Chapter 7: The Hunt

For the rest of February, from Lincolnwood to Burnham, from Midway Airport to the shores of Lake Michigan, Chicago was drenched in blood. Murders took place in every corner of the city.

Crowded streets, quiet alleys, taxis, subway stations, barbershops, factories, private homes—even the villas in the wealthy northern districts, or right under some nobleman's nose. Mafia corpses turned up everywhere. This was war in the truest sense.

Things had gone beyond Dewitt's expectations. The Lucchese family had gained little advantage in this exchange of assassinations. The Genovese men weren't going to keep gathering in one place to be picked off.

Meanwhile, the pure alloy business had made almost no progress during the war. Joseph couldn't spare the time for it, and every made member of the family would be in mortal danger until the fighting ended.

On March 1, Dewitt's patience reached its limit. He decided to have a talk with Four-Eyes, otherwise known as Mike. The kid had disappeared after the night of the negotiations, as though none of this concerned him. He was probably hiding at home every day, afraid of getting killed.

Mike lived on the third floor of an apartment building. His neighbors weren't exactly respectable, and rents in places like this were very cheap. The neighborhood was much like the one Dewitt had lived in when he first came to Chicago.

After knocking a few times and getting no response, Dewitt called through the door, “Open up, Four-Eyes. It's Dewitt. If nobody's home, I'm breaking in.”

Suddenly, sounds came from inside...

Mike opened the door a crack, leaving the chain in place. He looked left and right, then told Dewitt, “Turn around.”

“What?” Dewitt asked with a frown.

“How do I know there isn't someone out of sight holding a gun to your back?” Mike said. “Turn all the way around so I can check.”

Dewitt tilted his head. “Listen, if you want to watch men twirl around, I can recommend a few bars that cater to those tastes. Now open this goddamn door before I wreck it.”

Mike closed the door, unfastened the chain, then opened it again. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, so we're talking in the hallway now? Letting all the pimps and drug dealers in the building enjoy a few entertaining Mafia stories? If I'd known, I'd have brought a megaphone and talked to you from downstairs.”

Mike sighed. “All right, all right. Come in.” He stepped aside to let Dewitt enter, then carefully checked in every direction once more before closing the door.

“What were you doing just now? Watching some hardcore stuff?” Dewitt made himself at home, handling things and rummaging around as soon as he entered, until his gaze settled on the laptop screen on Mike's desk.

Mike hurried up behind him and shut the laptop. “Hey! It's polite to respect other people's privacy.”

Dewitt spread his hands. “‘Opium Club Forum’? You've got some strange hobbies. Do you secretly collect hookahs in your cupboard or something?” He immediately seized on the webpage he'd just seen to make fun of Mike.

“The Opium Club isn't a club for studying opium...” Mike said. “It's a fraternity for retired people. That's just the name they chose.”

“Oh, you mean one of those organizations that only takes retired working-class men, who get together to smoke, drink beer, and sit in saunas?” Dewitt kept up the verbal assault.

“Yes, these groups are full of crazy old retirees, including a cousin of my mother's. Anything else you'd like to ask?”

Dewitt lit himself a cigarette without asking. “I don't think so. As far as I can tell, someone like me is unlikely to enjoy the luxury of retirement.”

Mike sneered. “Ha. You mean you're going to die young?”

“No,” Dewitt replied. “I'll lie down in my coffin with power and money still in my grasp, have a funeral fit for a king, and after my death, countless others in my line of work will scramble to imitate me and try to surpass me.”

“Keep dreaming...”

Dewitt felt it was about time to get down to business. “The Genovese men are tougher than I expected. I'm out of patience, Mike. I need information that can settle this once and for all.”

“I already told you, after that night at the negotiations, they replaced every one of their phones and all their secret online contacts. I wouldn't even know where to begin figuring out how they're communicating now,” Mike said impatiently. “Oh, right. In case you've forgotten, let me remind you that this happened because you just had to show off and tell them I was a hacker.”

“Four-Eyes, Four-Eyes, you take things far too seriously. I was even planning to groom you as my assistant, but all you ever do is complain about practical difficulties,” Dewitt replied as though nothing were wrong.

“Practical difficulties?” Mike said. “The first day I met you, you said you needed my technical support. Then, while I was in the car stealing people's information, you killed them all and dumped them in the lake.”

