Chapter 1
It started... Normally.
It was morning when I ran out of the bank. You might think Friday morning wouldn’t be the best time for a robbery, but I’d been watching the guards for the past few weeks. The guards, working 12-hour shifts, came in for two shifts, from eight to eight. Every day at five to eight, morning and evening, they left their posts to hand over keys, reports, and who knows what else, to those on the second shift. That was the moment everything emptied out. The other employees hadn’t arrived yet, so the vault floor was practically empty. I had three minutes, which, contrary to appearances, wasn’t much.
Using the duplicate keys, I opened the locker. I quickly loaded as much as I could into my bag and ran out. I run the damn stairs, thinking only of promotion. I jumped off the last step. I was almost there, running down the last corridor, rounding the last corner. I was on the home stretch when I saw a group of uniformed officers in my path. They all aimed at me. I was ordered to drop my weapon. I wasn’t going to surrender. Not today. I just tightened my grip on the gun. I slowly moved toward the side corridor. Someone fired, but missed. However, that was enough for me to shoot back. The dead sergeant slumped to the floor. It sent a shockwave long enough for me to escape. I jumped out the same window I’d entered through. Outside, a whole mob was waiting for me. This wasn’t supposed to be like this... I had to think of something before they shot me. I ran toward the agreed-upon spot. I decided that no matter what went wrong, I would stick to the plan. Maybe I would just lose them...
Initially, they followed me, just as many as there were... I heard the footsteps of dozens of people running after me. Adrenaline surged. I turned onto a less familiar street, hoping to lose them quickly. A fence here, boxes there; I knew the area by heart. Indeed, most of them had crumbled, and only a dozen or so remained, the youngest, the least trained. I was running along a shopping mall. A damned 50 meters of straight-as-a-match road. The first shots were fired. My heart leapt into my throat. The fact that they missed was pure miracle, or incompetence. At the nearest alley, I stopped. A moment later, a young cop run from behind him. I just waited there for a shot, and that was it. I stood there for a long moment until I decided to peek around the corner. There was no one there. I figured the rest had either fled or kept running. I pulled a spare magazine from my pocket. In one fluid motion, I removed the used one and tossed it aside. I replaced the full one, and it clicked. I breathed a sigh of relief, finally finding myself alone. Suddenly, I heard the click of the bolt behind me. I was face to face with a young uniformed officer. His expression was set, but his hands were shaking; I knew he wouldn’t even take a bribe. We aimed at each other for a moment, but I finally decided I didn’t want to become a target practice and pulled the trigger. However, instead of a shot, I heard only a click.
My face felt hot. Fortunately, the blue one was also disoriented. I quickly dodged, just to get out of range of a potential shot, and struck him in the temple with the hilt. Before he collapsed, I pulled a knife from my pocket and made sure his liver wouldn’t survive. The dog dropped with a soft groan. I yanked the blade free and wiped it on his uniform. The stranger blood disgusted me. I tucked my pistol into my belt and took his. I was furious, even though I’d finally completed the task, this situation should never have happened. I slung my bag over my shoulder and continued on.
Every now and then, as I heard the louder wail of the siren of the patrol car passing nearby, a chill ran through me. I didn’t want to kill that sergeant; that wasn’t the plan. Now the city was back on its feet, and the great hunt would begin. I slowly walked forward to the agreed-upon location. I thought about what had happened. Everything looked as if someone wanted to harm me. Someone must have tipped off the police, because how would they know? Besides, objectively assessing the situation, I’d say the equipment went to shit after the magazine change. Although that was impossible, my brand new Colt arrived only a week ago, and I was just checking it yesterday... Someone must have been messing with it; there was no other explanation. I figured I’d have to talk to my boss about this when I got home. If there’s a traitor among us, we need to deal with him as soon as possible.
I was leaving the alley when I heard gunfire. I interrupted my thoughts to prepare my stolen police rat-catcher. I silently prayed that the outdated thing would even fire. For a moment, I thought that if I’d been ordered to shoot a guy with a Colt with something like that, I’d be afraid for my life too.
I cautiously peeked around the corner. Of course, my men, hidden behind a car, were trying to defend themselves from the East Side Irish. No one had seen me. This was my moment. I shot one, glad I’d generally hit it, but that wasn’t the most important thing. There was a moment of silence during which I managed to reach the guys unharmed. I grabbed Foxy’s Browning and positioned myself in a position with a good view. I couldn’t make a mistake. I was shooting mechanically, saving everyone’s asses. Foxy was looking at me like a savior, and I just wondered who had given him such gold. The good old 10 was no match for the Colt, but it was a hell of a lot better than that clay scrap.
