Jas’s forehead creased as he read the newest report from Germany.
"What is this!" he shouted at the man who had brought him the paper.
Jas snatched it out of his hand and shook it angrily.
"One paper. Only one?" he demanded, gesturing wildly with the sheet. He looked down again and read aloud: "New pension reform. New grenades for the Wehrmacht. So old fart died... What the hell? What about the rest? What about Jaeger, what about Heydrich, what about the others?"
"Sir, I am sorry. This is all our informants could gather. Jaeger and his group have been under the radar for the last three weeks. Our agents suddenly lost track of them sowhere in that tifra," the man said, bowing slightly as if bracing for a reprimand.
"They lost them? How can one of the most influential figures in the Wehrmacht suddenly vanish?!" Jas shouted, tearing the paper apart. "Do it again!"
"But sir, I..." the man stamred.
"I said do it again!" Jas roared, gesturing for him to leave the office.
Just what are you planning, Paul? Jas thought, sinking back into his leather chair and grabbing the newspaper lying sowhere on the thick desk.
The headline read: Theodore Carry — Mogul dead at 61.
"My poor father. He seed to have many health problems. It got increasingly worse in the last two years. How weird," Jas muttered, laughing loudly.
Now that I think about it... he suddenly thought as he stood up and opened his office door.
"Erik, co here!" Jas called.
A few monts later, a well dressed man entered the office.
"Good day, sir," he said.
"Good day, Erik," Jas replied, gesturing for him to sit.
"Thank you," Erik said, taking the seat.
"So, Erik, have you succeeded with the personal request I gave you?" Jas asked, smiling brightly.
Erik’s expression shifted for what felt like a millisecond, disgust, pure disdain, before snapping back to neutral."I have. The will was swapped. Your family’s lawyer should proclaim it at the funeral..."
"Great, great. Good job, Erik. You are a man one can trust," Jas said, his mood overly enthusiastic.
"There is sothing else I have to report, sir..." Erik began.
"Sothing else concerning the private matter?" Jas asked, sitting down again.
"No. The German spy you asked us to track. Gimpel..." Erik said. "He has deviated from his normal routine. It could be sothing random..."
"I do not believe in coincidences, Erik. I want a full report on this matter later in the evening," Jas said, his tone snapping back to disciplined and cold.
Erik sighed slightly and left the office with his shoulders slumped.
Jas left soon after, a black limousine picking him up. He whispered sothing to the driver, who imdiately turned the car, speeding through the busy streets of New York.
Crossing the famous Brooklyn Bridge, Jas’s gaze drifted toward the large harbor in the distance. His eyes were deep with thought.
After another half hour, the limousine stopped in front of a gate.
The tal sign read: Green-Wood Cetery.
Jas exited the car, his tall driver following him closely. Both n wore pure black suits. Jas even put on sunglasses, hiding his eyes from the intense sun.
The two walked silently through the graveyard until they reached a large group of people, many already seated.
Jas moved toward them, receiving several glances, most of them unfriendly. Many guests turned to see what the sudden commotion was about.
Jas ignored all of his so-called relatives and chose a seat at the very back. His driver remained standing behind him while Jas crossed his legs, leaning back into the wooden chair.
After a few minutes, a man stepped forward. A priest leading the funeral.
"Thank you for coming today, to bid farewell to this poor soul, to God’s child..." the priest began.
Jas did not listen to a single word. His attention was fixed on sothing else. A man sitting in the middle of the group.
The man turned slightly, feeling the intense gaze on him, but when he recognized who was staring, he quickly looked away again.
Jas sighed and leaned back in his chair, enduring the long speeches.
All pure nonsense, he thought.Empty phrases ant to comfort themselves rather than those truly hurt.
When the final speaker finished, the coffin was lowered into the ground and three n stood up from the first row.
My brothers, Jas thought, amused.
He remained seated, earning several strange looks, though no one seed brave enough to say anything.
The brothers picked up the shovels and threw the first patches of dirt into the grave, slowly but steadily filling it. So guests helped until the hole was completely covered. The shovels were laid aside.
Most guests were already leaving, emptying the seats row by row. Only a few core family mbers and Jas’s brothers stayed behind, the latter still talking to the priest.
Jas rose and walked toward the man who stood out among all the others. He was no family mber. He was the man Jas had been watching the entire funeral. The family lawyer.
"Reginald," Jas called.
"Oh, Mister Carry," Reginald answered, turning toward him. "I am sorry for your loss."
"Yes, yes, thank you," Jas replied, impatiently.
"Reginald, you know what?" Jas asked.
"What?" Reginald replied.
"Let’s cut the nonsense," Jas said, stepping closer. "Where is the will?"
"I... I have it with , but I assud we could hold a family eting and go through it together," he murmured, lowering his head.
"What is this if not a family eting? Tell us now," Jas said, grabbing the lawyer’s chin and forcing his head back up.
Before Reginald could answer, a hand fell on Jas’s shoulder.
"Jas, what are you doing?" his brother Thomas asked, anger burning in his eyes.
"What does it look like? I am talking to our family lawyer. I am still part of this family, am I not?" Jas asked provocatively.
Thomas did not answer. He only shook his head.
"Go on, Reginald. Let’s wipe that smile off his face," Thomas said.
Reginald sighed, his hands trembling slightly as he took out an envelope. He broke the Carry family seal, deliberately, under the eager gaze of everyone around.
"I, Theodore Wilhelm Carry, declare that upon my passing, my company, Carry Railroads, and all its assets, shall go to my son Jas Carry."
Everyone’s eyes widened, but no one dared interrupt. Whether out of shock or respect was unclear.
"Carry Machinery and all its assets, I leave to my son Jas Carry."
"Carry Hotels and all its assets, I leave in their entirety to Jas Carry."
"..."
"All my property and real estate, including the family mansion, I leave in full to Jas Carry."
Silence hung heavy in the air, until it shattered with a shout.
"You son of a bitch! What have you done?!" Thomas roared, lunging at his brother.
Before he could reach Jas, a large hand clamped around his throat. It was Jas’s driver.
"Let... ... go," Thomas choked, his face reddening.
The driver glanced at Jas, who gave a small nod.
Jas snatched the will from Reginald before the lawyer could even react.
"Seems our old man had a favorite child," Jas said, mocking them. Their faces twisted with disgust, their fists clenched, yet still too weak to strike.
Either you strike now or never. Because tomorrow I will be the richest man on the entire East Coast. Tomorrow I will be invincible, Jas thought, turning his back on them and walking away in triumph.
Yet he gave no order to return ho, no command to be driven back to his office. Instead, Jas’s car glided slowly across the docks of the New York harbour, drawn by the sudden call of an old friend.
He stepped out of the vehicle and straightened his suit. In the glow of the headlights, a lone silhouette awaited him.
He moved closer, studying the figure with a careful gaze.
"You asked for , Klausemann?" Jas asked.
"Yes. We have a problem," Klausemann answered, stepping out of the blinding light and revealing himself completely. He adjusted his glasses with a slow, deliberate motion before continuing. "Soone has been poking around."
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