Chicago at night was bustling with activity.
After half a year, with the war nearing its end, various domestic controls in the United States had gradually been relaxed, and society as a whole was becoming increasingly prosperous.
Chicago today was even livelier than when Josh transmigrated last year.
There were more nightclubs than the year before.
The "Happy Zone" nightclub was one of them—and the largest.
It was said that the boss behind it was a big shot from New York.
Because it was upscale enough, those who frequented it were mostly Chicago's upper class, including quite a few top-tier figures.
For instance, key members of Chicago's financial families like the Leibler, McCormick, Armour, Wood, and Crown families.
Or high-level executives from major corporations like Boeing, Chrysler, and Curtiss—all of which had numerous subsidiary factories around Chicago.
A luxurious Cadillac V16 slowly came to a halt at the nightclub entrance, and Josh stepped out of the car.
This V16 was actually the one Josh had hijacked last year and driven around Paris. It had now been repainted and fully refurbished.
Josh was no longer the same man he used to be—something like a car was no longer anything to be concerned about.
Besides, the original owner of this V16—Scarpa of the Moretti Mafia family—had been long dead, killed during a gang conflict a few months ago.
In fact, with Germany and Hydra thoroughly defeated, those American factories previously focused on tank production had begun to shift back to making cars.
Although the war in Asia and with the "chopstick country" wasn't over yet...demand for tanks there was too low to sustain America's vast industrial system.
So, technically speaking, Josh could've bought a better car but he didn't.
Not because he was stingy, but because he simply no longer had much regard for American-made cars of this era.
Once the division of Europe was finalized, Josh planned to enter the automobile industry himself.
At most, it would take less than a year before he could drive a car manufactured by his own company.
So this V16, which held some commemorative value, if not shown off now, would soon just sit in his collection room as a display piece.
Getting out of the car, Josh looked at the nightclub's luxurious facade with a slightly odd expression.
This was the very nightclub run by Wilfred Malick, and Josh was here at his invitation.
Moreover, the Malick family was indeed the major shareholder of this nightclub.
It was only after receiving the invitation and asking Dix to gather intel on the Happy Zone that Josh found out—the place also had his own people inside...More precisely, members of the Blackwater Gang, which made sense.
Chicago—and all of Illinois, really—was Blackwater's home turf.
For an industry as gray as nightclubs, no matter how powerful your backing, you couldn't suppress the local snake—you had to pay respects first.
So not only the Happy Zone, but most of Chicago's major nightclubs bore traces of Blackwater's influence.
Josh hadn't paid attention to this industry before, considering it low-profit and low-profile. And since Blackwater's business focus wasn't here either, Dix stopped reporting on it after realizing Josh didn't care.
But after his time in Europe, Josh realized the flaw in his earlier thinking.
Yes, nightclubs were marginal and unglamorous compared to highly lucrative industries. But they were excellent sources of intelligence and venues for networking.
The saying "men's three iron bonds" wasn't without its truths.
Josh might still look down on this kind of business, but having none of it at all clearly wasn't right either.
Thankfully, his realization came in time—Blackwater had already, imperceptibly, infiltrated many of these related industries.
Especially now, with Dix investing a significant portion of Blackwater's resources into Las Vegas.
"Boss?" Seeing Josh standing at the entrance in a daze, Vito behind him couldn't help but speak up.
Snapping out of it, Josh nodded and walked into the nightclub under the doorman's enthusiastic welcome. Another bodyguard beside Vito handed over a tip at the right moment.
As they passed through the heavy doors and entered the nightclub interior, the atmosphere changed instantly.
Outside was a biting cold wind, while inside was cozy and warm—it was clear the heating and insulation here were excellent.
But what was even hotter was the line of scantily clad beauties on either side of the hallway, all greeting Josh's group in unison.
Very good. Very powerful.
The scene was such that any more detail would summon the almighty censors.
