Chapter 5: Negotiations Before the War

Many years ago, Wishbone was just a Southern-style restaurant known for its cheese cubes. No one could have predicted that by the twenty-second century, Wishbone would be synonymous with luxury hotel chains across North America.

Wishbone had two branches in Chicago, one in the Loop and one on Michigan Avenue, both favorites of the city's financial oligarchs and aristocrats.

Today, in a luxurious private dining room at the Wishbone restaurant in the Loop, the underbosses of the Lucchese and Genovese families were meeting for dinner. Naturally, neither was coming alone. A few seasoned gunmen and a personal bodyguard were essential when mob bosses negotiated. If you went out without a brother or two armed to the teeth, you'd be embarrassed to say hello to anyone in the business.

The dinner had been Dewitt's idea. He had asked Joseph to send someone of standing, with Sonny in tow, to join him at dinner and discuss the Valentine's night robbery with the other side. After hearing a certain plan of Dewitt's in private, Joseph had agreed and sent the Lucchese underboss, his younger cousin on his father's side, Tommy Gagliano, to represent them.

Joseph seemed very confident in Dewitt's plan. He had even privately instructed Tommy to say as little as possible during the negotiations and let Dewitt do the talking. As for Sonny, Joseph had only one thing to say to him. “My dear nephew, my instructions for this dinner are very simple. Keep your mouth shut!”

On the Genovese side, underboss Frank Genovese felt obliged to attend as a show of respect. His people were actually rather surprised. Given the bitter hostility between Sonny and Tony, the natural response to an incident like this would have been for the Lucchese family to sit tight and do everything possible to distance themselves from it. Instead, a call had suddenly come through to their head office—the Genovese family had many legitimate businesses as fronts—inviting their boss to dinner. Had that old fox Joseph finally decided to put principle before family and hand Sonny over to settle the affair?

It wasn't impossible. More likely, though, the dinner was a trap, and their chances of coming out alive were poor.

Frank had always been suspicious by nature. For anyone born in this age, whatever education you received or beliefs you were taught, once you began to understand the world and its history, you realized that traditions and faith were fundamentally unreliable. Sheer violence could crush everything. Even religion had been destroyed by the Empire. What exactly were the Mafia still clinging to?

So, besides the men accompanying him, Frank had stationed plenty of gunmen around the hotel, ready to go to war at any moment.

History would record the victory. The losers could agonize over the methods. Tony and Joe's deaths were merely the last straw. Tonight might well mark the start of a war, with Chicago's two most powerful families finally settling which of them would prevail.

...

February 17, seven in the evening.

Several stretch Lincolns were heading toward the Wishbone Hotel, carrying the Lucchese family's bosses and their men.

In one of the cars sat two unofficial members of the family, what the Mafia called associates.

Dewitt and Mike had both dressed formally for the occasion, though Mike looked decidedly unwell. He hadn't wanted to come, but Dewitt had offered a compelling reason. Here was a chance to hack into the personal data of a whole batch of senior Genovese members. Why wouldn't he come?

Mike's already pale face was now covered in sweat. “You know, I keep picturing the driver suddenly turning around and shooting us with a silenced pistol, or this limousine we're riding in suddenly exploding.”

“You watch too many movies,” Dewitt replied at once.

“What exactly are you planning to do tonight? I don't really understand,” Mike said.

“Aren't you supposed to be smart? Take a guess,” Dewitt said.

The corner of Mike's mouth twitched. “I can think of three possibilities. One, you dump all the blame on Sonny and hand him over to the Genovese family to do whatever they like with him. That's actually the best option. Two, you admit you did it all yourself, explain how you robbed them, apologize, give the money back, and ask them to spare your life out of respect for the Lucchese family. That's the middle option. Whether you survive will depend on their reaction. Three is naturally the worst option, and from what little I know of you, it's what I expect you'll do. Something like sneering at the Genovese underboss and saying, ‘Yeah, I did it, you stupid pigs. You're not getting the money back. I just brought you here to make sure you know who you're dealing with. Next time you see me coming, get out of my way.’”

