Chapter 83 - Don't Doubt Me
Nathan Kaplan would go down in history as the "German spy who tried to blow up a ship at New York Harbor."
The Bureau of Investigation and NYPD focused their efforts on tracking down his collaborators, the missing labor slugger Weiss, and the woman who disappeared after being seen with Kaplan.
East 26th Street, Manhattan.
The short stretch between First Avenue and the East River is known as "Misery Lane."
Because Bellevue Hospital is nearby, the area draws the sick, alcoholics, and those struggling with mental illness.
There's also the "Charity Pier," which offers free bread and soup to the poor.
If the Tenement House was the symbol of poverty, Misery Lane was a symbol of utter despair and abandonment.
On this street stood a public lodging house built by New York City in 1909. It mostly housed the homeless and the forsaken—and it's where Alma, the woman the police were after, lived.
For days, Kale and Brian's teams had been taking turns watching her. "Watching," but in truth, they were just staying there together in the house.
When I arrived, Alma seemed to think I was just one of the members. She was feeding soup to her seven-year-old son, and didn't pay me any mind.
My eyes naturally drifted to her son's left hand. Just as I'd heard, his pinky and ring finger had been crudely severed.
Once the boy finished eating, I spoke up.
"Why did you come looking for me?"
Alma whipped her head around and stared at me.
She quickly scanned me up and down, her face registering surprise.
"That's not what I expected."
I wondered what she thought of me, especially after finding me hiding under the bed.
Anyway.
"Sean, Mommy's going out for a bit. Stay here and play with the mister, okay?"
"But... I'm scared..."
Brian scoffed at Sean, who was on the verge of tears.
"What's there to be scared of, kid? You were laughing and having fun just a minute ago."
"See, Mom? That mister is scary."
"Hey, I've got a friend who's a bear. Should I call him over? He'll gobble you right up—"
"Cut it out, man. Be nice and watch the kid with a smile, alright?"
Leaving Brian, who was pouting, behind, I went up to the rooftop with Alma. The biting winter wind curled around us.
"You're not a government agent, are you?"
"Do I really look like one?"
"No. I don't know how you managed to frame that bastard as a spy, but he probably couldn't rest in peace, even in death. It was truly satisfying."
Looking at Alma's smile, I was reminded again of just how terrifying a woman with a grudge could be.
"Did you want to see me just to say that?"
"No. I have a favor to ask."
"I'm not your errand boy or fixer."
"I know. I'm calling it a favor, but it's really something that wouldn't hurt you either."
Well, I should at least hear her out.
When I nodded, Alma glanced around and stepped a little closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.
"Did you find the money Dropper had?"
Cory had searched hard but came up empty-handed.
Of course, there was no safe in the motel, and his wallet only had about 30 dollars and some change.
Seeing my expression, Alma gave a knowing, faint smile, as if she had expected this.
"You wouldn't have found it. Dropper has another secret stash hidden away. That's why I'm asking… if I tell you where it is, can you share at least a little of it with me?"
When I didn't answer, Alma started to show her impatience.
"Even 20… no, I'd be fine with just 10%."
"It might end up being only 10 dollars. I could just lie, you know."
"That's fine. No matter what you say, a fool like me would probably believe it. And what does it matter if it's only ten dollars? It's still better than having to sleep with that bastard Dropper. Oh, not that I could do that now anyway. Regardless... ten dollars is a lot of money for me."
The weather was cold. Alma, lightly dressed, was shivering, her chapped lips trembling as she waited for my answer.
Alma made it sound like she was content with ten dollars, speaking without greed or self-pity, but I didn't take it at face value. I tried to read deeper meaning into it.
"How dangerous is this place that you'd settle for just ten dollars?"
When I pressed her with that question, Alma bit her lip slightly.
"...The money is in the hideout."
She kept the safe in a place where her underlings came and went? It's not as if anyone lives or sleeps there.
Besides, the hideout isn't attached to any business like a dance hall or casino.
According to Cory, Kaplan's hideout was simply a place where a dozen or so of his men gathered to play cards and drink.
And he kept the safe there?
"There's a secret spot even the underlings don't know about."
"But how did you know? Besides, I heard Dropper was only released from prison recently—when would he have had time to set up a place like that?"
"That hideout is the same place Johnny and Kaplan used seven years ago. The building actually belongs to the parents of our underling, Billy the Kid Lustig."
There were always underlings gathered at the hideout. Even if you knew the location, it would have been impossible for Alma to go in alone.
"And to be honest, I don't know the exact location myself. Even if there is a safe, I can't be sure there's actually any money inside."
