"Mr. Brook!" After leaving Josh's study, the deeply preoccupied Vito quickly found Brook, who was polishing a car under the guidance of a servant.
"Oh, it's you, Vito. What's the matter?" Brook paused his work and asked.
"Mr. Kahn sent to you. He told that you know sothing about my father's death," Vito said, looking intently at Brook.
"So, that's it. I do know sothing. Get in the car," Brook said, nodding as he gestured for Vito to get in before taking the driver's seat.
Without hesitation, Vito followed and sat in the passenger seat.
Brook drove them to the harbor district, specifically to the dock where Vito's father had worked.
"Hey, who are you guys?" A worker approached as the car ca to a stop.
"I'm looking for Vinnie," Brook casually tossed a cigarette his way.
For dockworkers, a few cigarettes were often enough to get things done; no need to spend actual cash.
As for Brook, he and his fellow bodyguards received cartons of cigarettes as part of their benefits from Josh, whose business included tobacco. This made it easy for them to afford such casual gestures.
"Vinnie, soone's here to see you!" The worker sniffed the cigarette, happily stuck it behind his ear, and shouted.
Soon, a skinny, shifty-eyed young man erged from the crowd moving cargo.
"Ah, Mr. Brook!" Seeing who had co, the young worker quickly approached with an ingratiating smile. He didn't know Brook's true identity but was aware that he was soone important.
"Tell everything you know about Antonio's death," Brook demanded. Antonio was Vito's father's na.
"Oh, that? Heh, heh..." Vinnie chuckled nervously, rubbing his hands together before glancing at Vito. "And who might this be?"
"Not your concern. Speak," Brook growled, tossing a half-used pack of cigarettes at him.
"Right, right, my apologies!" Vinnie quickly pocketed the pack, his grin widening. "If I'm not mistaken, Antonio's death was Stephan's doing."
"Stephan? Who's Stephan?" Vito imdiately asked.
"He's Derrick's enforcer and the top dog around here. That night, I saw them leave together, but only Stephan ca back, soaking wet. The next day, we heard Antonio had drowned in the canal. What a joke! That canal's barely a ter deep—kids wouldn't drown in it!" Vinnie said, vividly recounting the details.
Vito's blood boiled as he listened.
Although this was just Vinnie's account, Vito found it mostly believable. He didn't know Stephan, but he was familiar with Derrick—his father's boss and a notorious bully in the area. During his days as a troublemaker, Vito had heard Derrick's na countless tis.
"Do you know where Stephan and Derrick are now?" Brook asked.
"Of course. Their office is right there on the second floor of that warehouse," Vinnie said, pointing across the dock.
"Thank you, Vinnie. You can go back to work now," Brook said, patting the man on the shoulder.
"Sure thing, Mr. Brook, but... you won't tell anyone I said this, right? If Stephan hears about it, he'll kill !" Vinnie asked cautiously.
"Don't worry. This stays between us," Brook assured him.
Relieved, Vinnie grinned and returned to his tasks.
"What's your plan?" Brook asked Vito, who had lit a cigarette and was smoking silently.
"Revenge, of course," Vito said, crushing the cigarette underfoot.
"Then I think you might need a little help," Brook said, leading Vito to the car's trunk.
Vito followed, puzzled. When Brook opened the trunk and lifted a hidden panel, his eyes widened.
A neat row of gleaming Thompson submachine guns lay cushioned on foam pads. Alongside them were several M1911 pistols.
"Take what you need," Brook said, patting Vito on the shoulder.
"Wait a minute. Are we seriously just going to storm in there with guns? Everyone here has seen our faces!" Vito exclaid, gesturing toward the dockworkers.
This seed reckless—if the police got involved, the witnesses would easily give them away.
"Relax. Mr. Kahn's influence is far greater than you imagine. These workers wouldn't dare snitch, and even if soone did, the police wouldn't co after us. Also, this isn't our job; it's yours. Or are you telling you can't handle a few thugs?" Brook said indifferently.
Hearing this, Vito realized the truth. Brook wasn't just a bodyguard—this was Josh's test, a way to both help Vito and bind him to loyalty.
"No, I can handle it!" Vito declared confidently.
After all, he'd survived the chaos of European battlefields. What were a few dock thugs compared to that?
He grabbed two M1911s, checked the magazines, chambered rounds, and tucked them into his side holsters. Then he added two more to his back holsters and finally slung a Thompson under his coat.
Dressed in a heavy winter coat, it was hard to tell he was ard to the teeth.
Brook dropped him off at the warehouse. Minutes later, the sound of gunfire erupted from the upper floor, like popcorn in a skillet. Brook lit a cigarette and waited.
When Vito erged, Brook had just finished smoking.
"Not bad. Efficient," Brook said approvingly as Vito climbed back into the car.
"What about these?" Vito asked, gesturing to the guns.
"Leave them on the backseat. I'll take care of it," Brook replied.
Vito nodded, placing the guns down before pulling out several bundles of cash and ration tickets from his pockets.
"What's this?" Brook raised an eyebrow.
"Found them in their safe. Derrick had quite a stash. But according to the rules, I should hand it over, right?" Vito said.
Brook burst out laughing. "Rules? Kid, we're not a gang. Our boss doesn't care about this kind of pocket change. Keep it—buy yourself so new clothes."
Embarrassed, Vito chuckled awkwardly. His mindset was still stuck in the past, where leaders or officers always claid the spoils.
Still, after so hesitation, he split the cash in half and handed part to Brook.
"What's this for?" Brook asked, surprised.
"Thanks for your help. I wouldn't have gotten revenge so easily without you," Vito said sincerely.
Brook smiled, his impression of Vito improving.
A young man who knew how to share? He might just have a bright future.
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