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The Cadillac V-16, released in 1930, discontinued in 1940.
One of the top luxury cars before World War II, it was the world's first mass-produced 16-cylinder engine vehicle. It was custom-only, with low production—just over four thousand units sold in 11 years, and an average price of $8,000.
Josh saw one yesterday when he was buying a car… That used car dealership was also one of the biggest in Chicago.
The seller at the time asked for $9,000—double Josh's entire net worth.
The terrifying price made Josh retreat immediately.
That's right, it was also a second-hand car, but while other second-hand cars depreciated, this one appreciated.
And this one in the garage was a silver convertible—overflowing with artistic flair.
By comparison, Josh's own 1934 Ford 730 De Luxe was basically industrial trash.
Josh fell in love with this imposing luxury car at first sight.
He didn't expect a black market car dealer to be able to get a hold of a car like this.
Since the Cadillac V-16 was custom-only, its owners were undoubtedly wealthy or noble. After all, the steep price of $8,000 wasn't something an average rich man could afford.
So theoretically, people capable of owning this car were definitely not to be messed with by ordinary car theft rings. Even car thieves wouldn't dare steal it.
That's why seeing this car in a place like this was rather jarring.
But Josh didn't care—since he saw it here, then it was his.
However, Josh didn't rush out immediately. Instead, he first took off his overcoat, pulled a leather jacket from his system warehouse and put it on, then put on a hood… God knows when he had prepared that.
After getting fully ready, Josh finally pulled out the newly bought Thompson and walked out.
"Who are you? Whoa whoa whoa, sir, let's talk this over!" Hearing the noise, the two men inside the warehouse immediately turned alert and shouted.
But upon seeing the Thompson in Josh's hand, they instantly raised their hands, their tone softening right away.
Josh was quite pleased with their attitude. Look at that—aren't these Italians rather friendly? Not nearly as bad as in the movies.
"Don't worry, I just need a car. Where's the key for this one?" Josh asked the Mediterranean-looking middle-aged man in a muffled voice through his mask.
"Oh no, sir, you can't take that car. It's reserved for Mr. Scarpa. If you take it, he won't spare us," the middle-aged man said anxiously upon hearing Josh was after the Cadillac V-16.
"Scarpa? Who's that?" Josh asked curiously upon seeing the man's reaction.
"Mr. Scarpa is a high-ranking member of the Moretti family. He runs all the red-light businesses in the east side of Chicago," the man answered. "This car is for him, just temporarily stored here. Someone will come pick it up this afternoon. If you take it, we're all dead."
"The Moretti family? And who are they?" Josh asked.
"Sir, you must be new to Chicago?" the slightly chubby young man on the side chimed in.
"So what if I am? So what if I'm not?" Josh shot back. In a way, he really had just arrived in Chicago.
"The Moretti family is one of the biggest Mafia families in Chicago. Anyone who's been around here for a while would know their name. Friend, let me give you some advice—if you want to keep living in Chicago, don't mess with them," the young man said with a sycophantic smile.
"Oh? Sounds impressive. Why don't you tell me about the major powers in Chicago? Other than Al Capone, I really don't know anyone else," Josh mused.
"Heh heh, Mr. Capone is certainly worthy of our admiration, but that was more than a decade ago. Now, Chicago is ruled by the Moretti family, the Clementi family, and the Vinci family. Hmm…maybe the Triads too," the young man explained to Josh.
Although Josh had no plans to join the underworld, he listened with great interest. The guy had a good storytelling voice—it felt like listening to a live radio drama.
"Didn't expect a car thief like you to be so well-informed. What's your name?" Josh asked after the explanation.
"I'm Joe Barbaro. Just call me Joe. He's Mike. Sir, since we've met, that makes us friends. We can't let you leave empty-handed. As long as you don't touch this car, you can take anything else you like from this warehouse. Oh, and there should be some cash in Mike's safe too—you can have that," Joe said with a greasy smile, trying to curry favor with Josh holding the Thompson.
"You're quite sensible. But too bad—I only want this car. I'll say it one more time: give me the keys," Josh said coldly, making it clear he had no intention of heeding their warning.
Josh's words made both Joe and Mike's faces drop. Clearly, everything they had just said went in one ear and out the other.
"Sir…" Joe tried to speak again.
"Shut up. Either give me the key or die here. Don't think I'm easy to fool. Since this car is here, that means you either work for the Moretti family or are in business with them. Even if I don't take this car but take something else, would you really let me go afterward?" Josh sneered. "So what if it's the Mafia? I'm robbing the Mafia."
Indeed, getting tangled with the Mafia wasn't a good thing. But ever since they stole his car, the grudge had already been formed. If he didn't take the Cadillac, it would only make it easier for these two to explain things later—there was no benefit for him.
Besides, Josh wanted revenge specifically on the one who stole his car—Joe. How could he let him off easy?
Honestly, if he didn't want to attract the cops, Josh even felt like spraying them both right now.
That's why Josh didn't care one bit about offending the Mafia.
More importantly, ever since he entered Little Italy, he had kept his face partially hidden with an overcoat, and now he wore a hood. Given the tracking and investigation tech of this era, unless he showed his face, no one could find him.
Faced with the threat of a gun, Mike—though extremely unwilling—could only slowly pull the keys from his pocket.
"The keys for that other car too. And the safe key. Tell me the combination," Josh pointed to his old Ford.
"You'll regret this!" Mike complied, but couldn't help throwing in a threat.
"Whether I'll regret it or not, I don't know. But if you say another word, I'll make sure you don't even get the chance to regret it," Josh replied disdainfully.
"Now, both of you—get in the car!" Josh opened the Ford's car door after taking the keys.
Once the two obediently got in, Josh closed the door and locked it.
The door locks on cars from this era worked just like house locks—they could be locked from either the inside or the outside.
If the people inside didn't have a key, they weren't getting out unless they smashed a window.
And if they dared smash a window, even though Josh had never killed anyone before, he wouldn't mind pulling the trigger.
After locking them in, Josh, rather wickedly, poured a kettle of coffee into the Ford's gas tank under their watchful eyes.
After that, he began searching the warehouse.
His main targets were the desk and the safe.
Inside the safe, there wasn't much cash—only a few hundred bucks.
But there were a decent number of ration coupons.
Gasoline, candy, liquor, coffee—all rationed supplies. Not a huge quantity, but enough for four or five people.
In this particular time period, these things were more valuable than simple money.
Josh pocketed them without hesitation.
He searched the desk, but didn't find anything useful—except another M1911, same model as the one he bought earlier.
Following the "pluck every feather" principle, Josh took it too.
Then Josh stashed a bunch of spare tires from a corner of the warehouse—out of sight from the two men—into his system warehouse.
In this era, synthetic rubber was still only mass-produced by the Axis powers. The U.S. was still relying entirely on natural rubber for tires.
With Southeast Asia—the major rubber-producing region—cut off by Japan, America's only remaining rubber source was South America. As a result, during the war, tires became a more critical strategic resource than gasoline.
Finally, with his loot in hand, Josh left the warehouse in the Cadillac under the furious gazes of the two Italians locked inside the Ford.