How could Davey completely—utterly—free himself from the shadow of being a wanted man?
The solution was actually very simple: make that identity die for good.
It sounded easy, but carrying it out was anything but.
Davey's demand was clear—a fully legitimate trial, conducted through proper legal procedures, ending in a public hanging.
That meant dealing with three major pillars: the federal law enforcement agencies, the government, and the courts.
It wouldn't just take an enormous amount of money. It would also require deep connections to make everything run smoothly.
Especially the final step—having it officially reported in the newspapers—which served as Davey's guarantee.
Of course, there were simpler methods. Skipping steps, cutting corners. But those would leave behind hidden dangers.
A trial that fully complied with procedure required formal identity verification in court, as well as finding a condemned prisoner willing to voluntarily take his place.
That way, even if Davey went to Saint Denis or any civilized city in the East, no one could touch him under the law. Legally speaking, Davey Callander—and Mac—would already be dead.
And if anyone tried to overturn such a ruling, it would be the equivalent of slapping the public in the face. It would spark a crisis of trust—not just in the courts or the police, but in the United States itself.
Compared to the risk of triggering a nationwide crisis of confidence, a small-time figure like Davey simply didn't matter.
This was the safest approach.
Originally, Davey had planned to build things up slowly—expand his influence, accumulate massive assets, and then erase this risk altogether.
But now that Bronte was willing to show sincerity, why not make that sincerity even more obvious?
When Napoli heard Davey's request, sweat immediately formed on his brow.
This wasn't something that could be settled with a few thousand dollars. It would take at least a hundred thousand, plus the expenditure of countless favors and connections, just to have a chance of pulling it off.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Land," Napoli said carefully, "but something of this scale isn't a decision I can make as a mere servant."
"I'll need to report this to Mr. Bronte. Though… if it isn't too difficult, perhaps he won't refuse."
Despite his words, Napoli knew perfectly well that Bronte would never agree.
The cost was far too high. With that kind of money and political capital, Bronte could hire far more capable men.
Neither Martelli nor the captured men were worth that price. They simply didn't carry that kind of value.
Martelli stood quietly to the side, listening, his expression complicated.
He hadn't betrayed Bronte by agreeing to Davey's terms. And if Bronte truly were willing to pay such a price for him, then Martelli would devote himself to Bronte without hesitation.
"Very well," Davey said calmly. "Then I'll await your good news, sir."
Davey didn't hold much hope that Bronte would actually help him, but for now, he had no other demands.
His bootlegging operation was already bringing in a hundred thousand dollars a month. Even after fifty thousand in expenses, he still cleared another fifty thousand.
Even if he maintained the current scale, in just two years he would join the ranks of the United States' multimillionaires.
In truth, with immigration surging across the country, millionaires were already appearing in large numbers, and multimillionaires were no longer rare.
"So," Davey continued casually, "Mr. Martelli—do you still wish to remain here as my guest, instead of returning with Mr. Napoli?"
Just as Napoli bowed and prepared to leave, Davey spoke again.
Martelli, Napoli, and even John and Arthur were caught off guard.
Martelli asked in disbelief, "Mr. Land… I… am I allowed to?"
Davey nodded. "Of course. Do I look like I'm joking?"
"I trust Mr. Bronte. A man like him doesn't throw away his reputation lightly. Since that's the case, why should I keep Mr. Martelli here eating my food?" Davey smiled faintly. "Unless Mr. Martelli plans on paying for his meals?"
Faced with Davey's dry humor, Martelli didn't know how to respond.
"Mr. Land, I would of course pay—no, I wouldn't—ah, sorry. I think I'm just a bit excited, so my words are all over the place."
"I just didn't expect you to let me go before Mr. Bronte has even paid the ransom."
Davey chuckled. "I believe he will. Mr. Bronte isn't the type to go back on his word. And even if he did, I wouldn't lose any sleep over it, would I?"
To Davey, Martelli and the other captives didn't matter much. Letting them go now served two purposes: it showed goodwill, and it planted a seed with Martelli for the future.
If Bronte refused to pay—or chose not to help with the identity issue—it might look like he'd gained something, but in reality, he'd lose far more.
Keeping those men by force would only net ten or twenty thousand dollars at most, a ransom already above the usual rate.
And Davey didn't lack that kind of money. A few days of bootleg sales would cover it easily.
Even Napoli couldn't help but remove his hat in respect. "You have my admiration, Mr. Land."
John and Arthur, meanwhile, were even more shaken.
John shrugged it off—if he couldn't figure it out, he simply didn't bother.
But the way Arthur looked at Davey had clearly changed.
This was the ideal Dutch had once instilled in him—a band of outlaws bound by shared ideals.
Yet lately, Arthur had begun to feel that Dutch was drifting away from those original beliefs.
Davey, on the other hand, seemed to have betrayed the gang—yet in truth, he was still fighting for that same ideal.
Just like… the Dutch of old.
Charismatic, principled, and impossible not to believe in.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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