Chapter 34
DRASKO
“I have never been this high above the city,” Zeph said the next day as he smoked, gazing out the window of Drasko’s office.
Drasko and Zeph had spent hours talking about the past, the present, and the future. Both amused. Both nostalgic. Both careful around each other but slowly rekindling the bond that had come from the worst times in their lives.
“Literally or metaphorically?” Drasko chuckled, leaning back into his chair behind his desk and studying his friend. He couldn’t get enough, was still trying to reconcile the seven-year-old boy with the ruthless Bankee.
Zeph turned around to grin at him. “I don’t know about your brain, brother, but you definitely developed a smart mouth.”
He walked over to the desk, picked up the blue diamond, the size of a cherry pit that Drasko had gifted him, tossed it in the air, and caught it midway.
“Before we meet the bossman, you need to know a bit about him.”
Drasko took a sip of whisky, crossed his feet at the ankles on top of his desk, and got ready for a good story.
“Mr. Inigo Handley, the current head of the Bankee Syndicate”—Zeph lit a cigar and settled in the chair across the desk from Drasko—“was the grandson of the famous Frank Handley, the right-hand man of Rocco. Rocco was the founder of the Syndicate in the first half of the century. Frank Handley was the reason for the war between the Bankees and the Smethwicks. He was an extraordinary man, staged his own death and funeral, escaped to America with his wife, a former courtesan of the Belle House. The story is truly captivating and wild. One day I’ll tell you all of it. ”
A crooked smile tugged at Zeph’s lips as he nodded as if he had been there during those times.
“His staged death was the reason for the Bankees and Smethwicks’ final alliance.
So, Frank and Maude Handley moved to New York, had a son, Aston Handley, who then married the daughter of the Bowery Boys’ boss.
You see? Two gangs. A marriage that sealed the alliance and established a strong business bond between New York and London.
And then Inigo was born. Grew up in the trade, of course.
When he was twenty, business with London was shaky.
Opium was gaining popularity. The wars over its distribution started.
Naturally, Inigo was sent to England to fix things. ”
“At twenty?” Drasko raised his brows in surprise.
“At twenty. He is a bit over forty now and more of a politician, smart and?—”
“A criminal.”
Zeph cocked a brow. “Oy, he is planning to run for Lord Mayor of London.”
“Interesting.”
“His grandfather, Frank Handley, had a reputation as a vicious fighter, the most ruthless yet the most loyal and honorable Bankee.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is true. He built buildings in St. Giles, schools, hospitals, reformatories. Much like you. Frank Handley was also an orphan and a street thief.”
Much like me. “Why are you telling me this, Zeph?”
Zeph took a puff of his cigar and narrowed his eyes at Drasko through a cloud of smoke.
“You have two advantages,” he said in a low but sharp voice. “One, Handley values strong character, men who have potential and perseverance.”
“So, I used to be a homeless street thief who rose to the top. I see. What is the other one?”
A slow sip of whisky followed as Zeph locked eyes with Drasko over the rim of his glass.
“Me, of course.” Zeph clicked his tongue, and his expression softened. “I don’t yet know what sort of man you’ve become, Drasko. But I hope I am not wrong. So, what can be better than the third in command of the Bankees vouching for you?”
Drasko laughed. “Selling yourself, as always.”
He was glad to finally get his friend back, still amused by the coincidence, and regarded it as a sign—to never forget where he had come from.
And he was, in his turn, yet to learn what sort of man Zeph had become.
That same afternoon, Drasko found himself in an opulent office of an old gothic-revival mansion, sitting at a redwood desk across from Mr. Inigo Handley.
Handley indeed looked like a politician. He was a heavily built man with a giant beard and mustache, his gaze prying, his lips never letting go of a cigar. He seemed to be permanently shrouded in thick cigar smoke.
And he was quiet, letting Drasko speak for some time as he studied him with a curious glint in his eyes.
“I will put your men on payroll,” Drasko said after explaining the problem with the Wollendorfs. “You tell me what you want, and I will get it for you.”
