Family

Three thousand dollars coming in from last month's "protection" fees for local businesses. Another one thousand dollars coming in from their share of pledges from the neighborhood synagogue. A further one thousand and fifty dollars in winnings from underground fighting rings and local horse races. At only eighteen years of age, Mordecai was in charge of recording and distributing money for the outfit. Everyone would get a share of the earnings, though those at the top would get a significantly larger cut than those at the bottom. The gutter-dwellers like himself.

His official pay wasn't even close to enough to feed an entire family, but he dared not ask for a raise. If he became more expensive than the worth of his services, then he would be severed. Unlike most jobs, that didn't mean getting put out onto the streets. As the bookkeeper, he had access to a great many things. Information which could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

Luckily, through cunning and intelligence, Mordecai was able to devise a way to get what he needed without putting undue burdens on the gang. An additional "fee" of fifty cents added to a handful of monthly shares taken out and diverted into a secret, private account. Mordecai made sure to keep this "fee" random to seem more like a simple, one-off accounting error if he were to ever be caught. Thankfully, getting caught would require his bosses to pay attention. Earning their trust since he was twelve years old, Mordecai had built up a reputation as being precise and forthcoming with information.

"There's my favorite accountant!" Sal said, barging into the small backroom Mordecai was working in. Mordecai jumped, startled at the abrupt entry.

"How many times must I tell you to knock before entering in my office?!"

Sal laughed. "Oh, your office, is it? Last I checked, this building belonged to the family."

"A gang isn't a family, Sal. Regardless, these ledgers are not for your eyes."

Sal feigned offense, gasping and pretending to faint. "A gang isn't a family? But that's what Palmeri calls us."

"A family doesn't hurt and kill each other." Mordecai retorted. "But the gang does pay the bills."

"Speaking of which, do you have the week's pay yet?" Sal said, standing back upright and brushing off the comments.

Mordecai pointed toward the stack of envelopes on the shelves behind him. "Yes, your weekly remuneration is here."

"On time as always, brother." Sal said, taking his money in hand.

"Why do you always call me 'brother'?" Mordecai asked. "We are not related."

Sal smiled. "I call all of us boys 'brother', Mordecai. We are in the same service and members of the same family. I just hope that soon you'll outgrow this desire for four quiet walls and a ledger book. I could certainly use some help with the younger boys."

Heller rolled his eyes. "If you are suggesting I join the rest of our colleagues out in the field, I've told you before that I am not suited. I've never had to fight before, and my vision has been impaired since I was a young boy."

"It might be true that you're a bit skinny. But those glasses won't hold you back. I've been surviving with glasses just fine."

"All the same, we must each do what we are best at. I am best suited for making sure that money gets to its destination, and you are good for collecting that money. Now, if you don't mind…"

"Yeah, yeah. I leave you to dwell in this square room. Just know that if you ever change your mind, you've got friends out there. It's my job, you know. Making sure all of us boys can survive on the streets. Been that way for years."

"And your services are appreciated." Mordecai said before adjusting his glasses and resuming his calculus of monthly credits and debits.

"This was the last one, right?" Jacob asked, pointing at the building which loomed above them.

Mordecai shook his head to refocus on the task at hand. "Yes, this is it. The last apartment block on my list. If they are still in the East side of Manhattan."

"They wouldn't be north? People have been moving there."

"I doubt it. We weren't exactly wealthy, and it is the more… thriving immigrants who move up there." Mordecai explained while climbing the steps of the apartment. They checked the list of names at the entrance. Jacob's eyes widened as he recognized the name 'Heller'.

"Look, sir, this apartment has more Hellers inside!"

"Hmm, so it does. Maybe they are here."

Standing at the correct door, Mordecai took a deep breath. Jacob noted how Mordecai was nervous now. It was odd because he hadn't seemed the least bit frightened of anyone, he had faced on his behalf so far. Mordecai knocked on the door after a moment of hesitation before stepping back and waiting. The door opened and an elderly lady revealed herself.

"Can I help you?"

Mordecai's heart sank. "I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am. I was looking for someone else."

"Oh… It is hard to find people in this city. What was the name?"

Mordecai could hardly bother to hold a conversation but gave out his family name. "I was looking for my mother and sisters. The Heller family."

The woman's eyes lit up. "You must have seen the name on the list downstairs, didn't you?"

"Yes?"

