The Reign: King of the City, #2

By James Farner

“I’m not guilty.”

It’s 1907 and David Kelly is in the throes of opium addiction. Like thousands of other New Yorkers, he whiles away his days in the embrace of the opium pipe. Only a sudden attack on his hideout and the intervention of his best friend Ben Portnoy saves him from losing himself forever.

Determined to fulfil his ambitions of ruling New York, David joins the most powerful Irish gang in the city, the Hudson Dusters. But his activities put him in direct conflict with Ben’s own gang and men far more powerful than himself.

With their friendship strained and the return of the love of his life, Sarah Portnoy, David doesn’t know how he’s going to balance his friends, his ambitions, and his love.

Just one fateful decision will set David on a course from which there’s no turning back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Farner
• Release date: Oct 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540185075

Book preview

Part 1

Prologue

1904

Monk Eastman followed a young man down a crowded New York Street. For twenty minutes Monk stalked him. He clenched his teeth and his eyes never left his back. His target captivated him so much he had forgotten the name of the street. The boy hadn’t turned around once since the stakeout began.

The boy’s suit was of a better cut than anyone else’s in the neighbourhood. It hung on his lanky frame like it was tailored by a robber baron’s haberdasher. The suit had a singular purpose in life, bound to a single man at a single point in his life. Monk had picked it out immediately as the boy got off at a train station, one of his favourite haunts.

His associate Zwerbach could handle everything else. Monk wanted this one for himself. The Eastman Coin Collectors gang wanted to send a message to any rich dandy who entered their territory.

The young man halted for a second.

Monk did too. His flabby, round face stopped twanging like a piece of rubber.

Has my prey finally realised there’s someone waiting for him?

Monk pressed himself against the wall and turned his head this way and that, as if trying to pick a friend out of a crowd. Each time his head swung back towards the young man, he wouldn’t allow his eyes to settle for a moment. Even a novice would bolt whenever someone looked at them for a half-second too long. Monk had lived on the streets long enough not to have made such an amateur mistake.

The boy began to move again. He passed a construction site where one of the new mega buildings reached towards the sky. Someone in his gang with connections to the New York mayor’s office might have used the term skyscraper. Monk didn’t like them. They eliminated the collection of alleys and shadowy doorways he loved.

Monk shook his thoughts away.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

His target started to quicken his pace as he turned into another crowded street. He could smell the danger in the air, rising above the stink of the sewers and the sweetness coming from the sticky orange stalls. As the blondish boy slipped down another side street and onto another main street, Monk slowed again.

He couldn’t supress his smile and his palms sweated with delight. Sometimes his targets would lose their minds with paranoia, only to slow down after turning a couple of corners. The sniff of safety. As if that would keep Monk from getting his pay.

He began to close the gap between them. Monk’s nostrils flared outwards like a bat’s wings. If he had a baseball bat, he could reach out and touch him on the shoulder now. The dotted texture of the suit’s fabric caught his eye. He knew he had picked a winner.

One more turn into a side street and Monk whipped out his knife with the serrated edge. Throwing the boy against the wall, he pressed the knife to his throat.

Give me everything you got, if you know what’s good for you. Monk’s voice came smooth and without a tremble.

Please, don’t hurt me. The boy stood on his tiptoes as he tried to back away through the brick wall behind him.

Give me everything and I won’t touch you.

The boy’s hands began to reach for his pockets.

A smirk danced on Monk’s thick lips when a shout stunned him and two hands on his shoulders made him pull away. He attempted to slash at his assailants, but stopped. They both had revolvers; one aimed at his ample stomach and the other his face. He tightened his grip on the knife as his hands started to shake.

So who wanted you to whack me?

Whack you?

Don’t play dumb with me. You know who I am. So, who was it? Was it the Irish or the Italians?

His attacker with a bowler hat and pencil thin moustache shook his head. We’re from no gangs here. We’re just here to protect the boy from people like you.

Terrence –

Keep silent, Terrence said to the boy. We won’t let him harm you. Your parents told us to follow you in case anything happened to you. I know you wanted to do things on your own, but your mother and father insisted.

Monk bit his tongue. How could this have happened to him? The great Monk Eastman, leader of one of the biggest gangs in New York, cornered by some college kid’s bodyguards. This couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t happen.

Monk lunged forward with the knife. A gunshot went off and Monk hit the ground stomach first.

We were serious. Terrence pointed the revolver at the downed figure. You attempt to hurt us and we will kill you where you stand. That was a warning shot.

Monk’s hands shook as he lay on the ground. Terrence hadn’t aimed the bullet at him. It had now probably lodged itself in an iron girder in the distant construction site. He let go of the knife and let it fall onto the sidewalk. They’d beaten him.

