The Big Pond
As the federal authorities broke the unwritten rule of non-interference and waded into the Chicago underworld, the North Side Gang shattered into pieces in the blink of an eye.
"Open up! BOI!"
"What the hell? How did they find this place?"
The North Side members, who had only just managed to get their breweries and speakeasies running again, couldn't escape the new scientific forensic techniques introduced by the BOI. Through equally "scientific" interrogation methods—unauthorized wiretapping, isolation, repetitive questioning, and sleep deprivation—the rank-and-file spilled every detail about their superiors.
Armed with that information, the BOI succeeded in throwing a significant number of North Side executives, including 'Public Enemy No. 2' Adam Heyer, into holding cells.
While Bugs Moran, their leader and the number one enemy of the underworld, remained at large, the massive gang known as the North Side had effectively vanished from Chicago.
"I never thought I'd see the day the Feds would clear out Moran for us, of all people."
Perhaps because of that, a faint, oily smile never left the face of my father-in-law, Al Capone, who had returned to Chicago today after vacationing in Florida.
"Lee, honestly... I never understood why Rita chose a man like you, but I finally get it. You're more useful than I thought."
"Thank you, sir."
I didn't expect to be praised so openly. Then again, it made sense. If everything I’d done until now had been about money, this was a genuine contribution—wiping out our organization's rival in one fell swoop. And without spilling a single drop of our own blood, at that.
"I'd have to wait for Moran to be caught and the Bureau boys to leave before I could take over that territory, but that damn bastard is useless to the very end."
"There's no one else in Chicago with the guts to fill that void, Boss, except for you."
"That's true. Even those Sicilian hillbillies wouldn't dare lift their heads in this situation."
At my words, my father-in-law nodded, chuckled, and continued.
"Ah, today is the day, isn't it?"
"If you mean 'that day'..."
"The day we clean up the trash that was cozying up to those Sicilians. It's good for you to know, too—they seemed to have reached out to the North Side boys as well."
"Ah."
Hearing his explanation, I understood. The "trash" he was talking about were the very people who had kindly advertised on my acrylic boards and tipped off the North Side to buy feed barley.
"I originally planned to beat them to a pulp until they were half-dead and dump them on the street, but since the Bureau is around, I'm just going to toss them into the Chicago River. I need to show them what happens when you betray me, but they're lucky bastards, really."
"I suppose so."
I don't know their names, but thanks for the help, guys. Not that I'll be seeing you again starting tomorrow.
"Anyway, how is your business?"
That was when my father-in-law changed the subject.
"With Senator Glenn's help, I've found a point of contact with the War Department. The Senator says they seem quite interested. I've even heard they want to hold a product demonstration soon."
"It was made by 'Bulletproof,' so of course they would, provided they have eyes in their heads."
That nickname... every time I hear it, I think of BTSD—no, BTS. It's just... strange.
"Actually, it was only possible because you gave me the opportunity, Boss."
That was the truth. If not for the countless bribes, bombs, and bullets that my father-in-law—now 'Public Enemy No. 8'—had sprinkled across Chicago's political scene, it wouldn't have been easy for me to meet a big shot like a federal senator.
"He's a hypocrite who pretends to be virtuous, so he gave me some trouble, but it wasn't exactly impossible."
"As expected of you, Boss."
Stacking up a bit of praise for times like these.
"Also, there is something I would like to tell you, Boss."
"Oh?"
"It's an idea for a new business venture."
The bootlegging business wouldn't last forever. If history followed its original course, Prohibition would be repealed in 1933 after the Great Depression, and even if history changed because of my influence, it was highly unlikely that the next president, FDR, would leave Prohibition alone.
And I had information about future history in my head, at least in outline. If I didn't use the Chicago Outfit's infinite financial power—dark as its origins were—while knowing what to avoid and what to seize, I'd be a fool.
Therefore, I briefly explained my cautious predictions about the Great Depression and Prohibition, and the new "food" that the organization and I could feast on in preparation.
"Of course, my current company isn't doing poorly, but I wanted to tell you that there is a possibility to eat much bigger."
"...Hmm."
As I finished my long explanation, my father-in-law began to shoot me a meaningful look. What was this? He wasn't thinking of using me as target practice in the shooting range, was he?
I had spent enough time with him to know that while he was violent, he wasn't someone who went on a rampage without reason. But being stared at from head to toe in silence for a long time made it impossible not to feel nervous.
"As I thought, my hunch was right."
That was when my father-in-law finally opened his mouth.
"Lee."
"Yes, Boss."
"I have somewhere to go for a few days next week, so get ready in advance."
"With you... sir?"
He couldn't be asking me to go fishing, could he? Out of the blue?
"Yes."
When I asked with a puzzled expression, Al Capone nodded and continued.
