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The bar was typically what you'd expect to find of an establishment owned by the mob in 1920's Philadelphia. From the outside it was nothing special, bland to the point of anonyminity save for the lone man standing roughly three feet from the door, dressed in a heavy woollen overcoat and a fedora pulled low over his eyes. If you were just passing, you wouldn't afford him a second glance, but if for any particular reason you were keeping an eye on the place you would surely notice he never deviated from his position, until such a time when an equally unidentifable man replaced him some hours later. Basically, they were bouncers for a joint that didn't want to make it obvious it had bouncers.
Inside, the opposite held true. 10 minutes in this place would have you thinking that the Volstead Act was part of your imagination and there was no such thing as prohibiton. The guys who frequented this place laid off money to everyone. Local cops, the DA's office, The Feds, the Judges. Everyone got a taste. Whilst the rest of America was mired in recession and depression, business was booming for the Mob and everyone, no matter how 'scrupulous' they wanted to be, craved some of the action.
It was this bar that Noah Levenstein hurried to tonight. At 47 years old, he didn't consider himself old, but he definitely felt the winters much more keenly than he did in his youth. Bowing his head so his chin nestled into his chest and wrapping his overcoat more tightly around himself before digging his hands deep into his pockets, he hurried the last few minutes to the bar, softly cursing Jaqen every name he could think of in Hebrew along the way.
Even on the best of days, he liked to be done by around seven or eight. He was an attorney by trade, and his work for the Faceless Men largely allowed him to keep 'office hours'. His son Jim was only 7, and Noah relished the time he spent with the happy little boy. He loved his wife more and more as each year passed, and it always ruined his day if she was asleep when he got home - she was his best friend and confidant, so it irked him when Jaqen called him at home at 10pm on a Saturday night and told him to drop everything and get to the bar as soon as he could. He resented it, but ultimately Jaqen was his Boss, and Noah was a loyal man.
Noah despised Saturday nights, too. Saturday Night was 'girlfriend night' - when all the guys brought their broads and mistresses down to the bar. Noah always hated that, he'd been faithful to his wife since their very first date, and the whole idea of whores and mistresses and all of that crap just made him awkward and uncomfortable. The joking and joshing from the guys didn't bothe him - you only got made fun of if you were highly thought of. It was just the whole thing, it seemed seedy.
It was with these thoughts in mind that he reached the bar and noticed a fancy automobile - a Buick - with a license plate he didn't notice parked at the sidewalk opposite the bar. With his huge eyebrows knitted togther in frustration, he made his way to the lone sentry on the door.
"Oy! This guy, here! What, Leon, you get paid to stand here doing nothing all day? For all that's holy, you're sitting here with a thumb in your ass, and meanwhile this car is parked up. What are you gonna do about gumbo?!"
The man looked worried, but set his jaw firmly and doffed his hat slightly as he began to speak in a baritone, slightly dopey kind of way
"Gee, I'm real sorry Mr. Levenstein but I can't do nuttin'. The guy's a fed! He told me so, showed me his badge and it's all real too!"
Muttering to himself, Noah shook his head and made his way over to the car, rapping sharply on the window pane with his knuckles. As the window looked down, he had a furtive look behind him to check Leon was still there. Physically, Noah was a relatively weak man and he hated confrontation. Seeing that he was, Noah turned back and spoke first, trying to seize the initiative.
"Good evening, Agent. my name's Noah Levenstein, attorney at law, could I see your badge please? And may I ask what you're doing here at such an unsociable hour?"
Dark as it was, Noah saw the beginnings of smiles on the faces of the two men in the car, and it was the senior of the two who began to speak as they handed over their badges - Special Agent Goldstein and Agent Wilson. Noah memorised the names.
"Levenstein eh? You know, I could bullshit you all night and tell you we're here for the scenery, but since you're a fellow Lansman, I'm going to lay it out straight for you. You know there's a breach of the Volsted act going on inside that bar, I know it, and so does my other agent here. In addition to that, we have reason to believe that extortion, blackmail, money laundering, embezzlement and even murder; or conspiracy to commit such crimes, are going on inside that bar.
As he spoke, the agent flipped idly through a notepad, but Noah raised his voice slightly to get his attention, jabbing his finger sharply.
