Chapter 171: Tagging
The scent of fresh lime wash and sawed pine still hung in the air of the MacDougal Alley warehouse, faint beneath the smell of gun oil and dark tobacco. Four weeks had passed since the blood had been scrubbed from the floorboards, and the dim ground floor had been transformed into a silent, orderly staging center.
Forty-four men sat in straight rows on turned wooden crates. Each wore a dark, tailored wool suit and a high starched collar, their flat caps resting on their knees. At the front of the room, lit by two brass mantle lamps, stood a large wooden easel holding a heavy corkboard. Pinned to its surface were black-and-white photographs, hand-drawn street grids, and slips of paper covered in tight, precise handwriting.
Ricky stood beside the easel, a long wooden pointer resting in his hand. He looked over the assembled group before tapping the brass ferrule softly against the edge of the board.
"It’s been a busy month," Ricky began, his voice calm and clear in the echoing room. "Thanks to the work Miller’s squad has been doing out in the eastern wards, we finally have a clear picture of how John Delane operates."
He tapped the top left photograph—a grainily developed shot of a middle-aged man in an expensive bowler hat stepping down from a hansom cab.
"For starters, ’John Delane’ is an alias," Ricky said. "His real name is John De George, and he sits on a minor ward committee in East Midtown. He lives in a four-story boarding house at 413 East 53rd Street, just off the river. But his real income doesn’t come from municipal clerk fees. He runs a high-end prostitution ring targeting young female immigrants—most of them brought in through the Brooklyn and Queens docks."
A low murmur ran through the rows of men. Floyd leaned forward from his crate near the front, resting his forearms on his knees. "Is he operating out of the tenements, Boss?"
"No," Ricky replied, shaking his head. "Tammany uses local street gangs to keep the tenement blocks in line and force votes come election day. De George operates far above that level. He takes advantage of the poverty in those neighborhoods to pull young women into private, high-society circles where the wealthy pay exorbitant fees."
Ricky shifted the pointer to a smaller photograph of a sharp-featured woman in a dark fur coat. "This is his primary fixer, Jeanette Annette—though she goes by Henrietta Arnette in Midtown. She manages the women and handles the ledger books for the private estates."
"What about his supply line?" Miller asked from the third row, crossing his arms. "Who’s bringing the girls in from Queens?"
"That brings us to Christopher Galnick," Ricky said, tapping a photograph of a stocky, thick-necked man standing outside an iron gate. "Galnick is his primary supplier. Up until recently, Galnick was supplying women almost exclusively to Mandy Moore. Moore combined them with his Midtown brothels and cocaine trade, catering to the hotel crowd. But De George offered Galnick a far more lucrative deal—private weekend auctions for elite clientele."
"So Moore and De George are stepping on each other’s toes," Jason noted from the back, a dry smile touching his face.
"Precisely," Ricky said. "They’re competing for the exact same wealthy patrons, and the friction between them is growing every week. Galnick shifted his loyalty to De George because the margins are three times higher. Now, thanks to Miller and Davis, we have full photographic documentation of Galnick’s, Moore’s, and De George’s operations."
Ricky tapped a leather folder sitting on the table beside the easel. "We’re holding these plates until the right moment. When we dump this evidence onto the desks of the Midtown press, it’s going to tear De George’s political backing to ribbons. But before we blow the scandal wide open, we need both De George and Galnick in a room where they have to answer our questions. I’ll let John walk you through the tactical layout."
John Caldwell stepped forward, his tall frame looming over the table as he picked up a length of white chalk and turned to the chalkboard mounted behind the easel.
"Listen up," John said, drawing a series of sharp lines representing street intersections. "This coming Friday, De George has a standing appointment with Galnick out in Queens to organize the women for the weekend auctions. That is our window. We are executing a four-phase simultaneous strike."
John chalked four street locations across the top of the board: Astoria Park Inn, Ditmars Station, 23rd Avenue, and 98th Street Workshop.
"Step one on our capture list is, Mandy Moore," John said, tapping the first location. "Moore will be at his high-end brothel operating out of the private parlor rooms inside the Astoria Park Inn. Floyd, Jason, and Swimmer—you three have Moore. Floyd and Jason, you will be dressed in tuxedoes as wealthy heirs. Enter the parlor, gain Moore’s confidence, and convince him that several state assemblymen and port commissioners want to meet him at a private waterfront estate."
Floyd nodded from the front row. "We’ve spent a month building rapport with Moore. He won’t suspect a thing."
"Step two on our capture list is, Christopher Galnick. He’s a bit of a wild card than out of the three men." John continued, moving his chalk to Ditmars Station. "Galnick usually travels into Astoria by elevated train, arriving at Ditmars Boulevard Station between eight at night and midnight. Mandy Moore always sends his black Ford Model T with two goons to pick him up under the rail trestle. Patrick, Robert, Elmer, and Scudy—you are the intercept team."
Patrick leaned forward, listening carefully.
"Patrick and Robert will take out two goons under the trestle beforehand, eliminate them and take over the vehicle," John instructed. "Elmer and Scudy will act as backup in the dark under the stairwell. Just in case, you will have the badges as private detectives looking for a fugitive so the neighborhood civilians don’t panic or get involved. Avoid using lethal force as much as possible."
"Understood," Patrick said.
"And the final name on our capture list is, John De George," John said, tapping 23rd Avenue. "De George arrives an hour earlier than Galnick and waits inside a small coffee shop on 23rd Avenue with two private bodyguards. This takes two coordinated four-man teams. Squad A—Miller, Chester, Roscoe, and Eugene—will stage a drunken argument down the rear alley to draw the two bodyguards out the back door and drop them with leather saps. Squad B—Davis, Rico, Lyle, and Sterling—will then walk through the front entrance and haul the target out in 24th Street where there will be an enclosed truck waiting."
"As for the next plan. The Corona Workshop Raid," John said, his voice turning cold and heavy as he chalked a box around 98th Street. "While the three targets are being snatched, Galnick’s core strength remains at his main distribution workshop on 98th Street in Corona. He keeps fifteen to twenty heavily armed guards stationed inside, holding dozens of young immigrant women captive before they are auctioned off."
A tense silence fell over the warehouse.
"We are not leaving those girls behind," John stated firmly. "I will personally lead a twenty-man assault force—divided into five four-man squads—to breach and clear the 98th Street workshop. Expect a heavy, violent shootout. Once the guards are neutralized, we clear the dormitories and escort the women three blocks east to Louis Simeon’s Park on 101st Street. Two Senior Mack trucks will be idling under the trees, ready to evacuate them to our safehouses up north to return them to their families."
John turned back to face the entire room, resting the chalk against the table. "Once Moore, Galnick, and De George are bagged, all three teams will transport them straight to our primary staging point—the abandoned chemical plant at Lawrence Point on the waterfront. Gary will hold a six-man perimeter squad around the plant gates starting at six o’clock."
Ricky stepped back up beside John Caldwell, resting his hands in his coat pockets as he looked over the thirty-four men sitting before him.
𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶
"We have four days to memorize every street corner, timetable, and alleyway on that board," Ricky said softly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Galnick and De George think they’re untouchable because they operate in the dark between Midtown politics and Queens vice. Come Friday night, we bring them into the light."