Chapter 136: Drafting The Future

The heavy Mack truck ground to a halt along the wide road in White Plains, its engine idling with a deep, rhythmic thrum. Behind it, the rest of the convoy pulled up along the curb.

​Standing before them was a solid, six-story brick commercial building. Painted across the ground-floor glass windows in fresh, bold gold-leaf lettering was the name: WILLIAMS TRADING CO.

​Jimmy Williams hopped down from the truck’s running board, wiping his dusty hands on his trousers. He looked up at the facade, a wide, proud grin breaking across his face.

​"What do you think, boss?" Jimmy asked, looking over at Ricky. "We got the papers finalized yesterday and got the sign hung first thing this morning."

​Ricky stepped down onto the dirt shoulder, looking the building up and down. "It’s a fine large building, Jimmy. Good location, too—right on the main highway line. It’ll make loading heavy freight in and out of the rear bay a hell of a lot easier than navigating those narrow Greenwich alleys."

​He paused, glancing down the avenue toward a cluster of wood-frame residential houses two blocks over. "Though being this close to the residential neighborhood might prove to be a bit troublesome down the line."

​Evelyn stepped around from the passenger side, smoothing her dark wool skirt. She caught Ricky’s comment and looked over at him with a slight frown. "Troublesome, sir? In what way?"

​Ricky kept his voice casual, speaking with easy common sense. "Well, city planning is changing fast in New York. You look at Midtown or the blocks around Central Park—residential neighborhoods are pulling back, and commercial zones are taking over solid blocks. It makes sense for city growth. It wouldn’t surprise me if local councils eventually start drawing hard lines, keeping factory noise and heavy wagon traffic strictly away from where folks live."

​Evelyn pondered that for a moment, tapping her leather folder against her hand. "Well, if the city ever passes ordinances like that, it won’t be a loss for us. We could always relocate our primary freight bays further out into an industrial patch and repurpose this floor space for retail shops or administrative offices."

​"Exactly," Ricky nodded. He turned back toward the entrance. "Have the boys started setting things up inside yet?"

​"No, sir," Evelyn answered. "We only finalized the property papers yesterday afternoon."

​"And let me tell you, it was a chore," Jimmy chimed in, walking alongside them as they stepped through the front double doors. "My brothers and I spent half the night slapping fresh paint on the walls, hanging those heavy pine doors, and lugging desks and filing cabinets upstairs. I didn’t think opening a front office would be such a hassle."

​Ricky laughed softly, patting Jimmy on the shoulder. "That’s the reality of running a legitimate business, Jimmy. It’s exhausting when you’re carrying the lumber yourself, but the fruit of your labor is well worth it—especially once we start expanding and building branches all across New York."

​Jimmy’s eyes brightened, a proud smile returning to his face. "I agree with you there, boss. When you really think about it, working sixteen hours a day on something that’s actually yours feels completely different from hauling crates for someone else."

​"And remember, Jimmy," Ricky said, stopping near a large oak counter in the main lobby, "this is your family’s company. I hold forty percent of the stake to back the initial capital, but you and your three brothers hold fifteen percent each."

​Jimmy listened attentively as Ricky continued.

​"Down the line, as Williams Trading grows, I’m planning on selling twenty percent of my stake back to the four of you. That way, you, Michael, Sean, and Patrick will own twenty percent each—an equal share in your family business."

​Jimmy looked surprised. "You’d sell back your majority control?"

​"That’s the whole point," Ricky explained in a clear, measured voice. "I want each of you brothers running solid, independent operations that connect into a larger net. Think about it—you run this supply and distribution firm. Michael can set up a heavy steel foundry or a iron plant. Sean can run a raw materials mining firm. Patrick can build an overland logistics line. And I’ll be running an automobile company to manufacture our own heavy motor trucks."

​Ricky looked Jimmy straight in the eye. "I supply your company with motor trucks so you can expand your routes. Marek brings in raw supplies from outer states to feed Michael’s foundry and your distribution hubs. Sean uses Marek’s rail connections to export resources out of state. Every single business we build feeds right back into the others. We create a complete loop where everyone prospers."

