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 Post subject: Crime Time
PostPosted: Fri Nov 20, 2015 11:05 am 

Joined: Wed Jan 14, 2015 2:37 pm
Posts: 658
Here follows the first part of 'Crime Time', my vey first alternate TL. I began working on it in 2013.

Input and comments are welcome.

Crime Time
Date: February 13th, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel, 2135 South Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois.
Time: 7:30 AM

This morning, the occupant of Suite #530 rises and gets ready for the day’s business. After having breakfast with some of his associates, the gentleman in question sits down at his desk. He is just about to make a phone call when he notices a large envelope on the desk in front of him. Written on the envelope in a fine, flowing hand is the following inscription:

‘Mr. Alphonse Capone
Lexington Hotel, Chicago, Illinois’

The Big Man’s blood runs cold as he thinks about someone could possibly get into his office. Angrily, he shouts “FRANKIE, JACK!! GET YOUR BUTTS IN HERE RIGHT NOW!!!”

Thinking that the Boss is in danger, Frankie Yale and Jack McGurn come running with their Thompson Sub-Machineguns at the ready. Following close behind them is Louie Campagna with a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun and two Colt commercial-model .38-Super automatic pistols. Capone is furious as he splutters “Will you cement-heads tell me how some guy got past all of you and into my office?? TELL ME!!!” Louie Campagna is the first to respond. He says “Boss, I’ve been outside the door all night long. Didn’t see no one coming or going. Frankie and Jack had their choppers and were covering the hallway from both directions.”

Frankie Yale says “Boss, Louie’s right. We didn’t see anyone coming up the stairs or on the hallway that didn’t need to be there.”

“Alright, you three. Sit down while I try to figure this out.”

Jack McGurn says “Ok, Boss. Maybe you oughta read the note.”

Al Capone opens the envelope and begins to read.

‘Mr. Capone, I should like to be given an interview with you. I trust my note has garnered your attention. I am in the lobby of the Lexington as you read this, and I have introduced myself to your associate Mr. Accardo. I have given him an envelope with my bona fides and look forward to meeting you.’

To Jack McGurn, Capone says “Get Joe Batters up here right now.”

“Right, Boss.”

Ten minutes later Tony ‘Joe Batters’ Accardo comes into Al Capone’s office and says “Mr. Capone, you wouldn’t believed what just happened. Something like a half-hour ago, this huge guy I never saw walks up to me in the lobby and says the he wants to meet you. He told me that he already passed you a note. I was about to tell him to buzz off when he took a thick envelope out of his pocket. Here it is.”

Tony Accardo places the envelope on Capone’s desk. The Big Man opens it and finds, to his very great surprise that it is stuffed with money. In fact, there is fifty thousand dollars in cash; all new Series 1928 $500 bills from the Federal reserve Bank of Chicago.

“Ok, Joe. Where is this guy now?”

“Boss, I got him down in the lobby. He’s being watched by four torpedoes.”

“Alright. Bring him up here. Anyone who can afford to drop fifty large is a serious player.”

Just before 8:00 AM, two of Capone’s muscle men escort a mountainous individual into the Big Man’s office. This man stands nearly 7" and weighs 400 lbs. He is very well-dressed, and moves with a fluid, almost leonine grace that belies his vast size.

Capone looks the man over and says “Alright, you. I got your note. What makes you think you can come up here and not get taken out feet-first?”

The stranger gestures disarmingly and says “Mr. Capone, it wasn’t my attention to alarm you so. I simply wished to arrange a meeting. I trust that the second envelope meets with your approval?”

“Yeah, it does. You got my attention, so speak your piece.”

“Thank you, sir. My name is ‘Mr. Smith’, and I’m here to make you an offer you can’t (or at least shouldn’t) refuse.”

“What offer is that, punk?”

“Sir, I am going to show you how to make more money than you can spend in ten lifetimes. I will also increase the quality of your ‘muscle’ by a factor of ten-fold or more.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thank you, sir. Before I begin, may I remove my coat? It’s rather warm in here.”

Capone gestures in the affirmative, so Mr. Smith takes off his double-breasted suit coat, folds it and places the garment on Capone’s desk. Underneath, Mr. Smith is wearing a vest and a long-sleeve white shirt with bow-tie and a button-down collar. The vest is severely-plain, but is tailored in the best style. No decoration is present, except for a gold fountain pen and a pair of gold cuff links. Mr. Smith says “And now, to business. I have a 1930 Cadillac parked outside, and my sample case is in the back seat. Could I trouble one of your men to go and retrieve the case?”

Al Capone snaps his fingers towards Jack McGurn, who immediately runs off. Capone pours himself a glass of water from the cut-glass decanter on his desk. The water is cool, but there is a slight tingling sensation as he drinks it down.

Mr. Smith again speaks “Mr. Capone, Prohibition has allowed you and your associates to make a great deal of money. In fact, your operations in Chicago for the year of 1928 netted you some sixty million dollars. This situation won’t last forever. There are forces afoot here in the United States that will see Prohibition repealed no later than April of 1933. This will cause the market for your product to dry up overnight, as it were.”

Capone leans back in his desk chair and considers what he has heard, then he says “How do you propose that I replace that income?”

“Sir, I have it on good authority the State of Nevada is moving to legalize gambling. This won’t be taking place at least until early 1931. If you move now, you can get in on the ground floor of the market there. Get some property close to downtown in Vegas (such as it is), set up a few high-class establishments. Have them staffed by quality women whose charms are, shall we say ‘negotiable’; run the games fairly and honestly and you’ll get a rep that will have the public beating down your doors to get in.”

“What else, Smith? That can’t be all of what you have in mind.”

“No, sir. There is a good deal more. Right now, the economy of the United States is flying higher than a long-distance passenger plane. Like Prohibition, this too won’t last forever. In fact, there will be a severe economic downturn late in 1929 that will bring everything crashing down to Earth. There is still enough time for you and your associates to make some strategic investments, then get out of the market before Wall Street gets it in the back of the head.”

Just then, Jack McGurn comes into the room lugging a heavy black case. He says “Here it is, Boss. I can’t get it open; even tried taking a chisel to the lock.”

Capone says ”Well, Smith?”

“My apologies, sir. If you will please allow me?”

The Big Man nods silently, then Mr. Smith places his right hand on a smooth metal plate on the top of the case. There is a brief low of light, then the locks snap open. Mr. Smith steps back to allow McGurn and Frankie Yale to see what is inside. Certain of the contents aren’t recognizable, but what they do see as being somewhat familiar are a pair of rather boxy-looking handguns.

“Boss, there are guns in here.”

Al Capone glowers angrily and says “Smith, what do you mean by trying to get heaters in here past my boys?? I oughta have them take you for a ride.”

Mr. Smith again gestures disarmingly and says “Mr. Capone, my intention was not to threaten you or cause you undue alarm. The items you see in that case are examples of the merchandise I am offering to you and your organization. Before I begin my presentation, may I ask another favor?”

Capone grunts yes, so Mr. Smith asks “Would you please have Mr. Campagna draw one of his Colt .38-Supers that he carries in a double-shoulder holster and shoot me three times in the chest?”

“Alright, tough guy. Louie, give the man what he’s asking for.”

“Ok, Boss.” With practiced skill, Louis Campagna slides out one of his Colt Super-38s out of its holster and takes aim at Mr. Smith’s chest. He racks the slide, takes aim and squeezes the trigger three times in quick succession.


The empty cartridge casings go flying and then bounce off the floor of Capone’s office. Rather than collapsing and dying immediately from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, all Mr. Smith does is to loudly say “OOF”, followed by “Do you have any idea how much that stings??” This statement is followed up by a smug grin on Mr. Smith’s face. For once in their lives, Al Capone and his men are speechless. When the Big man recovers his wits, he says “Alright, Smith. Spill it. How come you aren’t lying dead in front of my desk?”

“It is very simple, Mr. Capone. I am wearing bullet-resistant armor. The material is built into my vest, and isn’t those cheap steel plates sewn into cloth that the ‘Boys In Blue’ like to wear sometimes. Instead, it is a special kind of cloth woven in a particular manner. If you wish, I can and will outfit you and your men with this armor. When someone is wearing it, they can ignore anything except a point-blank hit by armor-piercing ammunition fired out of a Browning Automatic Rifle. Getting shot while wearing this armor will feel like taking a line-drive from Babe Ruth to the mid-section; it won’t be comfortable, but at least, the individual concerned won’t be killed or even seriously wounded.”

“Ok, Smith. Tell me about the Roscoes you got in the box.”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Capone.”

“Jack, make with the Iron.”

“Ok, Boss.” Jack McGurn takes each weapon out of the case and holds it up so Mr. Smith can identify it. “Mr. Capone, these first two weapons are called ‘Machine Pistols’. They are selective-fire weapons with a very high rate-of-fire. The first one is chambered in .45-acp and the second one is chambered in 9-mm.” McGurn hands one of the small, box-like weapons to Al Capone, who takes it in hand and examines it closely.”

“Each of these machine pistols takes a 32-round steel magazine; that item behind the grip is a folding stock make of thick, tempered-steel wire. Before you ask, sir, the usefulness of these guns is that they aren’t much larger than a Colt .45-automatic. They are small enough so that two of them could be concealed upon the person, and one of them has the same firepower as a Tommy gun.” This last comment grabs Jack McGurn’s ‘professional’ interest. He begins to look at the machine pistols like a kid who just got handed the keys to the world’s largest candy store.

The next weapon Jack McGurn takes out of the case is what appears a large, un-blued Colt .45 Automatic. Al Capone looks at it and says “Smith, I got .45’s by the hundreds. Why should this one interest me?”

“Sir, this weapon is an improvement of the Colt design. It is made from a metal called ‘stainless steel’; this metal doesn’t rust and is much easier to clean after use. Better yet, the frame and magazine have been re-designed so that the magazine can hold 14 rounds instead of 7. I don’t need to tell you how useful that could be during a business disagreement.”

The last weapon taken from the case is so monumental in cope that just looking at it causes Capone’s gunmen to whistle in admiration. Capone also looks at the gun and asks “What kind of cannon is this, Smith?”

“Mr. Capone, this revolver is a variant of the standard Smith-Wesson design. The frame and barrel have been strengthened considerably in order to handle a cartridge called the .357-Magnum. What Mr. McGurn is holding in his right hand is the most powerful handgun in existence anywhere in the world. It can stop a Plymouth in its tracks at a distance of 90 yards; if someone gets shot with it, their distant descendants are going to feel it..”

The Big Man sees that other pieces of equipment are in the box. Before he can ask what they are, Mr. Smith asks “Sir, before I go on, there is a small demonstration I would like to conduct.” Capone replies “You’re on, Smith.”

Mr. Smith nods his thanks and gets up from his chair. He walks over to the fireplace in Capone’s office and makes like he is warming his hands. In actuality, he is surreptitiously assembling a small firearm from components concealed on his person. The barrel, chamber and firing pin are in the form of the gold fountain pen taken from Mr. Smith’s left vest pocket. The pen is clipped to the top of a small gold box that appears to be a cigarette lighter. In fact, the ‘lighter’ comprises the weapon’s grip and magazine housing.

Al Capone has never been the most patient individual. He grows a little annoyed at what he thinks is an un-necessary delay, and so he barks out “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Smith.”

“Yes, Sir. I apologize for the delay.” Mr. Smith turns to face the Big Man’s desk. The gold-colored device is in his right hand and he points it at the fireplace. He pulls the trigger and fires five quick rounds into one of the fireplace logs.


“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT??” Capone’s gunmen assume their boss is under attack and move to interpose themselves and any perceived danger.

“Sir, I apologize for startling you; I have always had a flair for the dramatic.” Mr. Smith hands the empty weapon to Jack McGurn, who in turn, hands it to Al Capone. The Big Man examines it as Mr. Smith says “Sir, that little number is my pride and joy. I call it the Golden Gun. The magazine holds five rounds of .22 rimfire ammunition, and the gun has an effective range of twenty-five yards. To aid in concealment, it can be broken down into several components. For example, the barrel and chamber are n a gold fountain pen, while the magazine, lower receiver and grip assembly are a gold cigarette lighter. The trigger is a gold cufflink clipped to the pen in front of the lighter.”

Capone admires the weapon, then bursts out laughing. He says “Goddamnit, Smith. You got a truckload of moxie, pulling a stunt like that here in my office. I like your style; you and me are going to do business.”

“Thank you, sir. For now, there’s one other thing I would like to mention. That water you poured from that glass decanter..you felt a kind of tingling sensation when you drank it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. How did you know, Smith?”

“I put a certain kind of medication in the water when I dropped off that letter late last night. I did it because, up to now, you were afflicted with a certain kind of social condition. You got it in 1918, when Johnny Torrio made you a bouncer at one of his houses of ill repute here in Chicago. You played ‘Slap-and-Tickle’ with one of Torrio’s Joy Girls. Let’s just say, she gave you the gift that keeps on giving. That medicine you drank along with the water completely cured you of the condition, as well as fully-healing all of the damage it did to you. There are other side effects, like being immune to diseases and physical debilitations like heart attacks and hypertension.”

“Smith, all this jawboning has made me hungry. I’m having a late breakfast sent up from my kitchen. You and me are going to eat with my Guys; I want to hear more about your ideas.”

“At your convenience, sir.”

9:00 AM

Over plates piled high with breakfast steak, three-egg omelets, hash browns, bacon and toast (plus pots of strong coffee), Al Capone and his associates are discussing further items of interest with Mr. Smith. The Big Man pauses in mid-bite and says “Smith, you said earlier that you could increase the effectiveness of my boys ten-fold. How’s that?”

“Mr. Capone, part of it revolves around the weapons and armor that I will be providing to you and your business associates. If the weapons used are more effective, it stands to reason that the men using them will be more effective. As for the armor, imagine that one of your men and one of Bugs Moran’s guys are having a disagreement. Heaters are pulled and shots are exchanged; both men are hit. Moran’s guy falls down and dies; your guy walks away with a little bitty bruise on his chest. I don’t think I need to tell you who came out on top in that little disagreement.”

“I see.” Just then, Al Capone’s cousin (and chief enforcer) Frank Nitti comes in. Al calls out “Hey, Frank. Pull up a chair and sit down, will you? The mountain over here is Mr. Smith, my new business associate.” Mr. Smith nods a respectful greeting as Frank Nitti sits down on Al Capone’s right side. Nitti piles his plate high as Al Capone continues to talk to Mr. Smith.

“Smith, you said you got other pieces of equipment in that case of yours. Tell me more.”

“Yes, Sir. Two years ago, when Hymie Weiss was ‘assisted’ in shuffling off his mortal coil, one of the weapons that the two torpedoes used was a sawed-off double-barrel 12-gauge. Such a weapon is grievously effective, but it only has two shots. One of the other weapons in the case is a short-barreled semi-automatic shotgun. The weapon’s barrel is just 10” long, and the gun has a folding stock and a ten-round detachable magazine. The stocks are made of a material that won’t chip, crack, split or warp even under the heaviest usage.”

“Jack, pass that gun around the table. I want all of you guys to take a good, long look at it.”

“Ok, boss.” Jack McGurn does as he is instructed, and soon whistles of admiration are heard as each man in turn closely examines the weapon.

Mr. Smith now says “Sir, in this day and age, ‘business disagreements’ are sometimes settled by throwing a hand grenade or a bundle of dynamite through the opposing party’s window. This is dangerous to the gentleman doing the throwing. Sometimes he might miss (and have the grenade bounce back and land in his lap), and at other times, he might be hit by fragmentation from the blast. The solution to these problems is what I call a ‘grenade launcher’. This weapon looks like a sawed-off single-barrel shotgun, except that the bore is just over one and one-half inches in diameter. The grenades it fires look like fat shotgun shells. The weapon’s range is 450 yards, meaning that the shooter can put a grenade through someone’s window from three city blocks away.” A wide grin crosses Al Capone’s face when he hears this. Mr. Smith asks “Mr. McGurn, if you please, would you be so kind as to pass the grenade launcher around?” This is done, and more whistles of appreciation soon follow.

“Mr. Capone, the grenade launcher and certain other weapons I have for you are too dangerous to be demonstrated here. May I respectfully suggest that you arrange for the use of one of your more rural properties outside of Chicago proper, perhaps west of Cicero? If you agree, I will have two of my own associates join us there in order to conduct the demonstration.”

“Alright, Smith. Frank? I want you and Joe Batters to handle this.”

Frank Nitti says “Ok, Boss.”

“Mr. Capone, earlier this morning, I urged you to position the Outfit to expand its operations into Las Vegas in order to prepare for when gambling becomes legal in Nevada. There is another theater of operations that you should consider.”

“Where’s that, Smith?”

“Cuba, Sir. The government there, from the office of President Gerado Machado all the way down to the police patrolmen on the streetcorners, is shall we say, ‘open’ to monetary inducements. It would be well-worth your while to enter into an agreement with President Machado to open casinos and hotels down there. Get him to give you exclusive rights to operate in his country. In addition to your own operations, you could allow other organizations to set up shop on their own; for hefty fees and a percentage of the take, of course. The advantage of operating in Cuba is that neither the Feds or the States have any jurisdiction there. So, your assets would be effectively ‘Untouchable’ there.”

The Big Man’s principal financial and legal adviser Jake “Greasy Thumb’ Gusik is in attendance, and he instantly realizes the financial implications of what Mr. Smith just said. Mr. Smith notices the changed expression on Jake’s face and says “Mr. Guzik, the amount of revenue that the Outfit can realize from operations in Cuba isn’t in the millions or tens of millions of dollars. It is in the hundreds of millions.”

Al Capone says “Smith, those are the kinds of figures I like to hear. What else do you have for me?”

“Mr. Capone, Mr. Guzik, another area that will realize enormous rates of return is in the movie industry. Ever since ‘In Old California’ was made by D.W Griffith in Hollywood in 1910, the motion picture business has been growing by leaps and bounds. This is nothing compared to what is coming. The first all-talking movie ‘The Jazz Singer’ was released by Warner Brothers in October, 1927. This one film broke box-office records upon its release; as of now, the box-office gross stands at $3,900.000. Operating in Hollywood would necessitate the setting-up of a front company to recruit talent and make films. Day-to-day operations would be conducted by such individuals that you can trust, with yourself in overall control.”

Visions of dollar signs are now dancing through the minds of Al Capone and his principal advisers as Mr. Smith continues to speak.

“Mr. Capone, I would like to address the issue of your competition. I am specifically to George Moran’s North Side Gang and the Purple Gang in Detroit. You have had a beef with the North Siders ever since Hymie Weiss, George Moran and Vincent Drucci tried to take you out of the picture on January 12th, 1925. Then, on January 24th, those same guys tried to do your friend and patron Mr. Johnny Torrio. Their most recent attempt on you was that little parade they put on for you outside the Hawthorne Hotel in Cicero on September 20th, 1926. Ever since then, the Outfit and the North Side Gang have been exchanging gunfire and bombings. Between these periods of disagreement, there have been times when there has been peace. As regards the Purples, you have had an agreement with them whereby they use their contacts to smuggle Canadian liquor from Ontario across the Detroit River. This liquor is then brought to Chicago and distributed by your organization. The dividing line between Purple Gang territory and the Chicago Outfit’s territory has, up to now, been U.S Route 31, which runs from Grand Rapids, Michigan to the Indiana State Line; west of there is your territory, Mr. Capone. East of U.S 31 belongs to the Purples. Thus far, the arrangement between the Purples and the Outfit has been very profitable. Of late, however, they have been trying to make inroads into your area of operations. Why should you continue to pay them for their services when they are trying to steal business from you? You should also know that the Purples have been doing business with the North Side Gang on the side. I have it on the very best authority that Bugs Moran and his principal lieutenants are going to be travelling to Detroit for a sit-down with the Purples. The Purples intend to break with you and ally themselves with the North Siders.”

The inconveniences that the Purple Gang have been causing (plus the coming betrayal) cause Al Capone’s features to crease with anger. Before the Big Man can blow his stack, Mr. Smith says “Sir, I know the location of this meeting. I have it under surveillance as we speak as I don’t know the precise time of the meeting. If you wish it, I will arrange for something terminally inconvenient to happen to the entire bunch, both the North Siders and the Purples. This ‘something’ will, for all intents and purposes, appear to be nothing more than a tragic accident. The opportunities presented by this ‘accident’ are rather obvious, I think.”

Al Capone and his associates exchange deep-seated rumbles of malignant laughter. When the humor has died down, Capone turns to Mr. Smith and says “I like the way you think. Make it happen.”

“Yes, Sir. When the principals are in the meeting, I will so inform you.”

9:30 AM

Mr. Smith continues to outline plans for improving the Chicago Outfit, as Al Capone, Frank Nitti and the Big Man’s other associates listen intently.

“Mr. Capone, your organization has had a remarkable run of success thus far. There have been several half-hearted attempts by State and Federal law-enforcement authorities to interfere, but none of them has had any luck. As your success continues, you will attract more attention from them. To forestall this, or at least, to lessen the effects of interference from law enforcement, I recommend that you keep whatever records you have of your operation under better security. Designate one or two individuals who you can trust absolutely. Their sole function will be to protect the records and destroy them if necessary. To aid in this, all such records should be transcribed into ledgers made with nitrocellulose paper. All that one has to do to destroy them is to light them up with a match; two seconds later, there will be nothing left but unrecoverable ash.”

“Alright, Smith. What you say makes sense. What happens if the records have to be destroyed? My bean-counters are going to need the information to keep the Outfit up and running.”

“Sir, in that eventuality, just have a back-up set of records made. Ensure the security of the backup records by limiting knowledge of their location to yourself, Mr. Nitti and Mr. Accardo. I further recommend that both copies of your business records be in code. If you wish, I will provide ciphers that no one, not even William Friedman, Gilbert S. Vernam or the guys at the Bureau of Investigation can crack.”

“That’s a good idea, Smith.”

“Thank you, Sir. Earlier, I said that I would increase the effectiveness of your guys by a factor of ten. Providing them with new weapons is only part of the equation. Skill in the use of weapons is another. Your men are good, but they can and will be much better. When we have that meeting out in Cicero, I will be introducing one of my other associates, a Mr. Francisco ‘Pistols’ Scaramanga. Mr. Scaramanga is my handgun instructor; the best pistol shot you ever heard of is a rank amateur compared to him. As an aside, it was he that designed and built the ‘Golden Gun’ that I demonstrated for you earlier.”

“I don’t know about that, Smith. Most of my boys are pretty good.”

“I understand your skepticism, sir. The proof will be in the showing. Continuing on with what I mentioned earlier about information security, the Outfit does much of its business by telephone. The Coppers recognize this, so the use of wiretapping is one of their primary investigative techniques. In keeping with State and Federal Law, wiretaps have to be authorized by a judge. To keep the Feds (or anyone else) from eavesdropping on your communications, I will provide your organization with devices called ‘Scramblers’. These scramblers are concealed inside the base of a standard Crosley telephone. If there are scrambler-equipped phones on both ends of the line and anyone tries to listen in, all they’re going to hear is static.”

Al Capone and his men exchange wide grins are the full import of what they just heard dawns upon them. He says “Frank, Tony, I want you guys to work with Mr. Smith here. Make sure that everyone in the Oufit gets one of these new phones. Tell them that all business done by telephone is to be done on these new phones. Anyone who screws up and put out business-related information on an unsecure phone will get personally-acquainted with the undertaker. Get me??”

Frank Nitti and Tony Accardo exchange glances of understanding, then Nitti says “Ok, Boss.”

The Big Man looks back to Mr. Smith and says “Alright, Smith. Let’s talk some numbers. You don’t strike me as some kind of Boy Scout, and all of the new hardware you told me about looks to be more than a little spendy.”

“Thank you for bringing that subject up, sir. The prices for my equipment reflect the costs for manufacturing and secure transportation. The machine pistols are $100.00 each; this cost includes the weapon, cleaning equipment, one 32-round magazine and a carrying case. Extra magazines are $3.00 each. Each .357-Magnum revolver will cost $75.00, including a case, cleaning equipment and six speed-loaders. The modified stainless-steel Colt .45s are $50.00 each, including the case, cleaning equipment and one magazine. Extra magazines are $2.00 each.”

Al Capone’s face assumes a look of curiosity as he asks “What’s a speed loader, Smith?”

“Mr. Capone, a speed loader is a device that allows a shooter to instantly reload all six chambers in a revolver’s cylinder.”

“Ok, Smith. So far, so good. What about the other weapons and equipment?”

“Sir, I was just about to cover them. The 12-gauge semi-automatic shotguns are $150.00 each. As with the handguns, the cost includes a case, cleaning equipment and one ten-round magazine; extra magazines are $5.00 each. Each grenade launcher costs $100.00; the same cost as one of the machine pistols. The launcher is a single-shot weapon, so no extra magazine is provided. The grenades are $5.00 each. On the equipment, the body armor has to be tailored for each individual that will be using it. This makes it rather expensive, at $150.00 per set. The cost factor is outweighed, however, by the protection it gives to the user. The phone scramblers are $50.00 each. These items are absolutely secure; if any flatfoot starts to mess with one, the unit will automatically melt itself.”

Mr. Smith pauses a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing “Mr. Capone, I have left the ‘medicine’ I gave to you earlier until last, as it directly ties in with the rates of remuneration I am requesting. I will provide each and every one of the girls that works in your houses of ill repute a dose of it. This medicine will instantly cure any and all social diseases that the girl in question may have. Furthermore, she will be absolutely protected from re-infection. I ask you to imagine how much more business the houses will do when word gets out that no one who goes there will have any risk of getting the ‘gift that keeps on giving’, so to speak. For this, I respectfully request that I be compensated with 5% of the gross receipts. As regards compensation for my continuing services, I ask for the same rate (5% of the gross) from any aspects of the Outfit’s operations that are directly affected by my services.”

Mr. Smith’s request causes much excited discussion to run around Al Capone’s breakfast table as the more mathematically-inclined of Capone’s associates begin to figure out just how much money he wants. Finally, the Big Man turns to his chief financial adviser Jake Guzik and asks “Jake, what do you think?”

“Boss, based on the projected numbers for this coming year, what Mr. Smith is requesting will amount to some $3,000,000. I know that sounds like a lot, but it will be worth it. His hardware, equipment and medicine aren’t available anywhere else; using Smith’s services will make the Oufit more profitable than you ever dreamed before.”

“Alright, Jake. Frank, Tony, what do you think?”

Frank Nitti sits up in his chair and says “Boss, I’m not as up on the numbers as Jake is. However, I think that saying yes to Mr. Smith will be a smart play.” Tony ‘Joe Batters’ Accardo nods his agreement.”

Al Capone carefully considers all that he has heard and sits quietly for a few moments. He comes to a decision and says “Alright, Smith. I’m sold; 5% it will be.”

“I thank you for your generosity, Sir. In regards for the weapons and equipment, what quantities will you be needing?”

“Smith, I will want all of my button-men to have one of your machine pistols and one of those double-stack Colt .45s. Anyone of my guys who wants one of your semi-automatic shotguns or one of those .357-Magnum revolvers will have one.”

“Excellent choices, sir. In terms of the actual numbers, that will be 1,000 machine pistols with 12 extra magazines each, 1,000 double-stack .45 automatics with 6 extra magazines each, 500 12-gauge semi-automatic shotguns with four extra magazines each and 500 .357-Magnum revolvers. I will further provide 200 grenade launchers, 1,000 phone scramblers and 1,000 sets of body armor. All told, this will come to $500,000. I can also offer vehicle armoring and upgrade services at $3,000.00 per car.”

“Alright, Smith. When can you have all this stuff ready for delivery?”

“Mr. Capone, I anticipated your acceptance of my offer and made arrangements for the weapons and equipment to be delivered in one week to whatever location you so designate.”

The Big Man grins widely, then look over at Jake Gusik and Jack McGurn. “Jake, I want you to personally handle the money for Smith’s equipment. Make sure he gets paid by the end of the week.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Capone.”

“Jack, I want you to oversee the distribution of Smith’s hardware. Keep the Thompsons and the Browning Automatic Rifles we got in the inventory for backup if needed.”

“Ok, Boss.”

“Mr. Smith, those heavy weapons you are going to demonstrate for men I want it to happen in four days. There’s a place I own outside Cicero; Frank Nitti will give you the address.”

“Very well, Sir. I will make it happen. In other matters, I mentioned an accident that will be arranged for when the Bugs Moran and the North Side Gang meet with the Purple Gang in Detroit.”

“I’m listening, Smith.”

“Mr. Capone, as an indication of my good intentions, I’ll be doing that job for you free of charge.”

10:00 AM

“Mr. Capone, the last thing I would like to address before we adjourn for the day is the issue of quality control. The more disreputable drinking establishments in Chicago aren’t called ‘Blind Pigs’ for no reason whatsoever. It all comes down to bad product and by extension, bad publicity. Imagine if you will, some hard-working guy that comes back after a long day at the garage or his shop. He wants to relax and let off some steam, so the first thing he does is go to his local drinking establishment and order up a couple beers or a couple of shots of whiskey. Because no thought was given to the purity or quality of the product, our working stiff here stands a good chance of getting sick from bad beer, or worse, going blind or even dying from drinking bad liquor. Nothing would give the Outfit more bad publicity that to have the public hear from the widows and orphans of guys who died from drinking bad hooch.”

Al Capone thoughtfully scratches his chin as he and his associates listen to what Mr. Smith is saying. Then, he says “Smith, what you’re saying makes sense. What are your suggestions?”

“Sir, every step of the process at each of your production facilities has to be carefully monitored; from when the raw ingredients come in the door to when the finished product is distributed. For example, the sugar and brewers’ yeast has to be clean, dry and of the very best quality. Likewise, the water used has to be clan and free of impurities. Every step of the brewing or fermenting process has to be carefully controlled, with samples of every batch taken for testing. There is to be nothing but pure copper used for the condenser coils and brew pots; no scrap or recycled material. Under no circumstances is any kind of galvanized steel to be used for any reason whatsoever.”

“Smith, we already use copper in the stills and coils. Why can’t I substitute galvanized steel? It’s a whole lot cheaper.”

“Mr. Capone, that is indeed true. Galvanized steel is much cheaper than copper. However, using galvanized steel in the distillation process will poison the liquor. This is why it must not be used.”

“What about that testing you were talking about? I just can’t have my boys walk into some local university and tell them that some of their professors are now working for me.”

Mr. Smith chuckles softly at the humorous implications of what the Big Man has just said. Then, he replies “Sir, leave that to me. As part of my business agreement with you, I will provide the staff and the necessary testing equipment. At each of your breweries and distilleries, my people will need a room about the size of a small office; this is where the testing equipment will be located. Each testing lab will be staffed by three of my people. I should like to emphasize that these tests will, in no way, interfere with the output of the facility. In fact, the quality of the product will be superior in every way. When word gets out that you’re making a product that is better than anything from your competition, people are naturally going to start coming to your drinking establishments in larger numbers than before.”

“Alright Smith, that’s enough jawboning for now. I have a sit-down to go to with Hizzonner, Mayor Thompson. Jack McGurn will set you up in some rooms down the hall. Jack, see to Mr. Smith’s needs.”

“Right, Boss.”

Mr. Smith nods his head and says “Thank you for your courtesy, Mr. Capone. Mr. McGurn, if you would be so kind as to have the hotel staff bring up my bags from my car, I’d be much obliged.”

“Follow me, Mr. Smith. The rooms are this way.”

“At your convenience, Mr. McGurn.”

Mr. Smith follows Jack McGurn down the hallway outside Al Capone’s office. McGurn leads Smith to Room 501 and hands him the key. Jack McGurn says “The staff will be up here with your bags right away.”

“Thank you, Mr. McGurn.” Mr. Smith unlocks the door and enters the room. To his pleasure, he sees that Room 501 isn’t just a single room, but rather a suite of three rooms. There is a bedroom, a sitting room and a full bathroom; all three are sumptuously decorated in the style of the day. Mr. Smith spends the next few minutes surveying his surroundings; then, there is a knock on the door.

Smith cautiously answers. There are two uniformed bellboys standing there. Each of them is carrying a pair of suitcases. The lead bellboy says “Mr. Smith, Mr. McGurn asked us to carry up your baggage. Where would you like it?”

“Just drop it on the sofa, boys.” As a gratuity, Mr. Smith retrieves his bankroll from an interior coat pocket and peels off a pair of crisp, new $50 bills “Here you go, boys. Take these with my compliments.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Smith.”

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Smith is occupied in putting away his belongings when there is another knock on the door. He calls across the room and says “Yes?”

“Open up, Mr. Smith. It’s Jack McGurn and I have something for you, with complements from the Boss.”

“Alright, Mr. McGurn. Give me half a moment to unlock the door.” Mr. Smith does so, and opens the door to see Jack McGurn standing there in the company of two young blonde women. Smith’s questioning look causes Jack McGurn to say “Mr. Smith, the Boss thought you might like some company. This first girl is Alice and the second one is Flora.”

Mr. Smith nods his appreciation and says “Thank you, Mr. McGurn. Please tell Mr. Capone I thank him for his most generous offer.” To the girls he says “Ladies, do please come in.” Mr. Smith holds the door open as Alice and Flora walk past him. As Jack McGurn turns to leave, he grins widely; Mr. Smith returns this with an even wider grin of his own, then closes the door. The two women are wearing cloche hats, knee-length sequined dresses and low-heel shoes, and their hair is done up in the ‘bobbed’ style.

“Alright, girls. How about a drink?” Mr. Smith pours three glasses of champagne from the bottle on the table. He takes out a small silver flask from his pocket and further adds a small measure of blue liquid to each girl’s glass before he hands it over. Smith raises his own glass and downs it in several swallows. Alice and Flora do likewise; they giggle softly as they drink, and Alice says “It tickles.”

“Have at thee, ladies. It’s party time!!”

More Toys
Date: February 17th, 1928
Location: a secluded farm property outside of Cicero, Illinois
Time: 9:00 AM

By request from Mr. Smith, Al Capone and his principal henchmen are going to a farm that the Big Man owns outside of Cicero. Their purpose is to observe a demonstration of more powerful weapons and other equipment arranged by Mr. Smith. There are six vehicles in the group, and the lead car is occupied by Al Capone, Frank Nitti, Tony Accardo, Mr. Smith, a pair of bodyguards and the driver. The other five cars are carrying others of Al Capone’s associates.

After about 45 minutes of driving, the convoy arrives at its destination. Al Capone sees that there are already two other people and several vehicles present. The Big Man looks out the window, then turns to Mr. Smith and says “Smith, I see your guys are already here.” Mr. Smith replies in his usual precisely-measured tone “Of course, sir. Mr. Nitti was kind enough to give me the address. All that I had to do is to have my people and the equipment waiting here for our arrival. If you are agreeable, sir, I can begin the demonstration. My two associates here are Mr. Scaramanga and Mr. Bond. I already told you of Mr. Scaramanga and his capabilities. Mr. Bond is my security expert; there is no safe or vault he can’t crack, and no alarm system (however sophisticated) that he can’t bypass. He’s also an excellent pistol shot and a formidable hand-to-hand combatant. In the future, Mr. Bond will be giving your men lessons in knife-fighting.”

