Chapter 50 - Getting a Building for Free
The key to "getting a building for free" is sowing discord.
The targets are the building owner, Rosie Hertz, and the tenant, Jacob Reich.
Another axis of manipulation is between Jacob Reich and the Italian gang threatening him.
The first step for this plan to succeed was to attack Jacob Reich's brothel, stir up his anger, and heighten his sense of danger.
This was absolutely necessary to direct Jacob's rage toward Rosie Hertz, and Tanner was put in charge of it.
"The building's been sold?!"
An agitated Jacob shot to his feet, dropping the towel that had been covering his privates onto the floor.
"Nonsense! This is the first I've heard of it."
"Well, now you've heard. Sit down and stop flailing around."
"You crazy bastard. Who the hell do you think you are, mouthing off to me like that?"
Tanner scowled, glaring at Jacob.
His voice was as cold as if he might kill him at any moment.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that. Even Monk Eastman never talked to me like that."
"Living in the past, are we? Why are you bringing up ancient history..."
"If you've forgotten, let's make some new memories. Jacob, butchered in his own bathhouse. That one, you'll never forget."
Jacob's eye twitched as he met Tanner's icy stare.
Tanner Smith, Boss of the Marginals Gang.
But the Tanner Jacob remembered was from even further back—the runaway locomotive who tore around Hell's Kitchen like a madman in his teens.
Ten years ago, there was a famous duo who stormed all over Manhattan.
Tanner Smith and Oweny Madden.
The two ran clubs together, assaulted police, and committed all sorts of crimes as partners in crime and inseparable friends.
After repeated stints in prison, they became the center of their own groups, and before long— Tanner Smith had become the boss of the Marginals, while Oweny Madden, although now dissolved, once led the Gopher Gang with over 500 men.
So, strictly speaking, Jacob, who had been a member of the Eastman Gang, was not in the same league as Tanner.
Even if his glory days were in the past, Tanner was still a dangerous man.
Trying to appear unbothered, Jacob sat down.
"So, what's your reason for showing up out of nowhere and saying all this?"
"It was just a chance meeting. Since I ran into you, I figured I'd give you a warning."
"A warning? What warning?"
Tanner lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"Rosie Hertz has hired a gang. She even made an offer to the Marginals, but we turned her down. Why else would someone come all the way to Hell's Kitchen?"
No gang on the Lower East Side would help Rosie Hertz, who's past her prime.
Was that why they'd gone all the way out to Hell's Kitchen? Jacob's face turned bright red.
"That old hag must really have a death wish."
Just as a murderous gleam filled Jacob's eyes, a fully dressed man burst into the bathhouse.
"The shop's been attacked!"
"What!?"
His expression hardening, Jacob hurried to put on his clothes.
As he dressed, he asked Tanner,
"Is it the gang Rosie Hertz hired?"
"Probably? Or maybe she made some kind of deal for the building."
"Fuck…"
Jacob shot Tanner a fierce glare, then stormed out of the bathhouse.
"That bastard acts tough for someone who's about to die."
Tanner leisurely slipped into the water and submerged himself.
***
At the same time, 137 Allen Street, nearby. Two shoeshiners sat across from the building owned by Rosie Hertz.
"Jacob just left the public bathhouse."
"He's headed underground. So, what happens next?"
The shoeshiners ignored their customers, keeping their eyes fixed on just one person.
They were Leo and Marcus, keeping watch over the underground salon and Jacob.
"I'm telling you, the Italians are definitely going to attack."
"No, no, Jacob's going to make a move first. He'll be so worked up that he'll go straight for Rosie Hertz."
If the Italians struck first, Leo would win; if Jacob made his move, Marcus would. The two kept watch on the building, making a bet out of it.
***
Office of the Italian gang's casino on Hester Street.
Once again, Pascifico eyed his men, who had been thoroughly shaken down for protection money, and gripped an iron pipe in his hand. But just as he was about to bring it down, someone blurted something unexpected.
"137 Allen Street? You believe that?"
