His assistant's words echoed in the room, and for a moment, there was silence. Mr. Rockefeller looked at his assistant with a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"What did you just say?" he asked, his voice cold and menacing.
The assistant was writhing in pain, his face contorted with agony. "I'm sorry, sir. He got the best of me," he managed to gasp out between breaths.
Rockefeller's eyes narrowed as he realized what had happened. "Who was it?" he demanded.
The assistant hesitated for a moment before answering. "It was a private investigator, sir. He was snooping around in your office."
Rockefeller's face twisted into a scowl. "A private investigator? Who could have hired him?"
"You have a lot of enemies in the business, Mr. Rockefeller so it will be difficult to track it down. Sir, what should we do? I should have pulled the trigger when I had the chance."
Rockefeller's scowl deepened as he considered his options. The situation was dangerous, and he knew he couldn't let this investigator live. Because if he does, then all of his words would be done for.
"We have to take care of that private investigator. Considering that you just called means that he got away, meaning he is still in New York. I want you to task your crew and find that private investigator."
"How many would you wish to deploy, Mr. Rockefeller?"
Rockefeller paused for a moment, considering the question. "I want all available resources at our disposal. Spare no expense," he said finally. "This is a matter of utmost importance, and I will not tolerate failure."
The assistant nodded, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up. "Understood, sir. I'll get right on it."
Hanging up the phone, the assistant breathed raggedly as he tried to fight the pain that was racking his body. He knew that failure was not an option, especially not when it came to Mr. Rockefeller's orders. He grabbed the telephone again and dialed a number.
The assistant told the operator the details of the person he wanted to get in touch with and waited for a while. A few moments later, his call got connected.
"This is Mr. Rockefeller's assistant, we have a situation on our hands. A private investigator just stole something important and I want you to task your crew to find him. He just left the office for about five minutes so he is still nearby."
"Rules of engagement?" a gruff voice asked on the other end of the line.
"Do whatever it takes to get that information back. Mr. Rockefeller wants this taken care of discreetly and swiftly, and he is not concerned with collateral damage." The assistant said firmly.
There was a pause before the voice on the other end responded. "Understood. We'll get right on it. But it won't be cheap, you know that, right?"
"I don't care about the cost," the assistant replied, "just get it done."
The line went dead, and the assistant slumped back in his chair, exhausted.
"Looks like I have to go to the hospital."
***
Meanwhile, in the streets of New York, Jack Davis was still running through alleys, getting as far as possible from Rockefeller's Office. He stopped momentarily and looked back over his shoulder to see if someone was following him. There was none, and so he resumed running.
Now that he has a ledger in his possession, he just has to deliver it to Pittsburgh. But there are no ferries operating at this hour that can get him to New Jersey and the first train to Pittsburgh is four o'clock in the morning.
This means he will be stuck in New York for about five hours.
"Wait…" he muttered under his breath. He realized something crucial just now.
"Mr. Nielsen's partner is in New York, right? That means I just have to deliver it to him."
And if he can give it to Mr. Axelsen, then that means he doesn't have to go all the way to Pittsburgh.
The problem is, where can he find him? Before accepting the job, Jack conducted research on his client. Mr. Axelsen was in charge of constructing a metro station in New York but it wasn't mentioned where he was staying. It could be in one of the luxurious hotels in New York but going through them one by one is going to be a hassle and takes a lot of time making the decision of waiting for five hours a more feasible idea.
Jack pondered again, this time, he thought of another one. Ms. Caroline Dupont. Now that he thought about it, Ms. Caroline Dupont was business partners with Mr. Axelsen and Mr. Nielsen. And the good thing is, he knows where to find Ms. Dupont. If he can get to her and ask for Mr. Axelsen's address, then that means the work is done. What's more, her store is simply down the street as it is situated on Broadway.
Jack prepared himself for another run, getting out of the alley and into the main street. Upon arriving there, he saw two individuals across the street pointing at him.
Jack's eyes narrowed as the two individuals reached for their holsters. He didn't need to be a genius to figure out that they were after him. Quickly, he turned around and started running in the opposite direction.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind him as he raced through the streets, zigzagging between horse-drawn carriages and people. The men chasing him were closing in, and Jack knew that he had to find a place to hide.
He spotted an open door and darted inside, slamming it shut behind him. He found himself in a dark hallway, and he could hear the sound of his pursuers' footsteps getting closer.
Jack looked around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. There was a door on his left, and he pushed it open. It led to a small room with a window, and Jack quickly crawled under a desk. He held his breath as he heard the door open, and the men entered the room.
They searched the room where he was hiding and Jack kept his mouth shut.
"Shit…" he cursed under his breath. Rockefeller's goons were too fast to track him down.
"He is hiding somewhere," one of the men said. "Locate him."
"This is going to be a huge cashout for us," his partner said back as they walked around the room Jack was hiding.
His heart pounded as he heard the heavy footsteps getting nearer and nearer. A moment later, he saw a revolver glinting in the dim light.
And then, the man holding the revolver peeked under the desk where he was hiding.
"There you are," the goon said.
