Alfred F. Jones started at junior college in 1920 and breezed through the first semester, while feeling like nothing in life would be out of reach if he wanted it badly enough.
Summer vacation came around and he travelled back to the elegant white mansion where his wealthy parents lived. He strutted through the front door and loudly announced his presence, only to be told by the housekeeper that they'd gone on an outing.
"Well, tell them I've come home and that I'll be in my room."
"I will, Mr Jones." The woman promised in her heavily accented voice.
"Thanks."
Alfred scaled the stairs and walked through the hall to the room in which he slept as a child. He pushed the door open gently and found that the place had been left just as it was six months before.
He removed his coat and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes and listening to the soft wind outside.
The sound of his father calling his name from downstairs woke him up some time later and he sat up with a start, before realising that it was still day.
He descended the staircase in a rush, believing that some urgent news were in store for him. He stopped halfway when he saw his parents conversing with a stranger in the lobby.
Continuing on his way with more consideration, he tried to get a look at the visitor's face despite his mother and father obstructing the view.
"Ah, Alfred!" His father exclaimed jovially, turning to look up at him. "Come talk to our guest!"
Alfred reached the bottom of the steps and finally had a clear view of the stranger's face. A young man who looked not much older than him stared back with green eyes and raised his hand to wave.
"Alfred, this is Mr Kirkland. He says he just moved in next door from England."
"I'm actually renting. I will only be here for a few months at the longest." Mr Kirkland explained matter-of-factly, but the two middle aged people beside him ignored his words.
"Mr Kirkland, won't you join us for some tea? We always like to welcome new people." Mrs Jones smiled warmly, putting her hand on his shoulder without warning.
"That...that would be a pleasure, madam..." Mr Kirkland said through gritted teeth.
Alfred helped himself to a small slice of cake while his parents paid all of their attention to the Englishman opposite him. For some reason, the way that they were being so hospitable to the foreigner was making him feel neglected.
"How old are you, Mr Kirkland?"
"Twenty three."
"Were you born in London?"
"Yes."
"What made you want to come to New York?"
The rest of the conversation didn't interest Alfred in the slightest and he stopped listening to whatever stories Mr Kirkland wanted to tell. It was only when his father loudly addressed him by his name that he became alert again.
"Alfred, why don't you take Mr Kirkland out for a walk and see him off? You haven't spoken at all this afternoon."
"O-of course, I'll do that, Dad." He said hastily, rising from his chair and watching Mr Kirkland do the same.
He took a step to the side to signal to the Englishman that they were to go out the door first, letting them pass before following and shutting the door behind him.
The two young men strode across the lush lawn together with the older one a little ahead. He stopped to let Alfred catch up before they continued on toward the front gate.
"What's the matter with your mother and father? I just moved into that small house today and they're already treating me like family."
"They're just really nice people, Mr Kirkland. You'll have to get used to it."
"Alfred?"
"Yes?"
"Is there any place around here that serves alcohol? I don't think I could live without having a regular drink."
Alfred was instantly reminded of the prohibition laws his parents once spoke about, and was hesitant to let the new neighbour in on a secret. He relented when they gave him an impatient stare. He spilled the beans, figuring that it wouldn't really do much harm.
"Secretive indeed. Might I ask how you came by such knowledge?"
"Well, my Dad knows some people who sell the stuff. You'll have to keep quiet about it though."
"I shall, and by the way, just call me Arthur. 'Mr Kirkland' makes me feel even older than I already am."
"You look pretty young, though..."
Alfred stopped at the gate and opened it for Arthur, giving a polite farewell as the gentleman departed down the street. He then ambled back to the small room where his parents were still having tea.
He sat down uneasily when he felt their eyes focus on him and looked up to study the expressions on their faces.
"You know, Alfred, it would do you good if you spent more time with someone like Mr Kirkland instead of those lowlifes you call your classmates."
"Even if he's an alcoholic with scruffy hair?" Alfred replied, raising an eyebrow at his father's advice.
"Don't get clever with me, son. Haven't you heard the way he talks?!"
"Oh calm down, darling." Mrs Jones whispered softly, reaching up to stroke her husband's hair. "Think of something pleasant, like that charming young Italian we met last year."
"Charming?!" Mr Jones blurted out as he whipped his wife's hand away. "He was nothing but rude!"
