Chapter 5 The Vendetta Begin

  $10, $20, $50, $100.

  There were bills of various denominations, all old notes. Hardy speculated that this money was form selling drugs, estimating around $5,000. He stuffed it directly into the coat pocket.

  In the cabinet, Hardy also found an exquisite box containing a brand new gold watch, marked as Rolex.

  This Rolex gold watch was a new model just released in 1945, entirely made of gold from the frame to the strap. It was the ancestor of Rolex gold watches, highly sought after upon release with a price tag exceeding $1,500 a true luxury item.

  Previously, at the town bar, a customer was bragging to a friend. Hardy happened to overhear and instantly recognized the watch.

  The watch was very new, with the packaging still intact, presumably, Cook hadn't been willing to wear it yet.

  He happened to need a new watch.

  The cash was for Bill, but he decided to consider the watch his own evening's haul.

  He pocketed the box.

  He didn't dare linger; there was too much commotion here. Surely someone would call the police, and they would arrive shortly.

  He tucked the gun into his waistband and quickly descended the stairs.

  He took his hat from the coat rack, lowered the brim, and left through the front door, passing under a street lamp and quickly disappearing into the darkness.

  About fifteen minutes after Hardy left, a police car arrived at the villa with sirens blaring. Three officers got out, cautiously approaching the front gate with guns drawn.

  They opened the gate, and the gruesome scene inside the villa shocked the police.

  The room was filled with blood, several bodies sprawled on the floor, and bullet holes covered the walls a clear indication of an intense gunfight.

  "Notify the FBI immediately. This is a major case!"

  By the time the FBI arrived, a crowd of reporters had gathered on the street, snapping photos of the interior.

  FBI agents conducted an on-site investigation, concluding that there was likely only one gunman involved. Other details remained unknown; no valuable leads were found.

  Inquiries with neighbors yielded nothing, it was after 1 a.m, and everyone was asleep.

  3:30 a.m.

  The authorities carried the bodies away, classifying the case as a Level One Major Homicide, then departed.

Riiing!

  The telephone in an apartment bedroom began to ring.

Click.

  The desk lamp turned on.

  Fred glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 3:30 a.m.

  Fred was in his forties, his face chiseled, exuding a mature and seasoned demeanor. He was the ostensible leader of the Austrian gang in Los Angeles, managing over two hundred gang members—a prominent figure in Los Angeles.

  The Austrian gang controlled several bustling neighborhoods in Los Angeles, operating three underground casinos, loan sharking, smuggling, and overseeing the liquor supply for five nightclubs and dozens of bars, generating annual profits of two to three million dollars.

  The phone continued to ring; Fred picked it up, hearing the voice of his second-in-command, Alan Payne:

  "I just received news that someone broke into Cook's house in the early hours and took out Cook and his five men."

  Fred was momentarily stunned.

  The previous evening, his men reported that one of their lower-ranked leaders, Bill, had been seriously injured by the Spanish gangster Cook during a collection; his fate was unknown.

  Fred inquired about the situation and even visited Bill in the hospital.

  By then, Hardy had already left.

  Upon returning, Fred discussed with several of his men, planning to check on Bill's condition the next day before deciding on further action.

  He hadn't anticipated such an event that night.

  "Who did it?" Fred asked.

  "I don't know."

  "You mean it wasn't our people?"

  "No, I've asked all our men, and they said they weren't involved."

  Fred grew even more puzzled. "If it wasn't our people, then who could it be? Do you have any other information?"

  "I learned from the police that the FBI investigated the scene and determined that there was only one shooter."

  Fred was mildly surprised. "One person took out Cook and six others?"

  "That's what the police are saying."

  He hung up the phone, staring at the wall in thought. If one person had indeed taken out Cook and his men, that person was undoubtedly skilled.

  But who was this person? What was his background?

  Fred's wife turned over, hugging him. "Fred, what's going on?"

