desperately pushing toward the cordon in hopes of capturing first-hand photos and news of the President.
Ryan was one of them.
Carrying a Zeiss camera, he protected it with one hand while desperately pushing forward with the other.
Just as he finally squeezed into an empty spot closer to the front, a leather glove inexplicably resting on his left shoulder caught his attention.
Immediately after, he felt a burning gaze from behind.
Ryan turned his head.
In the crowd, he found the owner of the leather glove.
A successful-looking man in a custom suit.
Because a beard covered most of the man's face, Ryan could not tell his ethnicity.
But he certainly recognized the bills held between the man's fingers.
"Friend, would you consider giving up this spot?"
Looking at the fifty dollars in the man's hand, Ryan suppressed the urge to agree immediately and pretended to hesitate.
"Two hundred dollars, and the spot is yours."
Lauris handed over all the cash from his leather bag.
"Is this enough?"
"It is enough. Absolutely enough."
Ryan immediately gave up his position.
"Please, go ahead."
Compared with four hundred real dollars, a few poorly angled photographs were not worth mentioning.
Smiling as he filled the empty space, Lauris kept his left hand tucked inside his coat pocket, fiddling with the revolver cylinder.
After confirming that there was no sign of dampness, he looked up toward the front of the stage like the other onlookers.
Compared with the public, whose thoughts and demands varied widely, Lauris's goal was much simpler and much more direct.
He had come here to kill.
Behind the stage, inside the President's private car, Roosevelt was making his final preparations for the speech.
This was one of his habits before every speech.
He adjusted his tone, rehearsed his cadence, and made sure the public would feel as close to him as possible.
It was a speaking philosophy he had followed since the beginning of his campaign, and also his most powerful weapon.
"Is everything ready?"
His aide replied, "Everything is ready, Mr. President."
"All personnel have been screened. There should be no security issues."
"All reporters have arrived, and the cameras are set up. This speech will be broadcast live on several major television stations."
"There is one more thing, Mr. President. The Federal Bureau of Investigation has sent word that they have completed the seizure of [American Forward] and are awaiting your instructions for the next step."
Roosevelt smiled, took a sip of hot tea, and joked, "It looks like our Mr. Merson is going to replace me as tomorrow's New York headline."
.....
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