Baccano! - Volume 16 - Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Gunmeister Smith makes his comeback, with nobody the wiser

Speakeasy Jane Doe

The speakeasy was fairly spacious, with many seats but almost no customers.

That was only to be expected: This underground bar was quite literally built underground—and what lay above it was a New York graveyard.

The interior was as eerie as if it had been designed to match the location—from the ambience alone, one might have believed it was a vampire’s lair.

The proprietor had a badly scarred face, and he was dressed entirely in black. Behind the counter, there was a shotgun and an enormous machete to scare off any potential robbers. Most of the handful of customers seemed to feel they’d come to the wrong place, and the majority would probably never be back.

The atmosphere was far from conducive to enjoying a round of liquor—

—but a group of people were laughing as if they were doing just that.

“Ah-ha-ha! Boy, do I know it! This place gives me the creeps! Which is a good thing, in my book… Even the owner seems like something from another planet, which means it’s so creepy that I can forget completely about the troubles of the world and have fun! The liquor here is the best. It’s watered down to about one part in a thousand, meaning there’s barely any booze in it at all! Even I don’t have to worry about drinkin’ it.”

“Ah-ha-ha! One part in a thousand! That’s incredible! It’s practically nonalcoholic!”

“Nah, nah, that’s what’s so great about it. They say a shark can smell even a single drop of blood from miles away, see? My heart’s just as sensitive to alcohol as those sharp-nosed sharks. It means when I get drunk, it hits way harder than for most people! It’s a thousand-for-one deal on intoxication… Don’t you think it’s a bargain? Damn, this is getting fun. Dunno why.”

“It really is a bargain… I sense a new business opportunity here. If we could help people get drunk more easily, we could water down the liquor in proportion and sell it… This could work! It’ll make everybody happy!”

He flashed an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and the man in the blue coveralls smacked it with glee.

“This is fun… Let me tell you a fun story! Wow, I haven’t enjoyed a drink this much in quite a while!”

“No, no, I could say the same. It’s been a long time since I met anyone this interesting.”

Next to this animated conversation, Graham’s friends were quietly drinking their liquor, wearing expressions that were impossible to describe.

“…Forget enjoying a drink. That stuff may be watered down a thousand times, but Graham hasn’t touched a drop of it yet anyway.”

“He can get drunk without even touchin’ the booze. Must be nice.”

“You wanna switch personalities with Graham, then?”

“D-don’t even joke, Shaft…”

They all smiled thinly, sour-faced.

Meanwhile, Graham had completely warmed up to the man he’d met just that afternoon.

Somewhere in New York An alley

Turn back the clock to one in the afternoon on that intensely sunny day.

On the outskirts of Manhattan, a shout both chilling and hot with passion cut through the lazy heat.

“I don’t know what’s going on here. I do know you were chasing that brat. Meaning the fact that the brat was in a hurry, and that he knocked the wind out of me, and that the sun is hot today— It all goes back to you. And in my sadness, in my joy, let me tell you one thing!”

Tightening his grip on his wrench, Graham unjustly accused the man in front of him of crimes he couldn’t possibly have committed.

“You. You are the root of all evil!”

Then, just as the silver bludgeon was about to come down—

“I… I am?!”

—the would-be victim shouted, and the fast-moving wrench stopped dead.

“It… It can’t be. It’s this hot today because of me…? That’s terrible! I’m sorry; I completely didn’t notice…! How can I make it up to you? I had no idea this town was in crisis because of me!”

Then he gripped Graham’s hand firmly and shook it vigorously.

“Thank you… Thank you so, so much! You’ve shown me the error of my ways!”

Graham turned back to his companions, looking dazed. “Hmm… I’m a little lost here. Is he thanking me, Shaft?”

“Yeah, although I dunno what’s going on, either. What should we do? This guy’s a real loon.”

Graham’s friends were shooting confused glances at one another, but the man wasn’t bothered by their strange looks. He turned back to Graham, eyes shining.