Mr. Bond and Mr. Scaramanga nod their greetings to the group and stand by for instructions from Mr. Smith.

“And now to business, gentlemen. Please direct your attention to that table over there.” Al Capone and his men look and see a plain table, of the type than might be found in any apartment or house. In the center of the table there is a one-gallon glass jug filled with colored water. Mr. Smith says “Mr. Capone, imagine that glass just is the head of someone you are having a business dispute with. Please note what happens now.” Mr. Smith raises his left hand and taps a small, flesh-colored earpiece and says “Smith to Rifleman, deliver the package.” Al Capone and his men exchange looks of curiosity as they wonder who Mr. Smith is talking to.” Their looks become ones of amazement when, seemingly out of nowhere, a disembodied voice replies “Rifleman to Smith, package is inbound.” Immediately thereafter, the jug explodes, sending shards of glass and spatters of water flying in all directions. Just two seconds after the jug explodes, the sound of a distant gunshot is heard. The noise of the report rolls over the countryside like thunder from a distant storm.

The Big Man and his associates are completely taken by surprise. Their silence lasts no more than a moment for two before loud and excited discussions break out. Al Capone’s face assumes a look of thoughtful contemplation as Mr. Smith says “Sir, the rifle shot you just saw was delivered from a distance of 2,500 yards. My man can put fire down on any target you choose, and he doesn’t miss. Mr. Scaramanga, you may proceed with your own demonstration.”

Without a word, Mr. Scaramanga draws his .357-Magnum revolver and carefully takes aim at a target some 200 yards distant. The target is a silhouette made from steel plate. Over the next fifteen seconds, Scaramanga empties all eight shots into the target without a single miss. The impact of each shot causes the steel silhouette to ring like a gong struck with a hammer. The next demonstration comes when he reloads the .357 and takes aim at a row of four round steel targets placed at a distance of 25 yards. Mr. Scaramanga places two shots into each target in such a short time that to the assembled witnesses, it sounds like he is firing a machinegun.

Al Capone and his men are awestruck. Never before have they beheld such a demonstration of consummate skill. The amazement continues when Mr. Smith hands six silver quarters to Capone and asks “Sir, will you please toss these into the air at my signal.”

“Alright, Smith.”

“Mr. Scaramanga, you may begin. Mr. Capone, throw the quarters now, please.”

The Big Man throws the quarters up into the air as high as possible, whereupon Mr. Scaramanga picks each of them out of the air in mid-flight with a small, long-barreled revolver. The weapon being used is a .32-caliber Colt ‘Police Positive’ revolver with a 6” barrel. When the last of the coins has dropped to the ground, Mr. Smith collects them and brings them back for examination. He hands the coins to Al Capone, who looks at them and sees that Scaramanga’s bullets have drilled a neat hole right through the center of each coin.

“Ok Smith, I am impressed. Now, bring on the big stuff.”

“Yes, Sir. Mr. Bond, the weapons case, if you please.” Mr. Bond goes to a small delivery truck parked nearby and brings back a black weapons case. He hands it to Mr. Smith. The weapon brought out is a single-shot grenade launcher “Mr. Capone, you will recall four days ago when I described this weapon to you. Now, I will show you how it works. Do you see that 1927 Studebaker Erskine parked 150 yards away?” The Big Man nods. Mr. Smith continues “Sir, let’s assume that there is someone in that car than you have a particular disregard for. Watch what happens.”

Mr. Smith breaks the grenade launcher open and slots a round intro the breech. He closes the weapon, raises it to his shoulder and takes careful aim. The weapon is fired, making a loud ‘BLOOP’. The grenade flies towards its target and strikes on the hood just in front of the windshield. It explodes and demolishes the car completely. The windows are all blown out, the doors are bulged off their hinges and the roof panel is peeled back like the cover of a phone book. Clouds of thick black smoke begin to pour forth from the wreck as the gasoline and oil begin to burn.

Mr. Smith says “Rather impressive, wouldn’t you say, sir?” Al Capone and his men continue to look on in amazement as Mr. Smith says “Gentlemen, please look to the left of that wrecked Studebaker. Let’s say that one of your competitors is paranoid enough to have taken up being driven around in an armored car. The one you see there is an actual armored car of the type used by banks to transport large currency shipments. Mr. Bond, the presence of that vehicle offends my sensibilities. Please make it go away.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Smith.” Bond opens up a second case and takes out a long cylindrical object. The object appears to be a hollow tube with a flared cone on the back end and a pair of wooden hand grips in the center. There is what appears to be a small telescope on the left side of the tube’s mid-section. Next, Mr. Bond takes another item from the case. This one measures three feet in length and resembles a club with a head in the shape of two cones joined together at the base. He inserts the handle of the ‘club’ into the mouth of the hollow tube and pushes it all the way to the bottom. Next, he gives the head of the object a clock-wise turn until he hears a loud click.

Mr. Bond raises the weapon to his shoulder and points it towards the armored car. “I’m ready to proceed, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith now tells the Big Man and all of his associates “Gentlemen, please cover your ears. The noise of this weapons firing is VERY loud. Mr. Bond, you may proceed.”

Bond takes careful aim at the armored car and fires. True to Mr. Smith’s words, the noise of the firing echoes across the landscape like a giant thunderclap. The projectile streaks forth almost faster than the eye can see and hits the armored car in the engine block. The explosion blasts a hole through the engine block and sprays the interior of the vehicle with white-hot fragments of molten metal. The remainder of the explosion blows a wide, jagged hole though both sides of the thick armored plate in the cargo compartment.

Al Capone exclaims out loud and says “Smith, just what in blue blazes was that weapon?? I never saw or even heard anything like it before. None of my boys have, neither.”

“Sir, that weapon is a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. It has three times the range and ten times the destructive power of the grenade launcher I demonstrated earlier. Nothing can stand up to it, not even the tanks used by the Illinois National Guard or the U.S Army.”

While his men look on in ‘shock and awe’, Al Capone says “Smith, I’m impressed. Is there any limit to your bag of tricks?”

“No sir, there isn’t.” Just then, the ear piece in Mr. Smith’s left ear makes a soft warbling noise. He taps it with his left finger and says “Smith here. yes, uh-huh, got it.” Capone is bursting with curiosity as he says “What is that gadget, Smith? I heard it talking to you when that glass jug got nailed.”

“Mr. Capone, it is a communications device; essentially, a micro-miniaturized radio. It allows for instantaneous two-way communications with any of my assets throughout the United States, no matter where they or I are located.”

“What did it say?”

“Sir, that sit-down between the North Side Gang and the Purple Gang in Detroit is taking place at this very moment. I said that I would arrange for something terminally-inconvenient to happen to them. My men have eyes on target and are requesting permission to engage.”

The Big Man grins malignantly and says “Hell yes, Smith!!! Get back on that little blower thing and tell them to do it.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Capone.” Mr. Smith taps his earpiece and says “Longshot, this is Smith. Weapons are hot, you may release at your discretion.”

“Smith, this is Longshot. Received and understood, will advise. Out.”

There was an Earth-Shattering Kaboom
Date: February 17th, 1928
Location: Detroit, Michigan
Time: 9:30 AM

High above the City of Detroit, at an altitude of 5,000’, there is a remotely-controlled pilotless aircraft silently circling above the East Riverfront District. The machine has an active camouflage system that makes it practically invisible to the human eye. It is being controlled by a crew of two men concealed in a non-descript moving van parked at the end of one of the many side streets along the Detroit River. The body of the van is soundproofed so that no one can hear what is going on inside. Outside, a third man is busying himself with seeming to make repairs to the moving van’s engine; the right-front tire is flattened as an additional means of disguise.

Inside the van, the two men are monitoring their intended target by using the UAV’s sensors. What they are looking at is a large warehouse over on Jefferson Avenue near the Detroit River. The warehouse has been used by the Purple Gang for several years as a collection point for the illegal liquor that the Purples have been smuggling in from Windsor, Ontario across the Detroit River. In a second-floor office inside the warehouse, there is a most-singular meeting taking place. In attendance are the principal leaders and associates of the notorious ‘Purple Gang’; Abraham Berenstein and his two brothers Ray and Izzy, plus their good friends and associates Abe Axler and Phill Keywell, plus George ‘Bugs’ Moran and the senior members of the North Side Gang from Chicago. These included the Gusenberg brothers Peter and Frank, plus Albert Kachellek and Adam Heyer. At various places in the warehouse, there are more than three dozen gunmen associated with both organizations as security.

In the office, the meeting begins with Abraham Berenstein shaking hands with George Moran and saying “Welcome to Detroit, Mr. Moran. I asked for this sit-down because I am sick to death of dealing with Al Capone and his bunch of ‘Mustache Petes’. I have had profitable business dealings with him in the past, but it’s time for a change. Mr. Moran, you’ve been a pain-in-the-ass to Capone for years. I propose that we ally our respective organizations with each other; I’ll switch from providing liquor to Capone’s group and begin shipping it to you at reduced rates. In exchange, our groups will back each other up whenever and wherever necessary.

Abraham Berenstein resumes his seat as George Moran begins to speak “Thanks for the red-carpet treatment, Mr. Berenstein. Me and the Northsiders are looking forward to doing business with you and your group.” These words and their attending discussions are the last thoughts that anyone in the warehouse will ever have. In the moving van, radio transmissions are exchanged:

“Smith, this is Longshot. The principals are in the building, am requesting permission to engage.”

The response is “Longshot, this is Smith. Weapons are hot, you may release at your discretion.”

The UAV’s primary controller uses the aircraft’s sensors to scan the roof of the warehouse and select a suitable aiming point. In turn, its’ gimbal-mounted targeting laser locks on. The operator says “I have tone”, and signals the UAV to drop its payload. The weapon is an advanced version of the Small-Diameter Bomb used by the United States Air Force back in Mr. Smith’s home timeline. The SDB drops away from the aircraft, deploys its wings and begins its inexorable flight towards the target. The bomb crashes through the roof of the warehouse just fifty feet from the office. Before anyone inside can think to react, the SDB’s two-stage warhead explodes.

The first stage of the warhead is composed of one hundred pounds of DIME (Dense Inert-Metal Explosive). The casing of this section of the warhead is made of carbon fiber; the payload consists of forty pounds of RDX surrounded by sixty pounds of very dense metal in the form of small shot (#9 in size). The metal is an alloy consisting of tungsten, nickel and cobalt. When the RDX detonates, it pulverizes the metal shot into powder and sends the powder flying in all directions at hypersonic speed. The net result of this is that everyone in the office where the Purple Gang is meeting with the North Side Gang is instantly killed; the causes are traumatic amputations of arms, legs and heads, plus horrendous internal injuries (such as multiple bone fractures and pulped organs).

At the exact same time outside the lethal radius of the DIME, the second stage of the SDB’s warhead deploys. This one is composed of nearly 250 lbs of ethylene oxide and propylene oxide, plus small charges that rupture the warhead’s casing and ignite the contents. The resulting cloud has a temperature of 5,400 degrees. The other gunmen in the building are instantly killed by the blast wave, which ruptures their lungs, bursts their eardrums and crushes their internal organs. The blast wave is so powerful that that it lifts the warehouse’s roof off the walls; without support, the walls collapse in on themselves. Elsewhere in the Riverfront district, windows are shattered for hundreds of yards in every direction. The noise from the detonation is so loud that it is heard all over the rest of Detroit, sounding very much like the proverbial end of the world.

Before Detroit’s police and fire departments can respond to the explosion, the UAV’s control crew orders their machine to land near their truck. The machine’s wings are folded, and the vehicle is quickly brought inside the truck. Dozens of sirens are heard off in the distance and the truck and the three men evacuate the area. While they are driving, a message is sent to Mr. Smith:

‘Longshot to Smith, target has been neutralized; documentation to follow. Out’

Reach Out, Reach Out and touch Someone
Date: February 20th, 1928
Location: Al Capone’s office, Lexington Hotel
Time: 9:00 AM

Al Capone and his principal associates are gathered in the Big Man’s office for yet another business meeting. After the usual ‘Outfit’ business is conducted, Mr. Smith rises to speak “Mr. Capone, gentlemen, by now, you have all read accounts in the Chicago Tribune and the Daily Herald of what happened in Detroit. I have here a copy of the Detroit News from February 18th. The headline reads ‘DISASTER!!!’; I will read a little of the article to give you gentlemen a sense of what the Detroit City Government thinks what happened.”‘The Detroit News’ Dateline: February 18th, 1928‘There occurred a terrible disaster in the East Riverfront district yesterday at approximately 9:30 AM local time. A gas main operated by Detroit City Gas ruptured and ignited. The following explosion demolished a warehouse and many individuals in that warehouse were killed. The Detroit Police Department and State Coroner’s office are attempting to identify the deceased. Officials from Detroit City Gas are denying responsibility, but local citizens reported a strong smell of gas in the area for several days before the disaster. The State Fire Marshall’s Office has promised a full investigation in the matter.’

“Mr. Capone, it is plain from reading this newspaper article and others that City officials in Detroit believe that a catastrophic gas leak was responsible. For the documentation I promised to deliver, my staff has prepared a film presentation to show what happened.” Mr. Smith takes out a small boxlike object and centers it on the Big Man’s office table. The device is activated and projects a full-color video image on the wall of Capone’s office. “Sir, this device is what you would call a movie projector. The footage you are seeing was captured by the remote-controlled aircraft which delivered the strike. In the lower right corner of the screen, there is a time stamp to show exactly when things happened. At 9:00 AM, a number of automobiles are shown approaching the warehouse and parking outside. Several dozen individuals exit their cars and enter the warehouse.” Mr. Smith causes the image to zoom in so that several individuals can be identified. The first is George Moran, leader of the North Side gang. Other North Siders present are Pete Gusenberg, his brother Frank, Albert Kachellek and Adam Heyer. The Purple Gang’s leadership and senior members are there, including Irving Milberg, Harry Keywell, Raymond Berenstein, Abe Axler, Irving Milberg and Eddie Fletcher. The remote-controlled aircraft continues to circle high above the East Riverfront district with its sensors focused on the warehouse. Then, Mr. Smith says “Sir, please take note of the following sequence”. The film suddenly shifts to a black & white view that shows many individuals inside the warehouse proper, and a large group gathered in a second-floor office. The individuals show as glowing white figures against a dark background.

“Mr. Capone, you will now see the elimination of the North Side gang and the Purples in real time.” The view from the aircraft goes from a close-up view to a wide-angle shot. Suddenly, there is a glowing white object which streaks downward from the left side of the screen and hits the roof of the warehouse dead-center. The flare of light from the explosion is so bright that is causes the footage to white out. “Sir, my remote-controlled aircraft deployed a precision-guided munition. The weapon reduced the population of that warehouse to zero in less than one second. The Purple Gang and the North Side Gang are now permanently out of the picture. I suggest that you move your associates into the North Side to take advantage of the power vacuum. As regards Detroit, I believe that you already have people in the city who were part of your agreement with the late, lamented Purples to bring liquor across from Canada. With a word from you, Mr. Capone, they will move in and take over the Purples’ former territory.”

For a moment, there is nothing but silence in Al Capone’s office. Then, the Big Man’s face is creased by an enormous, feral grin as he realizes that his competition in Chicago has been eliminated, and that the backstabbing from the Purple Gang has been dealt with. Mr. Smith sets the projector to replay the film footage; the explosion is displayed once again in graphic detail. Al Capone’s associates exclaim loudly as they see the roof and walls of the warehouse violently part company. When the video finishes, Mr. Smith turns off the projector and says “Mr. Capone, I am also pleased to report that the weapons and equipment you ordered have been delivered to the address given to me by Mr. Nitti. The materiel is awaiting dispersal to your men.”

“Alright Smith, I’m glad to see that you are a man of your word. Jake, pay the man.” Jake Gusik does as he has been instructed and pushes a briefcase across the table to Mr. Smith. He opens the case and sees five hundred thousand dollars in currency bundled within. The money is in the form of $100.00 bills, and is in stacks of $10,000 each. The stacks are secured with plain paper wrappers. Mr. Smith accepts the money and says “Mr. Capone, it is a pleasure doing business with you. When we are done with this meeting, I would like to be driven to the head offices of the First National Bank of Chicago. I’ll be opening an account there.”Mr. Capone looks across the table to Jack McGurn and says “That’s on you, Jack. Make sure Smith gets there safe and sound.”

“Ok, Boss.”

Mr. Smith draws his chair closer to the table and rests both hands upon it. His towering countenance assumes a look of serious intent as he says “Mr. Capone, sir, when I spoke to you and your men on the 17th, I told you that there have been several attempts by State and Federal Law Enforcement to undermine your organization. As the Outfit becomes more and more successful, there will be more such attempts. To guard against them (or to lessen their effects when they do happen), I strongly and respectfully urge that you build influence at the Federal level; the same sort of influence that you have with Mayor Thompson’s office and the Chicago Police Department. Two opportunities that will prove to have the greatest return are J.Edgar Hoover and Joseph P. Kennedy, Senior. Hoover was appointed as Director of the Bureau of Investigation in 1924 by President Coolidge. To put it mildly, Mr. Hoover has certain personal habits that would not serve him at all well if they were to become public knowledge. Among these habits are a weakness for gambling in general and playing the ponies in particular; he has also had ‘carnal knowledge’ of other men."

This revelation fills the faces of Al Capone and his associates with complete and utter disgust while Mr. Smith continues to speak “Despite Hoover’s personal failings (which are unknown by his superiors in the U.S Department of Justice), he is well-positioned to rise high in government service. I propose that his threat to the Outfit be neutralized by paying him a visit. I have photographic and documentary proof of his indiscretions, and I will furnish copies to whoever makes the visit.”Al Capone thinks for a moment, then says “Smith, let’s say Hoover is made an offer he can’t refuse, then he tries to have some of his muscle men put the squeeze on whoever makes the offer. What then?”

“Sir, please let me assure you that Hoover will be able to do precisely nothing; my staff and I will be watching him very closely. Should he be so unwise as to try something, whoever he sends to do the job will have a long, uncomfortable stay in the hospital...” Mr. Smith loudly cracks his knuckles to emphasize his statement. The simple, matter-of-fact way in which Mr. Smith is discussing the suborning of a Federal law-enforcement official causes chuckles of malignant glee to rumble through the room. When the Big Man stops heaving with laughter, he says “Smith, tell me about Joe Kennedy. I know of him; he’s got business dealings here in Chicago, but he’s not connected with the Outfit. His business has been with the East Coast families; primarily the Messina Family in Boston and the Morelli Family in Providence, Rhode Island.” Mr. Smith replies “Sir, I have documented proof of every dirty deal, stock swindle and illegal liquor deal he ever made. To put it mildly, Joseph P. Kennedy, Sr is grasping and monstrously ambitious. Nothing would please him more than to see one or more of his sons elected President of The United States. If he wants this to happen, he’s going to make nice. Otherwise, he can kiss his political prospects (and those of his sons) goodbye.”

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Fri Nov 20, 2015 12:41 pm 
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Great start, you could also add Joseph Kennedy was morally flexible.

Faugh a Ballagh

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Fri Nov 20, 2015 2:04 pm 

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jemhouston wrote:
Great start, you could also add Joseph Kennedy was morally flexible.

Before I got banned from Alternatehistory.com, 'Crime Time' ran more than 950 pages. What I posted here was just the first chapter.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 22, 2015 2:23 am 

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Banking & Real Estate
Date: February 20th, 1928
Location: The First National Bank of Chicago
Time: 10:00 AM

After the conclusion of the meeting in Al Capone's office, Jack McGurn drives Mr. Smith over to the head offices of the First National Bank of Chicago, located at 21 South Clark Street. When they arrive, Mr. Smith turns to Jack McGurn and says "Mr. McGurn, my business here shouldn't take more than a half-hour or so. If you would be so kind, please pick me up here when I am finished."

"Alright, Mr. Smith."

Mr. Smith alights from the car and walks up the front steps while carrying the briefcase with his money inside. The headquarters building of the First National Bank of Chicago is a rather-impressive edifice done in the neo-classical style. He enters the great bronze doors, removes his trenchcoat and walks up to one of the tellers. The young lady is named Julia Jones, and Mr. Smith says ‘Good morning, madam. I should like to speak to the bank manager in regards to an important business matter."

"Good morning, sir. Whom shall I say is calling? May I enquire as to the nature of your business?"

"Madam, my name is Mr. James Smith and I am here to open a large account in furtherance of my own business affairs."

"One moment, sir." Ms. Jones picks up the phone on her desk and calls the manager's office. She says "Mr. Aiken? There is a gentleman out here by the name of James Smith who wishes to speak to you about the opening of a large business account. Very good sir, he'll be in directly. Thank you, sir." Ms. Jones puts down the phone and says Mr. Smith, Mr. Aiken will see you now."

`"Thank you, Ms. Jones." Mr. Smith picks up his briefcase and trenchcoat, and makes his way across the bank's ornate lobby to the office of the bank manager. Mr. Aiken is waiting for him, and the two individuals shake hands. Mr. Aiken is somewhat put off by Mr. Smith's titanic stature, but gives no sign of this. He says "Good morning, Mr. Smith. I am Edmund Aiken, Jr; President of the First National Bank of Chicago. How can I help you today?"

"Good Morning, Mr. Aiken. I am here to set up a commercial account in furtherance of my business interests."

"I see, sir. May I enquire as to the nature of your business?"

"Certainly, Mr. Aiken. I have been overseas for some years now, and I have only recently returned to the United States. My commercial ventures and overseas trading operations proved to be quite successful, and so I deemed it to be the proper time to repatriate my profits and set up in business back here in America."

"I understand, sir. What type of account will you require?"

"Mr. Aiken, a standard business checking account will suffice. I am not so much concerned with the interest rate as I am with the security of my funds. The initial deposit will be five hundred thousand dollars in cash, with more deposits at regular intervals." Mr. Smith places his briefcase on Mr. Aiken's desk, undoes the locks and turns the case around so that the contents can be observed. Mr. Aiken is used to handling large transactions as a matter of course but, the sight of such a large amount of cash on his desk causes his eyes to widen. He now regards Mr. Smith with entirely different feelings than when they first met.

"I will be most happy to accommodate you, sir. I will have four of my senior tellers count this money while I draw up the documents for you to sign. In the meantime, is there anything else that you need?"

"Yes there is, sir. You have certain contacts with the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago, and through them, contacts with the United States Treasury and the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. When my funds are deposited in your institution, I want to place an order for full, sealed mint bags of coinage from every mint and in every denomination; from the Lincoln cent to the $20.00 gold piece. I know that the Treasury Department has bags of coins in storage from previous years. Therefore, I want my order to begin with the year 1913 and continue on through to the present day."

"I see, Mr. Smith." Edmund Aiken is used to dealing with all manner of odd requests from his wealthy clients, so what Mr. Smith is asking for doesn't surprise him in the least. He asks "How many bags of each denomination do you require, sir?" Mr. Smith replies "I want four bags each of the cent, nickel, dime, quarter, half dollar and dollar coins, plus two bags each of the $2.50, $5.00, $10.00 and $20.00 gold pieces."

"Mr. Smith, such an amount of coinage will take some time to assemble and deliver. Based on the information I have from previous dealings, the whole process will take thirty days. There is also the question of volume. These bags will be quite bulky, and will take up a good deal of space in our vaults."

"Mr. Aiken, the matter of storage doesn't concern me. I am more than willing to pay reasonable rates for the use of you vault. If the bags become too voluminous, I'll pay for the construction of a new vault."

"Very good, sir. Will that be all for now?"

"Not quite, Mr. Aiken. I have business to conduct with Mr. James Simpson of Marshall Field & Company. I'll be needing a cashier's check made out in the amount of $250,000. Leave the name blank; I'll fill it in later. I'd greatly appreciate it if you were to call ahead for me and let Mr. Simpson know I am coming."

"Of course, Mr. Smith, Let me say that it has been a pleasure doing business with you, and I look forward to our continuing association in the future. Good day, sir."

"Good day, Mr. Aiken."

Mr. Smith leaves the bank and gets into his car. JackMcGurn is in the driver's seat, and he asks ‘Where to now, Smith?"

"Mr. McGurn, please take me to the headquarters of Marshall Field & Company at the intersection of State Street and Jackson Boulevard."

"Alright, Smith." As McGurn and Smith are driving along, Mr. Smith is taking in the scenery of downtown. His thoughts are lost as he considers the changes that have happened in Chicago between 1928 and the time he came from. Before very long, the car is pulling up into the Marshall Field parking lot."

"We're here, Mr. Smith."

"Thank you, Mr. McGurn. I'll be about 45 minutes or so. It's rather cold out here, so why don't you get yourself a cup of coffee and meet me in front of the main entrance."

"Ok, Smith. That sounds like a plan." Mr. Smith gets out of the car and Jack McGurn drives off. He enters the building and speaks to the receptionist "Good morning. My name is Mr. James Smith, Mr. Simpson is expecting me."

"Yes sir, Mr. Smith. Mr. Simpson just called down to tell us that you would be arriving. His office is on the fifth floor, Room 1A."

"Thank you, Madam." Mr. Smith proceeds to the nearest elevator where he rides it up to the fifth floor and makes his way to James Simpson's office. Mr. Simpson himself is waiting in his office foyer in anticipation of Mr. Smith's arrival.

"Good morning, sir. I am Mr. James Smith. I trust that you were informed of my coming here to see you?"

"Of course, sir. My colleague Mr. Aiken over at the First National Bank of Chicago was kind enough to call ahead of your arrival. How can I help you today?"

"Sir, my business contacts have informed me that Marshall Field & Company will be breaking ground in August of this year for a new mercantile building, to be called ‘The Chicago Merchandise Market.' I have every expectation that this building will be successful, so I'd like to purchase a certain amount of floor space."

"I see, Mr. Smith. How much space will you need?"

"Mr. Simpson, your design calls for a central office tower with 25 stories, surrounded by an 18-warehouse block. I will want the top four floors of the office tower and the top two floors of the warehouse." Mr. Simpson is shocked when he hears Mr. Smith's requirements. He says "Sir, that is an extraordinary request for a building that hasn't even been built yet. The rates…"

"Sir, the rates don't concern me. I am prepared to pay you the sum of $250,000 now, and a further deposit of $250,000 when ground is broken in August. When the building is completed, I will pay an additional $4,700,000." James Simpson pauses for a moment as he considers the implications of this business transaction. He realizes that such an amount will raise the revenue of Marshall Field & Company by several percentage points for this coming year, so he doesn't hesitate by replying "You terms are acceptable, Mr. Smith. How will you arrange payment of the first $250,000?"

"Mr. Simpson, I anticipated that you would find my offer acceptable. Accordingly, I have in my possession a certified cashier's check in the amount of $250,000. It is drawn on my business account at the First National Bank of Chicago. All that I need do is to fill in your name."

"Done. I will have my secretary draw up the contract. We will both sign it and then the document will be notarized. While the papers are being prepared, would you care for some refreshments?"

"Of course, sir." While the papers are being drawn up, Mr. Smith and Mr. Simpson engage in small talk while consuming several cups of the best coffee and a plate of the danishes that Chicago is justly-famous for. Thirty minutes later, the document is ready for signing. Mr. Smith and Mr. Simpson both affix their signatures. Then, Mr. Simpson's notary certifies the document. Lastly, Mr. Smith takes out the envelope with the cashier's check and fills in Mr. Simpson's name. Once the check has been endorsed, Mr. Smith hands it over to Mr. Simpson.

"Well Mr. Simpson, I believe that this concludes our business for today. I will next see you in August with your second payment."

"Thank you for your business, Mr. Smith. I look forward to further dealings with you." The two men say their farewells and Mr. Smith leaves the building. Jack McGurn is waiting there with Mr. Smith's car. He says "Where to now, Mr. Smith?"

"Back to the hotel, Mr. McGurn. There are certain calls I have to make."

Reach out, reach out and crush someone
Date: February 20th, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel
Time: 11:00 AM

Jack McGurn drives Mr. Smith back to the hotel; Mr. Smith heads back to his own rooms while McGurn himself goes to see the Big Man. Al Capone says "Jack, I got a little job for you. I want you and Joe Batters to take a few of the boys and head on up to the North Side. Find whoever remains of the North Side Gang and lay down the law; tell them they can work for me or they can get taken for a ride. When you go, make sure everyone (you included) is carrying those new heaters and that special armor that Smith provided. Have Smith come along with you, too. I want him to see how we do things downtown."

"Alright, boss."

Mr. Smith is in his suite of rooms making telephone calls to various electrical supply houses, machine shops, scientists, chemists and contractors. His purpose is to lay the foundations for an industrial concern with advanced electronics, machining and production facilities. This company will be headquartered in the Chicago Merchandise Market, with production facilities in Chicago and in other states. Just as the last of Mr. Smith's phone calls is completed, there is a knock on his door.

"Open up, Smith. It's Jack McGurn."

Mr. Smith opens the door and says "Yes, Mr. How can I help you?"

"Smith, the Boss is sending me to the North Side along with Joe Batters and a few of the boys. We're going to make the surviving North Siders an offer they can't refuse. Mr. Capone wants you to come along so you can see how we do things the ‘Chicago Way'."

"I'll be delighted, Mr. McGurn. In fact, I have been anticipating that Mr. Capone would do this very thing. After that terrible ‘accident' in Detroit, the senior surviving North Siders have started to hole up in one of Bugs Moran's old warehouses in O'Hare. There are five or six individuals there at any one time. For the others, my surveillance assets have provided me their home addresses, car registrations and other known hangouts. If you wish, we can invite them for a friendly little sit-down".

"Ok Mr. Smith, Let's move." Mr. Smith pauses on the way out of his hotel suite to gather up his armored trench coat. He also arms himself with his long-barreled .357-magnum revolver (carried in a shoulder holster under the left arm) and a double-stack .45-automatic (carried in a clip-on paddle holster on his right hip). On the left side of his belt, Mr. Smith carries a scabbarded bowie knife with a 16" blade and a pouch with four extra magazines for his .45 automatic. Lastly, he puts an expandable steel baton in his right jacket pocket.

Jack McGurn sees all of this and comments in good humor "Smith, what's with all the iron? You're carrying enough for three men."

"Well Mr. McGurn, ‘iron' as you so succinctly put it, is like an insurance policy. It's better to have it and not need it, then to need it and not have it."

"Good point."

Jack McGurn, Tony Accardo, Mr. Smith and a halfdozen of Al Capone's gunsels into three touring cars and make their way up to Chicago's North Side. Local traffic is heavy enough so that the trip takes almost an hour. The three vehicles pull off to the side of the road down the street from the warehouse where certain of the North Siders have been hiding out. McGurn, Joe Batters and Mr. Smith exit the lead vehicle, whereupon Jack McGurn says "Tony, eyeball the warehouse. There are at least ten guys at various places around it, and they all have choppers. Getting inside isn't going to be easy"

Tony Accardo says "Yeah, I see what you mean. Mr. Smith, what do you say?"

"Mr. Accardo, Mr. McGurn, if you will give but 45 minutes or so, I will persuade the guards to stop living and breathing." Mr. Smith's matter-of-fact statement is accompanied by a malignant, almost feral grin."

"Alright Smith, it's your show."

"Thank you, Mr. Accardo. I'll be back presently." Mr. Smith slips around the corner with such fluid ease that it almost looks like he disappeared into thin air. He notices that, of the twelve gunmen guarding the building, only two are near each other. The others are all around the building at various locations, some near and some far. With practiced skill, Mr. Smith slowly, stealthily makes his way behind the first pair of guards. One man has put down his chopper so he can answer the call of nature; his fellow gunman moves a few steps away, turns his head and pretends not to notice. The second gunman has a cigar clamped between his teeth; he strikes a match, starts to light up, but never makes it. Suddenly, a massive pair of powerful hands grabs the second gunman by the head and gives it a savage wrench. Mr. Smith's effort is rewarded by a faint ‘SNAP'. He carefully lowers the body to the ground, draws his bowie knife and advances behind the first gunman. The first man zips himself up and reaches for his Thompson sub-machinegun. His left hand is just about to take the weapon by the barrel when Mr. Smith's left arm snakes around his neck and tightens like a steel vise around the throat. The gunman has no time to make more noise than a low, strangled grunt before he is stabbed to death. Mr. Smith aims his strike so that the bowie knife's razor-sharp 16" blade effortlessly slides up under the rib cage and into the liver. This first gunman is slowly lowered to the ground where he dies without so much as a second noise.

Over the next forty minutes or so, Mr. Smith methodically eliminates every other guard. Three of them have their throats cut, while others are struck down with vicious blows to the back of the head with Mr. Smith's bowie knife; one of these blows is so powerfully-delivered that the blade splits the victim's head down to the upper jaw. The last two guards are killed with blows from Mr. Smith's steel baton; one from a skull fracture and the other from a crushed throat. In keeping with Mr. Smith's fastidious nature, he smoothes his hair and the wrinkles in his trenchcoat before making his way back to where Jack McGurn, Tony Accardo and the other gunmen are waiting. Mr. Smith indulges in a bit of professional showmanship by sneaking up behind Tony Accardo; he taps him on the shoulder from behind and says ‘BOO.' Joe Batters is quite startled, but quickly recovers.

"My apologies for startling you so, Mr. Accardo. I just wanted to demonstrate my professional abilities." To Jack McGurn, Mr. Smith turns and says "Mr. McGurn, there were twelve North Siders, not ten. They are no longer among the living, so you, Mr. Accardo and the others may enter the warehouse at your convenience. When you are done ‘negotiating', as it were, I suggest that we dispose of the bodies. I don't know about you, but to me, it seems that the noses of the Chicago Police Department will get just a little bit bent out of joint if more than a dozen stiffs suddenly pop up out of nowhere."

Mr. Smith gestures towards the warehouse and says "After you, gentlemen." Jack McGurn and Joe Batters carefully enter the warehouse through the open bay doors. Capone's other six gunmen arrange themselves in two groups of three on either side of the entrance. Through the darkness of the wide-open bay, Mr. Smith and Capone's gunmen see lights on in the warehouse's office on the first floor. Through these windows, three men can be seen sitting around a table. Tony Accardo says ‘Alright, Jack. Let's go say hello."

Hi There!!
Location: the warehouse
Time: 2:00 PM

Tony Accardo, Jack McGurn, Mr. Smith and the rest of Capone's gunmen carefully and quietly approach the warehouse's office. Just as Joe Batters and Jack McGurn are about to bust down the door, Mr. Smith hold up his hand and says in a muffled voice "Gentlemen, we don't know who else might be in there. So, I advise caution. The area in front of the door is the ‘fatal funnel', so called because those in such an area are silhouetted in the entry by those in the room. This makes them much more vulnerable to getting hit in return."

Tony Accardo says "Alright, Smith. What do you suggest?"

"Mr. Accardo, I will take the lead and breach the door. As soon as I am through, you and Mr. McGurn will follow me. Mr. McGurn will sweep to the right of the door and you will sweep left. Both of you will cover the room with your Choppers in case anyone inside gets squirrelly. Your other associates will come in behind us. Gentlemen, on three. One…. "Two….THREE!!"

