msmithbooks Chapter 4 Reward
Chapter 4 Reward
The other workers in the warehouse gradually noticed the dispute and stopped what they were doing, standing at a distance to watch, none of them daring to get involved.
In fact, during this brief delay, the records on the trailer had been mostly unloaded, with only a few boxes remaining.
Henry glanced at the burly man, then gestured to Zeke to "drive the car away."
Thank goodness, Zik had already gotten the door lock code from the driver before unloading the truck.
He quickly climbed into the driver's seat, followed the procedures, and the engine started smoothly without triggering any alarms.
A few seconds later, the truck slowly drove away from the warehouse, heading along Ninth Avenue toward the Lincoln Tunnel and New Jersey, where they would abandon the hijacked truck and erase all traces.
Henry remained in the passenger seat, his complexion much better than before. He pulled a wad of folded US dollars from his pocket and casually stuffed it into Zeke's pocket; the dollars felt substantial.
"Here's $500, the agreed-upon payment."
$500 was a drop in the ocean compared to the value of a whole truckload of records, but in 1977 it was a considerable sum. Zeke knew that Henry, who was officially employed by the construction union, only earned $170 a week, and non-union members earned even less.
He earned the equivalent of an average person's monthly income in just one night, and he was quite satisfied.
"What about the remaining boxes?" Zeke asked. He remembered the style of this robbery gang; they had already found buyers before the operation, and the trucks waiting to be loaded in the warehouse were all arranged by the buyers.
"It's okay if a few boxes are missing," Henry waved his hand. "Stop the car first, and we'll each take one box as extra pay."
Qi Ke obediently pulled over, secretly thinking: It seems that shortchanging people is not a big deal for them. A lot of things were already lost on the way, so it doesn't matter if a few more boxes are distributed now.
Records are mass-market consumer goods, and with a mature and extensive distribution network, they can be easily resold for cash, making them a lucrative side income.
The two men each carried a box of records, and then met up with Tommy, Stanley, and "The Dentist" who were waiting by the roadside.
Each of the robbers took a box, and Henry also paid them: Stanley and Tommy, who were responsible for threatening the driver with a gun, each received $2000; the "dentist," who was only responsible for driving, received $300. After the distribution was completed, Henry released the two drivers, who had paper bags over their heads and were trembling with fear, and signaled them to leave quickly.
Zeke drove the truck into the shadow of the elevated highway. Just as everyone was about to disperse, Henry called them back, walked quickly to a roadside phone booth, dialed a number, and spoke a few words in a low voice with a gloomy expression.
After hanging up the phone, Henry looked at Stanley and Tommy and gave them an address: "You two, go to that union bastard's place in New Jersey and teach him a lesson. Make him learn his lesson and stop meddling in other people's business."
Zeke was secretly alarmed. It seemed that Henry had found out the identity and address of the burly man from that phone call. He couldn't swallow this insult.
Stanley and Tommy, however, looked hesitant and were reluctant to go. After all, Henry wasn't the leader of the team; he was only responsible for the sales aspect and wasn't authorized to directly order them around.
Henry's face darkened, and he said coldly, "Jimmy is still in prison. If you want to continue doing this business at JFK Airport, you have to listen to me."
The two men exchanged a glance and then demanded more payment.
Henry patiently explained, "Even though Jimmy isn't here, his share can't be less; the cuts from the Paulie boss and the Colombo family can't be touched either. JFK Airport is their territory, and they have to get a piece of the pie from all the business here. Add to that the bribes and favors at every stage, and the fees for dealing with the driver, and you're already pretty lucky to get this much. A case of records is worth several hundred dollars, so be content."
The two men, their faces full of resentment and cursing under their breath, were angry at the union man for being so stubborn and ungrateful, and also angry at themselves for having to make a wasted trip to a remote part of New Jersey. Despite their complaints, they eventually got into the car, the engine roaring as they drove off towards New Jersey.
As Zeke followed Henry into the "dentist's" car, he couldn't help but wonder: how much would Henry actually get paid? With each step of the process taking a cut, what he would ultimately receive would probably be just a pittance.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he mentally complained: America is truly magical. Even as a robber, he's still being exploited at every turn. No wonder it's the epitome of capitalism.
The car drove back to East Brownsville, a well-known Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn. The streets were lined with low wooden houses, the streetlights were dim, and the air was filled with the aroma of Italian food.
The car stopped in front of Zeke's house. "The Dentist" patted the steering wheel and laughed, "Let's go back. We're going to have some fun at the club in town."
Henry leaned out, a gentle smile on his face: "Give my regards to your father and tell him you did a good job today."
"I will." Zike got out of the car with a box of records he had been given, and watched the car disappear into the night before turning around and opening the door to his house.
Zeke is the second son in the family, which is quite large: his older brother Paul died in 1973 after joining the army, leaving behind two children aged five or six, who are raised by the old Rossi couple; there is also a fourteen-year-old brother, Joey, and a seventeen-year-old unmarried sister, Mary; their father, the old Rossi, runs a small restaurant and has not yet returned; their mother is an ordinary housewife who takes care of the family's livelihood.
As soon as he entered the door, he was greeted by the warmth of his family: his mother quickly stepped forward, cupped his face and kissed his cheek, her voice full of concern: "Zike, you're finally back! Has your fever gone down? You still look a little pale."