Fortunately, having entertained generals and officers in Europe, Josh and his companions had seen worse and didn't lose their composure.
Josh simply glanced around, picked the most pleasing one to the eye, took her arm, and continued walking inside.
Naturally, he had no interest in such women—it was just a matter of blending in. Otherwise, three grown men walking around a place like this alone would look awkward.
He definitely didn't want Paris-style rumors circulating in Chicago.
"Mr. Josh Kane?" Not long after entering a hall, a gorgeous woman wearing only minimal clothing approached and called Josh by name.
"That's me." Josh nodded.
"I'm Velma. Mr. Malick has been waiting for you. Please follow me~" The woman gestured toward a door on the side of the hall.
Josh nodded again, and under her lead, the three of them entered a large private room. On the long sofa inside sat a middle-aged man with a full beard, flanked by a few distant bodyguards.
There was no doubt—this bearded man was Wilfred Malick.
"Hey! Mr. Kane, finally you're here. Please, have a seat!" Malick greeted enthusiastically as Josh entered and gestured for him to sit.
"I've heard much about you too, Mr. Malick!" Josh sat down confidently across from him, smiling.
"Hahaha, just a bit of a reputation, nothing much. Compared to Mr. Kane, I'm like a minor wizard before a great one." Malick didn't ask how Josh knew who he was—his family was famous, and his identity was on the invitation. Without some clout, Josh wouldn't have accepted it—big shots like him weren't that easy to meet.
His flattery wasn't false modesty either.
Josh was now very famous in America.
The military had been promoting the victory in Europe, especially the Eagle's Nest operation, where Josh's name was also mentioned.
Compared to his occasional newspaper appearances for war bonds, Josh had now officially entered the ranks of high-profile elites.
Even Roosevelt knew of Josh now.
This was precisely why Hydra had delayed contacting Josh—they had been analyzing his behavior to determine whether to approach.
Had Josh been a true diehard anti-fascist, Hydra wouldn't have been dumb enough to make contact—they'd have simply waited for an opportunity to eliminate a potential threat, like they planned to do in Project Insight in the future.
But based on intelligence from Europe, Josh wasn't quite what the official propaganda made him out to be.
Despite Schmidt's betrayal causing a rift between European and American Hydra factions, the Council of Nine still had plenty of influence in Europe.
After all, Hydra originated not in Germany, but in Britain.
And like Britain, they always liked to meddle in everything.
So when Josh secretly absorbed many of Schmidt's former forces, the Council of Nine was well aware.
Naturally, they wanted to figure out Josh's true intentions.
"No need for flattery, Mr. Malick. I doubt you invited me here just for fun. Let's get down to business," Josh said, waving off the compliments with a smile.
"You're a straight talker—great! Then I won't waste time either. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Chadwick to ask about Ms. Whitney Frost...After all, she was his fiancée."
"Didn't DreamWorks' announcement and the military's statement already make things clear? Ms. Whitney died in an unfortunate accident while taking a walk and stepping on an unexploded bomb," Josh replied without lifting an eyelid.
"Heh, Mr. Kane, surely it's not that simple? From what I hear, Whitney was briefly detained over a stolen intel case while in London. Just days after being released, she steps on a bomb? Isn't that a bit too coincidental?" Malick smiled slightly, trying to press further about Whitney to probe Josh.
But Josh had no intention of continuing the back-and-forth.
"Heh, whether it was coincidental or not, I think you know better than me, don't you, Mr. Malick? Whitney may be dead, but the Night Light Serum—that's in your hands now, isn't it?" Josh replied with a slight smile.
"Mr. Kane, I don't understand what you mean," Malick's face darkened.
"Hail Hydra!" Josh tossed a badge engraved with the Hydra insignia onto the table in front of Malick, ignoring the stunned looks from him and the others, and casually uttered Hydra's supreme motto.
After all, today, no one but Josh's trio and Malick would be walking out of that room alive—Josh had nothing to fear.
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