“It couldn't be helped,” Dewitt explained. “I was going to take their money and let them go. Who knew they'd put up more of a fight and hold out longer than I expected?”

Mike went on, “I could let that slide. At least you had the sense to put two police uniforms in the trunk beforehand so we could escape, and once you burned the car, there weren't any traces left. But the second time, you sold me out right in front of a bunch of furious, fully armed killers.”

“What was there to be so nervous about?” Dewitt said. “I was in more danger than you were. Besides, I had everything prepared. You'd taken the protective medication for wm2030 beforehand too, hadn't you?”

“When you gave me the pill before we left, you said it contained vitamins and 2.5 milligrams of diazepam.”

“You looked as anxious as a menopausal woman who'd just had her last period, so I thought that explanation would save time and effort.”

“Fine,” Mike said. “Now you want information that can ‘settle this once and for all.’ Do you think I can conjure up the whereabouts of some important Genovese figure like a magic trick?”

“Yes. Why else would I come to you?” Dewitt said as though it were obvious.

“Heh... you shameless little bastard,” Mike said. “Just you wait.” With that, he took his laptop into the next room.

In fact, Dewitt's Chinese wasn't particularly good, so he hadn't fully understood Mike's first remark. He could only tell that it was an insult.

In fifteen minutes, Dewitt went through three cigarettes. If he'd had to wait any longer, he might have started smoking marijuana. Just then, Mike came back with a freshly printed sheet of paper in his hand.

“Here, asshole. This hotel. I don't know which room, so find that yourself. There's a better than eighty percent chance Frank Genovese is staying there.”

Dewitt raised his eyebrows. “May I ask how you did it?”

Mike replied impatiently, “Frank has dealings with a cop. At a time like this, they'd be in contact more often. That cop has a dedicated phone number for contacting the Mafia, one he generally wouldn't change, and I cracked it a long time ago. So I just checked their call records and tracked the cop's movements over the past few weeks. Once I excluded the police station, his home, the shops he frequents, and some crime scenes on record, that left a few public places where he'd spent a fair amount of time.

“Then I plotted those stops on a city map and narrowed it down to an area. Knowing Frank, he'd never risk going very far from where he was staying to meet a cop, so he had to be somewhere in that area.

“There are too many eyes on you in big hotels for him to risk staying in one, so I hacked the computers of every small and medium-sized hotel in the area and used a process of elimination, ruling out anyone who'd checked in under their real name. And finally... there you have it.”

Dewitt stared for about five seconds. “Hmm...” He took the sheet of paper with its few lines of text from Mike and decided to change the subject before he angered this shut-in any further. “So... Four-Eyes, you've been in the city all this time. Don't you need to go back to school?”

“Well, I generally don't go to class,” Mike said. “But I can still graduate next year. Don't bother asking how. If that's all, get going.”

Dewitt left Mike's apartment feeling secretly pleased. Four-Eyes was clearly a rare talent. He had to make someone like that his own personal confidant, rather than the Lucchese family's.

Though he had plans of his own, for now he still needed the Lucchese family's power. His most urgent task was therefore to capture or kill Frank Genovese and bring the war to an end as soon as possible. Joseph Lucchese was no one to trifle with. If this dragged on any longer, there was no telling whether the old fox might suddenly turn on him.

...

An hour later, at the hotel Mike had marked.

Samuel Genovese was talking to his younger brother Frank.

“Three more family members died yesterday. We've lost a lot of men lately, including some tough customers, but the Lucchese family is doing no better. Joseph Lucchese and Tommy Gagliano haven't appeared in public for a long time, and their mansions are empty too. There has never been a showdown like this, and there never will be again. No one is completely safe. Victory means wiping the other side out, and we will be the victors,” Frank said with some excitement.

“Can that police friend of yours offer any more concrete help?” Samuel asked. “He has quite an appetite, but his abilities are rather limited, aren't they?”

“I've already had Arthur arrest plenty of Lucchese men for us. Some have been shot dead on the spot too, but that's about all he can do. The police can't just kill people at will, after all, and without hard evidence, as long as the Lucchese men don't resist, they'll soon be out of the station again,” Frank explained. “If we rely on Arthur too much, his colleagues will soon become suspicious of him. At a time like this, we can only rely on our own killers to turn things around.”

Samuel took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Then Ouni will have to act too, if necessary.”

Speak of the devil. Ouni suddenly burst into the room without knocking. “Boss, Underboss, something's not right outside.”