Kill me, then. Monk ejaculated a globule of spit.

Terrence jumped backwards. Maybe in your world that’s what you do, but not us. We’ll turn you over to the police. They’ll decide what to do with you. Martin, go and fetch an officer I saw one around the corner.

Monk closed his eyes and lay face first on the ground. In areas like Hell’s Kitchen, officers of the law wouldn’t dare attempt to patrol the street. Someone would assault them and steal their uniforms. Even large patrols didn’t guarantee any safety.

The officer who eventually came slapped handcuffs around his wrists and hauled him to his feet again. Monk didn’t pay attention to the taunts or the insults he received from the officer. Everyone knew his face. This foot patrol would probably find himself with a promotion after he brought him in.

They soon transferred him to the nearest police station and put him through the humiliating ritual of answering extremely basic questions and posing for a mug shot. Through the windows and around the corners, he could see other policemen coming to gawp.

Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Why don’t you come in here and look, instead of hiding around corners like a few dumb kids?

They allowed him a single visitor. It wasn’t one of his high-ranking members. They weren’t able to get past the guards in case he passed them instructions for the outside. He chose Adam Baker, a young Jew with a permanent squint, who lived below Zwebach’s mother. His sheet revealed a short foray into petty crime and nothing more. It made the boy perfect. The police didn’t know him.

Adam gave him a short embrace. I came as fast as I could, Monk. How are you?

I appreciate you doing this for me. These pigs don’t know what to do with me, you know? They think I’m some crook who’s going to play their little game. No way. I’ll have my lawyer right on their arses, and then I’m going to bust them.

Adam smiled at him. Sure, Monk, you’ll be out in no time at all. All the boys think so. I mean I don’t know most of them, but Zwebach thinks you’re good. It’s just going to take them time to go through the evidence and for your lawyer to fix it right.

Yeah, yeah, you’re right, but it’s a problem. Me going away for a while isn’t what we need right now. We’ve got the Italians and the Irish breathing right down our necks. I need to get messages out, but they won’t let any of my boys in. They won’t say why, but I know. They think they’ve got me beat. That’s why I wanted you here.

Sure, sure, I’ll do anything for you. You know that.

Monk smiled. Adam wasn’t strong enough to become part of a gang and carry out anything in their name. He came with too much of a liability, and he scared easily. His value boiled down to carrying messages and picking up on rumours Monk couldn’t discover personally.

I need you to start visiting me, regular like. Bring me some chocolate or something like that. A gift to make it look like you’re my long lost cousin or something like that. Anything without getting too fancy. They’ll let you in and we can visit with each other. And you read scripture?

What, you mean like write it and know what it says?

Sure. The highest level of Jewish scholarship. These pigs don’t know the first thing about our people. We’ll use it against them. Now, if I’m going to be away you tell everyone Zwebach’s in charge for now. He can get some of the others to help him, but I want him to take responsibility. He’s the new man in charge.

Got it.

Bring me anything that needs writing down in scripture. Hebrew lettering. It doesn’t matter how long or short they are. We can’t take any risks here.

Sure thing. Do you think I can get in good with the gang? Adam leaned forward. I’ve really been wanting to work with you guys for a real long time.

Monk already anticipated this question. Adam took any opportunity to bring it up. Monk would never make him an official part of the gang, but he needed him now. Leading him on was for his own good. The boy was inept. The chances are he would end up dead or get someone killed sooner or later.

Taking Adam’s hand, he clamped it between his. You have my word of honour as a Jew. You do it right and I’ll make it official. This is your big chance.

Adam’s face lit up. Thanks, Monk, I’ll do whatever I can. I’ve got everything. I’ll come back tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, or the day where they let me in again.

You do that. Do a good job and you’ll get what you want, remember.

Adam tripped over the leg of the chair and had to reach out for the door. He scrambled out of the room, making as much noise as he could.

Monk leaned back in his chair. Everything would turn out right in the end. He was Monk Eastman and nobody could stop him. The law didn’t realize how powerful he really was. The law didn’t realize this was an occupational hazard and he would be back on the streets within a week.

Monk Eastman didn’t realize this time next week he would begin a five-year prison sentence.

Chapter One

David Kelly trudged through the streets clutching his stomach. Abdominal pains slammed into him again like an iron bar. They came back every few days. He stumbled, doubled over, like an old man. At only thirty-one New York had reduced him to this. It was no secret why this happened. Everyone blamed the opium.

He’d recently left his opium den, which he ran with his business associate and friend John Rozzolo. John rarely came around these days, though. He was much too busy with his other business dealings to have time for a mere opium den. That was David’s job. And a sweet one it was. All that opium for himself. He could take as much as he liked whenever he liked.

