America 1919

The dim yellow light, the lingering smoke, the exquisite wooden desk, and the shelves full of books. This was Coshek Kevin's study. Once, this place was Coshek Kevin's sanctuary of quiet and contemplation. Here, no matter what happened, Coshek Kevin would always come up with a solution. But today... Coshek Kevin felt as though there was a pitch-black cloud hanging over him. Although invisible, this cloud exerted an unbounded pressure on him. Today, he had called Rudenessey as usual, taking for granted that, like always, Rudenessey would happily agree to meet after receiving his call! But everything had gone contrary to what Coshek Kevin had expected. Instead of Rudenessey, it was Rudenessey's secretary who answered the phone, politely informing him that Cecil was busy and had no time to take his call. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. If it had been any other time, Coshek Kevin would not have been concerned; after all, as a powerful figure in Congress and the House of Representatives, Rudenessey certainly had a lot of work to do. But now was different. At this critical moment, not only did Rudenessey fail to take his call during working hours, but he still hadn't answered any of Coshek Kevin's calls. This made the situation very abnormal! His sharp political acumen alerted Coshek Kevin that today's incident was not simple. After some thought, he dialed Rudenessey's home number again! Rudenessey's study was identical to Coshek Kevin's in both decor and layout. This was after Coshek Kevin had visited Rudenessey's study once and decided to redecorate his own in the same fashion! Rudenessey sat on the sofa in his study, his cigar burnt down to half its length. Below the swirling smoke over the desk was a photograph—a picture of Rudenessey passionately kissing Coshek Kevin at the door of a hotel room! The ringing of the phone was grating to Rudenessey. Looking at the phone, Rudenessey chose not to answer. Instead, he muttered helplessly, "My dear, it's not that I don't want to help you. It's just that I can't help you anymore!" The next day! Having slept poorly all night, Coshek Kevin walked out of his bedroom in his pajamas. An older man now, coupled with the lack of rest, he naturally didn't feel very well. "Dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Kevin, who had been sleeping in separate rooms, saw Coshek Kevin's state and asked with concern. Coshek Kevin feigned a smile and shook his head, "No, it's just that work has been rather bothersome lately!" Mrs. Kevin was a typical traditional American woman who wasn't concerned with outside affairs, naturally unaware of what Coshek Kevin was going through. The two descended the stairs to the dining room! Like many Americans, Coshek Kevin had the habit of reading the newspaper while eating breakfast. Today was no exception. On the dining table lay "The Washington Post". Sitting in his chair, Coshek Kevin picked up the newspaper, casually flipping through it to see if any new developments had arisen. Meanwhile, one of the household servants brought in milk and fried eggs for Coshek Kevin. Just as the servant was about to place the tray in front of him, Coshek Kevin, who was holding the newspaper, suddenly stood up without any warning, knocking the tray from the servant's hands, and his breakfast spilled all over the floor. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up right away!" The servant quickly apologized. But Coshek Kevin paid no heed to the servant's apology, pounding towards his study, nearly falling over in his rush but not caring about such missteps at the moment. All he could focus on was clutching "The Washington Post" tightly in his hand—for him, the sky had already fallen! When he got back to his study and began to call his allies, only to find that not a single one of them answered his calls, he became even more certain; the sky had truly fallen! Slumped on the sofa, Coshek Kevin angrily tore "The Washington Post" to shreds. One could barely make out the content on the torn pieces of "The Washington Post": a radical lurking within the IRS! Of course, the article referred to the assistance Coshek Kevin had previously given to his factory owner friend and the support he voiced for the Bolsheviks. With such a report appearing at this time, Coshek Kevin already surmised the outcome—his political adversaries would surely kick him while he was down. The phone rang! Just then, the phone on Coshek Kevin's desk rang out. The ringing sounded like a lifesaving tune to him, and he hurriedly picked up the phone, "Cecil?" "It's me, Mika!" came Michael Ribeiro's voice from the other end: "By the sound of your voice, you must have seen the content in the newspaper." "Was it you who leaked it?" Coshek Kevin had every reason to suspect that Michael Ribeiro was behind it, for if he fell from grace, it would definitely be beneficial for Michael Ribeiro. "I'm not that foolish," Michael Ribeiro said calmly. "Besides, I would never do anything to harm the reputation of the IRS."