Alfred saw Arthur regularly over the following weeks and observed that the man seemed like quite the loner, going out of his way to avoid conversation whenever possible.
Therefore it came as a surprise one afternoon, when Alfred spied him chatting to a pretty young lady outside his fence. As he distanced himself further away from where the two were, he wondered just what relation they had in common.
Alfred thought nothing much about it until one evening a couple of days later, when the maid answered the door while his parents were out of the house. He rushed down the stairs as soon as she called his name and he paused when he saw that it was Arthur standing outside. The maid stepped out of the way and strode back to the kitchen in order to allow them some privacy.
"Hello, Mr Kirkland."
"Arthur..." The other corrected him impatiently.
"So, what brings you here?" Alfred asked in uncertainty when he had a good look at the worry on Arthur's face.
"It's about Emma. She's the sister of a former acquaintance of mine and she's..."
"She's in trouble?"
"Gone missing, to be more exact." Arthur replied as he entered the house. "I know it may sound unbelievable, but all I did was have one drink and when I turned around, she was no longer there. I looked all over the pub and even waited outside the restroom."
Remembering wise words from his mother, Alfred was quick to pull a chair out for his distressed neighbour and allow them to sit down before seeking additional information.
"How long has she been missing?"
Arthur lifted his wrist and checked his watch.
"Twelve hours...but that shouldn't matter. You need to tell me where the nearest police station is."
Despite Arthur's suggestion being the most logical course of action, Alfred found the idea of seeing the police very unfavourable. He thought of the best way to explain it to the Englishman.
"There's a big problem with that."
"And what would that problem be?!"
"It happened at that speakeasy, didn't it? I can't be sure what would happen to my Dad if they found out he's connected to those guys."
"In other words, your father is involved in an illegal trade?"
"Sort of. He just wants to help bring joy and fun back to the masses. "
"Well then, this problem will be difficult indeed..." Arthur sighed. "Though I did notice one man there who seemed especially sinister. Perhaps I should have been more vigilant."
"What if we don't see that guy here?" Alfred whispered to Arthur once they were in the speakeasy, trying their best to drink as if completely relaxed.
"Then we'll just have to come here another time."
Alfred felt his spirits fall and stared at the clock at the wall. He wondered what his parents were doing and thought of how worried they would be to find that he wasn't at home. He figured that Arthur would do just fine alone and attempted to quietly leave his companion's side, only to be grabbed by the arm.
"Don't leave yet, there he is!" Arthur whispered harshly, dragging Alfred back and pointing to a dark haired young sitting with a woman at a table.
"We shall approach him quietly..."
Arthur casually made his way to where the man was, with Alfred following behind. Their target became aware of their presence when the lady he was with flinched and lifted her head to look their way.
The man turned and stared dirtily at them while apparently motioning for his woman to keep some distance away from that point on.
"Excuse me, sir, but is this seat taken?" Arthur inquired once he was close enough to the young man.
"Yes, I'm waiting for somebody!" The young man hissed in irritation.
He was stunned when Arthur suddenly reached forward, seized him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
"Arthur, what are you doing?!" Alfred cried out when he saw his companion's uncharacteristic act of impulsion.
"You had your eyes on her that whole night! Tell me what you did, or I shall break your nose!"
"I shan't tell you anything, you disgusting Englishman!"
"Well, you're not much better yourself, filthy Italian!"
Alfred watched the violent exchange before him and sensing the effect it had on the atmosphere, was soon compelled to put an end to Arthur's use of force.
"Let him go, there's a better way of doing things!" He shouted as he stepped forward and pulled Arthur away from the stranger.
"And what would that be?!"
"We just talk to him nicely, I suppose..."
"If you think your approach is better, why don't you try?"
Alfred sat down to face the stranger while Arthur continued to stand and decided to begin by introducing himself.
"Hello, my name's Alfred. What's your's?"
"Lovino. Lovino Vargas..." They replied after a long pause.
"This is where you'll find their hideout. We took up base in this country house three months ago." Lovino explained to the two other men, marking a cross on a map he had before giving it to them. Alfred took it and rolled it up carefully.
"So you used to be part of their gang, but you left when you didn't like what they doing anymore?"
"Yes." Lovino affirmed, answering Alfred's question.
"That's actually pretty brave."
