Chicago, February 14, 1929
Click, clack, click, clack. Beatrice Prior's oxford pumps sounded like a typewriter as she hurried down the frozen Chicago street. She was dressed for a job interview in a drop-wasted grey wool dress with a matching blazer. Heavy tights protected her legs from the elements, and a worn but serviceable black overcoat warmed the rest of her. Her ensemble was completed by simple black gloves, a cloche hat, and a small handbag that contained very little.
It's so cold! she thought to herself. I should have worn boots, or at least thrown on some galoshes. But she hadn't had time to worry about footwear. Beatrice had to sneak out of the house when she could. Her parents, Andrew and Natalie Prior, were members of a conservative religious order called Abnegation. In their world, one lived simply and by old-fashioned values. The Priors did not own a car or have a telephone or victrola in their apartment. Beatrice and her brother, Caleb, were not allowed to attend dances, and Beatrice was never allowed to wear makeup on her pale skin, or bob her blonde hair in the popular fashion. To the Priors, young ladies did not work outside the home unless the situation was desperate. Proper young people lived quietly and modestly, attended church every time the doors were open, and married young to produce another generation of the same.
Caleb had followed that path. Selflessness came easy to him, or so it seemed to Beatrice. Caleb had married his first girlfriend, Susan Black, a modest young woman from another Abnegation family. They lived in an apartment near the Priors, and were expecting their first baby in the spring.
Beatrice was eighteen, and had just finished high school the summer before. Her parents were concerned that she had never expressed interest in the young men from Abnegation. Her mother was forever dropping hints about this man or that and their "outstanding moral character."
Beatrice kept up a silent but stubborn resistance. She admired her parents, their simple lifestyle, and how they had fought for prohibition, but she craved something more. And Abnegation boys like Susan's brother, Robert Black, weren't it. Her household chores, church volunteerism, and her parents' legalistic dos and don'ts weren't it either. Beatrice wanted to be free.
She dreamed of a life outside of Chicago, far from the brick apartments crammed full of dirty children and loud adults - somewhere with fresh air and without the oppressive judgment of Abnegation's narrow views. She dreamed of independence, and a chance to experience more of the world.
This job interview was Beatrice's first step toward that independent life. The interview had been arranged by her school friend, Christina. Christina also lived in the neighborhood, but her family was not part of Abnegation. She had a job as a typist for a firm on Clark Street. She also had a boyfriend named Will, an adorable short haircut, and a stylish wardrobe. Beatrice didn't want Will, nor was she overly jealous of Christina's flashy hair and clothes, but she envied her friend's freedom to explore and express herself.
Christina's employer, Candor Business Mailings, was hiring a few new girls, so Christina had arranged an interview for her friend. As Tris hurried down the frozen street, she glanced once again at the scrap of paper in her gloved hand. "Thursday, February 14, 10:30 am. 2122 North Clark Street," it read.
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"Four, it's time."
The young man known as Four nodded silently. He was known for his silence and private ways. Though he had been a member of the Dauntless gang for several years, there were few, if any, other members who could claim they knew him well. In fact, unlike guys like Eric "The Executioner" Coulter and "Honest Pete" Hayes, no one even knew Four's real name. The reason for his unusual nickname was a constant source of speculation within the gang. Some claimed that he killed four of their rivals from the northside Gang on his first day. Others claimed he earned the name outrunning four officers while bringing in booze from Canada. Whatever the truth was, Four commanded a lot of respect in Al Capone's southside gang, Dauntless.
Eric Coulter, dressed in the uniform of his day job with the Chicago Police Department, handed Four a bundle of clothing. As he stepped into an empty room to change, Four sighed. He never wanted to get involved with the mob and Chicago's criminal underworld. He was forced into the life by the devil himself - his father, Marcus Eaton.
On the surface, Marcus was a beloved figure in Chicago. He was a judge, and leader of the morally-narrow temperance group Abnegation. No one ever suspected Marcus Eaton of taking bribes, much less leading a criminal organization. After all, he was the leader of the most selfless band of crusaders in Chicago. But behind closed doors, Marcus was a tyrant. When his son, Tobias, was just nine years old, Marcus had beaten his wife to death, and passed it off as an unfortunate accident. He physically abused his son, too, and when Tobias was old enough, he forced him to join Dauntless.