It was all based on memories from seven years ago. Alma had no idea what might have changed since then. That's why she'd only asked for 10% in the first place.
"So there might not be a single penny?"
"No, I don't think so. The fact that he gathered all his men together as soon as he got out of prison means he must have a lot of money stashed there."
On top of that, right up until he was sent to prison, Kid Dropper had reportedly been pulling off all sorts of robberies and stacking up cash.
"In that case, let's make it 5%."
"Sure, that's fine. You'll be taking a risk too, after all. I'm just grateful you believed me in the first place."
Alma pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it over The address and a floor plan of the hideout were drawn on the paper, with three spots marked as likely locations for the safe.
"But how long are you going to keep watching me?"
"Until everything's over."
"I don't mind. Actually, I like it—at least I'm not getting hassled by other guys."
After Alma went home, I headed over to Bellevue Hospital where my uncle was staying.
The narrow street was littered with homeless people bundled up in blankets, sprawled out like silkworm cocoons. As I was trying to pass through, someone grabbed my foot.
"I haven't eaten in two days… just ten cents…"
There's a free soup kitchen nearby—so why go hungry for two days? I quietly pulled out my knife. The homeless man quickly let go of my foot and disappeared into his blanket.
There was a reason for pulling the knife. Empty liquor bottles were scattered all around him.
Whether he'd bought and downed all those drinks, or collected empty bottles to scrape together enough for a single shot, I couldn't tell. But I'd bet a dollar that if I gave him ten cents, he'd spend it on booze.
With my knife out, no one else dared to beg or grab at me as I walked.
Bellevue Hospital.
Before he left the hospital, I went to visit Uncle Larry in his room
When I opened the door and walked in, Larry, who was sitting on the bed, looked at me for a long moment. Instead of his usual look of contempt, his eyes welled up as he smiled.
"You're here, Ciaran."
A man and a woman were standing by the bedside; both of them looked me up and down in surprise.
"So you're Ciaran?"
"Oh my, you're so tall!"
I'd been eating well lately, so I'd grown even taller. If I measured myself, I'd probably be over 180 centimeters by now.
Anyway, who are you two? Seeing the look on my face, Uncle Larry gave a resigned smile and introduced them.
"You probably haven't met before—this is my eldest son, Stanley, and my second, Amy."
Stanley O'Connell, 23. Amy O'Connell, 21.
They have three younger siblings, though none of them were here.
"Ciaran, those people who saved Father that time—you said they were all your coworkers, right?"
"What kind of work do you do?"
I guess my cousins were curious, since we'd never met before.
"I manage a lingerie shop on Allen Street."
"A lingerie shop? Not even a factory, and you have that many coworkers?"
Yeah, isn't it strange?
Amy blinked, looking puzzled. Because the adults had cut ties with each other, none of us knew what the others were up to. She didn't even know that Mother ran a clothing factory company.
That's when the eldest, Stanley, handed me an envelope.
"Aunt Nora paid for Father's hospital bills, but that wasn't necessary. Take this and give it to your mother."
After a brief moment of hesitation, I decided to accept it.
Amy, perhaps unsure I'd handle it properly, spoke to me as if I were a child.
"You really have to give that to Mom, okay? I'll check later to make sure you did."
"Yeah, I'll definitely give it to her."
After leaving my cousins behind, I finally asked Uncle Larry how he was feeling.
"I'm actually planning to leave the hospital tomorrow. Thanks to you, I got good treatment and could rest without worry."
"What about work?"
"I won't be able to work for a while anyway."
Even though Weiss, who incited the strike, had disappeared, the protests were still going on. Branded a traitor, Uncle wouldn't be welcomed back—he'd be lucky if he wasn't beaten again.
"But, Uncle, do you not like strikes themselves?"
"What are you talking about? When your brother got hurt, no one was more passionate than I was about joining the strike."
Back then, there was a clear reason for striking. That's why I was out at the front, holding a picket and leading the protests.
"But this time was different. It was obvious that Kaplan got involved to stir up both the union and management just to make money. But who could've imagined that bastard was actually a German spy?"
Uncle Larry clicked his tongue in disbelief.
"Anyway, I'm thinking of finding a new job. I've worked at the harbor for far too long."
"Isn't it a bit of a shame to quit like this? I heard someone named Tanner Smith is getting involved."
"Tanner?"
He looked at me with wide eyes.
Up until now, the labor sluggers were dominated by Jewish and Italian groups. In that sense, the arrival of Tanner, an Irishman, was a welcome change.
"If it's Tanner… he's not bad."
Maybe I couldn't guess what he was really thinking, but Tanner always acted as a slugger on the side of the workers and never started a strike without a real cause. He was skilled at getting in, making his move, and pulling back at just the right time.
