The Inevitability of Death and Taxes
Death and taxes are unavoidable.
The day after the engagement ceremony.
The newspaper on February 6, 1929, carried heavier news than usual.
A piece of paper called the Kellogg-Briand Pact, which declared the renunciation of war between the United States and France, had been ratified. Frank Hawks, a naval pilot, had set a new record for a transcontinental flight across the U.S., and the Chicago Cubs had successfully re-signed Lewis Robert “Hack” Wilson, who would go on to hit 39 home runs that year.
On top of that, there was an article about my father-in-law, Al Capone—who was currently ignoring a court summons—attempting to bribe and threaten jurors, leading the court to dissolve the jury panel.
But those articles weren't the only things.
“W-what on earth is this, Jun!”
About halfway down the front page of the Chicago Daily Tribune, my face was plastered right next to them under the headline: [The Private Life of the Hooch King, Who Is the Oriental Man by His Side?].
Of course, it wasn't just my face; people from the Chicago Outfit, including Al Capone, were in the photo too.
“It was taken yesterday, and it’s already out. Wow, technology is good these days.”
“You idiot, is this a time to be impressed?”
I tried to brush it off as casually as possible, but Father shouted, pointing his finger at my face in the newspaper.
“No, even so, if you appear in the newspaper like this, how am I supposed to face our fellow countrymen?”
“Wouldn't they be envious that I’ve made it big?”
“You damn brat… ugh.”
At my words, Father stopped shouting and grabbed the back of his neck.
“Whoa, calm down, please.”
“Do I look like I can calm down? I’m going to be called the parent of a gangster by every Korean in Chicago!”
Well, what can you do, Father?
Since it was going to be found out eventually, isn't it better to think of it as being found out a little early?
I swallowed that thought, knowing that if I said it, tomorrow would likely be Father’s funeral, and I changed the subject.
“More importantly, I have something to tell you.”
“What, what is it this time? Did you go and kill someone?”
“Of course not. With this frail body, who would I kill?”
I shook my head at Father, who was still struggling to contain his anger, and continued.
“Rita is pregnant.”
“...What?”
For a moment, Father’s body, which had been fuming, stiffened.
“You’re going to have a grandchild.”
“Grand... grandchild?”
“Yes. She said it’s been a little over a month.”
It is absurd. Since the child is just over a month old, that means it happened the very day I first met Rita.
I hadn't used it that often, but isn't this performance a bit too good?
“Grandchild, grandchild...”
As if he had never been shouting, Father quieted down and muttered the word ‘grandchild’ with a dazed expression.
“I’ll bring my wife over for the Lunar New Year.”
“R-really?”
“The wedding is in two weeks, so we should talk as a family before then. And I need to introduce her to our fellow countrymen, too.”
I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Father, who had softened upon hearing about the pregnancy and the grandchild.
Father continued.
“...I don’t think the reaction will be very good.”
“But we’re all Koreans, surely they won’t throw stones, right?”
Even if Joseon was a powerhouse in stone-throwing, they wouldn't crack the head of a bachelor getting married in front of his bride, right?
“Don’t worry too much. If you have the chance, please tell the pastor and the teachers in advance. They’d be surprised if we just showed up, wouldn't they?”
“Right... when you come, please come normally. Don’t bring anything strange.”
“Of course. Well, I’m off to work.”
At Father’s worried words, I tucked away the crumpled newspaper, flashed a grin, and turned around.
Soon, I climbed into the backseat of the black Cadillac waiting in front of the laundry shop.
“Let’s go.”
“Understood.”
Vroom!
At my words, the organization member behind the wheel replied and stepped on the gas.
In the backseat of the luxury sedan—lacking compared to my previous life, but comfortable enough—I unfolded the Chicago Tribune I had brought with me.
Soon, my gaze passed over my face, printed next to my father-in-law, and moved to the advertisements and short news items at the bottom of the page.
Among them, one single line of news caught my eye.
[Federal Reserve Board warns banks—'Speculative credit suppression' measures expected within this week.]
“Is it starting?”
“Pardon?”
“It’s nothing.”
I shook my head at the organization member who asked the question, and then I chewed over that one line of news until we arrived.
The prelude to the Great Depression.
* * *
My office was located in a corner of SCC’s only factory, which had been converted from a warehouse in Cicero.
On the desk, documents and ledgers were piled up precariously, as if they might collapse at any moment, and in front of them sat an accountant and a lawyer, each personally appointed by Capone.
To be precise, one of them didn't actually have an accountant’s license, though.
“As Mr. Lee requested, we have made it so that SCC has incorporated Mr. Lee’s personal business, along with Mr. Ahern here. In the process, we have taken over Mr. Lee’s debts and investments as they are.”
The first to speak was Jake ‘Greasy Thumb’ Guzik, the father-in-law’s right-hand man and the treasurer of the Chicago Outfit.
Opening a thick ledger, he flipped through the pages and began his report in a low voice.
“Did you set the dates accurately?”
“For now, we’ve made it look like the business started in 1924. We’ve processed it so that Mr. Lee received a $1 million investment from an investor in the past.”
“Then, where did that investor go?”
“Well... we made it so they went somewhere in Europe and went missing. The BIR—the predecessor to the IRS—is short-staffed anyway, so those guys won’t be able to find them.”
