Chapter 76: Chapter 68: Thank God? You Should Thank Li Wei

"First, explain to me what a caporegime is," Li Wei said. "Otherwise, I can’t properly assess the situation."

"The Italian Mafia families divide their members into six ranks," Don Quixote explained. "The Boss, Underboss, Consigliere, Caporegime—which is a figure like Leto who manages a territory—Soldier, and Associate. There are still several ranks above someone in Leto’s position."

"So, the higher-ups will suspect Leto is a traitor?" Li Wei asked. "And then they’ll clean house on his entire line?"

"That’s right," Don Quixote nodded, waving the ledger in his hand. "They’ll most likely abandon these assets that are now at risk of exposure. And that’s when we move in and snap them up."

"So," Li Wei said, "we don’t need to threaten them anymore?"

"No need. I previously thought they all belonged to different capos, and I wasn’t expecting to get my hands on the original ledger. My best-case scenario for Jose was that he’d be able to secretly take a picture or something," Don Quixote said, shaking his head. "Plans need to be adjusted on the fly. Since there’s a safer way, there’s no need to take the risk."

"Now, all we have to do is send this anonymous email," he said. "The rest has nothing to do with us."

...

Leto was frantically stuffing cash and passports into his bag, filled with overwhelming regret.

He regretted wasting a full six hours last night, frantically searching the construction site for the lost ledger like a madman. If he had left the moment the power went out, he might be in Miami by now, or Southeast Asia...

But he couldn’t accept it. He thought he’d just gotten high and carelessly lost it somewhere. Or maybe, he just wasn’t willing to give up the empire he’d spent over 20 years building since he started running the streets at 17.

He gave his Manhattan apartment one last look, then quickly went downstairs and into the underground garage.

A few minutes later, a Maserati drove out of the garage.

’Maybe they don’t know the ledger’s gone yet?’ Leto thought. ’After all, it’s only been one night.’

"Vaffanculo..." he cursed under his breath. "Who the hell took the ledger?"

There were too many suspicious things about last night.

The guards outside had somehow been taken down without a fight, and both of the backup generators had been destroyed.

The locked office door had been opened without a sound, and the ledger had vanished into thin air...

He really couldn’t figure out how someone could take down four armed, burly men with their bare hands without making a sound. Was the guy Captain America? Or Spider-Man? Batman?

Just as he was about to drive out of the garage, two pitch-black vans suddenly cut in from the side without any warning, precisely blocking his escape route.

Two men in dark blue work clothes and masks got out.

They weren’t holding guns and didn’t even look menacing. One of them knocked on Leto’s window. "Leto, the Consigliere is waiting for you."

...

「One hour later. A warehouse in the Brooklyn Suburbs with a sign that read ’Waste Disposal Center’.」

Under the stark white lights, a middle-aged Italian man sat on a folding chair, looking at the odds on a few betting websites on his phone.

Behind him, two men were laying down thick, industrial-grade, impermeable plastic sheeting on the floor.

"Leto, sit." He didn’t look up, just pointed to a stool in the middle of the plastic sheet.

"Consigliere... I’m on it..." Leto collapsed onto the stool. "Give me seven days... No, three days! I’ll definitely get the ledger back."

"I haven’t even told you why I sent for you," the Consigliere said. "Why are you already confessing?"

Leto’s expression froze. He was about to say something else.

"Shh," the Consigliere just waved his hand. "Just wait..."

Leto just trembled, looking around nervously.

Maybe three minutes passed, maybe an eternity.

The Consigliere sighed and put down his phone. The look on his face was not pleasant.

"I just lost 100,000 USD," he said. "Leto, do you think that’s a lot?"

"Not a lot... a lot..." Leto stammered, his words a jumbled mess. "A lot... it’s a lot!"

"It is a lot, isn’t it," the Consigliere nodded. "But you lost the ledger. That means at least 276 debtors, 7 distributors, and 3 companies on this line have all become risky assets that could be investigated by the DEA, IRS, or FBI at any moment. How many hundreds of thousands do you think that’s worth?"

"But..." Leto still wanted to defend himself. "I can get it back, I promise."

Hearing Leto’s words, the Consigliere just smiled.

He took out his phone, scrolled through his photo album, and then held it in front of Leto.

"You still don’t get what’s happening, do you?" he said. "You lost the ledger last night, and today we got an email from them demanding 10 million USD!"

Seeing the screenshot of the email, Leto’s mind just exploded.

He had no idea what was going on, no clue who he had provoked, or who could have possibly pulled off something like that last night.

"So, about the ledger being stolen," the Consigliere asked, "do you have any leads? Who could have done it?"

"It was..." Leto swallowed hard. "It was Batman! It definitely wasn’t a human!"

The Consigliere snorted with laughter.

"What do you think this is, a comic book?" he retorted. "Or some Hollywood movie? A novel? You’re already bringing up Batman, so why not just say an invisible man with superhuman strength swaggered in yesterday and took your ledger?"

"Then..." Leto said blankly, "what do we do now?"

He was stingy and greedy, but even after scrambling for over twenty years, his personal cash on hand was only a few million USD. A 10 million USD demand...

"Of course we won’t agree. Giving in once just means we’ll have to give in again and again," the Consigliere said. "So, because of you, you idiot, we need to clean out your entire line and completely abandon these assets."

"This isn’t personal, Leto," he sighed again. "We’ll provide a monthly stipend for your two mistresses and three illegitimate children until they’re old enough to become soldiers in their own right. But someone has to take responsibility for this. Understand?"

He turned his head and instructed the person beside him:

"You’re new, so remember to pull out his teeth. That’s the hardest part to corrode, so it has to be handled separately," he said. "Don’t use a saw, it’s not effective... Get the quicklime and industrial-grade alkali ready. Remember, when you’re cutting, sever the joint ligaments first. It makes him easier to carry. Be careful not to damage the bones."

Leto watched the cleaner expressionlessly pull on a pair of latex gloves, watched that huge, empty barrel reeking of pungent chemicals, and the fear, anger, and despair that had been building up all night finally erupted.

’That’s not something a human could do! What does it have to do with me? It would’ve happened to anyone!’

He lunged forward with a beast-like roar: "Fuck you!"

"THUMP."

A dull thud from a silenced pistol. The bullet passed cleanly through the back of Leto’s head. His momentum carried him forward, and he collapsed heavily onto the impermeable sheeting without any further struggle.

"Who told you to use a gun?!"

The Consigliere turned to the soldier, exasperated. "Don’t you know skulls and brains are expensive!"

"Great!" He threw up his hands. "That’s 4,000 USD gone, just like that. I’m taking it out of your bonus!"

With that, he took out his phone again, opened the betting website, and placed another 50,000 USD bet on a football game.

For him, it was no longer about winning or losing. Only high-stakes bets like this could give his heart a jolt of excitement, even if he never paid any attention to this kind of minor league.

The next day, Don Quixote learned through his contacts at the construction site that Leto had been missing for a full day.