Chapter 53: Crossing the Line
With a loud clang, the door swung open. The burly man inside stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at Ennio. “This isn’t a playground. Coming in and out might bring unnecessary trouble. You know what I mean?”
Casinos in the Federation required a special operating license to function legally, so most were technically illegal. However, Jingang City was unique. Its strategic location attracted sailors and travelers from around the world, prompting the state government to authorize casinos under strict regulations.
To operate legally, casinos needed full documentation and special licenses. Legitimate casinos paid hefty taxes—83% of their income went to three levels of government: local, state, and federal.
For the Kodak Family, which ran legal casinos in Jingang City, this left about 9% profit. Yet even that was an astronomical amount, making them one of the cleanest families in the city compared to others steeped in illegal activities like smuggling, kidnapping, extortion, and protection rackets.
While the Kodaks weren’t completely uninvolved in such crimes, their casino profits largely met their financial needs. Compared to the other families, whose very essence seemed steeped in corruption, the Kodaks appeared almost saintly.
But precisely because of the massive profits, the Kodak Family dealt with illegal casinos more ruthlessly than the government. To maintain their dominance in Jingang City’s gambling industry, they gave illegal operators two options upon discovery:
There was, of course, a third, unofficial option: conflict. Gunfights often erupted, leading to another “miracle” rise in Angel Lake’s water level.
Ennio pulled out a cigarette from the pack Lance had given him and handed it to the bouncer. “I went out to buy some smokes,” he explained.
The bouncer scrutinized the cigarette, then Ennio, before stepping aside to let him in. “Don’t make things difficult for me,” he warned.
“Thank you,” Ennio said, slipping back inside.
The gambler he had lent money to was back at the blackjack table, waving cash as he placed his bets. Blackjack’s appeal lay in its semblance of fairness—at least compared to other games.
The gambler was having a lucky streak, already up twelve dollars. It seemed he had recouped his losses.
Ennio didn’t care. Even if the gambler repaid the loan early, the agreed interest was still owed.
The noisy atmosphere, thick with the smell of cigarettes, sweat, bad breath, and foot odor, wove a web of desire, trapping everyone in the basement.
By evening, they had closed four deals, earning fourteen dollars in commissions. Not everyone borrowed the full hundred; many only took thirty or fifty, which reduced the payouts slightly.
Even so, fourteen dollars kept the young men euphoric. They were simply standing around, watching for anyone who ran out of money and offering loans—barely lifting a finger to make money.
The ease of earning made them giddy. “Money is so easy to make,” was their unanimous thought.
Morris, however, seemed less thrilled. “My mom can make three bucks in fifteen minutes,” he joked darkly.
As night fell, the casino grew busier, but Ennio and his friends left. The company had closed for the day, and Lance had gone home. Seeing the success of Ennio’s loans, Lance decided to rent a small property nearby to set up a “branch office.” A cheap place costing two or three dollars a month would suffice—it was for business, not comfort.
When the casino closed, the dealers gathered to chat.
“Did you hear? That gambler lost over a hundred bucks today,” one blackjack dealer said, laughing.
The others chuckled. As skilled professionals, they had techniques to ensure the house always won. For instance, they often placed three ten-point cards at the bottom of the deck during shuffling, enabling them to control who busted and who didn’t. ℞âＮǒᛒË𐌔
Additionally, they always ensured the top card in the deck was an Ace, which could count as either one or eleven in blackjack. Combined with the last three cards, it guaranteed a house win.
Gamblers rarely noticed these tricks, focusing instead on their own hands.
The owner of the casino, gnawing on a beef bone, perked up. “Where’d he get that much money?” he asked. He knew most of his patrons and was familiar with the gambler in question, who usually wagered just a few dollars before leaving.
The dealers shrugged. “No idea. He went out for a bit and came back with cash.”
Another dealer chimed in, “Yeah, someone at my table did the same—left broke and came back with money.”
The casino owner frowned, wiping his mouth. “Find someone who knows them. I want to know what’s going on.”
If patrons resorted to crime to fund their gambling, it could bring trouble to his doorstep. The police loved raiding illegal casinos—not just to confiscate cash but to extort the operators for leniency in court.
Before long, they brought in one of the gamblers for questioning.
“How much did you lose today?” the owner asked, his tone calm yet firm.
“Thirty-seven bucks,” the gambler replied with a grimace.
The owner suppressed a laugh. After expenses, dealer cuts, and other costs, he’d netted about twenty-five dollars in profit from this fool. No wonder people called the Kodak Family a cash cow—they raked in unimaginable sums daily.
“Shame about your luck,” the owner said. “Why’d you bet so much? Payday isn’t for another two weeks. You didn’t steal to gamble, did you?”
The gambler paled as the bouncers loomed closer, their intimidating presence enough to unsettle anyone.
“N-no! I borrowed thirty-five bucks!” he stammered.
The owner’s expression darkened. “I wasn’t aware we loaned money today.”
The cashier and other dealers shook their heads in confusion.
The owner fixed his gaze on the gambler. “You’d better explain yourself. You know the rules here.”
“It wasn’t from the casino,” the gambler admitted hastily. “Morris and some other kids lent it to me. Low interest, flexible terms…”
The owner turned to the bouncer. “You let them in?”
The bouncer hesitated, then nodded. “He said he was showing his friends around.”
The owner’s lips curled into a smile. He gathered the leftover beef bones into a dish and handed it to the gambler. “Take these home for the kids,” he said.
The gambler, surprised, thanked him profusely. “Your generosity is like the sun’s warmth…”
“Save the flattery,” the owner interrupted, laughing. “I’m not refunding your losses.”
As the gambler left, the owner’s smile faded. Picking his teeth with a steel pick, he muttered, “Someone’s crossed the line.”