"You really think they'll welcome us with open arms at an address so kindly handed over by the bastards who double-crossed us?"
"…"
As the men fell silent and hung their heads, Pacifico's right-hand man interjected.
"Either way, we should at least check out what's at that address—trap or not. We need to see what kind of game they're playing, right?"
After a moment's thought, Pacifico pointed at one of his men.
"You go. Find out who's trying to mess with us and report back!"
Pacifico, ever cautious, sent only one man.
In the end, Marcus won the bet.
The Italian gang couldn't figure out who had come and gone, and it wasn't until evening that Jacob finally stormed out of the shop, looking furious.
"Hand over the dollar."
"Damn it. Here you go."
Leo pouted as he handed Marcus the dollar.
"Let's follow Jacob for now."
Walking along Hester Street, Jacob caught a carriage.
"To Gramercy Park."
That's the neighborhood where Rosie Hertz's house is located.
Now that they knew where the furious Jacob was headed, they had to let someone know.
Leo and Marcus immediately made their way to a pharmacy that had a payphone.
Since public telephones had been introduced in the early 1880s, AT&T had now installed more than 30,000 payphones throughout New York City.
Most were located in pharmacies, hotels, or subway stations, and for five cents, you could talk for three minutes.
There was a decent line of people waiting to use the payphone in front of the pharmacy.
After waiting, it was finally Marcus's turn. As he picked up the receiver, the voice of a young female operator came through.
New York Bell Telephone Company. How may I assist you?
"Please connect me to STUYVESANT-4789."
As the operator's hand darted across the large switchboard, connecting the cables, there were audible clicks accompanied by a faint electrical hum.
The line at Union Square station is currently busy. Please hold for a moment.
Suddenly feeling anxious, Marcus glanced over his shoulder. There were only two people waiting, but their sharp stares were intimidating.
What felt like an hour passed in just two minutes before a voice finally came through the receiver.
Connection to Union Square subway station established. You have three minutes. When your time is up, you'll hear a bell.
***
Union Square subway station Right after causing a scene at the Allen Street brothel, the three members of the Union gang moved to the subway station.
Their mission was to wait for a phone call that could come at any moment.
To keep others from using it, all three of them stood guard around the phone, putting on menacing faces.
Then—
"What's with these punks?"
"Oh, officers! We saved this spot just for you."
"You guys are real comedians."
The police took the phone away for a moment.
Anxiously, the Union members stared at the backs of the officers' heads, waiting for them to hang up.
And finally, when the officers hung up the receiver and left—
The metal bell attached to the payphone rang. Inside, two hammers alternated, striking to make a sound.
Ding! Ding!
"It's here! I'll get it!"
He grabbed the phone in a rush, and Marcus's voice came through the receiver.
—He left about ten minutes ago.
"Really?"
—Yes. Well then...
"Hey, since we spent 5 cents, let's stay on the line a little longer. Have you eaten dinner yet?"
—Why would I want to talk to a guy...
"Come on, you never know when we might get another call, so as long as we've got the receiver, let's have a nice chat..."
Click.
"Are you crazy? We don't have time for this, man. Hang up."
"Let's talk again later~."
The group hurriedly left the subway transfer station.
Outside, a truck modified from a Ford Model T, sourced by Tanner, was waiting for them with a driver.
The driver was Drift, the only member of the Union gang who could drive.
"Hold on tight!"
Put-put-put-put.
***
About two hours earlier.
Accompanied by my mother, the real estate agent, and Cory, I went to see Rosie Hertz.
"Maybe because this is near the neighborhoods where the upper class lives, but it's so quiet and there are lots of fancy mansions."
"See over there? Around Gramercy Park, you can see the iron fences, right? Unless you're a resident, you can't even go in there. Those brownstone buildings are probably the most expensive homes in Manhattan."
Gramercy Park had fenced off its residences, marking a clear division of class. Maybe finding it fascinating, my mother kept glancing around. But as the sun set and it started getting dark, there wasn't much left to see.
