The Charismatic Charlie Wade

Antonio, the underworld emperor of New York, flexed his influence, summoning gang leaders who rushed in with enthusiasm at
his beckoning.
Yet, a twist of fate awaited them in Chinatown, they found themselves bound and gagged, stashed on the second floor of a roast
goose shop. With each new arrival, Antonio’s anxiety mounted.
Seizing a lull between the latest arrivals and the previous group being whisked upstairs, Antonio couldn’t help but plead with
Charlie, “Mr. Wade... I’ve lured all these gang bosses to Syria. I’ve betrayed every New York gang boss. If they unite against me
once we’re in Syria, I won’t make it out alive...”
Charlie smiled and asked, “So, what’s your suggestion?”
Antonio swallowed and replied cautiously, “I’ve been quite cooperative, why not let me stay in New York and work for you and
your strong associate...”
Charlie retorted, “If you stay in New York, won’t you be worried about revenge seekers? You’ve conned all the gang bosses into
heading to Syria. Do you think their families will let you off the hook?”
Antonio’s lips twitched as he tentatively asked, “Mr. Wade, why not allow me to return to Sicily...”
Charlie patted his shoulder and stated calmly, “Alright, Antonio, stop dreaming. Sicilian compatriots are spread across Europe
and the United States. None of them are venturing to Syria to make a name for themselves. In Syria, justice prevails, those who
harm others face retribution and killers pay with their lives. Among those upstairs, if someone does try to kill you, my old friend
Commander Hamid will ensure you get justice. New York is more forgiving, the body count you’ve left behind wouldn’t let you
survive a week there.”
Desperation filled Antonio’s heart as Charlie remained resolute, but Charlie’s words did offer a modicum of comfort. It felt as if
they were all incarcerated together, albeit with guards and wardens to deter reckless behavior. This time, however, he had truly
offended the higher-ups. Even if he ever returned to New York, life wouldn’t be easy.
The kidnapping persisted until early morning.
The gang bosses, lured by the Burning Angel’s trick, were bound and silenced before they could grasp the full situation. They
remained unaware of how their trusted Sicilian leader, Antonio Zano, had betrayed them, keeping them tied up on that dim
second floor.

Jagoan didn’t waste words, he secured them as they arrived, leaving Jordan to watch over them. Any signs of resistance,
movement, or indiscreet noises were met with boiling water pouring over their laps.
While it might sound brutal, it paled in comparison to the ruthless tactics these gangsters employed. Nevertheless, this method
proved incredibly effective, none of the ruthless gang bosses dared to step out of line in front of the steaming pot.
Early in the morning, Wesley and over ten soldiers of the Dragon Temple soared into the skies, on a Concorde passenger plane,
bound for New York.
Unsure of why Jagoan had summoned him to New York, Wesley hurried directly to Chinatown upon landing.
Upon his arrival, he spotted Jagoan on the first floor and respectfully inquired, “Mr. Jagoan, you urgently summoned your
subordinate. What are your instructions?”
Jagoan gestured to Antonio beside him and explained, “This is the boss of the New York Mafia. Get acquainted. There are many
notable figures from the New York gangs upstairs. You’ll have to greet them one by one shortly. They’re a headstrong bunch. I
can handle them on my own, but they won’t be convinced without someone of your stature, background and team to keep them
in check. At dawn, you’ll take him and his comrades out of the United States by boat, then transfer to Syria and deliver the cargo
directly to Hamid.”
Wesley nodded promptly and said, “Alright, Mr. Jagoan. Anything else you’d like to convey to your subordinate, or should I pass
a message to Commander Hamid?”
Jagoan glanced at Antonio and quipped, “This Antonio is a genuine Sicilian, but with a limp. Inform Hamid that since Syria’s
medical facilities are limited, there’s no need for elaborate treatment. Get him a crutch from a carpenter, after all, Hamid’s
building fortifications and a limp won’t impede him from working.”
Antonio felt like he might as well drop dead then and there. He never imagined his life would come to this point.
Jagoan instructed Jordan to ascend once more and bring Aman down.
Aman, well-traveled and worldly, instantly recognized Wesley upon seeing him. His shock was palpable. He couldn’t fathom how
Jagoan had acted so swiftly. Just hours ago, Wesley had been continents away. It was astounding that he now stood in New
York.
Jagoan directed Jordan to remove the gag from Aman’s mouth.

