I've Already Got a Plan
The Union and Marginals training facility on Allen Street.
The gloomy basement was thick with sweat and heat.
With Boss Kieran away, the members had been quietly cheering inside—but the instructor who took his place, Anthony Fisher, was no soft touch either.
Ten hours a day. The selected men spent their time pushing their bodies to the brink of collapse and drilling combat skills until nothing was left.
Among them was Leo, who still occupied an awkward spot in Kieran's orbit. He leaned against the wall, dragging in rough breaths during a short rest.
How could he change like that?
Kieran's sudden transformation.
At first it had been nothing but questions. Now even the questions no longer came.
Kieran ran every day and trained without fail. On that skinny frame that once looked ready to fly off at a single punch, flesh and muscle had filled out. There was hardly any difference now between him and Leo, who had been born built.
And what of the abilities Kieran had shown so far?
Fundamentally, the size of the vessel was different.
Marcus was the same—the kid who had once squatted on the street with them polishing shoes. Once he found a purpose, even his eyes had changed. The boy trading jokes on the pavement a year ago was nowhere to be seen.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
After wrestling with that question, Leo had volunteered for the training. To change from the foundation up. To drive the version of himself that couldn't find a direction right up to the edge of a cliff.
The effect was clear. Through training he came to know himself, and a direction for his life took shape on its own. Once resolve hardens, the eyes and the face change with it.
Anthony had noticed.
"You looked like your head was full of shit for a while, but on the last day it seems you've finally found your direction."
"How did you know?"
"I told you I can tell by the eyes alone, didn't I?"
"I think I believe it now."
"What, so you didn't believe me before?"
Anthony snorted and held out his hand.
"If you've got a goal, you've got to work harder, right?"
"Do you have a goal, Anthony?"
Leo took the offered hand and pulled himself up. Anthony scratched his nose as he answered.
"A guy like me needs someone else to set it."
"Like choosing a target?"
"That's right. Once the target's set, you hang on until you kill it. That's the goal."
"So do you have a target now?"
Anthony nodded with a meaningful smile.
"Your friend gave me one hell of a target."
"If you're saying it like that, it must be the real deal. That's Kieran for you."
Anthony looked around and clapped his hands.
"Break's over!"
"Already!?"
"Shit, did you misread the time?"
"Shut up and form two ranks."
Those who had been with the Boss from the start had adapted enough to endure. But the ten new men Anthony had added were living through hell every single day. On this, the last day of training, Leo watched them with pity and silently rooted for them.
Recently the fence Rosenthal had established a logistics company in the LES.
Its name: Silver Chain Logistics—SCL for short.
A company founded to put a legitimate face on the distribution network for smuggled goods and black-market trade.
The shares: my youngest maternal uncle, Derek Fisher, held eight; Isaac Rosenthal held two. I was the real owner, but as a minor I had no choice but to put Derek forward as a stopgap. The same went for the other contracts.
In New York you only became a legal adult at twenty-one, able to enter into contracts in your own name. That was why every building owner, the underwear shop Intimo, and the metalworks Life Steel were all registered under Mother's name. The dance hall stood under Patrick; the flea market under Brian.
Without meaning to, I was living a life of non-ownership.
"I'm really not that greedy."
Leo snorted and dug at his ear like he didn't want to hear it.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"What reaction did you want?"
"Anyway, being young has its upsides, but this part is pure garbage."
"Nothing you can do. Hold out three years. Then you can put everything in your name."
"Can't do that. That would be dangerous in its own way—have to keep things properly separated. Leo, what do you want to do? Have you thought about it?"
School or business. There was no end to what he could do with me. If Leo wanted it and had the ability, I was ready to hand it over.
"School doesn't seem right for me. And on the intel side, Marcus is already better than I am…"
"So you're just going to freeload?"
"Hey, I wasn't finished."
Leo suddenly fixed me with a hard look and spoke in a solemn voice.
"I want to be your secretary."
For a moment I doubted my ears.
"Secretary?"
"No matter how I think about it, that seems right."
I had never even considered it. Was that why he had joined the training? Leo had been quite serious about everything from CQC to firearms.
"You know being a secretary is the hardest job, right?"
"Of course. I might have to die in your place. I might have to be your hands and feet and take on all the dirty work."
Which meant he had to be the closest confidant—someone I could trust. Leo's self-pitch came out as naturally as if he had prepared the lines in advance.
I hadn't expected it, but looking at it carefully, Leo was a good fit for a secretary. He knew everything I had done, and he was close with the family.
"You won't regret it?"
"I've thought about it a long time. If I was going to regret it, I'd still be mulling it over before saying anything."
"Then the moment I don't like it, you're out?"
"Got it."
Looking at Leo's light expression, he seemed to have been carrying a heavy burden of thought for a while.
A knock at the door. Brian came looking for me.
Three days since the flea market reporters had gone after Eastern Trucking Company. What information had they brought back?
I stopped Leo as he tried to leave.
"You need to hear this too. Where do you think you're going?"
"Huh? Oh—right."
Brian eyed me carefully and held out a sheaf of papers. I looked at the report written inside and clicked my tongue.
"This is why environment matters. They wrote it just like real reporters. The writing's gotten better too."
"I've been learning from the new kids."
The seniors taught violence, coercion, and threats; the juniors taught writing. I liked the structure of the flea market more and more.
I skimmed the report and handed the finished pages to Leo as well.
