Bab 15: Chapter 15: Easy to Get In, Hard to Get Out
Malton Street.
**Cedar Bar**
An Irish establishment.
Around eight o'clock in the evening, the bar was bustling. A black car parked outside had two gun barrels poking out of its windows.
"Da da da, da da da~!"
The deafening gunfire shattered the bar's windows. Bullets flew inside, causing the wine cabinet and ceiling to explode.
Patrons screamed in terror and dropped to the floor, as bullets whizzed over their heads.
The bar quickly turned into chaos.
The car sped away.
After a while, the patrons dared to lift their heads. Seeing the car drive off, they scrambled to escape the bar.
---
**Red Romantic Nightclub**
It was drizzling lightly, and neon lights flickered, their reflections blurred by puddles on the ground.
This was the premier nightclub in the North Bank Gang's territory. Three gang members exited the club, chatting and joking.
Suddenly, several men in trench coats emerged from a nearby car.
The three North Bank men were caught off guard and instinctively reached for their guns, but the newcomers were faster.
"Boom, boom, boom~~!"
The gunfire was quick and lethal. The three North Bank members fell to the ground, blood mixing with the rain.
The lead attacker, Dalton, had just led an attack on Alessandro the previous day. He received a handsome reward, sold the looted alcohol and cigarettes for over three thousand dollars, and came to the nightclub with his men. He never expected to be gunned down on the street.
---
**Northern Suburbs of Los Angeles**
A farm here hosted weekly greyhound races.
The track, run by the Irish, boasted over one hundred greyhounds. It generated a weekly turnover of over $100,000, with a profit of more than $10,000.
It was a crucial business for the North Shore Gang.
But today, visitors discovered that many of the hounds had been killed. The farm's manager urgently informed North Shore's enforcer, Hemi Weiss.
Hemi Weiss and his deputy, Burgess Moran, arrived and were livid when they saw the dead dogs.
Hemi Weiss approached a particularly cherished dog, one that had won many races. He picked up its head and roared in fury.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit!!!"
"Who did this? Who did this?!"
Hemi Weiss yelled at the manager.
"I don't know. When I arrived this morning, the dogs were already dead," the manager replied, trembling.
"Investigate. Find out who is responsible!" Hemi Weiss roared again.
The investigation revealed that someone had poisoned the dog food overnight, killing the greyhounds. The culprit remained unidentified.
Hemi Weiss suspected the Jewish Gang, given the recent hostilities between the two groups.
He looked at the dead dogs. Each one was expensive, and his most valued one was worth at least three thousand dollars.
The direct loss exceeded $50,000 to $60,000. With the dogs gone, his track would be closed temporarily, causing a potential loss of several hundred thousand dollars.
Hemi Weiss was deeply distressed.
---
The Irish, unwilling to back down, sought revenge the following day.
A Jewish gang truck delivering drinks was ambushed. Gunmen appeared and shot up the truck.
Pedestrians screamed and scattered.
The truck's cab was wrecked, and the bar was damaged, with broken doors and windows.
Two Jewish gang members were killed on the spot. The attackers then fled, leaving behind a chaotic scene.
---
Nighttime was when the Jewish underground casino was busiest.
Seven or eight men in black trench coats emerged from a car, armed with pistols, shotguns, and a Chicago typewriter, and stormed the casino.
The three Jewish guards tried to draw their weapons but were quickly overpowered. The attackers stormed inside.
"DaDaDaDaDaDa~!"
Machine guns fired wildly. Patrons and staff lay on the floor in fear, while those who attempted to resist were killed on the spot.
The cash redemption area was filled with large amounts of money.
The robbers forced a waiter to open the door, filled two backpacks with about seventy to eighty thousand dollars, and then departed.
As the robbers left, the remaining gamblers fled in terror, likely never to return.
The conflict between the Jewish Gang and the North Shore Gang was now overt.
The atmosphere in Los Angeles grew tense.
The Los Angeles Times reported extensively on the recent shootings. While not naming names directly, it was clear that the two largest gangs in the city were at odds.
