"Boss, last night I was busy 'disciplining' those especially arrogant mafia guys. Worked late. Why did you call me to the train station so early?"
Fais had bandages on his arm—he'd been shot the night before.
"Mafia? Italians? No chance of negotiating?"
Being Italian himself, Leo asked out of habit.
"No chance at all," Fais said. "They're backed by one of the New York Five Families—the Barzini family. They completely ignored my repeated warnings."
"And so?"
Leo gave him a cold sidelong glance that instantly shut Fais up.
He felt a chill in his bones. He'd seen men reduced to begging for death without being given the release of dying. To Fais, Leo wasn't just his boss—he was the very devil in human form.
Fais forced a strained smile.
"So I sent them to hell for re-education. They were too rude. But Boss, maintaining order has cost me a lot lately. That I can handle. It's just, whenever there's real trouble, I have to go myself. And there's been too much real trouble lately. I can't be everywhere. Can you let Walter help me out? He's too good to be stuck as a driver."
"You saying I'm wasting talent?"
Leo's voice went cold. Fais's personality was a bit like Joseph's—he needed a good smack now and then.
Fais lowered his head immediately.
"Save your routine," Leo said icily. "I brought you here to get you some help."
The train arrived. Despite the rushing crowds, Leo immediately spotted his targets.
Unlike everyone else crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, there was a clear ten-foot radius of empty space around Corondo Oseen and the Soviet bandit Kirill Cherny.
No surprise—their appearances were terrifying.
Corondo was 6'3" but alarmingly thin, all bones and menace.
Kirill was 5'11" but built like a refrigerator—just as wide as he was tall.
To Leo's eyes, they were like a comic duo: Fat and Skinny, but both equally terrifying.
Fais knew them both.
Corondo was a borderline-autistic brawler with mild social phobia.
But he also had an autistic savant's memory, making him top-notch at intelligence analysis.
The problem? Say the wrong thing, and he'd draw a gun on you without blinking.
He was one of Leo's original crew—nobody else could handle him.
Fais remembered well: the only person who could disarm Corondo fast enough after insulting him was Leo himself.
After enough times getting disarmed, Fais had learned to restrain his own violent instincts.
By now he didn't even draw on Leo. His loyalty was absolute.
Fais gave Corondo a bear hug.
Leo shook hands with Kirill.
"Welcome to America. I hope you'll be happy here," Leo said.
Kirill let out a guttural laugh, his English thick with a Russian accent.
"I will. I can already smell the familiar scent in the air. I owe you my life from Guam, so—what do you want me to do?"
As Leo brought two more core members into Fais's team, another scene was unfolding in the state government building.
After a week, Eddie was finally face-to-face with his father, Governor Clint.
But today, he wasn't here as a son—he was here to pitch as a "professional."
With him was Wallace Neff. Herbert was absent—he knew Clint didn't like him.
"Because of Sullivan Gurian's favor, you have ten minutes to convince me," Clint said curtly, gesturing to his aide to start the timer.
Hearing his father say he was only here on someone else's account made Eddie burn with embarrassment.
But then he remembered what Herbert had promised: he'd be America's biggest real estate tycoon. That fired him back up.
"Governor, allow me to introduce a revolutionary solution to the housing shortage—'The House of Art,' also known as the Bubble House.
We can build an entire house in just two days."
Clint interrupted him sharply.
"Listen. If you're here to tell me fairy tales, let's not waste each other's time."
Seeing Eddie's approach failing, Wallace Neff—who considered the Bubble House his life's work—got desperate.
He rattled off his credentials at breakneck speed.
Then he pulled a balloon from his bag, took a deep breath, and inflated it in two seconds.
"Mr. Clint, as you can see, my construction principle is exactly like this balloon.
Two seconds to inflate the balloon—two days to inflate an entire house."
Clint had heard of Wallace Neff before.
Seeing the man's dead-serious expression, he realized Wallace wouldn't play along with Eddie's foolishness.
But this idea? Inflatable houses? It was just too bizarre.
"Mr. Neff, no offense," Clint said slowly. "But can people actually live in these houses? Even if they can, surely they're expensive to make."
"On the contrary, Governor," Wallace replied quickly.
"I've developed a revolutionary system with portable construction equipment.
It doesn't need special tools—just the right materials.
The houses are ultra-modern, low-cost, and can be built incredibly fast.
Two days. Really, just two days."
Eddie gestured for Wallace to show the photos.
Wallace handed them to Clint, explaining:
"The first test project in Falls Town, Virginia, has been in use for two years.
It consists of ten double-bubble units and two single-bubble units.
It's a proof of concept.
I'm absolutely confident we can scale it up to solve the housing crisis."
Wallace was about to say more, but Eddie cut him off.
"Enough, Wallace. Time's short. Let me talk privately with the Governor."
Once Wallace and the aide had left the room, Eddie practically lunged forward.
"Father, I personally went to Falls Town. These houses are real.
Sure, they're not super comfortable for me, but for the poor?
They'll be grateful just to have a roof over their heads."
Then Eddie leaned in close and lowered his voice conspiratorially:
"Here's the best part.
The materials were invented by the Neff brothers.
Our lawyers found a loophole in their patent filings.
We can cut them out completely.
Better yet, the material is cheap and simple to make.
Once we have the patent, we set the price.
Father, the midterm elections are coming.
I heard there's a funding gap in the campaign.
If the state government makes this a 'greenlight' project, I'll handle the cities and counties myself."
Clint nodded slowly.
"You've grown up, son. Finally learning to solve problems for me.
But your vision is too narrow.
I'll run this myself. Bring Herbert back.
I don't like him, but now is not the time to be picky about talent.
When you leave, have Wallace contact my campaign team.
And tell my aide to buy me a ticket—I want to see these houses for myself."
In Richmond's East District, at one of Fais's gang hideouts.
In the meeting room, Leo rubbed his brow for a long moment before finally speaking:
"Move them. But keep it as voluntary as possible.
The hotel is about to open.
Those beastly politicians need their special entertainment.
But!
There will be absolutely no repeat of the Patrick incident.
No matter who asks for it—we won't provide.
Even if it offends them.
Understood?"
Kirill looked a little regretful—his own people's girls tended to look older even when technically of age.
But he agreed to Leo's terms.
As long as Leo didn't enter politics and make him betray his vory v zakone code, Kirill would obey him completely.