Chapter 310 New Umbrella (Part 1)

"It was an afternoon thirty years ago. I boarded a train to Santiago. I went there to do business with Mexicans. On the train, an Italian-American came up to me. He said his name was Ricci and he was from Sicily. We chatted for a while on the train..."

In the study of the Falconet Manor, the old godfather's voice sounded like a faded record. The sunlight shone through the heavy curtains into the room, becoming a little dim. Schiller did not sit opposite him, but sat on the sofa on the other side, cutting the cigar with a cigar cutter.

The cigar smoke was as thick as the layers of clouds on the sunset skyline. In the rolling smoke, some shapes that made people have infinite reverie drifted away, like the unique realistic oil paintings of the last era.

Accompanied by the clanging sound of the train passing the rails, the whistle was stretched, and a man with dark brown hair was sitting in the train compartment reading a newspaper.

With a "click", the compartment door was opened. Another man in a long windbreaker took off his hat and put it on his chest. He bowed his head to one side, greeted the person inside, and said in Italian: "Hello, Mr. Falcone, my name is Ricci, I am from Sicily."

Young Falcone took down the newspaper in his hand, looked at Ricci who walked into the compartment, and said in Italian: "Hello, Ricci, are you looking for me?"

Falcone's Italian accent is completely different from Ricci's. The tail of his tone always sinks. That is the only thing he brought from his hometown of Rome, which makes his tone sound a little indifferent.

Richie didn't care. He walked to Falcone and sat down, then said, "I heard that you came from Gotham and wanted to go to California. I took this train to find you."

Richie had blond hair and brown eyes. His cheeks were a little sunken, and his face was a typical southern Italian. He lowered his head and showed a low posture. He said to Falcone in Italian: "Sir, I come to ask for your asylum. The Rich family has nowhere to go."

Falcone looked at him silently. He stroked the edge of the newspaper fold with his fingers. Richie put his hat on the table and said, "My family and I were involved in a dispute in Chicago. An old British man from the West Coast cheated us with two mines that had been mined to exhaustion, and we owed Fidelio in Chicago a lot of money."

Richie raised his eyes and looked at Falcone with his brown eyes, but he didn't see any emotion in the eyes of the young gangster, which made his next words even less confident.

"The Rich family is unable to repay the debt, but the responsibility is not ours. The cunning British man has left here, but we can't explain to Fidelio why we can't pay back the money..."

"Sir Falcone, my family and I heard that you are famous on the East Coast. We can only come to you to seek a way out. Fidelio is just a dog of the Chicago Mafia boss..."

"I beg you, sir, to save us. The Rich family is willing to pay any price for this..."

The young Falcone put the newspaper in his hand next to the seat. He leaned back on the chair and looked at the scenery that was constantly receding outside the window. He said in Italian with a cold tone: "Fidelio is really nothing. He is just a gangster from Ragusa. If it weren't for his wife, he should still be at the dock, with those dubious people. "…

"But you, Richie...how can you prove that you are more valuable than Fidelio? Fidelio still has a father-in-law who is willing to help him, but what about you? Isn't your Richie family also from the dock smuggling?"

Falcone put one arm on the table, moved his fingers, looked at Richie and said: "Most of the Sicilians who came to the East Coast with you have their own livelihoods in the city, only you are still a stray dog ​​on the East Coast..."

"We all know why you were deceived by the British, because you were eager to join Chicago and find a doghouse for yourself in the city, and when you were kicked out, you came to me again, wanting to join Gotham..."

Richie's face showed a trace of embarrassment, anyone who was exposed like this would feel embarrassed.

But what Falcone said was true. Several families who came to the East Coast at the same time as Richie are now developing in the city. Only they, after suffering a series of blows, don't even have a stable place to live and can only stay in the hotel at the train station.

"Sir, I said, I am willing to pay any price for your acceptance. As long as you can save me and my family, I will be at your disposal..." Richie lowered his head and said.

Falcone took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took out a cigarette and held it in his hand. Richie stood up and leaned over to light it for him. The cigarette light lit up, like a swaying candle in the dim carriage.

"Fidelio is a good dog, and I hope you are too, Richie."

Richie lowered his head and kissed the back of Falcone's hand that was not holding the cigarette, and then said, "As you wish, sir."

The smoke from the cigarette was more like the incense sticks rising from the temple. After the initial rich milky white rising upward, the smoke would gradually disperse and float into a white gauze.

The train window frame framed the silhouettes of the two men into an oil painting. With a click, the door of the carriage closed. No one heard the secret conversation inside. The old godfather didn't want to repeat it. He just commented:

"Over the years, many people have come to me for help. Many of them are not pleasing. They come to me with a lot of money to do business, but I am not a businessman, let alone a killer who does things for money."