Mr. Smith plants his enormous right foot squarely in the middle of the office door and tears it from its hinges. The door goes flying into the office and falls to the floor. The three men seated at the table are taken completely by surprise. Two of the men are seated facing away from the door. The third man is well-known to the Capone crew. He is Mike Malone, aka ‘Shotgun Mike, who used to be one of Dean O'Banion's top gunmen. After O'Banion suffered a fatal case of lead poisoning on November 10th, 1924, Shotgun Mike went to work for the North Side Gang as an enforcer. In the immediate aftermath of the Detroit incident, Malone made a concerted effort to get the rest of the gang under his control.

The two gunmen seated facing away from the door have no time to reach for their weapons. Mike Malone appears to be unarmed; and his eyes go wide as the door is torn from its hinges. Jack McGurn maintains his position in the right corner of the room, while another of Capone's gunmen takes Tony Accardo's place; Accardo and Mr. Smith come forward to the desk. Mr Smith says to the two North Side gunsels "Gentlemen, I'd be obliged if you were to stand up slowly and back away from the desk. Mr. Accardo, you're on deck."

Tony Accardo sits in front of the desk just three feet away from Mike Malone. He says "Mike, the Big Man just wanted to say hello. After that disaster in Detroit, Mr. Capone figured that you or someone else up here on the North Side would try to take over. That ain't going to happen."

Mike Malone glares back at Tony Accardo defiantly and says "Just who the hell are you coming in here to my place of business and telling me that? I've got a dozen guys outside who are going to come in here and pound you into cannoli stuffing."

Just then, Mr. Smith interjects sand says "Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Accardo. Mr. Malone, your defiance is understandable, if a little misplaced. There WERE twelve of your gunmen outside the warehouse, but not anymore. You see, I killed them all with my bare hands not more than an hour ago. It's as plain as the nose on your face that your negotiating position is highly-dubious." Tony Accardo raises his hand to forestall further commentary from Mr. Smith. Mike Malone's eyes go wide with amazement and more than a little fear as he hears this. Tony says "Mike, I'll make it real obvious to you. The Big Man is taking over the North Side. You and your boys can get with the program real quick or get real dead. It's your choice."

Mike Malone leans back in his chair and says nothing for a few moments. Outwardly, he's calm, cool and collected, but inside, he's building a towering rage. He says "Tony, who's the mountain?' Tony Accardo replies "This is Mr. Smith. He's one of Mr. Capone's business associates#." While Tony is talking, Mike Malone surreptitiously reaches down under the desk with his right hand; Mr. Smith sees this, but says nothing. Without warning, Mike presses a triggering device attached to a double-barrel 12-gauge shotgun bolted to the underside of the desk. The weapon roars, and Tony Accardo is instantly struck in the chest by a total of 2.5 ounces of 00-buckshot. The impact is of such force that he is thrown over backwards out of the chair while loudly shouting "OOF." Thankfully for him, Tony Accardo was wearing the bullet-resistant armored coat provided by Mr. Smith. He's alive, but will be sporting a rather-large bruise on his chest for some days.

In response to this sneak attack, Mr. Smith draws his long-barreled .357-magnum and puts a round squarely in the middle of Mike Malone's forehead. The bullet splatters the office wall with fragments of bone and brain matter. Mr. Smith strides over to where Tony Accardo is lying on the floor clutching at his chest. He says "Mr. Accardo, are you quite alright, sir?" Mr. Smith extends his hand to help Mr. Accardo stand up. He says "Smith, you weren't kidding where you said that armor of yours was good against bullets. If I wasn't wearing it, I'd have a hole in my chest big enough to drive a '27 Packard through it."

While this discussion is going on, the two other North Side gunmen are standing with looks of amazement and fear on their faces. Rather than seeing Joe Batters lying dead on the floor with a wide, bloody crater in his chest, they see him walking up to them with a look of tranquil fury on his face. He says to them "Boys, I'll tell you the same thing that I told Mike Malone. Mr. Capone is taking over. Jack McGurn and his crew are going to run things. You and the rest of the North Siders don't do nothing without his say-so. One more thing, this little sit-down we just had, you didn't see nothing, you didn't hear nothing, capisce?"

Considering that their prospects for continuing to live and breathe are rather limited, the two North Side gunsels quickly yield by saying "Alright, boss." The two men quickly beat a very hasty retreat. On the way out of the warehouse, they see the twelve bodies of their former compatriots being loaded into a truck for later disposal elsewhere.

Safe and Sound
Date: February 20th, 1928
Location: Al Capone's office, the Lexington Hotel
Time: 4:00 PM

Tony Accardo and Mr. Smith meet with the Big Man in his corner office to give Al Capone a report on their ‘meeting' with the remaining North Siders. The other gunsels disperse, either to their own rooms or to the dining room for a hot meal. As Tony Accardo sits down in front of Capone's desk, he grunts a little because of the pain in his chest. The Big Man notices this and says "How did the sit-down go with the North Siders, Tony?" Joe Batters replies "It could have been worse, Boss; except for Mr. Smith here."

"Alright, Tony. I'm listening."

"Boss, Mr. Smith's information was spot-on. Three of the top remaining North Siders were meeting in one of their warehouses, just like he said. There was all kinds of security around the building, too. They had twelve shooters, all with choppers or Browning Automatic Rifles. Jack McGurn and the boys were ready to going with guns blazing. Then, Mr. Smith asks us to stop because he said that he was going to take care of the guys outside the building; that's just what he did. 45 minutes later, he comes back and says that he did all of the guards himself. I didn't hear anything, neither did Jack McGurn or the rest of the crew. It was the damnedest thing I ever heard of. A guy as big as he is shouldn't be able to move like a ghost, much less kill twelve men with his bare hands without breaking a sweat. Ooff..."

"What happened next, Tony. You look like you're in some kind of pain."

"Boss, after that, Mr. Smith busted down the door to the warehouse's office and we all went in. There were three North Siders there, one of whom you probably remember. It was ‘Shotgun Mike' Malone."

"Shotgun Mike", you say. Well, well, well. How is that rat bastard, Tony?"

"He's kinda dead now, Boss. I sat down at the table with him and the two others. Malone starts to make nice, then he suddenly reaches under the table and triggers a double-barreled 12-gauge the bastard had bolted to the underside. That armor Mr. Smith provided is incredible! I take both barrels of that shotgun in the chest from less than three feet away. I get knocked out of the chair ass-backwards, and all I get is a bruised chest!!."

"What about Malone?"

"Boss, Mr. Smith hauled out that cannon he carries under the left arm and splattered Malone's brains all over the wall. It looked like a grenade went off in his mouth, that's for sure."

Al Capone looks over at Mr. Smith and says "I'm impressed. Joe Batters is one of the hardest guys I know. So, anything that impresses him impresses me."

"Thank you, sir. After I painted the wall with Malone's brains, his two companions got all kinds of cooperative. Mr. Accardo and Mr. McGurn laid down the law to them, so to speak. They were told that you were now in charge of all of the North Side operations; they could either get with the program or get dead."

Al Capone asks "Where is Jack, anyway? I didn't see him come in." Tony Accardo replies "Boss, subject to your approval, I put Jack McGurn in charge of the operations on the North Side. He's just the guy to keep things running nice and smooth for you up there."

"Alright Tony, I approve. Smith, I like the way you handled yourself. You got a lot of moxie on the ball, so I got a little job for you. Earlier, you told me about the State of Nevada and how gambling is going to be legalized there in a couple of years. Well, I'm sending you down there with four of my boys. I want you to go to this Las Vegas place and buy as much property as you can. When gambling becomes legal in Nevada, I'm going to jump in with both feet."

"Thank you, sir. Your decision is more foresighted than you know. My contacts in Washington, D.C tell me that there is a certain development project making its way through Congress. For many years now, there has been uncontrolled flooding on the Colorado River. The idea will be to build a giant dam for the purposes of flood-control, irrigation and hydroelectric power generation. The construction crew is going to be absolutely enormous. Ask yourself, sir. What does a working stiff want to do after a long week on the job? I'll tell you, he wants go out on the town with some of his friends and blow off some steam. The facilities that the Outfit will be putting up in Las Vegas when the time comes. Women, booze and gambling; it will almost be like printing your own money. If you don't mind, I'd like to put some of the money you have been paying me into some Las Vegas property of my own."

"Alright, Smith. I got no objections. Timewise, get moving on the project as soon as possible. I want you in Vegas no later than next week."

"Yes, Sir. If you will please excuse me, I have to make the travel arrangements." Al Capone gestures his consent, so Mr. Smith retires to his own suite of rooms and begins making some telephone calls. With much effort, he charters a Ford Tri-Motor from Transcontinental Air Transport for a flight to Las Vegas. There are no direct flights, so there will be stops in Des Moines, Iowa, Lincoln, Nebraska, Denver, Colorado, Albuquerque, New Mexico and Phoenix, Arizona before flying into Las Vegas Airport. The flight is due to leave from Chicago Municipal Airport at 9:00 AM on February 23rd, so there is still some time for additional preparations. Mr. Smith has never been one to waste time, so he packs his travel bag with several changes of clothing and other necessities. He pauses for a moment to consider what weapons to bring along and decides on his twin shoulder holsters and double-stack .45-automatic pistols. Satisfied with his preparations, Mr. Smith calls for dinner and some ‘pleasurable company' before retiring for the night.

On the Road Again
Date: February 23rd, 1928
Location: Chicago Municipal Airport
Time: 9:00 AM
As was previously arranged, the Ford Tri-Motor is on the field awaiting its passengers. This isn't an ordinary passenger aircraft. Instead, it has been fitted out for transportation of VIPs. At exactly 9:00 AM, three cars roll up next to the terminal building. Inside the first vehicle is Al Capone, Frank Nitti, Tony Accardo and Mr. Smith. The second car is carrying the men that Capone has assigned to go on this trip to Las Vegas; among their number is Frankie Yale. The third car has the Big Man's usual complement of bodyguards. The plane's motors are spinning up as Mr. Smith starts to get out of Capone's car. Before the door closes, Al Capone says "Smith, I want you to take this briefcase and give it to Frankie Yale. It's got two million dollars of my money in it. I want you and the boys to have eyes on Frankie and the case until the Vegas job is done."

Mr. Smith says "Yes Sir, Mr. Capone. May I assume that these funds are for the purchase of land in Las Vegas?"

"You're a smart guy, Smith. That's why I like you. Now, every time the plane stops for gas, I want you on the blower telling me where you and the boys are. When you get to Vegas, get back in touch with me. If I'm not available, tell Frank Nitti."

"Of course, sir. Your attention to detail is most commendable. And now, we're off." Mr. Smith exits the car and joins those of Capone's men who are going with him on the flight. Mindful of the Big Man's orders, he holds onto the case with the money as he, Frankie Yale and the other three gunmen climb aboard the plane. Their other baggage is loaded into the cargo compartment by the plane's ground crew while Mr. Smith and the others are taking their seats. As he sits down, Mr. Smith looks around the plane's interior. It is very well-fitted out by the standards of 1928, and there are even a pair of very nice stewardesses in attendance. He thinks to himself ‘there are any number of collectors that would pay millions to have a plane like this in their collection.' Mr. Smith chuckles softly as he remembers all of the security precautions that air travelers have to put up with in the world he came from. The chuckles turn to full-throated laughter as Mr. Smith considers that not only is he carrying his .45 automatics under his coat, Frankie Yale and the other three men have their .45-caliber machine pistols under their coats and short-barreled automatic shotguns in their baggage.

The plane's engines throttle up to full power as the aircraft taxis toward the end of the runway. Frankie Yale turns to Mr. Smith and asks "What's so damn funny, Smith?"

"I'm just remembering something that happened the last time I took an airplane flight; there's nothing to be concerned about, sir. Now that we're about to take off, Mr. Capone wanted me to give this briefcase to you. It has the operating funds for this little trip to Las Vegas, He said that the case doesn't go anywhere without you, it and the boys being real close."

Frankie Yale smiles and says "That's the Big Man for you, Smith. He's never been one to take risks with his money."

"Quite so, sir. We're about to take off, so I suggest we sit back and enjoy the ride. This is a chartered flight, so the stewardesses will be by later with some lunch."

At noontime, the plane makes its first scheduled stop in Des Moines, Iowa for fuel. While Frankie Yale and the others are in the waiting lounge, Mr. Smith gets on the phone back to Chicago to tell Al Capone where they are. One hour later, He, Frankie Yale and the others re-board the plane and take off for Lincoln, Nebraska.

In Old Las Vegas
Date: February 25th, 1928
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: 4:00 PM

After a long and trying journey, the charter flight carrying Mr. Smith, Frankie Yale and the other Capone gunmen arrives in Las Vegas late in the afternoon. Rather than the well-fitted modern airports that Mr. Smith remembers from his previous visits to the area back in 2090, he sees that Las Vegas Airport is nothing more than a compacted dirt landing strip, a water well and a small operations building for Transcontinental Air Transport. As soon as the Ford Tri-Motor comes to a stop outside the operations building, Mr. Smith and the others debark the aircraft and retrieve their baggage. Frankie Yale is keeping a tight hold over the case with the money in it. Two gunmen are standing by as close protection, while the third is standing a little distance away with his eyes open for any possible threats.

Mr. Smith says "Mr. Yale, I'm heading over to the operations building to make arrangements for transportation for us and our baggage to the El Rancho Hotel. Before we left Chicago, I called ahead to make reservations and so, they are expecting us. We'll rest up for tonight, then meet with the people at the Greater Las Vegas Land & Development Company tomorrow morning."

"Alright, Smith. The Big Man says you're in charge, so we'll follow your lead."

"Thank you, Mr. Yale." Mr. Smith goes off to see to the transportation arrangements and returns 15 minutes later. He says "Alright, gentlemen. Let us collect our bags and be off. Two of the airport staffers are going to drive us to the hotel in their own cars." Mr. Smith picks up his own bags, while Frankie Yale and the others do likewise. The party gets into the two cars and drives off to the Hotel. Almost none of the roads is paved, so the trip takes longer that it might otherwise have done. One very bumpy and dusty hour later, the cars arrive at the El Rancho Hotel. This facility is located just off of Highway 91, and consists of 63 rooms on two floors. The baggage is carried inside by hotel bellboys, except of course for the money case held by Frankie Yale.

Mr. Smith announces himself to the desk clerk and says "Good afternoon, sir. I am Mr. James Smith of Chicago, Illinois and these are by business associates. I believe you have reservations for my party." The clerk relies "Yes sir, we do." He hands over the register and Mr. Smith signs in for himself, Mr. Yale and the others. The clerk takes the register back and says "Welcome to Las Vegas. Please enjoy your stay."

Mr. Smith, Frankie Yale and the others take their bags to their rooms. As soon as everyone is unpacked, Mr. Smith calls for a brief meeting. He says "Mr. Yale, we'll be meeting with the people at the Greater Las Vegas Land & Development Company at 9:00 AM tomorrow morning. I suggest we all get dinner and some rest. Frankie Yale says "Smith, how long do you think we're going to be here?"

"Mr. Yale, my business shouldn't take much longer than two days. The plane will be standing by to bring us back to Chicago, per my charter with Transcontinental Air Transport. Once we purchase the land, the next thing I have to do is to hire a local agent to oversee the property until such time as it is necessary to develop it. For now, let us retire to the dining room. I don't know about you, but that long trip we just took has caused me to work up a mighty appetite."

"Sounds like a plan, Smith. The boys and I are kinda hungry, too."

The rest of the afternoon and the evening passes uneventfully. The next morning, Mr. Smith rouse themselves from a very deep sleep and get ready for the day's business.

Date: February 26th, 1928
Time: 9:00 AM

Mr. Smith and his associates arrive for the meeting with Roger Carmody, President of the Greater Las Vegas Land & Development Company. The GLVDC was established as an arm of the Los Angeles & Salt Lake Railroad Company in order to develop the railroad's properties after it was founded in 1901 by William Andrews Clark. Mr. Carmody greets Mr. Smith and says "Good morning, sir. My staff informed me of your desire to make a land purchase. How can I help you today?"

"Good morning, Mr. Carmody. I am Mr. James Smith of Chicago, Illinois. I am President and CEO of Smith Development Enterprises, Incorporated. In the course of my business, I have judged it both necessary and expedient to expand my operations into the Southwestern United States. That is why I am here to see you. My business contacts have informed me that your company has substantial tracts of land for sale here in Las Vegas. I wish to purchase as much of that land as you are able to sell."

"Of course, Mr. Smith. I will be happy to accommodate you. At present, GLVDC inventory consists of 12,800 acres in and outside of Las Vegas. Our main blocs are along Fremont Street, with secondary properties on Las Vegas Boulevard. The land on Fremont Street is particularly desirable because Fremont Street was paved in 1925, and there has been some development in that area already." Mr. Carmody is out to make as much money for himself and his company as possible, so he sets what he believes is an outrageous price for his land "Mr. Smith, the land on Fremont Street is priced at $500.00 per acre and the land on Las Vegas Boulevard is $250.00 per acre. How much will you be interested in purchasing?"

Mr. Carmody's smug look of complacence is replaced by a look of shock and surprise when Mr. Smith says "Sir, I want it all. Every last acre you have, do you hear me?"

"Sir, did I hear you correctly when you said you wanted to purchase all of the land I have for sale?"

"You did indeed, Mr. Carmody."

"Well then, let's be about it. The Fremont Street properties are 9,000 acres in extent; valued at $4,500,000, while the Las Vegas Boulevard properties are 3,800 acres and valued at $950,000. This makes for a total of $5,450,000. How do you wish to pay for the purchase?"

"Mr. Carmody, I am prepared to pay the sum of $2,000,000 in cash to you right now. The remaining $3,450,000 will be in the form of a 12month note with an interest rate of 3.5%."

Mr. Carmody says nothing at first, but inside his mind, he is exulting. The transaction that this Mr. Smith is proposing will be one of the most valuable transactions in the history of the State of Nevada. No more than a few moments passes before he says "I accept your terms. I have a real estate attorney on staff here, and he will draw up the papers for our signatures. While he does that, would you and your associates care for some refreshments?" "Gladly, sir." While Mr. Smith, Mr. Yale, and Mr. Carmody are enjoying some rather fine coffee and pastries, Mr. Carmody's lawyer is drawing up the sales contract and putting it into proper legal form. One hour later, the papers are done and presented to be signed. Mr. Smith affixes his signature first, followed by Mr. Carmody. The contract is notarized by the lawyer, whereupon Mr. Carmody says "These papers will be copied by my staff, and the originals will be filed in the Land Recorder's here in Las Vegas. Now, as to the matter of payment?"

"Of course, sir." Mr. Smith gestures for Frankie Yale to hand over the case he is carrying. Mr. Smith takes it in hand and begins to place the contents on Mr. Carmody's desk. Stack after stack of fresh, new $100.00 bills is arranged before Mr. Carmody's eyes; each stack has one hundred bills in it, with a value of $10,000 per stack. There are 150 stacks in all, for a total of $1,500,000. Mr. Smith completes the payment by taking ten bundles of $500.00 bills from the interior pockets of his coat and pacing them alongside the stacks of $100.00 bills. Each bundle of has one hundred $500.00 bills in it, for a value of $50,000 per stack. As the pile of money rises higher, Mr. Carmody's eyes go wider. When the last of the money is counted out, Mr. Smith says

"Sir, my remaining funds from this transaction amount to some $500,000. I want to set up a business account in the securest and most reputable bank in town. I will also need to hire a manager for the property I just purchased."

"I understand, sir. I recommend the First National Bank of Las Vegas; it is the most secure bank in the State of Nevada, and their rates of return are very competitive." Mr. Smith quickly replies "That will be sufficient, Mr. Carmody."

"Excellent. My staff will conduct you and your associates to the bank, and you can make your deposit there. For now, let me say that it has been a genuine pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Smith." Mr. Smith nods respectfully as he says "Thank you, Mr. Carmody."

Safe and sound at home again
Date: March 3rd, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel, Chicago
Time: 2:00 PM

Mr. Smith, Frankie Yale and the other Capone gunmen arrive back in Chicago after a long and tiring trip. While Yale and the others are refreshing themselves in the hotel's dining room, Mr. Smith reports to the Big Man in Suite #530. Al Capone is attending to Outfit business. He looks up as Mr. Smith knocks on the office door. "Well, Smith. How was the trip?"

"Very long, sir. It was necessary, however."

"How did things go in Las Vegas?"

"Mr. Capone, I am pleased to report to you that my efforts were eminently successful. By combining your funds and my own, I was able to finance the purchase of a total of 12,800 acres in and around Las Vegas. These properties are twenty square miles in extent, and comprise the key locations in Las Vegas. To oversee the property (and to shield you and the Outfit from prying eyes), I set up a shell company called Smith Development Enterprises. I placed the remaining $500,000 after the land purchase in a business account at the First national Bank of Las Vegas. These funds will be used to administer the property. To this end, I hired a manager. All that he and the other locals are aware of is that a big-time investor from the East Coast is setting up shop."

"Smith, what do you mean when you say finance?"

"Mr. Capone, the total price of the land was $5,450,000. I paid for the purchase with $2,000,000 in cash; of this amount, $1,500,000 was yours. I put up the remaining $500,000 out of my own money. The remaining $3,450,000 is in the form of a 12month note bearing an interest rate of 3.5%. Each of the twelve monthly payments on this note are just under $293,000. After that, Smith Development Enterprises will own the land free and clear. My business arrangement with the First National Bank of Las Vegas is that the funds can be wired there. Therefore, no more trips to Las Vegas are necessary."

"Smith, before you came on the scene, $293,000 would have been a fairly big chunk of change. Now that you're here, your advice and assistance to the outfit have got the money rolling in so fast my bean-counters can hardly keep up. This is what I like."

"Thank you, sir."

"Where do we go from here, Smith?"

"Mr. Capone, as I stated previously, my contacts in the Nevada State Legislature tell me that there is a move afoot to legalize gambling in that state. In fact, it should happen no later than March, 1931. When that happens, Smith Development Enterprises will be ready with hotels and casinos. There will also be certain other, ah, entertainment venues."

Al Capone chuckles as he realizes just what sort of ‘entertainment' Mr. Smith has in mind. Next, he says "Tell me again about that dam project, Smith."

"Yes, sir. There is a bill making its way through Congress as we speak. Its purpose is to authorize construction of a dam on the Boulder Canyon section of the Colorado River between Arizona and Nevada. I expect President Coolidge to sign the bill before the end of this year. After that, the project will be open to bidding. Mr. Capone, I presume that you have control of a number of trucking and construction companies, do you not?"

"That's right, Smith. Why do you ask?"

"Sir, the Boulder Canyon dam project promises to be one of the greatest feats of engineering ever undertaken. The amount of money that will be flowing into the Las Vegas area as a result will be absolutely enormous; there will be living quarters for the workers and a railroad from Las Vegas to the construction site. There are going to be tens of thousands of men working in the construction crews. What do you think such men like to do to relax after a hard week on the job?" Mr. Smith grins and says "It involves gambling, women and booze."

The Big Man rumbles with laughter as visions of dollar signs dance in his head.

Mr. Smith continues "Sir, it may interest you to know that, while I was in Las Vegas, I had a chat with local representatives of the Edison Electric Power Company from Los Angeles. Many years ago, the company surveyed Boulder Canyon with an eye towards constructing a dam of their own. They purchased land along the river but, when the project never got off the ground, the company let the land options expire. I used my own money to purchase those options, and as a result, Smith Development Enterprises now owns the land where the dam is going to be built."

"Smith, I'm not up on the construction trades, but what you say makes sense to me. I'll tell my guys in the business to take their lead from you."

"Yes sir, Mr. Capone. W hen the time comes, I will tender the bid in the name of Smith Development Enterprises. All you will have to do is sit back and watch the money flooding in. Now, sir, There is a most-urgent matter which requires my attention in Los Angeles. I will be absent for the next four days. In the meantime, Mr. Bond and Mr. Scarmanga will have full power to act on my behalf."

"Are your guys reliable, Smith?"

"Very much so, Mr. Capone. They and I have a long history together, and let's just say, both of them owe me their lives many times over. Their loyalty and reliability is beyond question."

"Alright, Smith. I'll take your word for it. When you get back from Los Angeles, I want you to head over to Ireland and talk to the distilleries people over there. Lock up as many contracts as possible for the production of whiskey and other liquor, then get back to me after you return."

"At your convenience, sir."

Savin' the day, Savin' the day, part 1
Date: March 12th, 1928
Location: a motel on the outskirts of Los Angeles,
Time: 11:00 AM

For GySgt Joanne Faulkner, the situation had seemingly gone from bad to worse. She graduated in the top of her class in the Marine Corps ‘Alpha' program, which used the most modern biomedical techniques and genetic engineering to produce special operatives for use in covert operations. After being administratively discharged from the Marine Corps, she took up working as a bodyguard and driver for VIPs of the political and social set. Her last charge took (what was for him) an unhealthy interest in Ms. Faulkner. His advances were such that it was necessary for Ms. Faulkner to kill him in self-defense. GySgt Faulkner didn't waste time waiting around for the local police to arrive; instead, she took off. Shortly thereafter, a warrant was sworn out for her arrest.

GySgt Faulkner was on the way back to her safehouse when she was suddenly overcome by a bright flash of flight. An unknown time later, she slowly regains consciousness. She is sitting in a comfortable chair in a hotel room that has a certain ‘retro' look to it, and there is an absolutely enormous man seated across the room from her "Wh…where am I? Who the hell are you?"

"GySgt Faulkner, who I am is James Smith. I think, perhaps, that you have heard of me. I know who you are and why you are on the run. Don't be ashamed at being so easily caught. After all, it was I who did it, rather than some local flatfoot."

Joanne's face flushes slightly with embarrassment as she replies "Yes sir, I have heard of you. You were the very first test subject for what later became the Marine Corps ‘Alpha' program. You wrote the manual and developed the procedures by which all of the rest of us operated. You even had a hand in designing the equipment, weapons and hardware that the program is using today. Last I heard, you retired and went into private business. Then, about five years ago, you dropped off the grid totally."

"Correct on all counts, Gunnery Sergeant Faulkner. Five years ago, I accepted a contact with one Doctor Emmett Brown here in California. The good doctor was in need of a bodyguard. When I signed on, he used his scientific talents to further upgrade my abilities beyond the wildest dreams of ‘Alpha'. After a few months, I found out that Dr. Brown had created a practical means of time travel, and that he was planning to use it to loot the past. This didn't concern me. What did concern me, however, was his attempt to have me killed when I discovered what he had invented. Needless to say, he didn't succeed. After I killed Dr. Brown, I familiarized myself with his technology. I am now VERY familiar with its capabilities."

"Wait just a goddamned minute!! Are you telling me that you can travel in time??"

"Yes, GySgt Faulkner. I am. In fact, you and I are in the Big Pine Motel on the outskirts of Los Angeles and it is March 12th, 1928. Some time ago, I came back here and set up shop in Chicago. I allied myself with none other than Al Capone, the boss of the Chicago Outfit. I demonstrated my capabilities and in exchange for some advanced weapons and equipment, I now have 5% of the Outfit's income as my own. Capone's operations are becoming even more profitable with my help, so my share is only going to grow. And now to you, GySgt. I know that you and the Corps parted company because one of your superior officers took such offense to your operational skills that he tried to rape you. You defended yourself properly and pulped the little bastard's face. Rather than taking him to trial, the Corps put you out on an administrative discharge. It seems that the little bastard's father is a high-ranking general officer, and taking him to trial would have embarrassed the Corps. In other words, instead of greasing that particular squeaky wheel, they changed the tire in mid-race. Your current situation came about after you had been in business for some time as a bodyguard/driver. The last client you had didn't want to take no for an answer and tried to force himself on you, with predictable results I might add."

"Mr. Smith, you are very well-informed. I see that the stories I heard about you back in Alpha weren't all male bovine excrement."

"I'm glad you think that way, Gunnery Sergeant. I extricated you from your predicament and brought you back here to this time to offer you a job as my right hand/bodyguard. If you decline, I will return you back to 2090 and set you up with sufficient funding to keep law enforcement off your back (at least for a while). What you do after that is your own business. Now, what do you say?"

"Considering my employment prospects (and continued freedom) were, as they say, rather limited, I accept your generous offer."

"Excellent, GySgt Faulkner. I rather thought you would say yes. So that we're on the same sheet of music, I'll give you a situation report. I already told you about the weapons and equipment I transferred to the Capone mob; the small arms, body armor and heavy weapons (rocket launchers, grenade launchers, etc) are fifty years out of date by our standards but, they are one hundred years more advanced than anything in the world of 1928. You may recall from your history studies that Al Capone and some of his associates died from heart disease, kidney and/or liver failure, or some other disease. I gave the Big Man a swig of standard nanomeds; they cured his syphilis and his incipient heart disease. I also gave the meds to his chief lieutenants; these are Tony Accardo, Jake Gusik and Paul Ricca. Now that these guys don't have to worry about their medical conditions, they'll probably live twenty or thirty years longer than they did originally (assuming they don't get ventilated with a Thompson sub-machinegun first)". GySgt Faulkner chuckles with amusement as she hears Mr. Smith's last comment.

Mr. Smith goes onto say "Joanne, I have a small support staff here in 1928. They're all uptimers, like you and I. Most of them are in technical support, except for Mr. Bond, Mr. Scaramanga and the two men on the UAV crew." GySgt Faulkner raises an eyebrow as she says "You have a UAV?"

"Yes, I do. Before I came to 1928, I used the time transference device to steal a Ghost Eagle armed UAV from Yuma Proving Ground. I also helped myself to a crapload of conventional munitions, such as DIMEloaded smalldiameter bombs. In fact, I employed the UAV to put a truckload of hurt on a Mob sitdown in Detroit last month; the Purple Gang was hosting the leadership of the North Side Gang (Bugs Moran included). The idea was that the Purples were going to betray Al Capone and throw in with the North Siders. Let's just say all of them were terminally inconvenienced#." Mr. Smith emphasizes this last statement with a malignant chuckle.

"You actually STOLE a Ghost Eagle??"

"I most certainly did. If I was still in 2090, the Alphabet-agency types and the other fumble-fingered buffoons at the Five-Sided Funny Farm would be bashing their heads against the wall trying to figure out how several hundred million dollars of the best equipment the USA had in the inventory just up and disappeared. In other matters, I just concluded a rather large real estate purchase in Las Vegas; said purchase was funded by a combination of Al Capone's money and my own. I set up a front company called Smith Development Enterprises, Incorporated. That entity now owns almost twenty percent of what we could call the Las Vegas Metropolitan area. This brings me to the matter at hand."

Mr. Smith pauses to collect his thoughts before continuing "GySgt Faulkner, Smith Development Enterprises also owns certain tracts of land in Black Canyon on the line between Arizona and Nevada. It is this land upon which Boulder Dam will be later constructed. Al Capone has given me control over all of the construction companies he owns. In this capacity, I will make the winning bid for the dam's construction project. This way, I'll be able to soak the Federal government both coming and going. As you know, gambling was legalized in Nevada in 1931, just as the Boulder Dam project got underway. Much of the opposition to Boulder dam was founded upon a disaster which will be happening tonight, specifically at two minutes and thirty seconds before midnight. North of us is located the St. Francis Dam, a shoddy piece-of-crap construction that never should have been built in the first place. When it collapses, the resulting flood is going to kill almost 600 people. What you and I are going to do is save as many of them as possible before the St. Francis dam breaks. I'm not being entirely altruistic here, Faulkner. If there aren't mass casualties because of the flood, the opposition to Boulder Dam won't be nearly as well-seated as it was in our timeline."

"Mr. Smith, you certainly are one cold, calculating, heartless bastard. I knew there was something about you that I liked. What are we doing first?"

Savin' the day, part 2
Date: March 12th, 1928
Location: The Big Pine Motel, outskirts of Los Angeles
Time: 10:00 PM

Mr. Smith retreats to the second room of the suite in order to change his outfit for the mission at hand. A short time later, he comes back dressed in the uniform of a full-bird Colonel in the United States Army. The decorations on his uniform jacket are those of an officer with years of service in the Army Corps of Engineers. Mr. Smith says to GySgt Faulkner "It's ‘Go Time'. Suit up." With this, he tosses her a suit bag with a uniform worn by women in the U.S Army in the late 1920s. Like Mr. Smith's outfit, GySgt Faulkner's uniform is made of heavy khaki wool. Her decorations and rank insignia are those of a driver in the U.S Army's Motor Corps. When GySgt Faulkner was still in the Marine Corps, she was very fastidious about the set-up of her uniform. This habit carried over to putting on the uniform that Mr. Smith gave her. She takes a few minutes to ensure that all of the decorations are in place before rejoining Mr. Smith in the main room.

"How do I look?"

"Very good, Ms. Faulkner. I'll wager that wool khaki feels quite different from the BDUs you're used to wearing."

"True enough, Mr. Smith. What's the plan?"

"Gunny, our first objective is the house belonging to the keeper of the St. Francis Dam, a Mr. Tony Harnischfeger and his family. They also have a guest by the name of Leona Johnson who is a friend of the family. This house is located just ¼ mile below the dam, and it will be the first structure to be destroyed when the dam collapses in less than two hours. We will go there and knock on the door. We will enter and I will speak to Mr. Harnischfeger and his wife. I will give you a signal and you will tranquilize them with this pistol." Mr. Smith holds up a device about the size of a small handgun as he continues talking "When the Harnischfegers and their guest are out cold' we'll bundle them into the back seat of our vehicle and take them up to the dam's Powerhouse #1. This building is located just above the dam itself, and is in no danger from the collapse. We'll leave them sand and sound outside, then proceed to our next objective."

"What is that, Mr. Smith?"

"Gunny, the St. Francis Dam's powerhouse #2 is located on the riverbank just 1.5 miles below the dam itself. There are 67 workers there, and of that number, 64 are going to be killed when the flooding reaches there five minutes after the dam collapses. We will go there and I will present myself as Colonel Michael Garrity, U.S Army Corps of Engineers. I will speak to the powerhouse supervisor, telling him that the Corps has received information that the dam is in danger of collapsing and that I am ordering that the powerhouse staff evacuate themselves to higher ground. If anyone decides not to cooperate, we'll just tranquilize everyone and move them to higher ground ourselves."

"Mr. Smith, won't we be in danger ourselves?"

"Not in the slightest, Gunny. Our time device remotes will give us as much time as we need. Hopefully, we won't have to use them. Powerhouse #2 is where we're going to make our biggest score; not only are there 67 workers present, their families are also living very close to the building. The total number of people involved is somewhere about 350 or so."

"I can only imagine what the Los Angeles Times is going to say tomorrow when word gets out about what happened."

"Quite so, Gunny. Our final objective is a temporary camp located on the bank of the St. Francis River five miles downstream of the dam. This camp was set up by the Edison Electric Company to house some 150 of their construction workers. I will likewise order an evacuation."

"What of the people downstream of that camp?"

"Gunny, in our original history, a telephone operator by the name of Louise Gipe was on duty in the city of Santa Paula when she was alerted by a call from the Pacific Long-Distance Telephone Company. She was told that the St. Francis Dam had collapsed and that she was to get the word out as fast as possible. Ms. Gipe called CHP Officer Thornton Edwards (who lived in Santa Paula) and let him know what was going on. He and another police officer by the name of Stanley Baker began to ride their motorcycles throughout the city with their sirens blaring loudly. While this was going on, Ms. Gipe called as many people as she could reach in the danger area. The actions of these three individuals saved many hundreds of people."

