Chapter Thirty

"If they take me away, you won't see a single penny of your salaries! But if the boss arrives, your wages and bonuses will double!"

Hearing Andrew's words, the four of them exchanged glances and held their ground against the pressure outside.

"Excuse me, could you please move aside?" Rogge already knew the consequences of revealing his identity as a wizard, so he considered resolving the issue through other means.

"Kid, go play somewhere else." Sophia, who had a badge pinned to her chest, waved her hand, signaling for Rogge not to approach.

"I'm here to see Andrew."

"Wait, looking for Andrew? Are you Andrew's son?" Alia looked over in surprise, reaching out as if to grab him.

"No, I am Andrew's boss." Rogge brushed her hand away and solemnly informed them of his status.

"You, Andrew's boss?" Ms. Sophia laughed. "Alright, little boss, could I ask you to go somewhere else? This is adult business; it’s not for you to get involved in."

"I wouldn't want to either, but Andrew has gotten himself into trouble." Rogge shrugged, his words making Sophia pause in thought.

"Since you can't break down the door, why don't you let me try? Perhaps if I just call out, he will welcome us in."

The adults around them were speechless, parting to let Rogge pass.

"Andrew, open the door."

"Don't even think—Mr. Rogge! Quick... quick, get away!" Andrew pushed past his bodyguards and rushed out hurriedly.

"Mr. Rogge, you’re finally here!" Andrew nearly knelt on the floor, gripping Rogge's hand tightly, his voice choked with sobs.

The bodyguards felt a sense of disappointment. They had assumed the visitor was some major player from the financial district, not just a little brat who had barely outgrown his diapers.

"It's alright, I'm here now." Rogge patted his shoulder, comforting him as one would a child.

The others stared blankly at the strange scene, wondering if their roles had been reversed.

"Rogge, what's so urgent that you needed me to come?" Thompson suddenly appeared in the corridor. The Muggles looked confused, wondering who he was and when he had arrived.

"Are you this child's guardian?" Sophia asked softly.

"No, no, no..." Thompson shook his head like a bobblehead, sternly refuting the suggestion.

"Thompson is my business partner. Since we're looking for Andrew, let's go inside to talk. The leaders come in, the others stay out," Rogge said with a firm tone, possessing an authority that brooked no argument.

"Let me introduce myself: Rogge Travis. Andrew is our family's asset manager. This is Thompson, an employee of... a large financial institution."

"Little... Rogge, I'm Sophia, from the NCA." Sophia searched her mind for major family funds, but none named Travis came to mind.

"NCA?" Rogge raised an eyebrow. "What is that an abbreviation for?"

"The National Crime Agency; we primarily combat major economic crimes," Sophia explained.

"Major economic crimes?" Rogge sat in the head seat and looked around the room. "So, you believe Mr. Andrew's financial trading activities are criminal?"

"Extracting billions in profit from a small amount of capital. We have reason to suspect cross-border criminal activity." Though Alia found their relationships strange, she didn't mind dragging the child back with them. "Please have Mr. Andrew return to the agency with us for questioning, and that includes you and Thompson, of course."

"Our team's operations are strictly legal and compliant. We can provide you with proof of transaction sources and fund flows..."

Rogge raised a hand to signal Andrew to be quiet. They were here to cause trouble, not to listen to his justifications.

"Rogge, should I..." Thompson raised his wand, but Rogge shook his head.

"And who might this lady be?"

"The UK representative for the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission."

"The U.S.?" Rogge frowned and looked at Andrew reproachfully. "Can you not even afford to hire a translator?"

"Hahaha..." The British people in the room burst into laughter. They looked down on American accents but couldn't afford to offend the Americans. Seeing someone openly and righteously mocking Alia made them feel quite satisfied.

"My time is valuable. Have your SEC send someone less... eccentric."

"Eccentric?" Alia stood up abruptly, not expecting this seemingly cute child to have such a venomous tongue.

The others in the room, all true-blue Brits, watched her with glee. Their gazes were full of ridicule and mockery, as if they wanted to plaster the word 'eccentric' right on her forehead.

"Just you wait!" Alia threw down a threat and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Americans always have such long reach. This is the financial district, not Wall Street. Though I doubt she would dare to be this arrogant and boorish on Wall Street, barking like a mad dog."

"Now then..." Rogge paused, asking curiously, "Why is it that you want to arrest the honest and diligent Mr. Andrew?"

"He belongs to a vulnerable group in society. Do you intend to drag an innocent citizen into a dark cell, submerge him in water, and force him to confess to a series of crimes? Then deliver a bullet to him so you can smuggle the money into your own pockets with a clear conscience?"

"Do you have the heart to do this?"

"Child, I think you've misunderstood..." Sophia tried to argue, but Rogge wouldn't let her continue.

"Misunderstood? Madam, then why are you here?"

"It's Alia... Andrew's betting amounts are quite large, causing trouble for others..."

"Others? Rothschild and Morgan?" Rogge had heard Andrew's cursing outside; he hadn't expected the other side of the bets to be them.

"These disgraceful capitalists!" In this financial district where capital never sleeps, he spoke for Andrew.

"I understand your regulatory duties, but please understand the plight of the average citizen. They feast on fine food, yet they resent us poor folks for even having a chicken leg," Rogge said earnestly. "Keep your eyes on the powerful and the officials who exploit legal loopholes, rather than constantly increasing the burden on us poor people."

"Poor people?" Everyone looked at each other.

Who in the financial district didn't know that Andrew was betting against the two major institutions and making a fortune? If he counted as poor, what did that make them?

"Andrew, since they don't want us to thrive, then go find Oppenheimer, Stanley... tell them to come and play for something big," Rogge said calmly. "Use all remaining funds to short the British pound. Send the damn pound to hell! Let the Prime Minister and his Chancellor of the Exchequer explain it to the voters!"

"Mr. Rogge, please calm down!" Sophia hurried to intervene. "We are only conducting a routine investigation; there is no need to go this far."

"A routine investigation? But I heard MI5 mentioned. Is their director a Soviet spy who graduated from Cambridge? Are you arresting people simply because they don't have faith in the Soviet Union?"

"That's MI6! We are MI5! We don't have Soviet spies!" The man standing by the door suddenly spoke up, startling everyone.

"Is that so? If you're so noble, why not go to Wall Street? That's the headquarters for shorting the Soviet Union. And are you sure this operation is compliant?" Rogge tapped the table, his tone overflowing with sarcasm.

They looked at one another; none of them dared to claim they were in full compliance. The only reason they had come was that Andrew, having no backing, had rejected the overtures of the financial sharks.

"If you think Andrew is helpless and without support, then let me tell you: he has the backing of the Travis family."