For nearly two months, Rawley has successfully operated Eagle & Crown Incorporated. Marred with setbacks, those eight weeks he sought nothing more than to eek out a bit of profit for himself and his crew through an arrangement with a small operation based in London. Though Rawley's humble origins made him unabashedly American, Rawley's travels from the United Kingdom to the United States marked the beginning of his career in organized crime.

That arrangement was simple- Rawley sought out opportunities to ship simple, quality goods from American wholesalers to ship across the Atlantic. These shipments would arrive under the radar, evade customs, and be stockpiled in warehouses owned by his associates to be sold on the black market- beyond the prying eyes and fingers of the rationing market controls that loomed over London. And when his ship returned, its cargo would be stolen goods too suspicious to fence in Great Britain.

The first shipment went off without a hitch. Though it took some time to find a fence willing to take on a large collection of jewelry, Rawley made a quick profit. But shortly after, due to some poor vetting and security on his part, Rawley's stash of cash was stolen from him, leaving him with no means to pay the wholesalers for the next shipment to London. The agreement he'd made with his counterparts would break down after a single transaction. He wouldn't allow it to happen.

After joining the Ndrangheta crew, Rawley was connected to a Philly financier from whom he could borrow to finance the wholesale shipment that needed shipper out. Though he despised going into debt to build up his operation, he was left with no choice. As his shipment went out, Rawley flew to New York to fence the last of his jewels, hoping to get a good enough price to put a hefty payment down on his new loan. Without it, the vig was gonna eat so much into his profits that he'd barely break even by the time the next shipment arrived.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and the next shipment is everything he needed it to be. Seems things were running pretty smoothly on the other side of the Atlantic- so much so that his accomplices wanted to increase the volume of their shipment. Rawley sought to fence the jewels quickly so he could connect with new wholesalers- the longer his ship sat in the harbor, the more money he lost. Though he'd always been a patient man, the urgency of the moment got the best of him. His fence stole a handful of the jewels he needed to sell, and an hour later he was arrested in collaboration with a Casino money-laundering scheme with the now-deceased MeyerLanskey and Tommy_Vitale.

It took almost two weeks to turn things around- to put the rat bastard in the dirt, fence the rest of the stolen jewels, and get his shipment back on course. But what Rawley didn't realize, was that the situation had changed for his Londoner colleagues. While Rawley had successfully fenced a large stack of British bearer bonds- courtesy of some help from a connection in New York- he was eager to see what he'd received in return for the latest shipment.

As he began to pry open the crates loaded into his warehouse by the dockworkers he had on his payroll, the sounds of footsteps scampering across the concrete floor alerted him. As he placed the lid of the crate on the ground, he didn't see a pile of gold, bearer bonds, or jewelry. It was empty. "They asked me to double the shipments for this?" He thought to himself. His attention immediately shifted to the footsteps he'd heard from across the warehouse.

"Who's there?" Rawley said, looking at his watch. One of his bodyguards quickly brought a young brit out into the dim light of the warehouse's overheads. "Who the fuck are you? And what are you doing with my shit?"

The presence of Rawley's protection detail made any amount of intimidation unnecessary. The young lad- likely seventeen or eighteen- clutched his hat and stood a few feet away.

"I'm on your side, y'know." He said, stepping forward to point at the crate. "I know why it's empty. They're fucking you."

Rawley looked down at the empty crate and then back at the young boy. Taking the opportunity to light up a cigarette, he let the two of them sit in silence for a moment. After taking a long drag, he looked him in the eyes. "What's your name, boy?"

"Noel."

"And how do you know what you're saying?"

"Because the men you work with tried to kill me. I stole away on your ship but not before nabbing this-" Noel's hand stretched out and in his uncurled fingers lay a strip of paper. Rawley took it from his hand and read it. It was a notice that future shipments made by his boat were to be seized by the authorities.

"Seized, huh?"

"That's why they asked you to double the shipment- they knew it'd be the last you'd ever send. Before you lost everything."

Rawley investigated the note closely, then looked Noel up and down. "So why are you here? Why were they after you?"

"Because I was a loose end. You well know this business doesn't suit loose ends. I was the only one on the docks who hadn't been pinched or shot, and I thought my time was comin'."

"No, I can see it doesn't. But from what I'm seeing, this sounds like an opportunity." Rawley said with a grin. He took a cigarette out of his coat pocket and offered it to Noel. "Would you like to work for me?"

Noel's eyes opened wide and a small grin stretched across his face. "Aye, sir."

"Business is gonna change, and you're gonna be my new front-man in London."