On the flip side, Tanner's weakness was that he couldn't be as cruel or ruthless as others. He couldn't fully exploit workers and management for profit through violence, which was supposed to be the whole point.
"But how do you know all this?"
"I just happened to hear about it. You should probably double-check it for yourself."
Tanner said he would fill Kaplan's shoes, but I have no idea when that will actually start or end.
Meanwhile, Stanley and Amy didn't seem to follow our conversation. It was a shame, but it seemed like they were in a completely different world from gangs or union strikes.
But why was that a shame? I should be glad that the family was living a normal life, rather than feeling like something was missing.
I smacked my lips and said my goodbyes.
"I'm heading out now. I probably won't be able to see you when you get discharged. Take care of yourself, and later…"
"Ciaran. Christmas is only a few days away."
Uncle looked at me quietly. His face was troubled as he gently spoke.
"I haven't told your mother yet, but… what do you think about everyone getting together this time?"
That was exactly what I wanted. I answered readily.
"I'm all for it. My siblings will love it, too."
"Then all we have to do is convince your stubborn mother. Though, that's probably the hardest job in the world."
Stubborn? Since when is Mom stubborn?
"Don't worry about Mom. Honestly, I'm more worried about the other uncles."
"That's all been settled already, so you don't need to worry. Anyway, make sure you tell your mother that your grandparents really want to see you all."
As I left the hospital room, Stanley and Amy followed me out.
"Make sure you convince Aunt Nora and bring her, okay?"
"Here, buy your siblings something tasty. See you next week, Ciaran."
Stanley handed me a dollar.
Is he making good money? I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to find out what he's doing these days. I decided to ask Mom about it and headed down to the first floor.
Before leaving the hospital, I veered off toward the prison ward.
To be honest, the real reason I came to Bellevue Hospital was to meet Hoover, not Uncle Larry. Alma's house was on the way, so I dropped by while I was at it.
When I arrived at the entrance to the prison ward, a police officer blocked my way.
"Civilians aren't allowed in."
"I have an appointment with Special Agent Edgar Hoover."
One of the officers went inside, and soon returned with Hoover in tow.
"Well, look who it is! Isn't this our hidden hero, Ciaran?"
"Why are you like this?"
"I'm just happy to see you."
The police officers looked at us suspiciously, but Hoover didn't care and led me into the ward.
"Thanks to you, things have been pretty crazy around here. The higher-ups are looking at me very differently now."
Hoover's attitude toward me had changed too.
That arrogant, condescending air was gone.
"By the way, Duquesne still isn't talking.
The doctors say he's paralyzed, but when he's hungry, he talks—barely enough to understand, anyway."
Hoover started explaining the investigation a bit more than necessary.
"Kaplan and Duquesne both received letters from the German Vice Consul in Nicaragua, but the two letters are different Duquesne's letter was handwritten, while Kaplan's was typed."
"I see."
"And the only thing Kaplan had was a newspaper clipping about Duquesne."
"So, in other words, there's no decisive evidence to prove their connection."
"That's right."
Hoover fixed me with an intense gaze. He clearly thought I knew something, or at least hoped I could help.
"Is it possible for me to meet Duquesne?"
"Alone?"
"Would he talk if an investigator was present?"
"What are you planning to talk about?"
"Shouldn't we try to coax some information out of Duquesne about other spies?"
I'll do it for you, Hoover. Of course, I might not get anything at all.
"Luckily, the other agents aren't around, so I'll give you exactly one minute."
"He's paralyzed, isn't he? One minute will probably pass before he gets a word out."
"Fine, five minutes. But that's the absolute limit."
Hoover took a deep breath, then led me to the hospital room where Duquesne was being kept I wonder how the nurses working here must feel.
We passed through the metal bars blocking the hallway, and the guard unlocked the door to Duquesne's guarded hospital room. Hoover and the guard waited outside while I went in alone to meet Duquesne.
Duquesne, paralyzed, lay twisted in bed. Pulling up my scarf, I approached and whispered into his ear.
"Cut the act, you bastard."
Duquesne didn't break his paralysis except for a tiny twitch.
That's fine—if he'd been so easily rattled, I would have been disappointed in him.
"Duquesne, don't doubt me. I've come to save you as a member of the German Empire."
"…Orderly."
Is this guy insane?
Hearing him curse through his warped mouth made me angrier.
I brought my lips right up to his ear. Information I learned from a documentary in my previous life. A secret of Duquesne's—one that absolutely no one in America could possibly know right now—I whispered it to him.
Strike demonstration by ILA workers