David stopped next to a group of trash cans. He opened his mouth ready to vomit but nothing came out. When he got his breath back, a new wave of aching overtook him.

Why won’t you shut up? David muttered to his stomach.

His stomach rumbled again in protest.

By the time David made it back to his apartment in the Hell’s Kitchen district of New York, sweat dribbled down his back and he couldn’t press the key into the lock. He gritted his teeth and kicked the door.

Hey, hey, what’s going on here? Benjamin Portnoy came up the stairs behind him with an armful of groceries.

Nothing.

Come on, are you having trouble working the door again?

David sighed. Please, not today. I don’t want to discuss this with you.

Whatever. I’m not here to make you talk about anything. You do what you want. What I’m saying is you need to be able to do basic things like opening your own door. Ben clawed the key from his hand and unlocked the door. You see?

David’s temperament sizzled. Ben acted like he’d become infirm. He wasn’t stupid. It was his body that wouldn’t listen to him. It was like he had no control over it.

So aren’t you going to invite me in?

David breathed heavily. What for?

Business. Ben placed his foot inside the door to stop it from closing.

Can’t it wait? I’m tired.

No. Ben shoved one of his legs inside.

Sweet mother of Christ, alright, fine. David flung the door open.

Ben entered David’s crappy apartment. It was bigger than the one he’d lived in with his parents so long ago, but it was nothing when compared to the place John lived in. David had always wanted to have what John had. Yet it danced just out of reach. Sometimes he settled into being grateful he wasn’t starving to death with the groups of homeless kids stalking the streets.

David wrung his hands together and began pacing the length of a kitchen table with chunks taken out of the sides of it. So what do you want?

Relax, man. It’s no problem. David’s sofa squealed when Ben flopped down on it. Only I got some news for you, and you may not like it.

Oh, so there are problems now. Nothing ever is quiet, is it?

Figure of speech. Only I’ve been doing really well with my business, and I was thinking about going away with it.

What? That protection money is really doing any better? The people must have got rich around here.

Ben covered his face with his hands. No need to have such an attitude. I think you should take a vacation. Go somewhere nice for a while. It might make you a little happier.

David shook his head. It doesn’t matter.

It does matter, and so for your information we’re expanding. The Lower East Side and Hell’s Kitchen are in our pockets. John’s really backed us up with some muscle here. It’s real enterprising.

Well, you always said it would.

David had nothing to do with Ben and John’s protection rackets that spanned Hell’s Kitchen and the Lower East Side. He had never brought it up, but he knew why they didn’t want him.

Ben laughed. You’re right there. I’m the best when it comes to business. Shame you Irish aren’t on my level.

David snarled. And what’s that supposed to mean?

Whoa, whoa, I meant nothing by it.

Oh...yeah. I get it. Sorry.

Gees, calm down a little. All I came here to say was that I’m moving back to the Lower East Side. It’s where we’re expanding since John and his friends took over. You remember Twister, don’t you? When we took him out John’s guys took over. It’s great.

So you’re...not staying here anymore?

Nope. Not staying here at all.

David’s insides twisted like jelly. He was going to live alone. He’d always liked that Ben lived in the same tenement building as he did. What would he do now?

Come on, man, what’s wrong with you? Ben eyed his silence.

What’s wrong with me? David jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. Nothing’s wrong with me, only that you’re leaving me here to go off with John and whoever else. Ned left us to go off to Brooklyn or wherever it was last year. There’s nobody left. Thanks really.

Ben’s face dropped. I didn’t think you cared that much.

David’s face grew hotter. Yeah...well, now you do.

This is a big opportunity for me. I have to go. I can’t go anywhere if I keep hanging around Hell’s Kitchen for the rest of my life. There’s nobody here who’s ever made it big living here.

You go for it. Don’t bother about me. It’s got nothing to do with me. You send me a letter or something like that. David paused as his stomach twinged again. So what are you meant to be doing, anyway?

The same thing as now, as far as I know, but on a bigger scale. John said he might have something interesting for me, as well. You can’t really tell with these people. As long as it’s an opportunity I’m fine with it.

David nodded and slumped into one of his kitchen chairs. Pulling out a half-crumpled cigarette from inside his jacket, his hand shook as it tried to position the match to the flame.

Ben’s hand enveloped his and held it steady. The cigarette took and David breathed out a long stream of smoke.

You need to get your life together, man. You can’t go on like this forever or you’re going to end up dead. Before you got into opium you were so different. You were good at what you did and then you –

And then I was all this and all that. Give it a rest. I’ve had enough of you going on at me all the time about this. I’m fine. I go a bit overboard sometimes. No problem. I’m not starving and I’m still bringing money in. That’s all that matters.