An old-timer familiar with the city's underworld remarked, "I remember when the Jewish Gang first arrived in Los Angeles seven or eight years ago, there was a large-scale conflict with the North Shore Gang. Back then, it was a tit-for-tat situation. It lasted for six months before things calmed down."
"Now, after seven or eight years, are we seeing a repeat of that conflict? I wonder what Los Angeles will become this time."
A young man asked, "Do the government and police not care?"
"Of course, the police will respond and may even arrest some gunmen," the old-timer replied. "But that doesn't shake the presence of the gangs. The gang members aren't afraid of jail. In fact, the chaos benefits the police."
"What benefits?" asked the young man.
"Hehe, they can submit reports to the city council asking for increased management fees, equipment, and staff. The more chaos, the more they can justify their demands."
---
Dani was well aware of the conflict.
Savoring a cigar, he stood by the massive windows of his office on the 18th floor, watching the city below with a triumphant smile.
He had orchestrated the recent conflicts in Los Angeles from behind the scenes.
The Irish had originally planned to attack and squeeze the Jewish Gang's assets. When one attack failed, it exposed their identity, prompting a retaliation from the Jewish Gang.
The Jewish Gang's revenge spurred further retaliation from the Irish.
Dani was pleased with the outcome.
Turning to Sergeant Burstein, he bragged, "Do you see, Burstein? When the seeds of hatred are sown, stopping them isn't easy."
"The Irish rob the liquor truck, kill people, and disrupt businesses. The Jewish Gang retaliates, even targeting Hemi Weiss's beloved dogs. Despite knowing it's a conspiracy, they'll keep retaliating for revenge. No one can stop them, as they're unsure if the other side will relent."
"Hahahaha~~~"
"In the end, they'll fight endlessly until they're exhausted. That's when our chance will come!"
Bab 16: Chapter 16: Let's Do It Formally!
The recent conflict between the Jewish gang and the Irish has been quite satisfying for me.
I'm directly involved in it.
The daily operations are extremely cautious, always on guard against Irish attacks.
Currently, it's just Sean, Ryder, and me. While Sean and Ryder are diligent, their combat effectiveness is rather mediocre.
If anything significant happens, I'm the one who has to handle it.
Over the past couple of days, I've been considering the need for reinforcements.
The kind of reinforcements that are ready for a fight.
I haven't seen Bill for two days. After finishing the morning deliveries, I drove to Murphy Clinic and went to Bill's ward. I pushed the door open without knocking, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight.
Bill was lying in bed with his eyes closed, looking quite content.
The quilt was oddly elevated in the middle.
A lower body was visible beside the bed, clad in a white nurse's uniform and flesh-colored stockings, while the upper body was concealed under the quilt.
"Ahem~!"
I cleared my throat.
Bill's eyes snapped open.
The quilt's movement stopped abruptly. The woman quickly emerged from beneath it and glanced at me, her expression relaxing upon realizing I was just a visitor.
She hastily tidied her disheveled hair and, slightly embarrassed, said, "I'm just helping him."
"You have a visitor this afternoon," the woman told Bill.
"See you this afternoon," Bill replied with a smile as the woman left.
"It seems you're recovering well and full of energy," I teased once she was gone.
Bill chuckled.
"Her name is Monica. She's a diligent nurse here," Bill explained.
"Seems that way," I agreed.
After some lighthearted conversation, I shifted to business matters. "Bill, have you heard about the recent conflict between the Jewish gang and the Irish?"
"I have. It's been all over the newspapers," Bill replied.
He sighed contentedly and continued, "After our last attack, I felt we were understaffed. With the situation escalating, I've been extra cautious. I believe it's time to hire more people."
Bill's interest was piqued. "What's your plan?"
"Sean and Ryder are hardworking, but their combat skills are lacking. I think we need more experienced fighters, like veterans," I said.
"Who are you thinking of?" Bill asked.
