Chapter 4
I made the trip back to New York City by train. I spent a few days there looking around, taking in the atmosphere of 1892 in NYC. I decided to go see a show. I went to see one, but was a little disappointed. I guess it was because from my vantage point of a little more than a hundred years in the future, it seemed a bit antiquated and unsophisticated. Still, I did enjoy the experience, over all.
I did use my special abilities to move forward through time, then use modern transport to move through space, and then go back into the past again. I got tired of traveling 'native style'. Taking the steam train long distances soon loses its novelty. After the first couple of hundred miles, and days of traveling, it gets very boring.
I eventually found myself in the Midwest. I had also gone back a bit farther in time. I was now in the year 1875. What the hell, if I was going to travel, and have time traveling ability, I might as well use all my resources.
For some reason, I noticed that farmers were having trouble getting their crops out to market. It was pretty splotchy, but I recognized an attempt at market control when I saw it. Since I was nosy and had funds, I decided to stick my two cents worth in.
I was in a small town in Iowa, of all places, when I back timed a few weeks. I rented the largest warehouse prior to the arrival of the goon squad. Yes, I watched as they had arrived, and bought up space.
I was sitting in my makeshift office in the warehouse, when a visitor was announced. I was pretty sure what this was going to be. A thinly veiled warning, or a direct threat. Thugs were the same in all the times I had visited, so far.
My office door opened. It was not much of an office to tell you the truth. A plain wooden desk, and a swivel chair were the only things even partially comfortable. A filing cabinet that was old had the three drawers, and a tendency to stick when I tried to open them. Still, I had a lot of corn and vegetables already purchased, and some was even stored.
"Are you Mr. Wilson?" asked the first guy. I was using an assumed name.
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you?" I asked with pretended interest.
The man who spoke to me was tall, well muscled and dressed in a good suit. The two guys flanking him were muscle, and dressed roughly.
"Mr. Wilson, we have gone to a lot of trouble to get these farmers to sell to us at a reasonable price, and you have come in here, a late comer, and ruined a very good profit for me," the tall well dressed man said.
"And you would be?" I asked, still mildly.
"You may call me Mr. Smith. I am with a small consortium that is establishing itself and you are rocking the boat so to speak," he replied.
"Well, this is America, and business is business, after all," I said shrugging.
"Mr. Wilson, I am going to give you an option. You can either sell to me at my price, or I shudder to think of what will happen," the so-called Mr. Smith said with exaggeration.
I raised an eyebrow at him. It was amusing really. I carefully considered my next words, as I didn't really want to start a fight, but I wanted him to know I was not intimidated at all.
"Well, Mr. Smith, I will give your offer the consideration it deserves. I'll give you an answer in a few days. I am sure we can come to an agreement that will let me have a profit and make you and your consortium happy," I replied with a serious look on my face.
"Mr. Wilson. I am afraid you don't understand your position. We are not dickering. We spent a goodly amount of money, time, and effort to set things up a particular way, and you came in here and totally undermined our position. I will make you an offer, it then falls to you to take it, or get out of town," Smith said menacingly.
I sighed. "Well, if it is reasonable I might consider it. However, bullying or intimidation tactics do not impress me. Make your offer and get out," I finished, snapping at him.
He smiled thinly and offered me a price that was well below current offering prices by the mainstream buyers. I snorted at him and informed him this was not acceptable. He regretted that his two associates would speak to me at length, and he would wait outside to ensure we were not disturbed.
Frik and Frak started moving around the sides of my desk, one from the left and one from the right, trying to box and trap me, while Mr. Smith went out the door. I am glad I still did my regimen of stretching exercise in the mornings.
I got up, and turned to my left. Since that guy was close, I placed my right hand on the desk and used my arm as a lever while jumping into the air. I was now horizontal to the desk my feet lashing out, met the thug with the heel of my work shoes.
I did not watch the guy I had just kicked go flying backwards. As my feet came back down to the floor, I swiveled in time to dodge a punch from his partner. It was a punch that would have taken my head off if it had landed.
I snapped my flattened (2nd knuckle) fist out, and caught him in the throat. He stopped and started gasping for air. Ok, he was out of it, I turned back to the first guy I had sent thudding into the wall opposite, and he was getting to his feet.
I moved towards him, and he put his head down and charged me, with his arms held wide apart, to make sure I didn't get away. I dove over him. He was not tall, bent over the way he was. I got to my feet, and turned quickly.
He was still recovering from tangling with the chair. My not being there had thrown off his timing. I moved forward a couple steps, turned sideways and lashed out at the back of his knee.
He fell, going down to one knee. I stepped back one pace, and whirled. The solid heel of my other shoe swept in an arc that met his jaw. His head snapped violently to the side. He blinked momentarily at me. Then he fell over, unconscious.
His partner was still busy gasping for air. Elapsed time? Maybe a total of ten to fifteen seconds since Mr. Smith left the room. I walked calmly to the door, running my hand through my hair to make sure it was still in place, and opened it.
Mr. Smith turned, and looked at me in surprise.