"I feel much better. I'll be fine after another nap."
The two younger children were already asleep, and their older sister Mary and younger brother Joey surrounded them, showering them with kisses and greetings. This direct and ardent concern made Zeke, who had traveled through time, feel slightly uncomfortable, yet it also warmed his heart.
Joey's gaze quickly fell on the box in his arms, his eyes widening, and he asked eagerly, "Zick, what's in here? 'Saturday Night Fever'?!" He immediately spotted the record cover peeking out from the crack in the box and jumped up excitedly, "That's so cool! Where did you get it?"
"Consider it payment for today's work," Zike explained casually, without elaborating on the robbery. His family wisely refrained from asking further questions; in this community, young people who could find "money-making" jobs inevitably had their own ways of doing so.
"If this happened in China, and someone inexplicably brought home a huge box of records, they'd be asking all sorts of questions."
He muttered to himself, but his hands didn't stop. He took a cassette tape out of the box and handed it to Joey, then gave another one to Mary.
Joey clutched the cassette tape with delight, while Mary beamed, "You're amazing, Zeke! This is the hottest record right now. If I bring it to school tomorrow, all my classmates will be so envious!"
His mother brought him the dinner she had saved for him—the familiar pasta and tomato meat sauce, simple yet comforting. After finishing his dinner, Zik returned to his room, lay on his bed, and began to plan his next move.
The wooden house had poor sound insulation, and the sound of the television in the living room could be heard clearly. It was broadcasting news about the government's achievements in the war on drugs. The announcer's voice was serious, but it did nothing to dispel the restlessness and chaos in the community.
Zik touched the $500 in his pocket, then looked at the entire box of cassette tapes on the table, realizing that his mindset had unconsciously shifted. Earning nearly $1000 in one night made him think that people who took jobs paying $100 a week were fools; society clearly encouraged those who took shortcuts.
But he also knew that he couldn't be a robber forever. If he wanted to earn a legitimate, respectable, high-paying job, he still had to go to university, and in the United States, becoming a lawyer or doctor after graduation was the long-term solution.
He wasn't afraid of the hardships of studying, after all, he had been through the tough times in East Asia in his previous life, so this kind of hardship was nothing to him. But the original owner's grades were really terrible, with Cs and Ds all over the report card. He hadn't attended school for more than a few days in the 77 academic year, and his campus performance was also a mess, so scholarships were probably out of the question.
The family's situation was very ordinary, and with many children, Old Rossi's small restaurant didn't earn much money, so they couldn't afford to send him to university. He had to save up for his tuition himself.
These days, college tuition is about $3000 a year. With room, board, textbooks and other expenses, he would need to prepare at least $2 for four years of college.
It would take at least three to four years of honest work to save this much money, even if I were living off my parents.
Thinking of this, Qi Ke couldn't help but complain in his heart: Everyone else has a cheat code when they transmigrate, but how come he has become a "naked transmigrator" with no system and no memory advantage?
The most urgent thing is to save money. Taking these records to school to sell is a good idea, but he attends a local public school where most students are from blue-collar families and have limited spending power.
Moreover, based on the original owner's memory, the price of a record was enough to buy a quarter ounce of Western leaves, and students would rather spend their money on that, so record sales probably wouldn't be very good. Besides, many students would steal from record stores and wouldn't actually spend money to buy them.
Selling records locally in Brownsville isn't ideal either, as the area is crowded and noisy. Frequent record sales could attract the attention of gangs or the police, causing unnecessary trouble.
According to Zeke's impression, Brownsville's security situation, objectively speaking, was not exactly chaotic, but it was at least lawless.
West Point is known for producing generals, while Brownsville is known for producing gangsters.
This is the birthplace of the infamous "murder company," the professional hitman gang that served multiple criminal families in the 30s and 40s, which originated from here.
Zeke grew up listening to their stories, and even the street where he lived produced a "hero" who founded Las Vegas.
The residents here almost all know each other, and most are blue-collar families. They are extremely xenophobic; a stranger stepping into this place is like a drop of water falling into a hot oil pan—they will be instantly targeted. But according to NYPD data, compared to other parts of New York, robberies and thefts are virtually nonexistent here, and homicides are down by a third.
No one would really believe this is a "pure land." Qi Ke had always suspected that the number of unnatural deaths here was far higher than the official statistics, but the bodies were often silent and no one would call the police.
The root of all this is Paulie Wario, the "Emperor" here, who leads the Wario Gang, New York's toughest and most violent gang. The Wario Gang is also part of the Lucchese family, one of the five major families, and most of the violent dirty work for the Lucchese family is done by members of the Wario Gang.
As for Henry and Tommy, their status was actually limited. Their leader, Jimmy, was Paulie's subordinate, but Jimmy was Irish, and Henry was only of mixed race, with only his mother being Sicilian.
None of them were qualified to become official members of the Mafia: the Mafia only accepts descendants of pure Sicilians. If a conflict were to arise with an official Mafia member, Henry and his men alone wouldn't be able to protect him.
With that thought in mind, Zeke made up his mind and muttered to himself, "I'd better make my move somewhere else, away from all the trouble here. I need to keep working on Henry's side and save up some tuition fees first."