It was another night, and Tony Wendis once again arrived at the chicken farm.
"Any news from Joe?" Tony Wendis asked the doorman.
"No, sir. He hasn't shown up since that day," the doorman shook his head and then asked, "Are you here for Mary and Nancy again tonight?"
Hearing that Joe still hadn't appeared, Tony Wendis frowned. They had agreed to complete the first step within three days.
But now it was already the fourth day, and there was no sign of him.
Could that guy have skipped town?
That didn't seem likely—although he had paid some money, apart from the $200 for expenses, the other $1,000 had gone directly to Scarpa of the Moretti Mafia family.
The rest of the large payment hadn't been made yet; it wouldn't make sense for the guy to disappear halfway.
Could something have gone wrong?
Thinking back to his wife's recent behavior—aside from one night she didn't come home and not allowing him into the bedroom—there hadn't been anything too unusual. She even seemed a little calmer and hadn't brought up divorce again.
That was a good thing—it meant he didn't need to act so hastily.
"Sir? Shall I call Mary and Nancy for you?" Seeing Tony Wendis lost in thought, the doorman reminded him again.
"Oh, no. That can wait. Is Brian here?" Tony Wendis waved him off and asked.
"Boss Brian is in the back," the doorman nodded.
"Same old room, get me a bottle of whiskey, and have Brian come over," Tony Wendis ordered, handing over a $10 tip.
"Alright, I'll have it arranged right away!" The doorman beamed as he walked off. Even though this was Chicago's biggest chicken farm, big spenders like Tony Wendis were still rare.
Soon, Tony Wendis was in a private room, waiting for Brian—a fierce-looking Irishman.
"Good evening, Tony, my man! Looking for me?" Brian greeted him with a wide grin.
Who the hell is your man? You think you're worthy?
"Yes, Mr. Brian. Do you remember Joe Barbaro, the guy you vouched for the other day?" Tony Wendis suppressed his disgust and kept a calm face.
"Oh, of course. That stinky little Italian fatty. You had me vouch for him. What? He screwed up? I told you—you want something done, come to me. Those Italians are completely unreliable!" Brian said loudly, full of disdain and contempt for Italians.
"Maybe you're right, but I'm not letting this slide. He's gone missing. I need you to help me find him. This is your compensation," Tony Wendis said, putting an envelope on the table.
Tony Wendis was of pure English descent, and he disliked the Irishman in front of him even more than he did Italians.
Equality? It was just a slogan. Since the founding of this country, real equality had never existed.
The English discriminated against the Irish.
The Germans discriminated against the French.
The French discriminated against the Italians.
Everyone discriminated against each other.
And then all white people discriminated against people of color.
"Hahaha, Mr. Wendis, you're too generous. I'll make arrangements right away. As soon as I find that little fatty, I'll bring him straight to you," Brian laughed heartily after checking the envelope's contents. But the scar on his face made his smile even more menacing.
"Go," Tony Wendis said impatiently, waving him off.
Brian didn't mind. Guys like him grew up in environments full of discrimination. A little rudeness didn't bother them—so long as they got paid, they didn't care about anything else.
After Brian left, Tony Wendis finally called in the two girls to indulge himself.
He stayed until early morning before leaving.
Not because he couldn't spend the night there, but because Tony Wendis was something of a public figure. If he left during the day and got seen, it wouldn't look good.
So he usually left in the early hours when there were fewer people around, rarely spending the night.
What he didn't know was that his routine made things easy for Josh.
Josh had been following the guy for two days.
He planned to take out Tony Wendis just like he had with Joe Barbaro but unlike last time, in two days Tony Wendis had shown no sign of leaving the city.
Margot's estate was in the north district—quiet, but still within Chicago city limits, not like Evanston with its long stretches of desolate countryside.
And as a standard rich neighborhood, police patrols were frequent.
If Josh made a move at a regular hour and got chased by police, it would be hard to get away clean like last time, so Josh hadn't found an opportunity.
But the early morning was different.
At that time, with the cold weather, no one came out unless there was an emergency.
