Charlie Lee did not detect any irony in William Dover's words of gratitude and accepted the praise without hesitation.
"Congratulations! I heard your support rate has returned to 65%. Your re-election is practically inevitable," Charlie said, genuinely this time. William's imminent victory would ensure that none of Charlie's prior efforts were wasted. The upcoming banquet was poised to stabilize and accelerate his own plans.
"Nuki is a generous and honest friend, never stingy with his allies," William remarked, clearly moved as he brought up the host of the banquet they were to attend.
Nuki had made it known he needed more help. Judging by the quiet but significant influence Charlie wielded, William knew the young Chinese man before him was not to be underestimated.
The armed force of nearly a thousand men under Charlie's command was nothing short of a powder keg in the United States. Thankfully, for now, that keg seemed stable. More importantly, Charlie seemed to be steering toward a legitimate business path, a prudent move.
"When you're poor, what you need is opportunity and strength. When you're no longer poor, all you need is money," William said, reflecting on the reality of their country. "In a land where capital is king, Franklin [the dollar bill] is the only key to both overturn and maintain everything."
Taking the opportunity, Charlie replied, "Tell Nuki that the Aegis Bureau is ready to provide him with the best service whenever he requires assistance." This was a chance for Charlie to promote his budding business interests.
The Shendun Bureau and the Blue & White Chamber of Commerce had officially launched. The Chamber's headquarters was set up at the former Royal Nightclub, transformed into a high-end club per Charlie's instructions. Meanwhile, the Aegis Special Guard—the security arm of the Shendun Bureau—operated out of the dust-ridden Zone 22.
Charlie had reserved a modest office for the security company at the Chamber's premises, ensuring clients wouldn't have to visit Zone 22 to select guards under less-than-ideal circumstances. "The customer is king," Charlie often said, "and the king pays generously for their protection."
Before parting, William remarked meaningfully, "I hope Chicago remains peaceful."
Charlie, smiling faintly, thought otherwise. "What does it matter to me whether Chicago is peaceful or not?" He sipped his coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste. It reminded him of the Chinese medicine he had to drink as a child in his previous life. Deciding against returning to the café, he muttered, "Coffee is just not for me."
The $2,000 loan both men had spoken of remained unmentioned during their meeting, as though it had never existed.
Over the next week, Charlie stayed in Zone 22, personally overseeing the training of his recruits. The rigorous sessions brought some to tears, but Charlie's discipline paid off.
During this time, Ben, his financial manager, delivered stock market updates. "Mr. Lee, our shares in Freeport Sulphur Company have risen by 13%, and other stocks have shown gains of 3–8%."
"Just give me the bottom line. How much profit?" Charlie's bluntness rendered Ben momentarily speechless.
Suppressing his frustration, Ben replied, "At current stock prices, $15,000 after deducting operational expenses."
Though disappointed that his efforts didn't receive recognition, Ben's mood quickly changed when Charlie handed him a $1 million check. "It's a pleasure to serve you," Ben said, his tone now obsequious as two bodyguards escorted him out.
The funds were sourced from Joe's private stash—money stored discreetly in a home safe. Its origins might not have been entirely clean, but Charlie wasn't worried about it being traced.
Charlie wasn't idle. The $15,000 return from a $150,000 investment in just four days was an impressive rate of growth. At a time when the average annual household income ranged between $500 and $700, the stock market felt like a gold mine to him.
His ambitions extended far beyond Chicago. Reflecting on the inevitable Great Depression, he foresaw opportunities amidst the looming economic disaster. "The West," he mused, "California, Los Angeles… there's potential there."
Before he could lose himself in his thoughts, Huang Fang, his chief steward, interrupted. "Boss, Paul has arrived."
Their next destination was Washington, followed by a trip to Atlantic City. "Tell the monk to prepare," Charlie ordered, catching sight of Paul waving to him from the roadside.
Landing at Dulles Airport on a small biplane, Charlie felt a wave of relief. The rattling of the aircraft throughout the flight had unnerved him, and the loud clangs in the cabin made it seem as though the plane would fall apart.
Despite the harrowing experience, his companions remained unfazed. The monk calmly sipped from his glass, while Paul lounged with a bottle of whiskey. Thankfully, the pilot hadn't been indulging, or Charlie might have considered commandeering the aircraft himself.
Charlie's entourage included nine top trainees from his special guard unit: four Chinese, five Black, and ten of the monk's men. While Black recruits had proven stronger in training, Charlie had chosen to include additional Chinese men, trusting their loyalty.
"Paul, we're taking the train back," Charlie declared upon arrival, still rattled from the flight.
Paul didn't argue. "Understood, boss."
Washington, with its grandeur and orderly streets, struck Charlie as far superior to Chicago in public facilities and architecture. Still, the capital's charm didn't distract him from Paul's warnings.
"The Mafia is growing restless. They might hire Sicilian assassins to target you. Shall we take precautions?" Paul asked, his voice heavy with concern.
"This is America, not Sicily," Charlie replied, his gaze sharp despite the calmness of his tone. Still, the warning wasn't lost on him.
At the hotel, Charlie turned to Huang. "Advertise in the papers. Recruit more people. Spread the word that Chicago is planning a new Chinatown."
With the recent downfall of Capone's empire and crackdowns on smaller gangs, the Aegis Bureau's ranks had swelled to thousands, forming a mix of Chinese, Black, Italian, Irish, and Latin members—a true melting pot.
Adding to his operation were three French chefs in the kitchen and six German instructors tasked with instilling military discipline in the recruits. American veterans were preferable, but their disdain for Italians and Black recruits made them an unviable option.
Charlie believed he could slowly reshape perceptions. If nothing else, his actions might redefine Chinese immigrants from "meek workers" to indispensable allies.
Charlie's power in Chicago was becoming undeniable. Paul, now more of a figurehead under Charlie's command, enjoyed a life of relative luxury and protection. Every complaint from rival factions was swiftly handled, often before Paul even became aware of it.
Even Johnny, who had retreated to Sicily, sent word of his dissatisfaction. Paul scoffed. "Johnny? The same guy who let Capone rot in prison? He's irrelevant."
Charlie, meanwhile, took satisfaction in how things were unfolding. Armed with wealth, influence, and a growing organization, he felt unstoppable.
The looming Great Depression would not weaken him. On the contrary, he intended to use it to solidify his empire.