Brilliant fireworks lit up the Richmond night sky.
When they faded, leaving the crowd momentarily disappointed, the enormous windows of the new bar—called "Pharaoh"—suddenly blazed to life.
It was seventy meters long, with two-story-high glass frontage.
The dazzling illumination drew every eye.
Through those windows, Richmond's citizens gasped at the sight inside:
In the front hall stood a gleaming golden pyramid.
Even more striking was how the pyramid's shape seemed to spill across the side walls, reflected in countless floor-to-ceiling bronze mirrors.
Those imperfect, smoky mirror surfaces warped the image of the pyramid, making it feel like a hazy Egyptian dream—ancient and mysterious.
But the thing that most seized the men's attention was at the pyramid's entrance.
Two young women stood there in stylized ancient Egyptian garb.
Their costumes were bands of yellow and white cloth wrapping shoulders, legs, and chests—everything else was draped in sheer brown veils from head to toe.
Partially bared breasts, slender waists, long legs.
Suggestive, but never fully revealing.
"You're smart," said Richmond's mayor, Eamon Tiernan, watching the crowds flooding through the pyramid doors.
"This 'half-hidden, half-revealed' exotic style—no man can resist it. Your bar will be a hit.
And the moralists can't complain, since technically nothing is exposed.
Also, that design—forcing people to enter through the pyramid into the dance floor? Brilliant."
Leo turned to the mayor beside him, a man only 37 years old but already elected to Richmond's highest municipal office.
"You flatter me, Mr. Mayor. I'm only trying to make a small contribution to enrich the cultural life of Richmond's citizens."
Leo gestured Eamon to follow him to the VIP section on the third floor, to the best seat in the house.
The chairs were like thrones, letting them look down imperiously on the crowds below.
After sipping his cocktail, Eamon said casually:
"Since you mentioned contributing—now I need you to help Richmond with something else: our public safety.
You'll do that, won't you?"
Leo studied him closely. This guest hadn't been invited. He wasn't here to be friendly.
"Of course, sir. As a law-abiding citizen, it's my duty to help keep our city safe."
Eamon chuckled and leaned back.
"Leo, my father is a Richmond senator. My grandfather was a Richmond mayor.
The Tiernan family has been here since the colonial days.
In my eyes, there are no secrets in this city.
Whoever took out the Declan family was clever—he threw the pieces he couldn't digest to other hyenas, keeping law enforcement off his own back.
But now Richmond's neighborhoods are in chaos.
The mess caused by one clever man won't be cleaned up by another clever man.
Whoever started it, finishes it. Don't you agree?"
Leo understood how real predators thought.
They didn't care about evidence or guilt, only who benefited in the end.
Clearly, Eamon had figured out Leo's connection to Phis and his crew.
But so what? Without proof, and with Thomas behind him, Leo could deny anything.
Still, it wouldn't help his business to make an enemy of the mayor.
"I don't know much about the Declan family," Leo said smoothly, "but tell me what I can help you with."
He was signaling: I'll fix your problem, but you need to be specific.
"Before people start demanding I call in the National Guard, get Richmond back to how it was," Eamon said flatly.
"Of course, sir. My friends and I will do everything we can to ensure Richmond's stable development."
Eamon studied him for a moment, then said:
"You don't have to be so cautious when you talk to me.
In Virginia, I'm not with Clint, or Thomas, or Harry.
I'm just me—Eamon Tiernan."
Leo understood.
The ambitious young mayor was making clear he was an independent political force.
But not independent enough to ignore Thomas's influence.
If he were, he wouldn't be talking to Leo like this. He'd just have him arrested on trumped-up charges.
After all, for a politician, evidence could always be manufactured.
That was politics: not a single word could be trusted.
"I'm glad we're in agreement," Eamon said with a satisfied smile.
"Now let's talk about something else.
On my way back from DC recently, I stopped in Lynchburg.
Mayor Desmond gave me an enthusiastic introduction to those two proposals you submitted.
I didn't expect you to have such deep knowledge of municipal planning.
Especially impressive—your company can reinforce and renovate a house in seven days.
Build a new one in thirty-five.
That's not what I'd expect from a small-town firm."
The more Eamon praised him, the more cautious Leo became.
"Sir, what exactly are you suggesting?"
"Richmond has a lot of public facilities that are ancient and barely usable.
Come spring and summer, parts of the city stink to high heaven.
Population growth has also made housing shortages worse in places like Jackson Ward and Monroe Park.
I've seen your Gospel Community project. The designs are excellent.
The state legislature has passed a major new infrastructure and housing construction bill.
Richmond is in the first wave of cities to receive interest-free and low-interest loans.
Leo, you've done good work in Lynchburg.
I want to give you the contracts to handle Richmond's facility upgrades and some of the new housing.
Of course, you'll have to handle the competition yourself.
But I don't think that will be too hard for a man with… loyal dogs at his side."
Eamon's eyes glittered.
Leo stayed perfectly polite.
"And what would you expect in return, sir?"
Eamon grinned.
"No wonder Thomas likes you.
Old-school politicians love it when someone understands that you don't get something for nothing.
Leo, my family has run for governor of Virginia four times in the past century.
The last time was 1920. We nearly won.
But opposition inside our own party and pressure from Washington cost us the election.
Since then, the whole family has agreed on one thing: we lack a presence at the federal level.
We've tried to build it by sending our people to DC, but that city is so insular.
We've hit a ceiling—our best people have only gotten as far as the civil service.
We can't develop our own power there.
So we need a bridge.
A place to make friends with the DC elite.
I need your hotel."
He said it almost pleadingly.
"Of course, Mr. Mayor. My hotel welcomes all guests."
Leo said smoothly.
Eamon snorted.
"Stop playing dumb.
I need the network that comes with being the host.
The relationships, the political favors.
Let's be blunt: what you want is exactly what I want."
Eamon's tone was more polished, less threatening than Patrick's had been.
But at its core, it was the same raw predation of the strong upon the weak.
"So this is a transaction?" Leo asked.
"No," Eamon said with a slight smile.
"It's a gift between friends.
Though if you want to think of it as a trade, that's fine too."
Leo watched Eamon's serious expression and sneered inwardly.
Sure, on paper the entire Richmond infrastructure revamp and new housing construction was worth at least $10 million.
Way more valuable to Leo than one little hotel in Lynchburg.
But here's the problem: signing over the hotel took one month.
Actually getting that $10 million in contracts in Richmond?
Leo would bet good money Eamon would split it into endless tiny pieces.
That Lynchburg hotel was only the first installment in a never-ending cycle of extortion.