The Building Collapsed

There was no porridge to eat. Nair, living alone, saw his hope for a hot breakfast dashed. December in New York was already bitterly cold, and eating cold food in the morning was simply unbearable.

Left with no choice, he had to boil a kettle of water, warm up some milk, and soak bread in it to get by. He didn't even know when toasters had been invented—life was really tough.

After breakfast, with a newspaper under his arm, Nair kicked off and headed to the office. Without worrying about anything else, he first had the assistant girl in the pantry make a pot of hot coffee—with extra milk. Maybe it was really the cold weather, but people just craved sugary, high-calorie things. Nair dumped four sugar cubes into his coffee.

"Have you seen it?" Wilkie, unusually relaxed with his legs crossed, wore a triumphant smile.

"Yeah, I've seen it. Mr. Fiorello is quite the tactician," Nair replied, added another cube of sugar, stirred the drink—it was basically sugar water now, with all the milk and sugar in it.

"What do you think Tammany Hall will do in response?"

It was a topic they'd discussed plenty already, but Wilkie couldn't help asking again. The current police commissioner was as good as finished. Even if Fiorello promised not to go after him, the IRS agents would still make sure the charges stuck, so they could divide up the millions seized in the raids.

"They'll react today, no doubt. Let's wait and see." Nair took a big sip and finally felt human again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right..." Wilkie got up and started pacing around the office.

This mix of excitement and anticipation made it hard to sit still. Nair, though, was certain. He'd seen this coming—Tammany Hall was going to be crushed by Fiorello.

To be fair, Tammany Hall still had some strength at this point. Outsiders could see that. Even Republicans like Wilkie used to believe that a "starving camel is still bigger than a horse"—that Tammany Hall wouldn't go down that easily.

But the reality was, without a capable leader and full of internal scheming and infighting, when an external threat appeared, the first instinct wasn't to unite—it was to protect whatever meat they still had in their own bowls.

When most people think like that, even if someone inside wants to fight back, their efforts are weak and fruitless. That's just human nature—when the nest falls, no egg is left unbroken. Everyone understands that in theory, but when it's their turn, they suddenly can't see it. You can warn them, advise them, even plead with them—but they still won't listen. Throughout history, this has led to many downfalls.

And sure enough, by noon, there was still no reaction from the Democratic city government or Tammany Hall. Not even a public statement trying to distance themselves. It was a total collapse at the first attack.

They might not have been in a hurry, but Wilkie sure was. He did nothing all day but wait at the office for a response, and after sitting there for five hours with the enemy staying dead silent, he was losing it.

Knock knock knock. Suddenly, someone knocked at the door.

Both Nair and Wilkie turned their heads from the phone to the door. A familiar figure appeared—it was Taft.

"Looks like I came at just the right time," said Taft, judging from their expressions that they were anxiously awaiting news.

"What is it?" Wilkie jumped up and sat beside Taft, half leaning on him.

At a moment like this, what could Taft be bringing? Definitely news about how the Democratic city government or Tammany Hall was responding. But if Wilkie hadn't heard anything, how could Taft know more?

"Someone turned themselves in..." Taft said casually, taking a sip from the coffee Nair handed him.

"What?!" Nair and Wilkie exclaimed in unison. "Turned themselves in?! Seriously?!"

According to Taft, just at noon, an accountant from the City's Department of Public Works—formerly with Tammany Hall—went and turned himself in. He was just a low-ranking accountant; logically speaking, no matter how hard the Republicans came down, they wouldn't come for someone like him.

But he knew too much. After hearing about the police commissioner's arrest and feeling like someone was tailing him that morning, he freaked out.

It wasn't that he feared being caught—someone like him would get a short sentence, maybe a year at most. After that, he'd be fine. What scared him was that he might get silenced because of what he knew!

So after panicking in his office for a while, he ran to the authorities, demanding protection in exchange for spilling the beans. He also wanted to flee with a few grand he had secretly stashed.

How could they say no?

The prosecutors and IRS agents agreed immediately. They even told him that if he could lay out the whole black money network, they might recruit him into the IRS—and there'd be plenty of rewards.

With so many guarantees, the accountant spilled like a broken dam, naming several black money accounts. IRS agents, like wolves, stormed in to seize assets, while prosecutors mobilized teams to arrest the small fry he ratted out.

Of course, as a lowly accountant, he didn't have access to the Tammany Hall leadership—but even so, his testimony was enough to expose the massive corruption in the Democratic city government and show it to the public.

As for the accountant's family, Fiorello would make sure they were well protected—at least until the big shots in the city government were all brought down.

"I see..." Wilkie slumped back on the couch, the pieces finally falling into place.

"So, what about the courts?" Nair asked. He knew Taft had court-related updates.

"The New York State First Circuit and the Federal Second Circuit have already moved in," Taft nodded.

The implication was clear: since the case involved the New York City government itself, its own courts couldn't preside due to conflict of interest. The state and federal courts assigned to New York—well, those were run by old allies of Taft's grandfather and father. No problem there.

"In that case, nothing can go wrong." Nair smiled, stood up, stretched. The long day was finally over. Nothing too difficult should come next.

"Let's hope everything goes smoothly..." Wilkie said leisurely as he opened his filing cabinet—and pulled out a bottle of apple cider.