Summarizing the information the reporters had gathered: they had tailed the president, Franklin Smith, for three days. Tracking the people he met, they had failed to uncover either names or identities. That process was recorded in uselessly fine detail.
"What is this?"
"Boss, read to the end."
Brian smiled awkwardly, the corner of his mouth twitching. This bastard was acting suspicious.
I flipped to the next page, and sure enough—
"You kidnapped him?!"
"…They said without grabbing Franklin, there was no way to find anything out."
"So you kidnapped him!?"
"…"
Clap. Clap.
"Well done. Asking the man himself is the fastest way."
"That's what I said!"
Brian let out a breath of relief, a sly smile spreading across his lips.
"Once we kidnapped him, the information just poured out. Keep reading."
The kidnapped Franklin was being held in an empty warehouse on East 7th, and the information obtained through him was as follows: the co-conspirators were a gangster named Candy Phil and five of his men. And a fence known as Old Nicky, who moved smuggled goods flowing in from the East River basin in eastern Manhattan into the black market, was also involved.
"Boss, should I call Rosenthal?"
Seeing the mention of a fence, Leo read my mind and moved first. Not bad for a secretary.
Roughly an hour later, Rosenthal was summoned to the second-floor office of the twin building.
Leo explained the situation surrounding Eastern Trucking Company in my place, and when the fence Old Nicky came up, Rosenthal's expression turned interested.
"You know him?"
"Not well. I only heard he retired from this business a few years back. But out of nowhere he was working a trucking company?"
It was an age of staged insurance jobs, bank loans, and skimming employee wages. Of course they hadn't stopped there. They had tried to get ownership of the trucks as well, and a fence was involved in the whole thing.
What I wanted to know was their purpose in going after a smuggling distribution line. If they had anticipated Prohibition and were trying to stake their claim early? The world was full of clever, sharp operators.
Whatever their purpose, I needed to get my hands on the trucking company.
Time to go see Franklin.
A warehouse on East 7th Street, hard by the East River.
Blindfolded with cloth and gagged, Franklin Smith was bound to a chair. Beaten and tortured, he was covered in blood and dirt.
"What were you trying to do with the trucking company?"
Hearing a new voice, Franklin flinched and shook his head hard.
"I don't know! I told you everything I know!"
"The guy who hit the trucks and took the goods—Candy Phil?"
"I don't know. He was introduced through Old Nicky."
"Whose idea was the plan?"
"…Old Nicky."
The interrogation continued, one question leading to the next. Whether from the brutal torture or not, Franklin answered everything he was asked.
"So you were going to get ten thousand dollars for your part in this?"
"That was all I wanted."
"Kid, you talk like you're not greedy at all."
He had founded a company, loaded debt onto his partner, and even stiffed the truck drivers on their pay, hadn't he?
"No conscience. None at all."
"You kidnap a man and then… talk about conscience…"
"Well, you're not wrong."
Thud!
"I don't stab my partners in the back."
Behind me, the members disguised as reporters, along with Leo, Patrick, Rosenthal, and Brian, were watching. I was working Franklin over while showing them that I was trust itself, when—
"Boss, your older maternal uncle is coming."
I had called him. While a member hauled the chair-bound Franklin upright, I stepped out of the warehouse to meet Uncle Noh.
"You've arrived."
Uncle Noh stared at me with my scarf, then fixed his gaze on my right hand.
Ah. I hadn't wiped off the blood.
He asked in a complicated voice.
"Is Franklin inside?"
"Go on in."
Gritting his teeth, Uncle Noh walked into the warehouse.
I never thought it would go this far.
Noh swallowed a groan. The mad execution power of the gang made his skin crawl.
Barely three days. He had gone to Kieran, and now he was face to face with Franklin's ruined state.
Looking at Franklin, the chill settled. In its place, rage rose.
"Was it the money?"
"Noh!?"
The moment he heard the voice, Franklin's body shuddered. Even his bruised, swollen cheeks quivered. Forgetting his own situation, Franklin burned with anger at the fact that the one who had ordered his kidnapping was his business partner.
"How could you do something like this!"
"Bullshit. I'm the one who resents himself for ever sharing a drink with a swindler like you."
Noh continued coldly.
"Why do you think I was deliberately brought here? If you're released, it's obvious what you'll do."
There was no hope of release. It meant death.
At Noh's ominous words, Franklin thrashed as if in a fit. When the chair rocked, Brian swung an iron pipe.
Thud!
"Stay still."
Franklin, who had been moaning, suddenly changed his attitude and cried out with desperate, pleading earnestness.
"Noh, I—I've committed a capital sin! No, I was threatened too! It was all planned by Old Nicky and Candy Phil!"
Noh's brow furrowed; he ground his teeth. Old memories whirled through his head.
In his younger days, a gang that had often clashed with them in the LES. Candy Phil, a member of the now-fallen Humpty Jackson Gang, flashed through his mind.
"Whoever planned it. Franklin, you go first."
When Noh turned his back, Franklin's screams filled the warehouse.
But just as he was about to leave, the nephew standing in front of him suddenly drew a gun.
"…Kieran?"
"If you made the request, you should finish it yourself. Or shall I do it?"
Without so much as a blink, Kieran fitted a silencer. There was no tremor in the voice that followed.
"Soon, the trucking company will be yours, Uncle. I've already got the whole plan ready."
Watching his nephew's true face, Noh's eyes gradually filled with shock.
I thought he had grown up right…!