novelraw Chapter 259: To Wardenclyffe
Chapter 259: To Wardenclyffe
Every word in Mr. Morgan's speech was loaded with meaning.
That document, which he called "expired materials," lay quietly in the center of the mahogany desk, both like bait and like tacit permission.
It was a typical politician's maneuver, simultaneously absolving official responsibility while granting the executors enough room to act.
If Lin Jie and the others succeeded, the credit would naturally include mention of the North American branch's strategic planning; if they failed, it would merely be the reckless actions of an "unofficial" team, having nothing to do with the I.A.R.C. North American branch.
A flicker of anger crossed Ethan's face.
Born into the highest echelons of the British aristocracy, he had been steeped since childhood in these "sophisticated" tactics of weighing pros and cons and shifting blame. He found them repulsive, yet deeply understood how difficult they were to shake.
Lin Jie's reaction was different.
He showed no anger or disappointment, directly reaching out to take the file. This was exactly the outcome he had anticipated.
"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Morgan." He nodded politely. "These 'expired materials' will be of great help to our 'academic research.'"
A glint of approval flashed in Morgan's eyes.Compared to the impulsive Ethan, this Eastern youth clearly understood better how to comprehend and utilize the gray areas of the rules.
"I am not generous, Mr. Lin." Morgan adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. "I am merely, as a 'private individual,' providing some insignificant convenience for a brave 'exploration plan.'"
"From the moment you step out this door, all your actions will have no connection to the I.A.R.C. North American branch. You will receive no official support, no backup forces, not even distress signals will be recorded. You will be a completely isolated force."
"I understand," Lin Jie replied crisply.
"No, you don't yet understand." Morgan shook his head, his tone turning grave.
"You only see the threat posed by the completed Aether Tower, but you don't truly understand the enemy you are about to face. Wardenclyffe is not a swamp in the Black Forest, nor an ancient tomb beneath Cairo. It is a modern steel fortress built by science and electricity."
"There, the mystical methods you are accustomed to may be greatly weakened. Your Grotesque Armaments might even be less effective than an ordinary shotgun."
Morgan paused, as if organizing his words.
"We once dispatched three elite infiltration teams to attempt to sabotage the Aether Tower's power supply facilities from the periphery."
"They all failed."
"Two of those teams were completely wiped out, their bodies never recovered. The only surviving team brought back intelligence consisting of just one word—'Owls.'"
"Owls?" Ethan frowned. This word seemed utterly disconnected from a scientific fortress.
"Yes, owls made of clockwork and brass." Morgan's tone carried a trace of apprehension. "They fly silently in the night sky, their eyes gleaming with a gaslight-like glow, capable of automatically identifying and eliminating any unauthorized spiritual fluctuations."
"They are Edison's eyes and claws, the outermost and most insurmountable line of defense for that fortress."
After hearing this description, Ethan's expression turned grim.
An automated mechanical patrol corps capable of countering mystical forces sounded like a nightmare.
"So, I will advise you one last time." Morgan's gaze locked onto Lin Jie again. "If we allow the Aether Tower to be completed, we might still have room for maneuver. But choosing to force your way in, you will be walking into certain death."
"Give up, Mr. Lin. This isn't bravery; it's suicide."
Lin Jie listened quietly to Morgan's warning, his face showing no change in expression.
He didn't rush to refute. First, he carefully flipped through the file in his hand, his gaze slowly sweeping over the complex contour lines and meteorological data.
"Mr. Morgan," Lin Jie looked up, his tone firm, "You just mentioned a word, 'room for maneuver.'"
"Correct."
"May I ask, when a gun is already pressed against your forehead, what exactly does your so-called 'room for maneuver' refer to? Is it begging the other party not to shoot, or negotiating with them about which posture would be more dignified to die in?"
Lin Jie's words mercilessly pierced the hypocritical facade of the "containment strategy" Morgan had meticulously constructed.
"So-called room for maneuver is merely an illusion the weak use to numb themselves." Lin Jie gently closed the file, looking directly into Morgan's eyes.
"The threat of the Aether Tower has transcended the scope of regional balance. It is not an ordinary gun; it is a guillotine blade suspended above all our heads, slowly descending."
"Allowing it to be completed is tantamount to willingly handing over the fate of us all into the hands of Thomas Edison. I cannot accept such a future."
A gleam shone in Ethan's eyes. He straightened his chest and stood beside Lin Jie, using his action to declare his stance.
Morgan's expression became somewhat unpleasant.
He found that he could not suppress this young man before him, neither logically nor in terms of presence.
