“Ha! Well now we know he’s alright with it, we can go ahead!”
I laugh. “Come on,” I say, walking back to the Winnebago. “Memory lane isn’t what it used to be.”
As I’m about to open the door, my old neighbor re-appears on the sidewalk, shouting my name.
“Adrian,” he says. “Hey, Adrian… I got somethin’ for ya.”
He walks over to us, out of breath, and hands me a small photograph. It’s from a Polaroid camera and shows a young man standing with a beautiful woman who’s holding a baby in her arms.
My eyes go wide and my mouth opens in shock as I look at the picture of me with my family, taken from a different time… a different life.
“I had this picture of you,” he explains. “I found it on the street when the police were searching your house, after they found them. I thought you might want it before you go.”
“Thank you,” I say, lost for words as I stare at the picture of everything I’ve lost.
“And just you remember,” the old man continues. “There’s that saying about a man on the road to vengeance digging two graves… You just watch yaself, ya hear?”
I look him in the eye.
“Only two? Jesus… you’re gonna need a lot more than that by the time I’m finished.”
22
Word had spread quickly of Johnny King’s demise. Jimmy Manhattan knew the few hours after his death were crucial. That was when panic set in and people instinctively looked for someone to turn to. When they found no one, that’s when the fighting would start. And by the time the dust had settled and the victor had emerged, enough would’ve been destroyed in the process that they ended up being in charge of nothing. He’d seen it in the past, and had learned from his time working with Roberto Pellaggio to know that it’s best to act swiftly and decisively.
Upon hearing King was found dead in his office, Manhattan immediately sent Tarantina and three other men to The Palace, to establish his presence and quash any concerns people there may have had. He had given Tarantina instructions to kill anyone who challenged their authority without hesitation.
As expected, it’d been necessary to make one or two examples, but the rest fell in line soon after. Tarantina had stayed at The Palace, organizing the newly acquired businesses and personnel. And that was that. Manhattan now completely ran Allentown without opposition, and after a few moments to allow everything he’d accomplished to soak in, he’d set to work figuring out how to get the rest of the state.
The first and most obvious hurdle to get over was the discovery that the rest of Pennsylvania was owned, and run, by a man named Wilson Trent. A quick look through King’s financial records had told Manhattan that he worked for Trent, laundering money through his nightclub for him.
Manhattan had done some digging and made some calls. It turned out that Wilson Trent wasn’t exactly a hard man to find out about. If you could think of an aspect of the city worth controlling, or an illegal enterprise worth starting, the chances are Trent did it years ago.
He’d actually heard the name many years prior, when Pellaggio was still completing his takeover of Nevada. Trent had always been a player, but he was never in the major leagues. It was only the last decade or so when he’d really come into power, and he’d done so in a big way.
It hadn’t taken long to get a good idea of how far and wide Trent’s reach stretched. But what was interesting was the discovery of Adrian Hell’s relationship with him. A former employee of Johnny King’s had proven most helpful in detailing why Trent was so irate that Adrian had re-surfaced on the East Coast after a prolonged absence. And the more Manhattan learned, the happier he became.
If he had one regret in life, it was hiring Adrian Hell for that job back in Heaven’s Valley. It made perfect sense to do so, given he was — and arguably still is — the best hitman money can buy, by a long way. But he was… different. He asked questions. He thought too much. It made him great at his job, but also a major pain in the ass for anyone hiring him. He’d hated him ever since, and the only memories that made him smile were the ones where he was causing that bastard pain.
He’d played the diplomat with him earlier in the day, as it was good for business, and it had proven a wise choice. Within three hours of giving him the contract, Johnny King was dead. Tarantina would be subtly leaking the fact they’d hired Adrian to do it, so everyone in the city now associated him with Manhattan. So now, he was untouchable. People would be too afraid to cross him, as they know he’d let Adrian Hell loose on them.
Or so they thought.
But by sheer coincidence — or fate, if you believed in such things — that relationship with Adrian had now put Manhattan firmly in the crosshairs of Trent, meaning both he and Adrian Hell now had a common enemy. His only viable option was approaching Trent as a businessman and appealing to his sense of enterprise. And Manhattan would be the first to admit, he didn’t like his chances of success.
Adrian Hell, however, wasn’t known for his diplomacy. From what he’d heard, he seemed intent on tearing the world apart for an opportunity to kill Trent, and justifiably so.
Like a chessboard, Manhattan was positioning all the pieces, ready for his final assault on the king. He knew that if he played things just right, he could almost help Adrian take out Trent — which he’d figured was the favor he’d mentioned to him that morning over breakfast. But he’d need to do it in such a way that he was also setting him up at the same time, so when Trent was gone, Manhattan could step in, take out Adrian, and take control of the throne of Pennsylvania.
He could see it all so clearly in his mind. His trick over the years had been to start with the endgame and work backward, looking at every possible scenario that could’ve come before, and what preceded that… and so on, until in the end he was left with the perfect place to start.
He had a pretty good idea of what path Trent would take, as they were very similar people. And he’d had vast experience with Adrian’s frame of mind, and coupled with what he assumed he would be feeling at the moment, he was predictable to the point where he almost felt sorry for him. He wondered how long it would take Adrian to tell him about the link to Wilson Trent. He must be aware of it himself by now, and the fact he’s not been in touch already to discuss it just proved he couldn’t be trusted. All the more reason to make sure he’s taken out of the picture once and for all.
Manhattan was sitting at a table in The Carrington’s restaurant, eating a lobster salad and drinking a glass of champagne. He couldn’t help smiling to himself at how well things had fallen into place. And, more to the point, how much better he was doing now he was in charge, and not taking orders from someone else.
His phone rang, interrupting his musings.
“Yes?” he said as he answered.
“It’s me,” replied Tarantina. “Just wanted to let you know everything’s in order over here. I’ve given the books to our accountant, who’s distributing our new funds accordingly across our businesses. Some of the new recruits are asking questions, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“That’s excellent news, Paulie. You’ve done very well today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manhattan. You ain’t done so bad yourself. How’s it feel owning the city?”
He paused to take another sip of champagne.
“It’s but a small step on a much longer road,” he said. “But today we can celebrate.”
“Drinks are on you, Boss.”
Manhattan smiled and hung up, before resuming his meal.
23