The assassin hadn't expected that, despite all the preparation, he was still discovered in advance. He also hadn't anticipated that a Jewish businessman like Meyer Lansky would be so agile.
Six shots were fired, but none of them hit Meyer. With the current environment, there was no time to reload or get another shot in.
The situation was tense!
After such an attempt, how could the assassin be allowed to leave? No need for Meyer Lansky to give orders—the two gangsters guarding the restaurant door, and even the doorman, who appeared to be just a regular staff member but was actually one of the gunmen's people, quickly sealed off all escape routes.
The assassin was shocked at how well-protected Meyer was. Not only were there bodyguards nearby, but the entire hotel seemed to be filled with gunmen. In an instant, he was surrounded by six or seven people, and escape was impossible.
At this point, there was nothing more to say. The assassin received a severe beating, and Meyer, brushing off any dust from his shirt caused by jumping to safety, stood in the middle of the restaurant and told everyone present not to call the police. It was clear that this was a matter for the underworld to handle.
Niall and Frederick finally crawled out from under the table, seeing Meyer, who had regained his calm composure, while the rest of the crowd either remained terrified or started speculating.
"What happened? What's going on?" Frederick asked, clearly confused, still processing the situation, aware only that bullets had been flying around them.
"Probably an assassination attempt…" Niall said, now feeling less panicked since no one had been killed.
"Please return to your rooms and rest. We'll discuss matters tomorrow," Meyer Lansky, now back to his businesslike persona, ushered a subordinate to take them back to their rooms.
Meyer didn't even let them ask any questions, switching from a shrewd Jewish businessman to an authoritarian gang boss in the blink of an eye. The captured assassin had already been beaten and was now being dragged away, with no one knowing where he would be taken next.
The two were escorted back to their room by the same thug, who seriously instructed them to stay indoors, mentioning that their clothes would be collected and cleaned. They were to stay in the room and wait.
Not long later, a waiter arrived to collect their dirty clothes, delivering a large sandwich along with beer and cola, asking if they needed anything else. When they declined, he left.
"What about you, are you eating?" Niall asked, still hungry and grabbing a cheese and ham sandwich.
"…" Frederick, still in shock from the assassination attempt, waved his hand absentmindedly, preferring to sit in silence.
"What are you so nervous about? They weren't trying to kill you," Niall joked.
"I know they weren't after me, but…" Frederick trailed off.
"Are you worried someone might try to kill you later?"
"Probably…"
"Well, if you're scared now, why did you even come to Chicago? You could've stayed in Brooklyn and run a hotel—guaranteed income with no risks."
"Ugh, how did you figure out there was a risk?" Frederick clearly needed some time to digest what had happened, as everyone's psychological tolerance was different, and it was hard to say.
"I saw him wearing a gun holster, and then he drew his gun," Niall said simply, explaining the situation plainly. It wasn't about whether the gun was drawn or not—it was about trusting your instincts. He had gotten lucky this time, and it felt good to be alive.
Both of them pondered the events, and Niall thought about the American dream. In this world, you either had a big name or wealth, which kept you safe, or you had to live a cautious and ordinary life to stay safe.
Even the richest mob bosses were constantly facing assassination attempts. Political figures like Dewey were also targeted for simply standing in the way. The world was full of people trying to climb over others to gain power.
With his abilities, Niall knew he could never compete with people like Roosevelt or Dewey. As for the underworld? That was never part of the plan. He understood the trend of making money, but small money was easy, while big money was much harder to come by.
Suddenly, it felt like the American dream was harder to achieve than he thought.
The next morning, Frederick, with dark circles under his eyes, got up early to wash up, and Niall had no choice but to follow suit. Though the bed in their hotel suite was soft, neither of them had slept soundly that night.
There was a knock at the door—it was Meyer Lansky.
He looked well-rested, showing no signs of fatigue. Niall suspected that Meyer simply had a strong mental fortitude, having faced far more dangerous situations in his life than this one. He was calm, perhaps having survived worse assassination attempts before.
With a slight apology, Meyer seemed ready to share breakfast with Niall and Frederick. A cart full of food was pushed in, but none of them were in the mood to eat.
After sitting down, Meyer first thanked Niall, acknowledging that Niall's quick warning had given him the chance to evade the attack. The reward was straightforward: a check for five thousand dollars. Niall didn't hesitate and accepted it, knowing that playing games with gangsters was unnecessary—being direct was the best way to earn their respect.
Sure enough, when Meyer saw that Niall didn't flinch or refuse, he considered Niall someone reliable—someone who could be trusted when it came to business. A person like Niall, who was straightforward, could be a good ally when it was beneficial, and could be easily discarded when it no longer served their interests.
Meyer then spoke about the assassination attempt, confirming that it was all about the competition for profits—someone wanted Meyer dead to gain control of his operations.
Initially, Charlie Luciano had been the target, but he had been imprisoned for his role in the prostitution ring. Since it was harder to act against him in prison, the plot shifted to kill Meyer instead. But now, with the attempt failing, Meyer's guard was up even higher.
"As for the Italian gang, they've never been united. It's been like this for a long time," Meyer said with a hint of dissatisfaction, suggesting that the Italian mobsters were never truly loyal.