Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 80 Old Pinkerton's Shock

"what happened!"

Pinkerton's heart sank.

The living room! That's the living room! His daughter-in-law and grandchildren are all there!
"Bang! Bang!"

Two more gunshots rang out, not from outside, but from the corridor!

"Enemy attack! Protect the gentlemen!"

The study door was flung open, and two bodyguards rushed in, attempting to push the Pinkerton father and his two sons into the emergency exit behind the wall.

But it's still too late.

A bullet pierced straight through the first bodyguard's forehead.

Just as the second bodyguard raised his gun, a leather boot kicked out from the shadows and struck him squarely in the chest.

He flew backwards and smashed over old Pinkerton's desk.

Three masked men blocked the entrance to the study.

"Don't move, gentlemen!"

The masked leader casually shot and killed the bodyguard who had just gotten up, then pointed his gun at the father and his two sons.

“Our people have visited every room in this house.”

"The twelve guards outside are all sleeping peacefully now."

"what?"

Robert and William were so shocked they gasped for breath.

The twelve guards were taken care of without a sound?
That's impossible! How did they get in?
"Ah! Let me go! Let my child go!"

The sound of the daughter-in-law crying could be heard from the living room.

Soon, William and Robert's wife, along with their three terrified children, were shoved into the study by two other gunmen.

"mom!"

The youngest granddaughter was so frightened that she burst into tears.

"FUCK!"

Robert's eyes widened in fury, and he suddenly raised his gun to retaliate.

"boom!"

The masked leader was faster than him.

The bullet grazed Robert's ear and landed half an inch behind him on the floor.

"I told you, don't move!"

The gunman said menacingly, "Otherwise, your son will be next to die!"

Robert calmed down after that.

"Lock them in that bedroom over there!"

The cries of the woman and children were quickly muffled by the heavy bedroom door.

An armed assassin stood guard at the door.

Now only the Pinkerton father, sons, and the masked man in charge remain in the study.

William and Robert, the two tough guys who control half of Pinkerton, were now covered in cold sweat.

where is this place?
Chicago is their headquarters.

It's one of the safest places in the entire United States!

How could they have let the enemy take over their base without them even noticing?

Who are these people?! How can they possess such terrifying abilities?!

On the contrary, Alan Pinkerton quickly forced himself to calm down after the initial shock.

He then lowered the hand that had been holding a Deringer pistol, which he had been hiding under the table.

It's no longer useful.

"Ahem! Whose people are you?"

"Is it for money? Or something else?"

At this moment, Lawson's thoughts turned to the assassin leader.

Lawson ignored him and leisurely walked to old Pinkerton's wine rack.

"Tsk, tsk."

He picked up a bottle of wine and looked at it under the light.

"The Macallan of 1858, what a fine wine."

He poured himself a glass and then sat down imposingly opposite the Pinkerton father and his two sons.

Old Pinkerton froze.

Lawson removed his mask.

It was a strange and cold white face.

He held his wine glass, observing the three pale-faced legendary figures with great interest.

He then smiled and his gaze finally settled on Robert.

Robert felt a chill run down his spine from that look.

"Mr. Robert Pinkerton."

“You usually oversee the New York branch and East Coast operations, so it’s great to be back in Chicago.”

He took a sip of whiskey and smiled as he uttered chilling words: "With the whole family together, it saves our people the trouble of making another trip to New York."

Robert jerked violently.

This person not only knew his own name, but also his business operations based in New York.

"you……"

Old Pinkerton asked dryly, "You guys are those Irish gangsters from California?"

"what!"

Lawson smiled and poured a glass of wine into the empty glass in front of Pinkerton.

"The old man has such good eyesight; he recognized us at a glance."

Lawson raised the bottle, gesturing towards the wine.

"I have always respected you. After all, there aren't many people who can build such an empire from scratch. Let's have a drink!"

“Father, don’t drink!” William growled.

"boom!"

