Chapter 182: Black October - IV

“What could be so important as to interrupt my meeting?”

The president of the Baylor Federation stood in the lounge, visibly displeased. His chief of staff had just cut off his discussion with several international affairs experts, making him feel impolite. His tone naturally was far from pleasant.

The chief of staff sighed bitterly. “Mr. President, the bond issue has been exposed. How should we proceed?”

The president, who had been impatient moments before, immediately grew tense upon hearing the news.

Before the end of the world war, war bonds had been his proudest political maneuver. By using these bonds as an alternative form of protection money, he had kept the conflict from reaching the Baylor Federation.

After the war, those bonds had generated huge wealth. He considered this his brightest political achievement. His slogan then was, “We don’t join the war, but enjoy the spoils of victory,” which was widely accepted.

Lately, he had been trying to solve this problem under great pressure. The banks and financial institutions, which represented the state to some extent, were the main buyers of these bonds.

These groups usually kept quiet but controlled many lives and destinies.

He had planned to form a coalition of neutral countries to protect their interests and settle part of the bond issue, calming tensions before addressing the rest.

He and his staff believed the difficulties were temporary unless the victors forced them into the defeated camp.

He never expected the crisis to erupt now. Feeling anxious and angry, he asked, “Which fool did this?”

The chief of staff explained everything. Neither the president nor his cabinet or staff had imagined that banks and financial institutions would shamelessly shift the risk.

They knowingly distributed bonds worth little more than paper to financial companies, artificially inflating foreign bonds and making ordinary citizens the main victims.

“That damn greedy wild dog!” the president cursed, then looked seriously at his chief of staff. “Come up with a plan quickly. Also, control the media. I don’t want to stand at a press conference like a fool not knowing how to solve this. Understood?”

The president spent millions annually and countless unseen resources to maintain his staff. Now was the time to prove their worth. The chief of staff nodded solemnly. “I know what to do. We’ll have a solution within twenty-four hours.”

The president’s expression eased slightly. He adjusted his collar and tie and headed back to the conference room. “I hope the next time we meet, you bring good news.”

Almost immediately, the president’s private office notified all major and minor media, even charity magazines and advertisers. They were racing against time.

Even if they couldn’t stop the outbreak, they had to find a truly effective solution before the explosion.

But some things never go as planned.

Mainstream media like Trade Journal, Federal Times, Baylor Daily, and International News Search complied, halting publication of the story. But some tabloids did not.

Happy Every Week was one such paper. Its name matched its content—they served wealthy philanthropists who wished to aid certain girls.

Some people needed help; others wanted to help. Platforms like this existed in every state of the federation and were accepted.

Soliciting sex work was illegal in many states, but aid was legal. The paper earned commission fees as intermediaries—one of their main incomes.

These charity papers never involved themselves in ethics, morals, or current affairs, knowing no one would read such news.

Readers often called their hotline to complain for half an hour, threatening to cancel subscriptions if the front page lacked girls next week.

So, regardless of the outside world, these papers stayed indifferent. But today was different.

“Most of our clients actually benefit from financial trading!”

In the editor’s office, the editor-in-chief, deputy editor, and main editors gathered. The paper was small and specialized but fully staffed.

The publisher sat in his chair, smoking a pipe. “If a financial crisis hits, our clients lose money, and we grow poor because of them.”

“No one subscribes, no calls come in, no commissions. So we must publish this story, warn our clients, and help them minimize losses.”

The editor-in-chief interrupted, “But the president’s office told us not to report this.”

The publisher nodded. “True. So what?”

Looking around casually, he said, “The big papers answer to financiers or politicians who feed them scraps. We only answer to our clients.”

“No clients, no food or drink—for us or the girls.”

“When we near bankruptcy, do you think the president or financiers will save us?”

He shook his head. “No. Only our clients keep us alive. Listen to me: get the presses running. Even if it means liquidation, I’ll bear the burden alone!”

Soon, Happy Every Week published a special edition—usually reserved for major news like new girls or adult film releases.

Subscribers were curious, and the special sold out overnight. Distributors called to order more.

This sparked other papers and media to follow suit. They were just jumping on the bandwagon, with the first to report bearing the risk.

In one night, the entire federation knew.

Banks refused to honor offshore bonds; issuing countries also refused redemption. Bonds people bought for thousands or even hundreds of thousands were now worthless.

Worse, many like Frank had taken personal loans and invested the money into bond trading.

The situation spiraled out of control. Frank and his broker likely didn’t realize they hadn’t just uncovered a wound but pierced a major artery.

The next morning, around nine, loud noise and sirens sounded outside a mansion.

Frank woke suddenly from a night on a comfortable sofa—more comfortable than his bed—the true value of money.

Still groggy, he approached the window and looked out. All sleep vanished.

Outside gathered numerous police officers, armed police, and what appeared to be soldiers. Cursing, he pulled back from the window.

That damn broker must have reported it. Frank had suspected it when the broker didn’t return last night but was still waiting—for hope. Or maybe the broker’s call to the police was part of the plan.

If the bonds couldn’t be redeemed, this place would become a crime scene. He had seen plenty of movies and TV shows like this.

When criminals take hostages, they can make demands—such as calling journalists and media to gather—so they can explain their actions.

This would cause a sensation across the federation. People would sympathize with him and support his cause. Even if he ended up in prison, at least his money would be safe.

It was a strategic idea. For an ordinary person, gathering the media like that would be nearly impossible. But for a criminal, it was easy.

However, reality doesn’t always follow a movie script.

While Frank waited in his bedroom for the negotiator’s call, a special operations team had already begun breaching the door. From the start, their mission was clear: kill Frank and silence him.

The secret was out and beyond repair. Frank’s survival no longer mattered. Some people just needed to vent, and a dead Frank would satisfy that.

From the breach to the gunfire took less than five minutes.

In the end, the team leader reported to the on-site commander with a grim face, recounting a terrible event.

Frank had resisted fiercely, armed with a deadly weapon and threatening the hostages. To protect them, they had to shoot and kill the attacker Frank on the spot.

The commander raised an eyebrow. “That truly is a regrettable outcome.”