Chapter 59 - You Haven't Even Tested It?
Tenement House Rooftop. Cory, his face swollen and bruised, explained the situation through puffed-up lips.
"I just found out too. Apparently, when Tanner Boss got shot the other day, it was actually because of internal conflict."
I remembered the gunshot wound to his thigh I'd seen at Coney Island. He hadn't brought it up, so I never asked. I'd just chalked it up to something that happened while trying to open a bar.
But it turned out, the Marginals' internal strife had started because of Tanner Smith's indecisive attitude.
He claimed he was retired, but still interfered in everything—and yet, he wasn't really taking charge of the Marginals either.
But more than anything, the real reason was none other than me.
"A few days ago, Gavin told the Hell's Kitchen kids that you were the new boss, and apparently, that set things off."
Tanner had separated out the Marginals' new recruits and put them under me. The old members were already disgruntled about that, so when more unpleasant rumors reached their ears, it only made things worse.
"Suddenly, leadership gathered us and asked who our boss was. Naturally, I said you. That's when they beat me up."
They couldn't touch the ones about to enlist, so instead, they roughed up Cory and eight others. The wounds on his face were proof of that.
"If Patrick hadn't shown up, I might've been beaten to death."
Patrick, true to his role as Tanner's right-hand man, was still supporting him.
I asked Cory who had led the opposition.
Among them, the only one I recognized was Oliver Wickison—a man I'd met when accompanying the others for their physical exam, a head taller than me and in his mid-twenties.
"Around eighty people have sided with Oliver. As for those supporting Tanner Boss…"
About fifty. Nearly half of them are newbies, meaning they have double loyalties with the Union. The rest are guys in their thirties who, like Patrick, have spent a long time with Tanner.
"Patrick told me not to let the boss know, but how could I not? You have to know what's really going on."
"You did the right thing, Cory."
Since our members had been beaten up, we needed to retaliate in kind. But first, this tangled situation needed to be sorted out.
"Where is Tanner now?"
After parting ways with Cory, I arrived at the Tenderloin casino. Suddenly too many things had happened, and I was thinking of quitting the job as of today.
I hadn't planned to stay long anyway, and by now, I had a general feel for the place.
What mattered to me was recruiting capable people who could actually run the place.
"You're quitting?"
"Something's come up that I need to take care of."
"Then you should do it."
Rostein himself had always told me not to stay cooped up here, but to go out into the world, gain experience, and nurture my ambitions.
So his reaction was calm.
"Regardless of Tom Foley's request, since you've worked with me, our connection will continue."
"I hope we'll stay on good terms."
"Before long, I might reach out with a job for you. When that happens, don't pretend you don't know me."
"If it's something I can do, I'll take care of it."
Rostein slightly furrowed his brow.
"That's not the answer I was hoping for. I wasn't offering you a choice."
"You don't care for people who don't think for themselves, do you?"
Rostein gave a small, wry smile and handed me ten dollars.
"A clever way to dodge the question. You've worked hard. Buy your family some meat with this."
"Thank you."
And just like that, my brief time at The Big Bankroll Casino had come to an end. Just before I left, I ran into Meyer and Irving, both looking at me with expressions of utter disbelief.
"You really just threw away a great opportunity."
"At the very least, you should've held out until Boss Rostein gave you a major job."
Good or bad, I was bound to run into Rostein countless times in crowded Manhattan.
"This isn't the end. Anyway, see you around."
By the time I left the Tenderloin and arrived in Chelsea, it was around 8 p.m.
Near Pier 25 along the Dockside.
With my scarf pulled up, I slipped into the shabby bar, The Rusty Anchor.
Inside, thick smoke from cheap cigarettes filled the air, and there were only four tables in the entire bar.
Tanner had claimed one of them.
Screech.
I dragged out a chair and sat down. Tanner, his face flushed deep red from drinking, stared at me with bleary eyes.
"Who told you?"
"Does it really matter?"
"It does. Kids these days never listen to me."
"I heard you retired."
"That was my mistake. I should've just dragged you along with me. Damn it."
Tanner downed his whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass on the table. It was the first time I'd ever seen him like this.
"Are you disappointed in me?"
"Not really."
"You know, when I was your age, I started my first gang. I used to run wild in Hell's Kitchen with Onie Madden of the Gophers like a lunatic. Once, over drinks, we bet on who could make their gang bigger."