A few days later, Rawley had made the finishing touches on his new plan. After spending some time in Philly, he realized that the narcotics business was far more lucrative than trying to fence stolen European jewelry. He could export the product, and the risk that comes with distributing it, and leave it to his new-found associate Noel to carry on his business in London. His operation was evolving into something bigger, more grandiose. He met with Noel one final time before sending him off.

"First order of business- here is your new identity. You are now a proud American and my liaison to our legitimate affiliates in your hometown. Try to lay low if you spend time with any known associates, as you'll be under scrutiny when you arrive." Rawley handed a few pages of documentation, as well as all the registration information for the ship he'd be taking there.

"The ship has been repainted and re-christened. It now ships exclusively wholesale cargo in total compliance with Great British customs enforcement. Hidden within the vessel will be a sizable supply- about fifty pounds- of cocaine. That is our new business model. Goods and drugs go out, money comes back."

"As for our former associates, I've sent advanced word to have nearly all of them arrested- you'll be called upon to identify them when you arrive. They'll get at least twenty years. Enough for us to complete our business in peace."

"Finally, you'll establish a well-financed network of your own. You'll need lawyers. Accountants. Dockworkers and warehouse leases. Not to mention getting some cops, counselors, and ministers on the payroll. You handle all of this, and I'll make you one of the wealthiest man your age in all of London."

Noel had spent the last few days following Rawley around and getting a better understanding of how he operated. The focus was clear- networks meant everything. Using an established network is easier than making your own, but only if it's reliable. Always work within the bounds of the law until you can't, but keep the two separated so it doesn't trace back. If you have employees on one side, don't let them interact with associates on the other. Most of all, keep it simple.

Rawley saw fit to send aboard a small contingent of Philadelphia men he trusted for the first two weeks. After that, they'd return home after making sure Noel's work was completed as needed.

With his former associates busted, his ship loaded with goods and the product, and his new liaison ready as ever to make the leap to the big-time, Rawley took a moment to sit at the harbor with him before his departure. He reflected on that urgency that had caused issues for him in the past, and making sure he'd taken his time to put this new initiative in place. It would take time to scale up and settle in, but the new phase of the Eagle and Crown had begun and a very bright future lay ahead for him, his business, and his city.

The anxious wait made time move so slowly for Rawley. Though he'd found a way to turn a profit stateside, he remained entranced by opportunities across the ocean. Finding value and profit by bringing the two countries together- matching the strengths of one with the weaknesses of the other. The transition to heroin and cocaine left him deflated- as his operation now was nothing more than a drug smuggling ring. A hopefully successful one, but still lacked the kind of intuition that had earned him his millions prior.

Passing the time until Noel's arrival was difficult. He'd spend some time at the Mayor's Den in Philly with his pals, but a thought lurked in his mind- what if he'd sent his new agent and his ship into a trap? Fortunately, copious booze and lovely ladies were enough to distract him in the nighttime. Rawley had made a habit of lingering by the phone for hours until he was certain it was too late to receive a call, that's when he'd hit the speakeasy. There were nights he wouldn't even bother to go home, he'd just stroll back to the office and wait for that call.

Brrrring. Brrrrring.

Rawley panicked, looking around like an alarm had gone off. He'd been dozing, and by the look of the windows outside it was mid-afternoon. He answers the phone quickly.

"Noel?" He asked, without even saying "hello". A smile crept across his face when the familiar voice and accent delivered good news. The ship had arrived late in the night. "That is fantastic news. And what of our product?"

Rawley nodded as he listened. Noel used the late arrival to scope out some of the operations in town and found a dealer on the south side that was looking to move up with a new connect bringing in dope.

The deal he'd struck with Noel was pretty simple- Noel himself possessed claimed access to the product being shipped overseas. The money he'd make from selling the dope would go straight to Rawley, but Noel sold access to that product by the shipment. Rawley had no interest in any new deals or offers outside of the one he'd brokered with Noel. It also meant that Noel didn't have to wait for the product to sell to earn some money.

"Well done, Noel. Truly a job well done. Get yourself some proper threads so you can offload the rest of our shipment, then send 'er right back." "Sounds good." Rawley said and hung up the phone.

Leaning back in his chair, a wave of relief washed over him. Noel had arrived safely, their product had a buyer, and within a few short days his men would be on their way back with a nice stack of cash. Whatever doubts Rawley had about the pivot in his business model, they were quickly fading.

The brisk January air seeped in through Rawley's thick winter coat. He was on his second visit today- this time a laundromat- to see what product would be available at the front properties managed by his fellow Philadelphia mobsters. The first was a bit of a letdown. With only a small stockpile of opium, it would barely even be worth the shipping cost to get it overseas. He needed heroin. Cocaine. Anything short of that and he'd be losing money.

