Clever Old Joe

After eating and drinking their fill, Lin An and Darnell each took a shower. The former then found Mary, who was washing dishes, and told her he was heading out... Lin An hadn't forgotten about the recruitment task he'd assigned to Old Joe, and he needed to go check on it now.

"Ah, you're going out this late? It's not very safe outside."

Mary looked worried; a good kid like Lin An wasn't safe in the Jamaica Community at night.

She wasn't worried about her own son going out, though. She knew her son well enough—with Darnell's build, he was the safest person around. Unless he ran into something unexpected like a gang shootout, no one would ever stop him on the street.

In fact, if the black men trying to rob passersby in the alleys saw Darnell, they would likely run away the moment they spotted him.

"It's alright, Aunt Mary. Darnell will be with me."

"Alright then, a man's career is indeed more important... Darnell, remember to protect your good friend and don't let anything happen to him."

"Got it, Mom, no problem, Mom."

The old-fashioned bicycle creaked along the streets of Queens. Darnell pedaled furiously, turning himself into a human engine and making the bike move as fast as a motorcycle, while Lin An sat steadily on the back seat, the bullet comments scrolling rapidly before his eyes.

[Old Joe actually brought people back! Two black guys, one Mexican, one white guy with a limp, and a white woman holding a baby.]

[This lineup is way too complete. Is this the homeless version of the United Nations?]

[Those two black guys look pretty honest. Listening to them talk, it seems they were Old Joe's apprentices back in the day.]

[The Mexican guy brought his whole family—wife and two kids. Is he here to work or to escape a disaster?]

[The guy with the limp is a veteran. Looking at his gait, that leg injury is pretty serious.]

[The white woman is holding a child. The kid looks like he's only a year or two old. What a tragedy.]

Lin An watched with an expressionless face. Soon, Darnell slammed on the brakes, and the bike wobbled to a stop in front of the furniture factory. He looked back at Lin An.

"Genius, can we take a cab next time? I have an Uber account, really, I do... What are you laughing at?"

Lin An was already walking toward the factory gate, waving his hand without looking back.

"Darnell."

"Yeah?"

Lin An stopped in front of the door leading to the basement.

"When we go down, don't say a word."

Darnell was stunned.

"What?"

"Stay silent. Don't say a single word, no matter what you hear or see."

"Why?"

Lin An looked him up and down, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.

"Because as long as you don't talk and just stand there, you're the coolest Ni Ge in all of New York."

Darnell immediately straightened his back, his expression filled with smug pride.

"Bro, you're right. You're absolutely right."

"So, shut up."

"Okay."

"Not a single word."

"No problem."

"After we go in, stand next to me, keep a straight face, and if anyone looks at you, just stare them down."

"Got it, genius. Don't worry, I..."

Lin An raised a finger.

Darnell's mouth snapped shut instantly, and he gave a thumbs-up to show he understood.

[When this Ni Ge isn't talking, he looks just like a gang boss.]

Lin An nodded in satisfaction and pushed open the basement door.

The smell of mold, sweat, and a faint, lingering scent of blood rushed toward them.

The dim, yellow light in the basement stretched everyone's shadows long across the floor.

Old Joe stood at the very front. Seeing Lin An enter, he immediately bowed, his thin face contorting into an expression of both awe and nervousness.

"Boss."

Five people stood behind him, the emergency lights illuminating their appearances.

The two middle-aged black men stood close together, not knowing what to do with their hands. A short, stocky Mexican man shielded his wife and children behind him, though he couldn't stop himself from trembling.

A white man with a limp leaned against the wall; his left pant leg was missing from the knee down, and his crutches were two wooden sticks he'd picked up somewhere. At the very edge, a white woman held a tightly wrapped child. The child wasn't crying, but the woman's eyes were red.

Old Joe cleared his throat, his voice raspy.

"Stand at attention, the Boss is here."

The five of them straightened up instantly, as if they had been struck by electricity.

Lin An walked up to them and stopped.

He didn't rush to speak, but instead scanned the room. Darnell, as agreed, stood expressionless behind him to his side, arms crossed. That mature face of his, under the dim light, was truly...

Quite intimidating.

Lin An began his introduction.

"Hello everyone, I am your boss."

His Chinese-accented English echoed through the basement. Every word was spoken slowly and clearly, carrying a strange sense of solemnity.

"Old Joe should have told you already; I'm short on hands here and need some help."

