Empire of Shadows

The ringing of the telephone temporarily silenced the gentlemen in the room. Edward's father glanced at him before walking to his desk and answering the phone. "This is the Wharf Management Corporation."

Wharf Management Corporation is actually a general term. Under it are the Wharf Warehouse Management Company, the Wharf Transportation Management Company, the Wharf Site Leasing Company, and so on. The entire King's Port Wharf is basically managed by the Wharf Management Corporation.

Some of these industries belong to the company, some belong to the shareholders and directors themselves, and some are entrusted to the company by others.

This book is first published on the whole network by 𝕥 𝕨 𝕜 𝕒 𝕟 . 𝕔 𝕠 𝕞

Capitalists know how to earn more profit—pricing power.

If there is competition, such as the wharf warehouses being divided into many areas, the most common being the seven warehouses of the seven wharves, these warehouses belong to different enterprises.

If they all have their own interests and competitive claims, the owners of these seven warehouses on the wharf will have to engage in vicious competition.

To them, this is vicious competition.

They compete with each other on service and warehouse prices, ultimately compressing their own profit margins to attract customers.

Customers only need to wait a little longer, not being in such a hurry to sign contracts, to keep the warehouse prices at a relatively low level.

But entrusting these warehouses to the Wharf Management Corporation to handle is equivalent to indirectly controlling pricing power.

Some people regard "pricing power" as one of the characteristics of monopoly, and only when actual monopolistic behavior occurs can pricing power be controlled.

Now the Wharf Management Corporation is like this. They handle almost all matters on the wharf directly or indirectly, which is why they need so many workers.

Edward's office is his father's office, and they are currently receiving several important guests here.

Lance, Vaughn, and some of the people they brought are discussing workers' issues with the board of directors.

He glanced at Lance. He had a feeling the first time he met this person that he was not simple, and this has now been confirmed.

He possesses all the qualities of a young man, but also the calmness of a mature, older person, which is actually very contradictory.

Youth and old age.

Young people run in the direction of the wind, while old people sit in wheelchairs covered with blankets. These two seemingly contradictory extremes are concentrated in Lance alone.

This makes it difficult for some people not to notice him.

He heard a somewhat familiar voice from the receiver, but couldn't remember where he had heard it before. "I'm looking for the rotating president... Sir, is he available now?"

Edward glanced at his father, who was smiling and chatting with Lance, and leaned slightly to the side. "He is not available right now. You can tell me what's going on, and I can relay it to him."

"We are representatives of the dockworkers, and we want to hold a new round of consultations on the resumption of work."

The other party's tone was no longer as stiff as it had been yesterday or the day before. Edward said, "I'll relay that," and covered the microphone, looking at his father.

"The workers' representatives are calling, wanting to continue consultations with us."

His father looked at Lance, his face full of smiles. "Do you think we should talk to them?"

Lance fiddled with his cigarettes and matches on the table in front of him, arranging them neatly.

Sometimes he has a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but sometimes he doesn't. It might be there, but not strong, so it can't always be shown.

"I don't think we need to continue consultations with them. There are already about nine thousand workers on the wharf who have started working, and they are doing very well."

"We don't need to talk to them about those meaningless things. If they don't want to work, tell them that they have now gotten their wish, a very long vacation, but without pay!"

The people in the room showed some smiles, taking it as an ironic joke!

"Compared to these groups that cause us trouble at the drop of a hat, I actually prefer to establish a closer cooperative relationship with Mr. Lance's company."

The price Lance offered them was twenty-three dollars and fifty cents per person per month. The board of directors couldn't wait to terminate the contracts with all the workers and then sign a contract with Lance!

The wages were reduced by nearly seventeen to eighteen dollars a month. With more than ten thousand workers, they could save two hundred thousand dollars a month in wages.

However, both sides are now very clear that these people cannot continue working like this forever.

They are now just showing that the strike threat will not affect them, in order to make them recognize a reality: the wharf cannot operate without them.

In fact, they still need to hire more local workers to work, and only in this way is it in the interests of everyone.

But now, they must let those striking workers know that they are not indispensable.

Edward turned around and released his hand. "Sorry, we don't want to talk about this right now."

"If there is any further news, we will post it on the bulletin board. Just pay attention to the bulletin board."

"That's it, goodbye!"

After he hung up the phone, he returned to his seat. Lance and the rotating presidents of the board of directors and the directors who came to participate in the board meeting continued to chat.

With some changes in the wharf's labor situation, naturally, some strategies need to be adjusted.

"...Currently, our wage quotation is based on their refugee status. After this special period ends, their wage structure may change."