"It's time for you to start playing in the big pond."
May 12, 1929.
After a full day of traveling by train from Chicago, five people, including myself and my father-in-law, arrived at the President Hotel in Atlantic City, located on the East Coast.
There was only one reason we had crossed half of America by train for such a long time.
"Starting tomorrow, a meeting of major bosses will be held here. It hasn't happened before, but it will be held quite often from now on, so you need to get used to such settings."
So... they were trying to create something like a martial arts alliance among gangs. No, since they were the evil faction, should I call it an Evil Sect Alliance?
Anyway, we got off the train, boarded the waiting Cadillac, and headed straight for the East Coast, where the hotels were clustered.
The process of getting into the hotel hadn't been entirely smooth, though.
"That bastard Nucky. Can't even secure a proper hotel, tsk."
With a cigar in his mouth, my father-in-law stepped out of the car, and I nodded silently along with the other men. Absurdly, the Breakers Hotel, which had been our first choice, had kicked us out, claiming that because it only accepted white people, I, the other men, and the Jewish members of the organization couldn't stay there.
Naturally, my father-in-law and the other organizations were furious, and Enoch "Nucky" Johnson, the host of this gathering, had been forced to apologize and change the hotel on the spot.
"It still looks much better than that dump from earlier, Boss."
"Of course it should. Do you know who's here? Let's talk once we're inside."
Was this the confidence of Al Capone, who ruled Chicago with sheer spirit? At my attempt to lighten the mood, my father-in-law scoffed and headed toward the hotel lobby.
As we followed him in, I noticed a crowd of people all wearing the "Mafia uniform"—fedoras and coats.
"Mr. Capone? We will take care of your luggage."
Soon, a man in a suit who appeared to be the hotel manager, along with some staff, appeared and took the suitcases that the executives and I were carrying.
"Then, I will guide you to your rooms."
At the manager's words, my father-in-law nodded silently.
That was when it happened.
"Hmm."
As if he had discovered something, he fixed his gaze in one direction and then turned his head toward the manager.
"I'll go up in a little while."
"Understood. Please call us whenever you need anything. Then, the rest of you, please come this way."
Phew, I was exhausted from lying down on the train for 20 hours, and now I could finally rest...
"Lee."
Hey, no, right?
"Yes, Boss."
"You come with me."
"Understood."
...Damn it. Goodbye, my bed and bathtub.
I couldn't risk my life just to lie in bed, so I had to tearfully leave the group at my father-in-law's command.
Soon, I realized why he had called me aside.
"Mr. Torrio!"
My father-in-law approached a man in a Mafia uniform and, surprisingly, offered a handshake with a bright smile to the man with graying hair.
"Al, it's been a while!"
What was even more surprising was that my father-in-law held the man's hand with both of his own.
If I knew my father-in-law, he wasn't exactly the type to respect his elders. Then, who on earth was this old man?
"The young friend next to you... is he Asian? You bring along interesting friends, Al."
"He's my son-in-law. He's in charge of the organization's business, so I brought him along to get some experience."
"Son-in-law? Ah, you had a daughter, didn't you? The one you had from that accident when you were young."
"Ahem, that was already 20 years ago."
Al Capone, embarrassed? What on earth was I witnessing? Was this some kind of alternate dimension?
I stared blankly at 'Public Enemy No. 8' as he cleared his throat in embarrassment.
"Lee."
That was when my father-in-law turned his head toward me.
"This is Mr. Torrio. He is our organization's former boss and my mentor."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Torrio."
I didn't know much about my father-in-law's mentor, so I greeted him awkwardly. Well, even the great Al Capone wasn't born with a cigar in his mouth. He wouldn't have grabbed a Tommy gun at his first birthday party, so naturally, he had a mentor and a growth process. Hmm, thinking about it that way, it wasn't strange at all. My head was finally clearing up.
If he was the Boss's mentor, did that make him my grand-mentor?
Just as I was untangling my complicated thoughts, he spoke.
"This fellow, though... he properly avenged Mr. Torrio."
My father-in-law began to speak triumphantly, pointing at me.
"Moran? That bastard is currently in hiding after being caught by the Bureau. The North Side boys were smashed along with him."
As my grand-mentor, no, Torrio, tilted his head in confusion, my father-in-law lowered his voice and continued.
"That was this fellow's plan."
"...Oh?"
After hearing my father-in-law's explanation, he looked at me from head to toe with a surprised expression.
"Well, this is a more interesting friend than I thought."
I don't know about interesting, but I don't taste very good. So, could you please stop looking at me like a steak?
"Al. Since we haven't met in a while, let's talk for a bit, and bring your son-in-law along too."
But it seemed my grand-mentor didn't care much for my intentions.