"Is this going to be all, Mr. Smith?"

"No, Gunny. It isn't. At 2:00 AM, we're going to pay one William Mulholland a little social call at his home. This so-called ‘gentleman' is the chief engineer of the Los Angeles Aqueduct. He also designed the St. Francis Dam. His criminal malfeasance and willful ignorance of his own geological surveys are THE cause of the dam's collapse."

"What do you intend to do?"

"It is very simple. I'm going to shoot that no-good rat bastard right between the eyes. Then, I'm going to leave behind evidence of his dirty business dealings. Now, let's get going."

Time: 11:00 PM

As planned, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner arrive at the home of the dam keeper. Mr. Smith loudly knocks on the door and is answered by a very sleepy Mr. Harnischfeger, who says "Yes, how can I help you?"

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner enter the house; Mr. Smith says "Sir, my name is Colonel Michael Garrity, U.S Army Corps of Engineers. We have received word that the St. Francis Dam is in danger of imminent collapse. I have no time to hear any of your objections, so, by virtue of the authority granted to me by the Corps of Engineers and the Secretary of War Dwight F. Davis, I hereby order you and your family to evacuate immediately."

"Wait just one goddamned minute. Who the hell are you to come here to my house and talk to me like this???" Mr. Smith anticipated that Mr. Harnischfeger would object. So, while Mr. Harnischfeger is venting his anger at being woken up at such a time, Mr. Smith signals GySgt Faulkner to tranquilize everyone in the house. Mr. Harnischfeger's wife and their guest Leona Johnson are in the living room, having also been woken up by Mr. Smith's persistent knocking. Rather than actual darts, the pistol fires frozen slivers of a powerful tranquilizing agent. After penetrating the skin, the pellets melt away, leaving no evidence except a small mark on the skin. The three adults drop wordlessly and unconsciously to the floor.

Mr. Smith gestures towards the stairs and says "Faulkner. Upstairs. The Harnischfegers have a six year-old son named Coder. Zap him and bring him down here pronto. I'll toss these three into the back of the car and then we'll be off." GySgt Faulkner replies just as precisely "Roger that, Boss." Mr. Smith unceremoniously picks up both women; one is slung over his shoulder and the other is simply carried under the left arm. He carries them out to the car (a 1923 Buick 6-cylinder ‘Touring' model painted in U.S Army colors) and dumps them into the back seat. He returns to the house to pick up Mr. Harnischfeger just as GySgt Faulkner is gently carrying a unconscious 6-year old boy down the stairs. Both individuals are placed in the back seat, then Mr. Smith says "Time to exit the AO, Gunny."

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner drive off down the road running alongside the St. Francis River and up behind the dam. Five minutes later, they pull up near powerhouse #1 just around a bend in the road. In short order, the Harnischfegers and their guest are deposited on a small grass lawn next to the building. The is only one light illuminating the front of the massive concrete structure, so there is no danger of being observed. Smith and Faulkner drive back they way they came, and as they pass the St. Francis Dam, both of them hear ominous cracking and rumbling noises.

Time: 11:25 PM

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner arrive at Powerhouse #2. Faulkner keeps the car running while Mr. Smith runs inside the building. He seeks out the manager and affects a manner as if he is out of breath from running. The manager (a Mr. James Hartwig) says "Good evening, Colonel. How can I help you?" Mr. Smith replies "Sir, we don't have much time. I am Colonel Michael Garrity, and The Corps of Engineers received word that the St. Francis Dam is in imminent danger of collapsing. I was dispatched from the local Corps office in Los Angeles to assess the situation. I had my driver take me up there, and as I was coming back from powerhouse #1, I heard the un-mistakeable sounds of concrete cracking and splitting under the pressure. You have less than half an hour to evacuate yourself, your crew and their families before 12.4 billion gallons of water comes down on you like the end of the world!!

Mr. Hartwig shouts for his assistant Roger Callahan and says "Roger, get on the horn and call Powerhouse #1 right goddamned now!!" Roger Callahan picks up his desk phone and taps the receiver three times. There is no signal, so he shouts "JIM, the phones are down." Mr. Hartwig's mind is seized by the cold, clammy hand of fear as he says "Colonel Garrity, do you know anything about this?"

"Yes sir, I do. When I was coming down here from Powerhouse #1, I noticed a whole string of telephone poles down by the side of the road. I think seepage from the dam's foundations undermined the poles. They collapsed and cut the phone lines."

Mr. Hartwig hesitates not a moment before getting on the powerhouse's public address system and says "Attention!! May I have your attention please? This is Supervisor Hartwig. I am ordering an immediate evacuation. Stop what you are doing right and go get your families. Get up into the hills above the river as far and as fast as you can. Don't stop running until you are at least a good half-mile away!!!" This warning causes a mad scramble as 67 men come spilling out of the powerhouse like the residents of a kicked-over anthill. The last man to leave is Mr. Hartwig. He turns and says "Colonel Garrity, what are you going to do now?"

“Sir, my driver and I are going to try and make it down-river to Edison Electric's construction camp. It's about five miles from here, and there are 150 men who have no idea what is about to happen. If I don't see you again, I wish you good luck!!"

Mr. Hartwig waves goodbye as Colonel Garrity's vehicle speeds off in a cloud of dust and flying gravel. As soon as the car turns the nearest corner, Mr. Smith says "Get to the camp as fast as possible, Gunny. We've got thirty minutes before the dam goes."

"Right, Boss-man."

Though the distance is less than five miles, the road running along the banks of the St. Francis River has more than a few sharp turns. There are also no street or road lights. Even so, GySgt Faulkner's handling of this primitive vehicle is excellent. They pull up outside the field camp's gates twenty-five minutes later, horn blaring as loudly as possible. A number of men come running to see what is going on, and Mr. Smith says "Gentlemen, I am Colonel Michael Garrity, U.S Army Corps of Engineers. The St. Francis Dam is getting ready to collapse at any moment. If you value your lives, you will leave. NOW!!! Don't bother trying to save your clothing and property. The supervisor at Powerhouse #2 tried to call and warn your camp but seepage from the dam caused a number of telephone poles to collapse between there and there. The crowd of a dozen men or so around ‘Colonel Garrity' soon swells to several dozen more. Word of what is about to happen flies through the camp very quickly, and the residents are running up the hills near the river as quickly as their panicked feet can carry them. In the meantime, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner drive off back to their hotel.

Time: 11:57:30 PM

At the St. Francis Dam, it is Doomsday. The low growling of steel-reinforced concrete shifting under the pressure of billions of gallons of water quickly becomes a cracking, thundering roar. Great wide fissures in the dam's concrete face instantly appear and run from the center of the dam to the foundations in the valley's walls. The fatally-weakened structure can no longer resist the water's relentless pressure, and it finally bursts with tremendous violence. Huge pieces of jagged concrete are thrown downstream at very high speeds. Larger blocks (some weighing thousands of tons each) are swept downstream by the raging torrent. The crew of Powerhouse #1 hears the cracking and rumbling and run outside their building. They observe a titanic wall of water measuring over 150' tall go down the valley below them, sweeping trees, rocks and fragments of buildings like the Hand of Death. One of the Powerhouse's crew runs back inside and finds a working phone. He gets on the phone and calls in a warning to the Pacific Long Distance Telephone Company. Their chief operator calls the main telephone exchange in Santa Clara. The only operator on duty at this time of night is Louise Gipe. She has years of service working as a telephone operator, and she is quick to put it to good use. Over the next hour-and-a half, she calls as many numbers as she is able to reach. Among these is Officer Thornton Edwards, who is a member of the California Highway Patrol. He meets up with another CHP officer, Stanley Baker; together they spread the word of the coming flood. Their combined efforts, along with those of Louise Gipe, will be later recognized as having saved hundreds of lives.

Date: March 13th, 1928
Time: 12:45 AM

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner arrive back at the Big Pine Hotel less than one hour after they left the Edison Electric field camp. While on the way, they passed numerous vehicles from the LAPD, the LAFD and the LA County Sheriff's department. These resources are on the way to provide assistance in the unfolding disaster. None of this concerns either individual, however. They stop at the Big Pine Hotel for a brief rest, then it is off to the home of William Mulholland for a ‘social' call.

March 13th, 1928
Time: 2:00 AM

At precisely 2:00 AM, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner pull up in the street outside of Mulholland's house. Mr. Smith goes up to the door and pounds on it furiously. The outdoor light comes on and a drowsy-looking William Mulholland opens the door. He says "Yes, can I help you?"

Mr. Smith replies "Sir, my name is Colonel Michael Garrity, U.S Army Corps of Engineers at your service. I need you to come with me right now. The St. Francis Dam collapsed just a couple of minutes before midnight. Who knows how many people have bene lost and how much damage has been done?"

William Mulholland is shocked into full consciousness by these revelations. He says "I understand, Colonel. Give me a couple of minutes so I can get dressed."

"Very good, sir."

Five minutes later, Mulholland comes down the stairs, dressed and ready to go to work. Before he comes off the bottom step he says "Colonel, is there any other information?"

"Yes sir, there is. IT'S JUDGMENT DAY!!!" Without warning, Mr. Smith draws a Colt Police Positive revolver from a front pocket in his uniform jacket. The weapon has a 6" barrel and is chambered for the .32 Colt revolver cartridge. The revolver barks six times in rapid succession; the 98-grain lead round-nose bullets strike precisely where they are aimed (four bullets through the heart and two bullets right between the eyes). William Mulholland's lifeless body collapses to the floor with a sodden ‘THUMP'. Mr. Smith looks down at his handiwork and then, out of sheer viciousness, he kicks the corpse so hard that four ribs on the right side of the chest are fractured. Mr. Smith drops the now-empty revolver from his gloved hand. He places his briefcase on Mulholland's dining room table, opens it and takes out several notebooks and ledgers. These contain clear and convincing proof of every shady deal and crooked land transaction that Mulholland ever did. They are left on the table for local law enforcement to find. Mr. Smith exits the scene without so much as a second thought and gets into the car driven by GySgt Faulkner. She asks with an inquisitive look in her eye "How did it go, sir?"

"Gunny, I gave that slimy, no-good, two-faced, double-crossing rat bastard just what he deserved. I put four rounds into his heart and two into his brain. The weapon I used is an old Colt Police Positive revolver made in 1922. The funny thing about the gun is that the very same revolver is being used right now by a Los Angeles police officer as his sidearm. Imagine the fireworks when some Detective Clown runs the serial numbers and they come back to a gun that the department owns." Mr. Smith's countenance forms a smile that is most unpleasant. His full-throated laughter sounds rather like large boulders grinding together.

"Where to now, Mr. Smith?"

"Back to the hotel, Gunny. We'll get some shuteye; then, we have a 9:00 AM flight out of Los Angeles Municipal airport back to Chicago. When we get back, I'll introduce you to Al Capone and the rest of the Outfit.

"Alright, Boss."

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 22, 2015 7:13 am 
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Location: Currently 3rd Rock from the sun
Considering the ripple effect, I'm wondering how the uptime will change.

Any idea why you were banned at AH.com?

Faugh a Ballagh

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 22, 2015 11:13 am 

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jemhouston wrote:
Considering the ripple effect, I'm wondering how the uptime will change.

Any idea why you were banned at AH.com?

Mr. Smith's purpose is coming back to the past is to gain sufficient wealth, power and influence so that the dystopian United States that he knew never comes to be.

I got s**t-canned at AH.Com for opining that, when the French government started going after those responsible for the terrorist attacks in Paris, their rules of engagement (ROEs) were going to be loosened. I went on to say that I wasn't advocating for this, but that I would understand it when it did happen.

Fast-forward to the raid in Paris earlier this week when the mastermind of the Paris attacks and a female accomplice were surrounded in the apartment where they were staying. The Gendarmes gave them one chance to surrender and, when the terrorists didn't, the Gendarmes done lit that apartment up with 5,000 (!!!) rounds of ammunition. There was so much structural damage to the apartment that the floor collapsed; the corpses of the two terrorists weer so badly mangled that they had to be identified by their fingerprints.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 22, 2015 12:38 pm 
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Thank you for the info

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Mon Nov 23, 2015 8:22 am 

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Garrity wrote:
jemhouston wrote:
Considering the ripple effect, I'm wondering how the uptime will change.

Any idea why you were banned at AH.com?

I got s**t-canned at AH.Com . . . .

Their loss, I think.

"Always join the construction gang, not the wrecking crew!" (Buck Cannon, 'High Chaparral')

Andy L

"Never trust anything you have to sign for. Look what happened to Neville Chamberlain...."
(Albert Arkright, as reported by Gerald Whiley)

"Leave Us . . . We Are DECORATING!" (Miss Quill, as recounted by Katherine Kelly)

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 12:01 am 

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Chapter Three

Back in the Windy City
Date: March 14th, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel, Suite #530
Time: 2:00 PM

After returning from Los Angeles, Mr. Smith goes to pay his respects to the Big Man. Ms. Faulkner parks the car in the Lexington Hotel’s reserved lot, then she and Mr. Smith exit the vehicle. Mr. Smith is back in his usual outfit, while Ms. Faulkner is wearing an immaculatelytailored business suit. The two make their way to Al Capone’s office in Suite #530; Mr. Smith knocks on the door and enters. By now, the gunmen that the Big Man has on security know Mr. Smith on sight, so they allow him to pass without question.

Mr. Capone is seated at his conference table conducting the Outfit’s daily business operations. With him are his principal lieutenants; Frankie Yale, Frank Nitti, Paul Ricca, Jack McGurn and Tony Accardo. The Big Man looks up and says “Good to see you again, Smith. How was Los Angeles?” Mr. Smith replies “It was hectic, sir.”

“What was so allfired important that you had to go tearing out of here in such a hurry?”

“Mr. Capone, I had information that the St. Francis Dam was in danger of collapsing. There were hundreds of people in danger, so I had to act fast.”

“Yeah. I heard about that. The collapse was all over the radio and the papers this morning. What did you do?”

“Sir, I disguised myself as an officer from the U.S Army Corps of Engineers. I judged where the most casualties were likely to have occurred, and I acted accordingly.”

“Smith, whatever you did, it worked. The papers are reporting that an Army officer by the name of Colonel Michael Garrity was directly responsible for saving nearly 600 lives. They also said that the Corps of Engineers was asked for a comment. Their reply was that the Corps had no officers by that name, either serving, retired or otherwise. I know you didn’t do this out of the goodness of your heart, Smith. What’s your angle?”

“Mr. Capone, you’ll recall that Smith Development Enterprises owns the land on which Boulder Dam will be built, and that I will be using the construction companies over which you gave me control in order to tender a successful bid for the contract to build the dam. If all those people had been killed, opposition to future dambuilding projects would have made it more difficult for me to get the contract.”

When Mr. Smith finishes speaking, Frank Nitti looks over at Ms. Faulkner and lets out a low wolfwhistle. He practically undresses her with his eyes as he says “Hey, Smith. Who’s the skirt, some diversion of yours?” These words are accompanied by a chuckle.” Ms. Faulkner glares at Frank Nitti with a look that could start a broken clock. Mr. Smith sees the volcanic fury building in Ms. Faukner’s eyes and restrains her with a small gesture.

“Ahh, Mr. Nitti. Pardon me for being remiss with the introductions. Mr. Capone, gentlemen, please let me introduce Ms. Faulkner. She is my new driver. Ms. Faulkner, would you be so good as to ‘entertain’ Mr. Nitti elsewhere? I’m sure you’ll know what to do#.”

Ms. Faulkner replies with a malignant grin and says “Alright, Boss.” Mr. Smith tosses her the keys to his suite and says “Five doors down on the right.” Ms. Faulkner exits the room, followed by Frank Nitti. There is a disgustingly selfsatisfied look on his face as he leaves.

As soon as the door closes, Mr. Smith says “Mr. Capone, there is some information that I need to make you aware of. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but circumstances have forced my hand. Before I brought this matter to your attention, I triplechecked its accuracy; there is now no doubt in my mind whatsoever.”

“What are you getting at, Smith?”

“Sir, some ten per cent of the Outfit’s business is in Mr. Nitti’s hands. He’s been skimming the take and ripping you off for years.” Mr. Smith opens his briefcase and takes out a business ledger and several folders of other documents. He presents them to Mr. Capone and says “Sir, the information is all in these papers I am giving you; amounts, dates, account numbers, etc. Much of the writing is in Mr. Nitti’s own hand, so there is no doubt whatsoever to its authenticity. Thus far, Mr. Nitti has stolen some thirtyfive million dollars from you”

Al Capone pounds his desk as his face purples with rage. He shouts “Joe, Jack, drag that bastard Nitti back here by the heels. He and I are going to have a little chat.”

As Tony Accardo and Jack McGurn get up to leave, Mr. Smith smiles disarmingly says “Mr. Capone, that really isn’t necessary. My associate Ms. Faulkner is attending to the matter as we speak.”

While this discussion is going on, Frank Nitti and Ms. Faulkner are alone in Mr. Smith’s hotel suite. Nitti’s face leers with anticipation of what he thinks will be a very ‘pleasurable afternoon. Ms. Faulkner grabs him by the collar as if to give him a passionate kiss. Instead, she gives Frank Nitti’s head a sharp, savage twist to the right. Nitti’s neck is instantly fractured between the third and fifth cervical vertebrae, and his spinal cord is likewise severed at the same level. Frank Nitti collapses silently and is dead before his body hits the floor. To emphasize her hatred of the cavalier way in which Frank Nitti acted towards her, Ms. Faulkner picks up the body and raises it high over her head. She drops the body on her right knee and the spine shatters just above the level of the hips.

Frank Nitti’s broken corpse rolls to the floor, then Ms. Faulkner picks it up and slings it over her right shoulder as easily as an office worker might carry a briefcase. She walks out of the suite and back towards Al Capone’s office. The shouting and angry discussions taking place therein are instantly silenced when Ms. Faulkner throws Frank Nitti’s body down on the conference table “Mission accomplished, Mr. Smith.” Al Capone’s associates look on in shock as Frank Nitti’s sightless eyes gaze upwards at the ceiling; the Big Man says nothing as yet.

“Gentlemen, not only is Ms. Faulkner my driver, she is also my bodyguard. Counting the late, unlamented Mr. Nitti, she has killed nine men with her bare hands. Ms. Faulkner is also a better pistol shot than I am.” Al Capone listens and grunts in satisfaction. He pauses for a moment, then says “Joe, Jack. Get rid of this piece of garbage; I don’t want him stinking up my office for one minute longer.”

After Tony Accardo and Jack McGurn have dragged off the body, Al Capone turns to Mr. Smith and says “I’m going to be doing some reorganization around here, along with a little ‘house cleaning’. That bastard Nitti couldn’t have gotten away with what he did without help.”

“Quite correct, sir. The records I gave you have all of the names of Mr. Nitti’s accomplices. When it comes time to take them for a ride, I respectfully ask that you do it quietly. The last thing that the Outfit needs is adverse publicity over a bunch of dead bodies turning up.”

“Alright, Smith. I’ll do it your way. I have also made up my mind. I want everything back that Nitti stole from me. However, his pieceoftheaction is now yours. Whatever remains of his crew after I plant the ones who helped him steal from me are also yours.”

“Thank you, sir. That is most generous of you. Now, with your permission, I and Ms. Faulkner will withdraw. I must arrange transportation for my ‘business’ trip to Ireland; and there is the matter of paying for the whiskey and arranging for its shipment. May I respectfully suggest that you hold that $35,000,000 I recovered for you from Mr. Nitti, and not do anything with it until I know how much the whiskey is going to cost? After I meet with the suppliers in Ireland, I will send a telegram to one of my associates here in Chicago, and he in turn will let you know what the price is going to be. You can have Mr. Guszik transfer the funds into the Smith Development Enterprises account at the First National Bank of Chicago. Then, I’ll have the funds wired to Ireland. May I also make another suggestion?”

“What’s that, Smith?”

“Sir, the note I signed for the purchase of the property in Las Vegas has a remaining balance of $3,450,000. Why not pay it off all at once and avoid the interest?”

“I like the way you think, Smith. Make it happen.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Capone.”

Date: March 21st, 1919
Location: The World Tower Building, 110 West 40th Street, Manhattan.
Time: 1:00 PM

In his capacity as unofficial ambassador to the United States from the Russian Socialist Federative Soviet Republic, Ludwig Martens arrives in New York City for the important task of raising funds for the new Russian government. In addition to this task, he has been authorized to conduct business on behalf of his government. For use as collateral to secure a possible loan, Mr. Martens recently received a locked iron strongbox containing the Russian Crown Jewels. Foremost among the many objects comprising the collection are the Imperial State Crown, the Crown of the Czarina Anna, the Orb of Emperor Peter II, the Imperial Orb and the Scepter of Emperor Pavel I.

Due to the antipathy with which the communist Russians are viewed by certain major financial houses of New York City and by the U.S Government, Mr. Martens has had much difficulty in securing the needed loans. At 9:00 AM, he is in his office considering his next moves when his office manager Gregory Weinstein comes in.

“I beg your pardon Mr. Martens, but there is an American gentleman by the name of James Smith here to see you. He’s here about the loan you are trying to solicit.”

“Very well, Mr. Weinstein. Show him in.” Mr. Weinstein withdraws and shortly thereafter, Mr. Smith knocks on the door and asks for permission to come in. His manners and deportment are smooth, polished and very businesslike. “Good morning, Mr. Martens. I am James Smith, chairman and CEO of Smith Development Enterprises. My firm specializes in providing capital for entities that are having trouble raising capital through ordinary channels. Sir, it is my understanding that you are trying to secure a muchneeded loan for the Russian Republic. Is this not correct?”

Mr. Martens replies “It is, sir. Among the first banking houses I tried was J.P Morgan. I also went to the Bank of New York. Though they listened to me politely, I was turned down.”

“Well, sir. I will be able to help you in that regard. What size of a loan do you need?”

“Mr. Smith, the government of the Russian Republic needs the sum of $25,000 in order purchase needed equipment to upgrade certain sectors of our industrial base. As you are most likely aware of, the recent civil war between the burgeoise representatives of the former regime and the glorious workers and peasants of Mother Russia caused much damage.”

“I see. Well, Mr. Martens. You are fortunate in that I will be accommodate your request, and much more than that. The capital of my firm is mine to do with as I please, so I will loan your government the sum of $150,000, not $25,000 as you requested. Since you have been so shabbily treated here in New York City, I assume that you would like to have the funds in some form other than in actual dollars.”

“That is correct, Mr. Smith.”

“Very good, Mr. Martens. I have at my disposal the sum of thirty thousand gold sovereigns in secure storage here in New York City. This is the equivalent of $150,000. All I need is your signature and the seal of the Russian Republic on the transfer document. The term of the loan is for eleven years and the interest rate is a very modest 3.5%” Ludwig Martens pauses for a moment to consider what he has just heard, then the full import of Mr. Smith’s loan terms strikes him like the proverbial bolt from the blue. Not only are they extraordinarily generous, the amount of the loan far exceeds what he had hoped for.

“Very good, sir. I will sign the loan contract and my office manager Gregory Weinstein will witness. Will this be acceptable?”

“Perfectly so, Mr. Martens.” Both Mr. Smith and Mr. Martens affix their signatures to the document, then Mr. Weinstein also signs as affirmation that the loan contract has been duly made and executed.

Mr. Smith says “Sir, now that the contract has been signed, it is clearly understood that the collateral for the loan will be the crown jewels of the former Czar of Russia. These will be held in my firm’s most secure and impregnable vault until such time as the loan has been paid off. If the Russian Republic finds it difficult to make the scheduled payments, I will offer the option of the loan being paid off in one lump sum (plus the interest) at the conclusion of the loan’s term of eleven years.”

“I thank you for that option, Mr. Smith. I will communicate it to my government. Now, as to the delivery of the funds?”

“Sir, I have arranged for delivery of the gold by means of an armored car. It will be here at precisely 9:00 AM tomorrow morning. The gold is carried in bags that are stored in four iron strongboxes. I will be on hand to oversee the delivery; you and I will count the gold together in the presence of your staff. As soon as the amount has been verified, I will take possession of the jewels.”

“I understand, Mr. Smith.”

Date: March 22nd, 1919
Time: 9:00 AM

Just as promised by Mr. Smith, an armored car drives up to the World Tower Building and parks at the building’s loading dock. If any passersby were close enough, they would see a tall woman in the driver’s seat. The back door of the car opens, and four men get out; they are all armed with holstered Colt Model 1911 pistols and Model 1919 Thompson submachineguns. The driver herself is likewise armed with a Colt Model 1911 and a Model 1919 Thompson.

Mr. Smith is waiting for the truck as it pulls up; he is accompanied by Ludwig Martens and members of Mr. Martens’ staff. He calls over to the driver and says “Good morning, Ms. Faulkner. I trust there were no complications on the trip across town?”

“None at all, Mr. Smith.”

“Mr. Martens, here is the gold as I promised yesterday. My men here will carry the strongboxes upstairs to your office.”

“At your convenience, sir.”

For security, Ms. Faulkner and two of the men array themselves at various positions around the truck. Their Thompson SMGs are in hand, ready to meet any possible threat. The other two men pick up the first strongbox by means of wooden carrying poles passed through loops attached to the sides of each box. It takes no more than five minutes to bring the chests into Mr. Martens’ office. Mr. Smith says “Alright boys. Stand by outside the office here. The Ambassador, his staff and I are going to do a count of the gold. I’ll need you to take the chests with the collateral back done to the truck when we are done.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Smith.”

“Well Mr. Martens, let us be about the business at hand.” Mr. Smith takes a large key from his pocket and opens one of the strongboxes. There are ten bags inside, each of which is tied closed with strong cord. One after another, Mr. Smith places the bags on Mr. Martens’ desk; five on one side and five on the other. He picks up one bag, undoes the closure and pours the contents on the desktop. The coins clink and jingle; care is taken so that none of them roll off the desk and onto the floor. Mr. Smith and Mr. Martens begin the count, and are assisted by Gregory Weinstein and other members of the office staff. As the contents of each bag are verified, the bag is filled, retied and the next one is opened. All told, the count takes three hours. When the count is done, Mr. Martens says “Mr. Smith, as the representative of the Russian Republic, I formally acknowledge that you have delivered the funds as specified in the loan contract. I hereby relinquish the Crown Jewels into your custody.”

Mr. Smith’s two associates begin to carry out the crates and boxes carrying the Russian Crown Jewels. Aside from the separate boxes containing the crowns, another crate which stands out from all the others is a nondescript box bearing the Imperial Russian Coat of Arms on the lid. On each end of the box is a name that any late 20thcentury jeweler or fine art enthusiast would recognize ‘FABERGE’. The inside of this particular box has fifty separate compartments for its precious cargo, the jeweled Imperial Easter Eggs made for Tsar Alexander III and his son Tsar Nicholas II between 1885 and 1917.

Mr. Smith, Ms. Faulkner and the four guards board the armored car and drive off. As soon as they are in a secluded location outside of New York City, Mr. Smith activates the time transference device built into the armored car. Instantly, they find themselves back in Chicago. The date is March 15th, 1928, and the time is 2:00 PM. Ms. Faulkner turns to Mr. Smith and says “That went rather well boss, did it not?”

“It did indeed, Gunny. The terms of the loan I made to Mr. Martens are that the Russian Government had the option of either making regular payments, or one lumpsum at the end of the loan’s term. This term is due to expire on March 22nd, 1930. The Russians are going to default on the loan, because they (and the rest of the world) are going to be assdeep in the Great Depression. When we arrive back at Central, place the jewels in our vault.”

Ms. Faulkner grins widely and says “Very good, sir.”

The Irish Job
Date: March 20th, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel, Suite #530
Time: 9:00 AM

As is customary, Mr. Smith goes to Al Capone’s office to pay his respects to the Big Man. On the way in, he passes Jack McGurn and Frankie Yale, who are on duty outside the office. “Good morning, gentlemen.” Mr. Smith enters the ‘Room of Doom’, nods his head to Al Capone and says “A fair good morning to you, sir. A fine day, is it not?”

“Good morning, Smith. What brings you here today?”

“Mr. Capone, I’m here to apprise you of my latest business venture. When we last met six days ago, I told you of my intent to go over to Ireland and secure a large part of the production of whiskey in that country for the Outfit. I am now pleased to tell you that I booked passage for myself and my associate Ms. Faulkner aboard the steamship Ile De France next week. We will be sailing for Cork, Ireland. Ordinarily, Cork isn’t one of the ports of call for the Compagnie Transatlantique. I overcame this by paying extra for a side trip. Now, for the details. My contacts have told me that there are some twenty of so Irish distilleries that are either closed or operating at a muchreduced capacity. Between them, these facilities have 160,000 casks of whiskey in storage; 80% of this is available for sale and 20% is for the domestic Irish market. I will buy the entirety of that 80% (which comes to 128,000 casks) and arrange for it to be shipped to Cuba, where it will be stored until it can be brought into the United States.”

Al Capone leans back in his chair as he considers the amounts of liquor that Mr. Smith is talking about. Some of the Big Man’s associates whistle in appreciation as they think of just how much money this venture is going to make for the Outfit. Mr. Smith continues by saying “Mr. Capone, gentlemen, not only will I buy that surplus whiskey, I will be contracting for as much liquor as those twenty distilleries can supply. This too, will be shipped to Cuba.”

Al Capone’s chief moneyman Jake Guszik speaks up and asks “Mr. Smith, what kind of profit percentages are we looking at here?”

“Ahh, Mr. Guszik, that you for bringing that up. Mr. Capone, Irish whiskey is some of the very finest available anywhere in the world. When it gets into your distribution system and people get a taste of it, they’ll be beating down the doors to get into your drinking establishments. In terms of actual profit percentage, I conservatively estimate that all funds used in this endeavor will have, at the very least, a 500% rate of return. When I get to Ireland, I’ll be using my own money to put down deposits towards the stored whiskey and the production from the twenty distilleries. As we discussed back on March 16th, I will send word when I find out what the liquor is going to cost.”

“Alright, Smith. You haven’t steered me wrong yet, so I’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Capone. Please excuse me; I have to arrange transportation for myself and Ms. Faulkner to New York City. A wise man once said ‘Time and Tide wait for no one’.”

Date: March 23rd, 1928
Location: The Astoria Hotel, 350 5th Avenue, New York
Time: 12:00 PM

Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner arrived at Grand Central Terminal earlier this morning aboard the 20th Century Limited express train from the LaSalle Street Station in Chicago. The Ile de France is scheduled to depart on the afternoon of March 24th, so they checked into a multiplebedroom suite in the Astoria Hotel to rest and plan their next moves. Among their baggage are cases holding their warsuits and their advanced sidearms. So as not to attract attention, they are dressed in conservative 1920’s business attire.

“Ms. Faulkner, we sail for Ireland tomorrow afternoon. Later today, you and I will go to the Bank of New York and withdraw a certain amount of gold that I have stored there in a rented vault; 600,000 gold sovereigns, to be precise. Each of these coins has 0.28177 ounces of gold, with the total weight being just over 5 ¼ tons. The gold is in iron strongboxes, and will be transported by armored car to the moorings of the Ile de France at Pier 15 at the South Street Seaport. The gold will be put in secure storage aboard ship, there to await the trip to Ireland.”

Ms. Faulkner’s eyes widen slightly as she considers the amount of gold that Mr. Smith is discussing. She replies matteroffactly “Boss, the more time I spend here in the 1920’s, the more I like it. You do realize that if that amount of gold were to be moved in the U.S we came from, it would attract all kinds of attention, both official and otherwise. Here, no one cares.”

“Quite so, madam. Now there are other business matters to discuss. Our future operations won’t just be limited to Chicago and the surrounding states. You already know about the Boulder Dam Job. The Astoria Hotel, the building where we now sit, won’t be here for too much longer. In 1930, the owners are going to transfer their operations to a new building located at 301 Park Avenue. You may know of the new address as the WaldorfAstoria.”

“I do, sir. The WaldorfAstoria is a very nice place. I actually stayed there once before I joined the Marine Corps.”

“Ms. Faulkner, I mention this because the Astoria Hotel will be torn down later this year and the property sold to Bethlehem Engineering Corporation. In 1929, John J. Raskob (who was previously the chief financial officer at General Motors and Du Pont) will buy the property for the sum of $16,000,000 and put up the Empire State Building on this very spot. Rather than letting him do it, I’ll buy the property and have the building put up myself.”

Ms. Faulkner whistles in appreciation and says “Mr. Smith, you certainly don’t believe in doing things by halves, do you??”

Mr. Smith rumbles with laughter and says “No madam, I most certainly don’t. To use a poker analogy, I’m holding a Royal Flush and all the other guy has is a pair of 2’s”.

Time: 3:00 PM
Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner exit the Astoria and hail a cab to take them to the executive offices of the Bank of New York on 590 Madison Avenue. 30 minutes later, they exit the cab and enter the Bank. He approaches one of the tellers and says “Good morning, madam. I am Mr. James Smith and I have an appointment to see Mr. Richard Mellon.”

“Of course, sir. Mr. Mellon told us that you would be arriving today. If you’ll wait a moment or two, I’ll tell Mr. Mellon that you are here.”

“At your convenience.” A few moments later, Richard Mellon comes out of his office; he shakes Mr. Smith’s hand and says “Good morning sir. It is a pleasure to see you again. How can I be of assistance to you today?”

“Mr. Mellon, I have pressing business in Ireland, so I and my associate Ms. Faulkner are departing tomorrow afternoon aboard the Ile de France. The reason why I am here is that I need to withdraw much of the gold I have deposited in your vaults; it is to be used as financing for my venture in Ireland.”

“I see, sir. How much gold will you need?”

“Five and onehalf tons, sir.”

Richard Mellon’s eyes goggle somewhat as he hears Mr. Smith’s request. He is wellused to dealing with highvalue currency transactions, but never in so direct a manner.” He says “Mr. Smith, what do you want done with the gold?”

“Sir, I want the gold transported via armored cars to Pier 15 at the South Street Seaport. Once there, it will be loaded aboard the ship. I want four armed guards in each car; one is to be up front with the driver and the other three will be in the cargo compartment. I will, of course, bear any and all expenses involved in transporting the gold.”

“Very well, Mr. Smith, Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Yes there is, Mr. Mellon. In 1785, the year after the Bank of New York was founded by Alexander Hamilton, my lineal ancestor Robert Smith met with Alexander McDougall, President of the Bank. He deposited the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in gold and left instructions that he, a descendant or an agent of his would be back once a year to check on the balance of the account. This duty now falls to me. So, I would like an accounting of what the balance is at the present time.” Mr. Smith takes a folder out of his briefcase, opens it and presents an envelope to Mr. Mellon. He says “Sir, this is the original account document, signed by my ancestor and by General McDougall himself. I believe you will find everything in order.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Smith. I am aware of the account, and I do believe that it is the oldest standing account at any bank anywhere in the United States. As it so happens, I have the ledgers here. One moment while I send for them.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mellon.” Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner wait while the books are brought to Mr. Mellon’s office. One volume is of particular interest; its covers are of the finest russet leather and are decorated with embossing and gold leaf. Mr. Mellon opens the book, turns to a particular page and begins to read. The calligraphy is in a fine, spidery hand and it says ‘To the account of Mr. Robert Smith, the sum of $100,000 is deposited this tenth day of June in the Year of Our Lord 1785.’ What follows are ten full pages showing the amount of interest earned and the dates when the account was examined.