Silence.

None of the five spoke. It seemed the blood and shell casings left in the furniture factory today had truly frightened them, serving as an effective show of force.

"Old Joe."

Lin An turned his head.

"Have them introduce themselves, starting with you."

Old Joe nodded and stood straight, just as he used to when reporting to his boss back at the furniture factory.

"Boss, my name is Joe Thompson, you can just call me Old Joe. I've been a carpenter for thirty years. After the furniture factory went under, I just... well, you know the rest. These two..."

He stepped aside and pointed to the two middle-aged Black men.

"Danny and Michael, my former apprentices. Danny has been with me for five years, Michael for three. They're both good kids, don't do drugs, don't cause trouble, and they work hard."

Danny, the taller Black man on the left, nodded nervously.

"Hello, Boss."

Michael nodded along, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Hello, Boss."

Lin An nodded, signaling for them to continue.

Old Joe pointed to the Mexican man.

"This is..."

"I, I'll do it myself."

The Mexican man's English was heavy with an accent, each consonant sounding as if he were biting down on the words.

"My name is Hector Gonzalez, I'm Mexican. I've been in New York for... eight months. This is my wife Maria, my son Miguel, and my daughter Sofia."

As he spoke, his wife pushed the two children forward. The little boy was about seven or eight, the little girl five or six. Both children were skin and bones, but their eyes were large, looking at Lin An timidly.

"I..."

Hector swallowed hard.

"I can fix cars, I can weld, I can repair appliances. I can do anything, really, I can do anything."

Lin An looked at the man with the limp.

The man didn't wait for Old Joe to introduce him; he leaned on his cane and took a step forward. He stood unsteadily, but his back was held very straight.

"Alan Cohen."

His voice was low and flat, as if he were reading a report.

"Former United States Army, 3rd Infantry Division, 2nd Brigade. I stepped on an IED while on patrol in Ramadi in 2006. My left leg is gone below the knee, and there are still two pieces of shrapnel in my right leg that weren't removed."

He looked down at his amputated leg, his expression unchanged.

"Discharged due to injury, took the severance pay, spent it all on medical bills, couldn't find work, slept on the streets. That's it."

He finished, looked up, and stared straight at Lin An.

His eyes were very blue, but there was nothing in them, like ashes after a fire.

Lin An looked at him for two seconds, then turned to the last person.

The white woman held her child and took half a step forward. Before she could even speak, her eyes turned red.

"My name is Catherine Miller, and this is my daughter, Emily, she's a year and a half old."

Her chin trembled as she spoke, but every word was enunciated clearly.

"My husband... my ex-husband, he left after losing his job last year. The bank took the house, my car is almost out of gas, I have nowhere to go, I..."

Her voice choked up, and she hugged her child tighter.

"I can do anything, please, just give me a job. My daughter hasn't had a full meal in two days, I..."

"Catherine."

Lin An's voice wasn't loud, but it made her stop immediately, tears falling down her cheeks.

"You don't need to cry."

Lin An was still smiling, his tone like he was comforting a classmate who had failed an exam.

"I said, I'm short on help here."

Catherine froze for a moment, tears still hanging on her face, but her chin stopped trembling.

Lin An turned around to face the six people: Old Joe, Danny, Michael, Hector, Allen, and Catherine.

Six pairs of eyes looked at him.

Fear, anticipation, confusion, servility, emptiness, despair.

The economic crisis in the United States had too great and too wide an impact.

"Everyone."

Lin An said.

"I don't care what you did before. I don't care why you came here. I only care about one thing..."

He held up one finger.

"Starting today, I will provide you with food, shelter, work, and the most basic dignity. In exchange, you work for me. Whatever I tell you to do, you do it.

You can voice your opinions, but in the end, I have the final say."

Silence.

In the basement, there was only the hum of the emergency lights and the faint breathing of the child in Catherine's arms.

"Any questions?"

Silence.

Old Joe was the first to speak.

"No, Boss."

Danny and Michael nodded in agreement: "No."

Hector looked back at his wife, who gave him a gentle nudge, and he turned back around.

"No."

Allen didn't speak, he just switched his crutch to the other hand and stood a little straighter.

Catherine held her child and shook her head, tears falling again.

Lin An clapped his hands, as relaxed as a teacher announcing the end of class.