“Okay! Now that we’ve got the cause figured out, let’s think about how to conquer this heat! If it’s ’cause of me, should I maybe try jumping into the river and cooling myself off?”

“Oh, this is fun… Let me tell you a fun story! It just hit me! In that case, if we jumped in the river, we’d all cool off! Okay, Shaft, let’s head for the river, ASAP. If we let the river wash us out into the ocean and howl at the setting sun, don’t you think that’s its own form of happiness?!”

“No, really, don’t! This ain’t a clean mountain river here!” Shaft yelled back.

Meanwhile, the cheerful man was smiling at all of them equally. He appeared to be mulling over this matter, and then—

“What about dumping strong liquor over our heads? It’ll cool us off as it evaporates!”

“That’s brilliant! Hell… Shaft, this is nuts. We’ve got a genius here. He’s the savior coming to rescue us from our ennui! Dammit… What idiot said he was the root of all evil a minute ago?!”

“That’d be you, Mr. Graham.”

“How can this be?! Dammit, I’m sad! Life is insanely sad! I treated the savior of the world as the root of all evil… He came to help us, and I treated him as an enemy… In the end, am I the world’s enemy? Or is the world my enemy?! Either way, it’s hopeless now… I can never be forgiven.”

Graham took the shock with typical melodrama, falling to his knees.

The man who had appeared in the alley smiled kindly at the eccentric fellow, then patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s all right. Even if the world doesn’t forgive you, you only need to have one person who does. Just smile for them. If nobody forgives you, then I’ll forgive you! Even if I don’t know what for!”

“I’ll be damned… The savior of the world said he’d forgive me, his enemy…! Shaft, what do I do? How am I supposed to respond to this?!”

“Sleep. Please. Just watching this is giving me a headache.”

After that…

Graham had gone to a nearby hideout and poured some of their rubbing alcohol over his head, then breathed in enough fumes to get blind drunk on them.

The man who’d introduced himself as Elmer had taken the fallen Graham to a nearby doctor, and so…

“I can’t believe it! Not only has my enemy forgiven me, he’s shown me mercy!”

…Graham was impressed in his own unique way, and they’d ended up hitting it off.

And now back to the present.

As they listened to the overly excited conversation at the next table over, Shaft and the others were whispering to each other with bemused expressions.

(“Still… You know what this is. I’ve thought so for a while now, but…most of the guys who hit it off with Graham are real loonies.”)

(“Well, birds of a feather flock together. So what does that say about us?”)

(“Yeah, well… Ladd was about as over the edge as they come…”)

(“Honestly, I’m pretty impressed we’re still okay after hangin’ around with him.”)

(“Well, Ladd won’t kill anyone he’s decided is his friend. Maybe people with weird beliefs attract each other.”)

(“Case in point: this Elmer guy.”)

(“Yeah, he said he ‘wanted smiles from everyone in the world’ with a straight face. I don’t think he’s religious or anything.”)

A little while ago, when Elmer had told Graham his goal, Graham’s eyebrows had drawn together.

“Oho… Smiles from everyone in the world? What’s in it for you? How would it change the world? It’s a totally impossible dream, and I bet you’ll get a lot more sadness than smiles along the way. They’ll mock you and call you a hypocrite. Maybe all those smiles will be because they’re laughing at you. Why do you want to see smiles that badly after all that? Are you saying you’ll swaddle the world in happiness?! What for?!”

Elmer’s response to that long speech of a question was a brief one.

“Because it’ll make me happy.”

After a few seconds’ silence—Graham tapped his own forehead lightly with his wrench.

“I see… Yeah, that makes sense.”

(“He grins a lot, too, but his eyes were serious. I’m telling you, the guy ain’t all there. Even the hypocrites don’t usually say ‘I’m working for world peace for my own sake.’”)

(“Although Graham’s his own kind of nuts for thinking it makes sense.”)

The men kept on muttering to each other, but then—

—a bell rang from the entrance to the speakeasy, announcing a new arrival.

“Huh…?”

