Chapter 22 - Let's Run Together for Now
A unit of the Five Points Gang.
Meyer, who was somewhat of a small-time thug, aimed to climb higher by adding "Slugger" to his gang résumé.
He also didn't give up on recruiting me.
In fact, after hearing rumors that I had beaten Gary, he became even more persistent.
"If you're in a gang, you've got to do some slugger work. Since you already quit shoe shining, starting with that wouldn't be a bad idea."
Sure, that might work for you, but Benjamin Siegel was only ten years old. That was way too young to be a Slugger.
Benjamin, aware of my gaze, snorted.
"I'm just going."
Ah, so he was just there to make a showing, huh?
Is there a new sprout growing here?
Anyway, the culprit always shows up at the scene.
It might be a bit soon, but Meyer would prove my alibi. Plus, it was a chance to observe the Sluggers' movements after Johnny's death.
"Well then, shall we go?"
We turned toward the garment warehouse less than ten meters away. The very place where I had caused the incident.
"What is that smell?"
The moment we stepped into the warehouse, Meyer frowned, wrinkling his nose. The scent of blood was overwhelming, starting right from the first floor.
Benjamin, the most curious of the group given his age, was the first to rush up the stairs.
But he quickly stopped and stared intently at the fabric draped over the steps. The material was soaked with red blood.
Benjamin bravely lifted the fabric, revealing thick, sticky blood smeared all over the stairs and cloth.
"Holy crap, what is this!?"
Meyer and the kids recoiled in shock and fear.
Meanwhile, Benjamin calmly climbed to the third floor to check if Johnny was there.
He really was no ordinary kid.
"There's no one in the office, Meyer! Looks like we'll have to search the entire building."
The kids scattered up and down the stairs to comb the place. I followed behind Meyer as he entered the fabric-stacked warehouse on the second floor.
"Damn it, what's going on here?"
The more people that gather at a scene like this, the harder it is to cover up or tamper with the situation.
For example, Meyer might be planning something else after finding a contract on Johnny's body.
So, when Meyer lifted the fabric covering the corpse, I cleared my throat and called out loudly.
"A person's dead!"
"Whoa, you scared me. Keep it down."
As Meyer gave me a look to calm down, the kids gathered around.
"It's a murder case! Go tell everyone right away!"
Benjamin and the kids glanced at me with eyes that clearly said, "Who the hell are you? Is that an order?"
Instead of being shocked by the corpse, they immediately started rifling through the belongings. What kind of lives have these guys lived?
"What the—there's nothing in the wallet. Johnny definitely had plenty of money."
Meyer and Benjamin began scrutinizing the money Johnny was supposed to pay the Sluggers and the advance he should have received from his employers. Scary people.
"What's this?"
Meyer finally pulled a paper out of Johnny's clothes. It was the Sewing Machine Contract.
I knew I made the right call coming here.
"It's better not to touch that kind of stuff."
"Why?" The kids all turned their gaze to me.
"Because if it's money, that's one thing, but if you're found with something like that clumsily, you could be blamed as the culprit."
"Tch, who's going to think we killed him?"
"If they want results, the police will pin it on anyone as the culprit. Especially since you guys are Jewish."
"Ah..."
Since the police are all Irish, that attitude is only to be expected. It's always been that way.
Meyer snapped back to his senses after hearing me and quickly stuffed the paper back into Johnny's clothes.
I urged him to call for someone at once.
"We need to get the word out as fast as possible. The longer we wait, the more suspicion falls on us."
"That's true."
We all headed outside, then shouted out into the street.
"It's a murder case!"
The crowd flooded toward the Garment Warehouse in an instant. Meyer slipped around the side of the building with a bitter smile.
"Damn it, we came looking for work, and now this mess."
"Since the boss is dead, it's all over for us."
"Yeah. I heard about twenty people were supposed to meet here tomorrow morning, but with Johnny dead..."
Twenty people are supposed to gather?
Good thing we took him out today.
Anyway, it feels uncomfortable staying here any longer.
How do we explain carrying clubs and knives?
"Meyer, seeing the body earlier really upset me. I'm going ahead."
If they try to stop us, we'll have to fight back.
Of course, that never happened.
Meyer had a conscience.
"I was just about to say that. Since you went because of me, you should step back."
This applied not only to me but also to the other kids.
"Since I brought everyone here, you can all leave now. When the police arrive, Benjamin and I will handle the talking. That should help us avoid suspicion."
Wise Meyer gained the trust of his friends and, putting ten-year-old Benjamin forward, even planned how to handle what would come next.
You could tell just by looking at the kids' faces.