Entering the laundromat, he saw two burly men smoking cigarettes near the back of the facility with their feet up on the desk. As Rawley entered, he simply asked to speak whomever was currently in charge. Thankfully, Godfather Chairman Cadhla had seen fit to promote him to Made Man, giving his name a bit more weight with the local muscle. One stood up and escorted Rawley back down a narrow hallway and knocked twice on a firmly locked door.

As it opened, Rawley smiled and nodded his head. "This is perfect," he thought to himself. Inside was a full-fledged operation that likely netted hundreds of pounds of dope per week.

"I'm Rawley, nice to meet you," Rawley said, extending his hand for a shake. The man opposite him was short and shrewd with a thick black mustache and shook his hand quickly before leading him around. "We can do fifty if you can do fifty. We have standing agreements for the rest, so if you want more you'll be paying a premium."

"How clean is it?" Rawley asked, knowing the propensity for cheaper operations to dilute the product or lace it.

"We don't do that here. It's pure as it came off the boat."

"Perfect. I'll take the fifty, what's the premium for the rest?"

"It's a seventy-five percent markup on the remaining one hundred and twenty five pounds."

Rawley was stunned. Even if his ship were running without a single day of rest, he probably couldn't ship that much. To get that kind of product moving he'd need... "Fuck, why didn't I think of that sooner?" He'd need a second ship.

"We'll start with the fifty, then. I'll send an associate to pick it up." Rawley again shook the man's hand and walked back out the way he came. The concept of building his own fleet of drug-smuggling transport ships had just occurred to him. Whatever one ship could do, two ships could do so much more.

Rawley drew his small black notebook from his breast pocket and crossed out the remaining two front properties. He'd found what he needed, all that was left to do was put the pieces together. Off-load the risk of distribution by shipping the product in bulk overseas. He needed to confirm with Noel that an increase in supply was possible.

Back at this office, Lilah smiled and told him that Noel called- leaving a short message:

All product moved off of ship. Cargo passed customs. Cargo sold. Ship will begin return voyage by end of day.

"That's fantastic news, Lilah. Thank you." Things were going smoothly. Which is precisely why it made him nervous. There were too many pieces to this puzzle for everything to go according to plan.

The calendar on the wall of Rawley's office had each of the important days marked clearly- when Noel arrived, when the ship began its voyage back, and when he could expect to see it arrive in the harbor. In high spirits, Rawley scheduled a meeting with a transatlantic shipping company to discuss the prospect of leasing one of their ships- or even buying it outright. The meeting wasn't for another few hours, so Rawley indulged in a cigar and a couple fingers of whiskey to pass the time.

Even if he were able to successfully lease the ship, he'd need to double the legitimate cargo he was transporting as well. Doubling the cost, doubling the risk, but at the same time; doubling the reward. He'd have to wait until his ship returned to make a decision, so the meeting he'd scheduled was primarily focused on gathering information and seeing what kind of costs would be associated with setting up a second vessel.

When the man arrived, Rawley shook his hand and smiled, leading him back into his office which now smelled of thick cigar smoke. The man was dressed nicer than Rawley expected, placing his hat and briefcase on one chair and seating himself in the other.

"Our leasing options are straightforward and set out in our contractual agreements with partners in Europe and Africa. The primary factors of coordinating these lease options are tonnage and time at sea, which.."

The man was talking, but Rawley's focus had shifted inexorably to his calendar. Wishing time could move a little faster, including expediting the details of this meeting. After about three minutes of shipping-jargon rambling, Rawley cut him off by placing five hundred dollar bills on his desk in front of the man.

"Simplify. I want to ship cargo across the Atlantic. Give me your best number for using your ship to do it."

"An all-inclusive number would look something like $900,000 for the lease and then you'd pay the costs associated with the voyages themselves- the crew, the fuel, insurance, customs, etc."

"Perfect. Tell your boss to prepare a contract that describes exactly what you've said here. I will know in a few days if this will work with my plan."

The phone rang at Lilah's desk. Answering it precisely as she's instructed to do, she quickly stood up and opened the door to Rawley's office.

"Call for you. It's urgent."

"Perfect timing," Rawley thought to himself. He stood up and quickly ushered his guest out of his office, making sure each of those hundred dollar bills found their way into his pocket. "Get that all ready for us, and we'll go from there. Thanks!"

Rawley quickly got back to his desk. "Urgent" could mean a lot of things, and none of them were good. It was Noel, who was breathing heavily into the line.

"Aye, sir. We got hit at the docks before your boys could cast off. It's not good."

"Fuck." Rawley said audibly into the receiver. Here he was concerned with starting a fleet, when his only ship can't even leave the docks without his men getting shot at.