Join a gang?
León fell silent. He had been in this world for almost a month. His original goal had been to work hard in business.
Using the memories of his previous life to seize one opportunity after another, he had believed he could succeed.
But gradually he had realised that was still a bit of wishful thinking.
Barcelona today was chaotic and lawless, and for a lad from across the Pyrenees with no foundation at all, it was very hard to get started.
Capital, contacts, the unwritten rules, connections with officials.
Any one of them was a huge hurdle, a hand round your throat.
And after you'd suffered your way through and made progress, you might get marked by people with an interest, and many would pounce on you like hungry wolves.
In this dog-eat-dog society, without strength, wealth might not be something you could protect.
How hard it was to rise in an environment like that.
But León knew a saying: the primitive accumulation of capital is soaked in blood.
Look at Barcelona's great tycoons today: which of them was clean when they started? Now people only saw how brilliant they were.
So for León at this moment, the gangs might not be a dead end!
Take control of gangland power, build his own strength, then go legitimate at the right time and become a new generation of Barcelona tycoon!
Of all Barcelona's gangs, four were the most powerful.
The Ribes gang, the Sala network, the Vilamajó outfit and the Puig Crew!
Known as the Big Four!
And the Sala network was undoubtedly the most suitable for León.
First, the Sala network had been founded by General Sala, who had retreated to Barcelona after his defeat years ago. Like León, most of its members had come from across the Pyrenees, so his background would be accepted.
Second, there was room to grow!
Of the Big Four, the Ribes gang was undoubtedly the longest established. It had grown out of the old secret societies of the nineteenth century, the Carlists and their like. It was the oldest gang in Barcelona, with more than a hundred years of history, but because of that, its inner workings were rigid.
To reach the top you needed seniority. To become leader you still had to stand in an election, and the term was only two years. León couldn't wait that long.
The other two great gangs, the Vilamajó outfit and the Puig Crew, had always been controlled by the Vilamajó family and the Puig family, and rising in them wouldn't be easy.
Only the Sala network!
Though it was loose, split into factions and endlessly fighting itself, it truly respected strength.
Whoever had the hardest fist sat at the top!
Once León was strong enough, even if he never led the Sala network, he could set up a crew of his own, which was permitted within the Sala network.
So for now, joining the Sala network would do León more good than harm!
With everyone watching, León nodded slightly, looked at Francisco Gordillo and said in a deep voice: "Since el Fraile thinks well of me, then I, León Vidal, will follow el Fraile!"
"Grand~ Hahaha!"
"From now on you're my brother!" Gordillo laughed loudly!
At that moment a shrill whistle sounded in the distance: the Guardia Civil had arrived!
Everyone was used to the Guardia Civil turning up last, and at a wave of Gordillo's hand, everyone scattered.
Gordillo excitedly took León away: "Come on, León, let's go and have a drink to celebrate you!"
…
Night fell, and the neon lights of the port district shone. A few days later, in a bar called El Faro.
Countless beautiful women were writhing wildly, bare white skin and skirts as short as could be; it literally turned the night into heaven.
León sat in a booth, turned down several beauties who tried to chat him up, and calmly watched the noisy, crazy crowd.
His status now was a lieutenant in the Sala network!
Last time, León had put down six Ribes men on his own, which had won people over.
So with that record, he became a mid-level leader as soon as he joined the Sala network.
In the newly seized territory of the port district, he'd been given three bars and two nightclubs, and he'd taken on more than a dozen lads under him. He was just about a boss.
Day to day, the main work was minding the patch, collecting protection money, moneylending, and running cigarettes and drink.
Apart from what was handed up to the gang and paid out to the lads, a good part of the rest could go into his own pocket, and he made more than he had as a waiter.
And it was easy and comfortable. In just a few days León had got used to gang life.
But he didn't dare relax. After all, half of the port district had originally belonged to the Ribes gang, and now it had been swallowed by the Sala network. The Ribes gang wouldn't take that lying down.
No telling when they'd come looking for trouble, so León had been coming here to sit every night these past few days.
The atmosphere in the bar was electric. Men and women who'd worked all day were letting themselves go.
Before long, León's lad Big Mouth Paco came running over: "León, Caballo Díaz is out of hospital!"
"Oh? He's out of hospital!"
León nodded lightly, not surprised. After all, though he'd hit hard at the time, none of their injuries had been fatal.
It was just that Caballo Díaz's arms were useless; he'd probably never hold a blade again!
"And the word on the street is Caballo Díaz is looking for a hitman, and it's likely aimed at you, León!" Big Mouth Paco said hurriedly, sweat on his forehead. That was the real point.
A hitman!
Barcelona's gangland had its unwritten rules. Usually they fought with navajas and iron bars; they didn't use guns unless they had to.
After all, that brought the Guardia Civil down on you, and even if you killed the other fella, you'd be in trouble.
But this time Caballo Díaz clearly didn't care. He'd been crippled by a newcomer like León, and unless he killed León, he'd never be at peace.
"He's forcing me to pull the weeds up by the roots!"
León was calm on the surface, but a cold light flashed in his eyes. Now that he was in gangland, he wouldn't show any mercy.
He turned to Big Mouth Paco and said, "Do you know how to get a gun?"
As a man who had been through a war, the old León had practically never been apart from a gun. Without a gun in his hand he never felt safe.
And now that Caballo Díaz was hiring a hitman to deal with him, it wouldn't be any ordinary method.
Big Mouth Paco's heart jumped. He thought about it and said honestly: "León, guns are tightly controlled in Barcelona, they're not easy to get."
"But I know a gun dealer called Fibra Flores. Mind you, he doesn't always have good stuff, and his prices are very high!"
Big Mouth Paco might have been a green young chancer, but he'd been knocking about for a few years and knew more than León did.
"Forget it, I'll find a way!" León said in a deep voice.
He didn't have much money, gun dealers charged a lot, and they might not have good stuff anyway.
Most importantly, it was easy for word to leak, because they were all known to the Guardia Civil.
Whenever there was a shooting or a murder in Barcelona, the Guardia Civil would round them all up, and there was no guarantee none of them would talk under pressure.
The reason León wasn't buying guns from dealers was that he'd remembered something very important.
At the end of the Civil War, when the Republicans pulled back, a batch of arms supplied by their Soviet backers wasn't shipped out in time. It was hidden in a cave in the Pyrenean hills and slowly forgotten.
Not until the new century was the cache discovered, and it was widely publicised as captured military equipment.
As far as León knew, there were a great many weapons, and he knew where the cave was.
"Time to go to the Pyrenees!" León whispered in his heart.