Aviation

Old Hosea, his jaw hanging slightly agape, finally found his voice. "A hundred thousand dollars! Oh, Dutch, that's… that's a hundred thousand dollars! We haven't earned that much in years! That's enough to feed three hundred families for an entire year, and you just… you just gave it away?! Oh, Dutch, what in heaven's name is this grand plan for?!" He looked like a man who'd just seen his favorite dog spontaneously combust.

"Oh, blast it all!" Arthur muttered under his breath, shaking his head in bewildered awe. "A hundred thousand dollars… I've never seen so much money in my whole life." He didn't interrupt Dutch, though his mind was a whirlwind of questions. He had no earthly idea what possessed Dutch to throw a hundred thousand dollars at a pair of brothers who wanted to make people fly, but he knew Dutch always had a plan. Besides, they were bloody millionaires now, so if Dutch wanted to splurge a hundred thousand, who was Arthur to stop him?

"Oh!" "A hundred thousand dollars!" The exclamations rippled through the room, a collective gasp of astonishment from the other gang members. A hundred thousand dollars in their previous lives would have been enough to buy their very lives, many times over. This truly astronomical expenditure was simply beyond their comprehension.

"Yes, a hundred thousand dollars!" Dutch reiterated, his voice unwavering, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he surveyed their bewildered faces. "Hosea, trust my plan! Old man, since we came down from that godforsaken snowy mountain until this very moment, has my plan ever had a single, solitary mistake, hmm? No! And besides, the franchise fees for the clothing store have already swelled to a magnificent six hundred thousand dollars in just the past two days alone! And our clothing store, my friends, is earning us a steady, magnificent stream of money at a truly money-grabbing speed! So, what possible harm is there in spending this meager hundred thousand dollars?"

Dutch spread his hands, a gesture of almost parental resignation. "In reality, not only will the Wright Brothers' audacious endeavors require substantial expenditure, but Marko and Randy's groundbreaking machine research will also demand a considerable sum. But so what? These, my dear comrades, are necessary expenditures! Now we spend a hundred thousand dollars, and that hundred thousand dollars will, I promise you, bring us millions! Yes, millions! Even tens of millions, in future profit! Oh, come now, my dear gang, you simply cannot keep your eyes fixated on mere piles of cash!

This money, if simply hoarded, is nothing more than waste paper! Only by spending it, by investing it wisely, can it truly generate income, can it truly serve our glorious purpose!"

Dutch couldn't help but sigh, a helpless little puff of air. The Van der Linde Gang, despite their recent meteoric rise, were still, at heart, a small, rather parochial gang. It was only natural for them to be reluctant to part with large sums of money, even if they now possessed it in abundance.

However, the Van der Linde Gang members possessed one profound, unifying advantage: they all, to a man, listened to Dutch. Whatever Dutch said, however outlandish, was always, unequivocally, the absolute truth.

Listening to Dutch's passionate, persuasive narration, Hosea finally nodded, a flicker of understanding replacing his earlier bewilderment. "Alright, Dutch, you're right. Money saved is just money; only by spending it can it truly transform into something greater."

"Precisely, Hosea!" Dutch affirmed, his face lighting up with renewed fervor. "If we simply hide this six hundred thousand dollars beneath a mattress, it's just a pile of waste paper. But if we use it to build bunkers, Hosea? Our bunkers will spread across the entire area of Valentine! They will fortify our position, impenetrable and formidable! That, old friend, is the glorious difference!" Dutch spread his hands wide, his face radiating an almost messianic anticipation for the future.

"Alright, everyone. We still have subsequent arrangements to make. To establish an arms company on Guarma, we need not only relevant machinery and equipment, but also a tireless workforce and abundant resources. This is a monumental undertaking!"

"Mac," Dutch's gaze landed on his loyal enforcer, "you'll work with Hosea during this period, responsible for protecting his safety. When you go out, take a few more gunmen. Damn it, the public order in New Hanover is truly infuriating, a constant thorn in my side. To ensure our safety, I hope, Hosea, you can begin constructing a network of bunkers around Valentine. I'll provide you with the detailed bunker locations later. We need to leverage the advantage of these fortifications to gradually occupy the entire wilderness of New Hanover, utterly wipe out those damned Murfree Brood and the lingering remnants of the O'Driscoll Gang! We will seize complete control of all of New Hanover, creating a truly safe, suitable living environment for our workers and our people, and simultaneously laying a solid, unshakeable foundation for our subsequent resource extraction!"

Dutch looked at Hosea, his eyes gleaming with a fierce resolve. This plan, he mused, had been conceived in the direct aftermath of that infuriating ambush by the Murfree Brood during their last trip to Van Horn Trading Post.

"These damned savages," Dutch's voice dropped, laced with a chilling intensity, "do not deserve to infest this land, a land that is inexorably marching towards civilization! We vanquished those other damned gangs and painstakingly forged a suitable living environment, not for them to come and destroy it! They must perish under our guns, and repent to God for their barbaric crimes!" His eyes were alight with a cold, righteous fury.

Dutch, ever the student of history and strategy, envisioned a grand, modern military doctrine. Just as World War II would later witness the devastating effectiveness of combined arms combat – infantry and tanks working in concert – so too did Mr. Dutch Van der Linde conceive of a corresponding combined arms occupation plan: infantry and fortifications.

When his formidable Dutch's bunkers dotted every strategic corner of New Hanover, he, Dutch Van der Linde, would be the undisputed, unchallengeable king of New Hanover! At that glorious moment, he would then make his audacious bid for Governor of New Hanover, thereby fully, legitimately entrenching himself as the supreme ruler of the state.

Valentine had already been meticulously transformed into his impregnable base. The next logical target, the next domino in his grand design, was, naturally, the entire sprawling territory of New Hanover. Dutch's thoughts reeled back from his ambitious contemplation, though it was only for a second or two.

Then his gaze settled on Kieran, Sean, and Lenny, who were standing nearby, their faces eager.

"Sean, Lenny, and Kieran!" Dutch announced, his voice carrying an undeniable authority. "The three of you will assume Mr. Trelawny's duties; the Veteran Club will be handed over to your capable hands from this moment forth. You must ensure the smooth, efficient operation of the Veteran Club and recruit more gunmen and workers! Our current team, my friends, is still far too small; a base of only a thousand people is, quite frankly, laughably weak for our ambitions!"

"Okay, Dutch! You got it!" Sean nodded vigorously, his face splitting into a wide, excited grin. This kid, Dutch knew, loved to talk, to schmooze. Using him to mingle with those gruff veterans was a match made in heaven, perfectly filling the void left by Mr. Trelawny's temporary departure.

"Very good, Sean! Keep up that magnificent momentum!" Dutch beamed, thoroughly satisfied. His gaze then shifted, turning to Miss O'Shea and the other women, a new phase of his grand design already forming in his mind.