"Ah, your friends seemed to have hurt themselves somehow. Perhaps you should assist them to a doctor to make sure they are all right?" I asked with a look of false concern.
Silently, Smith came into my office and looked at his two muscle men. One was still on the ground, stunned from my kick to his jaw, the other was finally getting control of his breathing.
Together, the two who were standing helped the groggy one to his feet, and out the door. Well, so much for the diplomatic approach. I figured I had a day at least, before they tried anything more direct.
I didn't even try to see if the railroad had rail cars handy for shipping. If these guys followed their schedule, they had already taken steps to ensure that no rail cars would be available to anyone in this area, other than themselves.
In the meantime, more farmers were rolling in with wagons filled with corn. While I did have trouble getting some workers, there were always kids, and teens anxious to earn some money. I had all the unskilled labor I could want.
We transferred the wagons of corn into wooden crates. I'd had them made elsewhen, and then brought them here via the 'between'. My shipping costs were negligible to say the least. Around six that evening, I called a halt. The last wagon had been unloaded and the farmers were headed back to their homes.
I didn't just concentrate on corn though. I had spread the word that I was buying bulk bushels of potatoes, beans, tomatoes, onions, basically any vegetable that farmers had in abundance, I was buying.
After I paid off my day labor, I went inside and locked the doors. It was now dusk, and while most of the food stuffs I had bought were loaded into the proper crates, they still needed to be stored. Of course, I had no plans on shipping this load anywhere except to the 'between', for storage. It would be handy to have an abundance of food stored for future use if I ever needed it.
I quickly cleaned up the piles of crates that had been placed just inside the huge doors of the loading dock. I simply moved all loaded crates and bushel baskets that were full of corn and veggies to the 'between.'
As I was hungry, I cleaned up and went to a small restaurant that did a fairly brisk business. I had been surprised that they actually had a restaurant to begin with, but when you considered it was attached to the only hotel in town, it was easy to understand.
After my evening meal, I went out and found a quiet place, and 'time dived' back a few hours. I followed my erstwhile thugs, and listened to the plans that Mr. Smith was making concerning my future. They were bleak to say the least.
I went back to my room and thought. Suddenly I started chuckling to myself. What a plan! I laughed out loud. This was going to be good. I was going to approach Mr. Smith tomorrow with a counter offer, an offer I was sure he would accept. I was going to teach Mr. Smith how it felt to be fleeced! I laughed and made ready for bed.
The next day, I rose and went down to the restaurant for breakfast. I was in a good mood. Whom did I run into? None other person than Smith, eating his breakfast. I waved and walked over, dropping uninvited into a chair on the opposite side of his table.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Smith. I hope your men are doing all right?" I asked, my voice dripping with fake concern.
"Mr. Wilson, I am eating my breakfast and I didn't invite you to sit. Unless there is something else that we have to discuss, I suggest you take your leave to one of the other tables," he responded a bit grimly.
"Now, now, Smith. Is that anyway to talk to the man about to do you a favor? Listen. I know your plans to do me bodily harm. I know this evening when I close and lock up; I am to be ambushed, and killed. It will look like one robbery among many. You even made sure to tell your men to turn my pockets inside out to leave that impression," I said, then launched into his plan in detail.
He blanched and stared at me. He had to be wondering which of his men informed me of the plan, for me to know it so well.
"While you may have "connections" back east that are pressuring the large companies to leave this area to you, I have my own connections. I neither fear you, nor your "connections" to the group you are representing.
"I have my own ways of getting information, and all your people are being watched even as we speak. One unwise move towards me will see you, and them, taken care of. And not in a way you will appreciate.
"So here is what I will do. Pay me for my purchase to date, say as of five PM this evening. You can post men around the warehouse to see that I am not shipping anything out if you like."
I then named a number that while higher than that he had offered me, would still make him a fairly good profit. He thought it over, and agreed.
"Very well, meet me at the bank at noon, and we will transfer funds there. At five this evening, whatever is in the warehouse becomes your property for this amount. Agreed?" I asked in a genial voice.
He nodded again, and I knew he was wondering what had changed. Well, what changed, was my plan. I would make my money back on what I had already purchased, but I was not going to leave him much in the way of product!
I was only scheduled to take three cargoes today. That would be the end. The last cargo should be unloaded by no later than 3:30 this afternoon. We shook hands, and I went to my table.
Oh, I planned to leave him something. One crate or basket of everything. After all, it was only fair, wasn't it?
The plan went off pretty much as I expected. After the last wagon was unloaded and I had everything inside, I started moving everything I could into the 'between'. I did wind up leaving more behind than I had originally planned. It was getting harder and harder to move the produce, and I was developing a splitting headache.
As it stood, I did leave him more product that I had at first planned. Yet still, he wound up over-paying outrageously for the little he received! I got the money out of the bank he had paid me, as well as my own, and left town on the 4:15 PM evening train. As soon as I could, I would get back to my own time, but I was exhausted. I did not think I had the energy available to make the jump back to my time from there.
Also, my head was killing me. I didn't have the will even to try a time-jump. Not while I was in this much pain.
Edited by TeNderLoin