Bronte's disappearance hadn't caused much of a stir yet.
The newspapers in Saint Denis were published semiweekly—only twice a week.
Following Davey's instructions, Martelli immediately began arranging manpower to safeguard his businesses.
Land Manor.
Mac strode in, practically glowing with excitement.
"Davey! Davey!"
Elisa hurried over to stop him.
"Mr. Mac, Mr. Land is upstairs on the telephone. Please don't disturb him."
Mac sighed. "Alright, Elisa. Get me a cup of Earl Grey."
Elisa sent a maid to prepare it.
Upstairs.
Davey was on the phone with Catherine.
Because of Davey, Catherine had always kept a close eye on news from the West.
Bronte's disappearance hadn't been reported yet in Saint Denis, but it had already appeared in the newspapers back East—though only as a small column.
Even back East, Bronte was considered a wealthy man.
The newspapers there reported that in Saint Denis, in the West, a wealthy man's estate had been attacked and he had been kidnapped.
That kind of sensationalized portrayal of the West's "savagery" always found an audience.
"The so-called wealthy man who was attacked is a gang leader."
"Those media people back East don't understand a thing. They just love painting the West as barbaric."
"This is a dispute between gangs."
"And it has nothing to do with me. I'm a legitimate businessman, Catherine."
"I'm perfectly safe. I even have my own security company."
Hearing that, Catherine finally relaxed.
"I think I hear someone calling your name."
Davey chuckled. "That's my foolish brother, Mac. He's always shouting."
"You'll meet him when you come to Saint Denis."
After a few more sweet words, Davey hung up and went downstairs.
Mac had already grown impatient in the living room. He'd finished three cups of Earl Grey.
"Davey, don't phone calls cost money? You were talking forever."
Davey ignored the complaint.
"So, Mac. What dragged you off a woman and over here?"
"Davey, isn't this my home too?"
These days, Mac was the only one who dared speak to Davey like that.
Davey smiled. "Oh, so you remember this is your home? Think about it—how long's it been since you actually came back?"
Mac looked a little embarrassed.
He practically lived in the top-floor suite of the Saint Denis Hotel now.
Every day he either watched the gambling operations with Martelli or drank hot coffee.
"Alright, Davey. I didn't come here to talk about that."
"I heard you've taken over Bronte's businesses. Is that true? A lot of them?"
Mac finally got to the point, his excitement returning.
His partnership with Martelli—gambling and the adult trade—was only a small slice of the whole operation.
"That's right," Davey said. "So what are you getting at?"
Mac rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Give them to me, Davey. You know I'm already handling this kind of business."
"Give them to you?" Davey shot back. "You've got the nerve to say that? You can't even balance the books. Do you have any idea how big those operations are?"
Mac had no reply. Because it was true—he couldn't manage accounts at all.
And in truth, it wasn't just Mac. Most gangs were the same. Their books were a complete mess.
It wasn't that Davey didn't want to hire an accountant. The problem was that with gang accounts, loyalty mattered more than skill. If the accountant couldn't be trusted, they'd sell you out, cheat you, or pocket the money before you even realized it.
Davey already had someone in mind.
Strauss—the man who had been tortured to death without betraying Dutch—was undoubtedly the best candidate.
Strauss understood gang operations inside and out. Davey had worked with him many times before. Back when the Van der Linde Gang handled debt collection, the Callander brothers had carried out the work.
"I'll bring Donal over," Davey said at last. "I'll put Bronte's businesses under your name, but Donal will handle the actual management. All you need to do is lead your men and keep other gangs from causing trouble."
Mac immediately threw his arms around Davey in a tight hug.
"You really are my good brother, Davey. This is perfect."
Davey pushed him away with a look of exasperation. "Get lost, Mac. And I'm warning you—watch your health. And don't forget what you promised me."
Mac's patience wore thin at that.
"Davey, I swear, you're starting to sound like our late father. And our late mother."
With that, he hurried out.
He truly couldn't understand why Davey had suddenly started urging him to get married.
He almost said Davey wasn't married either—but then remembered Davey already had a girlfriend, and thought better of it.
Davey watched him leave and let out a quiet sigh.
As the business grew larger, the lack of reliable, loyal people became more and more obvious.
In places like the United States and the West—where betrayal and deceit were everywhere—finding someone you could truly trust was no easy task.
Counting carefully, Davey could name the people he trusted on one hand.
Take Bronte, for example. Martelli had followed him for years, yet given enough profit, he would sell him out without hesitation.
Mac was an idiot, his head full of muscle and hot coffee—but he was Davey's twin brother. That alone set him apart from everyone else.
Why had Davey tried to poach people from Dutch? Because the Van der Linde Gang, whatever their other flaws, had a natural strength when it came to loyalty and bonds.
Those drunken old "uncles" who did nothing but drink—if something ever happened to Davey, they would step forward without hesitation.
John was the same.
As for later additions like Donal, they were more like Martelli—capable, yes, but loyalty was another matter.
Many bosses, even generals, favored appointing relatives and close associates. Not because they were blind—but because in critical positions, you needed people you could trust. Even if they had flaws, that was fine, so long as they weren't complete fools or ungrateful traitors.
Just then, the upstairs telephone rang again.
Elisa answered and called out to Davey.
"Mr. Land, it's Mrs. Berry."
Davey went upstairs to take the call.
Mrs. Berry delivered the news: earlier that day, the City Council had passed a resolution. Citing the inaction of the Saint Denis Police Department, the council proposed granting Pinkerton temporary law enforcement authority in Lemoyne.
The decision had now been submitted to the State Legislature for ratification.
Although the State Legislature held legislative authority, Saint Denis was the only city in Lemoyne, and the City Council's proposals were rarely rejected.
After hanging up, Davey didn't leave. He immediately placed another call.
A voice answered from the receiver.
"Hello, Pinkerton Detective Agency."
"This is Davey Land. Please inform Senior Agent Andrew Milton that I'll be waiting for his call."
...
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