Dimensional Trader in Marvel

The interviews at McKinsey Consulting went exceptionally well. Josh successfully hired five qualified individuals: three experienced managers, one financial officer, and one administrative secretary.

All five were men.

This was normal for the pre-WWII era. Even in a progressive country like the United States, women's participation in the workforce was minimal and concentrated in fields considered "suitable for women," such as teaching, clerical work, and retail services.

It wasn't until the U.S. entered the war, when men enlisted in droves and labor shortages arose, that women were actively encouraged by the Roosevelt administration to fill roles across various industries.

After the war ended, however, many women lost their jobs as returning male workers reclaimed their positions. This trend persisted until the 1960s when significant social change began to occur.

Similarly, access to higher education for women was limited. While some public universities admitted women as early as the 19th century, these institutions were often community or vocational colleges, teaching basic career skills.

Elite schools such as Harvard, Yale, and Caltech only started admitting women much later—typically in the 1970s. Even MIT, which began admitting women in 1911, maintained a very low enrollment rate for female students.

Thus, finding well-educated female professionals in this era was rare unless they came from prominent families working for their own businesses. If Josh didn't want a mere decoration for his office, hiring men was the only option.

After completing the interviews, Josh assigned tasks to his new team. The managers were to scout suitable factory locations, while the financial officer and secretary were tasked with finding a suitable office space.

With the work delegated, Josh declined an invitation to a celebratory dinner with McKinsey executives and prepared to return home.

As he exited the building, a fleet of police cars sped by, sirens blaring.

Moments later, the distinct rattle of machine guns echoed from the direction of the lakeside district.

Josh hesitated but quickly decided to avoid trouble and head in the opposite direction. Staying out of it seemed the wisest course of action.

However, as Murphy's Law dictates, Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

While taking a detour along a quiet park road, a man suddenly appeared in front of his car.

Josh instinctively slammed on the brakes.

Since the road was narrow and his speed was low, he managed to avoid hitting the man. But when Josh got a better look, he immediately regretted stopping.

The man was towering—likely over six feet six inches tall—and holding a gun aimed directly at Josh.

"Hey, buddy, don't do anything rash. Let's talk this out," Josh said, raising his hands in surrender. Inside, however, he was already planning to retrieve a shotgun from his system inventory as soon as he saw an opening.

"Apologies, sir, but we just need your car," the tall man said, motioning with the gun for Josh to step out.

Well-mannered or not, Josh mentally labeled him a dead man walking. But wait… did he say we?

Before Josh could dwell on it, another figure emerged from the bushes.

This one was an older gentleman in a sharp suit, carrying a black leather bag. He seemed dignified yet utterly out of place in this tense situation.

Josh recognized him immediately: Lyndon Schneider. The man's face had been all over the morning papers in connection with the high-profile heist.

'Well, isn't this just my lucky day?' Josh thought sarcastically.

"My apologies, sir, but we truly do need this vehicle," Schneider said, doffing his hat and bowing politely. However, as his gaze fell on Josh's face, he paused, visibly taken aback.

"Young man, what is your relation to Heinz Kahn?" Schneider asked, his tone curious.

Josh froze. Heinz Kahn was the name of his late father.

"You knew my father?" Josh asked, frowning.

"Indeed. That must make you Josh Kahn. I'm Erwin Lyndon Schneider, a friend of your father's," the old man replied.

Oh, I know who you are. We were just on the same front page this morning, Josh thought.

Still, if Schneider could accurately name his father, his claim might hold some truth.

The man's Bavarian accent, his German surname, and his old-fashioned manners seemed consistent with someone who might have been acquainted with Josh's Austrian family.

"But I don't recall my father ever mentioning a criminal friend," Josh said with a hint of sarcasm. "And I certainly don't think any friend of his would aim a gun at his child."

"Fair enough. If I were a father, I wouldn't tell my child about such a friend either," Schneider admitted without offense. Then he turned to the tall man.

"Dix, lower the gun."

The tall man, Dix, complied without hesitation.

"Apologies, young man," Schneider said, addressing Josh. "Our situation is dire. The police are hunting us, and we're left with no choice but to borrow your vehicle. Rest assured, you can report this incident to the authorities, and I trust they'll treat you fairly. In the meantime, please accept this as compensation."

To Josh's surprise, Schneider opened his leather bag and pulled out a handful of uncut diamonds, placing them in Josh's hands.

For a moment, Josh was at a loss.

The car was valuable—his Lincoln Continental was a gift from Margaret and held sentimental value.

But the jewels Schneider had handed over were worth several times that amount.

As he weighed the diamonds in his palm, an idea began to take shape in Josh's mind.

As Schneider and Dix started the car's engine, Josh spoke.

"I believe you might need a place to lay low."

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