To the outside world, including Marcus' followers in Abnegation, Tobias Eaton was spoken of as a prodigal. Marcus told people that his only son had strayed from the straight and narrow and left home. In reality, Tobias was still under his father's thumb, forced to run liquor shipments and take out rival gang members. Prohibition kept alcohol rare and valuable, so Marcus continued to hide his true self behind the front of Abnegation while amassing a fortune for himself and the organized crime bosses above him.
Tobias stepped out of the room, now dressed in the Chicago PD uniform that Eric provided. Three other men were waiting with Coulter. Peter "Honest Pete" Hayes was another crooked cop working for Dauntless, and he wore his uniform as well. He had been on a number of jobs, and was quickly climbing the ranks under Eric and Four. Also with him were two newer members dressed in street clothes. One was Drew "the Italian Mick" Carbonne, a mixed Italian-Irish man with his father's surname, but his mother's red hair and freckles. The other new guy was Al "Softie" Mansetti, a big guy with soft brown eyes and a quiet demeanor that belied his mafia activities.
The five men gathered an assortment of rifles, knives, and a pair of Thompson submachine guns, better known as 'Tommy Guns.' They loaded the weapons and boxes of ammunition into the delivery van Al used at his day job with a local bakery. Peter left in his police car while the others piled in the back of Al's van.
"Does everyone know their role?" Eric asked as Al maneuvered the van onto the snowy streets.
The men nodded. They had already been briefed on the job. Al Capone had ordered Marcus Eaton to put a hit out on Bugs Moran and his boys from the northside. With the local police already angry with Moran's boys over the death of an officer's son, Marcus thought that having Dauntless assailants dress as police would be the perfect setup, and probably throw off the investigation, as well. If nothing else, it showed panache, and Marcus did have a penchant for theatrics.
Associates from Detroit's Purple Gang had spread the word to Moran's boys that they had some valuable whiskey and were looking to deal. They set up a fake meeting with Moran and a couple of his top associates, who would instead be surprised by Dauntless boys dressed as cops. The appointment was scheduled for Thursday, February 14, 10:30 am, at the SMC Cartage Company warehouse, 2122 North Clark Street, Chicago.
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Al parked the bakery van in the alley about a block from the warehouse. Peter pulled up next to them in his police vehicle, and Four and Eric climbed in with him, the large guns tucked under their overcoats. While Al and Drew made their way on foot, Peter drove around the block. A truck sideswiped the police car, causing the three gangsters a brief moment of panic. They didn't want to have to kill a witness and risk leaving more clues. When the other driver stopped, Peter stuck his head out the window and waved him away.
Four grew increasingly anxious as they approached the warehouse. He hated being forced to kill people, and the increased risk of pulling a job in broad daylight added another layer to his anxiety. Sure, the other mobsters were far from innocent, but Four wasn't innocent either, and he really didn't care which lowlife and his thugs ran the liquor trade in Chicago.
Peter circled another block after the near accident, just to be sure no one was watching them. He drove the police vehicle up to the warehouse, where Drew and Al were waiting, leaning nonchalantly against a wall.
As the men regrouped beside the police car, distributing the Tommy Guns to Eric and Four while the other three took rifles, they were surprised to see a young woman scurry up to the warehouse and open the main entrance.
"Who's that?" Drew hissed to the others.
"She doesn't look like one of Moran's girls," Peter added.
"Too innocent," Drew agreed.
"Something's not right," Eric said. "You three stay here while Four and I take a look around."
Four nodded in agreement and slid his Tommy Gun in the trunk of the police car as discreetly as possible. Eric did the same, and the two men took off toward the warehouse.
A broken window on the side of the building gave Four a vantage point, and he watched the young woman's drama unfold. He recognized the Gusenberg brothers, a pair of Moran's enforcers, who marched the wide-eyed young woman into the garage space where the others had congregated.
There were seven men and a large dog in the room. Aside from the Gusenbergs, Four recognized Moran's business manager and his second in command. Two of the men were unknown to Four. The seventh had his back to the window, but looked like he could be Moran himself, just as the Purple Gang had promised.