The Italian beamed at Alfred's words of praise and took his hand, helping him to his feet. A flicker of recognition flashed in Lovino's eyes when they had a close look at each other's faces.
"I remember, there was a rich woman who was kind to me when I first came here. It felt nice after everybody else was treating me like horse shit."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you remind me of her, though her husband wasn't as pleasant..."
Alfred released his hand from Lovino's and now feeling immensely moved, bent down to coax Arthur up so that they could locate Emma's captors.
It took some struggle before all three men were standing together at the abandoned street corner. Just as he and Arthur were about to depart the place, Alfred turned to Lovino and made one last offer.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us? You could actually be pretty helpful..."
"To be honest, it would be far too dangerous if I joined you. They'd recognise me, but they wouldn't know your faces at all."
"I guess that's a good way of thinking about things. Well, this is goodbye. Come on, Arthur..."
The next hour was spent getting to the Jones estate in the shortest time possible. Upon arriving there, Arthur waited at the gate while Alfred crept across the lawn so that he could quietly borrow his parent's automobile.
Alfred soon drove slowly out through the open gates and stopped to let Arthur in, before rapidly turning and taking off down the street. Arthur was quick to begin criticising his driving ability.
"My God, didn't you see that postbox?!" He screamed at Alfred, after the vehicle very nearly destroyed some public property.
"Nope..."
"Watch out for that tree!"
Alfred swiftly turned the steering wheel and the automobile swerved sharply, coming close to colliding with the footpath on the opposite side of the street. Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Alfred, you drive like a woman..."
"Is that meant to be an insult?"
"Nevermind, I'll take over. You read the map."
Alfred parked by the side of road as carefully as he could and got out to allow Arthur to take his place, while he was handed the map.
"This Emma must be pretty important if a ruthless gang were so desperate to get her." He remarked as he sat down in the passenger seat.
"You could say that she is. She's a rich Belgian heiress, after all."
"Where's she from?"
"Belgium."
"Never heard of that place."
"It's a small European country, but I guess you, as an American, wouldn't care much of it's existence."
"I don't see how you're a better driver..." Alfred complained as he got out of the vehicle and joined Arthur by the white picket fence.
"I'll have you know that I'm excellent!"
"That's not what everybody else thought, when you picked the wrong side of the road!"
Arthur pretended not to hear Alfred's criticism and changed the subject to a more pressing issue.
"Are you sure that this is the place?" He asked in uncertainty as he stared at the plain house before them.
"I'm sure. That guy even marked it with a big cross." Alfred assured him, taking another look at the piece of paper in his hands.
"Well, I guess we can always try."
Arthur stepped up to the front door and knocked twice. A young woman in a formal dress promptly opened it and she peered out at him expectantly.
"Hello? What brings you here?" She said pleasantly.
"Oh, I'm the tax collector." Arthur replied, thinking of something logical as quickly as he could.
"Isn't today a bit early?" The woman asked in confusion.
"Believe me, it's never too early to pay for anything."
Arthur gave a quick wave to signal to Alfred that it was safe to enter the house, before he followed the woman inside. She led him into the dining room and offered him a seat while he told her that Alfred was his assistant.
"You gentlemen may wait here, while I go and find the money to pay." She excused herself as she left the room, tucking a few loose hairs behind her ear.
"So what happens now?" Alfred asked, tapping his fingers in boredom when the woman failed to return.
"We wait a bit longer."
Minutes passed and a loud banging from the floor above caught the two men by surprise. They both stood up from their seats and tiptoed warily towards the staircase. When nothing unusual happened afterwards, they shrugged and returned to the table.
Light footsteps sounded not long after and the woman descended the stairs, now wearing a simple shirt and trousers. She smiled sweetly as she approached and came to a stop, at which she suddenly pulled a gun from her pocket and pointed it at Arthur.
"You thought you could fool me?! I know you're here to foil our plan!" She yelled unflinchingly.
"I don't know what you're talking about, lady..." Arthur said in genuine confusion as he got up and raised his hands instinctively, while Alfred did the same.
"That's Madame Héderváry to you! Now both you get down on the floor, or I'll shoot!"
Alfred saw the barrel of the gun aimed at them and valuing his life, was quick to do as the woman ordered. He was deeply concerned however when Arthur continued to stand as if to taunt her.
"Get down on the floor, or I'll shoot!"
"What's the matter, madam? Are you still upset because I killed your husband?"
