BIA Ch. 39

“Are you saying I shouldn’t go to college?”

“No, you should go to college.”

But he said I should give up on graduating.

“It’s best to get expelled as dramatically as possible. So that Cedric Kalisz might hear the rumors and come looking for you first.”

As expected, Edgar Derby was planning to let me infiltrate into the Kalisz family.

“The Kalisz family is doing pretty well these days. In situations like this, they would accept anyone at the bottom rung. If someone wants to be a member, they’re in. They need to increase their numbers. But these guys never promote them to executive positions. They can’t be sure who might have infiltrated.”

Therefore, I had to make Cedric summon me directly.

“Cedric Kalisz is quite loyal, though not as much as your father. He understands what affection between people is. If your father had been Irish, he would have taken care of you long ago.”

But my father was, strictly speaking, British-American, which was quite fortunate for the FBI.

“But do I really have to become an executive?”

“Of course. That’s how you become boss.”

Edgar Derby spoke so casually that, for a moment, I thought the Kalisz family had a separate high-ranking executive position called ‘boss.’

“We plan to make you the new boss of the Kalisz family.”

Finally, Edgar Derby revealed his grand project, one they had been developing for the past five years and would continue to develop for at least another twenty years.

“If you cannot eradicate them, taming them is another option. To do that, replacing the leader is essential.”

Within the FBI, this was called the RAC (Requeening a Colony)^[1] Project.

“Is that… is that as easy as it sounds?”

I barely managed to speak. To be honest, at that moment, I wondered if Edgar Derby had gone senile. After learning my father’s secret, I had watched the movie Donnie Brasco. If that movie wasn’t an exaggeration, even infiltrating as a low-level member and gaining mid-level trust wasn’t easy. But to become the boss?

“It’s not easy.”

Edgar Derby admitted.

“But you’re not doing this alone. We’ll help you. We’re behind you. We’re all a team.”

You can do it. Edgar Derby repeatedly emphasized this.

“You are very intelligent. And brave. Just like your father.”

The old man was digging into my weakest point again. No matter how smart I pretended to be I was just an eighteen-year-old kid. On the other hand Edgar Derby was an old man who had been through thick and thin and especially a veteran FBI agent who had been in interrogation rooms more than his own home. Manipulating a kid like me who thought he was the smartest person in the world would be a piece of cake.

“The current high-ranking members of the Kalisz faction are around Cedric’s age or older. There weren’t many mid-level members to begin with and most of those were killed or injured during the Dipronet Incident six years ago.”

The Dipronet incident refers to the fight that broke out six years ago when the Kalisz Family members were divided into the Seymour group in charge of the east side and the Roger group in charge of the west side. It was called a fight but the scale was bigger than most gang wars. At the time there were open gang killings for several days and Cedric who had gone to Dipronet’s bar where Seymour was to mediate the fight was almost killed in a surprise attack by a Roger group member who hadn’t heard the news. But thanks to a subordinate who blocked him at the last minute Cedric was not hurt at all and instead the subordinate who was shot died on the spot. That subordinate was my father Bennett Wiseman.

“He has a son. I understand he’s the same age as me.”

“Chester Kalisz.”

Edgar Derby shook his head saying that guy was already a lost cause.

“The mafia has one iron rule. Sell drugs, but don’t use them.”

“Does anyone actually follow that?”

At my scoff, Edgar Derby stuck out his tongue, making a comical face. It meant, as if.

“But it’s also a problem if you make a big deal out of it like Chester Kalisz. At least you should do it after you become a high schooler. If a middle schooler gets expelled for throwing a drug party at school it’s impossible to fix that isn’t it?”

“He’ll die soon.”

“That’s better. He’ll suffer less.”

So if things went well a bloodless takeover was possible that was the FBI’s perspective led by Edgar Derby. Of course this was an extremely optimistic prediction.

“It’s dangerous. Something might happen during the plan and you’ll always have to live with threats and anxiety as long as you live as a mafia member regardless of us. Of course you might die unexpectedly like your father.”

So I won’t force you. Edgar Derby said in a calm tone.

“The choice is yours. Think it over and tell me when you’ve made up your mind. I’ll fully understand even if you say you won’t do it.”

To cut to the chase I accepted their offer. Even though Edgar Derby had put so much effort into persuading me he seemed surprised that I had made such a decision. He stared at me for a long time with a disbelieving expression and then cautiously asked me why.

“Your name.”

“My name? Why?”

“Have you read Slaughterhouse-Five?”

“Kurt Vonnegut? No, I haven’t.”

“There’s a character named Edgar Derby in it.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. Though the last name has a different spelling.”

When I said it was my favorite novel Edgar Derby made an interested expression and then immediately said “But why is that?”

I wanted to explain the feeling of having to accept a situation that I could never change by comparing it to a bug in amber like in the novel but it was too much of a hassle. But if I tried to express it with the single word ‘fate’ it felt too grand. So,

“Well it’s like that.”

I answered using the phrase that appears more than a hundred times in the book—so it goes—and Edgar Derby nodded as if to say whatever even though he had a puzzled expression. It was literally so it goes.

Getting into college went smoothly. Since I didn’t have to worry about employment issues like others I went to Columbia University’s English Department which was my first choice based on my aptitude. Graduation wasn’t a problem for me either so I didn’t care about grades and stuck to a relaxed schedule only choosing the lectures I wanted to listen to. Still I maintained pretty good grades.

As soon as the semester ended after finishing the first semester of my junior year I went to Quantico. There I received training at the naval base right next to the FBI academy. Usually FBI trainees have to go through a 20-week training program but there was a separate 8-week program for those who were hired for special purposes like me. During that time there were a few other special hires like me but I didn’t see their faces for 8 weeks. We took classes and training at different times in different places.

It was Edgar Derby who had flown all the way to Quantico who handed me my FBI ID card after all the training was over.

“Tear up your ID card right away. I’m giving it to you because I figured you should at least hold it in your hand once, now that it exists.”

He said that the hiring documents including the certificate of completion were destroyed at the same time as the ID card was printed. Therefore the only thing that could prove that I was now an FBI agent was this ID card in my hand.

When I returned home I wondered what to do with the ID card and tore off the photo and signature part and burned them. And the rest of the part with the FBI letters printed on it I tucked behind my father’s picture frame in the living room. I just wanted to do that.

The semester started and the time was approaching when I had to think about ‘the most dramatic way to quit school’ that Edgar Derby had mentioned. But I found the answer in an unexpected place. Or to be more precise the answer walked in on its own.

At the time there was a famous duo at our school’s law school named Dominic Larson and Dennison Young. Both were tall reasonably good-looking and their parents were rich. And they flaunted it by driving nice cars. Also the women they took in their cars changed every time and the important thing was that it was plural not singular. Every weekend there were rumors that someone had been assaulted by the two of them at some party or that it wasn’t just the two of them but their friends too but there was no way to confirm the truth.

Thankfully, those two were kind enough to pick a fight with me at a bar. Of course they could have ignored me and looked for other prey. But the reason I chose them as my sacrifice wasn’t because of some petty sense of justice. It was just because they provided a good excuse.