America 1881: They Call Me Legend

"John?"

Through the light, Eva saw the person she was familiar with.

Little Rockefeller was holding the steering wheel, breathing heavily, and stared blankly at Harriman lying in a pool of blood in front of the car.

Eva rushed to the car without saying a word, not forgetting to pick up her cowhide box on the way.

She threw the box into the car through the window, then reached in, opened the door and jumped into the car.

"drive!"

Eva said to little Rockefeller.

"Where are you going?" The eldest young master obviously hasn't recovered yet.

"No matter where you go, get out of here first." Eva was much calmer than Rockefeller.

Rockefeller Jr.'s adrenaline was obviously still at a high level.

He turned the steering wheel suddenly, stepped on the accelerator, and sped along the road by the river.

Harriman's driver was leaning against the door boredly, smoking a cigarette.

His boss told him to wait here and not go in no matter what noise he heard.

He and Harriman watched Eva enter the clothing store.

"The boss is getting more and more playful now. Is it possible that he wants to have a wild game by the river with his beautiful lover?"

While the driver was still thinking about it.

A car suddenly rushed out from the corner, whizzed past him, raising dust all over the sky.

"Cough, cough, fuck you."

The driver was choked and coughed, and yelled at the car that had passed by.

But when he saw the license plate of the car through the light of the streetlight, he was stunned.

"003"!
As one of the first people to buy a vehicle in New York, the owner of this number is still very familiar to everyone in the driver circle.

Rockefeller Jr.

How could this young man appear here, racing like crazy on a deserted road near the river in the middle of the night?

The driver curled his lips and cursed before getting back into the car.

He leaned back in his chair and continued to wait for his boss to return.

at the same time.

221 New York Avenue, in front of the Masonic Salon.

A car stopped on the side of the road, and a young man stepped out of the cab.

He walked to the gate and took off his hat.

"Little Mr. Rockefeller, please show your badge." The waiter at the door said to the man with a smile.

"Since you know me, why do you still want to see my badge?" The man put his hands in his pockets and asked with squinted eyes.

"This is a rule, young master. I said it last time." The waiter still maintained a smile, "What if you are disguised?"

The man reached into his pocket, took out the Rockefeller family's exclusive Masonic badge, and showed it to the waiter.

"Please come in!"

The man walked into the salon.

As he walked, he looked up at the portraits of the pioneers of Freemasonry hanging on both sides of the corridor.

"It turns out this organization is real." The man said to himself.

Before he reached the end of the corridor, the sound of heated discussions in the room could already be heard.

"If we don't think of a way, Northern Securities will definitely be doomed! If Northern Securities is doomed, we won't be able to tell who will be next!"

"It's useless. I went to listen. The evidence from the government is endless, and each one is worse than the last. Northern Securities is hopeless."

"Where's Hanna? What did he say? Just let Roosevelt act like this? What's the difference between the Republican Party and those in the Democratic Party?"

The man turned out of the corridor and walked into the living room.

Sitting in the living room were the same few business tycoons, monopoly tycoons from various industries.

This group of people each have their own ulterior motives, but they also know the truth behind the situation, so while arguing, they have to find a solution together.

Morgan sat in his own chair, lost in thought.

There was an empty chair opposite him.

Everyone noticed little Rockefeller standing at the door.

Most of them have always had the impression that this junior was a drunkard.

Far from his shrewd and tenacious father.

But this man is surprisingly sober today.

Little Rockefeller walked to the chair opposite Morgan and sat down, staring at Morgan across from him.

"I have good news and bad news, which one do you want to hear first?" he suddenly said to Morgan.

Morgan raised his head and looked curiously at the rich kid in front of him who he had never paid attention to before.

The way this man spoke now reminded him of a Chinese, with a "Chen" smell.

"Tell me what the bad news is first?" Morgan was very interested.

"Northern Securities' lawsuit is lost," said Rockefeller Jr., "even if you can kill Roosevelt."

"Don't count on Hanna. I've talked to him. This is the general trend if the Republican Party wants to continue to be in power."

He glanced at the dumbfounded tycoons around him.

"The federal government is increasing its control and influence over the country. Your time has passed."

"You brat, do you know what you're talking about?" Mining tycoon Schmitz stood up from his chair, his eyes widening.