"That was you?!" She screamed and slipped her fingers over the trigger.
"Not really. I'm just playing..."
Arthur took a step back and bumped into the chair he was sitting in before. He glanced unflinchingly at Alfred and back at the irate woman in front of him before making a quick grab for it.
As fast as he could, he flung the chair straight at the woman and hit her in the head, sending her sprawling back against the wall. Her gun fell to the floor, releasing a stray bullet that flew upwards and blew a large hole in the ceiling.
Alfred gaped, unsure of whether what he'd seen and heard had actually happened. His eyes wandered over to the unconscious woman who was now lying still on the floor, a large and bloody gash on her forehead.
"I-Is she dead?!" He stammered.
"Hopefully not. Anyway, we should be quiet from now on. You never know who might be above us." Arthur explained, seemingly unfazed as he got down to retrieve Madame Héderváry's gun.
"Of course...it's not like the gunshot would have woken anybody up..."
They crept up the stairs and the loud banging resumed.
Arthur pushed the door open gently with the tip of the gun's barrel and stood back as it swung open, to reveal none other than Emma tied up in a chair in the corner of the room.
She made some muffled sounds of distress through her gag when she saw the two young men. She shuffled forward a little in her chair and frantically turned her head swiftly towards the closet by the wall, as if trying to warn them of something.
Alfred saw her panicked state and felt uneasy when Arthur did not even seem to notice what she was trying to tell them. As a result, he could only watch helplessly as a large man with fair hair and blue eyes burst out from the closet and fired his gun straight at Arthur.
The bullet fortunately missed the Englishman by an inch and he spun around to face his attacker, a look of recognition forming on his face when they met eyes with each other. Alfred didn't know what to expect next.
"Wait, I believe we've met before." Arthur said to the large man. "You're Ludwig, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. How do you know?"
"Don't you remember? We played football together on Christmas in 1914. I was just an innocent lad back then."
"Oh, how thoughtless of me to forget such a happy moment in my life!" Ludwig exclaimed, lowering his gun slightly as he recalled pleasant memories.
In that moment, Arthur took advantage of Ludwig's lapse of concentration and swiftly shot him in the chest without warning.
Alfred's mouth fell open as he watched Ludwig fall stiffly backwards into the doors of the closet, before sliding down to the floor, leaving a large smear of blood against the smooth wood.
"And to think I believed I'd never have to shoot a German again."
The sight of Arthur overwhelmed him from then on and he wondered what the older man had gone through that made him so merciless with potential enemies. He could think of nothing to say in response and was speechless when Arthur coldly urged him to untie the now stunned Emma.
Once she was free and holding on to Alfred's arm for support while she regained her balance, they left the house as quickly as they could. Alfred silently consoled himself with the fact that no one could have heard the loud noises from the isolated property.
"Alfred, I wouldn't have dragged you into this if I knew it would take such a toll on you..." Arthur said monotonously while he cautiously navigated the car along the poorly lit road back home.
"It's all my fault." Emma spoke for the first time since they had left the country house. "If I hadn't gone outside for that smoke, they would never have caught me."
Their journey ended outside the entrance to the Jones estate at sunrise, at which Arthur and Emma departed from the automobile, leaving Alfred to return to the driver's seat. He watched intently as Arthur walked with her down the street with an arm around her shoulder, before he sped into the driveway.
After doing his best to explain everything to his parents, Alfred's father forbade him from seeing Arthur again and pushed him into a temporary job so that the damage to the automobile could be paid for. Alfred reluctantly obliged, knowing that there was no arguing with his father, despite the fact that it wasn't solely his fault.
He worked hard for the remainder of his holidays without even realising when Arthur and Emma had packed and left New York for good. Over time, his memories of the whole incident became vague to the point where it seemed like he had simply imagined the whole thing.
The events of that night were substantiated on the morning he was to return to college however, when he encountered a familiar face on the way out of his street.
"Good luck in the future." Lovino wished him well, stepping aside and tipping his hat to Alfred as he passed by.
"Thanks, mister." Alfred thanked the Italian. "What brings you here?"
"I'm moving into that house over there." The Italian pointed in the distance.
"The one Arthur was renting?"
"What?"
"Nothing." Alfred chuckled, walking on ahead of Lovino and leaving the young man to figure out the connection for himself.