Business Is About Leaving People Behind
I’ve been a soldier for about thirty years since my active-duty days in the army during my past life. Since it’s been three decades, most of what I learned in the military has naturally faded from my memory, but one of the few things I never forgot was this:
"Get down!"
Whenever something happens, the first rule is to hit the deck.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
As I pulled Luciano, who had been lying on the bed, down to the floor, a Tommy Gun tore into the mattress where he had been resting, sending feathers scattering into the air.
By the way, this was supposed to be a secret hideout—how the hell did these guys find us?
"Ugh!"
"Damn it, who are these guys!"
"We're under attack! Return fire!"
Bang! Bang!
Rat-tat-tat!
Soon, Luciano’s organization members guarding the mansion, along with McGann, Accardo, Nitti, and his men whom I had brought along, shouted and returned fire with the guns they were holding.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
But the firepower the enemy was pouring out was so intense that a counterattack didn't look easy. It wasn't like they were using real machine guns—at best, it was just a barrage of pistol rounds from Tommy Guns—but that didn't change the fact that getting hit meant death.
"Argh!"
"McGann!"
In the midst of it, Nitti shouted in surprise as our best asset, McGann, was hit by a bullet and fell backward.
"I'm fine. Damn it, I almost died."
"What? No, how......"
Rat-tat-tat!
Ignoring the stunned Nitti, McGann jumped right back up and unleashed his Tommy Gun toward the outside. Fortunately, it seemed the acrylic bulletproof plate in the inner pocket of the coat I had custom-made for him had done its job.
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
Even so, the situation didn't look great. It seemed the lookouts Luciano had stationed outside had already been taken out, and the hail of Tommy Gun fire aimed at the mansion was suppressing our own return fire. On top of that, the surprise attack meant there was no proper command, just everyone firing wildly.
Damn it, I have to do something.
Thud!
I gritted my teeth, flipped the bed next to me to use as makeshift cover, and scanned the situation outside. I didn't know how many enemies there were, but of the three vehicles spraying gunfire, the sound of the Tommy Gun was coming from the black Buick on the far left. Even someone like me, who only played games in my past life besides my military service, knew that to survive, you have to neutralize that one first.
"McGann, aim only for the left Buick! Keep them from even lifting their heads!"
"Consigliere?"
"Hurry! We have to clear that Tommy Gun first!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
McGann hesitated for a second, perhaps finding it strange that I, who looked like I knew nothing about combat, was giving orders. But he soon understood and concentrated his firepower on the black car to the left.
Vroom!
As expected, the Buick under McGann's attack pulled away, and the enemy's suppressing fire stopped.
"Damn it, now I can breathe!"
"Kill them all!"
Ta-ta-tang!
Only then, as if they had finally caught their breath, Luciano’s men, who had been cowering, began to return fire toward the outside. Eventually, the three half-destroyed black sedans pulled away, and the battle came to a rough end.
"Check for additional enemies and tend to the wounded outside first!"
"Mr. Luciano! Are you alright?"
While Luciano's men ran around to clean up the aftermath, I carefully rose from my prone position.
"Consigliere, are you alright?"
I nodded at Accardo, who was approaching me, and then looked at Nitti, who was following behind with a shocked expression.
"...Consigliere, have you ever enlisted in the military?"
"Of course not."
"For someone who hasn't, your command was surprisingly proficient. I thought you had participated in the Great War."
"I was too young for that."
It was about eleven years ago, so I could have gone if I lied about my age, but why would I be crazy enough to go to the military twice? I shrugged at Nitti and walked over to McGann, who had fallen earlier.
"McGann, are you alright?"
"I survived thanks to you, Consigliere. Though I think I almost broke a rib."
With those words, McGann pulled a thick acrylic plate embedded with pistol rounds from his coat's inner pocket, which now had a bullet hole in it. It was a crude piece of work—just a thick acrylic sheet with a cotton shock-absorption pad attached to the back to prevent rib fractures—but it seemed to have done its job perfectly.
"I'm glad it helped. I'll have a new one made for you to replace the damaged one."
It wasn't intentional, but since it passed the performance test, it would be quite useful to make a few more and distribute them to the organization members later.
That aside......
Finished with my thoughts, I turned to the "mummy" I had shoved earlier: Luciano.
"Umm......."
"Mr. Luciano, how are you feeling?"
"I'm a bit sore from rolling around, but if it weren't for Mr. Lee, I would probably be a beehive instead of that bed. I sincerely thank you."
I saved his life, so of course he should be thankful.
"Do you know who the attackers were?"
"Probably... Maranzano's men. I don't know how they found this place, but......."
"It seems there's a traitor. Or perhaps something else."
Maybe it was a setup by Luciano's boss, Don Masseria. Well, finding that out wasn't my job, but the job of this mummy friend of mine.
"For now... I don't know what to say. To think something like this would happen as soon as I welcomed a guest."
