Chapter 53: Robbed
He called the security personnel and instructed them to search the entire villa—inside and out—including the garage and vehicles, to ensure no one was targeting him.
Then, he picked up the phone again and dialed the security outpost where Ryan was stationed.
"Ryan, this is George. There's a situation in San Francisco. It's time to put our training to the test."
"Hmm, should we bring everyone?"
"No, just half the team. Once the issue is resolved, have them remain there and take charge of the bank's security. Meanwhile, continue recruiting personnel here to safeguard all our properties."
"Understood, sir. I'll head over immediately."
After discussing San Francisco's details and arrangements with Ryan, George said, "See you in San Francisco, Ryan."
A knock came at the study door. George gestured for the security guard to enter. The guard reported, "Boss, a remote-controlled bomb was found in the car. It has been defused. Should we notify the police?"
"No need to involve the police. I understand. I'll head to San Francisco tomorrow. You all will stay behind to protect the villa."
"Understood, Boss."
Upon learning about the explosive device in his car, George realized this wasn't a simple bank robbery. It was a premeditated act designed to draw his attention away. Had he driven to the train station, they would've detonated the bomb.
As for involving the police, there was no point. This era lacked surveillance, and the police had a case-solving rate below 12%. Unless a suspect was caught at the scene, the case was unlikely to be solved.
After issuing instructions to the security team, George transformed and flew out of the window, heading straight to San Francisco. Ten hours later, at dawn, George arrived at the Wells Fargo Bank building.
Without notifying Harry, he confirmed the direction and split into forty clones. Each transformed into a sparrow. Two flew toward the police station; the rest headed to the Basini Family estate.
He focused his consciousness on the sparrows at the police station. Seeing that it hadn't opened yet, he let them wait and shifted his attention to the Basini side.
The Basini estate was bustling. In a large hall, an Italian man sat at the head of the room, cigar in hand and a glass of red wine nearby, watching his men enthusiastically discuss.
"This time, it's a small lesson for that kid."
"Yes. He refused to do liquor business with us, costing our family dearly."
"Exactly. While small workshops still supply liquor, getting quality alcohol like before is tough."
"I heard other families make close to $400,000 a month. That's just from liquor—some even built strong political connections."
"The underground restaurant scene also brings hefty income. Our poor liquor quality hurt us badly in that aspect."
"Later, spread news of the Wells Fargo Bank robbery. Let's see who dares deposit money there again. Ha!"
"Alright, that's enough for now. Have the operatives been handled?" Basini asked.
"Don't worry. They're at the manor. Once things calm down, we'll send them home to lie low."
"Hmm. Leave $5,000 for each of them, and confiscate the rest. Any updates from the bank?"
"The bank filed a report. The police were informed they lost five million."
"Heh, sounds like they're trying to shift the loss onto other depositors. But this won't end easily," Basini said, sipping wine.
"Alright, everyone, dismissed. If nothing's happened by now, it's likely we overestimated that kid. Maybe the Jewish Gang's fall wasn't even his doing."
"Heh, yes, Family Head. A boy just into adulthood—how powerful could he be? You rest; we'll monitor the situation."
As they stood, bowed, and exited, George—still a sparrow—had his confirmation. It was indeed the Basini Family. Even if they hadn't done it themselves, they knew about it. That's why George assigned dozens of clones to watch them.
But now that he had proof, vengeance could wait. He wanted to use this to boost Blackwater Security's reputation, not just get revenge.
More information was still needed.
After the room cleared, Basini finished his wine and prepared for a bath and some rest. Though young, he hadn't slept all night.
Just as he rose, pain struck his neck. His vision darkened.
George had appeared behind him and knocked him out. He studied Basini's face, murmured a transformation spell, and two Basini appeared.
The second was George, now transformed. He tied the real Basini, gagged him, and had two clones quietly carry him to a nearby abandoned shack.
Meanwhile, the clone impersonating Basini stepped into the hallway. Subordinates were waiting.
The spell only copied appearances, not memories—unlike the alien Skrulls, who could mimic both. But they wouldn't arrive on Earth until Captain Marvel's era.
Still, this posed no problem. George handed a bottle of fine whiskey from his Chaos Space to a subordinate.
"Take this to my room. I'll have a drink later," he said, retreating into the living room.
Using the sparrows to monitor the subordinate's route, George followed the same path to locate Basini's bedroom.
Before entering, he said, "Tell all bosses and strategists to stay at the manor for a few days. No one goes out. We need to stay low and vigilant."
"Understood, Family Head."
George entered the room, relieved to find it was a single-person setup. A spouse would've made this far riskier.
After checking for secret entrances and finding none, he sat behind the desk.
He arranged for the clone to impersonate Basini over the next few days, then left the manor. It was still early—the bank wasn't open.
So, George refocused on the clone guarding the real Basini.
Basini slowly regained consciousness, bound tightly. He tried to struggle but soon gave up. Just as he tried to lift his head, a voice sounded.
"Mr. Basini, awake already?"
He saw polished leather shoes but couldn't lift his face high enough.
"Who are you? Do you know who I am? Friend, I can pay—just name your price."
Despite his Mafia status, Basini had never been kidnapped. He knew if the kidnapper wanted money and hadn't shown their face, he might survive.
Still, whoever had taken him from his manor wasn't ordinary. Maybe they were going to kill him now?
"Please, I'll pay generously. Just spare me."
"Heh, trying to buy your life—with my money?"
Basini's heart sank. He had a feeling he knew who this was, but kept acting dumb.
"I have my own money. Just let me go. I won't call the police."
"Still pretending?"
George kicked Basini's shoulder, flinging him three meters into the wall. The force was measured—not fatal, but painful.
Basini grunted in pain but quickly shut his eyes.
"Come now, Mr. Basini. Open your eyes. As a Mafia Family Head, don't make me lose respect for you."
Basini thought, 'Please do. Let me keep my eyes shut and live.' But he didn't move.
"Since you insist on being disrespectful, don't blame me."
George retrieved a Colt M1917 revolver from the Chaos Space and spun the cylinder for effect. As the clicks echoed, Basini's eyelids twitched.
"Allow me to introduce myself. You may have heard my name—George Orwell. I think you know why I'm here. I have only one question: besides your family, who else was involved? Tell me, and your suffering ends. Refuse, and you'll take the fall for your friends."
Basini sighed, realizing the act was over. He opened his eyes.
"Mr. Orwell, I swear, I don't know what you mean."
"Still loyal, huh? I wonder—when I destroy your family, will your partners avenge you?"
Basini panicked. "Mr. Orwell, I beg you. I'll give you all my assets. I'm a Mafia Family Head—if you destroy my family, the entire Mafia Council of the U.S. will come after you. That's part of their code."
"Oh? Is that a threat? You robbed my bank. Now I can't even retaliate when I've got the evidence? I heard everything you said to your subordinates!"