Thierry Morlif, an Irish-American, was a detective at the New York Police Department's 72nd Precinct on Fourth Avenue before being fired from the police for accepting bribes and drinking too much. According to Reuben, this guy sent money to the people above him, so after being fired from the police department, he went straight to the docks, and a year later, he was elected head of the union.

The place where Morlifu works, in a dilapidated tin house at the ferry port on the south hill of the wharf, is very inconspicuous.

Adel met Morif for the first time in this tin house, well, how to say, the first time he saw Morlif, Adel made a judgment in his heart: this man is a waste, a complete waste. Indeed, I believe that anyone who sees Morrif can have the deepest understanding of the word decadence.

However, Molif, who is only in his forties, looks like a 60-year-old man, his body is obese, his face is swollen, his eye sockets are swollen, his nose is blood-red, his two fat lips seem to never be together, and the corners of his mouth are always water-stained, shiny, making people feel like his harazi can stay at any time. Of course, the most conspicuous thing is his messy hair, gray-white hair, some standing upright, some lying on their stomachs, some still curly, as long as you get a little closer, you can see dense dandruff stuck in the hair.

Adel felt that when he was a tramp, his image was estimated to be better than that of Morliv in front of him.

The small tin house of less than 20 square meters is filled with an unpleasant smell of alcohol, which is even mixed with some sour and sour smell, as if someone has vomited in the house but has not cleaned it up, which is very disgusting.

A tattered, dirt-stained desk sits in the middle of a room littered with waste paper, and directly above the desk, on the ceiling, hangs a huge fan, which sways and spins, making a chilling creak, and the waste paper on the floor is swept away by the wind.

Fat Molliff sat behind the desk, a cigar in his left hand and a wine glass in his right.

"What do you say your name is?" Bloodshot eyes stared at Adair for a long time before Morrif put down his glass, scratched the nail of his right middle finger on his head, and asked.

"Adele, Adel Conlando," Adel said with a smile on his face, holding back his nausea.

"Irish?" Morleif asked tentatively, rolling his eyes.

"That's right, Sligo of Ireland," Adel said with a smile.

"Oh, then we're fellow countrymen," said Morle, his eyes wide and looking Adel up and down, "I'm from Coloney, and when I was very young, I was to Sligo. It's a small town in Sligo Bay, and there's a ranch called Mudkore......"

"Mudker Farm?" Adel pretended to be a memory, and pondered for a moment before saying, "That's Ballysadelle, and there's a small lake on the east side of the ranch......"

"There's an arbour cheese shop by the lake, and the cheese there's all over Connaught," said Moriff's eyes, which were full of confusion, but his tone was excited, and it was clear that he had fallen into some kind of second-by-second memory.

"I'm already thirty ......" After a moment of excitement, Morlif's mood fell, and he counted with his fingers crossed, "Thirty-seven...... No, maybe thirty-eight years, yes, I haven't been back in thirty-eight years, and I miss that damn arbor cheese, and every day when I wake up, I seem to feel the sweetness in my mouth. ”

"Then you really should go back and see, there's a lot of change there," Adel said with a smile.

"Maybe, but, fuck it, who's going to care about it," because of his long-term alcoholism, Morlif's temperament was a little uncertain, he seemed to suddenly get angry again, looked at Adele, and said irritably, "However, it can be determined that you are really my countryman, for the sake of my countryman, I can arrange a job for you, the salary will not be very high, but ......"

Who the is a fellow drunkard like you, Adel said disdainfully, like this information, it was all Ruben told him, because every time Morliv drank too much, he would talk a lot about his hometown, so, like this, the people on the dock basically all knew.