The corners of Handley’s eyes crinkled as he narrowed them on Drasko. “For protection?” His voice was low but deep and commanding, much like those Parliament men who could suddenly talk in a booming way that drew everyone’s attention.
“That’s a start.” Drasko observed the Bankee boss with attention to every detail, as he always did with the important people he was contemplating striking a deal with.
“What I truly want is for your men to shadow the Wollendorfs and their most important men—lawyers, accountants, and such. To ensure they don’t make dirty deals against me with someone else or get anywhere near me or my wife again. ”
Making a deal with a crime syndicate of any type had never been in Drasko’s consideration. But dangerous times called for unusual measures.
What concerned him more than anything now was the auction and Grace’s safety until Uriah’s game came to an end. After that, he entertained the idea of leaving the diamond industry.
They smoked some more, drank whisky, talked. Zeph was mostly silent, closely watching both men.
“Gem business…” Handley finally said with a vague smile.
Only men at the top knew that alliances such as this one started small and grew into much bigger things, often more dangerous but also exciting as the two powerful consortiums were about to share their business ground.
Drasko started from afar, with his most charming card. “Does your wife fancy diamonds, Mr. Handley?”
Handley’s smiling eyes shot at him. “What woman doesn’t, Mr. Mawr?” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Her birthday is coming up. She asked for—what do you know?—a Mawr diamond necklace.”
“How old, may I ask?”
The man’s eyes flashed with a hint of irritation. “Thirty-two,” he said after a prolonged pause.
“Her favorite color?”
“Pink.”
Drasko nodded. Tomorrow, Handley would get a box with thirty-two rare pink diamonds and a note, For a woman who deserves the best . Maybe, a bit more elaborate praise.
Handley finally spoke again. “Mr. Mawr, we don’t do simple jobs for the wealthy. We do business. What we had with the Wollendorfs was supposed to turn into a business enterprise. Imports, you see? They don’t only deal diamonds. But...”
But?
Handley leaned forward and twined his hands in front of him on the desk. “I’ve heard of the Wollendorfs before. Heinrich does not have much of a business mind. While Franz, how should I put it, is a man guided by greed more than morals. I pride myself on having a good sense about people.”
Drasko waited for him to continue.
“Back to what I was saying. We make alliances, Mr. Mawr. Mutually beneficial, of course. More importantly, ones that promise to give both sides more power and open many doors.”
Drasko nodded in understanding. That was a universal truth. Brutal men kicked the doors. Smart ones opened them with keys they acquired through partnerships.
“I am here for it, Mr. Handley,” Drasko said, realizing it was time they moved past the diamond foreplay. “Are you acquainted with Mr. William Harton?”
Handley’s brow lifted in curiosity. “Leader of the House of Commons? No. A powerful man, they say.”
“Indeed. I know him and his family quite well. I will introduce you. I heard you are planning on running for Lord Mayor.”
And just like that, without saying anything more, the opportunities were already laid out and the alliance made.
Zeph nodded in approval.
Handley lit a candle, set the candle holder in the center of the table, and opened a desk drawer. A small icon of a saint and a razor appeared in his hands. His prying eyes were on Drasko again.
“You don’t need to be a religious man, Mr. Mawr. But we sign with blood. No contracts. No witnesses. It’s very simple, but make no mistake. You betray us—” His gaze hardened.
“I have no reason, Mr. Handley. You, on the other hand?—”
“You won’t find more committed people than those who break the law for a living, yet their lives depend on loyalty. Morals and laws are not the same, Mr. Mawr.”
Drasko looked at Zeph—they both knew that. Their poor childhoods had ingrained that in their hearts.
In minutes, the little fire hissed from the drops of blood, three shades of it dripping into the flames.
Just like then , Drasko thought of his deal with Uriah.
“And now,” said Zeph with a mysterious smile when they left Handley’s office, “it’s time to learn what sort of man you truly are, brother.”