Chapter 9: Collapse

Ouni answered Dewitt's question with his fist. He roared, sparks spraying from his right elbow as his punch shot toward Dewitt's face like a missile, driven by the thrust.

But his arm exploded just as the gun in his hand had. Blood spurted from Ouni's mouth as the blast knocked him to the ground. He never got up again.

A third of his torso and his entire right arm had been blown away, exposing internal organs modified with mechanical parts. The circuitry beneath his protective armor hissed and crackled, pouring out thick smoke.

“Now that's more like it,” Dewitt said. “Custom ultrasonic vibration-field armor and complex biomechanical systems inside. Even after an explosion that powerful, the power supply can still keep you alive.”

“A malfunction during an attack is impossible...” Ouni said. “Can you control metal?”

“No,” Dewitt replied. “If I could control a particular substance, especially something like metal, I'd qualify as a Strong-rank ability user even if I were in a wheelchair. My ability reverses the kinetic energy generated by nonliving objects very close to me. Put simply, the bullet doesn't come out. All the pressure generated by the propellant bursts inside the barrel instead. And that arm of yours used the same principle for that punch as it did when you knocked the door flying upstairs. You bend your arm and let the pressure propulsion device in your elbow deliver a burst of thrust over a short distance. But if that force goes back into the mechanical arm itself, you get what just happened.” As he spoke, Dewitt took out his own gun. “That's why a cyborg can't possibly beat me. And I don't think you could win on physical strength alone, either.” He pulled the trigger. His gun worked perfectly normally. The bullet entered Ouni's forehead and blew his head apart, spraying blood. The circuitry in his brain caught fire, and the flames soon spread over his entire body.

Dewitt raised the barrel and made a show of blowing smoke from it. “What a shame. The vibration field stopped working after you took that much damage.”

By now, police sirens wailed from almost every direction around the hotel, but Dewitt still walked unhurriedly up to the second floor and found the room with no door.

Samuel Genovese and his younger brother Frank Genovese remained in the room, calmly smoking cigars. They had not gone out to watch the fight, but when Dewitt appeared before them, they knew Ouni was finished. No one in the family could match the Gypsy's loyalty or strength, yet he had been killed within five minutes of leaving the room.

Dewitt came straight to the point. “Gentlemen, I know that even if I wanted to let you live, you would only consider it an insult. So please don't move.” He raised his gun. “For the defeated, a reasonably presentable corpse at the funeral may be the only consolation left. Or you could call it my final gift to you both, a little dignity.”

“Police. Drop the gun, kid.” Arthur's pistol pressed against the back of Dewitt's neck.

Dewitt looked slightly surprised. “Oh? Here so soon?”

“Hmph... The sirens still sounded far away, so you thought you had time?” Arthur reached out and took the weapon from Dewitt's hand. “Sorry. My men and I came on foot. The patrol cars are still parked two streets away, so you'll have to walk a little way with us.” He called over his shoulder, “Cuff him.” Then he turned back to the two Genovese bosses. “Cuff those two as well.”

The police filed in and fitted Dewitt and the two Genoveses with a pair of silver bracelets apiece, the kind joined together in the middle.

“Did that bastard Sonny take his men and run...?” Dewitt spat. “Hmph... I've been played.”

...

Two days later, one sensational news story after another broke across the city.

The Genovese brothers were cooperating with the police. Every organization and individual in the city with ties to the Mafia suddenly feared for their own safety. Given the two men's standing, their testimony could send over a thousand people to prison, including many prominent figures in business and politics.

Officer Arthur's career soared. He now stood a very good chance of becoming one of the leading figures in Chicago law enforcement before he retired, rather than remaining a detective on the front lines. Only behind bars did Frank discover that this corrupt policeman was far shrewder than he was. Ever cautious, Arthur had left virtually nothing that could be used against him. Even now, he could shamelessly claim that he had been working undercover against them.

Speaking for the authorities, Arthur offered a deal. The Genovese brothers could exchange their testimony and their entire fortune for a place in a witness protection program. Yes, all they could get in the end was ordinary lives under assumed identities for the rest of their days.

Faced with reality, even the Mafia giants who had once ruled Chicago had to bow their proud heads. If they refused the deal, they could face dozens of charges and spend the rest of their lives in prison.