"And I hope everyone can understand that this is just an emergency measure. We are not very clear about how the Presidential Palace and the Governor's side will define these refugees in the future."

"Maybe they will become federal citizens, obtain federal citizenship, and immigration certificates, then their salary structure will definitely change."

"If the federal government is unwilling to recognize turning them into legal immigrants, then we can maintain such a labor cost for a long time!"

"Until it changes."

Lance took a puff of his cigarette. "I like to say the unpleasant things first, and I hope you can understand."

"This is better than me saying nothing, and then suddenly making changes after some problems occur, catching both of us off guard."

"In addition, I have a request: all workers' wages should be deposited into the account I designate, and I will distribute the wages to these people."

After listening, the directors briefly discussed it for a while, and the executive director said, "No problem," "This is a small matter, we have no objection."

He glanced at Vaughn. "Are these refugees considered members of the union?"

Lance shook his head and said, "They belong to no one except me!"

The secret to successful "business" is to reach a limited agreement. Lance is a very frank person. He brings out the bad and the good. If it can be done, it can be done; if it can't be done, it can't be done.

In fact, there is nothing that cannot be done, because they have no choice now, and the two sides quickly reached an agreement.

Before the refugee policy changes, they will use Lance's Wanli Labor Agency to provide these refugee workers to provide services to various wharf facilities.

Wages are paid directly to Lance, rather than to each individual or their accounts.

After signing the agreement, Lance left with his people, but the smiles on the faces of the directors in the office gradually faded.

Edward sat aside, and he vaguely felt that he could learn something again.

"A very sharp, very smart young man. Why didn't we notice him before?" The chairman of the board was also present today, but he didn't say anything throughout the whole process, and no one introduced Lance's true identity to him.

He participated in today's "negotiations" throughout the whole process, and this is his most honest evaluation of Lance.

Edward nudged his father's arm with his elbow and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

"You guys don't seem too happy?"

Edward's father glanced at him askance, and the other directors all smiled.

The executive director even said with a smile, "At least Edward wants to know why, but my son only asks me for money!"

This sentence brought a little more smile to Edward's father's face. He licked his lips and said, "Lance can actually provide us with more refugee workers, but you see, he only provides five thousand and will not increase it anymore."

Edward nodded and asked, "So?"

"That's where he's smart!" The old man sighed. Comparing Lance with his own son, he felt that his son was a bit... young.

"If he provided more refugee workers, then he would have the final say on everything at the wharf."

"He directly controls the information, accounts, and distribution channels of these refugee workers. Although he doesn't have any shares here, he can still be on an equal footing with us by relying on these things."

"Using these workers."

"He also knows that we can't agree, or rather, we can't let the wharf be entirely filled with his people, so he only arranged for five thousand, and we have to think of some ways to solve the rest ourselves."

"He has guaranteed his interests, and can paralyze the operation of the wharf for a period of time at any time, while also avoiding our bottom line."

Edward was a little depressed after listening. "I never thought it would be so complicated."

His father wasn't too dissatisfied, but instead encouraged him, "You can think more about it, think from his perspective, think from our perspective, and you will find the benefits of doing so."

"You may not have any talent, but as long as you think more, at least you won't be too stupid!"

Edward asked, "What about those workers now?"

The managing director replied indifferently, "Let them sit for a while…"

Lance had Vaughn leave downstairs because his current identity was a bit awkward. If the union planned to fire him, Lance would have him come and work for him.

Vaughn was capable.

However, he believed that the union was unlikely to move against him now, and even if they did, it would be after this matter had completely subsided.

The gradual resumption of work at the docks relieved many people, and the dock management company began preparing to negotiate with the companies and enterprises that used the docks.

Now that they no longer had the weapon of "strike," making them pay a price was a difficult task!

A large number of refugees were speechless with excitement because they had a place to work and could eat a free lunch. Everyone worked very hard.

This forced the workers who had originally planned to slack off to start working hard as well.

On the one hand, they were unwilling to be outdone by these refugee workers, and on the other hand, they still had a little bit of their own pride.

Although it wasn't worth much, and they might not be able to maintain it for long, at least they didn't want to be worse than these refugees.

This was involution, and even the illegal immigrant workers were forced to get involved. These refugees could obviously make the company earn more.

If they didn't perform well enough, they were worried that their jobs would be replaced by those refugee workers.

A rare wave of passionate work appeared on the docks, which made those workers who were temporarily out of work feel depressed.

The more enthusiastically those refugees worked, the more depressed they became.

"Or… forget it," some people stood outside the barbed wire fence of the dock, watching the busy figures inside through the fence. "Actually, we have already achieved our initial goals, and we shouldn't continue to raise demands."