The redhead slowly stood up, brushing off the dust and debris, but Clarke remained seated, holding his arm. Teddy knelt beside him, whispering to him as if afraid I’d hear. That’s when I saw – the Englishman had been hit. A red mark was consuming every inch of his shirt. He stared at me blankly, with a mixture of shock and terror. At that moment, as the highest ranking, I was responsible for making the decision. I didn’t think twice.
“Kid, you go first.” I pulled Foxy toward the car; he was the youngest, inexperienced, and I wouldn’t mind him if something happened. “You’re not stopping anywhere, straight home. Don’t look around, even if someone follows you, shouts, or shoots, don’t stop. Do you understand?” Carrot nodded with that respectful look I loved so much.
I put the cash in the trunk. I knew I was risking everything, but at that moment, it was the best I could do. I didn’t want to risk walking through town with that much money. I covered the bag with rags, praying that this dude would deliver it all; my career depended on it.
“What about him?” Teddy asked quietly.
“Pick him up,” I ordered.
Without a word, he took our little blond by the arm and I slowly led them out onto the street. I cleared the taxi, handed him a wad of cash, and sent him and the Englishman to our friend on Autumn Ave. A wound like that, to fully recover Clarke, would require specialized surgery, something more than our Peter could handle. I knew the risks involved, but at the same time, I was protecting the effectiveness of one of our better drivers.
“And you?” Teddy looked at me from inside the car.
“I’ll take a walk. See you at home.” He placed two fingers to his temple. I nodded goodbye.
I turned and walked the other way. I glanced at my watch; it was almost 9:00. Friday, March 10, 1932. New York. The city of exiles, fugitives, deserters, and traitors. The only place on Earth where no one asks who you are. No one is at home, and no one is a stranger. There’s a place for everyone here; the only one we don’t want is Prohibition. Although, actually, that suited me fine. I’d never charged anyone that much for a bottle of vodka in my life. After all, as the saying goes, where the government prohibits, Vito takes advantage. Right?
The day had already started nicely; hundreds of people were passing me on their way to work. I was hungry. This body, coveted by all the whores, drew all its energy solely from its morning coffee and, at that moment, craved a proper breakfast. I was nearby, so I turned onto a parallel street. As I walked down the alley, I lightly dusted my jacket with sand. The blood stains looked more like mud than murder. I walked into a familiar pub. She noticed me immediately.
“Why did you come?” she asked dryly, as soon as I’d closed the door.
The place didn’t open for another hour, but she was still the only one there. Amy emerged from behind the counter and took a few steps closer.
“To see how you’re doing without me,” I smiled wryly, standing in front of her.
“I’m doing just fine... Leo,” she said indifferently, looking into my eyes.
We stood there in silence, seeing who would crack first. I won. After a few moments, she couldn’t resist and forced me into a kiss. We stood there for a moment, fighting for dominance in her mouth, when I felt like I was about to give in and take her at the nearest table. I pushed her away. We stared at each other, disheveled, breathless, with memories rekindled.
“Would you like something to eat?” she murmured, focusing on controlling her breathing.
“That’s what I came for, after all,” I replied, straightening my hair. “What did you do?” she asked pointedly, looking at the stains on my clothes.
“It’s a long story. I’m going to get ready and I want breakfast on the table. Okay?”
“Of course, honey,” she replied, clearly emphasizing the third word.
I locked myself in the dingy bathroom by the dim light of a lightbulb. I felt dirty. My hands were sticky with the remnants of blood. I took off my jacket and stood over the sink to clean my filthy hands. I thought of Amy.
She was a wonderful girl. We’d met a few months ago, when she was already a waitress here. I immediately felt we were made for each other for the next two wonderful weeks. She had similar principles to mine, and that captivated me. She perfectly understood what a no-strings-attached affair was and how to play the game. I spent quite a bit of time with her, compared to my other relationships, of course. She was wonderful. Horny, wild, with a need to dominate, something I never allowed her to do. We later parted ways, agreeing that it had been nice, but more adventures awaited. We became friends with a handful of memories and fond memories of the past. Although there were occasional one-night stands later, we both knew it was a fleeting rekindled infatuation and nothing more. A wonderful girl.