“Mr. Smith, your ancestor showed remarkable foresight in setting up this account. It has been collecting interest for the past one hundred and fortythree years. I see that the account has been regularly checked over that time. The policy of the Bank of New York is that all interestbearing accounts have their interest compounded on a quarterly basis. This means that, as of today’s date, March 23rd, 1928, the account holds a total of just under $122,000,000.” Richard Mellon’s jaw hangs open slightly as he comprehends the amount of money he is dealing with; he collects himself and says “Do you wish to make any withdrawls at this time, sir?”

“Not presently, Mr. Mellon. I will be coming to see you when I return from Ireland, however. There are certain transactions that I will be conducting in the stock & securities markets. So, my account will be used for the funding thereof.”

“I understand, Mr. Smith. Please let me say that it has been a pleasure doing business with you. if there’s anything else you require, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mellon. I bid you a good day.”

And Away They Go
Date: March 24th, 1928
Location: Pier 15, South Street Seaport
Time: 12:30 PM

Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner are standing at the rails on the promenade deck of the Ile de France as the ship gets ready to depart the Port of New York. They are both attired in immaculatelytailored travelling outfits typical of those worn by high society in the 1920’s. Earlier this morning, Mr. Smith’s gold was transported pierside by a convoy of armored cars from the Bank of New York. Then, the gold was brought aboard and placed in secure storage in the ship’s forward cargo compartment. A harbor tug comes alongside and gently nudges the great vessel out into New York Harbor. The Ile de France’s horn sounds loudly as her propellers foam the water at the ships’ stern and the voyage begins.

As the ship makes her way past Liberty Island, Ms. Faulkner turns to Mr. Smith and says “Boss, even though I know I am back in 1928, the whole thing never seemed real to me. That is, not until now.” She gestures at the New York city skyline, so familiar to her and yet, so very different from the one she knows. One thing that is familiar to both Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner is the giant statue of Lady Liberty, standing high atop her pedestal on Liberty Island just as she was in the time that they came from. Mr. Smith replies “I quite understand the feeling, Ms. Faulkner. For me, the reality of the situation struck home when I put the note on Al Capone’s desk in the sitting room of his suite, a suite in a hotel that had been torn down in 1995, sixty years before I was ever born. Now, that is water under the bridge, as they say. Let us retire to the sitting room between our suites and have a late lunch. I’ll give you an overview of what I have done thus far; I’ll also illuminate you as to my plans for future expansion.”

Ms. Faulkner nods and says “Alright boss, after you.” By the time they arrive back at their suites, the ship’s stewards have already laid out a substantial lunch. The centerpiece of the table is an artfullyarranged basket of various fruits, with dishes of peeled carrots, pieces of celery and black olives. The main dish for both Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner is Terrine of Pheasant; he has an order of Salad Berlinoise with Shrimps Remoulade while she has a Salad Cambarcere with Eggs Ravigote. The meal is followed up with cups of Jamaica Blue Mountain #1 coffee poured from an exquisite silver pot.

When the meal is finished, there is a discreet knock on the door. A ship’s steward enters and says “Monsieur Smith, Madame Faulkner, I trust that the meal met with your approval?” Mr. Smith replies in flawless French “It did indeed, Philippe. My compliments to the chef. The Terrine of Pheasant was particularly fine. We also enjoyed the coffee; I have seldom tasted better.” Mr. Smith further expresses his appreciation of the food and the service by tipping Philippe with four gold Napoleons.

The steward tips his hat and says “Thank you, Monsieur. If I can be of any further assistance, please don’t hesitate to call.” As soon as Philippe has cleared away the dishes, Mr. Smith says “And now, to the business at hand.”

Ms. Faulkner replies “At your convenience, boss.”

Mr. Smith pours yet another cup of coffee and begins “Ms. Faulkner, you are already aware of the fact that I have provided weapons, equipment and other support to Al Capone and the Chicago Outfit. I wiped out the combined leadership of the North Side Gang and the Purple Gang at a sitdown they were having in Detroit not too long ago. More recently, I arranged for the purchase of some twenty square miles of land in Las Vegas; you and I both know how that area is going to take off before too long. Of only secondary importance was our little side trip to Los Angeles; I did this to lessen future opposition to the Boulder Dam project. I own the land that the dam will be built upon and the construction companies that Al Capone has given me control over will get the contract to build the dam. Furthermore, I will own the land upon which the Empire State Building will be constructed, and I will pay for the cost of the building out of my own pocket. Presently, you and I are now on the way to Ireland to contract for as much of the excess capacity of the distilleries over there. We’ll also be arranging for the purchase and shipment of all of their stock on hand, saving only that part for Irish domestic consumption.”

“This is all well and good, Mr. Smith, but what of the future?”

“A pertinent question, Ms. Faulkner. Among my many assets, I have a vessel fitted out for deepsea exploration and recovery. The ship is disguised as a tramp steamer, so that it will not stand out among the thousands of vessels that ply the oceans in the world of 1928. It is my intention to seek out and recover the contents of the world’s most valuable shipwrecks. I know where they all are, or where they will be when the ships do sink.”

Ms. Faulkner grins widely and says “I like the way you think, boss. What’s the first target?”

“Madam, the first item on my agenda is the armored cruiser Admiral Nakhimov. On the night of May 27th, 1905 at 2130 hours local time, she was struck in the bow by a torpedo fired from an unidentified ship of the Imperial Japanese Navy. The crew tried valiantly to save their ship, but had to abandon her when their efforts were unsuccessful. The Admiral Nakhimov sunk at 22:00 hours on the night of May 28th. The location of the wreck is 34# degrees 34'N, 129 degrees 176 minutes 32'E. My staff will use the chaos and confusion surrounding the Battle of Tsushima to allow our recovery vessel to pull alongside of the Admiral Nakhimov, prevent her from sinking and loot her cargo.”

“Mr. Smith, what makes this ship so special?”

“Ms. Faulkner, the Admiral Nakhimov is the single most valuable shipwreck in all of human history. In her holds, she was carrying a portion of the Russian Imperial Treasury. Specifically, there were 5,500 locked iron strongboxes each containing 5,000 British gold sovereigns, 30 bars of platinum bullion weighing 3 lbs each and 48 gold bullion bars also weighing 3 lbs each. In total, the treasure amounts to 27,500,000 gold sovereigns, 247.5 tons of platinum and 396 tons of gold. All of this is ours for the taking.”

For once, Ms. Faulkner is struck dumb. Her jaw hangs open in mute amazement as she comprehends the sheer volume of precious metals involved. When Ms. Faulkner recovers her senses, she says “Sir, my hat’s off to you. I thought what you did before was impressive; I was obviously mistaken.”

“Stay tuned, Madam. It’s going to get better. The next shipwreck I propose to loot is the Portugese vessel Flor De La Mar (the Flower of The Ocean). This ship is a galleon which wrecked in 1511 when she was on her way back to Portugal. Earlier that year, the Portugese conquered the kingdom of Malacca in what we know as Malaysia. They stole everything worth taking; the haul amounted to sixty tons of gold bullion and 60 chests each of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires. The greatest prize of all was Mahmoud Shah’s gemencrusted gold throne. As with the Admiral Nakhimov, I know the precise location of the wreck. Instead of boarding the ship before she sinks, the recovery ship will anchor onsite two weeks after the Flor De La Mar sinks. The recovery submersibles will do the rest.”

Ms. Faulkner sits silently as Mr. Smith continues “No other shipwrecks that we will be going after are as great as these two. However, our other targets are still quite valuable. The ships I am referring to are the British 3rd Rate HMS Sussex (sunk on March 1st, 1694 while carrying a cargo of 10 tons of gold coins), the British 2nd Rate HMS Victory (sunk on October 5th, 1744 carrying 4 tons of gold coins) and Nuestra Senora de Las Mercedes (a Spanish warship sunk on October 5th, 1804 while carrying a cargo of 17 tons gold & silver coins). Last but not least, we’ll be paying a visit to the wrecks of the 1622 and 1715 Spanish Plate Fleets; several of the ships of the 1622 fleet were sunk off the coast of Florida in a hurricane on September 5th, 1622; the most famous of these is the Nuestra Senora de Atocha. The 1715 fleet lost eleven of its twelve ships off the coast of Vero Beach, Florida.”

“Well Boss, that vault you’re having built will certainly be put to good use.”

Mr. Smith grins widely and says “It certainly will, Ms. Faulkner. We’re not only going to target older shipwrecks. When the Second World War rolls around, I intend to go after the richest shipwrecks from that conflict.”
“Which ones are those, boss?”

“I am specifically referring to the SS Gairsoppa (sunk on February 17th while carrying 200 tons of silver bullion), the SS Port Nicholson (sunk on June 16th, 1942 while carrying 71 tons of platinum bullion) and HMS Edinburgh (a British Townclass light cruiser sunk on May 2nd, 1942 while carrying 10 tons of gold bullion from Russia).

The Irish Job, Part 2
Date: April 1st, 1928
Location: Cobh, Ireland
Time: 12:00 PM

After a leisurely voyage across the Atlantic Ocean, the Ile de France is moved through Cork Harbor by a pair of harbor tugs to her berth in Cobh. Ordinarily, Cobh isn’t one of the Compagnie Generale Transatlantique’s portsofcall. However, a judicious payment of $100,000 in gold by Mr. Smith to the directors of the French Line convinced them to make the change in the ship’s itinerary. While the great ship is made fast to her mooring bollards, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner are standing on the main deck at the port rail. They are conferring on how to begin their sojourn on the Emerald Isle.

“Ms. Faulkner, as soon as our luggage is unloaded, we’ll supervise the offloading of the gold from the Ile de France’s forward cargo hold and see that is placed in secure storage here in Cobh. After that, it will be a small matter to check into a local hotel. Our first visit will be to the headquarters of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers in the Ballsbridge neighborhood, just south of Dublin. We’ll be speaking to Sir Thomas Talbot Power; he’s Chairman of the Board of Power & Son Distillery and would certainly be the man to consult with in regards to bulk purchases of Irish Whiskey.”

“That seems a simple enough plan, boss. How long do you think we’ll be here in Ireland?”

“If Sir Thomas is the man I take him to be, we won’t have to be here more than a week. I originally thought that we would have to visit each and every distillery in the Republic of Ireland. That is no longer necessary. All I need to do is to have the gold transported to the offices of the WCID and Sir Thomas will distribute it as necessary. Now let us debark, I see that the porters have our luggage on deck. I want to be dockside when the gold is unloaded. I trust you have your sidearm available?”

Ms. Faulkner chuckles and says “Boss, ‘Old Painless’ is ready to hand in case I have need of her.” Mr. Smith smiles by way of reply. The two of them pick up their personal bags and make their way off the ship, followed by porters with the rest of their luggage. The whole lot is deposited on the dock, then Mr. Smith signals the Ile de France’s 2nd officer to have his men begin offloading Mr. Smith’s iron strongboxes. The ship’s crew fall to their work with a will, and employ one of the Ile de France’s cargo to lift the boxes out of the ship’s forward cargo hold. For ease of handling, the strongboxes containing Mr. Smith’s gold are carried on stout wooden pallets with 11 boxes on each. The pallets are placed on the back of a flatbed lorry and taken off to a secure warehouse near the dock.

Mr. Smith hails a cab to take him and Ms. Faulkner to the Commodore Hotel located near the waterfront. A second cab is necessary to transport their luggage. As their final act, the ship’s stewards load the luggage into the second vehicle and are each tipped with a gold Napoleon for their services. As the hotel is very close to where the Ile d France is docked, the trip takes less than five minutes. Upon arrival, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner go up to the front desk to check in. The hotel manager is there to greet them. He says “Good afternoon Sir and Madam. I am Seamus Monaghan and I am the manager of the Commodore Hotel. My staff received the telegram sent yesterday while you were still out to sea. The Admiral’s Suite has been prepared per your request. Is there anything else you need?”

Mr. Smith nods and says “There is indeed, Mr. Monaghan. I and my associate Ms. Faulkner would like to have lunch in a private dining room overlooking the harbor. I would also like your chief concierge make an appointment with the office of Sir Thomas Talbot Power in Ballsbridge for tomorrow afternoon. When you speak to Sir Thomas’ secretary, tell him that James Smith from Smith Development Enterprises in Chicago, USA would like to see Sir Thomas on an important business matter.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll send word to your table when the appointment has been made.”

Time: 1:00 PM
Location: a private dining room in the Commodore Hotel

Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner are enjoying the cuisine for which Ireland is justly famous when a hotel staff member discreetly approaches and says “I beg your pardon for this interruption sir. Mr. Monaghan wishes me to inform you that your appointment with Sir Thomas is tomorrow afternoon at 4:00 PM.” Mr. Smith nods and says “Thank you, sir. My compliments to Mr. Monaghan. Please ask him to arrange transportation via train to Dublin. I’ll be needing the use of a private train car. I also have certain valuable property in storage at a warehouse on the waterfront, so a baggage car will be needful.”

“Very good, Sir.” In the meantime, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner return to their meal. Outside the private dining room’s bay window, Cork Harbor is at its picturesque best. There is a fresh breeze out of the Northwest, which has raised whitecaps on the water’s dark blue surface. Overhead, the sky is partly cloudy; there are scattered cumulus clouds here and there. Out in the harbor, seagulls are calling, wheeling and diving as they catch fish on the fly.

Date: April 2nd, 1928
Time: 10:00 AM
Location: Glanmire Road Railway Station

After a restful night and a monumental Irish breakfast, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulker are transported by hotel staffers to the railroad station on Lower Glanmire Road. The train to Dublin is being assembled on the CorkDublin Main Line. The private car requested by Mr. Smith is at the very end of the train, along with the baggage car carrying Mr. Smith’s strongboxes. The railway stevedores that loaded the boxes earlier this morning exchanged knowing glances as they handled them. Though there was no noise (because the coins were securely packed), the men had a pretty good idea of what the boxes contain. At 10:00 AM precisely, the train pulls out of the station and is on its way to Dublin. For Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner, the beauty of an early Irish spring day is further enhanced by the elegant sophistication of the steam locomotive pulling their train. In the time they came from, such a machine would have been on static display in a museum. Yet, here it is, in all its steaming, smokespouting glory. Four hours later, the train pulls into Kingsbridge Station on St. John’s Road in Dublin. Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner debark the train, and he goes to the stationmaster to see about the offloading and secure storage of the contents of the baggage car. Transportation to Ballsbridge is arranged, and they are soon on their way to the offices of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers. The train arrives at 2:00 PM, and so, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner spend the next hour and 45 minutes on a walking tour of those parts of Dublin closest to Ballsbridge.

At precisely 4:00 PM, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner present themselves at the offices of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers. Outwardly, the architecture of the building is the style of the ‘Regency’ period. Inside, the Company’s offices are wellfurnished with paintings, sculpture and other items of art. While Ms. Faulkner stands by, Mr. Smith goes to the secretary’s desk and says “Good afternoon, madam. I am James Smith, from Chicago. I have an appointment to see Sir Thomas Talbot Power.”

“One moment, if you please. I will inform Sir Thomas of your arrival.”

“At your convenience, madam.”

A short time later, the secretary comes out of the office and says “Mr. Smith, Sir Thomas will see you now.” She shows him into the office and then departs. Sir Thomas is seated behind his ornate oaken desk. As soon as Mr. Smith enters, he stands up and greets him “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith, I am Sir Thomas Talbot Power, principal secretary of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers.”

“Good afternoon, Sir Thomas. I am James Smith, Chairman of Smith Development Enterprises, located in the city of Chicago, USA. My firm has been looking into expanding its operations outside of the United States. Unfortunately, the Volstead Act prohibits me from the manufacture, sale and distribution of spirituous liquors in the United States. However, no mention was made of such outside the U.S. My sources in Cuba, Mexico and points south have told me that the people there have developed quite the taste for Irish Whiskey.”

“I see, Mr. Smith. How can I be of assistance?”

“Sir, I know that ever since passage of the Volstead Act, the various distilleries represented by the Worshipful Company has seen a serious decline in business; your own firm Power and Son among them. Some distilleries have even closed their doors. I am also aware that your firm, Bushmills Distillery and a number of others have a total of 160,000 casks of whiskey of various grades in storage. You and I both know that Irish whiskey is among the finest to be had anywhere in the world, surpassing even the product of Scotland and certain districts in the American state of Tennessee. As principal secretary of the Worshipful Company, you are authorized to conduct business on behalf of the member distilleries. I propose to purchase as much of this surplus as you are able to provide. Furthermore, I want to contract with your member distilleries for however much of their production capacity is available.”

“That is a monumental proposal, sir. You are aware that a certain portion of the surplus and production capacity is needed for domestic consumption.”

“Of course, Sir Thomas. What proportion would be available?”

“Mr. Smith, as you said before, there are 160,000 casks of whiskey in the warehouses of the various distilleries. Of this, 80% (or 128,000 casks) is available for purchase and export. On production capacity, my own firm of Power and Son (along with the other members of the Worshipful Company) can devote 70% of their output to the export market. I will point out, however, that none of them are operating at anywhere near their normal capacity. Many of the member distilleries of the Company have had to either shut down or furlough many of their workers. To bring them back up, the workers would have to be rehired and new equipment purchased.”

“Money isn’t an issue for me, Sir Thomas. Now, as to financing, those 128,000 casks have an average price of 25 pounds and forty pence each. With the present rate of exchange between the Pound Sterling and the American dollar, that comes out to $127.00 per cask. This sum, multiplied by the 128,000cask total, comes out to $16,256,000 or 3,251,200 pounds sterling. As a deposit, I have at my immediate disposal the sum of 600,000 gold sovereigns. These coins are in locked iron strongboxes stored in the transit vault of Kingsbridge Station on St. John’s Road (pending instructions from me on their final disposition). If you are amenable, I will draw up a noteofhand authorizing you (or such members of your staff as you so designate) to receive the gold on my behalf. The remaining balance of 2,651,200 pounds will be wired from my account at the First National Bank of Chicago to whichever bank you choose.”

“That is all well and good, Mr. Smith, but what of expanding distillery production and transporting the new and stored whiskey?”

“Sir Thomas, in your capacity of Principal Secretary of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers, I want you to provide me an estimate as to how much it would cost to bring those distilleries back online. These costs will be paid by me via wire transfer. In regards to transportation, the Bushmills Distillery in County Antrim, Northern Ireland formerly used their own steamship (the S.S Bushmills) to transport their product for export. As I understand it, she has been laid up these three years past because of lack of need. I wish to hire this vessel. She’ll transport the stored whiskey and all future production to my warehouses in Havana, Cuba.”

Sir Thomas says “That will be perfectly acceptable, Mr. Smith. My staff will draw up the papers for our signatures.” Mr. Smith replies “I want it clearly understood that this contract is for five years, with an option to renew or cancel as circumstances warrant.”

“But of course, sir.” The next hour is taken up by Sir Thomas’ staff drawing up the contract. When it is done, both he and Mr. Smith affix their signatures to the documents. The contract is completed when Sir Thomas seals it with the seal of the Worshipful Company.

“What will you do now, Mr. Smith?”

“My associate and I will stay overnight here in Dublin. Then, we’ll catch the train back to Cork. From there, we’ll board the Isle de France and sail back to the United States. The funds to complete the purchase of the stored whiskey will be wired to your back immediately upon my return.”

“Excellent, sir. On behalf of the Worshipful Company of Irish Distillers, please let me say that it has been a pleasure doing business with you. Sir Thomas and Mr. Smith shake hands, then Mr. Smith exits the office. Ms. Faulkner joins him as they leave the building.

“How did it go, boss?”

Mr. Smith chuckles and says “Ms. Faulkner, you should have seen Sir Thomas’ eyes go wide when I started mentioning what I wanted to do. As soon as I told him that I was giving him that 5 1/4 tons of gold we brought along, he was ready to stand up and do backflips around his office.” She smiles and replies “Yeah boss, I can just see him doing that. Where to now?”

“We’re staying in Dublin tonight and taking the train back to Cork tomorrow morning. When we get back to the Commodore Hotel, I want you to send a coded wire to Mr. Scaramanga. Have him tell the Big Man that the Irish Job is proceeding as planned. Request that the Big Man transfer the sum of $13,256,200 to the Smith Development Enterprises account at the First National Bank of Chicago. Further instructions upon arrival.”

“You got it, Boss.”

The Next Job
Date: April 11th, 1928
Location: The Lexington Hotel, Suite #530
Time: 2:00 PM

Immediately upon arriving back at their home base in Chicago, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner pay their respects to Al Capone in his office in the Lexington Hotel.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Capone. I am please to be able to report that my trip to Ireland was a complete and total success. I purchased all of the stored whiskey that was available for sale over there, amounting to 128,000 casks. The casks are of hogshead size, meaning that they hold 66 gallons each. Therefore, the total amount of whiskey is 8,448,000 gallons. I have some better news.”

“What‘s that, Smith?”

“I was able to lock down a substantial portion of the production capacity of the twenty largest distilleries in Ireland; 70% to be precise. They believe that Smith Development Enterprises is buying their product for export to Mexico and points south. By the way, sir, I thank you for depositing the requested sum of $13,256,200 in my account at the First National Bank of Chicago. Presumably, this is from the money I recovered for you from the late, unlamented Mr. Nitti.”

“That’s right, Smith. I got your telegram ten days ago. Jake Guszik personally handled the deposit. Alright, Jake. I see you bouncing around over there like a cat on a hot, tin roof. What gives?”

“Boss, I have been going over the books. Ever since Mr. Smith came on board with the Outfit, liquor sales are up 50%. The same holds true for business at the joy houses. If this rate of increase holds out, the Outfit will double its business by the end of the year.”

The Big Man rumbles with pleasurable laughter and says “That’s the kind of news I like to hear, Jake. What else do you have for me?”

“Mr. Capone, word is getting out among the competition in other states that the Outfit’s liquor is better than anything they can hope to produce. I wouldn’t be surprised if some bunch with more balls than brains tries to knock over one of your warehouses or hijack some of your shipments.”

“You don’t say, Jake.” The Big Man reaches over for the humidor on his desk and extracts a fat Cohiba cigar. He clips off the end with a solid platinum cigar cutter, lights up and takes a few, slow puffs. The fragrant, bluegray smoke rises towards the ceiling as Al Capone says “I want extra security on all the runs; three torpedoes on each truck in addition to the driver. If anyone is stupid enough to try helping themselves to my booze, blast them to doll rags. The same thing goes for my warehouses.”

“Right, boss.”

Mr. Smith listens to the discussion and politely his hand. The Big Man says “What’s on your mind, Smith?”

“Sir, you mentioned warehouse robbery. There is another source of very highquality liquor here in Chicago, right under your very nose. When the Volstead Act was passed in 1919, importers and distributors of liquor faced the loss of their inventories. Rather than seeing it all flushed down the drain, their inventory was placed in bonded warehouses. The idea being to release it when the sale of liquor is legal again. In the Chicago area, there are a dozen of these bonded warehouses. Each of these facilities contains an average of 375,000 gallons. In total, there is 4,500,000 gallons of product just waiting for someone to come along and help themselves.”

“Smith, I already knew about the bonded warehouses. What I didn’t know is how much they actually contained. What do you propose? Those warehouses are locked up tighter than a Federal Reserve Bank.” Mr. Smith grins smugly and says “Leave that to me and my staff, sir. If I can get into and out of your office without your best torpedoes ever noticing that I was there, I hardly think a bunch of rentacops is going to get in my way. So as to not attract too much in the way of official attention, I am going to replace the product I steal with identicallymarked cases of bottles containing nothing but water.”

Al Capone chortles with malignant glee as he says “I can only imagine what the idiots in charge of those warehouses are going to think when they check their stock and find nothing but tap water in its place.” He continues to laugh as he says “Goddamnit, Smith. You’re a devious bastard, I like the way you think!!”

“Thank you, sir. I have another proposal for your consideration.”

“What is it, Smith?”

“Mr. Capone, each of the Outfits in the United States has its own territory; I am referring to you here in Chicago, the Five Families in New York, the Patriarcas and the Angiullos in New England, as well as the other families in Kansas City, Los Angeles and elsewhere. It occurs to me that there should be a group to moderate disputes over territory and ‘business’ activities, a ‘Commission’, if you will. On this Commission, the head of each family or outfit could sit in person, or designate a representative to act in his stead. The commission’s purpose would be to adjudicate disputes and prevent the breakout of wars between the families. A fullscale crime war is bad for business; it’s a poor servant and an even worse master. I respectfully suggest that you send out feelers to the other outfits and raise the issue with them. The heads of the New York and New Jersey families don’t strike me as being stupid, so I think they’ll go along with the idea. The Chicago Outfit does have a number of other families as allies, principally in Los Angeles, Kansas City, New Orleans, Milwaukee and Cleveland. If you greenlight the Commission, they’re sure to go along with you.”

“Alright, Smith. I’ll take it under advisement. If you have nothing else for me, that’s all for today.”

“Actually, there’s one more thing, sir. In three days, my associate Ms. Faulkner and I are flying down to Cuba to arrange for the storage of the liquor I am having shipped in from Ireland. After it gets there, it will be up to the Outfit to get it into the United States. While we’re in Cuba, we’ll speak to a few people in their government and grease a few palms. This will be to lay the ground floor for expansion of the Outfit’s gambling activities to the island.”

“Keep me apprised, Smith.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Capone. Ms. Faulkner, follow me, if you please.” The two of them exit the Big Man’s office while Al Capone, Jake Guszik and the others turn their attention back to Outfit business.

Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner proceed down the hallway from Al Capone’s office and enter the sitting room which joins their two suites together. When the door closes, Mr. Smith says “Gunny, before we fly down to Cuba, I’m going to clue you in on my next big operation.”

“Boss, I am (as they say) all ears. What’s the plan?”

“Gunny, it took me six months after my first arrival in the past to set up operations and get them running to the point where I made myself to Al Capone. Among the assets I have at my disposal are the UAVs, their ground control station and a ship named the SS Glomar Explorer. This vessel is named after the one that Howard Hughes built so that the Central Intelligence Agency could use it to raise the wreck of the Russian submarine K129 after she sank in 1968. My ship is disguised as a cargo carrier of the 1920s; the specific plan is of the Design 1013 vessel built by the Skinner & Eddy Corporation of Seattle, Washington. Underneath the Glomar explorer’s ordinary appearance, she’s a highlysophisticated craft designed specifically to recover the contents of shipwrecks on the ocean floor. Part of her capability revolves around the ability to launch and recover small submersibles directly through the bottom of her hull. Currently, the Glomar Explorer is moored at an outoftheway dock in the Port of New York & New Jersey.”

“Ahh, I understand, boss. We’re going ‘AViking’, as it were.”

“Precisely, Gunny. The target for this trip is the Russian armored cruiser Admiral Nakhimov. She sank just before midnight on May 28th, 1905 during the Battle of Tsushima. The ship took a torpedo from an unknown Japanese vessel at about 2230 hours on May 27th. The crew tried to save their ship, but were obviously unsuccessful.”

“Boss, what makes this ship so special?”

“Gunny, the Admrial Nakhimov is the single most valuable shipwreck in all of maritime history. At the time of her sinking, she was carrying a substantial portion of the Russian Imperial Treasury. The exact contents were 247.5 tons platinum bullion, 396 tons gold bullion and 27,500,000 gold sovereigns. What we will do is to use the cover of darkness and the confusion of battle to come alongside her after she has been abandoned and before she sinks. If there are any crew still left aboard, they will be incapacitated or killed. The ship’s own cargo cranes will be used to offload the contents of her holds onto the Glomar Explorer. Unlike our other operations, this one carries a substantial amount of risk.”

“Why is that, Boss?”

“Gunny, this is the Battle of Tsushima we’re talking about. The Japanese and Russian fleets are will still be blasting away at each other. The Japanese fleet might start shooting at us because they see us as obviously foreign and possibly an ally of the Russians. The Russians would definitely get bent out of joint if they see a strange ship & crew trying to board their warship.”

“I see your point. The idea of being aboard an unarmed merchant ship while gigantic highexplosive shells are being flung in my general direction will certainly quicken the pulse, as it were.”

“Quite so. That is why the operation will take place at night.”

“When do we begin?”

“After our business in Cuba is concluded, we’ll fly directly to New York City and board the Glomar Explorer there. We’ll sail to the general vicinity of the Admiral Nakhimov’s sinking and use the ship’s built-in time device to go back to 1905.”

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 2:50 am 

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So... how did Wilson Fisk get back to 1928? ;)

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Bernard, Ministers should never know more than they need to. Then they can't tell anyone. Like secret agents, they could be captured, tortured.
Bernard Woolley: You mean by terrorists?
Sir Humphrey Appleby: By the BBC, Bernard.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 11:38 am 

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Craiglxviii wrote:
So... how did Wilson Fisk get back to 1928? ;)

Compared to Mr. Smith, the Kingpin is a rank amateur......

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 1:48 pm 

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This has a strange appeal to it. The "magnificent bastard" if you will.

Belushi TD

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 3:49 pm 

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Belushi TD wrote:
This has a strange appeal to it. The "magnificent bastard" if you will.

Belushi TD

But of course.......... :D

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 2:20 pm 

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Chapter Four

In Old Havana
Date: April 16th, 1928
Location: Havana, Cuba
Time: 1:00 PM

After a trip which took the better part of two days, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner finally arrive in Havana, Cuba. Their journey began in Chicago on April 14th, where they boarded a charter flight to New York City. From New York City, the next flight was direct to Miami Beach (with a layover in Norfolk, Virginia for refueling and a change of crew). From Miami Beach, there was a direct flight on a Ford TriMotor wearing the livery of the Aviation Corporation of The Americas. In keeping with the businesslike nature of their trip, Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner have only a minimum of luggage.

The first government functionary that Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner have to deal with is a customs officer by the name of Ricardo Alvarado. His head is down over his desk, and he is engaged in making his afternoon report. As such, he doesn’t notice the two imposing individuals until Mr. Smith clears his throat.


The customs officer looks up and says accented (but perfect) English “Good morning, senor. How can I help you today?”

Mr. Smith replies “Buenos Tardes, Senor Alvarado. I am James Smith, chairman of Smith Development Enterprises, Chicago, USA. I am here on important matters of business. The lady here is my business associate, Ms. Faulkner. Officer Alvarado’s eyes widen somewhat as he looks at the tall, statuesque blonde woman standing to Mr. Smith’s right. He nods his head and says “Bienvenido a Cuba, Senor Smith, Senora Faulkner.” Officer Alvarado is a living example of the corruption that is endemic in Cuban society at all levels, in both the private and public sectors. Reflexively, his hand is out almost at the same time he begins speaking “Do you have anything to declare, Senor Smith?”

Mr. Smith instantly recognizes what is on his mind and says “Nothing but our personal baggage, which we have here.” Officer Alvarado moves to ‘inspect’ the luggage, but is forestalled when Mr. Smith raises his hand and says “Senor, I realize that you have a job to do. However, my business here in Cuba is of suck importance that it will admit of no delay whatsoever. I have certain documentation which will act to speed our passage.” Officer Alvarado gesture sin the affirmative, whereupon Mr. Smith extracts an envelope from his coat pocket and hands it over.

Officer Alvarado accepts the envelope and opens it. Instead of folded papers of one sort or another, there is the sum of one thousand dollars in United States Currency; ten crisp, new $100.00 bills. He smiles and says “Your documentation is all in order, Senor Smith. Please enjoy your stay.”

Before Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner turn to leave, he says “One moment, Senor Alvarado. Can you recommend a good hotel? Senora Faulkner have had a long trip in getting here and we wish to refresh ourselves before we continue.”

“Of course, Senor Smith. There are any number of hotels here in Havana, some good, some excellent and some that are, shall we say, not quite so good. Quite a few Norteamericanos like you and Senora Faulkner choose to stay at the Hotel Santa Isabel in downtown Havana. It’s the best hotel in the city.”

“The Hotel Santa Isabel is is, then. Thank you for your information, Senor Alvarado.”

“De nada, Senor Smith.” As Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner leave the customs office to arrange transportation to the hotel, Officer Alvarado takes a moment to roll his eyes all over Ms. Faulkner’s shapely form. In ancient Greece, she could have modeled for great classical masters (like Phidias of Athens) as they sculpted marble statues of goddesses fit for pubic worship. These days, Ms. Faulkner’s appearance is so unusual that it can’t help but attract such attention. She notices Alvarado’s sidelong glances out of the corner of her eye; the hackles rise on the back of her neck, but her professionalism is such that Ms. Faulkner doesn’t succumb to her first impulse (which would have been to rearrange Alvarado’s face).

Mr. Smith hails a taxi to take them to the hotel. While they are waiting, Ms. Faulkner says “Boss, did you see the way that ‘Neanderthal’ was undressing me with his eyes?”

“I most certainly did, Gunny. A blind man could have seen it. You showed commendable restraint in not breaking the guy’s nose. There is another thing; Alvarado was rather quick to recommend the Hotel Santa Isabel. They probably bribed him to send clients their way.”

“Yeah I did, Boss. Should we be concerned?”

“No more than usual, Gunny. The Hotel Santa Isabel is a legitimate place, and it really is the best hotel in Havana. I had my first big job for Uncle Sugar here in 2075. It involved a rabble-rousing little **** by the name of Maximillio Gutierrez. The Company had me come down here to say hello to the guy; he had connections in the Cuban Interior Ministry and was therefore untouchable up to then. Gutierrez had outlived his usefulness, and Langley decided it was time for the guy to take a permanent dirt nap. I mention this because I stayed in the Hotel Santa Isabel before the Job was done.”

“You did that job, boss? I remember when it happened, and there was quite the stink in all the papers. What’s the hotel like? I halfthought you were going to turn down that Alvarado guy’s recommendation and have us go stay at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba.”

Mr. Smith rumbles with laughter and says “Gunny, I would have, except for the inconvenient fact that the Hotel Nacional is still under construction; it won’t be finished until 1930.” Ms. Faulkner laughs also; her rich, contralto voice easily counterpoises with Mr. Smith’s boulderlike laughs. ”As for the Hotel Santa Isabel, it is grandly-done in the Spanish Colonial Style. It appeals to my artistic sense, so I think you’ll like it. Ahh, the taxi is here. Let us depart, madam.”

The taxi driver gets out of his vehicles and moves to put the luggage in the trunk. Mr. Smith waves him off and performs that task with his own hand (saving only a burgundyleather briefcase which he carries). He and Ms. Faulker board the taxi and drive off. Due to the congestion on the streets of Havana, the trip takes approximately 15 minutes. On the drive, Mr. Smith is lost in his own memories of what Havana looked like the first time he was here. Here and there, he spots buildings which were there in 2075. At times, the déjà vu is almost overwhelming.