Chicago cops made just $200 a month—risking their lives was one thing, but coming out in the freezing night? No thanks.
So at that hour, if you wanted to do something illegal, your worry wasn't the police—it was running into the mafia. That time of night belonged to the gangs.
Of course, "mafia" here meant all gangs in general, not just Italians.
Tony Wendis, drunk and starting his car, had no idea he was being followed.
It was actually the doorman who noticed a car trailing after Tony's but didn't think much of it. Maybe just a coincidence?
"None of my business" was the golden rule in their line of work.
Too much curiosity and you might end up in Lake Michigan feeding the fish...One of the top ten scariest lakes in the world, with countless lives disappearing into it every year for various reasons.
Driving slowly behind Tony Wendis, Josh didn't strike immediately.
Even at dawn, the farm area was still fairly active, and making a move would attract too much attention.
But a little farther ahead was a small park, with no buildings or people around—a perfect spot.
However before they reached it, something unexpected happened.
At an intersection, Josh watched as Tony Wendis suddenly hit the gas and crashed into a parked car on the roadside.
Josh: ...
See? This is what happens when you drink and drive.
But in the U.S., DUI laws wouldn't come into play until the 1970s—in the 1940s, it wasn't even illegal.
Still, because of the crash, Josh probably couldn't make his move.
Just as he was driving past the accident to leave—
Something changed...
Because in his rearview mirror, Josh saw four men in cheap suits get out of the car that had been hit, cursing as they did.
Clearly, they hadn't parked there by chance—they were lying in wait.
At this hour, lurking by the roadside...
Josh began to speculate.
Calmly turning at the next corner, he parked, put on a mask and gloves, stored his car in the system warehouse, and circled back on foot.
By the time he returned, Tony Wendis had already been dragged out of the car and was being beaten on the roadside by the four men.
After a brutal round of punching, the four finally seemed satisfied.
They searched Tony Wendis and took his wallet, watch, and other belongings before heading back to their car.
But after a few failed attempts to start it, they cursed and got back out.
Turns out their car wouldn't start after the crash.
One of them quickly turned his eyes to Tony Wendis' car.
He tried it, but soon got out again—it was busted too.
Furious, the four men gave Tony Wendis another savage kicking before grabbing some things from their trunk and leaving.
Despite the distance, Josh clearly saw what they grabbed—guns...
Looking not far ahead...
Sure enough, a high-end jewelry store.
What else could Josh say?
Just that Tony Wendis was damned unlucky—those four were clearly staking out the jewelry store but before they could act, he crashed into them.
As for why they gave up, that was obvious.
With no working car, they couldn't carry much loot. If the alarm went off, they couldn't even run.
Not giving up would mean waiting to get shot or jailed.
Once the four had fully left and no one else had passed by, Tony Wendis lay motionless by the roadside, his condition unknown.
Josh finally stepped out of the shadows and walked over to him.
He took a look—unconscious but still breathing, not dead.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Tony's hair and slammed his head hard into the ground.
The thud of his skull hitting the pavement rang clear in the silent night.
Just one slam. Without checking if he was dead, Josh immediately left the scene. Once he was far away, he pulled out his car and quietly drove off.
Even if Tony Wendis didn't completely disappear, Josh was confident—no surveillance, no witnesses, no fingerprints, no weapon, no blood—there was no way 1940s cops could trace it back to him.
Most likely, they'd pin it on those four guys.
A car accident followed by a fight ending in death—completely plausible. What's that got to do with Josh Kane?
Besides, those four were planning a robbery—they definitely weren't clean. Not using them as scapegoats would feel like a waste.
He'd even have Margot apply some pressure as the grieving widow.
Given how corrupt the Chicago police were in those days, they'd rather close the case quickly and move on.
No way would they connect it to Josh.
So yeah—never drink and drive. Look how much effort it saved Josh.
Of course, if that heavy blow didn't kill Tony Wendis...
Then the guy just had incredible luck.
And if that were the case, Josh wouldn't mind taking a little extra effort to make him disappear for good.