"But Ciaran, isn't it getting a bit late? It's not like signing the contract is so urgent."
"What if someone else buys it?"
Most importantly, it would be a problem if the money ended up in the bank. At the very least, tonight I had to keep the payment for the building at Rosie Hertz's house.
Since Rosie Hertz's family gathered on weekends, I avoided those days. For various reasons, an evening when I couldn't go to the bank was ideal.
Not knowing any of this, the real estate agent sided with me.
"That's right, Mrs. Graves. And you should really buy a building when you're in the mood for it. Sure, it's made my work day run long, but what does that matter?"
There was a hint of reluctance in his voice, but his smile was bright. That smile was genuine. After all, just think of the commission he was about to earn.
After passing the intersection and following a narrow road barely wide enough for a car, we stopped in front of a mansion. It was an elegant two-story house.
"Mrs. Hertz! We're from Morris Real Estate on Hester Street!"
A short while later, an elderly woman appeared, dressed in a black velvet dress with a white apron. This was Rosie Hertz, who had become a widow two years ago when the husband she had once run a brothel with passed away.
"What brings you here so late?"
"I have good news. Mrs. Graves here wants to sign the contract for the buildings on Allen Street. Both of them!"
"Hm?"
Rosie Hertz's expression brightened as she opened the door. Her fingers glittered with rings studded with gold and diamonds.
The interior of the house was as lavish as Rosie Hertz's jewelry. The high-end furniture and the leather sofa looked so expensive that it felt intimidating just to sit down.
The living room alone was as spacious as if five Tenement Houses had been merged together.
Perhaps because of this, my mother, trying her best to appear composed, seemed smaller than usual.
No sooner had we sat on the sofa than the real estate agent thrust the contracts in front of us.
"$8,000 for 138th Address, $6,000 for 137th Address. That adds up to $14,000..."
Both parties have to pay a $300 commission fee. Rosie Hertz nodded without a word and urged us to hurry up and sign.
That's when I spoke up.
"Could you lower the price on the building on the left? It looked like there were some issues with it."
Her expression said, Who are you to butt in?
Clearly not wanting to talk to me, Rosie Hertz glanced back down at the documents.
Seeing this, my mother, feeling slighted, spoke up.
"We only decided to go ahead with this because my son took a liking to it. This is a bit off-putting, isn't it?"
"Your son?"
"He's my eldest. Handsome and tall, isn't he?"
Rosie Hertz gave a strange look, maybe even a smirk, and eyed my mother up and down before pursing her lips.
"Thirty dollars. That should be enough to buy a few outfits like what you're wearing now."
I grabbed my mother's hand just as she was about to flare up in indignation.
"I'm satisfied with that."
"You're wiser than you look."
"Oh, really…"
From that moment on, my mother folded her arms, crossed her legs, and leaned back against the sofa, as if she couldn't care less about the contract anymore.
Now that I think about it, my mother was quite a proud woman herself. Or maybe she already knew what kind of person Rosie Hertz was.
After that, Rosie Hertz seemed almost pleased by how things had turned out and spoke only with the real estate agent.
"The money will be paid in cash, all at once, right?"
"Of course. We'll hand it over right away. You know I get things done properly."
"Sounds good. I'll have to entrust you with some other things in the future."
"Oh, that would be my pleasure."
The real estate agent was grinning from ear to ear. Even though he knew exactly who Rosie Hertz was and how she had amassed her fortune, this is how he acted.
Of course, I didn't mean to blame him for it.
Everyone has their own business to run.
The same goes for Cory.
"I'm feeling a bit lightheaded all of a sudden I'll step outside for a bit"
No one paid any attention as Cory opened the front door and left.
A little later, just before the final signatures, Rosie pulled a bundle of cash out of a small bag.
Even my mother, who had been pretending not to care, had her eyes drawn to the stack of money at that moment. When the cash passed into Rosie Hertz's hands, I heard a faint sigh of regret escape her.