The taxi finally arrives at the Hotel Santa Isabel and pulls up to the main entrance. Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner alight and collect their baggage from the trunk. Hotel porters appear and this time, Mr. Smith allows them to pick up the luggage and place it on an ornate brass hand cart; he keeps possession of his briefcase and tips the taxi driver $50.00 before he leaves.

Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner go to the front desk and are greeted by the hotel manager, Mr. Alfredo Perez. He says “Goof afternoon, senor and senora. How can I be of assistance to you this fine Spring day?”

“Good afternoon, Senor Perez. I am James Smith, chairman of Smith Development Enterprises, Chicago, USA; this lady is Ms. Faulkner, my business associate. We have come to Cuba on an important business matter and I need the best rooms in the house. Tell me, is the Baronial Suite available?” Senor Perez replies “Why yes, it is, Senor Smith. Have you stayed here before?”

“No, Senor Perez. I have never stayed here before; I know of this hotel and that suite only by reputation.”

“You are in luck, Senor Smith. That suite has just recently been renovated and is now open for guests. What will be the duration of your stay?”

“Senor Perez, my business here in Cuba shouldn’t take me any more than a week; ten days at the outside.”

Senor Perez thinks for but a moment, then quotes what he believes to be an outrageous figure as the room rate. “Senor Smith, as you already know, the Baronial Suite is the best room in the house. It was just recently renovated so, I must tell you that the going rate is $200.00 per night.”

“I’ll take it. I will also pay you the full rate in advance for our entire stay.” Mr. Smith peels off twenty $100.00 bills and hands them to the hotel manager.” Having $2,000 cash in hand causes Senor Perez to regard Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner in an entirely new light. He says “You show excellent taste, Senor Smith. If there is anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Mr. Smith nods his head and shakes Senor Perez’ hand. He replies “Actually, there is. As the Hotel Santa Isabel is the best such institution in the city, you must have played host to government ministers and dignitaries at various times in the past. Therefore, you must have contacts in the several departments of the Government of Cuba. Is this not so?”

“You are quite correct, Senor Smith. You are remarkably wellinformed. Why do you ask?”

“Senor Perez, I want you to use your contacts to make an appointment for me and my associate Ms. Faulkner. I want to see the Minister of Foreign Trade and Investment, Senor Hector Sanchez tomorrow afternoon.

“That may be difficult, Senor Smith. Minister Sanchez has many demands on his time.”

“Senor Perez, you know as well as I do that the ‘schedule’ of the ministers in the Government of Cuba is, shall we say, open to ‘commercial’ negotiation. Make it happen.” Something about Mr. Smith’s nononsense deportment demonstrates to Senor Perez that this enormous Norteamericano isn’t the typical businessman. So, he acquiesces and says “Senor Smith, I will do as you ask. What time do you wish for the appointment?”

“2:00 PM will be sufficient, Senor.”

It’s just business
Date: April 17th, 1928
Location: Ministry of Trade & Foreign Investment; Havana, Cuba
Time: 2:00 PM

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner arrive at the Ministry of Foreign Trade & Investment in downtown Havana at precisely 1:50 PM for their appointment with Hector Sanchez. Unlike on other outings, the two are wearing their warsuits underneath their business outfits. GySgt Faulkner turns to Mr. Smith and says “Boss, this is the first time we’re wearing these things, why the extra precautions?”

“Gunny, there are two reasons. First, that tipping I have been doing is bound to attract certain amounts of ‘unofficial’ attention. Though I intend this to happen, I would have us be ready when it does. The second reason is contained within this briefcase I am carrying.” Mr. Smith holds the case up for emphasis.

“What’s in the case, boss?”

Mr. Smith grins nonchalantly and says “Oh, nothing less than the sum of two million dollars in cash; all of it in $500 bills, to be precise.” GySgt Faulkner raises an eyebrow and nods her head slightly as she says “You’ve certainly got a gift for understatement, boss.”

“Yes I do, madam. Ahh, we’re here.” Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner pause momentarily before going inside the Ministry Building. It is a fourstory structure done in the grand style of Colonial Spain. It is a mark of this ministry’s importance that the building has an ornate façade of imported granite. The two enter the building, and Mr. Smith presents himself to the receptionist. He says “Good afternoon, Senorita Menendez. I am Mr. James Smith and I am here for my TwoO’clock appointment with Minister Sanchez.”

“Good morning, Senor Smith. One moment while I let the minister know you are here.” She get sup form her desk and knocks on a nearby door. The door opens and the receptionist goes inside. She returns a few moments later and says “Senor Smith, Minister Sanchez will see you now.”

“Thank you, Senorita. Miss Faulkner, if you please.” Mr. Smith enters the minister’s office, with GySgt Faulkner following close behind him. When the door closes, Mr. Smith sees the minister standing next to his desk; his left hand resting on an ornate cigar case. He says “Good morning, Minister Sanchez, thank you for taking the time to see me. I am Mr. James Smith, chairman and CEO of Smith Development Enterprises, and this lady is my administrative assistant Miss Faulkner.”

The two men shake hands as the Minister says “Good morning, Senor Smith, Senorita Faulkner. It is a pleasure to meet you. How can I be of assistance this fine day?”

Mr. Smith says “Minister Sanchez, I’ll get right to the point. Among my firm’s many business interests are leisure, travel, imports and exports. When the Volstead Act went into effect in the United States on January 17th, 1920, the domestic part of my business dealing with the importation and sale of liquor experienced a severe downturn.” Mr. Smith surreptitiously winks as he continues speaking “Nothing was said of my not being able to continue my business outside of the United States, however. I have become aware of the fact that the people of Mexico and the other countries in the region have developed quite a taste for Irish whiskey. I have recently contracted for a very significant percentage of that country’s whiskey production capacity.”

Minister Sanchez nods knowingly and says “Ahh, Senor Smith. I understand you completely. What is it that you need from me?”

“Minister, I need a large amount of warehouse space here in Havana. The idea is that liquor, wines and other spirits will be purchased and transshipped through Cuba for distribution to Mexico and points south. In fact, the first shipload will be here thirty days from now. If you are agreeable, I will contract with your ministry for a period of five years from today.”

“That will be acceptable, Senor Smith. Now, as to the costs?....”

“Ahh, yes. As consideration for this contract, I will pay you the sum of five hundred thousand dollars now. Furthermore, the continuing costs of the warehousing will be covered by a monthly payment of one hundred thousand dollars over the life of the contract.”

Minister Sanchez’ eyes widen in amazement as he comprehends the sums of money involved in this transaction. He hesitates not a moment before saying enthusiastically “Done. How will you arrange payment, by wire transfer, perhaps?”

Mr. Smith grins widely and says “In cash, of course.” He places his briefcase in his lap and opens it. Ten individual bundles of cash are slowly placed in front of Minister Sanchez. Each bundle has one hundred $500 bills, for a value of fifty thousand dollars per bundle. The bills are secured with a printed paper band bearing the seal of the First National Bank of Chicago.

“Senor Minister, I presume that you have some means of secure storage here in the Ministry.”

Minister Sanchez is so surprised at the amount of money sitting on his desk that he has to steady himself with both hands on his desk. Even so, he sits heavily in his chair and has to gather his thoughts before responding. When he is able to speak, Minister Sanchez says “You presume correctly, Senor Smith. The ministry has a vault where important documents and daily operating funds are kept.”

“That will be sufficient, Minister. I will leave it to your staff to place the money in your vault. In other matters, there is a favor I need from you.”

“What is that, Senor Smith?”

“I would esteem it a great favor if you were to arrange a meeting for me with President Machado. I would like the meeting to be as soon as possible.”

“It would be my pleasure, Senor Smith. Where can you be reached?”

“Senor Minister, my assistant Miss Smith and I are staying at the Hotel Santa Isabel. You can get in touch with us there.”

“Very good, Senor Smith. A member of my staff will send word to let you know when the appointment will be.”

“Thank you, Minister. You are most gracious.” Mr. Smith and Minister Sanchez shake hands, then he and GySgt Faulkner leave the Ministry building. Rather than hailing a taxi, Mr. Smith says “Gunny, I feel a need to take the air.” He bows theatrically and says “Walk with me, if you please.”

“It will be a pleasure, Boss.” Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner exchange predatory grins, as of a pair of lions sizing up their prey. Side by side, they walk down the streets near the Ministry headquarters. Nearby, certain unsavory individuals have taken notice of them and begun to follow at a somewhat discreet distance. A few minutes later, Mr. Smith says “Heads up, Gunny. We’ve got company.”

“Roger that, boss. I had them pegged as soon as we left the Ministry. Why those fumblefingered idiots would ever think that they could sneak up on someone like us is beyond me.”

Mr. Smith laughs malignantly and says “Wellsaid, Gunny. Stay sharp and follow my lead.”

“You got it, boss.” Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner turn off the main avenue they are walking along and head down a side street. There are upwards of a dozen men following them, divided into two equal groups. Most of them are armed with a motley assortment of knives and leadweighted clubs. Two of them have handguns and the leader has a sawedoff doublebarreled shotgun. One group moves to cut off the yanquis’ retreat off the side street, while the second group parallels the side street and gets into position to prevent further progress.

This part of the side street is deserted; Mr. Smith looks around and sees no witnesses. He thinks to himself ‘this is as good a place as any’, then says to GySgt Faulkner “Alright, Gunny. It’s showtime.”

Pedro the Silent, leader of the band of robbers walks up and sneers “Why, senor. All that money you are carrying must be very heavy. I’ll relieve you of that burden, and your puta also. If you make nice, we might let you live.” GySgt Faulker speaks fluent Spanish. When she hears what the gangleader called her, a tranquil fury begins to build in her mind. Mr. Smith sees this and gestures her to be still. He silently mouths the word “patience” as two of the robbers come forward to relive what they think is an arrogant yanqui of his money. When one of them is less than three feet away, Mr. Smith shouts “GOTCHA”. Both of his hands fly forward with blinding speed; the left hand fastens itself around the robber’s throat with a grip like a steel vise. The right hand grabs hold of the thug’s left hand and squeezes the wrist so hard that the bones crack under the pressure. The thug hardly has time to do more than scream in agony before Mr. Smith activates the electric discharge weapon built into his warsuit’s foreams.

Instantly, thousands of volts and hundreds of amps flood into the unfortunate thug’s body. His muscles spasm and clench uncontrollably as the energy overwhelms his body, raising the internal temperature to over 140 degrees. The unconscious and soontobe very dead thug is on the point of collapsing when Mr. Smith chuckles malignantly and starts to dance a little jig. He sings out “There’ll be a hot time in the old town, tonight....” The second robber empties his revolver into Mr. Smith’s chest with no apparent effect. He draws his knife and tries to stab the giant yanqui, while Pedro and his three companions try to rush forward and overwhelm Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith deactivates his electric discharge system and the first thug drops to the ground, quite dead. There are faint wisps of steam rising from the neck and the wrist, as of a piece of meat that had been roasted over an open fire. In perfect Spanish, Mr. Smith calls out in the most insulting and condescending way possible “Is that the best you got, you miserable bunch of no-good mamabichos? Hablar hasta por el culo!!!” These insults, so precisely and forcefully delivered, cause Pedro and his other men to fly into an unreasoning rage.

The thug with the knife draws his blade back to try and stab the yanqui, but is unable to. Mr. Smith grabs the hand holding the knife and pulls it so that the arm is dislocated. Simultaneously, the wrist is twisted so savagely so that it breaks. The thug collapses to the ground screaming in agony. Pedro’s two companions try to get around behind Mr. Smith. They go wide as their leader snarls “Alright, Culo. Play with this!!” The leader lowers his shotgun and fires both barrels simultaneously. Three ounces of buckshot strikes Mr. Smith in the chest. He bends over with a loud ‘OOF’ as if he is going to collapse with a giant gaping hole in his chest, but he doesn’t. He stands up, laughs evilly and says “Little boys shouldn’t play with guns, otherwise someone’s going to get hurt.”

The two robbers who were trying to attack Mr. Smith from behind suddenly decide that they have urgent business elsewhere. So, they run off screaming as if they are being pursued by the devil himself. Mr. Smith turns to Pedro and snarls “Lesson time, little man.” The erstwhile robber shrinks in mortal fear, tries to run but is unable to escape. Mr. Smith comes upon him, as relentless as an avalanche and just as deadly. He reaches out with a powerful right hand and fastens his ironhard fingers around the man’s throat. The remorseless pressure causes popping and squishing noises as cartilage is fractured and the larynx is crushed. As a final gesture of contempt, Mr. Smith rams Pedro’s head against a nearby wall so hard that the man’s skull is crushed like an egg thrown off a building.

Just ten feet behind Mr. Smith, GySgt Faulkner is busy dispatching her own half of the gang of robbers. Her fists and feet fly forth in a lethallyacrobatic ballet of death. Skulls are fractured, throats are crushed, spinal columns and collar bones are broken. In very short order, the seven robbers are on the ground; either dead or trying very hard get that way. Both Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are heaving with exertion. The bout of closecombat that they just engaged in seemed like it lasted an eternity, when in point of fact it took less than four minutes.

Mr. Smith catches his breath and observes the results of GySgt Faulkner’s handiwork. He says “That was smartly done, madam. You have my compliments.”

“Thanks, boss. This bunch of goddamned amateurs actually thought they could take us? What a joke!” GySgt Faulkner observes her business suit and looks over the one worn by Mr. Smith. She ruefully says “Uhh, boss. What are we going to do about our outfits? They’re kinda messed up.”

“I see that you mean, Gunny. I don’t think the Maitre’d of the hotel restaurant would appreciate us coming into his establishment wearing clothes that have been dyed a nice shade of arterial red. What say we hie ourselves back to our lodgings and change into something more suitable. I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up a mighty appetite.”

“Alright, boss. I’m down for that.”

Getting ready for a Meeting
Date: April 17th, 1928
Location: Hotel Santa Isabel
Time: 3:00 PM

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner have just returned to their lodgings after being dropped off by a local taxi. Instead of taking a direct route back to the hotel, Mr. Smith paid the taxi driver $50.00 to make the route as indirect and circuitous as possible. The intent here was to determine if they were being followed at all; they were not. They enter the hotel and find that the manager Alfredo Perez is on duty. Senor Perez is at his desk working on the hotel’s account books when he looks up and sees Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner come in; his face assumes a look of alarm as he sees their torn and bloody clothing.

“Senor Smith, Senorita Faulkner, are you quite alright? Have you been in an accident? Do you need medical attention?”

Mr. Smith waves his hand dismissively and says “Senor Perez, your concern is appreciated but unnecessary. Senorita Faulkner and I had just left the Ministry of Foreign Trade & Investment after our meeting with Minister Hector Sanchez. We were a few blocks away from the Ministry building when we were accosted by a gang of armed robbers. We defended ourselves accordingly; the blood is theirs, not ours. In the meantime, Senorita Faulkner and I are going to refresh ourselves. Please have the kitchen staff prepare a meal and send it up to our room. I’d also like a maid to come by and take our outfits away for disposal.”

Senor Perez replies “It will be my pleasure, Senor Smith. Is there anything else that you and Senorita Faulkner require at this time?”

“No, Senor Perez. That will be all for now.” Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner leave the front desk and return to their suite. They lay out fresh new outfits and retire to their separate bathrooms to shower off the blood and dust from their recent exertions. Mr. Smith finishes first and changes into another one of his Brooks Brothers suits, a threepiece charcoalgray ensemble featuring a vest and a longsleeve white shirt with a buttondown collar. GySgt Faulkner comes out of her own bathroom wearing a kneelength bathrobe with long sleeves. She is drying off her hair with a soft cotton towel when there is a discrete knock at the door. Mr. Smith says “Yes?”

“Maid service, Senor Smith. I’m here to remove your outfits for disposal, as you requested.” Mr. Smith opens the door and admits the young woman. Her name is Rosita, and she is clad in typical 1920’s maid attire, and is carrying two cloth bags to put the outfits in. Her face and form are of such fine proportions that that she would be a fit subject for a painting by a Renaissance master. While GySgt Faulkner continues to dry her hair, she smiles knowingly and rolls her eyes over the maid from head to foot. Rosita sees this and smiles back in a manner that is both coquettish and ‘come hither’. Before Rosita leaves the room with the bags of clothing, GySgt Faulkner winks at her.

Mr. Smith quietly observes this non-verbal by-play and grins. After Rosita leaves, he says “Yes, Gunny. I think so too.” Joanne says nothing, but has a smug, self-satisfied grin on her face.

“Gunny, after you get changed, there is some additional information regarding my background that I need to make you aware of.”

“Alright, Boss. I’ll be back in a trice.” Joanne picks up her new outfit and heads back to the bathroom to change. She comes back out a few minutes later, looking every inch the thorough professional. GySgt Faulkner sits at the table across from Mr. Smith and says “I’m all ears, boss.”

“Gunny, I previously told you that I was employed by a certain noted scientist as a bodyguard/chief of security. This individual created the time device that I now use. I didn’t tell you anything about him, however.. His name was Doctor Emmett Brown. Dr. Brown was one of the most brilliant men I ever knew, a polymath in the truest sense of the word. He would have been considered for Nobel prizes in several scientific fields of endeavor, but his theories were too outlandish for the scientific community at large. Dr. Brown didn’t take this at all well, so he withdrew from public life. He used his family’s wealth to set up a private laboratory in the mountains far outside Los Angeles, California. During this self-imposed exile, Dr. Brown was assisted by a former graduate student of his by the name of Martin McFly. McFly’s wife is Jennifer Parker; a real bad one, even by my standards. She’s the type who could dig a man’s eyeballs out of their sockets and suck them dry without so much as a second thought. Parker was employed by Dr. Brown to both strike back at those he thought had wronged him, and also to steal or otherwise acquire tech and materials that he couldn’t get ahold of.”

GySgt Faulkner says “Boss, that Parker character sounds like a whole bushel of bad apples.”

“Gunny, you don’t know the half of it. Jennifer Parker committed dozens of burglaries, arsons and armed robberies while working for Dr. Brown. She was also suspected of having committed at least three murders. Parker was never charged for any of her crimes because there was never enough evidence for an indictment. She settled down when she got pregnant.”

“What does this have to do with you, boss?”

“I’m getting to that, Gunny. Dr. Brown hired me as a bodyguard/enforcer/chief of security, then used his formidable scientific talents to greatly enhance my physical and mental capabilities. Mentally-speaking, Dr. Brown was never very stable; eighteen months after I started working for him, I found out that he had created a workable means for traveling in time. Brown saw this as a threat, then tried to have me killed. Needless to say, I paid him back in his own coin and stole all of Dr. Brown’s technology. I covered my tracks by engineering a gigantic fuel-air explosion that completely destroyed Brown’s laboratory and blew the rest of his complex into next week.”

“What about Brown’s assistant, Martin McFly? Is he a threat to us?”

“Gunny, McFly would have been killed too, except that he wasn’t at the laboratory that day. Jennifer Parker had gone into labor and was in the hospital. McFly was there with her when I blew up Dr. Brown’s complex. McFly is a smart guy, but not in my or in the late Dr. Brown’s league. He had back-up copies of some of Dr. Brown’s files that I know to be incomplete; for reasons of his own, Brown kept certain of his ideas in his mind and never committed them to paper or computer records. I wouldn’t put it past McFly to try and recreate Dr. Brown’s research and time technology. As regards to the threat posed by Martin McFly, I anticipated that he or someone else might possibly develop time travel technology. I didn’t want anyone else to rain on my parade, so I modified the time device’s central console to send a signal to my time remote whenever someone else is using the same kind of technology. McFly is unlikely to involve law enforcement even if he tries to come after me. He’s an accessory before and after the fact to his wife’s crimes.”

Mr. Smith pauses momentarily to collect his thoughts before continuing. He says “Gunny, I am giving you your own time remote, it is keyed to you personally, so that no one else can use it. Whenever we have to go back to our own 2090 for more supplies and equipment, we’ll have to be careful.”

“Thank you, Boss. Your gesture is much appreciated.”

“You are more than welcome, Gunny. Your remote has the same capabilities as my own. If you should happen to be wounded or killed, the remote is automatically set to snap you back to our home base in 2090. The staff there will render any aid or medical assistance necessary.”

GySgt Faulkner smiles and says “Well, that’s reassuring, Boss.”

“I thought you might regard it as such. In regards to the timeline we are in now, I call it Timeline Beta. It branched off from Timeline Alpha (the 2090 that we came from) when I first came back to 1928. When we went to 1920 to get ahold of the Russian Crown Jewels, it was the 1920 of Timeline Beta. You’ll recall the operating accounts I set up at various banks between 1785 and the 1850’s? Well, they were set up further back in the past of Timeline Beta. I was very careful to set them up so that their existence wouldn’t upset the future course of Beta. We can travel back and forth from one timeline to another as we need. However, we can’t go past the absolute now of 2090 in any timeline without going back to Timeline Alpha and just waiting there.”

While Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are talking, there is a knock on the door of their suite. Mr. Smith pauses and says loudly “YES?” The voice at the door replies “Hotel wait staff, Senor Smith. We have the meal you requested from the kitchen.”

“Do please come in.” Two smartly-dressed waiters come into the suite pushing two carts laden with fresh fruit, breads, cheeses and various dishes from the dinner menu. There is also an excellent bottle of champagne in an exquisite sterling silver bucket with some crushed ice.

“Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all.” Mr. Smith tips each of the waiters the sum of $50.00. They reply “Muchos gracias, Senor Smith” and leave the room.

“Alright Gunny, Let’s dig in. I’m rather famished from that little workout we had earlier.”

“Copy that, Boss-man.” GySgt Faulkner grins as she says “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Hail to the Chief
Date: April 17th, 1928
Location: Hotel Santa Isabel
Time: 4:00 PM

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner have just finished eating dinner when there is a call on the room telephone. He gets up from the table, picks up the receiver and says “Hello”.

The voice on the other end of the line is Senor Alfredo Perez “Good afternoon, Senor Smith. This is the hotel manager. I just received a call from the office of Minster Sanchez. He wishes to inform you that your appointment with President Machado is scheduled for 1:00 PM in the afternoon on April 19th. There will be a car sent from the President’s office to pick up both you and Senorita Faulkner at half past noon.”

“Muchos Gracias, Senor Perez. I and Senorita Faulkner will be ready.”

“De nada, Senor Smith.”

While Mr. Smith is talking to Senor Perez, the time device that Mr. Smith gave to GySgt Faulkner beeps softly three times in succession. This is a signal that there is an incoming transmission. GySgt Faulkner activates the time device’s communicator and says “Faulkner here, go ahead.” What follows is a few moments of voice communication. She says loudly “Aww, ****!!”, followed by “Received and understood. I’ll inform the boss immediately, stand by for instructions to come. Faulkner out.”

Mr. Smith comes back over to the table and says “What was that all about, Gunny?”

“Boss, we’ve got a problem. That Martin McFly you just told me about, he just became a serious threat.”

“What do you mean, Gunny?”

“Sir, one of your uptime crew is dead. Don Wilson, to be precise. He runs a string of high-class joy houses in Southern California.”

“Wait just one goddamned minute. Are you saying Don Wilson is dead? He was one of the first guys I recruited to join me after I offed Dr. Brown.” Mr. Smith exhales to calm himself, then says “Alright, Gunny. How did it happen?”

“Sir, McFly’s people kidnapped Don’s wife Kelly after she picked up their daughters from Brightman Day School out in Bernardino County. They were brought to Don’s house and used to pressure him into giving up the memory card that gave him access to the organization’s servers. After McFly got the card, he used some unknown energy weapon to splatter Don all over the wall of his den. The aftermath was like a bug on a windshield.”

Mr. Smith’s eyes widen in shock as he mumbles a few very choice obscenities. He swiftly recovers his self-control, assumes a look of cold, calculating professionalism and says “Gunny, send a message to all of my uptime assets, ‘Flash’ priority. Tell them that the security of the organization’s servers and datanet has been compromised. They are to execute the ‘Blank Slate’ protocol immediately. All passwords and security codes are to be changed immediately. The servers are to be shut down immediately, purged, formatted and re-formatted to wipe out all stored data, codes and communications frequencies. I also want security on critical infrastructure doubled, warehouses, supply dumps, weapons & equipment depots, etc. Lastly, if it is at all possible without further endangering personnel or assets, Martin McFly and that psychotic bitch of his are to be killed on sight.”

“Consider it done, Boss-man.”

These revelations cast a considerable pall over the next several hours. The first part of this time is occupied with how best to proceed when Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner meet with President Machado in two days. Having pushed back the trouble created by Martin McFly to the back of his mind, Mr. Smith says “Gunny, our main mission here in Cuba has been accomplished; this being to secure storage and transshipment rights for the product that is coming in from Ireland. What I propose to do in our meeting with President Machado is to be granted an exclusive license from him to operate casinos and resorts here in Cuba. You’ll please recall from our original history that, before the first Cuban Revolution in 1959, Cuba was a magnet for tourists from the United States. There were regularly-scheduled flights, and the casinos, hotels and other ‘entertainment’ venues were overflowing with business. The Five Families in New York and other OC groups elsewhere made hundreds of millions of dollars every year from the trade. This is going to be pre-empted, so that all of the revenue which would have gone elsewhere will now flow into the coffers of Smith Development Enterprises.”

GySgt Faulkner replies “You never cease to amaze me, sir. You secured control of the future gaming industry in Las Vegas for Al Capone and the Chicago Outfit and now, you will have Cuba all to yourself. This is in addition to the Boulder Dam project and all the cash that’s going to be flowing from that particular spigot. Once more, my hat is off to you, Boss.”

“Precisely, madam. This is only the beginning.”

GySgt Faulkner nods appreciatively and says “Sir, do you have any need of me for the next several hours? I have a ‘personal’ appointment to attend to.”

Mr. Smith grins wickedly and says “I think I can get along without you for a while, gunny. Would this, ahh, ‘appointment’ of yours be with that maid who was here earlier?”

GySgt Faulkner laughs uproariously and says ‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, boss.” Mr. Smith nods and says “Off you go, then.”

“Thank you, sir.” GySgt Faulkner leaves the suite and heads down to the first floor of the hotel where the staff living quarters are located. She goes to a particular door, knocks and says “Are you there, Rosita? It’s Joanne.” Rosita opens the door slightly to see how it is and says “Senorita Faulkner. I’m so glad you came to see me; I was beginning to think you weren’t interested. Please come in.”

GySgt Faulkner accepts Rosita’s invitation and enters. The door closes and locks behind her. A few moments more has her eyes accustomed to the semi-darkness. There is an electric light dangling from the ceiling, but it is out. There are a few candles lit here and there. The walls of the room are decorated with a couple of pictures, and there is a pitcher on the table with a bunch of fresh-cut flowers. The room has but one window that looks out on the hotel’s courtyard; the window is open, but the curtains are drawn. Just now, there is a hint of ocean breeze that sets the curtains to waving gently in the window.

GySgt Faulkner reaches out and gently takes Rosita’s chin in her right hand. She says in a low, husky voice “And now, milady, Let us indulge#....”

Time: 11:30 PM

Some hours later, GySgt Faulkner returns to the suite she shares with Mr. Smith. There is a look of self-satisfaction on her face, and her smile is so wide that it seems like the corners of her mouth could meet in the back of her head. Mr. Smith says “Welcome back, Gunny. I trust your ‘appointment’ went as well as it could be expected.”

“It did, sir.”

Mr. Smith smiles and says “We’ve had a long day, what with meeting with the Minister and laying a world of hurt on that gang of robbers. I suggest we retire and get some sleep. We’ll want to be fullyrelaxed when we meet with President Machado. I bid you a fair good night, Gunny.”

“Good night, sir.”

An Appointment with the President
Date: April 19th, 1928
Location: State Council Building, Havana, Cuba.
Time: 1:00 PM

Ever since the founding of the Republic of Cuba in 1902, the office of the President of Cuba has been located in this building in the center of Havana. It is to this building that the government staff car brings Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner. The time between April 17th and now has been occupied in preparing for this meeting and getting ready for the trip back to Chicago. At 1:00 PM precisely, a secretary comes out into the main hallway of the building and says “Senor Smith, Senorita Faulkner, His excellency President Machado will see you now.”

Mr. Smith nods and picks up his briefcase. He and GySgt Faulkner are conducted into the President’s office, then the secretary departs. President Machado is seated at his polished mahogany desk. He is a distinguished-looking gentleman of average height, and is wearing an immaculately-tailored business suit. Mr. Smith says “Good afternoon, Senor Presidente. It is an honor to finally meet you. Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

President Machado says “The pleasure is all mine, Senor Smith. I trust that your stay in our beautiful country has been pleasant enough.”

“It has, Senor Presidente. Please allow me to formally introduce myself. I am James Smith, Chairman and CEO of Smith Development Enterprises. This good lady here beside me is Senorita Joanne Faulkner. She is my executive assistant.”

“Greetings, Senorita Faulkner. A pleasure it is to meet you this fine day” GySgt Faulkner nods her head by way of acknowledgement and says “Thank you for your courtesy, Senor Presidente.”

“And now, to the matter at hand. Senor Smith, Minister Sanchez tells me of the deal that you concluded with the Ministry of Foreign Trade & Investment. You show good business sense, Senor Smith.”

“Thank you, Senor Presidente. The operations of my firm as regards the importation and sale of spirituous liquors were severely impacted by the Volstead Act which the Government of the United States so unwisely adopted in 1920. That law doesn’t apply to my operations outside of the U.S, however. The people of Mexico and points south have developed quite a taste for Irish Whiskey. So, my deal with Minister Sanchez will allow me to purchase product elsewhere and store it here in Cuba. Arrangements are in place for shipping it to Mexico and other countries.”

Mr. Smith pauses briefly before continuing. He says “Senor Presidente, I now come to why I requested to see you. Cuba is on eof the most beautiful countries in the entire Caribbean area. The people are warm and friendly, and the climate is highly conducive for leisure and relaxation. My firm is poised to greatly accelerate the economic development of your country by encouraging travel and tourism from the United States and other countries. To facilitate this, I respectfully request that your office issue an exclusive license to operate hotels, casinos and other entertainment venues in your country. In a somewhatrelated matter Senor Presidente, I know that the entire budget for the Government of the Republica de Cuba for the fiscal year just past amounted to the equivalent of just under ten million dollars in U.S currency. In recompense for the license I am requesting, I will pay to Your Excellency the sum of one million dollars. Plus, there will be a monthly payment by Smith Development Enterprises to the Cuban State Treasury. The amount of this payment will be one-quarter of the gross receipts of my hotel, casino and other entertainment venues.”

President Machado smiles expansively and says “That is a mostgenerous offer, Senor Smith. I am favorably-inclined to grant your request.”

“Thank you, Senor Presidente. I thought you would say so. While we are on the subject, please accept this small gift as a token of my esteem.” Mr. Smith gestures to GySgt Faulkner and she places an ornate wooden case on President Machado’s desk. He opens the desk and says “Senor Presidente, this candlestick phone is patterned after the commercial models produced by the Western Electric Company in the United States. It is fullyfunctional and is made of solid gold.” Mr. Smith extracts the phone from its fitted case and gives it to President Machado. He says “Do please be careful, Senor Presidente. That phone weighs more than 15 lbs.”

President Machado nods and picks up the phone with both hands. He holds it up to the light and turns it this way and that way to get a better look at it. The phone’s exquisite workmanship is plainly obvious. The phone is returned to the case, whereupon President Machado says “Senor Smith, you have convinced me. By my authority as Presidente of the Republica de Cuba, I hereby grant your request. You are therefore issued an exclusive license to build, open and operate hotels, casinos and other entertainment venues here in the Republic; subject of course to the payment as previously offered by yourself. As regards the payment of one million dollars, how will it be arranged, Senor Smith?”

“In person, Senor Presidente. I have here with me the sum of one million dollars in cash, in $1,000 bills, to be precise. I will pay it over to you right here and right now.” Of all the ways that Mr. Smith could have impressed the President of Cuba, nothing has quite the visual impact as the sum of one million dollars in neatly-bundled $1,000 bills being placed on President Machado’s desk. The President’s jaw hangs slightly open in mute amazement. Then, he collects himself and says “Senor Smith, I see that you are a man of deeds and not words. It is a pleasure to do business with you. I will set my secretary to work in drawing up the agreement between my government and your firm. We will sign the document and I will impress the Great seal of the Republica de Cuba upon it. Our agreement will be in force from then on.”

“Thank you, Senor Presidente.”

“You are quite welcome, Senor Smith. In the meantime, is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes there is, Senor Presidente. As of now, a new hotel is being constructed in the Vedado area of downtown Havana. This facility will be named the Hotel Nacional de Cuba. The consortium of businessmen who are building the hotel are in need of additional financing, which at this time, they are having trouble in finding. I would greatly appreciate a word from you letting them know that I will provide five hundred thousand dollars in cash in exchange for a 40% ownership stake in the hotel. My firm will establish a casino therein, which will be under my exclusive control.”

“Very good, Senor Smith. I will so inform them.”

“Thank you, Senor Presidente. I have an additional five hundred thousand dollars in cash with me. I will tender it to your office for safekeeping until such time as it can be paid to the consortium building the hotel.” Mr. Smith removes the last of the cash from his briefcase, this in the form of bundled $500 bills, and places it on the President’s desk.

Mr. Smith nods his head as a gesture of respect towards President Machado. The two gentlemen shake hands and then he and GySgt Faulkner leave the President’s office.

Robbery on the High Seas, Part 1
Date: April 23rd, 1928
Location: the Port of New York & New Jersey
Time: 1:30 PM

After concluding their business with President Machado, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner returned to their quarters at the Hotel Santa Isabel and prepared to return to the United States. Rather than heading back to Chicago, they board a short flight to Miami Beach. From here, they booked passage on an Atlantic Line passenger train which departed from Miami Beach on April 22nd at 5:30 PM and arrived in New York City on April 23rd at 11:00 AM. As soon as Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner arrive in New York City, they collect their bags and make their way to the New Jersey side of the Port of New York & New Jersey. There, moored at a secluded pier in the Port Newark Marine Terminal is a non-descript vessel bearing the innocuous name ‘SS Glomar Explorer’. Outwardly, this vessel exactly resembles anyone of the hundreds of cargo steamships plying the oceans of the world in 1928. Below decks, however, the Explorer is far different.

The SS Glomar Explorer is specifically designed for the purpose of recovering valuable cargoes lost at sea. As such, she is fitted with hidden facilities for the launch and recovery of manned submersibles and hovercraft. The only equipment visible on deck is what would be carried by a cargo vessel of the 1920’s. The ship is fitted with a pair of smokestacks that are non-functional, except for smoke generators which give the impression that SS Glomar Explorer is oil-fueled. In fact, she has diesel-electric propulsion.

At 1:30 PM, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner climb the ship’s gangway and make their way to the ship’s bridge. There, they are greeted by SS Glomar Explorer’s commanding officer Captain Edward ‘Teach’ Roberts. He says “Good afternoon, Teach. Are we ready to go?” Captain Roberts replies “Yes sir, Mr. Smith. We’re ready to go. The strike teams came aboard late last night. For security reasons, I have ordered them to stay below deck until we are out at sea. I didn’t want to risk the possibility of someone catching a glimpse of them and starting to ask questions we don’t want answered.”

