The Right to Take Everyone Down with Him

With Franklin leading the way, Downton quickly reached the vicinity of the Iceberg Lounge.

It was only the vicinity, not the lounge itself.

Because the taxi was stopped by three burly men who approached it.

"Hey, what are you doing? Why are you bringing people here?"

The lead thug knocked on the window and peered inside after the driver rolled it down.

"Damn, isn't this Donnie? Walter's cousin or uncle or something?

Your cousin or nephew is working under Boss Oswald. Don't tell me you don't know the rules here?

Without permission, you cabbies aren't allowed to bring people here before the lounge opens!

And in case you forgot, the lounge opens at four-thirty every afternoon, and it's only three twenty-one now!"

As he spoke, the thug kept shoving his huge gold watch in the taxi driver's face.

Despite being berated like that, the driver did not panic. Instead, he waved the Franklins in his hand at the thug.

"Hey, buddy, take a good look at what this is, then take another look at who I'm driving.

Just for bringing this rich guy here, I got over three grand in tips. Guess how much more the rich guy has in his hands!"

After saying that, the driver turned around ingratiatingly and gave Downton an exaggerated bow.

"Boss, don't mind me calling you rich. These street guys don't like words such as 'millionaire' that make their teeth itch.

Anyway, I've brought you to your destination. Just follow them, and you'll find the Iceberg Lounge.

If they won't take you there, show them the money in your bag and broaden their horizons, haha!"

"Sure thing. You did a good job, buddy!"

Downton arrogantly pushed open the car door, then lifted his chin disdainfully at the three burly men around him.

"Quit standing around and take me into the lounge for a big drink. Then find me a dozen or so girls with big tits and fat asses and let them wash my face with their tits!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Downton scooped out a thick wad of cash and flung it at the thugs.

The thug was stunned by Downton's move and instinctively wanted to punch him, but the scent of fresh ink from the bills stopped his fist in midair.

Another thug leaned close and whispered in his ear.

"That rich idiot tossed us at least eight grand. There's even more in that bag, probably two or three hundred thousand at least, and it's all cash!"

"Y-Yeah!"

Hearing that, the thug who had been slapped in the face with cash finally came to his senses.

"It's three-thirty now, and there's still an hour until the lounge opens. Normally, you'd have to wait until four-thirty to go in.

But I can take you backstage, where the dancers get ready, for an hour."

The thug looked around, then leaned toward Downton and lowered his voice.

"Other than not being able to drink, you'll see even more girls than you would late at night.

But if the boss finds out, you can't say you came here to have fun. Say you're my cousin and I brought you here to broaden your horizons, got it?"

"Okay, buddy!"

Downton grinned at the thug's question and gave his shoulder a heavy pat.

"I like both of those things: more beautiful women and the little act we're putting on together.

Hurry up. Even if I can wait, my little brother can't much longer!"

Downton had never seen what a real party animal was like, but as long as he kept his mouth filthy, fooling these low-level thugs would not be a problem.

Besides, he had money to clear the way.

After getting Downton's promise, the thug indeed asked no more questions and began picking up the money with the other two.

Once they had collected it all, they led Downton to the entrance of the Iceberg Lounge.

Seeing them bring over a stranger, the actual mobsters guarding the door frowned.

"Bartel, what are you doing? Who's this Asian?"

"I'm his cousin, brother. Don't give me trouble, I just want to come see the place!"

Before the thug named Bartel could answer, Downton pulled out another stack of bills and stuffed it into the guard's arms.

Behind Downton, Bartel cast an envious glance at the cash in the guard's hands, then leaned over to explain.

"Buddy, he's my cousin. You don't think I'd lie to you, do you?

I told you guys ages ago that I had a rich cousin, and you said I was full of shit.

Tch. Hold on to the money my cousin gave you!"

Bartel forcibly squeezed past the guard and led Downton into the lounge.

After passing through an exceptionally dark corridor and descending two flights of stairs, restless music finally reached Downton's ears.

At his side, Bartel continued explaining.

"Normally, before opening hours, this place is for our family's own people to have fun.

The lights are dim, so stay close to me and nothing will happen."

As he spoke, Bartel brought Downton over to a table.

"Cheney, take your guys and cover our shift for me. I've got a relative here to see the place!"

As he spoke, Bartel pulled out seven or eight hundred-dollar bills and tossed them into Cheney's arms.

Cheney picked up the money and counted it, immediately breaking into a grin.

"Guys, Bartel's paying us eight hundred bucks to cover a shift. We've got to show him some respect!"

"Haha, it's rare for Bartel to be willing to spend money!"