My hands were clean, and I felt like a completely innocent New Yorker. I pulled a tiny bottle of perfume from my inside pocket. Peter always made fun of me for this, but I think that as long as half the city knew me, I had to maintain my reputation. I couldn’t stink of gunpowder when I could be dragged into bed at any moment. I sprayed myself liberally with that wonderful scent. The bathroom filled with a hint of bergamot and sandalwood. The reflection in the mirror no longer belonged to the best second-rate gang member, nor was it the face of Leo, the well-known party animal. This was Vito Corleone in his purest form. The best of the best, a cynic, a murder, a sex addict who always got what he wanted.
I sat down at the bar, she brought me mac ’n cheese, and I already knew it was something risky. Normally, she’d make sandwiches or anything that wouldn’t require much work. She leaned against the counter opposite me, but she didn’t say anything. I didn’t look at her; my mind was focused solely on the steaming dish. She handed me a soda, and everything was clear.
“When?” I asked between spoonfuls of pasta, because I had a pretty good idea what she was talking about.
She could only want two things: alcohol or a quickie in the back.
“How do you know?” she looked at me, intrigued.
“Sweetie, I know everything,” I smiled, taking a sip. “I just want to know which option I can rule out.”
“It’s my cousin’s birthday today, her sixteenth... I’d like you to organize some alcohol for us...”
“How much?” I asked, feeling a bit relieved that she wouldn’t obligate me to pay for the food THAT way.
“I don’t know, maybe 20 liters...”
“What are you, crazy? How am I supposed to smuggle 20 liters in? What do you think? Do you know what kind of searches they’re doing? Especially today when...” I trailed off, trying not to say too much.
But at that moment, I wasn’t exaggerating; I was genuinely nervous. I could already see the every one car being searched after my morning’s whirlwind. I liked risk, but only when it meant a good chance of making money or perhaps something more. Maybe the prospect of another house party, which I’d already be invited, was tempting, but transporting 20 bottles across half the city on a day like this was quite a challenge.
“I believe you’ll figure something out. Leo, please, I’m very keen on this. I’ll pay any price. Any price.” She looked at me meaningfully.
The truth was, I didn’t wanted to her paying that way. I liked her, she was a great friend, but I was kind of bored with her. After all this time, each time was like watching your favorite, well-known movie: it’s good, but you know it perfectly and you know what awaits you. It was more or less the same with her.
I wanted to go. Another party, music, alcohol, and girls. Amy has such friends that when they get drunk, you never know what to expect. But I was afraid of being caught. If I got caught, I’d be causing myself unnecessary trouble, not to mention my reputation would be ruined: Corleone caught for smuggling alcohol. Ultimately, though, I figured it wasn’t impossible, and I liked a challenge.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I sighed with mock resignation, keeping her guessing. “Where?” I pushed the empty platter aside.
“Madison Street.”
“Sure,” I muttered, standing up. “Thanks for the food.”
“Leo,” she said quietly as I headed for the door.
I turned around.
“If you decide to...” she said, emphasizing that she knew I’d be coming anyway. “Could you bring that guy who was there last time?” She added that part of the sentence as timidly as never.
“Which friend?” I asked, wanting her to tell me herself, because of course I’d guessed; at the previous party, I’d seen them go upstairs to somebody bedroom.
“That one... That one, that one, that smiles so beautifully...”
“My dear, whether someone smiles beautifully or not depends entirely on our preferences,” I said with undisguised satisfaction.
I loved annoying her.
“That... build of yours, with curls, brunette, but also a bit of redhead...”
“A ginger brunette. Sure. I’ll remember.”
“You know who I’m talking about,” she moaned desperately, as I looked at her indifferently, enjoying her feeble attempts to describe Merrit.
“Did he do you so well you forgot his name?” I asked sarcastically.
She didn’t comment, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch, touched by a shadow of memory.
“He had a scar above his collarbone...”
“Well, unlike you, I don’t undress my friends.”
“Very funny, Leo. You must know who I’m talking about; I’ve already described him completely.”
“Completely? And how much is in his pants?” I asked.
A silence fell. I watched her try to fight the memories, though she eventually blushed.
“Don’t tease me. You know who I mean.”
“Maybe I do... Or maybe I don’t... I’m going.”
I left with a smile on my face. I was full, I teased him, the operation was ultimately successful, and that evening we’re going to a party with the guys. It would only be better if I knew who did this to me...