"I heard that they have re-signed the contract with the company, with a raise of fifteen dollars a month, and an extra half-hour of rest every day."

Some people around him also quite supported his view, "The bills are coming soon. If we can't go back to work now, I'm worried that they won't pay us our wages."

The mood of the people around him was not very high. They should be feeling very happy at this time!

They could sleep until noon every day, and they didn't need to drag their tired bodies to do some boring work day after day.

While others were quickly getting soaked in the hot sun, they could sit or stand here, blowing the sea breeze and enjoying their leisure time.

But for some reason, at this moment, they always felt a sense of confusion and bewilderment.

The busier the people behind the barbed wire were, the more empty and uneasy they felt.

The guy who spoke first spat out the matchstick he had been chewing into shreds and turned to walk towards the back, "Go, find them, and let them talk to the company. We accept the current conditions."

The others also made a decision and followed him.

In fact, it wasn't just him; many workers felt uneasy.

If the docks really fired them all, what would be the use even if the whole country went on strike to support them?

They had already lost their jobs!

So, many people had already found the workers' representatives and asked them to talk to the company.

Things had begun to move in another direction!

Senator Cleveland used some of his connections, and soon the media in various places began to report the changes happening here. The workers actively demanded to resume work, the work order at the Golden Port docks had been restored, and the strike was coming to an end.

On the first weekend of August, Lance appeared in the farewell room of the Golden Port Cemetery in a very solemn suit. It was decorated like a small church, with an exquisite coffin inside.

Paul lay inside with his hands crossed on his chest, surrounded by flowers.

Today was his funeral.

After Dover took those cannon fodders who had realized things were going wrong to Sumuri Island, the family head's uncles cleaned up Dover's lineage.

Now, it was time to bury Paul.

Alberto sat in the second row. Logically speaking, he shouldn't be able to sit in that position, but recently he had been active in the affairs of the Pasreto family and had gained Francisco's trust, so he was qualified to sit in the second row.

As the process continued to advance, the next step was to pay respects.

Some relatives and friends could go up and say something.

People seemed to have a lot to say. They went up one by one, some were serious, some were dull, but there were also some that made people want to laugh while also feeling a little sad.

Alberto also went up. He walked to the side of the coffin, held the coffin lid, and bent down. He whispered something, but no one could hear clearly.

Then he came to the podium, held the podium, and looked at these people.

"Many people have already said what I wanted to say, or what I wanted to hear."

"Paul was an amazing person. We met him for various reasons. He was like my brother and my teacher, bringing me from Sumuri to the Federation and giving me everything I have today here."

"He gave me a new life!"

"We should have stayed together, but… he is lying here now. I don't want to say that son of a bitch's name, but I swear, one day I will bring him back and pour his blood beside Paul!"

He paused, his eyes lingering slightly on a few people, "Cisco is Paul's beloved son and the legitimate heir to the Pasreto family. I will follow Paul's wishes and make him a qualified family head!"

"If anyone tries to hurt him, I will make them pay the price!"

He slammed his fist on the podium, "The price of blood!"

After the memorial service, it was time for the farewell. Amidst the wails of his wife and son, the coffin lid slowly closed, and then he was sent to the selected gravesite.

There were many tombstones of Pasreto family members nearby. They would all be buried near here after their deaths, including those gravesites that were still empty, which had already been bought.

The priest from Sumuri began to recite the eulogy. They didn't believe that the Federation's God would bless them, so they specifically sought out a priest from Sumuri.

As the final process ended, Lance sequentially presented the flowers in his hand. The group stood by the grave, watching Francisco throw the first handful of soil in.

Paul's brothers began to pour the soil in, and the atmosphere at the scene was very sad.

Everyone, whether sincere or hypocritical, showed a sad expression, but there was only one exception—

Paul on the tombstone!

Paul on the tombstone turned his head sideways, revealing a smile as he looked at the people in front of the tombstone. Soon, some people began to weep.

When the last shovel of soil was compacted, the funeral came to an end.

They began to say goodbye to the guests, and soon it was Lance's turn.

"Some of Paul's things… will be distributed next week or the week after. I'm worried that someone will make trouble at this time. You have to come and help me."

Alberto seemed to have changed a bit from before, with a sharper aura.

Lance nodded, "Give me a call!"

He turned to look at Francisco, walked over, and hugged him as well, "Although your father has left, he will be watching over you in heaven."

"You must be strong, and you must take care of your family and your mother. I believe everything will be alright."

Alberto corrected him, "It's Uncle Lance!"