"Now you listen here. You want to talk about what we both know? I know that's bullshit and so do you. If you had anything, anything at all, then you wouldn't be sitting out here freezing your asses off! You'd be busting in with search warrants and warrants for arrest. If you don't stop harrassing my client, I will fucking bury you under paperwork. I'll file motions in the courts, I'll put complaints into your field office, you won't be able to move, son!"
Nothing he said wiped the grin off the man's face, and it was when he retorted that Noah realised why.
"Well, Mr. Levenstein, I'm not exactly sure I follow? We certainly have reason to believe such activities of this bar. As yet, we don't know the identity of the owner - the client that you represent - so how could we possibly be harrassing an individual?"
Swearing, Noah turned on his heel and barged into the bar without another word. Ignoring the majority of people, he made straight for Jaqen, who was sitting toward the back with a small group of people, and bent down to speak directly into his ear.
"We need to talk, in private, there's feebies outside the bar."
Jaqen nodded almost imperceptibly, rising at once and weaving through tables in his private office. Noah followed closely on his heels, not bothering to motion for a drink. If anyone noticed this exchange, they gave no sign of it, as was the custom. Once the office door closed, Jaqen spoke quietly and closely.
"This is why I've called you in, they've been there for two days and it's making me nervous. They aren't men that I can just disappear; and if I try to have them bought off I may as well just indict myself. What our options Noah?"
Before answering, Noah shrugged off his overcoat and took off his hat before sinking into one of the leather couches, sighing deeply as he did so.
"Not a lot, legally. Fuck. These guys are no schmucks. Have they followed you anywhere? Or anyone else?" Jaqen signalled a no. "We don't have many options, then. They haven't followed anyone or tried to make any untoward contact, and they're only sitting at the bar. The only option we could have at the moment is to file a harrassment suit, but we'd have to name a plaintiff. It's exactly what they want, even then it'd go nowhere. They're sitting outside of a place, they're not hurting anyone. Let them sit there, they can't do shit and they'll get bored eventually"
Jaqen shook his head again.
"Not an option, Noah. We have a corpse in the basement and it needs to go tonight. There's one exit in this place and these Feds are looking at them. We need them gone, and we need them gone now."
Noah felt his vision blur and a wave of nausea passed over him. Shit wasn't supposed to get like this. He'd been with 'The Mob' for nearly 20 years now, but never considered himself as a 'member' or an associate. He always liked to view himself as outside help. As a connected guy, but not someone fully involved. He was a lawyer for the love of God! Had he always been lying to himself? Or was tonight the night things would change for him? With his heart in his mouth and his stomach somehwere beneath the floorboards, another thought occured to him; they had his name and if this body were found, he was surely going to be indicted on accessory to murder. Fuck fuck fuck.
"The issue's a practical one then, Jaqen, not a legal one. They may as well be sitting there with fishing rods, hoping to get a catch. Send someone out there to talk with Leon about a job or something like that. Something that's not too obvious but enough that it would draw the Feds away, thinking they finally had a bite. Then, you use that time to clear things up here."
At this, Jaqen nodded and looked pointedly at Noah, who looked back in confusion. The silence stretched to an eternity until understanding dawned on him and he paled slightly.
"No, not...not me, surely? I can't do this Jaqen, I'm not cut out for this! I don't even..."
"There's no other option, Noah. You've been a good friend to me, and fantastic legal counsel. I never wanted you involved in the nitty gritty, but this is the best position you can be in. If you're the ones to draw these guys out, you'll be fine. If you're in this place when we get busted with a dead body in here, you're as fucked as the rest of us."
After making some hasty arrangements, Noah left to talk to Leon and Jaqen thought on the matter pensievely. Noah was an interesting guy. Jittery as fuck, certainly not cut out for the 'rough stuff' in the business, but he was incredibly intelligent, but was his heart in it, truly? Originally a prosecutor, Noah had been tipped for the DA spot and a career in politics before he jumped the bar and worked as a defense lawyer, realising how much better the money was. Jaqen didn't care about his beginnings as a prosector, everyone started somewhere and Noah had proved his loyalty many times. He'd done some digging too, and found that despite his Jewish father, his mother's side was all Sicilian. He could make him, and Jaqen decided that if he excelled in this task then he would. A quick thinker with a prodiguous knowledge of the law would be absolutely invaluable as a button man. |