How they felt about Meyer.
I left the scene before the police arrived.
It was past 8 p.m. when we finally returned home.
"Big Brother! Do you want me to tell you what Roa did earlier today?"
She said the police knocked on the door but no one opened it.
Hearing that made my spine tingle and my hair stand on end.
"But why were you home at that time?"
"Um, well... Roa had her reasons too."
My mother explained with a bitter expression what those reasons were.
Basically, an ajumma named Rosetta was taking care of the kids but blamed Roa for the Tenement House atmosphere worsening and gave her a hard time.
"The kids? Or just the ajumma?"
"Both..."
So Roa said she would briefly go home at lunch but stayed there the whole time.
Rosetta ajumma didn't even come looking for her at the house.
"It's not like she was singled out. Everyone who joined the protest is being blamed."
Lately, the noise around the Tenement House was definitely caused by the underground workshop.
And there had even been a brawl in front of the house that morning, so it was understandable why the tenants were upset.
I sat on the floor and looked at Roa, who was quietly munching on a potato.
She must have been alone at home like that all day.
I wondered what was going through her mind when Johnny and his gang knocked on the door.
I'll have to leave here soon.
To somewhere bigger and more comfortable.
"But, Ciaran. I feel like you have something to tell me?"
From the start of the protest to the end, my mother didn't speak to me or even look my way.
No wonder I was full of questions.
Liam was the same—he stood next to me, silently watching my mouth.
"Did anything happen to you today?"
"Yeah. Everyone was looking for you and me."
"So?"
"Leo told me to stick close, so I avoided them. Marcus joined in the afternoon too."
"Good job."
"But, Ciaran…"
My mother bit her lip and continued speaking.
"I think we need to end the protest."
The brawls with the Sluggers had thrown the entire Tenement House into a state of fear.
On top of that, I even heard rumors that they were trying to take families hostage.
"The protest isn't more important than family, you know."
"That's true. But you still have to keep protesting. There won't be any more of those incidents now."
My mother stared intently at me, half expecting and half worried about what trouble I might have caused this time.
"He's dead."
"······ Who?"
"Someone called Johnny Spanish, or something like that."
My mother seemed to understand everything at once and reignited her determination to keep protesting.
She definitely had adapted.
Meanwhile, while I was changing clothes, Liam silently trailed beside me.
"Come on, man. Talk to me."
"What the hell was that this morning? How are you fighting so well? Since when? I heard even Leo and Marcus don't know. What is it?"
I stopped putting on my shirt and tensed my biceps sharply.
With my emaciated body, the muscles stuck out pathetically like eggshells.
"...So what?"
"What do you even do all day, bro?"
"Don't tell me it's related to that weird exercise you've been doing at home every day?"
"You said doing that would change a lot of things, didn't you?"
I shouldn't have said that.
From that day on, Liam obsessed over exercising like a maniac.
And he kept asking a million questions.
"Show me the posture again."
"Watch and follow. Do I have to explain every single step?"
"I can't get that posture right, you know."
"Then just keep at it until you do, man."
"You have to tell me how to do it properly!"
"Or what, you wanna die?"
Smack!
A sharp smack landed on my back from my mother.
Then I got nagged to say something nice to my little brother.
"Stop bothering Big Brother and copy Roa!"
Seems like Roa is the only one on my side after all.
The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I grabbed a knife and prowled outside the Tenement House.
It was to get ahead of the clueless bastards who hadn't heard the rumor that Johnny was dead.
But it was neat and quiet.
Not a single ant could be seen gathering in front of the building where the protesters usually assembled.
Since I wasn't wearing a scarf, everyone just saw me as a son seeing his mother off.
No one paid me any attention.
"Looks like they're not coming today..."
My mother and her comrades looked relieved but also a bit disappointed.
They secretly hoped the Sluggers, who protected them, would still show up.
I only paid Tanner a day's wage.
Not because I was cheap.
The very existence of the Sluggers was at odds with the ILGWU's stance and was negatively viewed by the protesters.
Besides, since Johnny was taken out on the first day, I figured the employers wouldn't respond quickly.
"Alright, then! Let's give it our all today too!"
"Let's go!"
Just as the protesters were about to raise their pickets and march, something completely unexpected happened.
"Oh my, you showed up again today?"
Suddenly, Patrick appeared leading a group.
The number had dropped to five—half of yesterday's.
But why did they even come?
The protesters marched down the street holding their picket signs.
I walked alongside Patrick, keeping my face covered with a scarf and staying apart from them.
"Why did I come? Tanner, the boss, told me to," he said.
He had also been paid a day's wage.