“I see.”
I nodded at the explanation and moved on to the next topic.
“What about the expenses?”
“We’ve calculated it to be just under $800,000. As you said... we’ve divided it into various borrowed names and categories so it goes to the Boss.”
“There must not be even the slightest problem with the supporting documents. You know that, right? This is about the Boss.”
“Of course... I’ve already spent several nights awake matching documents with the guys below.”
“Good.”
I nodded at Guzik, who had a fatigued face that suggested he really had stayed up all night.
“Other licensing work related to the company, and preparations for patents, have also been neatly organized. However...”
It was then that Michael F. Ahern, one of the father-in-law’s legal team, looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“You are handling things in a very unconventional way.”
“Is that so?”
“Usually, if it’s a matter of the source of investment funds, it’s simple to set up several shell companies or utilize existing businesses owned by the organization. Furthermore, even if you distributed it under borrowed names, leaving a record that you handed a large sum of $800,000 to the Boss... I don’t quite understand.”
That would be the case.
If I hadn't double-majored in business administration, I wouldn't have even thought of this method in the first place.
No, even so, the details were so complex that I had to leave a significant portion of the practical work to a team led by Guzik.
It certainly wouldn't have been a commonly used method in this era.
But it was necessary.
“There is a reason.”
“And that reason is...?”
Looking at Guzik and Ahern, who were full of curiosity, I smiled.
“Because the Boss has to pay taxes.”
And the moment my answer ended.
“T-taxes?”
“The Boss is going to pay taxes... what does that mean?”
“Haven't you heard that death and taxes are unavoidable? Even for the Boss, avoiding taxes is not an easy thing.”
I rattled on to them, who were flustered.
But the two still had expressions of disbelief.
“...Are you worried about the Boss’s tax evasion charges?”
The one who spoke first was Ahern, the lawyer.
“Tax evasion isn't that serious of a felony, and even if he is indicted, there are plenty of ways to hide it or get off the hook. Simply by diversifying income sources and complicating the flow of funds, we can get out of it due to insufficient evidence.”
With his reply, Ahern looked at me with a pitiful gaze.
He was probably thinking, ‘To be worried about something so useless, he may be Mr. Capone’s son-in-law, but he’s still just a greenhorn.’
But as someone who frequently watched history YouTube channels, I remembered, however vaguely.
That the legal team, including the lawyer in front of me who was saying that, ultimately failed to protect the Boss.
“How long do you think that will work?”
“...Pardon?”
While Ahern blinked in confusion at my question, I continued.
“It might work this year, or perhaps until next year. But the FBI, the Treasury Department, and the federal government are not fools.”
“You underestimate us too much, Mr. Lee. We have protected the Boss this way until now, and we will continue to...”
“Phew.”
Geez, they just don't get it.
At this rate, it was clear they wouldn't understand no matter how much I explained.
Well, it would be natural for them to dislike it if a parachute hire they’d only known for a month tried to make them do something complicated and annoying.
Perhaps it was impossible for me to persuade them, as they were already at the peak of their careers.
Then there was only one way.
“Can you take responsibility for those words?”
Step, step.
After letting out a sigh at Ahern’s words, I stood up and walked toward the coat hanging in the corner.
“Pardon?”
“I’m asking if you can bet your life on it.”
Thud!
With those words, I took something out of the hanging coat and placed it on the desk.
“......”
The expressions of the two, who turned their gaze to the piece of metal placed on the desk, froze stiffly.
They had no choice but to.
Because what I had placed on the desk was an automatic pistol.
Rita had told me to take it, so I did, but I didn't think I’d actually use it.
“It’s a gift from the Boss.”
Gulp.
At my next words, Ahern swallowed hard.
According to Rita, the gun itself meant nothing, but if it was something the Boss had given, the story changed.
“I trust you know what this means.”
This was a kind of military authority and execution power granted by the Boss.
Including Guzik, who was Jewish, anyone who wasn't a formal organization member with Italian blood could never have received this item under normal circumstances.
Of course, if I pulled the trigger over something as trivial as this, there was a high possibility that my life would disappear that very day, but still.
It was enough to intimidate the opponent.
“I am betting my life on this. You might not know it, but if I fail, I will die. Perhaps the Boss will, too.”
That wasn't an empty threat.
My father-in-law, Al Capone, would be locked in prison for 11 years and then retire if things continued this way.
The great ‘Heavenly Country’ had already designated my father-in-law as ‘Public Enemy No. 1,’ and their noose was already tightening around his neck.
And the moment he went to prison, I would lose the only shield protecting me from the organization and the United States.
To prevent such a tragedy, I had to solve this tax evasion problem first, no matter what.
“The federal guys have many charges against the Boss, but for most of them, there is no evidence, or it has already been destroyed. In other words.”
I stopped speaking and looked at the two, whose faces had turned pale.
“If we only solve this tax evasion problem, there is no one in Chicago who can touch the Boss. Do you understand?”
“...I understand.”
“I, I understand.”
“Good.”
As expected, a gun is an excellent knowledge-injector.
As the two nodded with stiff expressions, I nodded back, shoved the pistol back into the inside of my coat, and returned to continue.
“Then, we will proceed as I said earlier.”
“......”
There was no reply, but the answer had already been decided.