Just as Walt was about to start the car, Faes lunged in with a single stride.
"Boss! The Jewish gang is launching a full-on assault. We can't hold Jackson Ward anymore. They're even stirring up the Black folks in the South District to rise against us.
The boys need guns.
Compensation for the wounded takes money.
Those little workshops, the gambling dens, the shopkeepers' protection money—it's nowhere near enough."
Leo quickly ran the numbers in his head.
Conclusion: Not worth investing.
"Fall back to Monroe Park and the East District." Leo said.
"This... this will hurt morale. Those new guys we just brought in might desert." Faes said painfully. The territory was something he'd fought for block by block—he hated to give it up.
"Then recruit from Lynchburg! Just hold for a month, no matter what. And do what you're good at: make the enemy afraid. Stop trying to fight them in street brawls."
Leo saw right through his thinking and said coldly.
University of Virginia.
After listening to the president's speech, Leo nodded. Clearly, you didn't get to be a university president by being simple.
The address reviewed the past and passionately envisioned the future. The young audience was fired up.
Though, to be fair, the blood running hot may also have been for the freshman ball coming up.
The university staff were smart about it. They cleared out the assembly hall used for the opening ceremony and turned it into a ballroom for the big event.
Sexual liberation among the young was quietly underway.
Most of it was still shy, stolen moments—holding hands, a stolen kiss late at night.
This wasn't yet the freewheeling America of the post-hippie era.
But if there was a place with fewer rules, it was the university.
That fertile ground of intellectual freedom also bred a measure of bodily freedom.
American youth, repressed by a century of Puritan values, were desperate to share a wild, heated dance with like-minded classmates.
Once the faculty left, the main lights went out.
Elegant music played.
Circles and layers of young men and women formed across the huge dance floor.
Naturally, even the dance floor wasn't immune to class divisions.
At the edges were the small-town kids who looked hungry but didn't know how to dance.
Inside were older students on the prowl.
And at the center?
A space forcibly cordoned off by tables, reserved for the "true sons of the American flag"—the fraternity elite.
At the very center, Governor Harry's son Dick danced gracefully with a blonde beauty.
He moved with practiced skill, the arc of his motions elegant—though his ugly face spoiled the show.
He felt the girl pressing closer, trying clumsily to tease him.
But as the governor's son, this level of "talent" didn't interest him at all.
If it weren't for enjoying everyone's envious stares—and a bit of vanity—Dick, so close to graduation, wouldn't even have bothered to show up.
"What a damn peacock," Sean muttered in annoyance.
"Seriously—they literally walled off the best spot with tables," Joseph chimed in.
"You backwoods rubes know nothing. Those are real power families' kids in there.
When you can get inside that circle, then you'll have the right to talk about tearing down the tables.
Though honestly? When that day comes, you probably won't want them gone."
The speaker was a guy with thick-rimmed glasses, a plain denim shirt, and an academic scowl—pure textbook cynic.
His sarcasm caught Joseph's attention. Interesting guy.
"Hey, man. Business major. Joseph."
The other guy adjusted his glasses and said flatly:
"Reuben Frederick. Mathematics."
"Math? Who the hell chooses to study something that hard and boring?"
Joseph meant it as a joke, but Reuben bristled immediately.
He jerked his hand back, face flushing.
"Math is the mother of all science. You Philistine have no idea what we accomplished with Penn."
Joseph, being called a Philistine, nearly took a swing at him.
He was mid-motion when Leo grabbed his arm.
"Boss, what—"
Joseph looked confused.
Leo ignored him.
He stepped forward and asked Reuben:
"University of Pennsylvania? You were involved with that 'giant brain' the news has been talking about?"
About a month ago, a fresh marvel had become America's media darling:
The world's first general-purpose computer—ENIAC—had been born.
Unlike those around him who might be skeptical, Leo knew exactly what this meant.
A whole new era was coming.
Even if widespread adoption was years away, he wanted to start planning now.
He'd just been too busy lately to move on it. He hadn't expected tonight's freshman ball to yield such a surprise.
"You said you were involved. Why didn't the news mention UVA?"
Leo's question made Reuben's face fall.
He said in a low voice:
"Our team helped them solve some critical problems.
But when it came to what computers would be used for in the future, we had huge disagreements.
My friends and I wanted to push for commercial applications.
They didn't agree. Short-sighted fools.
If our university had backed us, we wouldn't have needed them at all."
The words "commercial applications" and "we could have done it ourselves" made Leo's eyes gleam.
There in the noisy dance hall, the two of them launched into a deep, excited discussion about computing's future.
Reuben was animated—Leo was the first person outside his old team who actually understood what he was talking about.
Some of Leo's own ideas even gave Reuben new inspiration.
"It's such a shame. Without funding, our work stalled. The team dissolved and went back to our departments."
Reuben sounded genuinely regretful.
Through the conversation, Leo had become certain: This guy was exactly the kind of talent he needed.
He kept talking while quietly thinking about how to lock Reuben in.
He noticed that whenever they weren't discussing computers, Reuben's eyes kept sneaking glances at the girls on the dance floor.
It wasn't hard to guess what a senior showing up here wanted.
"I... I'm not very good at it."
Reuben sounded embarrassed. Then he blinked at Leo and the others:
"You guys know how to dance?"
Clearly, Reuben thought these soldierly, small-town types shouldn't know anything about ballroom dancing.
"Come on, I'll teach you."
Leo offered his hand easily.
Then he turned to Joseph:
"Didn't you just call Eddie a damn peacock? Great. Let's give everyone something real to look at.
So many freshmen want in—let's teach them all to dance."
Leo, Joseph, and the others used their broad-shouldered presence to carve out a space.
Then they began openly, generously teaching the freshmen couples how to dance.
Joseph and the others—once shy small-town boys—had been thoroughly "educated" by Leo and by nights at Richmond's nightlife spots.
Especially since Leo's own bar, The Pharaoh, had opened.
Just six months ago, they were innocent kids.
Now they could easily wrap an arm around a blushing freshman girl and twirl her confidently.
Leo's initiative quickly spread from their little corner to the whole dance floor.
Dozens of eager, hormone-charged young men and women pressed in to learn and join the fun.