“That is a sensible precaution, Teach. When will we get under way?”

“Mr. Smith, I have already called the Harbormaster’s office. A harbor tug is coming alongside even as we speak. We’ll make ourselves fast to the tug, then she’ll tow us from Newark Bay, through Kill Van Kull and out into Upper New York Bay. We’ll slip our lines and be under our own power from there.” Captain Edwards sees the tall woman standing next to Mr. Smith and looks to him with a questioning glance in his eyes. He says “Might I ask who the woman is, Boss?”

“Ahh, forgive me for being somewhat remiss in my introductions, Teach. This lady is Joanne Faulkner, formerly of the United States Marine Corps and now, my newest business associate. She’s my bodyguard and all-around designated hitter. You and the crew will consider anything she says as having come directly from me.”

“Copy, that, boss-man” Outside, the harbor tug blows her steam whistle to signal that she has come alongside. In short order, SS Glomar Explorer’s deckhands pass mooring lines between their vessel and the tug. These, in turn, are made fast by the tug’s crew. Captain Edwards looks out the bridge windows and receives a ‘thumbs-up’ signal from the deck boss that all is in readiness. The harbor tug’s engines foam the water between her stern and the Glomar Explorer’s bow. The thick tow cables groan slightly as tension is put upon them; the two ships move slowly out into Newark and towards Kill Van Kull.

Kill Van Kull is three miles long and approximately 1,000’ wide at its widest point. It is a tidal strait separating Staten Island, New York and Bayonne, New Jersey. Kill Van Kull is the only access to Newark Bay. As such, it is an extremely busy waterway. The maritime traffic is such that the harbor tug has to slow to a crawl as she is towing SS Glomar Explorer. Three hours after the two ships left Port Newark Marine terminal, they pass just south of Robbins Reef Light and enter Upper New York Bay. The tugboat crew unships the towlines fastening her to SS Glomar Explorer, then the Explorer’s deck crew hauls them in.

Captain Roberts orders “Make revolutions for five knots.” The ship’s executive officer James ‘Jack’ Rackham repeats the order “Make revolutions for five knots, Aye” and communicates it to the engine room via the ship’s telegraph. Next he calls out “Helm, steer us through the Narrows into Lower New York Bay and out into the Atlantic. Once we get there, best possible course and speed for the Panama Canal.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Teach, once we’re out in the Atlantic away from land, the strike teams can come up on deck. For now, please join me and GySgt Faulkner in the ship’s conference room. I’ll give you our objective then.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Smith.” Captain Roberts hands over the bridge to the XO Jack Rackham and says “James, you have the bridge until I return.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Captain Roberts leaves the bridge and goes with Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner to the ship’s conference room. All three take their seats and Mr. Smith begins his presentation.

“Teach, once we get through the Panama Canal, we’re headed to the waters off the southern tip of the Korean Peninsula. Our objective is the Straits of Tsushima, between the island of Honshu and the Korean Peninsula. The specific location is 34# degrees 33.977 minutes North by 130 degrees 9.056 minutes East. At this location, the Battle of Tsushima was fought between The Russian Baltic Fleet and the Japanese Combined Fleet between May 27th and May 28th, 1905. Earlier on 27 May, the Russian armored cruiser Admiral Nakhimov was the eighth and last ship in the main Russian line and had been hit thirty separate times by shellfire from Japanese cruisers; her ship’s complement suffered 25 KIA and 51 WIA. Sometime between 2130 and 2200 hours that evening, she was struck in the bow by a torpedo fired from an unknown Japanese torpedo boat. The ship’s crew tried to save her, but were unsuccessful. They abandoned ship early in the morning of 28 May, near the Island of Tsushima proper. The ship sank at 1000 hours; the precise location being 34#degrees 34 minutes North by 129 degrees 32 minutes East.

“Mr. Smith, when I was at Annapolis, the account of the Battle of Tsushima was required reading for all cadets. I am quite familiar with it. Why do you have such an interest in a old second-line vessel like the Admiral Nakhimov?”

“Teach, my interest in that ship is purely financial, not historical. For reasons known only to the Russian government at the time, they sold a great deal of foreign bonds and converted the proceeds to precious metals, namely gold sovereigns, gold bullion and platinum bullion. The treasure was loaded aboard the Admiral Nakhimov and she was ordered to sail back to St. Petersburg to offload her cargo. Before she could set sail, Admiral Nakhimov was ordered to join the Russian Baltic Fleet; this is why she was the eighth (and last) ship in the main Russian line. The treasure consists of 5,500 locked iron strongboxes, each containing 5,000 British gold sovereigns, 30 platinum bars and 48 gold bars; each bar weighs 3 lbs. The boxes are stored in the ship’s main hold on the third deck, aft of the ship’s funnel and forward of the after 8” gun mount. In total, there are 27,500,000 gold sovereigns, 247.5 tons of platinum and 396 tons of gold.”

Captain Edwards whistles loudly in appreciation as Mr. Smith says “Teach, in our original time, the Admiral Nakhimov was the single most valuable shipwreck in all of human history. Now you know why I want that ship so badly, and why we had to maintain such secrecy.”
GySgt Faulkner raises her hand and asks “What’s the plan, boss?”

Mr. Smith replies “Once we get to the location where the Admiral Nakhimov was hit by that torpedo, we’ll use SS Glomar Explorer’s time device to travel back in time to 2330 Hours on the night of May 27th, 1905. We’ll use our equipment to jam the ship’s wireless telegraph, then come alongside and board her. Our strike teams will board the Admiral Nakhimov, kill the crew and secure the ship. The treasure will be offloaded onto SS Glomar Explorer by using the Admiral Nakhimov’s own crane. Lastly, we’ll set scuttling charges in her magazines and on her fuel bunkers; the charges will be set to go off just before 1000 hours on the morning of May 28th.”

Captain Edwards’ face registers amazement as he comprehends the full import of the mission. He says “Mr. Smith, you can count on me. The boys and I won’t let you down.”

“Thank you, Teach.” Captain Edwards excuses himself so that he can return to the bridge. When Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are along she says “Boss, this little caper makes everything you have done before now pale into utter and complete insignificance. I was beginning to think that there were no more ways for you to surprise me. Bravo!!” GySgt Faulkner claps her hands several times to express her approval at so bold an endeavor.

“Gunny, when we’re done with this job, you and I and the rest of the boys are going to have a drink. I’ve got a couple cases of champagne that are two hundred years old; just the thing to celebrate our success.”

“Boss, I will most gladly assist you and the others in draining a few bottles#.”

Robbery on the High Seas, Part 2
Date: April 28th, 1928
Location: off the coast of Panama, near the City of Colon
Time: 3:00 PM

The voyage of the SS Glomar Explorer from the Port of New York & New Jersey to Panama has proceeded without incident. After steering through the Narrows and across Lower New York Bay, Captain Roberts stood the SS Glomar Explorer out to sea and steered a southwesterly course along the Atlantic Coast of the United States. The ship passed through the Straits of Florida, into the Gulf of Mexico, west of Cuba and across the Caribbean Sea. She arrived off the coast of Panama near the City of Colon at 3:00 PM local time; her speed during the voyage was an average of 15 knots.

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner join Captain Roberts just as he is using the ship’s radiotelegraph to communicate with Colon’s harbormaster to arrange for passage through the Canal. Mr. Smith asks “Teach, our trip has gone very well so far. When are we scheduled to make our transit through the Canal?”

“Boss, the harbormaster in Colon has given us clearance to enter Limon Bay. He’ll be sending a canal tug out to meet us in just one hour. We’re fortunate in that the last of the vessels in the afternoon queue of shipping just entered the Gatun Locks.”

“That’s good news, Teach. What’s the passage fee going to cost us?”

“Boss, the fees for transiting the Panama Canal are based on the displacement of the ship. SS Glomar Explorer’s displacement is 19,670 tons, so our passage shouldn’t cost any more than $5,000 or so. As Captain of the ship, I’ll be paying the fee out of the Explorer’s operating funds as soon as the canal tug ties up alongside.”

“Alright, Teach. Proceed as you think best.” Captain Edwards returns to the bridge, while Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner walk out onto the starboard bridge wing. He says “How are the boys doing, Gunny?”

“Boss, you’ve got a good crew here. They were allowed on deck after we exited Lower New York Bay; ever since then, I’ve been familiarizing them with the plans and schematics of the Admiral Nakhimov that you provided. Per your instructions, we’ve been doing CQB drills twice per day. From what you told me of the Admiral Nakhimov’s original history, her crew is going to be busy trying to save their ship. I don’t know how much resistance they are likely to mount, so I thought it best to be prepared for all contingencies.”

“That was very forwardthinking of you, Gunny; you have my compliments. There will be plenty of time for more drills after we transit the Canal. The distance from Panama City to Pusan, South Korea is just over 8,000 sea miles. If we maintain a speed of 20 knots, I estimate our travel time at 17 days. We should arrive on or about May 15th. When we arrive, we’ll wait until after dark to activate the time displacement system. When the Explorer arrives back on May 27th, 1905, we’ll stand off at a safe distance and send up one of the ship’s UAVs to observe the Battle of Tsushima unfolding. As soon as the Admiral Nakhimov takes that torpedo hit on the night of May 27th, we’ll move in as previously planned.”

“Sounds good, Boss.

Robbery on the High Seas, Part 3
Date: May 15th, 1928
Location: the Yellow Sea, 5 miles West-Northwest of the Island of Cheju-Do, South Korea
Time: 5:00 PM

The voyage from Panama to South Korea took 17 days, just as Mr. Smith estimated. Along the way, SS Glomar Explorer had to alter course in order to avoid being seen by other shipping. Ordinarily, these course changes would have slowed her progress. However, her effective forward speed was aided by favorable winds which were abaft for much of the trip across the Atlantic Ocean.

Captain Roberts orders his XO Jack Rackham “Stop all Engines. Engage thrusters, thrusters to station-keeping.”, which orders are swiftly communicated to SS Glomar Explorer’s engine room. Very swiftly, the ship’s engines stop turning and her forward progress slows and finally ceases. The thrusters built into the ship’s bow and stern below the waterline come to life and keep the ship from drifting in any direction. Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are on hand in anticipation of the transition event. Captain Roberts says “We’re on-station, Mr. Smith. Standing by for your orders.”

“Very good, Teach.” Mr. Smith gets in the ship’s communicator and calls the personnel at the controls of the time device, located in the central hold three decks below the bridge. He says “Control, this is Smith. Prepare to engage on my mark, temporal coordinates are as specified. Five#….Four….Three….Two….One….MARK!!!”

The time device activates, drawing power from its reactors. This energy is enhanced by the contents of the device’s energy banks. It takes several seconds to warm up; at the end of this brief period, an energy field builds up which instantly permeates every part of the ship and her crew. This temporal displacement field causes the SS Glomar Explorer to fade from existence in the ‘now’ of May 15th, 1928 and set sail upon the oceans of eternity. The transition happens almost between time, so that the passage of subjective time is almost un-noticeable. All that the ship’s complement perceives is a bright flash of light in the optic centers of their brains.

Outside the SS Glomar Explorer, the effects are entirely different. The ship’s disappearance is so sudden that there is a void in the air and water where she was formerly located. Instantly, the air and ocean water rush inwards to fill the void. If anyone were nearby, they would hear a great, booming peal of thunder echoing across the water. The vast amounts of static electricity generated by the transference effect have nowhere to go but outwards because the ship is shielded from the environment by the transference field. This energy manifests itself as enormous lightning bolts which strike in random directions from where the SS Glomar Explorer once was.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 5:14 pm 
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I'm surprised Mr. Smith hadn't killed McFly and his wife as a precaution.

Faugh a Ballagh

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 8:16 pm 

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jemhouston wrote:
I'm surprised Mr. Smith hadn't killed McFly and his wife as a precaution.

By the time Mr. Smith was in a position to do just that, it would have been neither tactically or strategically sound for him to do so.

Instead, he has a agreement with those two. They don't bother him and he doesn't bother them (in the form of busting a Mark 17 over the Los Angeles Underhub.

There's a little dust-up called World War 2, due to break out in a little over three years (the current year in Crime Time is 1936). Everything that Mr. Smith is doing is in preparation for this.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 29, 2015 2:00 pm 

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Chapter Five

Robbery on the High Seas, Part 4
Date: May 27th, 1905
Location: the Yellow Sea, 5 miles WestNorthwest of the Island of ChejuDo, South Korea
Time: 7:00 PM

The SS Glomar Explorer comes back into existence at the exact same geographic location from which is disappeared on May 15th, 1928. The transition effect gradually displaces both the air and water; the physical effects are the same as those which accompanied the ship’s disappearance, but are less pronounced. In the span of only 23 seconds, the senses of everyone aboard the SS Glomar Explorer return to normal.

Captain Roberts calls out over the ship’s PA system “Attention all hands, this is the Captain. I want a status report from all departments.” Mr. Smith says “Teach, as soon as all departments have reported in, I want one of the GhostEagle5 UAVs airborne. We need to get a picture of where the Russian Baltic Fleet and the Japanese Combined fleet are located and what they are doing.”

“Right, Boss.”

Within 15 minutes, all departments aboard SS Glomar Explorer have reported that they are all at nominal status and that there are no injuries among the crew. Captain Roberts next orders the UAV crew to their stations so that the machine can be readied for flight. Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner join the two pilots in the ground control station just aft of the bridge. The Ghost Eagle5 is made ready for flight, and it quietly lifts off from the after deck of the ship. In less than ten minutes, the UAV is at its designated cruising altitude of 12,000’. Its instruments are of such accuracy and precision that making out individual facial features at this altitude is quite easy.

With Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner looking on, the GhostEagle5 is vectored northeast from the SS Glomar’s position towards the Tsushima Straits. The two fleets are already heavily engaged, with Russian battleships and cruisers exchanging gunfire with their Japanese counterparts at distances varying between 6,0009.000 yards. Mr. Smith says “Alright, guys. Locate the Admiral Nakhimov using the information I provided and keep track of her movements.” The senior UAV pilot replies “Yes sir, Mr. Smith.” Under the expert hands and watchful eyes of the two pilots, the UAV’s sensors are quickly able to locate the Admiral Nakhimov. She is holding station with the Second Pacific Squadron at the rear of the main Russian line.

On the main view screen, Mr. Smith sees that the Admiral Nakhimov is tacking this way and that way as she answers Japanese shellfire with her own 8” main battery. Over the course of the action, she is observed to be struck thirty times buy shells from various Japanese armored cruisers. Mr. Smith says to GySgt Faulkner “Gunny, so far the Battle of Tsushima has proceeded exactly as historical records said it did.” She replies “Right, bossman”, then exclaims loudly as a particularlyvicious hit from a Japanese shell that caromed off the roof of the #2 8” gun turret and exploded directly below the Admiral Nakhimov’s bridge. The UAV’s sensors capture the detonation in graphic detail as pieces of redhot steel and flaming bodies go flying in every direction.

At 8:00 PM, the penultimate act of the Battle of Tsushima takes place. 21 destroyers and 37 torpedo boats are sent against the Russian fleet by order of Admiral Togo Heihachiro, the Japanese commander. Over the next three hours, these vessels harry the remaining Russian ships to such an extent that their formation breaks up and tries to disperse northwards. At 10:00 PM, Mr. Smith sees just what he and the crew of the SS Glomar Explorer have been waiting for. An unknown Japanese torpedo boat strikes the Admiral Nakhimov in the bow with one of her torpedoes. The Russian vessel is heavily damaged and immediately looses headway. Her crew begins emergency repairs, not knowing what is about to happen to them.

Mr. Smith says “GySgt Faulkner, Captain Roberts, it’s showtime!!” He says “Teach, raise the Russian naval ensign on our masthead. I don’t want the crew of the Admiral Nakhimov knowing who we are until it is too late. Also, activate the jamming equipment so that no one in the area can send or receive message by radiotelegraph. Take us alongside, if you please.”

“Copy that, Boss.” Captain Roberts hastens to carry out his instructions as Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner join the boarding party on deck. Mr. Smith says “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. This is it. Do everything by the numbers and we’ll be alright. Equipment checks, now!” Mr. Smith, Gunny Faulkner and every other member of the boarding party checks their equipment to see that everything is in its proper place and that nothing is missing. Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are wearing their warsuits and carrying their personal weapons, while the other members of the boarding party are wearing standardissue Level V body armor and helmets. For weapons, half of them are carrying CP150 submachineguns and the other half are carrying ‘Mjolnir’ automatic rifle/shotgun combinations. Additionally, everyone has four flashbang and four fragmentation grenades; selected members of the boarding party are equipped with breaching kits (consisting of thermal lances and shapedcharge cutting explosives.

The SS Glomar Explorer pulls alongside the Admiral Nakhimov and is spotted by a surviving member of her bridge crew. He sweeps a surviving searchlight over the approaching vessel and spots the Russian Ensign flying from the masthead. He calls out “Ahoy there. What ship are you?” Captain Roberts uses a megaphone and says in perfectlyaccented Russian “This is the SS Petr Veliky, outbound from Vladivostok. We took shelter in the lee of Chejo Island to avoid being noticed by the Japanese. You have suffered severe damage, may we come aboard and render assistance?”

The bridge officer replies in the affirmative, and so the apparently‘Russian’ ship comes alongside. She is made fast, and in the chaos and confusion of battle, no one on board the Admiral Nakhimov notices that their ‘rescuer’ isn’t what she seems.

Action Stations!!
Date: May 27th, 1905
Location: aboard the Russian Armored Cruiser ‘Admiral Nakhimov’
Time: 10:30 PM

The crew of the Admiral Nakhimov have had a very bad day. Not only have they been badly handled by Japanese shellfire, they also took a torpedo to the bow that caused them to lose headway and stop dead in the water. Captain Rodionov immediately ordered damage control parties to assemble and make for the most heavilydamaged parts of his ship to put out the fires and shore up bulkheads to prevent the ship from taking on any more water. He orders his communications officer Lt. Cmdr Rogachev “Send a message to the fleet flagship. Inform them we have been hit in the bow by a torpedo. We are stopped and are taking on some water. Damage control efforts proceding.”

Lt. Cmdr Rogachev begins tapping out the message on the keys of the ship’s radiotelegraph set, a message that will never get to where it is intended. The ship’s executive officer Cmdr Vasiliy Petrovich happens to be on the starboard bridge wing while this is going on. He is sweeping a searchlight back and forth to see if there are any Japanese ships left in the immediate area. Commander Petrovich spots a huge vessel flying the Russian naval ensign from her masthead. He alerts Captain Rodionov, then calls out “Ahoy there, what ship are you?” The reply is “This is the SS Petr Veliky, outbound from Vladivostok. We took shelter in the lee of Chejo Island to avoid being noticed by the Japanese. You have suffered severe damage, may we come aboard and render assistance?”

Commander Petrovich says “Any help you can give us will be most welcome, SS Petr Veliky”. He puts down his megaphone and says “Captain, we’re# saved.” Captain Rodionov replies “Assemble a deck detail from among those members of the crew not already occupied with damage control efforts. If any of the SS Petr Veliky’s officers are with the rescue party, bring them here to me immediately.”

“Aye, Captain.” Cmdr Petrovich carries out his orders with dispatch and assembles a work party of sailors from the Admiral Nakhimov’s deck division. They are on hand to greet their supposed rescuers. In point of fact, these are the last thoughts they will ever have. Suddenly and without warning, dozens of masked and helmeted men bearing strange weapons come swarming over the railings.

Mr. Smith gives the signal and calls out “AWAY BOARDERS!!!” He, GySgt Faulkner and the leaders of the strike groups rise up and lead their men over the railings and onto the deck of the Admiral Nakhimov. The first Russian to be killed is the officer in charge of the deck detail. He takes a largecaliber explosive bullet to the face from Mr. Smith’s weapon. The Russian’s head shatters in a spray of bone fragments and brain matter; the body collapses to the steel deck with a sodden thump. Before the shocked Russian sailors can attempt to flee, they are swiftly cut down by deadlyaccurate bursts of submachinegun fire.

Aboard the bridge, Captain Rodionov’s feelings of elation at the apparent rescue of his ship and crew are horribly dashed as he sees strange men come onto his deck and shoot down his men with gunfire. He hesitates not a moment before ordering Lt. Cmdr Rogachev to send a message to the fleet flagship telling that the Admiral Nakhimov is under attack and that they have been boarded. Next, he gets on the ship’s public address system and says “Attention all hands. This is the Captain. We have been boarded by hostile enemy forces. Break open the small arms and prepare to resist. FOR THE RODINA!!!” All over the ship, Russian sailors spring into action as small arms lockers are opened and weapons passed out among them.

On the Admiral Nakhimov’s weather deck, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner each take command of half the boarding party. Each half sweeps the ship’s upper works from stem to stern and to the ship. The Russian sailors put up a spirited defense of their vessel, but to no avail. Russian marksmanship is excellent, and their bullets strike their targets deadcenter. There is no effect because of the armor that the strike teams are wearing. At times, the fighting is at very close quarters and is quite brutal; bayonets, boarding axes, boarding pikes and improvised clubs are all employed. Some of Mr. Smith’s men are downed with wounds to the extremities, others suffer fractured collar bones and broken arms from being clubbed. In every case, the Russian sailors do not survive the encounter. At times, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner have to resort to using the great strength of their warsuits; skulls are fractured, faces pulped, arms are broken or dislocated.

Once resistance on deck has collapsed, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner pause momentarily before proceeding with the next phase of the operation. He says “Gunny, take your men belowdeck and secure the magazines. I don’t want these idiots to scuttle the ship before we have a chance to make our ‘withdrawl’. Once the magazines are secure, sweep every compartment from stem to stern. If you run into concentrated pockets of resistance, you may deal with them by throwing grenades or just welding shut the door to that compartment. When the sailors below deck have been dealt with, get to the ship’s main hold; our objective is located there.”

GySgt Faulkner grins professionally and says “Copy that, Bossman. What are you going to do?”

“Gunny, I and the other half of the boys are going to take the ship’s upper works. Any significant resistance is likely to be focused on the ship’s bridge. Now, off you go.” GySgt Faulkner and her men head below deck and methodically sweep through every passage and compartment form the ship’s bow all the way to the stern. Everyone they encounter is exterminated with as little regard as possible. The stiffest resistance is encountered before the Admiral Nakhimov’s #2 main magazine and around the ship’s hold below the main deck after of the bridge. In the case of the magazine, three sailors are trying to fire the contents and blow up the ship. They are defended by about twenty of their fellows, all armed with rifles and pistols. Just before the door to the charge room is opened, GySgt Faulkner tosses a flashbang grenade which temporarily blinds and stuns the Russian sailors. They are quickly finished off with blasts of automatic shotgun fire. To prevent this from happening again, GySgt Faulkner stations a detail of three men here, and sends details of three men each to the other magazines. She and the other members of her half of the raiding party make their way to the Admiral Nakhimov’s main hold. Here lies the great treasure which was taken aboard weeks ago. Here, there are perhaps thirty sailors, all heavilyarmed and stronglybarricaded. The Russians respond to the advance of GySgt Faulkner’s men with a fusillade of rifle and pistol fire; three of Faulkner’s men are downed with wounds to the legs and arms. She and her men return fire with little effect; the position that the Russians have affords excellent cover and concealment.

GySgt Faulkner is angered by these casualties, so she shouts “GRENADES!!” Pins are pulled, and a combination of flashbang and HE frags are tossed over the Russian barricade. There is a mad scramble eon the other side to try and throw them back, but they all explode within mere moments of each other. In the resulting chaos, GySgt Faulkner and her men rush the barricade and finish off any surviving Russians with SMG fire.

Three decks above, Russian resistance is whittled down until there are only thirty men left; Captain Rodinov, Lt. Cmdr Rogachev, five midshipmen and 23 other sailors of various ranks. Lt Cmdr Rogachev looks at Captain Rodinov fearfully and says “Sir, despite our best efforts, these strangers have gone through our men like Baba Yaga chewing her way through a village of peasants. We’re severely outgunned and we are surrounded. What will we do?”

Captain Rodionov nods his head sadly and says “Rogachev, whoever these people are, they don’t seem like the ones to accept a surrender. I think they mean to assault the bridge and finish us off. Whatever happens, let us sell our lives as dearly as possible. If this is to be our end, I will have us make such an end as to be worth remembering.”

Outside the bridge, Mr. Smith is taunting the Russian sailors in their own language. He is spouting off the worst obscenities that he can think of in order to goad the Russians into doing something rash. Indeed, some of the younger and more hotblooded sailors among them hear the insult ‘Yob Tvoyu Mat’ and are practically frothing at the mouth in righteous anger. They rise to their feet and make ready to charge the door leading off the bridge; only a sternlyspoken order from Captain Rodionov keeps them in place. As this is the last battle that Captain Rodionov will ever fight, he solemnly belts on his naval officer’s sword (a gift from Tsar Nicholas II himself) and his officer’s sidearm (a Model 1895 Nagant revolver). He says “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure to have you all serve under my command. You are a credit to the Tsar and the Russian Imperial Navy.“ To Lt Cmdr Rogachev he says “There can’t be more than twenty men out there. Instead of charging them as one body, let us divide our remaining men in two. I will take the first group and sweep to the right. You will do likewise with your half to the left; perhaps we might yet prevail. May the blessed St. Cyril watch over us#....FORWARD FOR THE RODINA!!!”

Captain Rodionov, Lt Cmdr Rogachev and the remaining crew of the Admiral Nakhimov come boiling out of the ship’s bridge with their weapons at the ready. Captain Rodionov has unsheathed his sword and is holding it aloft in his right hand; the Nagant revolver is held at the ready in his left hand. Mr. Smith shakes his head as he coldly observes the charging Russian sailors. He orders his to “OPEN FIRE!!” Mr. Smith’s men raise their CP150 SMGs and rake the charging Russian sailors with withering fire. Among the very last to fall are Captain Rodionov and Lt. Cmdr Rogachev. They are within ten feet of Mr. Smith as they empty their Nagant revolvers directly into his chest without any effect at all. Both officers are shocked, then Lt. Cmdr Rogachev shouts the motto of the Russian Empire “GOD WITH US!!” and raises his boarding axe on high. His intent is to close with the giant stranger and bring the cruel steel edge of the axe down upon his head. Lt. Rogachev’s valiant effort is wasted as Mr. Smith places one round from his personal weapon straight through Rogachev’s breastbone. The round detonates and blows a fistsized bloody hole all the way through the officer’s back.

Captain Rodionov exclaims “What kind of demon are you?” Mr. Smith smiles malignantly and replies in perfect Russian “I’m no demon, my good captain. I’m just a man, the man who took your ship and killed your crew. I must compliment you on your choice of sidearms, sir. I like them so much that I’ll place them on the wall of my office.” Mr. Smith draws his combat knife, waves it at Captain Rodionov and says “Whenever you’re ready, mudak#.” This insult causes Captain Rodionov’s eyes to bulge with fury. He flourishes his sword, raises it to the ‘en garde’ position and prepares to engage his opponent. Mr. Smith brings his combat knife (more a short sword than anything else, with its’ 16” blade) to the ready.

Captain Rodionov’s first move is a Balestra, combined with a feint to Mr. Smith’s head. He follows this up with the true intent of his attack, an ‘AdvanceLunge’ designed to simultaneously close the distance with his opponent and skewer him through the midsection. Mr. Smith executes a Beat Parry, where he slaps aside Captain Rodionov’s sword with the flat of his own blade. Then, Mr. Smith tries for a gutting slash across his opponent’s midsection. Captain Rodionov avoids the slash without injury; all he gets is a cut in his uniform jacket.

The two combatants temporarily disengage while they contemplate their next moves. Mr. Smith chuckles malignantly and further mocks Captain Rodionov by saying “Is that the best you can do, little Zhopnik? I’ve had better competition from a ten yearold girl. Well, I’m warmed up now; time for you to die#.” Captain Rodionov again raises his sword to the guard position in anticipation for the coming attack. Mr. Smith feints towards the Captain’s head, then brings his blade low. Almost before Captain Rodionov can react, Mr. Smith flips his combat knife so that it is held with the edge of the blade facing up, Like a deadly steel serpent, Mr. Smith’s blade is thrust forward into Captain Rodionov’s abdomen. He yanks the weapon upward, effortlessly shearing through muscle and bone. Mr. Smith withdraws his blade and Captain Rodionov staggers backwards a few steps. He coughs wetly and drops dead upon the deck.

Mr. Smith taps the communications device in the helmet of his warsuit and says “Gunny, this is Smith. We have secured the bridge. How goes it with you?” GySgt Faulkner replies “I’m fivebyfive, boss. I have men on the ship’s magazines and on the ship’s hold. It’s here, just as you said it would be.”

“Copy that, Gunny. I’ll head down to the deck and pop the main hatch over the hold. Force the door open and have your guys stand by. I just zapped instructions to your HUD on how to work the deck crane; I want you here to run the crane.”

“Understood, boss. I’m on the way up.” In her absence, GySgt Faulkner’s men quickly and efficiently remove the heavy steel door by using shaped charges to cut through the hinges and locking bolts. Half a dozen men loop a steel cable around the door handle. They give the cable a mighty ‘HEAVE’, and the door crashes loudly to the deck. Above the hold on the main deck, Mr. Smith and his men have removed the hatch. The contents therein are exposed to the night sky; row upon row of neatlyordered wooden pallets. Each pallet has twentyfive iron strongboxes securely strapped to it. Each of the strongboxes is embossed with the Russian doubleheaded eagle, thus indicating that the contents are the property of the Tsar. The pallets are stacked fourhigh, and there are 55 stacks in all.

GySgt Faulkner gets to the operating cabin of the crane and lowers the lifting hook and chains down into the hold. The men in the hold securely fasten the chains around each stack of four pallets. The allclear signal is given, and GySgt Faulkner begins to make the first ‘Withdrawl’. On deck, Mr. Smith calls over to the SS Glomar Explorer and says “Teach, this is Smith. The first stack of pallets is coming over now. I’ll have Gunny place it in our own forward hold. It will be up to you and the boys over there to get the boxes stored properly.”

Captain Roberts replies “Understood, Boss.” While the contents of the hold are being transferred, Mr. Smith takes great care to see that the casualties from among the strike team are transferred to the SS Glomar Explorer’s sick bay. In total, eighteen men are down with injuries ranging from gunshots and stab wounds to the extremities; some of the men even have broken collar bones and dislocated shoulders from being clubbed with various implements. As soon as the last casualty is back aboard the SS Glomar Explorer, Mr. Smith gets on the comm channel and says to all of his personnel “We don’t want to be here one minute longer than necessary. There’s still a furious fleet action going on to the northeast of here. Alpha and Bravo teams, I want you to plant demolition charges on each of the four main magazines as well as in the mine locker under the quarterdeck. Don’t set the timers until you hear from me.”

By now, the first pallet has been transferred aboard SS Glomar Explorer and secured in her forward hold. At an average time of six minutes from start to finish, it will take fiveandahalf hours to take the rest of the treasure aboard. While all this is going on, Captain Roberts has the UAV and radar operators keep careful watch over the surrounding ocean waters in case any Japanese or Russian ships come calling

Time: 2:00 AM

The last of the treasure from the Admiral Nakimov has been safely transferred and stored aboard SS Glomar Explorer. This is just in the nick of time, because Captain Roberst calls Mr. Smith over the comm channel and says “Boss, this is Teach. My radar screens show a Japanese battlecruiser inbound to our position. It is coming from the northeast; range is five miles and closing. Speed of advance is ten knots.”

“Roger that, Teach. Is there anything in the library about that particular ship?”

“Yes, sir. I had the approach of the ship confirmed by the Ghost Eagle. The operators snapped some hiresolution shots. I compared them to our Copy of the ‘Jane’s’ database. The approaching ship is the Japanese auxillary cruiser Sado Maru; she’s almost as big as we are. She mounts eight 5.5” guns on open deck mounts. Firepowerwise, the Sado Maru is a serious player.”

Mr. Smith replies “Is there anything else to report, Teach?”

Captain Roberts replies “Sir, there are two mediumsize contacts flanking the Sado Maru; these are probably destroyers. The Sado Maru is being followed inline astern by five smaller contacts; these are most likely torpedo boats. This makes for a total of eight contacts.”

“Understood, Teach. We’re coming back aboard. Make preparations to get underway, and cut the cables once I am back on deck. I’m having demolition charges set in the Admiral Nakhimov’s main magazines and in the mine locker; the delay will be thirty minutes.”

“Copy that, Boss. Teach Out.”

Mr. Smith, GySgt Faulkner and the other members of the strike team quickly evacuate the Admiral Nakhimov. Below decks on the Russian vessel, the timers attached to 50lb demolition charges are steadily ticking the minutes away from detonation. As soon as Mr. Smith is back aboard the SS Glomar Explorer, he orders “Cut the cables.” The mooring lines are severed with axes, and the vessel is drifting away. On the bridge, Captain Roberts quickly orders “Helm, make revolutions for 20 knots; get us the hell out of here!!”

The SS Glomar Explorer’s engines smoothly answer the helm, and the ship is on her way out of danger. Thirty minutes later, the Sado Maru and her two escorting destroyers come close aboard to the Admiral Nakhimov. They see several Russian sailors waving for rescue; there are fires burning on deck, and the ship is down somewhat by the head. The Japanese commander sees an opportunity for a prize of war, so he orders that damage control crews go aboard and secure the Russian vessel. As security, the five torpedo boats are ordered to take up a line on the starboard side of the Admiral Nakhimov. Just as soon as boats are lowered into the water, there is an earthshattering ‘KABOOM’. The demolition charges in the Admiral Nakhimov’s magazines and mine locker explode. Hundreds of tons of high explosives and other munitions go off in a stupendous blast that is so powerful that the torpedo boats located two hundred yards to starboard are instantly smashed flat like so much junk in the water. The Sado Maru and her two escorts don’t escape unharmed; the nearest destroyer to the unfortunate Admiral Nakimov heels over and capsizes before the power of the blast. The second destroyer has her upper works smashed, and the Sado Maru suffers heavy damage to her superstructure.

When the SS Glomar Explorer has cleared the danger area, Mr. Smith goes to the ship’s sickbay to see how his injured men are doing. With this task accomplished, he rejoins GySgt Faulkner on deck and says “Well, Gunny. We did it, We pulled off the greatest maritime heist in human history.”

“We certainly did, Boss. Though those Russians were totallyoutclassed by our weapons and equipment, I have to admire the way they kept on coming at us. Remember that two hundred yearold champagne you told me about? Well, I think we’re all going to need a drink after this little caper.”

“Indeed, Gunny.” Suddenly, Mr. Smith chuckles loudly with a piratical gleam in his eye. He gestures towards SS Glomar Explorer’s masthead and loudly shouts “HOIST THE COLORS!!!” GySgt Faulkner doesn’t quite comprehend Mr. Smith’s meaning at first. The import comes through when a deckhand scrambles up the mast and raises a speciallydesigned pirate flag that begins to flap in the early morning breeze.