“Heh heh heh...” Dewitt chuckled. “Your Chinese is pretty good. I thought you were just an Asian born in North America.”

“No shit... Schools all over the world teach Chinese and English. I am a top student, you know. Being fluent in both is the bare minimum. Besides, I just thought Chinese would bring out your personality better in this situation...” Mike said. “Stop changing the subject. Can you tell me beforehand which approach you're going to take? I think any of those three could easily end in a gunfight and a massacre, but I'd at least like to be mentally prepared.”

“What difference would telling you make?” Dewitt asked.

“What difference? I could get under the table faster. How's that?” Mike said.

“Good idea, but I think once things escalate, hand grenades and the like might enter the picture. At that point, crawling under anything won't help,” Dewitt said.

Mike gave a couple of dry laughs. “Good point. How about this, then? Before things escalate, give me a signal, and I'll excuse myself for a very long trip to the bathroom.”

Dewitt's answer was brisk. “No chance.”

As they chatted, the car stopped. A hotel attendant opened the rear door. “Welcome to the Wishbone Hotel, gentlemen. We hope you have a pleasant evening.”

...

The atmosphere in the private dining room was indescribably strange. In the past, when the city's godfathers negotiated, they sometimes met in hotels, but usually they sat in spacious rooms, smoking cigars and talking.

Tonight, however, four people sat around an exquisite square dining table. On the Lucchese side were Tommy Gagliano and Dewitt, and on the Genovese side were Frank Genovese and his trusted bodyguard, Ouni, a Romani man. Everyone else stood watching, including Sonny, already visibly furious, Gava, the thug who always followed him, and Mike.

The room wasn't particularly large to begin with, and the two groups had to stand apart, each keeping watch on the other. The four in the middle were expected to eat under all those burning stares, with everyone poised to fight. The whole scene looked rather ridiculous.

“Bringing a few dozen guys out to dinner together. A fucking brilliant idea, isn't it? Apparently Hong Kong gangs used to do this in the late twentieth century, though they didn't go to fancy hotels, and they only carried blades and clubs.” Mike spoke to Gava beside him, halfway between complaining and joking.

Gava turned a murderous glare on him. “You want your own side to tear you to pieces?”

Mike could only duck his head and shut his mouth. Apparently he wasn't going to find much common ground with a brute like this.

The hotel waiter had nerves of steel. He remained perfectly composed as he came in to serve the food, announcing each dish with a smile and going about his work as usual. His hand was rock-steady as he poured the wine, and once everything was taken care of, he even remembered to ask, “May I be of any further service, sir?”

Once this fine fellow had been sent out, Dewitt began speaking while stuffing food into his mouth. “What's wrong, gentlemen? Why aren't you picking up your knives and forks? Food not to your liking?”

Frank's face was set. Ignoring Dewitt completely, he asked Tommy, “Who's this kid?”

Tommy answered bluntly. “Joseph says he's Consultant.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Apart from the few who already knew, the Mafia men throughout the room stirred in alarm.

Frank's expression changed only slightly, and he quickly regained his composure. “Are you joking?”

Dewitt broke in again. “Hey, gentlemen, do you know a milkshake here costs forty dollars? That's milk and ice cream. No booze, no extras. They put a few slices of fruit on top and charge forty dollars. And you're sitting there ignoring all this food in front of you. Are you joking?”

Frank finally lost patience and turned to Dewitt. “Kid, if you tell me how to eat my dinner one more time, I'll twist your head off, hollow it out, and use it to hold a forty-dollar milkshake.”

“That's more like it. That's the right attitude for a negotiation,” Dewitt said. “Now, let me tell you everything you want to know in one go. First, I don't give a fuck whether you believe it. I'm Consultant. Second, that money of yours from the night of the fourteenth is with me now, and I don't intend to give it back. Finally, your men are all dead, and I take responsibility. Anything else you'd like to know?”

“Heh heh heh heh...” Frank suddenly laughed out loud. “Tommy, do you have anything to say?”

Tommy was perfectly calm. “He's our associate now. That's what I have to say.”

“I think you know very well what that means,” Frank said.

