Chapter 646 Eating Melon

Arriving at Lina’s place, Wayne had just turned the corner when he saw Peter the Spider lying on his back on a table under an awning, gnawing on what looked like a faded “grey crystal.”

The two girls were sitting at a small table, eating what was, in a sense, a rather “incorrect” fruit – watermelon.

Wayne unceremoniously reached out and grabbed a slice for himself. Though it had many seeds, the taste was refreshingly cool and crisp. It must have been chilled in the nearby river.

Unfortunately, the watermelon varieties in America at that time were not very good. If this were in the world Wayne came from before he transmigrated, street vendors selling something that looked like an unripe melon would probably get cut with a knife in a TV show.

Biting into his watermelon, Wayne looked around but didn’t see Little Black Girl. He couldn’t help but tell a dark joke to Lina, the master of stereotypes: “Where’s Alicia? Why didn’t you call her over to eat with us?”

Lina clearly hadn’t heard of the meme. She merely looked up slightly, spitting seeds intermittently like a pea shooter: “'Soften' just came over to deliver the compiled intelligence. He’s teaching her literacy now, as you requested earlier… And this watermelon was brought by her! The Plantation occasionally gives watermelons as rewards to slaves who perform well. The steward also sent some to the workshop as gifts, and the rest are piled up in the kitchen.”

Well,

If even Lina hadn’t heard of it, then watermelons nowadays probably hadn’t yet been labeled with racial discrimination or similar tags…

Wayne’s gaze then shifted to Miss Harley, who was beside Lina.

This girl’s eating style was more elegant. She chewed like a hamster, then covered her mouth with a handkerchief to gather the seeds into a corner of her plate. Miss Harley had immediately put down her watermelon when she first saw Wayne, but he didn’t rush to talk to her, noticing she was still chewing what she had just bitten off.

Only when Miss Harley’s mouth was finally free did he begin to ask, “I just heard Doug say you seem to have something you want to ask me?”

Miss Harley instantly sat up straight like a well-behaved child. “Yes… yes. I heard my father talking today about you and the Monks being attacked, and I felt it was necessary to come and warn you to be aware of the risks.”

Tax Officer Quinn?

He was a very shrewd and experienced officer, with a special position and familiar with the local situation. Someone like him should have a rather keen sense in certain areas.

“What does he think about this attack?” Wayne asked curiously.

“My father believes this incident sounds very suspicious and could be a political conspiracy. Both Monks who were attacked have military personnel in their families. Monk Grant’s elder brother was once an Army Captain, and Monk Johnston’s father is even the commander of the Federation’s First Cavalry Regiment and an Army Colonel—both of them graduated from the America Military Academy and participated in the war against Mexico.”

Goodness,

Virginia truly lived up to its reputation as a state that almost completely monopolized the position of America’s President. Even two random Monks in the capital, Richmond, came from no ordinary families.

The America Military Academy is located in West Point, New York City, which is the famous “West Point Military Academy.” The war against the southern neighbor was a great victory that truly expanded America’s territory after its founding. Since then, the Federation’s map has completely spanned the West Coast, and the speed of state formation even lagged behind the speed of territorial expansion.

As for the Federation’s First Cavalry Regiment, as the most famous unit of the Army, it is now stationed in Texas, which has long been a state. Its main purpose is to prevent our dear southern neighbor from coveting the land America has already occupied again—in code, it means prohibiting Mexico from “attempting to unilaterally change the status quo by force.”

But then again,

Political conspiracies are usually a “pulling up a radish brings out the mud” kind of game. Harming family members is one thing, but ambushing family members…

Wayne separately confirmed the identities of the two Monks at the time. Monk Grant, who was still unconscious, had an Army Captain in his family who had already retired, so the necessity of persecuting him didn’t seem high. Monk Johnston, whose identity sounded more prominent, was only the second son in his family and didn’t suffer serious injuries this time at all.

Combined with the Monks’ task assignments and the choice of stakeout locations at the time, the randomness was too great; it didn't seem like something that could have been planned in advance.

Although Wayne had thought about blaming the Sailor Gang for this, it was a bit too absurd for a mere gang to conspire against the military. Even if it were written as news and published in a newspaper, it would probably be slammed as a “conspiracy theory.”

He pondered for a moment, “Hmm… Is Tax Officer Quinn perhaps a little too cautious? I am currently more inclined to believe this was just an ordinary gang retaliation incident, and the target of their attack was more likely me.”

Miss Harley did not refute. The worry on her face seemed to deepen, but she still nodded: “This is also one of the reasons my father allowed me to visit the two ladies. He is also very curious about the specific details of the incident, which might relate to his subsequent career choices.”

I see. With the mayoral election approaching, although the status of officials is unlikely to undergo drastic changes, specific positions will still have varying degrees of power. If one has enough prestige, it’s not uncommon to jump ship and run for councilor if the situation looks unfavorable.

Wayne tried to give Miss Harley a definite answer, “Then I still maintain my view. This attack should not have such deep-seated reasons; it’s more likely just a small action by a local gang. There’s no need to consider it so far-reaching.”

Afterward, Wayne took the opportunity to ask Miss Harley about the situation of several gangs in the Dock Area, as a cross-reference for intelligence.

The identities of the “big shots” behind the gangs were obscure secrets to ordinary people, but to an old hand like Tax Officer Quinn, they were just basic common sense.

Thus, several names that were not uncommon in local newspapers were pointed out one by one.

The Sailor Gang, targeted by Wayne, was, as expected, closely associated with Mr. Schwartz, the banker. The Rabbit Gang, which he had recently contacted, had many backers, relying on several wealthy merchants in the state who were keen on trade. As for the Ireland Violent Group, currently the most suspected of carrying out this attack, its behind-the-scenes boss was said to be the Pryor family, to which the Secretary of State belonged.

Wait a minute,

This last point did not align with the intelligence team’s findings.

Wayne’s gaze instantly darted towards Lina.

The latter, who was leisurely eating watermelon, noticed his gaze and grumbled an explanation, “The intelligence team only started working recently, and ‘Soften’ and his people mostly have access to lower-level individuals. It’s already good that they could trace it to a state councilor; who knew that guy was just a stepping stone?”

This was indeed a bit unexpected for Wayne. The actual status of a Secretary of State could be high or low, but within a state, there was no dispute that he was a “political dignitary.”

However, given that the Ireland Violent Group wasn’t particularly large, Wayne felt he shouldn’t have provoked someone like the Secretary of State. Perhaps this gang was just a small branch or a minor pawn under his command, and might not be truly untouchable.

Hmm…

The two Monks involved in the attack were not people without “status” either.

If the matter possibly involved the military, the Cathedral couldn’t possibly just cover it up without even coming up with a plausible reason, could it?