章 14: Chapter 14: The Irishman
A man hid behind a tree, his body partially exposed. Though he thought he was well-hidden, to Hardy, he was an easy target.
With a steady aim, Hardy fired.
"Bang!"
The man behind the tree screamed and fell to the ground.
Across the street, six men remained. Hardy had already used his revolver to take out one and his rifle to kill two more, leaving only three.
The M1941 Johnson rifle, though not highly accurate compared to the 98K or the Springfield, had a semi-automatic mechanism and a large magazine, making it effective for Hardy's needs due to his familiarity with it.
"Great job, boss!" Sean exclaimed as Hardy took down another enemy.
Ryder, equally impressed, admired Hardy's skill. If Hardy hadn't spotted the ambush in advance, they would have been overwhelmed. The boss's precise shooting had neutralized three opponents, leaving the others intimidated.
The remaining enemies across the street were visibly shaken. They had lost their advantage and were now on the defensive.
"Damn it!" one of them shouted, firing wildly with a machine gun.
"Bang!"
A single shot from Hardy ended the man's rampage.
"Foolish!" Hardy muttered. This kind of reckless shooting might seem brave in a gang fight, but it only made the shooter a clear target.
Another enemy peered out and was instantly taken down with a shot to his top hat, blood spilling out.
The last gunman, terrified, attempted to flee but was shot down after only a few meters.
The gunfire ceased, and silence returned. Six bodies lay on the ground.
Sean and Ryder, shaken by the intensity of their first major battle, were visibly trembling.
"Boss, what's the next move?" Sean asked.
Hardy stood up, gun in hand, and after a moment's thought, said, "Clean up the battlefield. Load the bodies and guns onto the truck. And make sure no one is pretending to be dead."
Sean and Ryder searched the scene, finding no one pretending to be alive. Hardy's accuracy ensured that each bullet had found its mark.
Observing the attire of the fallen, Hardy frowned slightly. "Do you notice anything?"
Sean swallowed nervously. "Boss, they look Irish."
Despite their shared ethnicity, subtle differences, especially in clothing, made it possible to identify their origin.
They loaded the corpses and weapons into the enemy's van.
"Sean, Ryder, drive our truck back with the goods and inform Boss Fred about what happened here. I'll take these bodies to the outskirts to avoid further issues," Hardy instructed.
"Got it, boss."
Sean and Ryder drove off in the damaged truck, while Hardy took the enemy van with the corpses out of the city.
Just ten minutes later, a police car arrived, but the officers only found blood stains, bullet shells, and broken glass.
"This place looks like a battlefield, with shells everywhere," one officer remarked.
"I heard there was a shootout on Strong Street. A Jewish gang's truck was robbed, its occupants killed, and the truck was blown up. Likely another gang's doing," another officer added.
"Our boss warned us to be cautious. Didn't expect it to escalate like this," said another.
"Since we haven't found any bodies, let's just register the scene and leave."
The police recorded the details and departed, leaving the matter largely unresolved.
Hardy drove the van to a forest on the outskirts of Los Angeles, exited, and lit a cigarette, waiting quietly.
After more than half an hour, two vehicles approached. The first was Sean and Ryder, and the second was Fred, the leader of the Jewish gang, accompanied by Alan Payne, the second-in-command, and several other bosses.
Fred examined the bodies and pointed to one. "I recognize this guy. He's Yates from the North Bank Gang. The others are likely his subordinates."
It was now clear that the attackers were Irish.
Fred turned to Hardy and applauded. "Hardy, I've heard from Sean about what happened. You did an outstanding job."
The other bosses nodded in agreement. They knew that Hardy had handled the ambush expertly, neutralizing all six gunmen on his own.
Fred's expression grew serious. "Before this, Alessandro's van was ambushed, resulting in Alessandro and his two men being killed and the goods stolen. The truck was then blown up."
"This matches the Irish style—brutal and intense," Fred added.
Alan Payne and the others agreed that with six Irishmen dead, it was almost certain they were behind these attacks.
Fred continued, "The Irish attacking our trucks might be part of a larger scheme. Recently, several of our pubs and nightclubs have been hit by various gangs, including Irish, Mexicans, Russians, and Poles. I suspect there might be a coalition forming against us."
The others listened, concerned about the possibility of a coordinated attack.
"What should we do?" Alan Payne asked.
Fred thought for a moment before responding. "We need to be vigilant. Inform everyone to be cautious and watch out for possible ambushes."
"We need to retaliate. We must respond decisively to deter further attacks. Alan, prepare the necessary manpower. We're going to launch a fierce counterattack against the Irish."
With the plan in place, the others got back into their cars.
Fred turned to Hardy with a look of appreciation. "Hardy, you've handled these situations exceptionally well. I believe you're well-suited for this line of work. I have high hopes for you."
With that, Fred and the others left.
Sean and Ryder approached Hardy.
"Boss, what's next?"
Hardy glanced at the bodies in the van. "Ryder, remove all the submachine guns from the van and find a bag to store them. They might be useful later."
"Sean, pour some gasoline into the van."
The two set to work, removing the submachine guns and filling the van with gasoline.
Hardy lit a match, threw it into the van, and watched as the flames erupted.
The van was quickly engulfed in fire.
Hardy, Sean, and Ryder got back into their car and drove away from the forest.
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