Ben shrugged. That’s all I need to tell you, then. I’ll be moving out tomorrow. Some of the boys will come round for the stuff. We good? Ben extended his hand down to him.

David looked at it from the chair. Ben didn’t know how much he hurt him by abandoning him. There was part of him that wanted to ball up that emotion and use it to smash him in the face with it. But what would be the point? Ben could probably take him these days. He was so weak. David submitted, shook his hand, and bid him goodbye.

––––––––

He couldn’t help but watch the men take out Ben’s belongings. There were more possessions than he had, but still nothing fancy. They’d started out as equals and Ben had surpassed him.

David couldn’t look at the emptying of the flat for much longer. He needed some relief, and he only knew one place where he could get that. He trudged through the streets that evening picking out the buildings until he came upon what had once been an abandoned house. It was where he’d met his first gang. Its members had since scattered to find lives of their own. He was the last one left.

John had funded most of the renovation work and they’d created a bustling opium den. Neither of them ran the den themselves. They kept the money and nothing more. A host of Chinese ran the shop.

The Chinese population had ballooned in New York over the last few years to form Chinatown. Allen Street separated Ben’s new home on the Lower East Side with Chinatown. Those who weren’t part of Chinese tongs hired themselves out to work in dens like this. John consistently found a stream of Chinamen to work here; it was about the only thing he did do consistently these days.

Mr. Kelly, sir, welcome. Wi ran out from behind his counter in a mustard yellow robe.

Yeah, me again. David held his hand out, whilst Wi clasped it with both hands.

You want the same?

Same as every other night.

Wi removed David’s jacket and led him over to his favourite spot behind a shroud of velvet curtain with tears on the bottom of it. A pile of cushions and pillows inside surrounded the pieces of the opium equipment. Wind chimes tingled in the background.

David knew the procedure from start to finish. He could make up his own pipe if he wanted to, but he preferred to have someone else do it for him. It made him more relaxed. He could imagine himself a customer.

You need to rest?

Could say that. David lay down on his side on the pillows.

Here. You smoke.

Wi placed the pipe in front of his face and held the other end. Wi dipped it slightly as he tried to take it in his hands. He sucked one, two, and three times. The fumes massaged his throat and made his head light. It tasted like sucking in gassy honey at times. A weight pressed on the top of his head and his eyes bulged outwards as his body sank into a doze.

Wi relaxed him by massaging the top of his hip and his back. The light blows resembled Wi playing a strange kind of human xylophone down the side of his body.

David gave out a little cough and descended into his opium paradise again, his favourite world. Nobody could disturb him there and nothing could go wrong.

Why can’t I stay here forever?

––––––––

Sometime later he awoke with the pipe between legs. It had long since burned out and Wi had disappeared. The sound of Chinese strings being plucked somewhere in the back coaxed him out of his stupor. He sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. The webbing around his mind cleared enough to let him crawl to his feet.

He crawled through his curtains and began trawling the aisles. Behind curtains of various colours, men just like him reached different stages of the opium high. Some dreamed alone and some received massages.

Where have you got to, Wi?

David’s head still ached like someone pressed against both sides of it. He needed air. Yes, the night would get him back to normal again.

Mumbling a farewell to whomever managed the front desk, he stepped out into the open. Only tiny gas lanterns cut through the darkness. They flickered and sometimes barely illuminated more than a few feet of fog rolling in from the Hudson River.

Tightening his jacket around himself, he began to make his way down the street. Everything looked the same at this time. The buildings all had lights on inside and the homeless started to bed down for the night around the ventilation grates, belching steam into the cool night to keep their guests warm. He could feel their eyes upon him as he moved past.

David turned a corner and someone swung him around by the back of the coat and his face met the wall. Something metallic slammed into his face. His lips burst like a pair of cherry tomatoes. The silhouette of the man moved over him and began kicking his ribs.

He tried to cover up and protect his pockets, but the man made no attempt to rob him. As a final kick drove the air out of him, he vomited onto the paving stones.

That’s what you get, you lush. Stay out of our business. This is our neighbourhood now. The man’s voice grated like an unoiled machine.

David rolled his eyes into the back of his head. He tried to get something out, but any sound he managed earned him another blow. He kept his mouth shut and waited for his attacker to depart.

The man’s silhouette disappeared. Climbing to his feet again, he wiped the blood away from his nose and mouth. Tiredness dropped over him like night crushing day into submission. He couldn’t muster any anger. His body cried for sleep. David cursed to himself and he began using the walls as walking sticks to return home.

Chapter Two

Golden sunlight broke through his window and roused him from sleep. David opened his eyes and tried to move his face. It felt stiff and frozen. Pressing the pads of his fingers to it, he pulled back with a hiss.

David rolled out of bed. Things had moved