His rhetoric, which had been invincible on Wall Street and Capitol Hill, was pale and powerless before this pure problem-solver who focused only on the core contradiction.
The air in the office solidified once more. At that moment, the mahogany door was pushed open roughly.
"Bang!"
Hawk Hawkeye appeared in the doorway.
He had heard the entire conversation without missing a word, and his face now displayed impatience and disdain.
"I've long been fed up with you city folks' dawdling, gentlemanly posturing." Hawk strode over to Lin Jie's side, his battle-axe leaving a mark on the expensive carpet.
"Balance? Containment?" He let out a derisive snort, glaring unceremoniously at Morgan. "In our tribe, there's only one way to deal with a venomous snake like Edison."
He extended his large, fan-like hand and made a crisp, decisive throat-slitting gesture.
"That is, before he bites, use an axe to chop his head off."
This berserker, who believed "the best defense is a good offense," had declared his stance in the most direct way.
Hawk was weary of the branch's restrictive strategies. He yearned for a hearty, satisfying battle, not endless word games in an office.
"I'm joining them." Hawk's voice exploded in the office. "Whether the branch approves or not, I, Skullcrusher Hawk, swear upon the honor of my tribal ancestors to fight side by side with these two warriors from Europe."
The situation reversed at this moment.
Morgan could ignore Lin Jie, could disregard Ethan's status, but he could not ignore Hawk Hawkeye.
This absolute ace of the North American branch was not merely a powerful warrior; he was also the spiritual leader for those frontline hunters within the branch who craved action.
His decision would cause turmoil throughout the entire branch.
Ultimately, faced with this powerful combined force of wisdom, financial power, and martial might, Morgan, the shrewd "banker," was forced to make the most difficult compromise of his tenure.
"Alright..." He waved his hand wearily. "Since you are all determined to take a stroll through that scientific hell, my dissuasion is meaningless."
"I can tacitly permit your operation, but with one prerequisite." Morgan sat back down in his seat, regaining that businessman's shrewdness. "I need a reasonable 'pretext' that can be written into a report."
Ethan immediately understood. He stepped forward and said solemnly, "In the name of the Redgrave family. I will use the family's reputation and my shares in the Association's council as collateral. I personally bear all consequences of this operation."
"Very good." Morgan nodded. Ethan's guarantee gave him enough of a face-saving exit. "Then, the nature of the operation will be defined as a commercial risk assessment of the 'electrical engineering' in the Wardenclyffe area, privately funded and commissioned by Mr. Redgrave with external experts."
Morgan looked at Lin Jie and Hawk.
"And you two are the experts he hired. As for your identities..." He took out two brand-new documents from a drawer. "One is an electrical engineer from the Royal Society of England, and the other is... a local guide responsible for security work."
"So this old fox had it prepared all along," Lin Jie thought to himself upon seeing the documents on the table.
"But that's not enough." Morgan added, "Your team consists entirely of experts from the mystical side, lacking understanding of the scientific side. Going to Wardenclyffe like this is no different from a group of primitive men wielding spears challenging a modern army equipped with Maxim guns."
He pressed an electric bell on the desk.
Soon, the office door opened, and the young technical expert named Phineas walked in.
"Phineas, from now on you are temporarily on leave from the branch." Morgan said in a commanding tone. "You will serve as my personally assigned technical advisor, joining this unofficial exploration team to provide all intelligence analysis and technical support regarding the scientific side."
Phineas was momentarily stunned, but quickly stood at attention and saluted. "Yes, sir."
Thus, a bizarrely composed four-person team—consisting of an Eastern strategist, a British noble, a Native American berserker, and a New York tech geek—was officially formed.
Their target was the scientific fortress deep on Long Island, personally built by Thomas Edison.
As they were about to leave the museum and embark on this perilous journey, Phineas once again received an encrypted telegram from the East.
"Mr. Lin," Phineas quickly caught up to Lin Jie and handed over the decoded telegram. "It's from Mr. Julian. It's very brief."
Lin Jie took the telegram, his eyes quickly scanning it.
The telegram contained only two sentences.
"Tai Sui has appeared. Wolves are circling."
These few words weighed heavily on Lin Jie's heart.
The crisis on the Eastern front had arrived faster and more fiercely than he had anticipated.
Julian, alone and deep in that snake-pit of a Far Eastern black market, was undoubtedly in an extremely difficult situation.
Lin Jie put away the telegram, rubbed his head, and looked out the window.
An unmarked black carriage was already parked quietly at the museum's back door.
The carriage was pointed toward the road leading to Long Island.