"That list hasn't been updated for a few months. 'Heller' was the name of the people who lived here before."

Mordecai could hardly believe his luck. "If that is true, where could I find them?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know where they would be now. But you might want to ask the landlord downstairs."

"Come, Jacob. We must hurry!" Mordecai said as he flew down the stairs with an unusually fast gait. They were soon in front of the landlord's office where Mordecai rung the bell. The landlord promptly showed up, clearly working on a plumbing issue in the back. "If it's about a leaking sink, you'll need to get in line. I've got five to repair already."

"I'm not here to discuss plumbing." Mordecai said, adjusting his glasses and settling back into his usual self.

"Oh, then what can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for my family. Their name is Heller. I went up to their apartment but a new tenant has occupied the space."

"Ah yes. Three women. They moved out four months ago."

Mordecai got the confirmation he needed. That had to be them. "Do you know where they have gone?"

"Let's see. I remember the eldest daughter saying, but… but it was so long ago."

"Dammit man, I must know! Please, think!" Mordecai demanded.

"It was outside Manhattan. I remember that much."

"Well that narrows it down…" Mordecai said, lowering his gaze.

"I'm sorry, sir. There's just so many people who come and go. They don't all leave records either."

"…I understand." Mordecai said, growing quiet.

"There is a hotel down the block if you need a room for the night. If I happen to remember where your family went, I'll come to find you. But at least you don't have to waste three days combing all of Manhattan."

"Correct. Now I need to comb through all of New York City…"

As evening turned to night, Jacob could feel Mordecai's frustration and disappointment. He dared not speak more than necessary, lest he receive some kind of punishment. Mordecai seemed to take notice too. As he sat there in a wingback chair looking out across the neighborhood, Mordecai turned his eye toward Jacob. "You've been oddly silent tonight."

"I'm sorry we didn't find your family. You look disappointed."

"I am disappointed. Two days of searching and I come to the end of a trail."

"Y-you are disappointed in me too?"

"No, Jacob. You have been helpful despite your youthfulness. Rest, I need to think."

Disloyal

Sal was busy cleaning firearms in the armory when Palmeri walked in on the boy. Noticing his boss, Sal set down the revolver and wiped the oil from his hands. Taking a cigarette out of his mouth, Palmeri leaned over the teenage Sal and noted how clean the gun was. "You're learning quickly. Good. A clean gun keeps you safe."

"Yes sir." Sal said, daring not to look his boss in the eye.

"Too bad you'll have to get it dirty again so soon. We've got a problem. It involves Heller."

"Is he hurt?" Sal asked, much to Palmeri's amusement.

"You attach yourself too easily to people, boy. Mordecai has proven himself to be disloyal."

"Disloyal? But he's been here as long as I have."

"I know. That's why I'm bringing this to your attention. You have a chance to prove your loyalty to us. Heller has been stealing money out of our accounts. Devilishly cunning plan, I might add. But theft is theft and requires punishment. It doesn't matter if the offender is a member of our… family."

Sal could hardly believe it. Ideally, he would have proof of this treachery, but his life was on the line. Refusal to carry out a task could result in anything from a beating to being eliminated. Cats on his level were disposable. A dime a dozen. Sal switched out the magnified glasses for the cheap pair of spectacles he usually wore. "Shall I track him?"

"No, Sal. You are to kill him. Make Heller an example so the younger boys who follow you understand what happens when you steal from us. Do you know where to find him?"

Sal hesitated for a moment, using the opportunity to think back to what he remembered about Heller. "I don't have an address, but I do know about where he lives."

"Good, make it so. Do this and your loyalty will be rewarded."

Mordecai was running around the empty apartment packing every essential item he could think of. After three years of embezzling funds, the new accountant Palmeri hired found his trail. The accountant had asked Mordecai about the little differences and errors on the ledger. For a brief time, Heller thought that he had gotten away with it. But, the more he thought about what the accountant was asking him the more he realized that he had been caught. After sneaking away earlier in the day, Heller found himself alone in the family apartment. The girls were at school and his mother was helping some friends do housework for money.

