Carson City—a small town of fifty thousand people—yet it holds the distinction of being the capital of Nevada. The state legislature, the courthouse, the prison, the land tax bureau, and the former U.S. Mint are all located here.
The shadow of past prosperity is still faintly visible, at least in the grandeur of the capitol building standing before them. It was said to have been built in 1870 at the staggering cost of $100,000—a sum back then sufficient to wage a small war. This attests to the once-booming wealth of Nevada and its thriving silver mining industry.
But now, with the silver mines depleted, even this majestic building, constructed from pure natural sandstone, seems to have lost some of its glory.
Nearby, the courthouse clock tower struck the hour. This red-brick structure was also built during the golden age of silver mining and features characteristic elements of colonial-era architecture.
Right next to it stands the former U.S. Mint, now repurposed for other uses. It's hard to imagine that over $49 million in silver coins were once minted inside that building. Nineteenth-century U.S. dollars—no wonder the West was a land where cowboys roamed free.
Carriages loaded with silver coins and ingots once departed from Carson, crossing vast deserts. They were the prime targets of Western outlaws. Robbing just one of these carriages could net tens of thousands of dollars—a fortune unimaginable to ordinary folks even in multiple lifetimes.
"We're not here to sightsee," Meyer Lansky gave Niall a pat, signaling him to keep up. Someone was waving to them at the steps of the capitol.
"Yeah, yeah…" Niall got the message and quickened his pace.
This wasn't a respectable job. Best to get it over with quickly. Niall knew better than to linger. Charles "Lucky" Luciano had pulled his hat low and was the first to enter the capitol.
The Italian mafia had roots across the country—wherever there was profit, there were mobsters. Nevada didn't have much to offer, so there were few operatives stationed here. But in booming California, the West Coast's economic engine, Italian mafiosi were abundant. Their contacts had arrived in Carson early to help the group find a political middleman.
In America, there's never a shortage of politicians seeking rent-seeking opportunities. Naturally, political middlemen of all stripes flourish. In a small city like Carson, such fixers weren't exactly common, but they were certainly not rare—it all depended on how hard you looked.
With a budget of five million dollars up for grabs, there were plenty of middlemen willing to negotiate on behalf of their patrons.
The trio arrived outside the legislative chamber. From within, there was no sound of fierce debate—only clauses being read aloud, indicating the session had moved into the voting phase. Either discussions had already concluded or, as often happens, the lawmakers put on one face for their constituents and another inside the chamber. After all, there were no television broadcasts—each could behave however they pleased.
Though the reading wasn't loud, Niall could still make out the words. Nevada had no power to repeal the federal Prohibition law, but everyone knew how American federalism worked. As long as state laws remained within constitutional bounds, they could be enacted—even if they conflicted with federal law.
In theory, no state dared openly defy the federal government. After all, the Civil War had already tested the limits. Americans themselves had trampled the constitutional principle that states were free to join and exit the union. The core ideals of liberty and democracy in the U.S. Constitution had long been thrown into the gutter.
In truth, the North had invaded the South, regardless of legality or morality!
Defying the federal government would invite retaliation, so states had learned to play it safe—elaborating or extending federal laws rather than directly opposing them. Legal language, after all, is just wordplay across time and space—whoever has the biggest stick writes the rules.
Take the Prohibition Act, for example. It allowed wine to be used for religious ceremonies in Catholicism, where wine symbolized the blood of Christ. Thus, even if hundreds shared a glass in such a context, it remained legal.
Nevada's adaptation acknowledged the necessity of wine for religious reasons and permitted its legal possession and production. If you were caught, you could simply claim you were attending a religious event—totally legal. Or, if you brewed wine to sell to the faithful—that was legal too. The faithful needed wine, after all.
The government had no right to interfere with religious freedom!
It was all just bald-faced lies. As long as people were given a plausible excuse, the law would be satisfied. Who would really stand up and object? Even if you wanted to, do you own the radio station? The newspaper? Without control over the media or public discourse, how could you voice opposition?
Niall listened for a while, then lost interest—same tricks, different day. For instance, if a private gathering of fewer than ten people was permitted under Prohibition, then...
Just divide the bar into sections—each section only serves ten customers. They're all "new friends" who just met a minute ago, having a private gathering. How about that?
Perfectly legal, officer.
After twenty minutes or so, the reading of clauses ended. Shuffling and chair movements echoed from within the chamber—likely the lawmakers rising from their seats.
The back door opened. Several legislators, along with their aides and secretaries, stepped out. Niall's ears, always keen though not intentionally eavesdropping, caught fragments of conversation. Some were managers from wineries, hoping for looser transport restrictions.
After all, neighboring California was the West Coast's famed wine-producing region—ideal for grape cultivation. Though not as refined as French wines, their sheer volume and affordability made up for it. Eventually, distinctions like "New World" and "Old World" wines would arise—America's wineries challenging Europe's longstanding dominance.
Others inquired about whiskey and other spirits. The reason was simple: the West Coast's agriculture had boomed, and massive amounts of corn were being harvested—corn traditionally used for alcohol. With agricultural technology advancing and prices plummeting, big agri-companies were desperate to see that corn fermented into profits.
The political fixer standing nearby craned his neck until he spotted his patron. He quickly stepped forward to intercept the legislator, whispered a few words in his ear. The legislator hesitated—but when the fixer raised five fingers, the message was clear.
Who could resist?
The legislator walked toward them.