"This doll says she's got a job interview," Frank Gusenberg said, shoving the petite blonde further into the room.
"I… I…" the woman stammered, pulling a slip of paper out of her coat pocket. "Isn't this Candor Business Mailings? It says right here, 2212 North Clark."
"Candor?" Adam Hayer, Moran's business manager asks. "No, ya Dumb Dora, Candor's a couple blocks thataway."
"Oh dear," said the blonde, wringing her hands. "I'm so sorry. If you could just point me in the right direction… I'm going to be late for my interview."
"I smell a rat," said the other Gusenberg brother.
"Yeah," Frank agreed. "This looks like a setup."
"A… A what?" the woman asked, obvious fear in her voice.
"You ain't going nowhere," one of the men said.
"But… but…" the girl stammered.
Four made his way around to where Eric was scouting things out. "Seven men, a dame, and a dog," Four said quietly. "Looks like Moran is one of them."
"But where did the broad come from?" Eric asked.
"According to her, she's lost," Four explained. "And since she's not with us or them, I gotta believe it's true."
Eric swore under his breath. "Do we just bump her too?"
"Jeez, I'd hate to whack a girl just for being in the wrong place. And what if she has a family or something? No one's gonna get upset if we take out Moran's boys, but an innocent dame? We'll have the whole city of Chicago hunting us down."
Eric nodded. The city was used to turning a blind eye to mobster thugs killing one another, but innocent women and children were a different story. "So what do we do?" he asked.
The men heard a scream from inside the warehouse, and Four ducked around the corner, going back to the broken window where he could see inside. There he saw the thugs pawing at the young woman. When she resisted, one of them backhanded her across the face, causing her to scream again. Seeing that gave Four an idea, and he slipped back around the corner to tell Eric the plan.
"You get the guys and the guns," Four said, "and come back here by the back door. I'll go to the front door pretending I'm a cop and that someone heard the girl scream and sent me. While they're distracted by me hauling the dame away, you guys bust in and finish the job."
"But what will you do with the girl?" Eric asked.
Four thought for a minute. "If you can keep Honest Pete from jumping the gun, I should have the girl out of the way before you open fire. I'll keep up the cop story until she's back where she belongs, and no one will be the wiser."
Eric agreed with Four's plan, and the two men crept back to their confederates to get them caught up. Al tried to get them to let him go after the girl, but they disagreed because of his lack of a uniform.
The other Dauntless took the big guns and went around to the back door as planned, leaving Four with just his pistol. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the warehouse's main entrance, knocking forcefully.
"Police! Open up!" He called out.
The door opened a crack, and Frank Gusenberg appeared. "Can I help you, Officer?" he asked in a falsely innocent tone.
"We got a report of a girl screaming in here," Four said.
"A girl?" Gusenberg asked.
"Help me!" the young woman yelled from inside. Four heard her cry answered with a slap that made her cry out in pain.
The door swung open fully as Albert Kachellek, Moran's number two guy, appeared.
"Go sit down, Frank," Albert snarled. "Officer, we found this woman trespassing on our property," he began.
"I wasn't trespassing!" the young woman interrupted. "I'm lost! I thought this was Candor Business Mailings. Now these men won't let me go!"
Four faked a sigh, as if frustrated to be handling a stupid, lost woman instead of a real crime. "Okay," he said. "I'll get her where she belongs. Come on, lady."
The blonde wrenched her arm away from the men holding her and hurried to the door where Four stood waiting.
"Good day, gentlemen," Four said as he took the girl by the arm.
As soon as the door slammed behind them, he pulled her away from the building at a fast pace. He knew that Peter's itchy trigger finger would only hold out so long, and he wanted her away before the bullets started to fly.
Sure enough, they had only reached the alley of the next block when Four heard the pop, pop, pop of a submachine gun firing.
He pulled the strange young woman behind a car. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"What?" she asked.
"Who are you?" Four repeated. "And what were you doing in a warehouse full of northside thugs?"
"What?" she asked again, still in shock. "I'm… My name is Beatrice Prior. My friend Christina got me a job interview at Candor. I wrote down the address she gave me, but those guys told me I was in the wrong place. Then they wouldn't let me leave."
