Just as Lina took Vibration into the carriage, gritting her teeth and determined to rush overnight to confirm the safety of her treasures, at the other end of the city, in the Grand Theater, Senator Walter was enjoying the music in a luxurious box with an excellent view.
Richmond, as an early-developed and now quite prosperous metropolis, had relatively complete infrastructure for “upper-class entertainment facilities.” Unfortunately, compared to places like New York City, it hadn't cultivated overly famous song and dance troupes or performing artists. Instead, it served more as a “wealthy stop” for touring foreign acts.
Therefore, tickets for performances often fluctuated between “hard to get” and “limited-time offers.”
Fortunately, luxury boxes were usually rented on an annual or quarterly basis at a not-insignificant premium, which was one of the motivations for the theater to actively invite star troupes or masters to perform.
When tickets were “hard to get” for wealthy outsiders or the middle class, inviting interested guests to one's own box to enjoy the performance together was actually a way for local wealthy people or important figures to display their status and improve their relationships.
However, compared to those who were keen to flaunt their artistic taste or genuinely loved performing arts, the reason Mr. Walter regularly appeared here was primarily for work convenience.
Thus, subordinates who understood the situation knew that he didn't mind being disturbed at this time. One subordinate knocked on the door and spoke, then, after being permitted, stepped onto the soft carpet and entered the box.
Tonight's performance was classical opera, the kind with several male and female high, middle, and low-pitched singers standing in front of the symphony orchestra. The main point of appreciation wasn't on the “visuals.”
Mr. Walter didn't open his eyes, still half-reclined in the soft chair, and simply asked indifferently, “How are things going?”
“At the Cathedral, it seems they've obtained enough evidence from that Detective Agency. But according to our analysis, the assassination investigation can currently only be traced back to me through those subordinates at most; it won't have any direct impact on you, sir.
“After failing to destroy the evidence, I've changed my strategy as per your instructions and will no longer be lenient with that Detective Agency. I've already made arrangements. As soon as the time comes late tonight, actions will be launched simultaneously in both locations. The plan…”
Mr. Walter raised a hand when he heard this. “I don't want to hear the details. Since you're coming here at this time, have you encountered a problem?”
The subordinate lowered his head slightly: “That Frank merchant from before escaped the ambush. This time, several of his bodyguards were very professional, and we suffered several casualties. It seems unfeasible to use his identity to incriminate that Detective Agency.
“Moreover, my people discovered that many people are secretly monitoring that detective's movements. Among them, the identities of two individuals surprised us; their source points to the Fisk Family—it's highly likely they were directly dispatched by Samuel Fisk.”
Seeing Mr. Walter open his eyes and look over, the subordinate quickly added, “According to our investigation, Samuel Fisk's young daughter is currently studying at the 'Academy' and is in the same year as that detective. They also have some semi-public private interactions.”
The box was quiet for a while. Mr. Walter's finger slowly tapped on the armrest of the chair, but quickly stopped again:
“The operation remains unchanged, but try not to actively attack Samuel Fisk's people, unless they also get in the way. He's not an openly declared fiancé; Samuel Fisk may not value Wayne that much.
“Have the people carrying out the operation bring voodoo items. If they get into a fight with them, lead the Fisk Family towards the Underground Railroad.
“As for that Detective Agency, do it cleanly; don't let anyone bite back again. How many of them die is secondary; we must make others understand that our people are not outsiders who can be easily investigated. Otherwise, other wild hyenas, if they smell blood again, will be more easily incited.”
“Yes!”
The subordinate received clear instructions and immediately turned to leave. The door of the luxury box was gently opened by him again, but it didn't close quickly, as if time had stopped.
Mr. Walter noticed something was wrong, turned his head, and saw a person wearing red gloves standing outside the door, coldly confronting his subordinate. His slightly corpulent body almost completely blocked the doorframe.
Judging from the corners of the clothes visible on both sides of the doorframe, he wasn't the only one outside.
Mr. Walter's pupils constricted, and he cautiously stood up, “Peter Clemenza? What does Corleone mean by sending you? Where are the guards? Come quickly!!!”
“Don't worry, I'm not here to lay a hand on you.”
As he spoke, the subordinate quickly fell and was then dragged out by the person outside the doorframe.
After the man in the black leather coat entered the box, his face had already regained a lively expression, looking like a harmless, cheerful Fat Man :
“The Bishop arranged for Tom to go out and relax tonight, but unfortunately, we couldn't get tickets, so we just told Tom about your generosity. You wouldn't mind sharing your box with him, would you?”
“What is Corleone trying to do?!” Mr. Walter demanded.
“Shh! Just preparing to handle some internal church matters. Tom doesn't know about tonight's events yet; he'll think he's here to inquire about information from you, Mr. Walter. You'd best not mention my visit to him.”
A person who usually looks cheerful, once their face loses its smile, often appears unhappy. “Or I can accompany you, but in that case, you probably won't be able to leave on your own after the opera ends.”
Mr. Walter did not back down, “Violating rules by threatening secular people, Corleone has clearly overstepped! Not to mention the political and military circles, even the Holy See's council of bishops would not permit such behavior.”
The other party shook his head slightly, gently wiping his deep red gloves on his black leather coat, leaving an unidentifiable watery mark:
“This isn't a threat. The Bishop said he would abide by the convention and his promise, but in an emergency, he wouldn't mind accidentally harming those who get in the way. You'd best cooperate.
“I'm still very busy tonight. You can state your position now. The Bishop told me that he is still willing to trust your credibility and will not play those unhelpful little tricks after making a promise—you should understand what the Bishop means and will pay attention to your words and actions.”
Mr. Walter frowned, attempting to confirm, “Where are my bodyguards?”
The other party did not answer; everything was implied.
His backside sank back into the chair. After a few probes, Mr. Walter already had a vague guess about the overall situation:
“I will watch the entire performance here, but this matter won't end so simply. America is not the Old Continent, and the Church is far from the Holy See of yesteryear.”
A few seconds later, the door of the luxury box was gently closed by the person guarding outside. No one responded to his statement.