"Yeah, Old Bartel, didn't you spend all your money on what's in your pants? You've actually got some left?"

"Let's go, let's go. I've had just about enough to drink anyway. I'm going to piss by the shore."

Everyone chimed in as they took their money and went to cover the shift for Bartel and his two companions.

With the guard duty handled, Bartel relaxed and actually led Downton into the dancers' changing room.

The sudden arrival of men did not make the dancers panic in the slightest. Quite a few of them even deliberately took off the stockings they had already put on, only to put them on again once men arrived.

Instead, the sexy woman in charge approached while waving a fan. After especially giving Downton's face a once-over, she sneered.

"Bartel, right? One of Oswald's useless little lackeys. You should thank me for remembering your name at all.

Other than that, you should know this isn't somewhere you're qualified to come, much less bring someone else. Are you high out of your mind?"

"You...!" The woman's words left Bartel furious and humiliated.

Of course he knew he was an insignificant lackey, and that a nice place like the backstage changing room was only for major clients and family captains to enjoy.

But he did not want someone else saying it out loud!

So Bartel grabbed Downton's arm.

"Big Sis Liv, I told you before that I wouldn't always be a little lackey, and I told you I really had a very rich cousin!

See? I brought my cousin here!

I'm not qualified, right? Fine, I'll leave, but you at least have to take good care of my cousin. You'll find out whether he's qualified!"

After saying that, Bartel gripped Downton's sleeve tightly, his face red.

"Just have fun here. Big Sis Liv is one of Boss Falcone's favorites, and she and her girls know how to serve you!

I'll be outside drinking. Call me anytime if anything comes up!"

"No problem."

Downton nodded to Bartel, then scooped another handful of cash from his bag and stuffed it into Bartel's hands before the dancers' suddenly brightened eyes.

Amid Bartel's confused yet delighted gaze, Downton smiled and said to him.

"Things don't look like they've been going especially well for you, but I appreciate how hard you've tried to help.

I haven't been in Gotham long, but my name will spread through this city sooner or later.

If you ever want to live differently in the future, follow my reputation and stand before me. Maybe I'll give you an opportunity, just as you gave me a chance to come here and have some fun.

Oh, and I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Downton. Downton of Downton Abbey!"

After saying that, Downton shoved Bartel by the shoulder and pushed him and his brothers out.

After the three of them disappeared, the leader called Liv gently shook her head.

"Cousins, huh? Tsk, tsk. What a boring joke.

Young man, you do have quite a bit of money on you, but if you let someone that insignificant bring you here to have fun, then you might as well not have brought it.

Sometimes an introducer is far more important than your fortune. No matter how much money you have, if you don't even have a qualified introducer, what woman do you think would be willing to kneel down and blow you?"

"Don't put it like that. I don't distinguish between insignificant people and important people."

Downton interrupted Liv while unapologetically sitting down on the most luxurious sofa in the room.

He thrust both hands into his travel bag, pulled out tens of thousands of dollars in cash, and flung it straight toward the ceiling.

Watching the bills rain down as some of the dancers could no longer restrain themselves from picking them up, Downton sneered, grabbed Liv's hand, and pulled her into his lap.

"As for an introducer's status, something so meaningless can't compare to generosity. I'm generous enough tonight, and I expect I'll be just as generous in the future.

So tell me, can a generous man like me ask you a question?"

"Of course."

Watching the girls happily stuff bills into their panties, Liv pursed her lips in a soft laugh and leaned close to Downton's ear. "But the question had better not be too difficult."

"I won't make things difficult for you. I just want to know where the Sabatino family's headquarters is."

Downton replied, but Liv suddenly went rigid.

Facing Downton's smile, Liv knitted her brows tightly and said.

"That question is difficult. Very difficult!"

"But you know the answer. This is the Iceberg Lounge, Falcone's core territory.

If you can manage a group of people in a place like this, even if they're only dancers, you must have seen and heard plenty."

Downton gently rubbed Liv's lower belly, then showed her the opened travel bag.

Following Downton's hand as it pushed aside the bills, Liv saw what was hidden inside the travel bag, and she could not help grinding her teeth, because its contents were perfectly clear.

Half the bag was called wealth, while the other half was power.

The power to take everyone down with him!

Competition during the new book period is fierce. If the results are even a little poor, they can collapse completely, and it becomes easy for a book to fail.

If you have even a little interest in this book, then even if you plan to stockpile chapters, please quickly flip to the final page and help this book gain a follow-up read.

Half-Dead has written completed premium works of two million and three million words. As long as this book performs reasonably well, I'll write several million words of it to entertain everyone.

I hope everyone can lend a hand. Half-Dead is deeply grateful.