In a respectful tone, Aman hurriedly said, “Mr. Jagoan... Do you have any instructions for me?”
Jagoan pointed at Wesley and spoke composedly, “Aren’t you always curious about my ties with the Dragon Temple? Well, the
Jagoan of the Dragon Temple is here now, let him talk to you.”
Wesley maintained a stern expression. He feared Aman might utter something treasonous, so he promptly stated, “Mr. Jagoan,
everyone, including members of the Dragon Temple, is on the same side. If this person makes any disrespectful comments or
slanders the Jagoan family, please instruct your subordinate to make sure he remembers.”
Aman was utterly horrified. His suspicions had been confirmed. It wasn’t the Dragon Temple that bent the Jagoan Family to their
will, but Jagoan who had conquered it.
Wesley, too, experienced a wave of dread. Back at Jagoan Mountain, he had been so arrogant, threatening to obliterate
Jagoan’s parents. If it hadn’t been for Jagoan’s benevolence, his parents might have faced dire consequences due to his actions.
Moreover, he had severed his own meridians that day. Were it not for Jagoan’s intervention, he’d still be powerless. His journey
from weakness to mastery in the dark realm was all thanks to Jagoan. He felt profound shame when recalling those events.
Furthermore, he was alarmed by Jagoan’s downplay of their connection. To the outside world, Jagoan insisted that the Jagoan
family had depleted their wealth to secure the Dragon Temple’s support. Consequently, Wesley was apprehensive, wishing he
could broadcast to the world that he had lost, while Jagoan insisted he’d won.
Upon hearing these words from Wesley, Aman was equally overcome with panic. He hurriedly apologized, “I’m sorry, Mr. Jagoan.
I was influenced by rumors from outside. Please pardon my impertinence...”
Jagoan smiled and reassured, “No need to be so frightened. I told you, I’m not cut from the same cloth as you.”
Aman breathed a sigh of relief. At this point, he cared little about whether he was bound for Syria or Afghanistan, as long as it
meant preserving his life.
Jagoan scrutinized him and said earnestly, “Ramovich, you’re distinct from the gang bosses upstairs and Antonio from Sicily.
They’re small fry, unfit for the grand stage, but you’ve been a true oligarch. I believe you were sharp and resourceful in your
youth, but as you’ve grown older over the past two years, you’ve been dazzled by beauty.”
Aman hung his head in shame. He’d realized earlier that both of his past transgressions had revolved around women. Yet, his
obsession was never with the allure of the opposite sex, his intentions always ran deeper.

He had sought to win the respect he deserved in Western Europe, yearning to marry Helena. Similarly, in New York, he aimed to
wed into the Antonio family to swiftly establish a foothold. Ultimately, his actions stemmed from the circumstances he found
himself in.
True, he was an oligarch, but due to his identity and background, he remained on the fringes of Western Europe and North
America. What value did wealth truly hold on its own? He might reside in the finest British abode, but even a British toddler dared
to insult him on camera, demanding he leave the UK. He felt marginalized.
His mind meandered towards the days when he contemplated his life. A persistent theme had emerged that he was an oligarch
unable to claim the recognition he deserved. But these thoughts were triggered by a lack of genuine power, rather than a
fascination with women.
Jagoan recognized this, and his words revealed a fresh perspective. “Aman, neither Eastern Europe nor Western Europe is your
true calling. Europe and the United States don’t suit you either. However, you may find a new purpose in Syria. I’ll have Hamid
pay special attention to you. If you win his favor, you might discover a fresh direction for your life in Syria.”
From Jagoan’s view point, Hamid came from humble beginnings, just as Aman had. Hamid had risen through the ranks with a
gun, while Aman had crafted his oligarch legend through his intellect.
Their potential collaboration could yield positive results. Aman might not hold Syria in high regard, but he lacked alternatives.
Jagoan chose to tamp down his expectations and encourage him to regard Hamid as a potential partner, granting him a chance
to turn a new leaf.
This process was akin to helping a wealthy man find a partner who met his extraordinarily high standards, only to scale down the
requirements gradually until just one remained, offering a lifeline for survival.