​The lingering doubts and quiet envy Jimmy had carried toward Marek Kowalski over the past few weeks vanished completely. His jaw set with firm, renewed loyalty.

​"Thank you for putting your trust in me and my brothers, boss," Jimmy said earnestly, shaking Ricky’s hand. "We won’t let you down."

​"I know you won’t," Ricky said with a nod. "Even when things seem rough in the city, we don’t stop moving."

​He turned back to Evelyn. "So, how is the property coming along up in Pound Ridge?"

​"It’s ideal, sir," Evelyn replied, stepping up beside him. "The farm is completely isolated, surrounded by dense timber, and the access path is narrow enough to stay hidden from the main roads. The farm owner is a bit rowdy, but he’s more than eager to cooperate as long as John keeps him supplied with whiskey."

​Ricky chuckled faintly. "Sounds like an easy deal to maintain. What about the physical grounds?"

​"The basic training courses are nearly finished," Evelyn said. "They have the running tracks, wall climbs, and shooting ranges set up. But John mentioned the boys will need your personal supervision once they start setting up the advanced tactical drills."

​"That’s fine," Ricky said. "I’ll ride up to check on the camp later today, right after my meeting with Mr. Callahan. I also need to make a quiet wire call to Don Martinez so he doesn’t lose his head over my wanted status in the papers, and get word to Madden that I’m clear."

​As they walked down the hallway to inspect the upper floor offices, Ricky glanced around the spacious, clean interior.

​"We need to transfer the remaining office staff from my old firm up here," Ricky instructed. "Have them officially resign from the office, bring them up to White Plains, and hire them under Williams Trading Co. And see if you can find a sharp, trustworthy secretary to run this front desk."

​Evelyn looked up from her notes. "What about your company, sir? What about the Greenwich office?"

​"Atlanta & Pacific Trading Company is in full closure," Ricky said plainly. "Knox and his precinct coppers have their eyes glued to that name anyway. Besides, the original owners are already expanding into our old territory in Greenwich."

​"The Crawfords?" Evelyn asked. "So Mr. Kowalski managed to close that deal? If I recall, we failed during our last negotiations with Miss Sarah Crawford. I’m still developing my skills in that kind of high-stakes bargaining."

​"Don’t sweat it, Evelyn. I gotta admit, it’s mostly my fault." Ricky said smoothly. "But with Marek, he secured a thirty percent equity stake in Crawford Wholesale Company in exchange for giving them a five-year exclusive local supply contract across Greenwich, Chelsea, Soho, and Noho."

​"Thirty percent?" Evelyn’s eyes widened slightly. "That’s a very favorable outcome."

​"It’s practical for both sides," Ricky noted. "The Crawfords are growing fast, but they were short on capital. If they had gone with other suppliers, their wholesale costs would’ve eaten their profits alive. With Harisson & Bell, as their exclusive supplier, they get cheap goods, Marek gets a guaranteed buyer, and we keep a thirty percent thumb on their board of directors."

​He leaned against the window frame, looking out at the street. "Plus, as Crawford Wholesale expands, we can recommend our unemployed boys from Minetta for their warehouse and loading jobs. It solves the joblessness back on our block, and gives Crawford reliable labor. My company doesn’t need to sit on those docks anymore."

​"And where will your main focus be now, sir?" Evelyn asked.

​"The motor truck company," Ricky said, a quiet focus in his voice. "And maybe a publishing house on the side."

​Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. "A publishing house, sir?"

​"Printing illustrated storybooks—comics, serial pulps," Ricky said with a slight shrug. "It’s cheap to mass-produce, easy to distribute, and people always have a nickel to spare for good entertainment."

​"That sounds like a clever venture, sir," Evelyn said, writing it down. "Who do you plan to assign to run the publishing firm?"

​Ricky smiled faintly, turning back toward the stairs. "Anyone with a sharp head on their shoulders can manage a print shop. Running a publishing company isn’t really that hard."