The Federal Tax Bomb
The traces of the shootout were erased with remarkable speed.
The bodies of the North Side Gang members were disposed of at a crematorium run by one of our own, and the two wounded mobsters were whisked away to a hospital connected to the organization for treatment. We recovered every shell casing that could be traced back to our guns, while deliberately leaving behind a few from the North Side to shift the blame. The police, already turned into my father-in-law's puppets through bribery and intimidation, controlled the scene while parroting the same rehearsed line: "We are investigating, and there is nothing we can say at this time."
As the protagonist of this wedding, I moved quickly to handle the aftermath after ensuring my terrified parents were taken to a safe location.
"Gentlemen, are you alright?"
"Ah, yes... we're fine. We came here knowing that such things could happen, I suppose. Though I never truly expected it to actually occur."
Despite his words, Professor Kim Gyeong’s voice was trembling. Well, it wasn't a battlefield, but when bullets suddenly rained down like a storm, you wouldn't be human if you weren't terrified.
"Jun, are you alright? Thankfully, the damage doesn't seem too severe, but I'm worried that the wedding has been ruined."
"Damn it, you said it was the North Side? Even for gangsters, there's a line you don't cross! Shooting during a wedding!"
"Please, don't worry too much about me. It’s more important that you gentlemen return home safely."
I shook my head at Professor Kang Yeong-so, who was watching me with a grave expression, and Min Seok, who was fuming with rage, before moving on to the most important point.
"We have prepared a safe place for you to stay tonight. As for the rest... my father-in-law will handle everything."
"Understood."
"And please, I ask that you keep silent about what you witnessed today. It is for everyone's safety."
I turned my gaze away from the two men, who nodded with stiff, silent expressions, and looked toward my father-in-law, who was giving an interview to a reporter in the back.
"An unfortunate incident occurred during my daughter's wedding. Thankfully, thanks to the quick actions of the security team, my daughter, my son-in-law, and the guests are safe, though they remain in shock. I only hope that the law will deliver fair judgment upon those responsible."
My father-in-law, Al Capone, could not hide his fury, yet he played the role of the victim to steer the direction of the investigation. Well, we were attacked, so we were technically victims. The problem was that we were a gang ourselves.
If the narrative shifted to a bloody gang-versus-gang conflict, the Chicago Outfit would inevitably become a target of the investigation. All we could do was emphasize our status as victims—at least, in a legal and official capacity.
"That bastard Moran... how dare he open fire at my daughter's wedding?"
At the break of dawn, the suite at the Lexington Hotel was filled with the rage of my father-in-law, Al Capone. Of course, he wasn't alone.
Frank Nitti, the second-in-command; Jake Guzik, the keeper of the coffers; Ralph Capone, my father-in-law's brother; and the Fischetti cousins—even the Caporegimes were there. Every executive who moved the Chicago Outfit was burning with fury, eyes bloodshot.
Myself included, with hollow eyes from not having slept properly for days.
"Show them clearly what happens when you touch me in Chicago. Make every North Side bastard living in Chicago—no, in all of Illinois—a corpse."
"We will deal with every executive from the rank of Caporegime and above."
"We've identified five of their bootlegging warehouses and fifteen gambling dens. If we blow them all up with bombs, they'll be suffering for a while."
I expected it, but it was brutal.
As soon as my father-in-law finished speaking, Nitti and the Caporegimes began pouring out plans for immediate armed retaliation as if they had been waiting for the signal. Amidst the talk of savage plans, I quietly listened.
Even though I had earned my father-in-law's recognition, I was not Italian. Under the rules of the Mafia, where only men of Italian blood could hold military command, the fact that I could even observe this war council was a privilege granted to me as the boss's son-in-law. I didn't want to say the wrong thing and end up being cremated right next to the North Side corpses, so I had to keep my mouth shut...
"Guzik, how much liquid cash do we have?"
"Excluding what is necessary for organizational operations, we can use about 4 million dollars for the war."
Excuse me?
4 million dollars?
"That won't do, Boss!"
"What?"
Ah, I'm screwed.
The moment I reflexively opened my mouth at the mention of 4 million dollars, regret became meaningless. The gazes of my father-in-law, Nitti, and the other executives were shining with such intensity that they looked ready to throw me into the Chicago River right then and there.
But blowing 4 million dollars on a shooting spree was insane.
"...Lee, are you saying you want to give up on avenging your wife?"
Stay calm, stay calm. They say if you keep your wits about you, you can survive even when being carried off by a tiger. Even if the opponents were Al Capone and the killing machines of the Chicago Outfit, who would shoot both tigers and humans with equal indifference, I could survive if I kept my head.
"That is not the case."
Enduring my father-in-law's glare, which felt like he was aiming a .38 caliber revolver at my head, I slowly opened my mouth.
"The price of blood must be paid. I am just as eager as you are to cleanse this Chicago land of the bastards who sprayed Tommy guns at the organization and my wife."
"Then what is the problem?"
"I only wanted to suggest that we need to adjust the timing and method of that cleansing. If only because of the documents we submitted to the IRS the day before yesterday."
The IRS.
As that word, which bothered him so much, left my lips, my father-in-law's gaze softened slightly. I continued.