"Johnny, you don't know he's dead?" I asked.
"Of course I know. Don't you smell something? I stopped by for a congratulatory drink this morning," Patrick replied.
Patrick knew Johnny was dead, but he didn't seem to think I had anything to do with it.
"I'm only going to follow you to the point where you join up with the ILGWU. But the rest is up to you."
"What rest?"
"Those guys."
The four who had followed us here—he wanted me to take charge of them.
"This is Tanner's order, too. But they agreed to it."
Yesterday, it seemed I had managed to sway the minds of those four.
Tanner wanted to confirm that?
No, it went a bit deeper than that.
I interpreted it as a clear message directed at me through Johnny's death.
Like an answer saying, "Let's plan the future together."
The proof was that Tanner's orders had come suddenly just this morning.
"That's why Gavin couldn't come. He's at home, passed out with his arm in a bandage."
That made five.
The number of people whose minds I had moved.
It might sound cheesy, but in this world, when one person wins over another, dozens of followers can appear overnight.
There were that many who believed their power was directly linked to their future.
That's part of why I wanted to earn even a small reputation through Gary.
The formation, breakup, splits, and merges of gangs are all effects of power dynamics.
But maintaining and sustaining a gang isn't done by power alone.
The most important thing is money.
You have to give people confidence that they can live well together.
"By the way, Rookie. You can't keep hiding behind that scarf forever. It's about time you needed a name of your own."
Neither Tanner nor Patrick was their real name.
Some even use three or four names seriously.
There are quite a few who live their lives hiding not only their faces but their entire identities.
But this advice—at this timing?
It felt like they knew I was involved in Johnny's death.
"Anyway, this is where I stop."
As soon as we arrived at Union Square, Patrick left, leaving behind four of us.
The protesters, just like yesterday, had joined forces with the ILGWU and continued their picketing.
Yesterday, they had gathered like a pack because of the initiation ceremony, but today it was relatively quiet.
The Sluggers wandered through the park as if unrelated to the protesters and admired the imposing USS Recruit.
"Seeing that really gets my blood boiling,"
"Maybe I should just enlist already."
At that moment, a sailor on the ship spotted an opportunity and tempted the group with sweet words.
"A wise choice! Come aboard quickly! If you join the Navy, you'll become American heroes who annihilate the enemy! Come take a look around the ship first! Step right up!"
The Navy soldier was desperate to recruit even one more person. Some gullible folks were even signing up right on the spot, and the Sluggers were no exception.
"Stop! "Where do you think you're going?"
"I've been thinking it over. They provide food, shelter, and a paycheck—I don't see any reason to hesitate."
"They say you get to learn shooting and combat training. I'll come back as a human weapon."
"Not a weapon, more like a meat shield—you'll all get wiped out. Come on, come over here."
Tanner was the one who put them in charge, but I wasn't the leader.
They still called me Rookie.
Anyway, if you want to become a human weapon, I'll make it happen. I'll train you to be a warrior without any blood or tears.
"First, how about we run a bit?"
"Where?"
"Just a jog around the park? No, a walk."
"Hey, hey, you'll collapse running with that body. I can't be responsible for you guys."
On one side, there was the protest.
On the other, we ran through the park, starting physical training.
That afternoon, news of Johnny's death seemed to spread, and the atmosphere within the ILGWU grew tense.
They abruptly changed the direction of the protest.
"Tomorrow we plan to protest in the Garment District. How does that sound?"
"Sounds great!"
The Garment District in Midtown Manhattan—
the heart of American fashion.
And the gathering place of clothing manufacturers' bosses.
"Let's go and protest strongly! Let's demand to know why the Sluggers they hired had the sewing machine contract!"
As expected from the ILGWU.
Leading this massive strike protest, they hit right at the heart of the issue with precision.
The next day,
the protest targeted the manufacturing bosses in the Garment District.
The bosses, rattled by Johnny's sudden death, were in a terrible state.
But then, another force joined in to push them even further into a corner.
The Women's Trade Union League.
The WTUL, made up of upper-class women, suddenly jumped into the protest.
Some called them the "Mink Brigade."
A mocking name for the high-society ladies clad in expensive mink coats, holding their placards with an air of haughtiness.
Even to me, seeing wealthy ladies draped in costly furs and carrying picket signs created a striking sense of dissonance.
And then, with the keen eye of a hawk, I spotted a dragon polymorphed into a human, enjoying the spectacle.
Anne Trace Morgan.
The youngest daughter of J.P. Morgan shook hands with my mother.
There she was—the brassiere investor.
Her arrival marked a new turning point in the sewing machine incident.