Protection Money

Linda had serious business to attend to, so Lin Rui could only go run the food truck alone.

Before leaving, he asked what had happened to bring such a large-scale response to the neighborhood.

After learning that "seven homeless people had died for no apparent reason, drawing serious police attention," he merely gave an expressionless "Oh."

"There's something very unusual about that kid," Peggy whispered to her friend Linda as she watched Lin Rui walk away.

"I also think he has a bearing unlike most people." Linda thought carefully before describing it. "He doesn't have the reserve you usually see in Asians. He's especially quick-witted, and a little too mature."

Peggy promptly laughed. "Is that why you want to get your hands on him?"

"No, I just like him a little," Linda denied again. In her mind, she added the rest: That kid is also especially good at making money. Only a fool would refuse to get involved with him.

Lin Rui squeezed onto the New York subway during the morning rush hour, traveling from the Bronx to Broadway in Manhattan, where he found the food truck parked near 50th Street.

The Mexican couple, Adrian and his wife, were waiting for him to take over. They were a little worn out after running the truck all night, but they could not hide the smiles in their eyes.

"Morning, Leon." Adrian's English was somewhat broken, tinged with a heavy Mexican accent. But he took the initiative to greet him, his tone cheerful.

"Morning, Mr. Adrian." Taking over the truck, Lin Rui first checked the cash register. "How was business in the early hours?"

"Very good. We sold everything. Especially around three or four, when lots of people were heading home after partying at nightclubs. They wanted something to eat and drink to replenish their energy, too."

Adrian answered.

"Around four or five, employees on early shifts started showing up, one after another. They needed breakfast too, and had to find somewhere to get it."

Lin Rui counted the money in the register and compared it against the inventory list, finding a little more than expected. "Did you raise the prices? This is at least a hundred and fifty dollars more in sales."

Adrian suddenly grew awkward and said with a trace of unease, "The original stock of burgers, sandwiches, and things sold out before four.

"I didn't want to close up. I wanted to earn a little more, so I called a friend and had them hurry up and make over a hundred tacos and bring them over. We sold some of them."

Tacos were Mexican wraps, with corn or wheat tortillas wrapped around fillings such as meat, vegetables, and cheese, served with various sauces. They tasted good and were quite popular in the United States.

Mexicans really were hardworking. As long as there was money to be made, a single phone call in the small hours could get someone out of bed to make tacos.

After checking that there were no major discrepancies in the money, Lin Rui first paid the Mexican couple their daily wages. At ten dollars an hour, eight hours for each of them came to a total of a hundred and sixty dollars.

He also handed them the hundred-plus dollars from selling tacos. "Since the tacos sell pretty well too, let's put them on the truck's menu.

"I'll speak to Mrs. Jones and start with a standing order of a hundred a day. If they sell well, we can consider increasing it."

Lin Rui did not make an issue of their buying and selling stock on their own, and even let them keep all the proceeds, but he also took the opportunity to formalize the arrangement and eliminate potential problems.

In New York, where the minimum wage was six dollars an hour, earning over two hundred dollars in one night left Adrian and his wife smiling sweeter than honey. They had no complaints about how Lin Rui handled it, and were instead grateful that he would buy their goods.

"By the way, Linda has something to do and won't be coming. I'll be too busy on my own. Could you find me a temporary helper?"

One person could run the food truck, but two made it easier.

Adrian immediately offered to stay and help. As long as he was paid ten dollars an hour, he was willing to work twenty-four hours a day and even live in the truck.

"By the way, Leon, there's something I should warn you about first." Adrian hesitated for a while, then said quietly, "You know that doing business at night in Manhattan means paying protection money, right?"

Hearing that immediately soured Lin Rui's mood.

In New York in 2005, gangs were even more rampant than they would be twenty years later.

Although Manhattan had relatively ample police resources and was far safer than Brooklyn or the Bronx, gang members still operated behind the scenes.

Gang members did not look like the rat-faced, shifty-eyed figures in films and television, nor did they readily pick fights to show off their toughness, but they had plenty of ways to make it impossible for a small business like a food truck to keep operating.

For instance, sending a few people over every day to cause trouble, spit a little, and shout a few insults would be enough to make tourists on the street give it a wide berth, severely affecting earnings.

"In the early hours, a customer came and ordered a burger but wouldn't pay. He also demanded five hundred dollars a day in protection money, or he'd arrange for people to come make trouble."

Adrian sighed repeatedly as he spoke. "Leon, maybe you've never dealt with street thugs like that. They have no bottom line.

"Your food truck is doing well. Better to spend a little money and avoid getting into trouble.

"Even if you're not afraid, we are. I can bargain with those people. Maybe three hundred dollars would do."

Lin Rui's good mood for the day vanished, replaced by righteous indignation. He had finally managed to feel out a way to make money, and someone actually wanted to snatch a bite of it.

"What sort of person came to collect protection money?" Lin Rui asked.

"A balding middle-aged man with a South American accent." Adrian warned him again, "Leon, let's get the business going first. Don't get into it with gangs. They really can destroy someone easily.

"If you don't want to pay, stay away from Broadway at night. But you'll run into gangs in other neighborhoods too. People collecting protection money are everywhere."

Lin Rui shook his head. "Five hundred dollars a day is fifteen thousand a month. Even if we only pay three hundred, that's still close to ten thousand a month.

"Ordinary people work themselves to death and still can't make five thousand dollars, and now someone wants to take that much just by saying a few words?

"Besides, I don't even know who they are yet. Maybe it's some small-time thug trying to extort a payout, or maybe it's an organization with real power."

He took a deep breath and snapped, "I'd rather hire an off-duty cop than let a gang profit."

Police officers in the United States could work side jobs after their shifts to earn extra money, commonly known as "night-shift cops."

On streets running wild with "zero-dollar shopping," one could often see a few brightly lit stores left untouched. A closer look would reveal two uniformed police officers sitting inside.

They did not care if there was murder and arson in the street. The "night-shift cops" only protected the shops that paid to hire them. They were very "conscientious."

Adrian smiled bitterly. "Leon, don't act out of spite. 'Night-shift cops' are expensive. One night costs more than three or five hundred.

"Besides, we're just a food truck. 'Night-shift cops' might not even be willing to come.

"How about this? I'll discuss it with Mrs. Jones. Leave this alone and just pretend you don't know. Then you won't be angry about it."

Lin Rui gave no definite response and instead began the food truck's regular operations.

The two of them sought out the places in Manhattan with the most tourists. Lin Rui made full use of his high charm, recommending food to customers and collecting payments.

Daytime business was as booming as ever. Whenever passing tourists saw Lin Rui, they would come over for a few looks even if they were not hungry, spending two or three dollars on a milkshake or something similar.

Once the daytime meal rush ended and Mr. and Mrs. Jones came to take over, Lin Rui specifically asked Adrian, "That guy collecting protection money you mentioned showed up in the early hours, right?"

"Yes." After working both the night and day shifts, Adrian was utterly exhausted by then. Without thinking much of it, he answered, "That guy showed up after midnight. He said his name was Doyle."