Washington, FBI Headquarters. Kent walked into Hoover's office with dark circles under his eyes.
As soon as he entered, Hoover's face turned cold. He picked up a book and hurled it at Kent.
"Did I not tell you explicitly not to make any reckless moves in Virginia? What the hell did you do, Kent?! You couldn't even control your own men, and you went and investigated the Governor of Virginia?"
Kent had come in ready to claim credit. He froze, completely stunned by this outburst.
"Give me the film," Hoover demanded.
"I don't understand, sir," Kent said stiffly.
"What don't you understand? This is the FBI, not Congress. Without authorization, we don't have the right to investigate a sitting governor."
Hoover sounded exasperated, like he was scolding a child.
"But we have the archives room. If you want, we can immediately get approval to investigate Clint," Kent argued.
"Listen to me carefully, Kent. You work for me. We don't work for Leo," Hoover snapped. "And don't treat my archives room like it's some kind of weapon. Naive!"
Seeing Kent still looking blank, Hoover sighed heavily.
How he wished his protégé were someone like Leo—someone who understood things with just a hint.
Hoover's secret files only let him maintain political independence and keep weaker politicians in line. He knew perfectly well they couldn't truly threaten the biggest players.
He could use them once—his target would fall, but Hoover himself would go down too.
That was Hoover's personal code. It was also the way the FBI survived.
"Get the hell out. Go to Las Vegas. And try to learn something from this fiasco."
Kent blinked.
"But... Gerald just went there."
"That idiot was even dumber than you. He's already dead. The mob's getting worse out there. Go prove your worth, Kent."
Meanwhile, in Richmond's Monroe Park District, a Cadillac rumbled along the street.
Inside sat Tamar Dov, officially a construction businessman but in reality the Jewish mob's number two in Richmond. He looked smug and delighted.
Even though they'd failed to disrupt Leo's company that day, the Gurian family still valued him highly.
With their financial backing, Tamar's Jewish crew had united other Jewish gangs and driven those upstart country hicks back in retreat after retreat.
On top of that, his construction firm was raking in profits thanks to a building contract with the Rendo Company.
But what really had him excited was the new direct line he'd established to Governor's son Eddie.
Just yesterday, Eddie had skipped his usual channel—Herbert—and contacted Tamar directly, demanding that he speed up the purge of those "country boys."
That very night, Tamar had rounded up his men to hit one of their bases in Monroe Park.
He'd personally come along today because he'd heard they'd found a safe at the site.
Tamar was a frugal man. He didn't trust anyone else to crack open a safe full of cash from a gambling or extortion hub.
He walked in and saw the old-style safe sitting on the table.
In his experience, these were always stuffed with dirty money.
What a nice surprise.
"Boss, our locksmith is on the way," one of his men said.
"Locksmith? Screw that. Give me the gun."
He shoved the barrel right into the lock.
BOOM!
A brilliant flower of fire bloomed on the outskirts of Monroe Park.
At the same time, gunfire, ambushes, and explosions erupted in quiet corners all over Richmond.
The heads of the various Jewish gangs who'd been pressing the Lynchburg crew died or were maimed in a single coordinated wave.
Highland neighborhood.
Leo had just seen Fess out the door after another demand for money.
He sat down to tally his funds and felt the pressure closing in.
Even though they'd pulled their lines back, the enemy attacks—plus the cost of the night's assassinations, medical payments, death benefits—were burning through cash at an insane rate.
If Dick in Lynchburg hadn't pulled strings and secured a mortgage loan for him under immense pressure, Leo's cash flow would have collapsed completely.
Just then, a $300,000 check appeared in front of him.
Leo looked up to see Emily giving him a gentle smile.
"I believe in you, Leo. This hardship is only temporary, isn't it?"
Her warmth and support moved him deeply. He hugged her tightly—this woman who'd given everything to him without asking for anything in return.
Maybe it was time to give this kind, loyal girl a real home.
As for Evelyn… Well, he chuckled to himself. That refined but untamed spirit?
Come on. Leo had dreams as big as the stars and sea. He wanted everything.
He didn't even have to ask where Emily had gotten the $300,000. He could guess easily: she'd almost certainly mortgaged the land Michael had left her.
He was touched. But he also knew: even this money would only last him about a week at current burn rates.
He still needed at least fifteen days to finish construction on the suburban housing development and start his counteroffensive.
Just then there was another knock at the door.
When he opened it, he found seven or eight members of the Richmond Real Estate Association standing outside.
They didn't even bother coming in. They just handed over checks.
Leo frowned.
"Gentlemen, what is this?"
"Mr. Leo, you kept East District and Monroe Park safe. You made it possible for us to do business in peace. Consider this our contribution to the cause," said one developer.
"That's right, Mr. Valentino. I've built a lot of houses in my life. Your suburban design is the most reasonable, best thought-out plan I've ever seen. And you shared it with us freely. That's the mark of a true gentleman. Please accept this as our thanks."
Most of those who'd come weren't the big companies with political connections.
They were the small-timers forced into the association for safety—guys who might be able to build ten houses at best, or were just independent contractors.
Leo's expression softened.
"Thank you, gentlemen. When the storm passes, I won't forget the help you've given me."
After seeing them off, Leo counted the checks.
They totaled $500,000.
Enough to keep the lights on through this desperate stretch.
As he went back inside, Leo noticed something in the mailbox.
He pulled out an unmarked envelope. Inside was a short, familiar note in Kent's handwriting:
"Clint is sleeping with his son's wife. Hope this helps you, Commander. I'm heading to Las Vegas. Take care."
Leo felt a pang.
He wasn't naïve enough to think one scandal could topple a state governor.
But it might just serve as the final nail in Clint's political coffin someday.
More than that, though, he was genuinely saddened to see Kent go.
Kent's intelligence work had been critical to wiping out the Jewish gangs' leadership.
That night, Leo got a call from Thomas.
"You did well this time. The Jews who took losses are screaming at Clint to intervene. Idiots. Don't they realize the big tour groups from other states are about to come see the project? Clint can't risk being tied to the mob right now.
But once the project's finished, no more big moves, okay? Richmond has to be stable for all of us to prosper."
"Understood, sir," Leo said.
"Hold on. Harry wants a word."
Leo waited.
Then Harry's voice came on, sounding impressed.
"Lucky bastard. Tomorrow we're coming to your hotel.
There's a very important man who wants to see you there."