Mr. Smith is seized by a flight of fancy as he begins to sing loudly:

‘Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a Pirate's Life for me.
We pillage and plunder, we rifle and loot.
Drink up me Hearties, Yo Ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me Hearties, Yo Ho’

GySgt Faulkner searches her thoughts for a second or two to identify the tune that Mr. Smith is singing. She realizes just where the song came from and grins widely. She picks up the tune and continues the refrain:

‘Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a Pirate's Life for me.
We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack.
Drink up me Hearties, Yo Ho.
Maraud and embezzle and even highjack.
Drink up me Hearties, Yo Ho’

Homeward Bound
Date: May 28th, 1905
Location: 150 nautical miles southsoutheast of the Straits of Tsushima
Time: 7:00 AM local time

Under Captain Roberts’ steady hand, the SS Glomar Explorer speedily withdrew from the area of the Straits of Tsushima. By the time she is 150 nautical miles away, the sun is above the horizon. Overhead, the sky is partly to mostlycloudy; the seas are calm with just a small amount of chop. Captain Roberts calls to his XO and says “Jack, use the ship’s radar systems and scan the surrounding area out to a distance of 100 miles. I want to know if there are any surface contacts at all in the area.”

“Aye, Captain.” Five minutes later, Rackham reports “Sir, my scans show no surface targets within range. I didn’t look too hard for aerial targets, though.” This second line is delivered with a grin, and Captain Roberts obliges with a rumble of laughter. He says “Very well, Jack. Mr. Smith, we’re ready.”

“Alright, Teach. Set course for the City of Balboa in Panama. Make your speed thirty knots. I want the radar manned twentyfour hours a day from now on, unless I say otherwise. If any ships come within thirty miles of our position, back our speed down to fifteen knots. No other ship must know about our capabilities. When we reach a point that is thirty miles from Balboa, we’ll stop engines and prepare to use the time device. This time, our target will be June 11th, 1928.”

“Understood, Boss.” Captain Roberts issues the requisite orders, and very quickly, the SS Glomar Explorer’s engines are thrumming as they drive the ship through the iceblue waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Date: June 11th, 1905
Time: 8:00 PM

After an uneventful voyage of nearly 8,500 miles, the SS Glomar Explorer arrives off the Pacific coast of Panama early in the morning. At full speed, she would have made the trip in just 11 days. However, the radar watch sighted several vessels within thirty miles and so, the ship had to reduce speed accordingly. She joins the queue of ships waiting for passage through the Panama Canal. By 8:00 PM, the SS Glomar Explorer is on station. Mr. Smith orders the time device activated and the ship makes a smooth transition to June 11th, 1928.
Upon arrival in 1928, the SS Glomar Explorer makes her way to a point thirty miles off the coast of Balboa. She proceeds at a speed of just ten knots until she joins the queue of shipping just offshore from the Balboa district of Panama City. By radiotelegraph, Captain Roberts is informed that the SS Glomar explorer will be in position to transit the canal starting at 1:00 PM. The services of a canal tug are arranged. As soon as the tug comes alongside and is made fast, the passage fee of $5,000 will be paid once again from the ship’s operating funds.

Date: June 12th, 1928
Time: 1:00 PM

The SS Glomar Explorer is now at the head of the shipping queue. As arranged the night before, the canal tug comes alongside and cables are passed between the two ships. They are made fast, then Captain Roberts pays the tug’s master the transit fee of $5,000. By 10:00 PM, The SS Glomar Explorer has finished her transit of the Panama Canal. The canal tug unships the mooring lines holding the two vessels together and returns back to her other duties. As soon as the tug is away, Captain Roberts orders his bridge crew “Let’s get underway, gentlemen. Helm, make your speed fifteen knots” The ship answers smartly and is underway. Captain Roberts asks “Mr. Smith, what are your orders?”

“Teach, set course for the east coast of the United States. When we reach a position sixty miles due west of the City of Long Branch, New Jersey, we’ll make our transition to April, 1928. My orders on the keeping of a radar watch still stand.”

“Very good, sir.”

Date: June 15th, 1928
Time: 9:00 PM

The distance between Balboa, Panama and the coast of New Jersey is less than onequarter the distance from South Korea to Panama. Therefore, the SS Glomar Explorer makes the voyage in just three days. This time around, however, no ships were sighted within thirty miles; the ship was able to maintain a speed of thirty knots for almost the entire voyage. At 9:00 PM on the evening of June 15th, 1928, the SS Glomar Explorer arrives in position off the New Jersey coast. Captain Roberts reports this to Mr. Smith, who says “Excellent work, Teach. My compliments on your shiphandling abilities. Make ready for the transition, if you please. Have all departments report when ready”

“Understood, Sir.” Captain Roberts comes back just a few minutes later and says “Mr. Smith, we’re ready. Jack Rackham reports that all departments are buttonedup tight and are ready to go.”

“Alright, Teach.” Mr. Smith taps his communicator and says “Control, this is Smith. Prepare to engage the time device on my mark; three….two….one….MARK!!” Once again, the temporal displacement field is created by the device; it instantly covers the whole ship and takes effect. All the members of the ship’s complement experience the same flash of flight in the optic centers of their brains as they did previously. Then, just as suddenly as the ship fades from view on June 15th, she reappears in the very same position on April 25th, 1928.

A Safe Return
Date: April 25th, 1928
Location: sixty nautical miles due west of Long Branch, New Jersey.
Time: 6:00 PM

The SS Glomar Explorer reappears off the cost of New Jersey precisely where intended. After seeing that his ship and crew have suffered no ill effects from the transition, Captain Roberts says “Helm, set course for upper New York Bay. Make your speed ten knots.”

“Aye, sir.”

When the ship is again underway, Mr. Smith says “Bravo, Teach. Once again, you and the boys have done a magnificent job. You’ll all be getting a bonus.”

“Thanks, boss.” Mr. Smith continues speaking “When we get back to the Port of Newark, I’ll have the harbor tugs take us to the main pier of the Oak Island Freight Yard (instead of the ship’s regular berth upriver). This way, we can minimize the risk to security by offloading the iron strongboxes directly onto a freight train rather than transferring them to the train by truck.”

“Copy that, Boss. Do you have further instructions?”

“Yes. Have the assault teams change into their 1928era suits. They will store their modern weapons in the ship’s armory and be issued ColtThompson submachineguns, Browning Automatic Rifles, Winchester Model 1897 shotguns and Colt ‘Commercial’ Model 1911 .45 automatic pistols. The members of the teams will be serving as security aboard the train that will carry the treasure back to Chicago.”

“Understood, Boss.”

The SS Glomar Explorer begins to make her slow passage towards land. Mr. Smith exits the bridge, leaving Captain Roberts to his other duties. He goes to the ship’s conference room, where GySgt Faulkner is waiting for him. She says “Boss, I’ve just been down to the infirmary. The boys who were injured during our ‘withdrawl’ from the Admiral Nakhimov are recovering nicely. The Doc says they’ll all be back on their feet in a week; the time we spent on the passage across the Pacific and the Atlantic certainly helped.”

“Excellent news, Gunny. Without them, we couldn’t do what we do best, now could we?”

“Right you are, Boss.” GySgt Faulkner’s face then assumes a look of minor exasperation as she lectures Mr. Smith by saying “Boss, in the ‘future’, can you puhlease avoid grandstanding displays like when you took on those two Russian officers? One of the guys told me all about it. You brought me on as your bodyguard, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t point out that stunts like that often attract the attention of the vile demonic presence known as ‘Murphy’.”

“You are right, Gunny. I was showing off.” Mr. Smith chuckles and says “Even though the outcome of the operation was as certain as the aftereffects of getting hit by a freight train, I just wanted those two officers to think they had the ghost of a chance. In the future, I’ll just shoot the bastards in the lips. Will that do?”

“Alright, Boss. Now that we’re back in the States, what’s out next move?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Gunny. For now, we’re going to tie up at the Oak Island Freight Yard just north of the Port of Newark. We’ll supervise the offloading of the material we got from the Admiral Nakhimov onto a freight train, then we and the assault team will be accompanying the train back to Chicago. The bullion and the sovereigns will be put into secure storage until my vault is finished and ready to receive it. Then, we’ll be meeting with Al Capone to see how things have been going in the rackets while we have been away. I have it in mind to try and persuade him to turn over the running of the Outfit’s joy houses to you. I know that one of your hotbutton issues is the mistreatment of women, so who better to run them but another woman?”

“That# is an interesting idea, boss. What are the specifics?”

“Gunny, right now, the Outfit runs some 1,500 joy houses in the greater Chicago Metropolitan Area. Until April of 1924, they were under the control of Al Capone’s brother Frank. On April 1st, 1924, Al and Frank Capone were taking over the Town of Cicero, Illinois by rigging the elections being held on that day. Chicago PD got involved; guns were drawn and Frank was hit a couple dozen times. The Big Man is still livid, even though the killing happened nearly four years ago. Frank was armed, but he never had his weapon out. Those socalled officers shot him down like a dog. In the aftermath of Frank’s death, the Outfit’s joy houses were turned over to Al’s brother Ralph ‘Bottles’ Capone. Ralph got the name because he is in charge of all the Chicago Outfit’s ‘legitimate’ bottling business; these include soft drinks and near beer. The joy houses are just his sideline, however; they’re profitable, but not as profitable as they could be if you were in charge. That’s what I am going to tell the Big Man.”

GySgt Faulkner’s face assumes a look of thoughtful contemplation as she considers what Mr. Smith is telling her. She says “Boss, if you can get Capone to give me control over the Houses, I’ll have them squared away in no time flat.”

“Thank you, Gunny. I know I can always count on you. Now, as to future endeavors. After the bullion from the Admiral Nakhimov is safely stored away and we’re done with our meeting with Al Capone, I want you to take the assault group back to the Port of Newark and get back aboard the SS Glomar Explorer. There is another ‘recycling’ job I want you to take command of, personally#.”

GySgt Faulkner raises an eyebrow in curiosity and says “What’s the job, boss?”

“Gunny, the SS Glomar Explorer will be going back to the year 1511. On November 20th of that year, the Portugese carrack ‘Flor De la Mar’ (Flower of the Sea) sank of the coast of Sumatra during a storm. She was under the command of the nobleman Admiral Afonso de Albuquerque, and was carrying a vast amount of treasure taken during the conquest of the Sultanate of Malacca. Specifically, this treasure comprises 60 tons of various gold objects (including the Sultan’s throne, which weighs two tons), 450 tons of gold in the form of bullion and coins, plus sixty chests each of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires; each of the chests holds 40 lbs weight of stones. The stones are all very large, faceted and of the very highest quality. You can see why I want this ship. Captain Roberts will take the SS Glomar explorer back to November 22nd, 1511, two days after the storm. The wreck of the Flor De La Mar will be sitting on the seabed 300’ below the surface. The other ships of the Portugese fleet will have moved out of the area, so I don’t anticipate any combat unless circumstances force your hand; this will be an underwater salvage job all the way.”

“I understand, Boss. You can rely on me.”

“Thank you. Gunny.”

Shipping the Booty
Date: April 26th, 1928
Location: the Port of Newark, New Jersey
Time: 1:00 AM

The SS Glomar Explorer safely made it to her berth at 1:00 AM this morning after making her way slowly through Lower and Upper New York Bay. She was met at the entrance to Kill Van Kull by a harbor tug which brought her dockside. The ship was made fast to her moorings, then Mr. Smith said “Teach, we made it back home safe and sound. It is too late to do anything about unloading the treasure, so I suggest we all get some rest and begin after sunup.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Boss. What’s the plan for this morning?”

“Teach, the boys in the assault group are going to stand watch on deck. There will be teams fore, aft and amidships, plus a roving group. In the morning, I’ll go and speak to the harbormaster about getting a train to carry the loot back to Chicago. We’ll need twentytwo cars, plus the locomotive and a caboose. Getting the train together shouldn’t take any longer than an hour or so. As soon as the train comes alongside, we’ll begin the offloading process.”

“Alright, Boss.”

Time: 8:00 AM

Mr. Smith wakes bright and early on this April morning and has breakfast with GySgt Faulkner. They confer about further details regarding the trip to Chicago. He says “Gunny, pick ten men from the assault team. We and those ten men are going to be security for the shipment. You and I and the men are going to be in the caboose. The distance by rail from here to Chicago is just under 800 miles. So, if we allow for delays due to refueling and other rail traffic, we should be back in Chicago on the afternoon of April 28th.”

GySgt Faulkner nods and says “Boss, excuse me for being paranoid, but where is the loot going to be stored? We can’t just show up to the First National Bank of Chicago in a fleet of trucks and say “Hello, I’ve got quite a few sensually caresstons of precious metals I need to store. Can I use your vault?” Mr. Smith nods as GySgt Faulkner continues to speak “Boss, your main vault is still under construction; it won’t be finished for another six months.”

Mr. Smith chuckles at the obvious humor in GySgt Faulkner’s words. He says “Never fear, Gunny. I have planned for this eventuality. The Union State Bank of Chicago recently consolidated some of its operations and sold off its surplus buildings. I bought one of these, located on East 92nd street. It has a capacious and highlysecure vault in the basement (twenty feet below ground level), which will be sufficient for our purposes. Now, let us be off.”

Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner leave the ship’s conference room and head toward the gangplank. Along the way, they see the men of the assault team getting ready to take up their mission to guard the treasure form the Admiral Nakhimov. Everyone is wearing typical 1920’s attire. Though it is late April, there is still a good deal of chill in the seaside air. So, every member of the detail is wearing a trench coat. Here and there, some men are talking amongst themselves while they clean and maintain the weapons they will use; Thompson SMGs, Browning Automatic Rifles, Winchester Model 1897 shotguns and Colt ‘Commercial’ Model 1911 automatic pistols. After a brisk walk across the Port of Newark, Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner enter the building which houses the offices of the harbormaster, James Hudson. Mr. Smith knocks on the office door; Hudson raises his head from his desk where he is working on papers relating to the port’s morning business. He says “Can I help you, sir?”

“Good morning, Mr. Husdon. I am James Smith, chairman and CEO of Smith Development Enterprises. This lady beside me is my executive assistant Joanne Faulkner. We recently arrived back in port aboard my ship SS Glomar Explorer. I have certain materiel aboard her than I need to have shipped to Chicago. I therefore need to arrange for the services of a freight train.”

“Good morning, Mr. Smith. I think I will be able to accommodate your request. As it so happens, a large shipment of machine parts and tools was unloaded here late last night. The train hasn’t been reloaded yet. So, it is available. How many cars will you need and where are you and your freight going?”

“Mr. Hudson, I will need twentytwo freight cars, plus the locomotive and a caboose. My materiel is both sensitive and valuable, so I and my men will be travelling aboard the train for security reasons. The freight will be going from here to the Beelman River Terminal in Chicago.”

“I understand, Sir. Where is your ship located?”

“We’re moored alongside Pier #5.”

“Very well, Mr. Smith.” Mr. Hudson spends a few minutes consulting his rate book. He says “The distance from here to the Beelman River Terminal is 785 miles. Our standard rate for longdistance shipping of bulk freight is $8.00 per ton, with a fuel surcharge of one cent per tonmile. Because this train would be used to carry your material and nothing else, there is an additional fee of $5.00 per ton. I need to ask, sir, what is the total weight of the shipment?”

Mr. Smith replies in a businesslike manner “The total weight of materiel to be shipped is 845.8 tons.”

Mr. Hudson takes out his pencil and a pad of paper. He begins to calculate the total shipping charge. After a few minutes, he says “Mr. Smith, based on the weight of the shipment you mentioned, the total cost to move it from here to the Beelman River Terminal in Chicago will be $17,634.95. Will that be acceptable?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Hudson. The price you quoted me is entirely within my expectations.”

“Excellent, Mr. Smith. And as to the matter of payment?”

“Mr. Hudson, are you able to accept cash? My shipment will not admit to anything in the way of delays, and I realize that a check for that amount would take some time to clear. Even a wire transfer would take too long for my liking.”

“Cash will be just fine, Mr. Smith. When will you be able to get it here?”

Mr. Smith grins smugly and says “Will right now be soon enough, Mr. Hudson?” To GySgt Faulkner he turns and says “Pay the man, Miss Faulkner.” GySgt Faulkner opens her leather attache case and begins to peel off $500.00 bills. While she is doing this, Mr. Smith says “Rather than the amount of $17,634.95, I will pay you an even $25,000.00. The extra money is a bonus for you. See that nothing gets in the way of my shipment getting out of here on time.”

Mr. Hudson is unused to dealing with such a large sum of cash. However, he hesitates only briefly before saying “Thank you, Mr. Smith. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll have the train on the siding next to Pier #5 within the hour.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hudson. The pleasure is all mine. It will interest you to know that there will be other times when I need your services. I look forward to doing business with you again. And now, if you will please excuse me. I and Miss Faulkner have to return to my ship to facilitate the offloading process.”

“At your convenience, sir.” Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner briskly walk back across the Port to Pier #5. They reboard the SS Glomar Explorer and go to the bridge, where Captain Roberts is waiting expectantly for their return. He says “How did it go, Boss?”

“As well as can be expected, Teach. I told the harbormaster what I needed and he quoted me a price. I had Gunny Faulkner start peeling off $500.00 bills, and you should have seen how wide his eyes got. He was practically falling all over himself in order to accommodate us. In any case, the freight train will be alongside the pier in one hour. Have the men prepare to assist in offloading the treasure. When the train gets here, tell off thirty men and have them assume a security cordon on the dock. The others will make sure each and every pallet is securely wrapped in canvas tarpaulins so that no one can see what is underneath.”

“Understood, Boss.” Captain Roberts communicates these orders through the XO Jack Rackham. By the time the train is alongside, there are two groups of 15 men each at either end of the train. All are heavily armed. Aboard the SS Glomar Explorer, the cargo hatch has been opened up; the first group of pallets has been wrapped tightly with canvas tarpaulins. The canvas is wired closed, and the dockside crane operator maneuvers the boom of his machine so that the hook lowers down into the ship’s cargo hold. The cargo detail runs heavy cargo chains over, around and underneath the first pallet. Each pallet contains fifty strongboxes stacked in layers of 25 boxes each. The total load per pallet is 15,380 lbs (well under the crane’s 10ton limit). Swiftly and surely, each pallet is lifted out of the cargo hold and carried over to the waiting freight train. The pallets are lowered into the gondola cars, with five pallets per car. In one hour, all 110 pallets have been loaded onto the train.

As soon as the loading process is complete, Mr. Smith brings in the men on the security cordon and the rest of the assault team and says “Alright guys, here’s the plan. Gunny Faulkner picked ten of you to come along on the trip to Chicago. I want the rest of you back aboard ship to get ready for the next trip. Captain Roberts will have made a schedule for shore leave. When you’re off the ship, never go anywhere unarmed and in groups of 35; get your fill of the three ‘F’s’, then get back to the ship as soon as possible.”

The men who are staying behind laugh uproariously when Mr. Smith mentions the three ‘F’s’. Those who will be accompanying the train to Chicago grumble goodnaturedly; the grumbles turn to grins when Mr. Smith smiles and says “Guys, you’ll be able to indulge when we get to Chicago. I’m in with the Big Man, and like as not, he’s got establishments that will suit you all to a ‘T’.”

At the front of the train, the engineer blows his steam whistle to signify that he is ready to go. The whistle’s blast echoes across the Port as Mr. Smith, GySgt Faulkner and the ten men of the security detail board the caboose. The engineer peers out of the side windows on each side of his cab to see that all is in readiness. He releases the brakes and slowly the train makes its way off the siding on Pier #5 and out of the port. The locomotive pulling the train is a 482 model built by Baldwin Locomotive Works in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It is of such a size that the tender is fitted with a mechanical auger to feed coal from the fuel bunker to the firebox.

GySgt Faulkner looks out the window from her seat directly across from Mr. Smith and says “Boss, even though I’ve been downtime with you for a good while, I still can’t quite wrap my mind around all the antiques we’re seeing out and around. You remember what I said about the plane we were on when we were coming back from Las Vegas, about how something like that would be in a museum? Well, I’m saying it again. I’ve never seen an operating steam locomotive in my life, not even in any of the crapholes the Corps sent me into.”

“I know what you mean, Gunny. In the world we came from, the last operational steam locomotive went off the tracks and into a museum before I was born#.” While Mr. Smith and GySgt Faulkner are talking, the locomotive is hissing loudly; it belches forth smoke, steam and ash like some great iron dragon from the dawn of time. As the train goes onwards, a series of loud metallic clicks is heard. These are caused by the wheels going over the joints between the rails; as the train goes faster, the clicks come faster and faster. Mr. Smith performs a simple mental exercise to estimate the speed of the train. He says “Gunny, unless standards have greatly changed between now and 2090, the length of a railroad rail is 39’; every time we go over a joint between two sections of rail, there is a click. For every one mile of track length, there are 135 clicks. If we assume a speed of 60 miles per hour, we should hear 135 clicks per minute. Right now, we’re only hearing about 65 clicks per minute; this would make our speed 30 miles per hour. Our speed will certainly increase as we leave Newark and get out onto the main rail line westwards to Chicago.

GySgt Faulkner nods appreciatively. She grins and says “Boss, I have just as much appreciation for history as you do, but for longdistance travel, I’d take a Boeing Hyperfan or a TGV any day of the week.”

“It is so noted, Gunny.” Mr. Smith calls for the attention on every other member of the security detail. He says “Guys, the distance from Newark to Chicago is 785 miles. There will be one, possibly two stops along the way for coal and water. Whenever the train does stop, I want security on both sides of the train until we begin to move again. Is that understood?”

The members of the security detail collectively respond “Roger that, Boss.”

Returning to base
Date: April 26th, 1928
Location: Union Railroad Depot, Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 6:00 PM

The special freight train hauling Mr. Smith, his security personnel and the proceeds from his assault upon the Admiral Nakhimov pulls into the refueling yard at the Union Railroad Depot outside of Cleveland, Ohio at approximately 6:00 PM local time. The purpose is to refill the locomotive tender’s water tanks and coal bunkers. Mr. Smith is lightly dozing off in a seat by one of the caboose’s windows when GySgt Faukner gently nudges him awake “Boss, I’m sorry to disturb you, but we’re pulling into a railroad depot for coal and water.”
Mr. Smith is instantly awake. He says “That’s quite alright, Gunny. Thank you for letting me know. As soon as we have stopped moving, have two of the boys stay here in the caboose. I’ll take one man with me to guard the locomotive during the refueling process. You and the rest of the crew will be out on perimeter around the train. Stay loose and keep your eyes peeled; no one except our guys and the locomotive’s crew gets close to the train without my sayso.”

“You got it, Boss.” GySgt Faulkner deploys the security team as ordered. Though it is late April, there is still some chill in the air due to Cleveland’s proximity to Lake Erie. Overhead, the skies are mostlycloudy; the winds are out of the north and west, bringing a hint of foul weather to come. The weather doesn’t concern the locomotive crew or the staff of the Depot, all of whom have worked in far less agreeable conditions than this. The engineer applies the brakes, and the freight terrain gradually slows down and stops. For reasons of safety, the locomotive will not be used to move the train while being refueled. Instead, a small electric switching engine comes up behind the train. The operators of the switch engine couple it to the rear of the caboose and ever so slowly move the freight train forward until the locomotive tender is positioned between the coaling station and the water tower.

To refill the tender’s water tanks, a water crane is lowered down from the side of the water tower. The end of the crane is placed through an opening in the water tank, and the valve is opened by the locomotive’s fireman. The water sloshes and gurgles down through the pipe at the rate of one hundred gallons per minute. Since the tender has a capacity of 4,000 gallons, refilling it will take forty minutes. Refilling the tender’s coal bunker will take far less time than this. The bunker is located forward of the tender’s water tank. While the tank is being pumped full, a chute is lowered down over the top of the coal bunker; the chute leads from a twostory aboveground coal bin. One of the fireman’s two assistants opens the chute and coal rattles down into the hopper. The second assistant fireman is standing on top of the tender with a rake; his taks is to keep the coal chute from clogging up during the transfer process. By the time the coal bunker is full, the water tanks are at 50% capacity and rising.

Mr. Smith is watching the refueling process with great interest. For him, seeing something happen in real life that he knows only from old pictures and film footage is a real pleasure. Elsewhere around the train, GySgt Faulkner and the other members of the security team are on patrol. None of the guards attracts much attention from the yard crew or the usual group of teens and young boys that typically hang around train yards, except of course for GySgt Faulkner. Her appearance is so unlike any other woman that these people have ever seen that she can’t help but attract all sorts of attention. Some of the younger men in the onlookers toss a few wolf whistles in her direction; Faulkner glowers at them in response, but holds her temper in check. She resumes walking up and won the length of the train. A few of the bolder onlookers take to following her at what they think is a discrete distance. GySgt Faulkner chuckles malignantly, then puts a stop to her ‘fan club’ by hefting her Thompson submachinegun and fixing them with a stare that is so ferocious that it could literally start a broken clock.

GySgt Faulkner’s ‘admirers’ suddenly decide they have urgent business elsewhere and scatter like a bunch of cats being chased by a ferocious dog. There are no further incidents, and the refueling process is completed twenty minutes later. At the side of the locomotive, the engineer says “Mr. Smith, we’re ready to go.”

“Alright. I’ll get my people back aboard the caboose and I’ll signal you to move out.” Mr. Smith walks back towards the caboose, gathering up all of his personnel. He comes to GySgt Faulkner and says “All aboard, Gunny. We’re moving out.”

“Right, Bossman.” Smith’s crew reboards the caboose and he leans out one of the side windows to signal the engineer. He disengages the train’s brakes and blows a long blast on the locomotive’s steam whistle to let everyone in the yard know that the train is moving out. The locomotive huffs loudly as the drive wheels and shafts turn and ever so slowly, heave the great weight of the freight train forward and out of the Union Railroad Depot. In the caboose, Mr. Smith, GySgt Faulkner and the rest of the security detail open their ration packs and eat dinner.

There are no further interruptions on the trip, and so, the freight train pulls into the Beelman River Terminal outside of Chicago, Illinois at 4:00 AM the next morning. Mr. Smith says “Gunny, I’m heading back to the Lexington Hotel to meet with the Big Man later this morning. You’re in charge of getting the bullion transferred to the Union State Bank Building on East 92nd Street. I have already given you contact information for the trucking company I want you to use; call ther when they open at 8:00 AM. You’ve got my private phone number at the hotel. If anyone at the trucking company gives you any lip, call and let me know so I can tell them who’s who and what’s what.”

“Ok, Boss. You can rely on me.”

“I know I can, Gunny. When you and the boys are done with the transfer, get yourself and the rest of the crew over to the Lexington for some rest and chow.”

“Thank you, Boss. That will be muchappreciated.”

“Of course, Gunny. I also have something else that will be sure to pique your interest. Remember when we were discussing the possibility of Al Capone turning over the Outfit’s joy houses to you?”

“Certainly, Sir. How could I forget?”

“Well Gunny, when I meet with the Big Man this morning, I will convince him to do that very thing. I’ll let him know that you’ll be running the houses any way you like, consistent with the safety and security of the girls. You’ll be able to hire such other staff as you see fit. I think he will agree, because the only thing the Boss is concerned about is making money.”

“Received and understood, Sir.”

“With that little detail out of the way, I’m off to the Lexington to get cleaned up and a little rack time before I meet with Al Capone. I’ll see you and the boys there later today.” Mr. Smith leaves the platform where the freight train is parked and exits the Terminal through the front offices. Once outside, he hails a cab to take him to the Lexington Hotel. Mr. Smith is in an expansive mood because of his recent success, so he tips the cab driver $50.00.

Mr. Smith enters the lobby of the hotel and greets Louis Campagna, who is on watch over by the elevator. He calls out “Good morning, Mr. Campagna. How are you this fine day?” Louis replies “Hello there, Mr. Smith. Where have you been? The Boss has been asking for you.”

“My apologies for being so remiss, Mr. Campagna. There was a business matter outside the country that required my personal attention. I only arrived back in Chicago an hour ago, so I’m going to get cleaned up before I meet Mr. Capone later this morning. In the meantime, I have something for you.” Mr. Smith tosses him a wrapped box of cigars and says “these are Cohiba Grande cigars, the very best that Cuba makes. This box is for you; I’ve got one for each of the boys and a dozen boxes for the Big Man himself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. I appreciate that; I’ll call upstairs and let Jack McGurn and Frankie Yale know you’re on the way up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Campagna.” Mr. Smith boards the elevator and rides it up to the fifth floor. His rooms are just down the hall from Al Capone’s suite. To get there, he passes by where Jack McGurn and Frankie Yale are stationed. As he walks by, he greets them by saying “Hello, boys. I’m baaaack#.” Jack and Frankie return the greetings and Mr. Smith says “When Mr. Capone wakes up this morning, would you please be good enough to let him know that I’ll be into see him at 9:00 AM sharp? I’ve had a very long trip and I need to get cleaned up first.”

“We’ll tell him, Mr. Smith.”

“Thanks, boys.” Mr. Smith goes to his suite. Opens the door and locks it behind him. He peels himself out of the rather musty suit he’s been wearing and takes a long, hot shower. Thus refreshed, he lifts the receiver of his bedside phone and calls down to the hotel kitchen’s night staff. He says “This is Mr. Smith in Room 500. I’ll have breakfast brought up immediately, if you please.”

A rather tinnysounding voice replies over the phone and says “What will you have, sir?”

“I’ll have a doubleorder of corned beef hash and a sixegg omelet, with side orders of bacon and sausage. Six slices of toast with butter and raspberry jam, plus milk, orange juice and a pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain #1 coffee.”

“Very good, sir. Your meal will be ready in thirty minutes.” Half an hour later, a hotel waiter arrives, knocks on Mr. Smith’s and says “Room Service, sir. Your breakfast is here.”

“Alright.” Mr. Smith unlocks his door and the waiter enters pushing a wheeled cart piled high with breakfast dishes. He arranges the dishes on the table, then pours Mr. Smith a cup of the Blue Mountain coffee that Jamaica is so famous for. The waiter is tipped $20.00 and withdraws from the room. Mr. Smith wolfs down his breakfast, then stretches out on his bed for a power nap. The meeting with Al Capone is scheduled for 9:00 AM sharp; Mr. Smith is in no danger of oversleeping because he has a highlydeveloped time sense.

Time: 8:30 AM

After sleeping for three hours straight, Mr. Smith wakes up, alert and refreshed. He dons one of his immaculatelytailored threepiece suits from Brooks Brothers in New York, pausing before the mirror to see that everything is in place. Satisfied with his sartorial perfection, Mr. Smith walks down the hallway to Al Capone’s office. He knocks, receives permission to enter and takes his customary place halfway down the conference table on the Big Man’s right side.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t the prodigal son returning at last... Where have you been, Smith? I was beginning to think the competition had taken you for a ride.”

Mr. Smith smiles disarmingly and says “Hardly, sir. My apologies for being so remiss in not staying in touch with you. My absence was lengthened by an overseas business matter that required my personal intervention. Suffice it to say that this matter didn’t concern the Chicago Outfit at all. As regards my trip to Havana, it was eminently successful. I now own a controlling interest in the best hotel in all of Cuba, the Hotel Nacional (located in downtown Havana). Better yet, I have an exclusive license to operate casinos and other entertainment venues. This was personallygranted to me by President Machado.”

“Alright, Smith. That’s your business. Tell me about the whiskey you have coming in from Ireland.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Capone. I was just getting to that. The initial shipment of 128,000 casks from Ireland will be in Cuba no later than thirty days from now. It will be stored in government warehouses, with protection afforded by the Cuban government’s security services. I told President Machado that the whiskey was being transshipped through Cuba because people elsewhere had developed quite a taste for it. The President didn’t need too much in the way of convincing, because money talks and male bovine excrement walks. When I started piling stacks of cash on his desk, he practically climbed the walls to accommodate me.”

“That’s good, Smith. Real good. I like the way you do things. What else do you have for me?”
“Just two other items, sir. I am covering the costs of this shipment of whiskey to Cuba, plus all other such shipments from Ireland in the future. It will be the responsibility of the Chicago Outfit to get the product into the United States.”

“That seems fair enough. What’s your second item, Smith?”

“Mr. Capone, it concerns the Outfit’s joy houses here in Chicago. Currently, your organization has thousands of such venues, spread throughout all of the twenty wards of the City. Up until April 1st, 1924, they were run by your late, lamented brother Frank, God rest his soul. After he was mostfoully murdered by officers of the Chicago Police Department in the runup to the municipal elections in Cicero, you saw fit to bestow control of this part of the Outfit to your brother Ralph. Sir, you gave Ralph the nickname ‘Bottles’ because he’s in charge of the Outfit’s bottling operations for refreshments that are legal and illegal.”

“Smith, thanks for the history lesson; I already know it. Get to the point.”

“Of course, sir. Your brother is a capable administrator, but he’s never been entirely comfortable of running the joy houses. I bring this up because I respectfully request that you transfer control of that part of your organization from Ralph to my business associate Miss Faulkner. After all, who better to run a business staffed by women than another woman?” In regards to the revenue concerned, my advice to you, plus my assistance and the equipment I have delivered have greatly increased your cash flow. If you grant my request, I can guarantee at least a 50% to 75% increase in profits from the joy houses.”

Mr. Smith’s information causes hushed discussions to run around the conference table. Al Capone leans back in his chair, thinks for a few minutes and says “Smith, I like those numbers. However, I can’t just pull the rug out from under Ralph’s feet. I’m going to run this one by him first. If he greenlights it, the operation of the Joy houses will be given to Faulkner. I’ll have an answer for you in two days.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Capone. As a token of my esteem, I brought back a great deal of the finest Cuban cigars in existence; these are the ‘Cohiba Grande’ brand. They’re completely handrolled, and cost me ten dollars each. For you, I have twelve full boxes of 25 cigars each; there is also a full box for reach of your men. I already gave one box to Mr. Campagna when I met him in the lobby of the hotel early this morning.”

Al Capone signals his appreciation of the gift by grinning widely and saying “You’re a man after my own heart, Smith.”

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Sun Nov 29, 2015 11:12 pm 
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Location: Currently 3rd Rock from the sun
I'm surprised he didn't hit the Russian Ship with nerve gas.

Faugh a Ballagh

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:17 am 

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jemhouston wrote:
I'm surprised he didn't hit the Russian Ship with nerve gas.

Chemicals are the lowest of the no-class weapons. Even if Mr. Smith had them in the inventory, he'd never use them except in retaliation.

Later on ITTL, Mr. Smith will be undertaking a chemical weapons R & D program. His purpose will not to develop operational chemical weapons, but to forestall the U.S Government from doing this sort of thing on its own.

Besides, using chemicals on the Admiral Nakhimov would unnecessarily complicate matters.

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 Post subject: Re: Crime Time
PostPosted: Wed Dec 02, 2015 5:55 am 
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Location: Savannah, GA
Hmmm, interesting. I've looked up the AH thread and slowly chewing through it past the point where you've stopped here. Any interesting discussion before that I should know about?

I also have a feeling that my mental images of Mr. Smith and Ms. Faulkner are not at all as intended, and indeed they probably wouldn't be able to do what they've done in the 20's if they looked like that.

To do much in this life, you must learn much.

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