Page 24 of Kingmakers, Year Four

Sabrina and I head into our Extortion class, taught by the brilliant Professor Ito. He’s a small man, slight, well-dressed in impeccably-tailored black suits. He’s the only professor I’ve seen who wears a tie; his are hand-dyed silk. His lecture style is clear and methodical, which is the only reason I can keep up with the avalanche of information.

Sabrina tells me that he used to operate a Moriarty-level network of crime in Hamamatsu. It was immensely profitable until it attracted the attention of the Yakuza. After a long and bloody battle, Professor Ito sold his holdings for a boggling amount of money and retired to Kingmakers.

“I bet he only teaches here a couple of years,” Sabrina whispers to me as Professor Ito takes his place at the front of the classroom. “He’s probably waiting for the heat to cool off in Japan. Lots of professors do that. It’s a sanctuary here—nobody can attack you. By the time you go back to society, it’s all water under the bridge.”

I chuckle. “Depending how badly you pissed off your enemies . . .”

“Extortion,” Professor Ito says, hands clasped loosely in front of him, and jaw tilted up so his voice rings clear and melodious across the heads of the students. “It is the bedrock of our business. The lifeblood of mafia. The one tool you must always use . . .”

He gazes around at us, his eyes clear and piercing behind the round lenses of his glasses.

I’ve seen stupid-looking people turn out to be smart. But I’ve never seen a man with that bright and avian stare who was anything less than a raptor.

“Why is that, do you think?” he barks at us. “Why is extortion so necessary?”

“Well . . . you get money,” the pudgy boy sitting next to me says, with the confused expression of someone who knows his answer is too obvious to be correct.

“There are many ways to get money,” Professor Ito says. “None is more crucial than the others simply by nature of providing cash.”

He waits, the seconds stretching out agonizingly slow. His teaching method always involves questions to the class and torturous pauses afterward. I’m not sure if he’s trying to motivate us to learn by burning the memory of our ignorance into our brain, or he really believes we can figure out the answer on our own.

Instead of staring at the blank faces around me, I try to consider his question. What purpose does extortion serve besides money?

“Control,” I say aloud.

“That’s right,” Professor Ito inclines his head toward me. “It isessentialthat you control your entire territory on a fundamental level through its businesses and citizens. Everyone must pay you. Everyone must be involved. And in return—this is the crucial part, ladies and gentlemen!You must provide a service in return.Extortion is not robbery! They pay for protection, and you provide that protection to them. Mafia are, in effect, a professional security force. An army controlled by a king. You Heirs will be that king.”

I copy his words carefully into my notebook.

Sabrina sits on my other side, arms folded over the chest straining the bounds of a very tight blouse. Her top button is barely hanging on for dear life, a struggle observed with great interest by our male seatmates.

Sabrina never takes notes or reads the textbook. Yet she beats me on every quiz.

Professor Ito continues. “The people accept the rule of the king when the kingdom prospers. Businesses, neighborhoods, families: happy, safe, and thriving. You must never become greedy, demanding too much. And you must never fail to provide the benefit inherent in the extortion contract.”

Sabrina raises her hand.

“What about the cops?” she says. “They already consider themselves the ‘professional security force.’ ”

“The police are a rival gang,” Professor Ito says. “Never forget that. They don’t actually want to destroy you—then they themselves would cease to exist. But they want to be the most powerful gang in the city. If you intend to take that spot, you will have to force homage from them.”

He explains how to collaborate with the cops—how to punish rivals and disloyal employees within our own ranks by handing them over to the police as token sacrifices. How to bribe and blackmail officers, and how to liaise with the politicians that control the police force.

While Professor Ito is talking, I’m remembering instances when I saw my father take the actions described. I’m beginning to understand the theory, the process of what I had only known by sight.

It’s strangely addictive learning about the world I’ve always inhabited. Like a hand pulling back a gauze curtain so I can see clearly.

Sabrina seems equally fascinated. She keeps her cool gray stare fixed upon the professor wherever he walks in the room, instead of getting bored and gazing out the window as usual.

She’s been a good roommate so far—reasonably tidy, or at least willing to clean up her mess now and then. Communicative and cheerful. I’d say we’re becoming friends.

The only problem is that Sabrina already had a bunch of ready-made friends when she got to Kingmakers. I feel awkward horning in on their group when I know they probably don’t want me around.

“So remember,” Professor Ito says, wrapping up his lecture, “enforce the law of silence. This is the one point on which you must be ruthless: snitching is punished more harshly than non-payment. Silence is control. Silence is collaboration.”

He takes off his glasses, polishing them with a silk cloth drawn from his breast pocket. When he puts them on again, the lenses glint like diamond.

“Extortion controls your territory. Other schemes layer on top: drug trafficking, gun running, gambling . . . always remembering that the frosting must not cause the cake to collapse. Never let your city become a war zone. Keep profit and quality of life in balance.”

---