That's how it all started, but things didn't end well for either of them. Onie Madden went to prison on charges of ordering a murder, and the Gopher Gang fell apart.
Tanner was locked up for shooting at the police, and when he got out, he announced he was retiring and left the gang behind.
"I should've walked away for good back then."
Just a moment ago, he was saying he shouldn't have left at all. Clearly, he was conflicted. I figured it just meant Tanner still had a lot of unresolved feelings about the gang.
"But to be honest, I was scared. Nearly everyone I ran with in those days ended up badly. So I thought, hell, I'll just do what I want from now on."
He kept one foot in, one foot out, using it as a kind of escape.
He claimed to be retired, yet still got involved in gang business, all the while not doing much to actually build anything up.
"If I hadn't met you, that probably would've been the end of the story. But suddenly, everything changed. I thought you might be able to do what I couldn't."
The problem was, in the process, Tanner ended up alienating the existing Marginals members.
And among them, ambitious young guys like Oliver came forward demanding Tanner hand over full control of the Marginals.
"So really, they were just telling me to get lost…"
Tanner downed his whiskey again, and his expression changed.
"You're not just going to sit back and watch either, are you?"
"Cory's face was all swollen up. If we just let this slide, you think the Union gang can hold together?"
"Revenge is at the heart of unity. That's why I wanted to put an end to this before things got any worse, but my hesitation only made matters worse."
Maybe it was because of me, too.
Tanner probably felt that without the Marginals, he'd be left with nothing.
Moments like this show just how human Tanner really is.
"You know what the problem is with old-fashioned gangs stuck in the past?"
"What is it?"
"They're always chasing after the old ways."
A typical example is the blunt and simple way they choose the next boss.
"In short, it's a brutal one-on-one fight—the winner takes everything."
Not only for picking a new boss, but there have even been these all-or-nothing showdowns between rival gangs, too.
"The most famous case was when the old bosses of gangs in the Lower East Side held a boxing match."
At that time, Five Points controlled the west side of the Lower East Side, centered around Bowery Street, while Eastman held the east.
The problem was Bowery Street itself, right at the middle ground—a stretch both sides went to war over, spilling blood.
The clash between these two massive gangs was so fierce that even Tammany Hall had to step in to mediate.
Tammany arranged for the two gangs to stop shooting and settle things cleanly with a boxing match between the bosses.
It sounds absurd, but since boxing was the most popular sport of the day—and seen as the fairest way to compete—no one objected.
"On the day of the match, there was an official referee and all the standard boxing rules. I watched it myself."
The winner would claim the neutral territory, and the war between the two gangs would be over. Both bosses agreed to this and faced each other in the ring.
Five Points' boss, Paul Kelly, was a professional boxer. Eastman's boss, Monk Eastman, had made his name in street fighting.
In the end, the bout ended in a draw.
With no resolution, the two gangs just went back to war.
That was back in 1905—twelve years ago now. The reason Tanner brought that up was that he was plotting to hand the Marginals over to me in a roundabout way.
"Most of the guys still don't know who you are. On top of that, you're Asian, you look young, tall but kind of scrawny. Who's going to recognize you as a leader?"
"So, you're saying you'll set the stage—let me fight for it and take it myself?"
"It's clean, isn't it? If you have the guts, it's the best way to fully absorb the Marginals."
Tanner's gaze was just as sharp and sly as before. But more than that, I was curious about his decision.
"So you've really made up your mind to hand the Marginals over to me?"
"You really think you won't lose, huh?"
"Do you think I might lose?"
"Hm... Anyway, what I was wrestling with was how to do it. I'd already decided I'd give it to you."
"All right. I'll make sure to prepare a spot for you, Tanner."
"A spot?"
"As an advisor."
A Mafia advisor—Consigliere.
Tanner tilted his head, not quite grasping what that meant yet.
"Kind of feels like you're treating me as old news, you know?"
"The exact opposite. You're going to be part of the gang's history. There'll be plenty for you to do."
Only then did Tanner finally give a satisfied smile.
"Since you're here, have a drink."
"Do you have any Coke?"
After drinking with Tanner until dawn, I took the first streetcar back to the Lower East Side.