The assassin standing behind William slammed his rifle butt into William's lower back.

William was in pain, but he still tried to stop him: "My father is sick, he can't drink!"

"William!"

Old Pinkerton stopped his eldest son, then picked up his glass.

"I spent eighty dollars on this bottle of 1858 Macallan. If I drink it before I die, at least it won't be a waste."

After saying that, he drank the glass of wine in one gulp.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

Lawson clapped softly, his smile widening.

"Great job, old man. You've got guts. I'm even starting to like you a little."

"Then, let me ask you a question. Does the Pinkerton family have any other heirs?"

For example, an illegitimate child? Or a grandchild born to a married daughter?

Old Pinkerton's heart sank: "No."

"Oh?"

Lawson raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise: "So, in other words, if tonight I kill all three of you, along with all the women and children in the bedroom..."

"Does this mean that the Pinkerton family, famous throughout America, will become history?"

“FUCK YOU! You bastard!” Robert could no longer hold back and cursed.

But before he could utter a few more curses, the gun was already pressed against the back of his head.

The cold touch forced him to shut his mouth.

Old Pinkerton, however, was frank and admitted directly: "That's right, if we kill everyone here, the Pinkerton family will be destroyed. I may have made a mistake."

"Oh?"

Lawson leaned closer: "What mistake? Regret calling Mr. Robert back from New York? That he couldn't escape this mess?"

"Do not."

Old Pinkerton shook his head: "My mistake was that the rapid development and success of the past few years made me lose the vigilance that a hunter should have."

"I thought, ha!"

He chuckled self-deprecatingly: "I thought I could rest easy living in the most fortified fortress in all of Chicago, with the most elite guards. I overestimated myself."

"I underestimated you."

"I never imagined that a bunch of lunatics scavenging for food in the California wilderness could bypass the security cordon I set up in Chicago and walk into my room like ghosts!"

"I underestimated a group of truly reckless desperados."

"Hahahaha!"

Lawson suddenly burst into wild laughter: "Well said! Outlaw, I like that word!"

"So, since you're all going to die anyway, old man, do you have any last words? If it's something I can do, I might consider granting it. For example, should I kill you first, or your son first?"

Faced with such humiliation, William and Robert were on the verge of losing their temper, wishing they could tear this Irish bastard to pieces immediately. Unfortunately, they both had guns pointed at the back of their heads; if they weren't careful, they would truly lose everything!

Even so, old Pinkerton remained calm.

This man, who climbed his way up from the slums of Scotland to the very top of America's dark side, has seen far too much in his life.

The current situation is not necessarily a hopeless predicament.

"The fact that you sat down to talk to me, drank my wine, and even poured me more wine proves that we can still communicate."

"Since we can communicate, it proves that things haven't reached the final stage yet. Besides, we don't have any deep-seated hatred between us. My family doesn't necessarily have to die, am I right?"

Lawson took a sip of his drink with a half-smile, neither admitting nor denying it.

He simply raised his chin, signaling old Pinkerton to continue.

Old Pinkerton breathed a sigh of relief; he had made the right bet on this first step.

“For professionals like you, killing us all might be effortless, but the aftermath would be extremely troublesome.”

“If our family were wiped out overnight in our Chicago stronghold, it would cause nationwide panic. This is not just about the death of a few agents; it is a declaration of war against the order of this country.”

"At that point, not only will the federal government intervene, but the railroad companies, the bankers, all our clients will go crazy. They will see this as a threat to them. The next step will be to search the entire country and find you Irish people, whether you are guilty or not, and hang you all one by one!"

"I imagine you wouldn't want to face such endless trouble, would you?"

Lawson remained noncommittal and poured Alan Pinkerton another drink.

“Mr. Allen, you have another reason, a reason that can truly convince me not to kill you.”

Old Pinkerton frowned; threats seemed to have no effect on him.

This young madman is a formidable opponent.

"Your Mightiness."

