McKinsey Club

  From the outside, the McKinsey Club appeared to be a private bar, exclusive to members. However, beneath this facade was a high-end underground casino, known only to those in the inner circle.

  During the day, it was quiet and unassuming, but by nightfall, it came alive with vibrant energy.

  A Lincoln sedan rolled into the parking lot, about two hundred meters from the club's entrance. The lot was filled with cars. A middle-aged man in a black suit stepped out, grinning. He had just left his lover's place and was in high spirits.

  "I'm going to win big tonight," he muttered confidently.

  As he closed the car door, two figures emerged behind him.

  "Bang!"

  A wooden stick struck him on the head. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed, unconscious.

  "Matthew, you didn't kill him, did you?" Henry asked, sounding worried.

  Matthew chuckled. "Relax, I'm a professional."

  They moved quickly. Matthew searched the man's pockets while Henry pulled out a rope and began tying him up. They stuffed a torn towel into his mouth and covered his head with a black cloth bag. Their actions were efficient and practiced.

  They opened the trunk and tossed the unconscious man inside like a sack of potatoes. After straightening their suits, they walked toward the club entrance. Under a nearby streetlight, Henry checked the man's wallet.

  Inside, they found a pristine McKinsey Club membership card and a few business cards.

  "Kevin Madion, Director of the Credit Department, City Bank of Los Angeles," Henry read aloud with a grin. "Well, from now on, I'm Kevin Madion's cousin."

  "Tough break for your cousin," Matthew quipped with a grin.

  They found over three hundred dollars in the wallet, which Henry pocketed with satisfaction.

  At the club entrance, two imposing doormen stepped forward. "Gentlemen, may I see your membership cards?"

  Henry handed over Kevin Madion's card. The doorman examined it and then looked at Henry. "Sir, this card belongs to Mr. Madion. I know him personally."

  "Kevin's my cousin," Henry said smoothly. "He told me there's some fun to be had here and gave me his card to check it out. Is there a problem?"

  The doorman hesitated before stepping aside. "In that case, gentlemen, enjoy your evening."

  As they walked in, Henry asked, "By the way, how does one get a membership card here? If it's as fun as Kevin says, we might want to join ourselves."

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  "A deposit of $1,000 and an annual membership fee of $500 will suffice," the doorman replied.

  "Not bad," Henry remarked casually, though he knew he couldn't scrape together a hundred dollars if his life depended on it.

  Inside, the club was lavishly decorated, bustling with guests. Some sipped coffee while others chatted at the bar. The women were dressed in elegant, eye-catching attire. Henry and Matthew knew exactly why they were there.

  They ordered drinks at the bar, observing their surroundings. Conversations revolved around gambling—cheers from winners and feigned indifference from the losers.

  A young woman clung to an elderly man in his sixties as they discussed their gambling plans. The woman suggested betting big, while the man preferred poker.

  Henry and Matthew exchanged a glance before casually following the pair at a safe distance. The couple descended a short staircase to the basement, where they approached a door guarded by two bodyguards. The guards opened the door without hesitation.

  The sound of slot machines and lively chatter filled the air—McKinsey Club's underground casino.

  The elderly man and the young woman headed to the cashier to exchange chips. Henry and Matthew observed closely, taking in every detail. Through a glass window, they saw stacks of chips and a suitcase brimming with cash.

  When it was their turn, Henry handed over the $300 from Kevin's wallet and exchanged it for chips, splitting them with Matthew.

  "Let's split up and observe," Henry whispered. "Play a little, but keep your eyes open."

  "Got it," Matthew nodded.

  Three hours later, they regrouped after losing all their chips. Despite the losses, their mission was a success—they had gathered plenty of useful information.

  Back in the parking lot, they climbed into Kevin's Lincoln and drove to a newly rented warehouse in a rough neighborhood under Austrian gang control—an ideal spot for their operations, far from police patrols.

  "Boss, we've done our recon," Henry reported to Hardy with a smile. He and Matthew laid out the details and even sketched a rough layout of the casino.

  "The exchange counter is here, and the cash is stored in this room," Matthew pointed to a spot on the sketch.

  "How much do you think is in there?" Hardy asked.

  Henry thought for a moment. "When we left, there were about a hundred people in the casino. It was peak time. Based on what I saw at the chip exchange, I'd estimate seventy to eighty thousand dollars in circulation."

  Matthew suddenly remembered. "Oh, boss, when I was playing cards, I overheard that there's going to be a blackjack tournament the night after tomorrow. The place will be packed, with even more cash around."

  Hardy nodded, seeing the opportunity. "Good. We'll make our move then. Rest up for now. We'll finalize our plans once Richard and Neil return from their scouting."

  As Henry stood to leave, he hesitated, then turned back. "Boss, there's one more thing. To get into the club, we had to, uh, 'borrow' someone's identity. He's the credit director at a bank. We've still got him tied up in the trunk. What should we do with him?"

  Hardy's eyes widened. "You kidnapped someone?"

  "We didn't have a choice," Henry explained. "The club's membership is strict, and we needed his card to get in."

  Matthew chimed in, "I say we tie him to a rock and toss him in the Los Angeles River."

  Hardy shook his head. "We can do bad things, but we can't be bad people."

  Henry and Matthew exchanged confused glances. Wasn't that the same thing?

  Hardy clarified, "We're gangsters, yes. We rob, run loan sharking, and sell illicit goods. If necessary, we kill. But we do this to survive and thrive in a world where the strong prey on the weak. Even legitimate businesses operate on similar principles. But we don't kill without reason. That crosses a line into darkness, where there's no coming back."

  Henry and Matthew nodded, understanding.

  "So, what do we do with him?" Matthew asked. "Just let him go?"

  "Of course not," Hardy replied. "Lock him in the cellar. Tell him he's been kidnapped and needs to pay a ransom to be released. We'll let him go after the operation is done."

  Henry and Matthew blinked. Did that really make Hardy a good guy?

  Hardy wasn't interested in extortion. His main concern was keeping the operation secure and avoiding any loose ends that could jeopardize their plans.