“Of course I do,” Tommy replied. “You're the one who doesn't understand. You don't seem to know quite what position you're in right now.”

Frank gave a cold snort. “The Loop isn't your territory, old friend. Are you really so sure you're the only one who's planted men in the hotel?”

“All that confidence comes from the twelve gunmen you stationed in those two rooms at the end of the corridor, plus a total of fifty-five men waiting in the parking lot and in two nearby blocks,” Dewitt said.

Frank was inwardly startled. What surprised him wasn't that the other side knew about the ambush, but that Dewitt could give such precise numbers. Was there a traitor close to him? The terrible possibility nearly drove Frank, who trusted no one to begin with, out of his mind. His face darkened instantly, and he glared at Dewitt. “You certainly know the details.”

Dewitt casually pointed his fork at Mike behind him. “Four-Eyes there hacked a few of your men's phones on the way over. I know everything. Look, he's doing something on his handheld computer right now.”

Every eye in the room instantly turned to Mike. He had already looked completely out of place among the others, like a college student playing with his phone who'd wandered onto the wrong film set. Now everyone finally understood.

At that moment, Mike dearly wanted to step forward and strangle Dewitt from behind. But it remained only a thought. In reality, he gave a couple of sheepish chuckles, briefly met Frank's eyes, and even waved hello.

Dewitt continued, “Mr. Genovese, at this point I imagine you're about ready to flip the table. We all saw that coming, so I'd suggest you take a moment and hear me out on something a little more substantial, which is the main reason we asked you here today.”

“Oh? What else do you have to say, Mr. ‘Consultant’?” The way he said Consultant was unmistakably mocking.

“First, I'd like to make it clear that I have no quarrel with the Genovese family. Wiping you out wasn't my intention either. Of course, given how the plan is progressing, wiping you out is inevitable. If you or any of your men make it home alive today, feel free to explain directly to Mr. Samuel Genovese that you're simply experimental subjects. I have absolutely nothing against any of you personally.”

Even Frank wanted to punch him in the face himself, but Dewitt continued in the same easy tone. “At any rate, after tonight, the Lucchese and Genovese families will be at war. What I can guarantee is that you'll suffer heavy losses tonight and fall apart very shortly afterward. But Genovese is a large organization. You still have plenty of legitimate businesses and a lot of property in your name. All of those are resources that can be put to use. Imagine if every last one of you died. The Empire would soon swallow up all those assets, which would make things difficult for me. So I can offer you a chance now, Frank.” Dewitt finished the last bite of food on his plate. “Now, at this very moment, you still have a chance to agree to surrender unconditionally on your elder brother's behalf.”

Frank seemed to have gone beyond anger. In his fury, he began to laugh. “Tommy, heh heh heh... Where did Joseph find this kid? Is he a comedian? Have you lost your mind? Hahahaha.” Suddenly he overturned the table. “You kill our men, steal our money, start a war, and then demand we surrender before you've shed a drop of blood?” As he spoke, he backed away and drew his gun. His bodyguard Ouni moved faster still. He already had his gun raised, aimed squarely between Tommy's eyes.

“Looks like the answer's no.” Dewitt shrugged, utterly unconcerned by the guns pointed at him, and pressed a remote-control button he had concealed in his cuff.

In a single second, the entire hotel went dark. Glass shattered everywhere in the darkness. Every piece of glass in the hotel, from fluorescent tubes and wine bottles to mirrors, windows, and chandeliers, burst at the same instant. The people inside fell to the floor as though struck by some invisible shock wave. Many had bloodshot eyes, and some of those more severely affected were also bleeding steadily from their noses.

The Lucchese men, however, remained standing, unharmed. Each took out a liquid illumination gun prepared in advance, and blue-green lights once again lit the dark dining room.

Every one of the Genovese men lay on the floor, unable to get up. A few could still move, but their vision was blurred, their sense of balance completely gone, and their heads ringing. There was no chance of them getting up to fight.

“Oh? So Ouni really is an ability user...” Dewitt murmured to himself. He had already swept his gaze across every corner of the dining room. Only Frank and Ouni were nowhere to be found.