When Graham’s group realized who this new arrival was, they looked at one another.

Even though it was summer, the man was wearing a long coat that fell below his knees, and his general appearance was patently suspicious.

In the opening between his hat and the collar of his coat, they could see his sharp eyes and glimpses of what looked like a big scar on his face.

Graham was still too deep in conversation with Elmer to have even noticed the guest.

Shaft and the others, though, exchanged looks, confirming they recognized the man.

(“Hey, that’s… Isn’t that ?”)

(“Yeah, if he’s wearing a coat at this time of year, it’s him for sure.”)

(“Come to think of it, he wasn’t at the doctor’s place today.”)

(“They let him out of the hospital?”)

(“Oh, here he comes.”)

As the man in the long coat approached, the group of delinquents nodded to him.

“…Hey.”

The only response from the man in the long coat was a brief murmur as he strode right up to Graham’s chair.

Graham and Elmer were still oblivious, shooting the breeze about nothing in particular.

“Hey. Kid Graham. How’ve you been?”

When the tall man loomed up beside their table, their conversation stopped dead. And thanks to the speakeasy’s naturally oppressive atmosphere, that meant a perfect silence fell over the place.

It felt as if time had stopped, though no one knew how long.

The scarred proprietor began polishing glasses, and as the cloth made little squeaks— Graham’s half-open eyes went wide.

“Smith!” he cried.

“Keh-keh… Haven’t seen you in a while.” A mirthless laugh issued from inside the man’s collar. Still standing, he snapped his fingers and called “The usual” to the proprietor.

“The usual? You haven’t been by in more than six months; what are you talking about?” The proprietor sounded cross, but he smoothly began making a cocktail.

“I was away on a little trip. A journey to find myself.”

“? What’re you talking about, chief? The Gandors put you in the hospital, didn’t they?” Graham asked indifferently.

“Ghk…!” Smith’s expression froze. “Wh… Who told you a bald-faced lie like that…?”

“This nutty saloon girl with two katana. She was saying, ‘I’m the only one who came out without a scratch, so my skills are better than his, amigo!’ and looking for clients.”

“That little wench… I’ll kill her… I’m gonna kill her…!”

Laz Smith.

Or as he called himself, Gunmeister Smith: the blacksmith who creates genius snipers.

Not only was this a long name, meister (artisan) and smith (blacksmith) were confusing, so nobody actually called him by that name. However, the hitman had asked the town’s delinquents to spread the rumor that everyone did.

According to the man himself: “I think it sounds impressive… I wield all sorts of guns. Meaning that for every gun I pick up, I’ve created a new sharpshooter for that gun. That’s why it’s ‘Gunmeister Smith,’ not ‘Gunsmith’…” But most people stopped listening to his explanation partway through.

For some reason, the explanation had impressed Graham (“I see… Wow!”), and he’d helped spread the rumor.

At the beginning of that year, Smith had joined a few other hitmen and picked a fight with the Gandor Family, and on top of severely injuring both his legs, they’d broken his face.

As a result, he’d been hospitalized for more than half a year and had finally managed to get himself discharged.

That aside, while Smith was ready to kill his former ally, Graham was over the moon at this encounter with one of his few mentors in life. He got up from his chair and spoke cheerfully, dexterously spinning his wrench in one hand.

“Ahh… What a happy day this is! Not only did I find a simpatico drinking buddy, I got to run into you, Smith! If this keeps up, is my brother Ladd gonna bust outta the big house and drop by for a visit pretty soon?! Whaddaya think, Smith?!”

“Ladd, huh…? We aren’t on the best of terms.”

Apparently, Smith already knew the man; as he remembered his face, his eyebrows drew together.

“Yeah. When my brother Ladd sees guys like you, chief, he heads right over to bump ’em off! You’re only still here because you helped us out, I bet.”

“I don’t plan to go down that easy.”

With a brief chuckle, Smith opened one half of his coat, showing them the inside.

Beneath that coat were multiple holsters, and even at a casual glance, there seemed to be more than ten handguns in there. There were even shotguns hanging from it.