"We can reach out to our old allies from the previous alliance. During my recovery, I met several people who might be useful."
Bill pondered for a moment, then looked at me with a serious expression. "Jon, I have a proposal."
"What is it?"
"Let's formalize this. You become the boss, and I'll assist you. We'll recruit a team, and I'm confident we'll become the strongest faction in the Jewish gang!"
Bill looked at me hopefully.
Formalize it?!
I pulled out a cigarette, offered one to Bill, and we both lit up.
Having been in this world for over six months, I've begun to understand its nuances. Initially, my goal was to focus on business.
Despite the differences between this world and my previous one, I believed my modern insights could lead to success.
However, as I immersed myself in the gang life, I realized that starting from scratch was challenging. Even with a successful business, wealth alone might not protect me in this cutthroat society.
Building a foundation requires navigating significant hurdles—funds, connections, social norms, and government regulations. Overcoming these challenges often attracts adversaries eager to exploit or destroy you.
The strongest opponents are the industry leaders who set the rules. Surviving and thriving amidst these powerful predators is exceedingly difficult.
As "Das Kapital" puts it, the accumulation of capital is fraught with struggle.
Being a gangster might be a viable path. If I can rise to prominence and build my own power, I could secure my future wealth.
Of course, I must also be cautious to avoid incarceration.
The cigarette burned down to the end.
I made my decision.
I looked at Bill. "Bill, would you like to be my partner?"
Bill's face lit up with happiness upon hearing my agreement.
"Of course. Just like in battle, you lead, and I'll be your second-in-command. We'll make a lot of money, Hardy."
I extended my hand to Bill.
"Crack~!"
Bill's hand firmly clasped mine.
As I was about to leave, I added, "You'd better recover soon. And be mindful of your health—don't waste your energy on distractions."
Bill smiled and waved goodbye.
---
Back at my residence, I retrieved a suitcase from under the bed and found a notebook.
The notebook was filled with names, addresses, and contact details.
With my decision made, I was ready to commit fully to the underworld.
From now on, I would go by Jon Hardy.
---
**Orange County**
Inside a restaurant.
Richard was washing dishes in the back kitchen. The pile of dishes was high, and his eye sockets began to itch. He straightened up and rubbed his hand.
At that moment, the fat restaurant owner walked in and saw Richard resting. He immediately shouted:
"Richard, stop slacking! There are many customers out front. Look at how many plates you've left unwashed."
Richard glanced at the boss with his remaining eye, then lowered his head and continued washing dishes.
The owner, feeling irritated, added sarcastically, "Richard, if you hadn't asked me for a job, I wouldn't have kept a one-eyed man here. You should be grateful. Some people are desperately looking for work."
"If you can't find a job, you'll end up sleeping on the street and eating out of dumpsters. So you'd better work harder," he said before turning and leaving.
Richard remained silent as he brushed the dishes.
A year ago, he was a sniper fighting the Japanese in Asia. He had no idea how many enemies he had taken down. But during one battle, his position was exposed and retaliated against with mortars. Shrapnel hit his left eye, leaving him permanently blind in that eye. After six months in the hospital, he was discharged from the army and returned home.
His eye injury caused frequent inflammation, and the ongoing treatment depleted his veteran benefits. Richard struggled to make ends meet in his rural hometown and couldn't afford his medical care.
Enduring the pain, he took whatever work he could find.
As a disabled veteran, he could only secure the lowest-paying jobs.
Being scolded by the boss had become routine.
He endured it because he didn't want to lose this job.
---
Hardy walked into the restaurant.
A waiter approached him, asking what he needed.
"I'm looking for someone named Richard. Is he working here?" Hardy inquired.
The waiter, showing slight impatience, responded, "Richard? Oh, the one-eyed guy. He's in the back washing dishes."
Hardy frowned slightly.
"I was told he works here. Can you call him out? Just tell him a friend is here to see him." Hardy handed the waiter a $2 tip.
The waiter's demeanor brightened upon receiving the tip. "No problem, I'll go get him."
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