Two changes of clothes, which was most of his wardrobe, his father's coat and hat, the pocket watch he had saved money to purchase, and some emergency cash just in case an event like this came to pass. Heller also grabbed his pens and note paper. He'd have to send a letter back to his family as soon as possible. On his way out the door, his eye caught two small photos on the mantle. They were tiny images that could fit in a wallet. His parents and his siblings. Shaking his head, Mordecai fled out the door only to backtrack. He had to bring at least one thing with that would remind him of the only people he cared about. Packing away the photos, Heller locked the apartment door and flew down the stairs. He had to get to the train station as quickly as possible. The more distance he put between himself and Palmeri's men, the better. A tear welled up in his eye. Mordecai was leaving in secret and it would surely hurt his mother. He was also scared. This plan was by no means a guarantee of success.

Walking briskly down the street, someone reached out from an alley and pulled him in. He tried to yell, but a hand covered his mouth. Opening his eyes, Heller realized it was Sal. Sal calmly gestured for Heller to be quiet before letting him go. There was a look of pain and confusion on Sal's face. "Mordecai, what the hell is going on?"

"W-what do you mean? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong, Mordecai! Palmeri said you've been stealing from them. Is that true?"

Mordecai hesitated to answer. The silence said it all. Sal shook his head. "Why would you steal from the gang? I need to know!"

"I can't say, Sal. Now, I need to go."

"No, you aren't going anywhere!" Sal said, grabbing Mordecai's arm. "You're my brother, Mordecai. We found our way into Palmeri's outfit at the same time. Don't abandon your family. We need to clear this up. Maybe if you gave the money back—"

"That isn't possible, and it won't make a difference. If I go back, my life is forfeit."

"Heller, listen to me. Palmeri has given me orders to kill you. I don't want to do that. Maybe we can-"

"Then let me go."

Sal thought about it. While they weren't close personally, he had been brought up in the gang to see them all as family. Hell, it was the only family he knew since that day when he trailed two of Palmeri's men back to their headquarters. A small, starving child must have been quite the sight for those hardened men because Palmeri offered a job and a place to live to the young Sal. Mordecai was there too after a few short weeks. It quickly became apparent that they had different strengths. Mordecai seemed to know everything, whereas Sal could get others his age or younger to follow him. Well, almost everyone. That was the one downside of Mordecai. He never fully bought into the idea that this gang was his family. And now that lack of loyalty was showing itself.

"No, I can't."

For a few seconds, both the young men looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Neither wanted this fight, but fate had brought them here. Sal made the first move, reaching for his revolver. Mordecai saw this, but rather than trying to get away he hit Sal in the jaw as hard as he could. It wasn't a terribly effective punch but it did give Mordecai the opening needed to pry the gun away and trip Sal onto his back. When Sal looked up, he saw the barrel of a pistol pointed at him.

"Don't get up, don't move."

"Come on, Mordecai—" Sal tried to get to his feet, but a single shot sent a bullet into his arm. Sal rolled on the ground, howling in pain.

"I'm sorry, Sal. I have my own family to think of." Heller opened the cylinder and dropped the remaining rounds out before tossing the gun away and fleeing down the street.

Sal steamed in his chair. Ten years. That's how long it had been. Ten years since he abandoned them. Ten years since Mordecai Heller had proven himself a traitor. And now he not only has set foot in the city, but Heller has now interfered with their operations. Did he forget why gangsters punished their own when one would squeal to the cops? A disciplined family was stronger, better, and able to survive the dangers of the city. And what if the gang imploded from threats external or internal? Well, no one would last very long on the streets by themselves. He knew all too well how this city could chew up a young boy all on his own. This gang was a family not just for himself, but for others like him. The gutter-dwellers.

"So it is him." Palmeri said, taking in Sal's recounting of his encounter with Mordecai. "My wayward boy finally returns."

"Yes, Mordecai is back in New York… He's protecting Jacob."

Palmeri took a pause at that comment. "Why would Heller be stretching his neck out for some street rat? That isn't like him at all."

"I wish I knew." Sal said, looking out the window while nursing his bruises. "He never cared before. Not for anyone but himself."

Palmeri weighed the options in his head. Heller had already bested three of his underlings. By himself and without firing so much as a single bullet. "Someone taught him how to fight. It's too bad he never took to heart all those lectures about family and loyalty. Remind me, Sal. What makes this gang a family?"

Sal recounted what he had been told a hundred times. "We survive together and we fight for one purpose."

"Exactly. Now Heller is threatening to tear this gang apart. Tear your family apart. We can't allow that to happen."

Sal nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, sir. But it will be hard to get close to him. Even if he's a traitor, Heller is still smart. A trickster." He said, stroking the old scar under the fur of his forearm.