“Whoooooa, damn! That’s real swell, Smith! Hey, nice job not getting hauled in by the cops even though they took you to the hospital!”

“Dr. Fred doesn’t seem to care about that sort of thing. He kept ’em under my bed for me the whole time… After so much time sitting around, it took me a full day to clean them.”

As they looked at the coat, Graham’s eyes shone, and beside him, Elmer gave an appreciative “Wow…”

“Hmm? By the way, who is this?”

“Oh, lemme introduce you! This guy’s Elmer, my benefactor and the savior of the world!”

“…The savior of the world?”

“From what he tells me, it’s his goal in life to make everyone in the world smile,” Graham said. There was no scorn in his eyes, only genuine admiration.

“Is he a clown? Does he earn money making jokes?”

“No, really! His big project is to make every single person on the planet smile at the same time! It sounds tougher than world domination! Pretty keen, huh?!”

Smith thought hard for a little while, then slowly spoke. “Oho… He’s another fine lunatic. Keh-keh… However, if he’s trapped by lunacy, then he’s like me. Risking your own life to make people happy or kill them or what have you—only people caught by insanity can do any of that.”

“Whoa… You’ve still got that philosophy, huh, chief?!”

Graham’s eyes shone like a little kid’s, while beside him, Elmer smiled and nodded eagerly.

“Yes, you’re right! People do call me crazy quite a lot. This friend of mine, Huey, has said it about three hundred times already. If lunacy is your philosophy, though, that’s terrific.”

“Keh-keh… I see you have a good head on your shoulders. Huey—the name reminds me of that terrorist they arrested last year.”

“Actually, I think we’re probably talking about the same person.”

“Keh-keh… Ridiculous. No, a true lunatic would think it was the truth, wouldn’t he? A man attempting to cover the world in smiles, friends with a terrorist friend… Are you mad, or are you sane? Or simply delusional… Either way, you show promise.”

Even though the word terrorist had come up several times, the mood at the table was somehow still cheerful. Looking at it, Shaft and the others all began to put their hands to their foreheads.

(“Oh, come on… Smith’s still doin’ this?”)

(“Yeah, I wish he wouldn’t go on about lunacy in public. It’s embarrassing to watch.”)

(“Not to mention the thirty guns in his coat.”)

(“He’s tough, though.”)

(“He ain’t bad.”)

(“Except he lost to the Gandor execs.”)

(“I hear that coat weighs just about sixty-six pounds.”)

(“Loony is right.”)

(“Well, Graham does love people who go against the grain.”)

(“He’s basically a kid.”)

(“Yeah, it’s a problem!”)

(“Can’t believe that Elmer fella is following the conversation.”)

(“I guess freaks of a feather really do flock together.”)

(“Wait, did he say he’s friends with a terrorist? Really?”)

(“Can’t be… It’s gotta be a joke, right?”)

(“Well, whichever it is, it’s probably safer not to bring it up too much.”)

Without even noticing that Shaft and the others were whispering among themselves…Smith abruptly turned serious, and he took several guns out of his coat and began to line them up on the table.

“Kid Graham, you said you wanted a few guns, right? Take ’em.”

“Let me tell you a joyous, happy story! Are you sure, chief?! I can really have these?!” Graham’s expression of delight was unusually concise.

Smith closed his eyes and launched into a lecture. “You may… Listen, Graham. The very existence of guns is lunacy. Picking one up means infusing the bullets with your own sanity; with every shot, a little more of it slips away. Understand that—”

Partway through, he opened his eyes, then broke off.

“…What are you doing?”

What had happened while he was talking?

The parts of each neatly disassembled gun were scattered all over the table.

“Ahh, happiness! I never knew such happiness could exist! I’ve always wanted to cut loose and take apart a gun at least… And so many different kinds at once— I haven’t felt so fulfilled in ages! My heart is so full, I don’t even know what to do with it! Yes, I do! I should give thanks! Thank you… Thank you so much, Smith!”