"No, no, Mr. Morrity, you misunderstood, I'm not here looking for a job," Adel said, waving his hand, "I want to talk to you about a business, a business that will make you a sure job." ”

"Oh, a sure-fire business? I like this kind of business," said Morlif, taking a puff of his cigar, exhaling his smoke, sniffing the sweet scent, mockingly, "and I usually have someone sink him to the bottom of the river when he comes to me for this kind of business, but since you are my countryman, I don't mind hearing you talk about it." ”

This guy has a shrewd philosophy of life, Adair smiled and said, "That's right, Mr. Morlif, I run a stockbroking company that has just opened, so I need a group of investors. ”

"What does this have to do with me?" Morrif burped and said absentmindedly, "I'm not interested in investing in stocks, and I don't have that much money to spare." ”

"No, no, you don't need money, instead, I'll give you money," Adair said.

"How?" Morrif asked curiously, blinking.

"$20 for an account, that's my condition," Adair said, "specifically, if you open an account with a real and valid Social Security number, open an account with a bank that I designate, and I'll pay you $20." ”

"Is there such a good thing?" Morif was a little skeptical, he didn't think there was such a thing as pie-in-the-sky in this world.

"Of course, I can vouch for my credibility," Adel smiled, in fact, where did he get his credibility.

"You mean that I can pay me $20 if I open an account with my Social Security number in the bank of your choice?" Morif asked, staring at Adele.

"No, no, no, one Social Security number, you can only open one account," Adair said, shaking his head.

"Isn't that only $20?" Morif said angrily.

"Mr. Morrity, if it's just you, then this business is really not interesting, but," Adel said with a deep smile, "you have a union in your hand, can't you get the social security numbers of union members?" ”

"Someone else's, too?" Morif blinked, and immediately became interested in the matter.

As the head of the trade union, he certainly holds the social security numbers of the trade union members, which is equivalent to an ID card, which is the most direct evidence to distinguish the union members.

"Anyone's will," Adair said, "but, since I've only been in contact with you, I'll only end up with you, and how you distribute it is not something I need to care about." ”

Morif was a little uneasy, he put down the cigar in his hand, reached for the union roster on the table, and counted the number.

At present, there are 436 registered union members in the entire dock union, and if you pay $20 per person, that is nearly $10,000, which is equivalent to three months of union membership dues. And the monthly membership fee paid by the member is not only held by him alone, he also needs to share the profit, but this money is completely his own.

Such a good thing can really fall on his head, Morif is a little unsure, he thinks that Adel must be hiding some conspiracy, but he thinks about it repeatedly, but he can't think of what the conspiracy is.

In the United States today, Social Security numbers can be used for many purposes, but they are of little use if they are not for receiving benefits, going abroad, or looking for a job, and Morrif doesn't think he's going to get in trouble by selling his workers' Social Security accounts.

"Can I understand that these are the Social Security numbers you need?" Morif racked his brains for a while, and after making sure that he couldn't think of any scam, he said, "Then if I give you this list now, you can pay me the money right away?" ”

"That's not the case, Mr. Morlif, we still need to go through a procedure, and that is that you also need to arrange for your workers to sign an account opening contract before you can get the money." Adair said.

"Does it have to be the owner of the security number to sign it?" Morleff asked with a frown.

"In principle, it has to be like this, after all, we need to get permission from the person who opened the account," Adair nodded and said.

"In principle, so? That is, we don't need to do things exactly according to the principles? Morrif said in understanding.

Adel didn't speak, just laughed.

"Well, Mr. Adair," said Morle, tilting his head in thought, and with an impatient expression, he pushed the roster in his hand in the direction of Adair, "and if you want any help from me, then you must do what I say." It's summer, and it's the peak season for the dock, and my workers are busy every day and don't have that much free time to do this and do that, so, you see, here's the roster of dock workers, which is 436 people in total, and also 436 social security numbers. Now, you can choose to take it away and pay me ...... at the same time"

Morrif looked around, found a pen, counted it on the table, and then continued: "Pay me eight thousand seven hundred dollars, and I will give you the rest of the odds, of course, you can go out of me empty-handed, as if you never came." ”

"This ...... You have made it difficult for me, Mr. Morrity," said Adelle, with a bitter face.