He thought for a moment and played his last card: "A living Pinkerton is more useful to you than a dead Pinkerton."

"You can make your demands. Money, weapons, or the complete withdrawal of our influence in California?"

"As long as we can meet our requirements, all of this can be discussed. You can then decide whether to kill us or not. That's fair."

After he finished speaking, the study fell silent.

The three men, father and sons, stared nervously at the assassin before them.

What does he really want?

But he wasn't in a hurry to make demands. Instead, he leaned back on the sofa and changed to a more comfortable position.

"Mr. Allen, have you thought about this?"

"If we hadn't shown up here tonight, and if this hadn't happened, how long would your proud Pinkerton family have survived?"

This question left both the Pinkerton father and son speechless.

Robert was the first to realize what kind of problem this was.

He couldn't help but roar: "Pinkton is now the largest private armed force in the country! We are the most important partner of the federal government!"
All business owners and giants rely on our protection!
Our business is thriving, and our agents are all over the country!
Pinkerton will continue for over a hundred years, even…”

"I didn't ask you."

Lawson lazily interrupted him, but Robert slammed the gun barrel against the back of his head, choking back all his remaining words.

Lawson looked quietly at old Pinkerton.

"You think so too?"

Old Pinkerton paused for a few seconds before admitting, "Pinkerton is indeed doing very well. There are no decent competitors in the country, and as long as this country needs order, Pinkerton will continue to be great."

"Continue to be great..."

Lawson repeated the word under his breath, then shook his head.

"No, I have a completely different view from yours. Would you like to hear it?"

Alan Pinkerton felt a chill run down his spine.

The chill didn't come from the gun barrel, but from the man's eyes.

Those eyes were so deep, they seemed to see right through him, reaching into the depths of his mind.

He sat up straight instinctively: "Please speak, we are willing to listen."

Lawson slowly got up and walked to the world map.

"What you call greatness is actually built on sand, with no solid foundation whatsoever."

You only see your own accounts, but you don't see what's happening in this country.

He pointed to Pennsylvania.

"Remember this place? You thought you were maintaining order by suppressing the strike? Wrong! You were creating hatred!"
Every time you kill a miner, it's like giving a gun to a hundred miners.

The labor union, this cancer in your eyes, is growing stronger with your blood!

"You think you're partners of the federal government? Don't fool yourselves. In their eyes, you're just a private army not controlled by Congress!"

You have more agents than the country's standing army! Your eyes are everywhere!

Do you think those politicians in the White House can still sleep at night under these circumstances?

They're just waiting for the right moment, the perfect opportunity to uproot you all!

"Your proud interstate law enforcement powers are your biggest death knell! You disregard local laws and hunt down criminals across states. Do you think those governors and state legislatures will like you bunch of outlaws?"

I bet.

Lawson gave a cold laugh: "In less than twenty years, at most fifteen years, a state, like Ohio or Montana, will be the first to jump out and pass a bill, a bill specifically targeting you."

“They will pass legislation to prohibit any state or municipal government from hiring Pinkerton agents, they will call it… let me think.”

Lawson feigned deep thought: "Let's call it the Anti-Pinkerton Act!"

"Anti-Pinkton Law!"

The three Pinkertons felt a buzzing in their heads and froze on the spot.

At first, the group was dismissive, thinking it was just a scare tactic by the bandits.

But as I listened, I realized something was off.

Although I'm very reluctant to admit it, what this person said does make sense.

They knew better than anyone that the company was facing increasing resistance when enforcing laws in various states.

They have already sensed that the unions, after their defeat, are becoming increasingly organized and politically motivated, but they have never considered these issues from this perspective.

Now, this gang member, whom they regard as Irish scum, is standing in their study, using a godlike perspective to precisely dissect the deadly hidden dangers concealed beneath the glamorous exterior of the Pinkerton Empire.

"so."

After a long pause, Lawson spoke again, pulling the three back to reality: "Are you three ready to embark on your journey with your families?"

(End of this chapter)