I walked along Hester Street and slipped into a tenement house on Forsyth Street.
It wasn't much different from where I lived. The paint was peeling off the walls, and I headed up the filthy, dirt-stained stairs to the rooftop.
But someone had already claimed the rooftop.
A man crouched against the wall.
"Lenny Goldstein?"
Lenny looked up, checked his wristwatch, and then slowly got to his feet.
"You're here thirty minutes early."
"Better than being late, isn't it?"
Lenny approached me, eyes burning with intensity, and asked,
"Can you get me out?"
"As long as we can agree on a few conditions."
"…Let's hear it, then."
I gave Lenny the same problem McManus from The Big Bankroll Casino had posed. Since Meyer and Marcello had given different answers, I was curious what Lenny would say.
Lenny looked at me like it was a joke and rattled off the answer almost too easily.
"4.73%."
"This is so frustrating. How come everyone's answer is wrong?"
"How could anyone get this wrong?"
"Someone said 21.6, someone else said 10.8."
Lenny chuckled and said,
"21.6 must've included the other spade cards. And 10.8 is what you get if you don't factor in the J that someone else is holding. Hypergeometric Distribution—well, at the gambling table, you have to use random draw probabilities."
Whatever it was, Lenny not only solved it in a flash but also immediately figured out why the other answers were wrong, and did so as if it was nothing.
I realized something through Meyer.
If McManus, who hired him, already knew the answer, why would he have used Meyer as the dealer?
Even when you're cheating, you have to look confident.
Lenny shows promise, too. Whether his answer was right or wrong, he was absolutely certain.
"We're opening a casino soon, and I need you."
"That's just... switching prisons, isn't it?"
"It's different. You'll be treated well and have your freedom. Depending on your skills, I can offer even more."
"Like what?"
"Show me what you can do first, then we'll talk."
Lenny wasn't easy to deal with either. He turned my words around and made a counteroffer.
"If you get me out of here, I'll work at your casino. Show me what you can do."
"Of course. But before that, you have to make a decision. You know it doesn't end with just getting you out, right?"
The reason Lenny hadn't managed to escape so far was because the Italians had been threatening his family as hostages.
So the issue isn't just about getting him out. Unless we took down Pacifico, the casino operator, everything else would be pointless.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
"First, tell me about any parts of the layout I don't know."
When I handed him a pen and paper, Lenny began drawing the layout of the casino. As expected, there was a secret passage used by employees, with stairs connected to the Boss's Office.
"How many people are there in total?"
"Other than the five dealers, there are fourteen. The other dealers are in a situation pretty similar to mine."
I took a smoke grenade out of my bag and handed it to him.
"Midnight tonight. If you pull this pin, the basement will fill with smoke in less than ten seconds."
"And when that happens?"
"Lead the dealers and slip out through the entrance used by the customers."
Just as we finished working out the details of the plan and were about to part ways—
"These smoke grenades… are you sure they actually work?"
"If I test it and it turns out to be a dud, I'll let you know before midnight. I've got an identical backup just in case."
"W-wait, you haven't even tested it?"
"That's why I'm telling you now—if the test fails, I'll cancel the plan ahead of time."
"How am I supposed to do this... my life's on the line here."
"Same here. You think this is just a game?"
After parting ways with Lenny, I went back home.
Mother was at work, Liam was at school, and Roa had gone to Aunt Mary's, so no one was home.
First, I should grab a bit of sleep in bed.
When I woke up, it was already 5 p.m.
"Looks like my days and nights are flipped now."
I stretched and glanced at myself in the mirror.
I'd put on a little weight since before, but I still looked a bit scrawny.
I'll have to eat more meat.
I packed my things in a bag and headed out.
My destination: Hester Street.
I made my way to the casino run by the Sicilian gang, where Marcello worked as a dealer.
— The place where I work? There's a small window because it's a semi-basement.
— Is the window open?
— Yeah, it's still summer, and with all the cigarette smoke, unless it's raining, we always keep it open. Not that it does much good.
The alleys twisted and turned, forming a maze-like tangle. I arrived at the semi-basement casino Marcello had told me about.
Just before sunset, after making sure no one was around, I took a smoke grenade out of my bag.
I need to test if it works properly.
It's best to cut down on the competition before the casino even opens.
I pulled the pin and slipped it right through the window.