Considering my mother's shocked expression and how she'd practically jumped up and down when she first saw the money, that reaction was understandable. Besides, she still hadn't even seen the building.
With the settlement neatly finished, she finally became a building owner.
But my mother still looked sullen. Even when she offered empty pleasantries, she didn't bother to look at Rosie Hertz.
Clunk.
The door closed, and the real estate agent, now turning around, glanced about the room.
"That friend who came with us—where'd he go?"
"Probably off looking for a good restaurant or something. He'll be back on his own."
Not thinking much of it, the real estate agent turned a bright smile toward my mother.
"Congratulations on becoming a building owner."
"Well, I don't know. It hasn't really sunk in yet."
"Once the renovations are all done and you move in, I'm sure you'll feel it"
The real estate agent grinned good-naturedly and said he would personally hail us a carriage as a complimentary service.
I had planned to send my mother home by carriage anyway, so this worked out well. When someone pockets hundreds of dollars in commission, that's the least they can do.
"I'm going to stop by Macy's Department Store."
"At this hour?"
"I've got things to buy. Since I've come all the way out here, might as well check it out."
"Should I come with you?"
"It's getting late. Let's go together on the weekend."
I nudged my mother, who looked a bit disappointed, and sent her off in the carriage with the real estate agent.
The Lamp Post Manager began lighting up the street as it grew darker.
I'd expected Jacob, the brothel owner, to show up around the time we were signing the contract. Still no word from him. If only everything went according to schedule.
Just as I was about to turn back, a Ford Model T chugged to a stop right in front of me. Inside were members of the Union who had been waiting for word in Union Square.
"Jacob will be here soon."
The modified vehicle was more makeshift than a police van used to transport prisoners, but spacious enough for four people. We climbed in and headed to the location we'd staked out in advance.
Near Rosie Hertz's house.
A spot just out of reach of the streetlights. We parked the car in an alleyway where a vehicle could fit.
It was a hassle to restart the car, but we turned off the engine to silence the loud motor.
The alley was so dark, you couldn't even tell there was a car parked there.
We each split up to our designated positions and waited for Jacob to arrive.
A streetlamp flickered, on and off, from a faulty connection.
A lone shadow grew long as it approached, then shrank again.
That was Jacob.
There was a reason I'd chosen a spot near the wealthy residences as the site for what was about to happen.
Gramercy Park and its surrounding area, unlike the Lower East Side, are quiet at night. Past a certain hour, the lights gradually fade, and the surrounding streets sink into deep silence.
That also means even small disturbances are impossible to miss. If Jacob, driven by rage, banged on the door or started shouting, people would have no choice but to hear it.
If that happened, we could easily frame Jacob as Rosie Hertz's murderer. But there was another option open to him.
For instance, he might try sneaking over the wall to slip into the mansion and threaten Rosie directly.
I took precautions to eliminate those possibilities As Jacob walked past the alley with the car—
I reached out from the darkness, grabbed him, and stabbed him in the neck with a knife at the same time.
Squelch.
Gavin, who was behind me, helped lift Jacob's limp body with me.
We loaded him into the back of the vehicle, and then Drift and Gavin quickly wrapped the corpse up like a roll of fabric.
Drift hurried to the driver's seat, pulled the lever to his left, and turned the ignition switch to 'ON'.
He reached under the steering wheel, pulled the choke to pump the fuel.
Then he moved to the front of the vehicle, crouched by the bumper, and started cranking the handle below in a frenzy, turning it clockwise.
Rattle... rattle... rattle-rattle.
It was my first time seeing a Model T start up.
Honestly, it was just like a tractor.
Once the engine started, Drift and Gavin jumped back in the car.
At my signal, the vehicle pulled out of the alley and disappeared east down East 13th Street.
Wondering if there might have been any witnesses, I stayed in the alley for more than ten minutes.
I wasn't just standing there—I covered and scrubbed away any traces of blood that may have dripped onto the ground, using dirt to conceal them.
After some time had passed, I made my way toward Rosie Hertz's house and climbed over the wall