In the recent vendetta with the Lucchese family, they had already lost their consigliere (the legal adviser, second only to the boss in a Mafia family, charged with the important task of making all its businesses legal) and a formidable fighter like Ouni. Getting out, whether by legal means or a prison break, would be difficult. Once the two of them had been sentenced to eighty or a hundred years, the Earth Empire could still legally confiscate all their holdings.

But now, at least the brothers could enlist the police in an all-out effort to deal that old fox Lucchese a fatal blow. Seeing no hope of revenge on their own, they did everything they could, laying out all the evidence and intelligence they had on the Lucchese family's crimes, the distribution networks for all its illicit businesses, and everything else. Almost crazed, they volunteered information without sleeping or resting. Several judges and experts brought in by the police worked overtime, recording every word in detail.

It all swept through like a storm, reshaping the entire city. Chicago descended into greater chaos than the vendetta between the two Mafia families had caused. The Lucchese family kept killing Genovese members, even as it suffered retaliation from its enemies and severe blows from the police.

Within just a week, the Genovese family's members had either been killed, fled, or simply joined other Mafia organizations. After all, their leaders were already cooperating with the Earth Empire. There was no point in holding out any longer.

The Lucchese family's losses were even more disastrous. Almost all its underground businesses collapsed, and countless senior members went to prison, Sonny and Gava among them. Even Joseph Lucchese himself was invited down to the police station for tea and a chat, and only got out after posting several hundred thousand in bail. His own position was precarious. His mansion was now ringed with police, leaving him effectively under house arrest, though that had its advantages. With so many officers standing guard, he needn't fear retaliation from any diehard Genovese remnants. The situation would probably continue until his court hearing at the end of March.

...

March 23.

In the darkness of night, someone opened Joseph Lucchese's bedroom door and walked in.

Joseph woke instantly. He had been sleeping poorly for some time. Pulling the pistol from beside his pillow, he aimed at the figure in the darkness, still displaying the authority expected of a godfather. “Who are you?”

“Your consigliere, of course.” Dewitt switched on the light as he spoke. The spacious room lit up, revealing him in a sorry state, his clothes ragged, his face filthy and his hair disheveled.

“Weren't you...” Joseph said in surprise.

“Still in prison?” Dewitt interrupted. “Heh heh heh... Luckily, it was only a prison for ordinary people. With a little ingenuity, there's always a way out.” He went over to the minibar, took an open bottle of red wine from the cabinet, and swallowed a few mouthfuls without bothering with a glass. “Please forgive me for coming to see you in this state. I've only just escaped. I had to find something to disguise myself with on the way. Mm... Sorry, I really was a little thirsty.”

Joseph had no warm welcome for Dewitt. His face darkened. “Consultant, you bear full responsibility for things coming to this! All that talk about the Genovese family being no problem was bullshit! Look at the result! Your plans have all gone to hell!”

“No, I still have a plan. This time I broke out...” Dewitt began to explain.

But Joseph never heard him out. Suddenly, without any warning, the Lucchese godfather's head fell to the floor. The cut was as smooth as a mirror. Only after several seconds did blood spray out.

Dewitt stared, his eyes wide. Usually so conceited and composed, he could barely get a word out. “Wha...”

“You've made far too many mistakes. I can only declare the test a complete failure.” Mike's voice rang out. He entered through the doorway and walked slowly past Dewitt, rummaged for a while in the small refrigerator behind the bar, and took out a bottle of tomato juice. He half-filled a stemmed glass, then addressed Dewitt, who was already frozen in shock. “First, you've misunderstood ‘Consultant’ in every respect.

“Generally speaking, it's a job. But what you've been doing isn't remotely what a consultant should do, is it? Hmph... We'll get to that later.

“And ‘Consultant’ can also be a nickname, or an honorific. That's how most people think of it, and you probably thought so too before you started impersonating me. But you're all wrong.

“Gu Wen, which means ‘consultant,’ is my name. My surname is Gu, and my given name is one Chinese character, pronounced Wen. It's a Chinese name. That's all.”

Gu Wen drained the tomato juice from his glass and let out a long breath. “You're a terrible imitator. But before you die, I can give you one final lesson. What was it you called this sort of thing again? Oh... right. Intangible assets.”