As tension etched Jordan’s features.
Charlie, who had maintained a quiet vigil, instantly discerned the growing rumble of a motorcycle engine drawing
nearer. It was heading their way.
In that charged moment, Hogan grasped the gravity of Jordan’s potential entanglement.
His voice turned stern as he demanded, “Jordan, lay it bare. Who have you crossed?”
Conceding that the truth could no longer be masked, Jordan, resigned, began, “Uncle Hogan, these folks here
belong to a fresh gang making waves in New York…”
Hogan interjected, “Debt collectors, are they?”
Jordan hastened to clarify, “No, Uncle Hogan! They’ve just laid claim to Chinatown two days past. Now they’re
squeezing folks for protection money, three grand a month. If you don’t pay up, they rough you up and threaten to
ransack your store.”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtFurrowing his brows, Hogan inquired, “Hasn’t Chinatown always been run by Chinese syndicates? The fee’s been a
mere three hundred a month for the past few years. Why this sudden usurpation?”
Jordan sighed, weariness settling in, “Chinese gangs ceded it to them last week after a fierce showdown and heavy
losses. Big Vigo has thrown in the towel and handed Chinatown over…”
This revelation caught Hogan off guard.
He probed further, “What’s the story with this new gang? It’s only been a month since they’ve started yapping
about three grand. Sounds rather fishy, doesn’t it?”
Jordan’s voice bristled with frustration. “Who’s denying that! We toil from dawn till dusk in these stores, paying rent
and working under the table since we lack legal status to foot the bills. You’re overseeing it all
and after all’s said and done, you’re only scraping together a few grand a month. They want three thousand,
essentially turning everyone into their indentured servants!”
Hogan queried, “Who’s behind this new gang?”
Jordan responded, “They go by the name ‘Burning-Angel’. Mostly African-Americans with a sprinkling of Latinos
from Brooklyn and downtown. Word is, they’re backed by Italians. The Italians are slowly fading into the
background, pulling the strings but keeping out of the fray. They’d rather let these ruthless African-Americans run
the show…”
“Did they inflict those wounds on your face?” Hogan pressed.
“Yes,” Jordan’s voice was edged with resentment. “They came to collect their ‘protection’ money. I couldn’t cough
up the sum, so they beat me down. They’ve given me until tonight. If I don’t produce the cash, they’ll ransack the
store.”
“Have you contacted the police?” Hogan’s tone carried a mix of anger and concern.
“I did,” Jordan’s posture slumped. “But it’s no use. You know the deal in New York. The police focus on the affluent
areas. They came, gave it a cursory glance, and told me they couldn’t locate anything.”
Annoyance flared in Hogan’s eyes. “It’s utterly unreasonable!”
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmJordan’s voice held a tinge of hopelessness. “I called them, told them they’d be back. The police said there aren’t
enough officers to keep tabs here. They told me to call as soon as I spotted them. Dial 911 for the police, but what
good does it do? If they roll in with guns blazing, I’d be eight ways to dead before the cops showed up.”
With a sigh, Jordan continued, “They’re American citizens, we’re undocumented. The American police couldn’t care
less whether we live or die…”
As he spoke, the motorcycle’s roar reached the doorstep of the roast goose shop, and Jordan’s nerves ratcheted
up.
He implored Hogan and Jagoan, “Uncle Hogan, Mr. Jagoan, hurry upstairs!”
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