"You should thank my father for taking away those two broken mines in Santa Luciana at a high price." Young Rockefeller replied mercilessly, "otherwise you would have to beg for food in the downtown area now." Mitzi was stunned.

Indeed, if the old Rockefeller hadn't given him a hand 20 years ago, he would have jumped off the bridge long ago.

"Your father is your father, and you are you. Who do you think you are?" He muttered in a low voice.

"My father has retired, and I now represent the Rockefeller family!" Rockefeller Jr. took out his badge.

"That's enough! This is not the place for you to bicker!" Morgan spoke.

His words were coercive and seemed to have a huge weight, and the living room suddenly became quiet.

"What about the good news?" Morgan looked at Rockefeller, "I want to hear the good news."

"The good news is that being split up does not mean the end. You still have the opportunity to make a fortune."

Rockefeller Jr. stood up.

"The Rockefeller family is willing to share some opportunities with you to face the coming big changes."

Harriman's driver waited in the car for hours, but never waited for his boss to return.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong.

So he jumped out of the car, holding a lantern and walked towards the clothing store called "Urban Beauty".

The door of the clothing store was closed, and it was dark inside. It was obviously closed.

After the driver knocked on the door several times but received no response, he walked around to the back of the clothing store and walked to the river.

There was no one on the riverside, only scattered street lights were on.

The driver walked along the road by the river, looking around and calling his boss's name:
"Mr. Harriman! Mr. Harriman!"

However, no one responded to him.

Suddenly, his foot tripped on something and he fell forward.

The driver's hands reached the ground to save himself from the "dog eating shit" situation.

"Damn it, who put sandbags on the road!" The driver cursed and went to pick up the fallen lantern.

He suddenly felt his hands were sticky.

You shouldn't have touched anything disgusting and dirty.

The driver brought his hand to his nose and smelled it.

The smell of blood suddenly entered the driver's nose.

He quickly picked up the lantern and illuminated his surroundings.

It's a good thing he didn't look at it. He almost scared him to death when he looked at it.

A man fell in a pool of blood.

The clothes and body shape on his body looked extremely familiar to the driver.

He mustered up the courage to turn the man over and held up the lantern to illuminate the man's face.

Even if that face was covered in mud and blood, he could still recognize it.

Who is Harriman if not his boss?
There was no breathing anymore, it was already freezing cold.

The driver ran back to his car in despair, and drove the car to report the crime first.

"He has been dead for several hours." After checking the body, the police chief looked at the driver who was standing aside and did not dare to show his anger. "You said you saw Mr. Rockefeller's car passing here before?"

"Well, yes, I saw the number of that car, it's 003! It's undoubtedly Rockefeller's car. No other vehicles passed here except him!" the driver replied firmly.

"Well, there is indeed a serious suspicion." The police chief nodded, "Does Mr. Morgan know about this?"

The driver shook his head: "I haven't had time to inform him yet."

"Then let's go find him." The police chief turned to the other police officers and said, "You survey the scene! See if you can find any other clues."

The sergeant asked around and found out that Morgan was in a private salon.

When he took the driver to 221 New York Avenue, the party inside had just ended.

A kind of giants were leaving the salon door, saying goodbye to each other.

"Mr. Morgan, I have something very urgent to tell you." The police sergeant saw Morgan coming out and immediately walked up.

"Huh? Please say it, Mr. Sheriff." Morgan put on his hat.

"The vice president of your company, Mr. Harriman, was killed on the river bank a few hours ago." The police chief said, "The suspect is probably Rockefeller Jr."

"Who?" Morgan looked at the Sheriff with a strange expression.

"The eldest son of the Rockefeller family, Rockefeller Jr.," said the sergeant. "Harriman's driver saw his car go by."

"Are you talking about me?"

A voice came from behind Morgan.

Both the driver and the sergeant looked at the speaker in disbelief.

Rockefeller Jr. walked out of the salon, looking calm and composed.

"Did you make a mistake? Mr. Rockefeller has been here tonight." Morgan frowned.

Other tycoons also turned around.

"I came here as promised after I finished eating."

Rockefeller Jr. walked up to the Sheriff with a smile, handed him a cigar, and then led him to the front of his car.

The license plate number "003" was intact and showed no signs of impact.

The Sheriff took a deep breath.

He turned around and looked seriously at the stunned driver:

"Sir, please come with me to the police station now."