"Alright then, everyone can rest. Starting tomorrow, I have things for you to do. Old Joe, come out for a moment."

After he finished speaking, he turned and walked away, with Darnell and Old Joe quickly following.

In the narrow alley of the furniture factory, Darnell remembered the instruction not to speak and said nothing, while Old Joe looked at Lin An, waiting quietly.

"Old Joe, tomorrow you take your two apprentices to set up the furniture factory and create some camouflage so that people outside won't easily discover the basement. It would be best to soundproof it. Can you do that?"

"I can, Boss."

Old Joe nodded.

"There is still some lumber and tools left in the furniture factory. Since they aren't worth much, no one took them, but they happen to be just what we need."

"You handle the arrangements. If you have any needs, come to me..."

Lin An pondered for a moment.

"As for the Mexican, have him and his family clean up the second floor of the furniture factory. They will be responsible for the situation on the second floor from now on, but be careful with the camouflage.

Also, since Catherine has a car, have her go get gas, and then she will be responsible for driving you to sell the clothes. I will give you the money for the clothes and gas tomorrow; you tell Catherine."

"Understood."

Old Joe nodded happily. Listening to the Boss, it seemed he was the supervisor.

"As for Allen, take this medicine."

Lin An reached into his coat and pulled out Pianzaihuang, Berberine, and Ziyun Ointment produced in China and gave them to Old Joe.

"This is an antibiotic, it can be taken internally or used externally. This is for diarrhea, and this one is to be applied to the outside of wounds."

Old Joe took them with both hands, as carefully as if he were receiving a holy relic. He opened the box of Pianzaihuang to look, then closed it again.

"Boss, Allen's leg..."

"I know."

Lin An interrupted him.

"Since you brought him back, it means he is trustworthy. Give him the medicine and let him treat it himself. Tell him that once his leg injury heals, I have work for him to do."

Old Joe nodded vigorously, tucked the boxes of medicine into his inner jacket pocket, and patted it.

"Also."

Lin An pulled five twenty-dollar bills and a handgun, along with two magazines, from his pocket and handed them to Old Joe.

"Handle this money as you see fit. Use it to fuel Catherine's car, and when you feel Allen is ready, give him the Glock. Put him in charge of defending the abandoned factory to keep drifters or anyone else from attacking you."

"That's too much, Boss. We won't need this much..."

"Take it."

Old Joe's hands trembled slightly, but he took the money nonetheless.

"As for the food, sleeping bags, and clothes, did you see them in the basement?"

"I did, Boss."

"Distribute them. I'll have Darnell bring more new clothes later; see that they get handed out. Since I promised to keep them fed and clothed, I won't go back on my word."

"Tomorrow, make sure they all take a shower and get cleaned up. You'll have work to do soon enough."

"Understood, understood, Boss."

Old Joe turned and headed back to the basement as the chat feed rapidly refreshed before Lin An.

[Let me get this straight... the five people Old Joe brought back... Lin An, are you starting a company?]

[The organizational structure is already out: Old Joe handles logistics and construction, Danny Michael works as a laborer, Hector does repairs, Allen acts as security, and Catherine drives and handles procurement.]

[Everyone has a use; not a single one is redundant.]

[Old Joe is truly clever. That old bastard really has some street smarts. None of the five people he found can threaten him, they're genuinely reliable, and each one has a weakness being held over them.]

After reading the chat, Lin An turned to look at Darnell.

Darnell was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, staring into the distance with a profound expression, looking every bit like a mob boss contemplating life.

"Are you done posing?"

Darnell's expression crumbled instantly.

"Bro, was that pose cool? I've been practicing it—that 'I'm dangerous, don't mess with me' vibe... Did you see it? When I stared at those people earlier, that Mexican guy's legs were shaking!"

"I saw it."

"Really? Which one was shaking the most? Was it the cripple or the one with the kid..."

"Darnell."

"Yeah?"

"Take these things downstairs in a bit."

With a wave of Lin An's hand, several large plastic bags of clothes appeared on the floor, along with a pair of crutches—the crutches were an item recently gifted by the viewers.

Darnell shrugged.

"Okay... Bro, you just made Old Joe the supervisor and gave that cripple a gun... are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you worried that Allen will take the gun and run? A Glock is worth at least a few hundred bucks."

"He won't."

"Why?"

"Because he has nowhere else to go. None of them are on drugs, their heads are still on straight, and I'm not worried about them acting out."