"Come on," Four said, "I'll take you home."
Beatrice's shoulders slumped, and her eyes filled with tears. "This job was supposed to be my ticket to freedom," she lamented. "Now I missed my chance. Plus those guys... I just… I don't want my parents to be right. I don't want to be stuck in Abnegation!"
"Abnegation?" Four asked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Beatrice nodded. "My parents raised us in Abnegation. They're…"
"I know who they are," Four interrupted as he pulled his hand back. "I know them and their corrupt leader too well."
"Judge Eaton?" Beatrice asked.
"Yes," Four spat. "Mr. Perfect Judge Eaton who pretends to be selfless but makes millions running booze from Canada and taking bribes. Judge Eaton who takes orders from Capone himself. Judge Eaton who beat his wife to death."
"That's just a malicious rumor," Beatrice said defensively.
"That's the honest truth, Miss Prior," Four said.
Beatrice looked at Four shrewdly. Something about his deep blue eyes was familiar to her. Suddenly awareness dawned on her face. "Tobias!" she said in a shocked whisper.
Four nodded solemnly. "I watched that monster beat my mother to death. He beat me, too, and I have the scars to prove it. He has also forced me to do his bidding in Dauntless."
"That… That…" Beatrice huffed as she realized that her sheltered vocabulary was inadequate for the rage she was feeling toward Marcus Eaton.
"Now I really don't want to go back to that life! Hypocrites!" she hissed.
"Do you have somewhere to go?" Tobias asked.
Beatrice shook her head. "I've never been allowed to work, so I have no money. And everyone I know lives in the neighborhood. That's why I wanted the job at Candor; I thought I could save up for a while and get away. Now that I know the truth about Judge Eaton, I'm more certain than ever."
"What about you?" she asked Tobias. "How did you get away?"
"I didn't," he said, embarrassed to admit that he was still under Marcus' control. "He forced me into Dauntless and only told people that I was gone."
"But… But why don't you leave? Why don't you tell the police or something?" she asked.
"He owns the police," Tobias informed her. "Where am I supposed to go?"
"Tobias, what do we do?" Beatrice asked, reaching for his hands.
Tobias realized that the gunfire sounds had stopped and that he was in a stolen policeman's uniform, squatting with a strange girl behind a car in an alley.
"Right now we need to get out of here," he informed Beatrice. "Dauntless just put a hit on the men in that warehouse, and real cops will be swarming the place any minute."
Beatrice gasped. "You were supposed to kill those guys?" she asked.
Tobias nodded, then held a hand out to her as he stood. Beatrice took his hand and they began walking quickly away from the warehouse.
After about ten minutes of walking, Beatrice spoke up. "You need to get out of that uniform," she said. "Do you have money on you, or do we need to steal something?"
Tobias laughed. "My dear Miss Prior, I don't think I've ever heard such a thing from a good Abnegation girl."
"I was never a good Abnegation girl," she replied.
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A/N: On the morning of February 14, 1929, seven members of Bugs Moran's gang were gunned down at the SMC Cartage warehouse in Chicago. The event has become known as the St Valentine's Day Massacre, and is one of the most notorious unsolved murders of the roaring '20s prohibition/mobster era. Many books, documentaries, and fictionalized movies have been made about the event.
Obviously the characters from Veronica Roth's Divergent series weren't the ones who killed Moran's men. But no one knows who really walked into the warehouse in police uniforms, had seven gangsters line up against the wall, then shot them with two rifles and two Thompson submachine guns. One of the seven, Frank Gusenberg, survived long enough to be questioned. With fourteen bullet holes in his body, his only answer to the police was "No one shot me."
This fanfic-history mashup may not be strictly true, but I did weave a lot of research and reality into the story. I looked at the weather from that day. I looked at Google Streetview to see what the area looks like now (the warehouse was torn down in the late 1960s, and the bullet-riddled brick wall was saved. It is currently on display at the Mob Museum in Las Vegas). I dug into the fashions of the era, and looked at pictures of police cars, too. Find me on Pinterest (AnnLiberty - all one word) where I have created a board for this story. There's info on the true St Valentine's Day Massacre, and lots of gorgeous roaring '20s eye candy! It's the bee's knees!