Palmeri stroked his chin. "I'll call around and get eyes looking for him or the boy all over the city. Once either of them is spotted again, I want you bring the boy back here. It's been a while since we've made an example of someone and the others could use the reminder of what happens to those who are disloyal."

Across the River

"So what did you do that made Palmeri want to kill you?" Jacob asked as he and Mordecai sat outside the hotel, taking in the morning light. Mordecai looked at Jacob and was about to allow the question to go unanswered, but Jacob's silent pleading made him cave in.

"Very well. Seeing as this question is bound to come up again, I suppose there is no harm in telling you what happened. I began working for Palmeri when I was younger than you. When I was entrusted with balancing financial accounts, I found a way to take some money in secret to keep my mother and sisters from going hungry. When I was caught, I had to leave the city or Palmeri would have had me killed."

"Oh. Yeah, Palmeri wouldn't like it if any of us stole from the family."

"Pff… Family…" Mordecai scoffed. Jacob noted this.

"Palmeri says we're a family."

"Well, that family is trying to kill you. What family does that?"

Jacob struggled to answer, which gave Mordecai all the confirmation that he needed. "Exactly. What you must understand about Palmeri is that he uses the excuse of "family" to have his men do all manner of terrible things. It's a ruse. A manipulation tactic designed to keep young boys like you loyal. But, as you know all-too-well, if he suspects you've been going behind his back, he won't hesitate to have you killed."

"Excuse me. Good morning." The landlord from yesterday said as he walked up. Mordecai immediately turned his attention to the man he had spoken with yesterday. "Yes…"

"I did some digging around the office yesterday and came up with this." The cat said as he pulled out an old piece of paper. He handed it off to Mordecai, who's eyes widened.

"This is my sister's handwriting."

"Yeah, I got it a couple of months ago. It's a notice telling me where to send any mail that mistakenly ended up at my apartment block. And it has the address right there at the bottom."

Mordecai couldn't believe his luck. They were almost certainly still at this new location if they had moved only a few months ago. His mother and sisters weren't even in Manhattan anymore!

"Brooklyn…" Mordecai said to himself. "They're in Brooklyn."

"Yeah, I remember now. It's not too far on the other side of the river. Anyway, I hope this helps. Good luck to you and your boy." He said.

Mordecai looked up and was about to correct the landlord but he was already out of earshot. Jacob stretched before standing up. "We're going to Brooklyn!"

"We'll have to either ride the ferry or take a taxi across the Williamsburg Bridge. The subway line is too much of a detour." Mordecai said as he folded and pocketed his sister's note in his vest. "This will work in your favor too. You can find a safe location to live in Brooklyn."

At last, Mordecai felt like he was on the right trail. The daytime traffic across the bridge made it sub-optimal, but fortunately Corlears Hook was only a few blocks away. Boarding the ferry bound for Dumbo, Jacob's eyes lit up at the sight before them. The East River was plugged with boats making their way up, down, and across. As the ferry picked up speed, the glint of long steel barrels being moved by crane caught the boy's eye. In the shipyard across the river he saw the hulking mass of a new ship being constructed.

"Woah… Look at that, sir!" He excitedly pointed out. "I didn't know the navy was here."

Mordecai looked in the direction his young companion was pointing, and quickly noticed the ships in different stages of either construction or refitting. "Yes, it is an impressive sight."

"She's called the Pensacola." One of the men next to them said. "Been working on her since the keel was laid down two years ago."

"You've been taking the ferry across the river for two years to work on a ship?" Mordecai asked. He couldn't imagine tolerating this journey every day.

"Two years? No, I've been working there for twenty. Helped build sub chasers during the war and got to work on the Tennessee too. Lately it's just been refitting. Anyway, I'm going to go say hello to the captain while I've got the chance."

While Mordecai couldn't have cared less, Jacob was fascinated. "I want to work there." He whispered to Mordecai.

"It's hard and dirty work." He replied. "But they need people of intelligence to design and build those ships."

As the ferry came into the dock, Jacob also caught a glimpse of the shiny buildings across the river in Manhattan as well as the Statue of Liberty far beyond in the harbor. The ferry came to a halt in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. Before them now was Brooklyn. While Manhattan was vertically built and with people stacked on top of each other, Brooklyn was sprawling out before them in a way that was akin to other cities. Finding the right street was going to take a while.