Blackstone Code

If the tough external stance was one of the climaxes of the press conference, the second came at the very end.

As the conference neared its conclusion, Mr. Truman raised his hand slightly, signaling for silence.

While organizing his documents, he calmly looked at everyone. “Before we end, there’s one more thing I need to tell you—and everyone else.”

“We will continue to pursue resolution at the national level. But vengeance will not be put on hold.”

“Every citizen of the Federation is invaluable. We will not allow any murderer of our citizens to escape justice.”

“If the local authorities can’t resolve the issue, we will.”

Having packed his things, Mr. Truman handed the files to his assistant with a half-smile. “That’s all. Goodbye.”

The reporters were stunned at first, but then it hit them—was this a declaration to act first and talk diplomacy later?

They weren’t sure if their instincts were right, but they were already going wild.

Back in his office, Mr. Truman told his secretary: no calls except from the President.

The President’s calls had to be answered—his position didn’t rely on public support or achievements. If the President wanted him gone, he was gone. Ignoring the President’s call would send the worst possible message.

As expected, right after he spoke, the phone rang nonstop.

He had just sat down when the President’s call came through.

“What did you mean by those last remarks?” The President skipped the usual pleasantries and went straight to the point.

Truman remained calm. “We take out the perpetrators first and secure hard evidence. That way, we gain more leverage in diplomacy.”

The President sounded anxious. “We agreed to maintain a strong posture, not actually use force!”

Truman’s words unsettled him. The use of force was dangerous—it brought risks to society, public opinion, the government, international relations…

There was too much to consider. A single misstep and Congress might impeach him. The Conservative Party had just been hit with one—now they might be looking to do the same to the Progressives.

He was also irritated. Truman hadn’t warned him. He felt blindsided and powerless.

This call wasn’t just about accountability—it was also to vent his frustration.

But Truman had anticipated this. He knew the President well and was ready.

“This wasn’t initiated by me, Mr. President.”

“Just recently, I learned that Mr. Geruno hired Blackstone Security to carry out a military strike. They’ve neutralized the targets and recovered additional evidence. You’ll see it all within two days.”

At the mention of Geruno, the President fell silent.

If it had been a politician—whether from his own party or the opposition—he could have cracked down hard.

But neither Geruno nor Lynch were people to cross—especially Geruno.

Wealth, status, background, power. He had close personal ties with the committee chairs of both the Conservative and Progressive parties. Geruno was the true power behind the Federation.

The President’s anger vanished instantly. He calmed down. “You mean they’ve already acted?”

“Yes, Mr. President, it’s already done.”

The President felt humiliated. He was the country’s nominal leader, yet he couldn’t control it. Someone had gone around him to launch a military operation.

And this time it was only against criminal gangs—what if next time it was war?

Those capitalists had too much money. As long as they were willing to spend, they could always find people willing to fight for them.

“Why wasn’t I informed?” His mind was in chaos—he felt violated.

“They saw it as their business,” Truman replied. “They didn’t think you needed to be informed.”

Then Truman heard something break on the other end of the line. The President’s breathing had grown heavier.

“What if they decided to storm the presidential palace one day? Would we not be told then either?”

“Shut down Blackstone Security!” the President shouted, his voice nearly cracking.

The idea that capitalists had unilaterally carried out military action abroad truly terrified him. He instinctively wanted to cut off the source—shut down Blackstone, and maybe it would all go away.

“Mr. President, I’ll come to your office and explain everything in detail. When are you available?”

“Now.”

After hanging up, Truman hesitated a moment, then called Lynch. He believed Lynch should have informed him of this—after all, Lynch had a stake in the matter.

He couldn’t speak on Lynch’s behalf. If anything unexpected happened, it could devastate their entire group.

Soon, Lynch and Truman arrived at the presidential palace.

“What happened here?” Lynch asked curiously upon entering the President’s office, noting the workers repainting walls and moving furniture.

He remembered a grayish-white carpet that was now gone. A worker was patching a wall.

Truman recalled the sound of something breaking during the call—probably coffee.

“This place isn’t suitable right now. Let’s go inside.”

The President no longer looked as furious as he had on the phone. He didn’t appear angry at all.

Of course, that was a basic skill for any politician—emotions belonged deep inside, never on the surface.

The three of them entered a side room and closed the door behind them. Silence fell.

It’s said that even if artillery were fired directly at this room, nothing would happen in the short term. That’s why it’s known as the Safe Room.

In a cabinet in the corner, there’s enough food, fresh water, and emergency supplies.

No one knows whether anyone would actually shell Eminence, but clearly the suppliers of these goods believe it’s possible.

“Lynch, tell me—did you find those people and kill them?” the President asked, struggling to contain his emotions, eyes locked on Lynch.

It was rare to see the President so serious. He was usually all smiles. This was the first time Lynch had seen him with the gravity and authority befitting a president.

Of course, that kind of authority didn’t mean much in front of Lynch.

He nodded. “Of course. Mr. Geruno entrusted me with the task. Our company’s employees fulfilled the contract. It’s standard procedure—I don’t see a problem with it.”

“But your actions could spark a war, Lynch. Do you realize that?”

The President’s voice was quick and urgent. “This isn’t a game. Your people entered another country and killed their citizens. That can be seen as an act of aggression!”

“If this leads to war, you’ll be a national criminal, Lynch!”

Truman looked like he was about to speak, but Lynch raised a hand to stop him. “Mr. President, if we’re forced to be cautious and humble in the face of provocation from a weak nation, then we’re betraying the entire Federation.”

“It sets a terrible precedent internationally. Countries will start looting our businesspeople’s wealth, knowing we’re a weak Federation.”

“If we can’t even strike back when slapped in the face, we’ll get no respect.”

“You don’t respect a whore—because you know you can buy her. Spend enough, and you can even beat her with a whip.”

“It’s the same between nations. Giving ground doesn’t bring mutual compromise—it only leads to further pressure.”

“Resources and space are always limited. We must fight for them—and fighting brings conflict.”

“Gephra is a tiny country, yet look at what it’s become. Not because it preached morality all day. Civilization may be the foundation of glory, but force is the fire that ignites it, Mr. President.”

“And as for the nature of this matter—you don’t need to worry. If anything unexpected happens, Mr. Geruno and I will take full responsibility.”

With the conversation at that point, the President could only glare at him and begin to think.

“What do you plan to gain from Sugra through this incident?”

Lynch and Truman exchanged a glance. Truman replied, “There’s a disconnect between Sugra’s central and local governments. We can leverage that to gain certain benefits.”

“For example, we can demand open markets. Or lease land to build a military base.”

“We’ve got quite a few prospectors in Sugra’s mountains searching for gold. There’s been no gold found yet, but they have bauxite and copper—resources we need…”

The first image that flashed through the President’s mind was Nagaryll. Without a doubt, this place was about to become another Nagaryll.

He began seriously weighing the feasibility. After all, as Lynch said—those people were already dead. Debating whether this course of action was appropriate was pointless now.