"It's fine. You can just pay me back later. For instance... with our business matters."
Isn't that the reason I braved the snowstorm to come all the way here, quite a distance from New York City?
"If the problem is that the police or public authorities won't listen, we should make them listen."
"Excuse me?"
"For now... let's call the reporters here. Could you gather some reporters you know?"
"You mean to move the press."
I nodded at Luciano, who understood what I meant.
"Because on the surface, I am a legitimate businessman. If you give them enough money, they'll easily write articles criticizing the police or city authorities for neglecting a legitimate businessman's damages. That alone should stop the police who have become Maranzano's dogs from acting the way they are now."
My father-in-law is a gang boss, but I'm not a gangster, am I? Even if I look like this, I'm a patriotic businessman who even supplies the military.
"And for the rest, I intend to talk to our Governor."
"...You mean Governor Roosevelt?"
"I hear New York runs much like Chicago. And the Governor doesn't seem to like that very much."
Just as Chicago's municipal administration was run by pigs who gorged themselves on my father-in-law's money, it seemed New York was currently being run by guys called Tammany something. Maranzano, and probably Masseria's side as well, seemed to have ties there. If so, shouldn't I clear those guys out first for my business to run properly?
And.
"You have to clear them out first for what you want to be achieved quickly."
"...I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Lee."
"I'm talking about the things we're going to take. We already finished talking about it in Atlantic, didn't we?"
Playing innocent now is a bit too much. To keep the promise you made to me, you surely know what you have to do, right?
"You want to hold the night of New York in your hands, don't you?"
After Luciano and Lansky sprinkled some bait for the reporters, New York's major daily newspapers poured out stories about my attack day after day. After adding some appropriate criticism of the police, according to Nitti, the police's interference had decreased quite a bit. But that alone wasn't enough.
Unless I rooted out the source that moved those damn bastards, they would continue to be a significant obstacle to my business, so clearing them out was the top priority. My original purpose was different, but talking to the Governor of New York, who resided in a mansion in Hyde Park on the outskirts of New York City, was one of the ways to do that.
"Nice to meet you, Governor."
"Ah, nice to meet you. You've already become famous in New York. The... survivor of that attack, right?"
Franklin D. Roosevelt. In his appearance, wearing a nice smile while seated in his wheelchair, I couldn't find any despair or depression from not being able to use his legs.
"You seem to have good luck; you could have ended up like me. Ah, it's a joke, a joke. That shouldn't happen, of course."
"Hmm, hmm. Thank you for the compliment."
Though I did wonder if he really needed to resort to self-deprecating humor.
"By the way... I'm curious why the famous son-in-law of Al Capone has come here. You wouldn't have come to catch a weakling like me."
"If I did that, I wouldn't be able to get out of prison in this lifetime. And I am a businessman who only does legitimate business. It just so happens that the father of the person I love was a rather famous man."
The order of events is a bit reversed, but facts are facts, right?
"Hmm... for that to be true, this attack and everything else, isn't it too coincidental? I'm very curious why someone living comfortably in Chicago would come all the way to New York to pick up scraps."
"I recently started a new milk business in Chicago, and since the business was going well, I was thinking of expanding to New York. But... as with all businesses, there are a few more obstacles than I thought."
"So, you want me, who can't even walk, to clear them out? Oh my, my legs."
"Well, that's not the only reason I'm visiting."
Since the milk business issue only arose after hearing about it from Nitti, it would be better to talk about my main purpose first.
"Hmm, I will speak honestly. I believe you, Governor, will rise to a much higher place."
"You have a cruel sense of humor for someone who can't even climb a single step on their own."
"The White House looks like it has more stairs than here, shouldn't you adapt in advance?"
Next, the one after that, the one after that—even if he couldn't do it for a few months, wouldn't it be natural to build a connection with the legal dictator of the United States who would be sitting in the presidential seat for at least twelve years?
"...A young friend like you has a surprisingly sharp tongue. Did you seduce your wife like that too?"
"Well, something like that. She's about ten years younger than me."
"It turns out you're not a gangster, but a robber, a robber."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
My, his mouth doesn't rest. Did the strength meant for his legs go to his mouth instead?
"So, like a robber, are you going to hold a knife and threaten me? I don't have my wallet on me right now."
"If it's a wallet, I'll buy you one."
At Roosevelt's mischievous question, I gave my answer and signaled to Mr. Ahern, who was sitting next to me. Soon, Ahern nodded and took a document he had prepared in advance out of his briefcase and pushed it onto the table. Before long.
"...Hmm."
Roosevelt's expression as he checked the document stiffened slightly.
"...With this, you could buy a bank, not a wallet."
It wasn't a wrong statement. Because at the top of the document, it was written like this:
Amount: $5,000,000
"I want to buy the Governor more than a bank."
After all, business is about leaving people behind.