"When Richie came to me for help, he had nothing, but it didn't matter. I liked his attitude very much, so we went to San Diego together."

"I have forgotten whether the business with those Mexicans was successful, but on the way back, Richie followed me back to Gotham..."

"At that time, there were no twelve families here, and I was just a leader in the North District of Gotham, but I had a little reputation..."

"Later, I became bigger and bigger. In the North District, East District, Central City, Financial Street... In Gotham, many people began to read my name, and more and more people followed me..."

"Professor Rodriguez, human psychology is really A very wonderful thing. When Richie begged me humbly, he was willing to pay any price to save his life, even at the cost of his dignity and face. "

"But when he followed me to rule the entire Gotham, he forgot all this and felt that he was the founder of this cause. He felt that as one of the first few people to follow me, he should share all the glory and power with me..."...

"At first, he looked down on those latecomers. Although they were much more useful than him, he still felt that he was an elder. He looked down on the Spencer family for coming from the UK, the Lawrence family for being in the salt and iron industry, and even the Greeks with only one daughter..."

"Then, he began to rank and order the twelve families, thinking that those who came first should have more rights than those who came later..."

"Finally, he even felt that as Yin Wens' uncle, he had the power to interfere with his choices and guide him to do things..."

"Humans always like to be better than those who are inferior." Schiller's voice and the sound of the lighter lit the cigar together and slowly put it in his mouth.

"People who have lost everything will be more eager to stand at the top of power and control everything. If they can't do it in reality, they can achieve self-consistency by convincing themselves psychologically that they have stepped on many people."

"And from this, they will develop a personality with extreme control desire. They will want to control everyone who is not as good as them, or who they think is not as good as them, regardless of position, age or seniority, or even height, body shape, appearance..."

"They can get spiritual happiness from belittling and controlling others. When they get used to this way of doing things, everything will start to deviate from the original track, and they will become Extremely arrogant and daring, they dare to do anything as long as they can satisfy their desire for control..."

"But he is not smart." The old godfather continued: "When I first met him, I knew that he was not smart enough."

"But at that time, I didn't care, because all I needed was a dog. The louder he barked, the better, which would show the neighbors that I picked a good dog..."

"But so many years later, when he wanted to become the master, he chose to send his little daughter to Yin Wens' bed. The girl was too stupid because of him, and wanted to win over the new godfather with beauty and love..."

"The person who slept with him should be Alberto, right?" Schiller asked. "Yin Wensi doesn't like to hang out with women."

"That's right, Yin Wensi is more like his mother, stubborn, loyal, and self-disciplined, while Alberto... he is more like me, he doesn't care about these things."

Schiller shook his head and said, "In any case, Richie made a bad move. Even if his daughter is as beautiful as a fairy, she can't shake Alberto. To be honest, even Yin Wensi wouldn't fall for it."

"Indeed, but I'm tired of his stupid tricks again and again. Letting him die at the hands of a mysterious serial killer is the most decent way I can give a dog to die."

"I want to thank this serial killer, otherwise, I will gather everyone together, dig up those old stories and talk about them again, let everyone be troubled by his stupidity, and then let the gunman shoot him, and then, I will listen to his family And the crying of those stupid girls, and cleaning up the bodies and attending the funeral..."

The old godfather exhaled a puff of smoke and said: "I don't have much time left, and I don't want to waste it on mourning for a dog."

"To be honest, the mercenary killer you introduced to me, although the price is very high, is quite efficient. In this era, such a professional killer is rare..."

"Actually, I am a little curious, Mr. Godfather, why don't you use gang killers, but must go out to find mercenaries?"

"Those people in the gang, let them shoot, plant bombs, or poison, but let them imitate serial killers to saw people in half, they can't do such bloody work, and they will definitely go back to their nests like ostriches when they come back, saying that they have some mental trauma, and I have to pay them an extra medical fee..."

Falcone showed a trace of annoyance. He said, "In the second half of my life, my reputation for kindness and tolerance spread too widely, so that it overshadowed my deeds in the early years. This is a good thing, which can allow me to enjoy my old age, but there are always some stupid people who don't know what is good for them..."

Schiller relaxed his body and leaned back in his chair. He slowly exhaled a puff of smoke and said, "Yesterday, the mercenary called me and said that he had received the final payment, and asked me to praise you for paying on time. If you need it next time, call him again."

Falcone pressed the almost finished cigar on the paper and said in a low voice, "Maybe soon, his business will be booming."