{Carroll 188: Gemini}

Carroll 188: Victor and Vincent Lee, back when they were still conjoined.





{Where We Keep Them}

Victor lives in a small safehouse off 36th Avenue and 4th in Chicago. If you want to get in without being riddled by his bodyguards, you'll need the password. It's "A drop of sunshine." They should let you in and use Victor however you need.

Vincent is holed up in the basement of a small red-brick house at the corner of Washington Ave and Wilson St, in New York. The password for his end is "A splash of moon." We use the top floor as a staging point for New York Operations, so be discreet.

UPDATE: We burned what was left of Victor and dumped it the lake. We still have a open bounty on Vincent's head, but I don't think anyone's going to take us up on that.





{Who Knows about them}

If you're reading this file, Chappell has already decided you're important enough to know. Besides the twins' bodyguards, only a handful of people know about their existence. Everyone else is fine not knowing where their bullets and medicine and orders come from, so long as they get them.

Their bodyguards are carefully selected from our most loyal candidates. This Carroll is integral to our expansions into New York, and we can't afford to lose them.

UPDATE: The orders still stand. We don't let anyone not in on this fuck-up find out. We don't know for sure who snitched, but I'd be willing to bet that it was Vincent himself, the ingrate.

What's left of Victor's place.





{How We Worked with them}

Chappell always was a fan of the circuses. Or so he says.

But whether he enjoyed them or not, the fact remains that on the night of June 15th, Chappell attended the one and only Chicago show of Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting. When he came back, he just called it a sad collection of sideshow freaks and magicians. But he noticed one pair that were different. Two circus freaks, twins. The Legendary Lee brothers, is what their act was called. Apparently they used to be Siamese-type ones, joined at the hip and all that. Got separated by an experimental surgery. Magicians, the pair of them, able to "transfer objects between them using the lost magicks." Anything one swallowed, the other could cough up, no matter how far away. It sounds like complete bullshit, but it's true.

Regardless, after the show, one of them came up behind him, walked up to him in the stands and swiped the pocket watch right from his pants. Chappell, being raised on the streets and whatnot, knew a pickpocket when he felt one and grabbed the delinquent. Kid was halfway through swallowing the pocket watch and his brother was halfway through pulling it out of his gullet. They were an opportunity, and Chappell dealt in opportunities. Herman Fuller has a certain reputation for how he treats folks that leave his little freakshow, but the Spirit could provide the protection they'd need.

They have some strange-ass Chinamen names, but we call them Vincent and Victor.

Update: Stupid bastard doesn't know what kind of enemy he's made. You don't answer someones's hospitality with trying to kill them, much less the leader of the Spirit. Victor's going to be the lucky one when we get wind of where Vincent is and toss him in the dungeons.

{how we use them}

UPDATE: Making sure Vincent suffers is important, but not enough to engage in an all-out war with the Feds for. He'll get his comeuppance soon. But for now, we'll send messages using runners and telegraphs, just like we always have, and it'll work, because it always has.

The brothers have been in light use ever since they came into our care. But ever since Operation Empire ramped up, they've been working overtime. We sent a convoy to New York to hole up with Vincent and used the two of them to transmit orders. The Feds have been keeping tabs on our men, and Chappell is worried about wiretaps. Can't wiretap a man's gullet. Just roll the message into one of the small plastic containers and give it to whichever one you're with. They'll work their magic.

PREFACE: The following documents were recovered with the original document. Due to their associated subject matter, they have been included with this file.

From The Desk of Richard Chappell Vincent, Annoying as it may be, we can't risk keeping you here. The Feds are breathing down my back and I wouldn't be surprised if the Suits were crawling around in my garbage alleys. Besides, you'll do better work helping us transmit messages and take control. The booze trade is getting cramped, and our growth has slowed down. Boston and New York are places infested with crime, but not our particular brand. If your bodyguards keep hassling you, tell me. I'll get Palazzio to set them straight.

Chappell, Your incursion into New York City is costing us. This small outpost is constantly under threat. We are fairly sure the Irrealta have mafiosos stalking the streets, and we discovered a bloodied knife on a doorstep just yesterday. This is beyond dangerous, it is suicidal. It is only a matter of time before one of the Families tries to get rid of us, and I'm not sure we can hold them off. Mathers is doing his best, but he can't protect us all. I demand you end this foolhardy attempt. -Vincent.

From The Desk of Richard Chappell Vincent, I like you and your brother. You're loyal, and you're assets. I don't like you enough to excuse sedition. The Spirit is expanding, and I intend to be at the forefront of the wave of groups using Carrolls for profit. No one has ordered me around since I was nine, and they found that kid at the bottom of the Chicago river. I don't intend for that to change. You are going to stay in New York, and you are going to do your goddamn job. Remember, after everything, you're a Carroll, and your contract hasn't changed. Don't do any stupid shit, and the Families shouldn't go after you. Not until we work out a deal. Just be quiet, sit in your room, and cough up a message every once in a while. Not a difficult duty, Vincent.

Chappell, I'm sorry, but I can't stand by any longer. I don't have any love in my heart for the folks that aren't in the know, but your own men, Chappell? You're throwing them into a meat grinder, and you know it. It's only been two months since this operation started, and yet we've already lost almost a dozen men. Guns can't solve everything, even if the guns are guns no man was ever meant to touch. I beg of you, reconsider. As I write this, Mathers lays in a cot in the next room over. He is dying, Chappell. A bullet fired from a Bonanno goon pierced his stomach. He is not expected to live through the day. These are the lives you're ending in search of profit we do not need. The Spirit is already the strongest and most powerful gang in the States. The Syndicates of Europe are the only ones that can match us. We do not need to waste men that can be used better elsewhere trying to break into a Fed stronghold city. -Vincent.

Chappell, You never responded to my last letter. Given the fact that we are still here, I can see that you have decided to ignore me. But that is not my concern at the moment. Earlier, you asked me to tell you if the men were unkind to me. Despite our disagreement, I hope you will allow me this generosity. Last night, a couple of the men tore me from my bed. They beat me with the bottles they stole from the shipments. Even as I compose this, I can feel glass shard digging in my skin. I could smell whiskey on their breath. I do not wish to speak of it more than I must, but suffice it to say that I did nothing to warrant this. I plead you to take action, even if it is the last kindness you allow me. -Vincent

From The Desk of Richard Chappell Vincent, Don't be naive, kid. Nothing my men do is done without my permission. That was my reply. Hopefully you learned your lesson and we can go back to being merry old pals. The Spirit really does value you both, you know that?