"Oh, and one more thing—this is my personal payment for your writing."
Leo looked down. On the slip of paper handed to him by Father Lesterwyn was a name and a phone number.
"What's this?"
"The chairman of the railroad company, Elvin.
When you're in trouble, call him."
"Father?"
Leo looked at Lesterwyn in surprise.
"There are no secrets in Richmond."
"You can't go in! We're closed to visitors this morning."
Seven or eight brawny men in railroad uniforms, holding wrenches, were blocking the gate to the railway company's lumber yard.
Behind Leo, a long line of truck drivers he had hired leaned out of their cabs, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, watching the scene unfold.
One driver shouted at the workers,
"Why aren't you letting our boss in?"
"No idea. Orders from the top."
The railway workers' attitude angered Emily and Desmond.
If Leo hadn't stopped him, Desmond—ever the good man—was ready to start throwing punches. The commandment was not to kill, not that you couldn't fight.
Leo had his reasons for stopping him. Across the street, two police cars were parked quietly.
He stepped forward, casually slinging his arm around the foreman's shoulder, and pulled him aside. From his pocket, he drew out several hundred dollars.
"Brother, it's a hot day. Why not take the boys for some cold beer?"
The foreman looked at the money, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Then, he sighed.
"Sir, I can't lose my job over a drink."
"Okay, different question then—who ordered you to block the yard?"
"Lasseter. He's a shareholder in Norfolk & Railroad Co."
"Thank you. It's yours now."
Leo stuffed the cash into the man's pocket, turned around, and walked to the phone booth on the corner. He dialed the number Lesterwyn had given him.
"Hello, this is—"
Before he could finish, the voice on the other end cut in.
"I want five percent. You understand?"
"I do, sir."
"Good. I'll speak to Lasseter."
"The lumber has been removed," said Douglas, the butler, in a luxurious Richmond mansion.
"So the Gurion family's plan failed?"
Governor Clint frowned.
"That's correct."
"Anything from the court?"
Douglas shook his head.
"The contract was written with too much confidence. The clauses aimed at the Brown Lumber Yard are now shackling us.
Dragging this out would only give your enemies more ammunition."
Clint sighed.
"That's the Jewish style—arrogant, selfish, never leaving themselves a way out.
Tell Sullivan—they're covering the million."
"Should I inform Eddie? After all, it was your son who pushed this deal as Lando Construction's chairman."
"No need. He could use a good failure to cool his head."
Meanwhile, in the Jewish district of Richmond—home of the Gurion family, which had stood in Virginia for a hundred years...
"I understand, Douglas. Tell the governor not to worry about the money. I'll handle it."
Sullivan, head of the Gurion family, hung up the phone and turned to his eldest son, Herbert, who stood respectfully.
"Go clean up your brother's mess.
Once it's over, send him to Cuba with Heim Ross."
"Yes, Father. But... the million dollars?"
"Don't worry. The Meyer family's roots in Lynchburg run deep. Scraping together a million won't be hard.
Besides, do what you do best.
The Gurion family never loses."
After relocating the lumber to another yard with Desmond's help, Leo headed straight to the Tucson Law Office—a tiny two-story building.
"I'm impressed by your services, but I didn't expect your working conditions to be this... terrible.
Can this dump really bring in business?"
Piles of messy paperwork covered the ten-square-meter office sofa. Leo had to awkwardly clear a spot to sit.
In contrast to the disorganized surroundings, Tucson himself was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Valentino.
As you can see, I'm busy. Say what you need."
"I've got a lawsuit that's guaranteed to win. Interested?"
Leo smiled.
Tucson stared deeply at him.
"There are no guaranteed wins. This is America. Winning depends on the price."
Leo placed a thick folder in front of him—contracts between Brown Lumber and Lando Construction, a timeline of events, and delivery documents.
Without even glancing at them, Tucson raised his hand and said:
"Consultation. $100 per hour. Thank you."
Leo, prepared, paid promptly.
Tucson scanned the documents quickly.
"This isn't really a lawsuit.
With Clint's current posture, he won't get involved.
Just deliver the lumber to Lando Construction, and it'll all be over."
"You know about the connection between Lando and Governor Clint?" Leo asked.
"There are no secrets in Richmond.
Besides—what do you think got me stuck in this dump?"
Leo's eyes lit up.
"You've got a grudge against the governor?"
"Want to hear it?
$1,000—I'll tell you the whole story. You might enjoy it."
Still no expression on Tucson's face.
"That's steep. But since you know these people well—come with me to the delivery tomorrow. I may need your legal expertise."
"$5,000."
"Why so much?"
"That's the rate, Mr. Valentino.
Trust me—there's no one else in Richmond who'll take this case.
Your opponent seems to be Lando Construction,
but anyone here knows that these things are usually handled by the Gurion family.
And they're the governor's closest business partners.
Mr. Valentino, surely you're not so naïve as to think you can easily extract money from the century-old Gurion family, whose motto is 'We Never Lose.'"
Leo had heard of Governor Clint—but the Gurion family behind him was entirely new.
"How do I know you're not bluffing me?"
Leo's microexpression skills told him Tucson wasn't lying. Still, microexpressions weren't foolproof. He needed to test the waters.
"You don't.
You either trust me—or take the door to the left."
Tucson's bluntness didn't offend Leo—on the contrary, he appreciated it.
As for being money-driven—Leo thought, For a man, loving money isn't a flaw—it's ambition.
"Alright. You've got a deal."
No sooner had he spoken than a contract slid across the table.
"The Gurion family has two next-generation heirs: Herbert and Ben."
At the mention of Herbert, Tucson's eternally frozen expression shifted slightly—just a flicker of pain. But Leo noticed.
Clearly, Herbert was the reason for Tucson's downfall.
"Herbert is practically the perfect successor—
He knows the old-school ways of making money,
but he's also daring and cunning, always skirting the line of legality."
"Oh? Like what?" Leo asked, serious.
"Like... everything.
There's nothing he won't do."