"By now, all the eyes of the federal government will be focused on the organization, especially on you, Boss. If we cause too much of a scene in this situation, we are only providing them with something to bite into."
In fact, in original history, the trigger for the federal government to move in earnest to catch Al Capone was the St. Valentine's Day Massacre on February 14th. Thankfully, it hadn't happened this time thanks to my wedding with Rita, but if we blew everything up for revenge, it would just lead to the same result as history.
Unless I wanted my father-in-law to rot in prison for 11 years like in original history, I had to stop us from making a big scene.
"Instead, we should dry them out from the bottom up. So they can never stand up again."
Of course, that didn't mean I intended to leave them alone.
"What are you planning to do?"
"We dismantle the North Side bastards from the inside. By cutting off their money supply while quietly assassinating their executives. The process will be relatively quiet, but the results will not be much different."
I had just blurted it out, but it wasn't exactly impossible. The money supply of gangs in this era, where the ghost of Prohibition still lived, was obvious. Bootlegging, gambling, or traditional criminal businesses like prostitution. If I used the black money held by the Chicago Outfit and the money laundered by SCC, tightening their purse strings wasn't a difficult task.
"Boss, if you wait just a little longer, the organization will become even more solid. Until then, we weaken the North Side bastards legally, and then we deliver the decisive blow. That will be the end of it."
The important thing here was "legally." The reason the Chicago Outfit could survive in the Chicago underworld until the future wasn't simply because they were good with guns and bombs. It was because they held the "legal" power that moved this metropolis of 3 million people—politics, the press, administration, and the police. My argument was merely an extension of what the organization had been doing and would continue to do.
"......."
When I finished speaking, a heavy silence flowed through the room. Nitti still had a dissatisfied expression, and the other Caporegimes were looking back and forth between me and my father-in-law with eyes that seemed to ask, "Why isn't the Boss shooting that guy right now?"
"Hoo."
My father-in-law, Al Capone, inhaled deeply on his cigar instead of answering. How much time had passed?
"Lee."
Finally, he opened his mouth.
"Yes, Boss."
"We will make an example of them. If we don't, other gangs will take us for fools. But your words seem to have merit."
His low voice still carried a murderous intent, but compared to a moment ago, when it felt like he might actually shoot, he was definitely calmer.
"Frank, make a detailed plan and execute it. Just like that kid said, make an example of them, but don't make it loud."
"Understood."
"Guzik, support Lee's plan, to the extent that it doesn't affect the war or the organization."
"Of course."
"The rest of you, move according to Frank's plan. This is a war where the entire organization is moving."
"Yes, Boss."
"Yes, Boss."
At Al Capone's commands, which flowed like water, everyone except me bowed their heads.
And.
"Lee."
The next turn was mine.
"Yes, Boss."
"Don't disappoint me. If I have to shoot you, I'll have to look at Rita's sad face."
"...I will prove it."
At my father-in-law's sharp threat, I bowed my head as I answered. Now, the curtain was rising on a full-scale war.
After my father-in-law declared war on the North Side, mysterious accidents began to occur in succession throughout Chicago. To be precise, they were disguised as accidents.
"Hmm, the media control is working better than I thought? As expected of my father-in-law."
I sat at my desk with the nameplate [President Jun Lee] and marveled as I read the newspaper. Of course, accident reports like this were coming out almost every day, but compared to what I had heard through Guzik or Rita, it was just the tip of the iceberg. In places where the eyes of public authority couldn't reach, or places that turned a blind eye even if they did, shootouts and assassinations were breaking out every day.
Even for me, who was slightly removed from the center of the organization, this was already the third time I had faced Chicago-style "keyboard warriors" who sprayed lead instead of malicious comments. I didn't know for sure, but it was obvious that my father-in-law and other executives of the organization were facing countless attacks.
"I need to start the test production of PMMA quickly. I need to make some proper bulletproof glass, for heaven's sake."
I sighed as I looked at the torn coat hanging on a wooden hanger, damaged by scattered glass shards. The production facility wasn't finished yet because I was rushing to prepare the data to file for the patent even a little faster than in original history. But since the war with the North Side had started, even starting production at a laboratory level and applying it to the glass of the organization's vehicles, including my father-in-law's, would be quite helpful. That was one of the original uses for this plastic, which was as transparent as glass yet strong enough to be used in aircraft.
Of course, that wasn't the most important thing I had to solve right now.
"It's about time they came, but strangely, there's no news."
It was then, as I scratched my head while looking at the calendar hanging on the wall of the president's office.
Bang-!
"Pr, President!"
"Can't you knock before coming in?"
I scolded the head of security—an organization member in disguise—who had burst through the door of the president's office without knocking. However, his reply was unexpected.
"Th, th, there's a problem."
"Why, did the North Side bastards gift us a bomb?"
"It's not that, but......."
To my question, the flustered head of security slowly caught his breath and opened his mouth.
"Someone from the Department of the Treasury has arrived. They said they came for an investigation......."
"Ah."
It was a bomb, all right. The only difference was that this bomb wasn't from the North Side, but a tax bomb from the federal government of the great United States. And.
"Tell them to come in."
That bomb was exactly what I had been waiting for.