  Fred kissed her hair. "Nothing, dear, just some small problems. Go back to sleep; we'll deal with it tomorrow."

  Dani clenched a cigar between his teeth, glaring at Cook's body, his face filled with anger.

  Dani was the boss of the Spanish gang in Los Angeles, known as "Red Dani." Dani was slightly overweight, in his fifties, but for a man, the fifties were the prime of life.

  Dani had been operating in Los Angeles for many years, with over a hundred men under him, controlling two districts and running bars, nightclubs, brothels, underground boxing arenas, gambling clubs, and most significantly, cocaine trafficking.

  Cook was one of Dani's more competent men, responsible for part of the drug trade, generating tens of thousands of dollars in profits each month.

  Now, one of his trusted men had become a corpse, which angered him greatly.

  "Who killed Cook?" Dani's hoarse voice asked.

  "It's likely the Austrian gang," said a middle-aged man behind Dani—his advisor, Bernstein.

  "The Austrian gang?" Dani frowned deeply.

  The Austrian gang was the largest force in Los Angeles, followed by the Irish, then the Spanish.

  Other factions included the Mexican, french, and small groups composed of Russians, Poles, and Swedish.

  "I just found out that Cook lost a lot of money at our casino recently and still owes us a large sum," Bernstein explained.

  "Yesterday, members of the Austrian gang came looking for Cook to collect their share. Cook intended to delay, which led to a conflict. Cook was high on coke and shot one of the Austrian gang's lower-ranked leaders in a fit of rage. That night, the attack occurred."

  Dani's face darkened considerably as he bit down hard on the cigar. After a long silence, he finally uttered, "Damn it."

  Leaving the morgue, Dani returned to his mansion with Bernstein. They lit cigars and poured whiskey.

  Dani contemplated for a moment, seemingly making a decision. He spoke in a low voice to Bernstein,

  "I want the Austrian gang taken care of!"

  In addition to loan sharking, gambling clubs, bars, nightclubs, brothels, and underground boxing venues, Red Dani's biggest income source was cocaine, bringing in nearly a million dollars a year—two or three times the profit of other ventures.

  His territory was small, while the Austrian gang controlled the largest area in Los Angeles. The Austrian gang strictly prohibited drug trafficking, providing an opportunity for Dany. He approached the Austrian gang leader, Fred, offering substantial profits as a split. Only then did the Austrian gang allow them to operate in their territory.

  For this, He had to give the Austrian's gang three to four hundred thousand dollars every year.

  Dani was always unhappy about this substantial protection fee.

  After hearing Dani's words, Bernstein was taken aback, frowning. "The Austrian gang is very powerful, we are no match for them."

  Dani sneered, "I've thought about it. We can cooperate with the Irish. We can even bring in the Mexicans, French, Russians, Poles, and sweedish. Let's all band together against the Austrian's. Sell more coke, make more money, and Not have to share with those Austrian bastards."

  "But the Austrian have the Italian Mafia backing them!"

  "The Mafia."

  Dani pondered for a moment.

  Today's Italian Mafia was undoubtedly dominant in the United States, but Dani seemed to have a plan.

  "So, we need to get the Irish on board. The Irish are strong enough to contend with the Mafia; they even named themselves 'White Hand' out of hatred towards the Italians."

  "The Mafia's main stronghold is on the East Coast, centered in New York, with outposts in Chicago, Detroit, Denver, Kansas City, and Philadelphia."

  "The Austrian gang is like a nail driven into the West Coast."

  Bernstein admitted that Dani was indeed a very clever man.

  Thinking it over, Bernstein felt that Dani's plan was indeed feasible, even if it didn't succeed, the losses wouldn't be too great.

  "How do you plan to proceed?"

  Dani exhaled a puff of cigar smoke, a smile playing on his face. "Bernstein, arrange a meeting with the Irish for me."

  "Sure, I'll set it up at daybreak."