“You—… You little punk, you took apart five guns in just a couple of—! Dammit, I wondered why you kept saying you wanted a gun! This was it?!”

Looking at the pile of useless tiny components, Smith reached out toward it, trembling.

Shaft and the others gulped, watching Smith and Graham uneasily, wondering if tragedy was about to erupt here.

Then Smith grabbed the components with his fingers—

“Dammit, Graham! If you wanted to break them down, you should’ve told me! I thought it was odd. You’re all about that wrench, but you started saying you wanted a gun! So this is what that was about…! Still, Kid Graham, your wrecking arm is top-notch, as always. The components aren’t scratched up at all. Heaven’s sake. Your skills are lunacy.”

“Chief, when you say I’m crazy, it feels like a compliment. It’s all embarrassing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” By the time Smith had retorted with a disapproving tut, he’d reassembled one of the guns.

“Huh?”

Shaft’s group looked at one another.

Less than a minute ago, that gun had definitely been broken down into plain old scrap metal, its parts mixed with the components of other guns.

Right now, it was as whole as it had been before Graham had dismantled it and was disappearing into Smith’s coat again.

While the delinquents were still busy being startled, the second gun came back together.

Stowing that one in his coat as well, Smith went on in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Just so you know, if I hadn’t gotten careless, I wouldn’t have lost to the Gandors, either. Something really is wrong with them. I thought I was no match for them at the time—but if I’d kept my cool, I could’ve won.”

“Then why’d you let ’em win? …Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm, but that question might hurt you or upset you. Should I be a grown-up and not ask, then? …What do you think, Smith?”

“…The way you talk is as irritating as ever, you little pest. Dammit, I was careless because…I was spooked, I guess you could say. I mean, you know, they’re immort— Ah, never mind. Forget it. When you live long enough, you’re bound to run into at least one thing you just can’t explain. Especially if deep in the underbelly of society.”

He’d finished two guns while he was talking, and now only the components of the final gun were left. He picked them up with his fingertips, juggling them in his hands like beanbags.

As if each piece had a life of its own, they slipped back into the places where they belonged, one after another. Of course, when that gun was finished—there wasn’t a single component left on the table.

“That’s just like you… Let me tell you a story that’s just like you. You put the guns I’d taken apart back together so easily… Smith, your lunacy would make even the polar bears at the South Pole freeze up!” Graham cried.

“True. And I was already impressed that polar bears came all the way from the North Pole to the South Pole to see Smith’s technique!” Elmer added with honest admiration.

Meanwhile, Shaft and the others reacted as if they’d just seen a magic trick, then shook their heads in resignation.

(“…I really can’t keep up with nutjobs.”)

(“You said it.”)

(“But we’re following Graham, aren’t we?”)

(“Does that mean we’re a buncha nutjobs, too?”)

(“Life just doesn’t pay off, does it…?”)

Despite the negativity, Graham kept cheerfully chatting with his new friend and almost-mentor, whom he hadn’t seen in a while.

That said, Smith kept standing the whole time, even when he drank his liquor. As he explained, “I can’t sit down with all these guns under my coat.”

“Now then…,” said Smith after some time, “I’m glad I got to check up on you, Kid Graham. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

“Aw, c’mon, Smith. You could hang out a little longer.”

“No… I’ve got a job immediately after this.”

“When you just got out of the hospital? You really are nuts, chief.”

“That’s what I keep telling you.”

Smith grinned and pulled his hat down low on his head, apparently enjoying himself immensely.

“If there’s anyone sane in the murder business, I’d love to see him.”

One hour later An abandoned building somewhere in New York

“……”

After leaving Graham’s group, Smith shifted into his “hitman” state of mind.

He was on an avenue near Grand Central Station. Among the buildings lining the street, there was one that was surprisingly unoccupied.

Inside, it was neater than he’d expected, and there was hardly any dust at all.

However, the interior was unfinished, and lines had been drawn here and there with paint.

What were those lines for?

As he studied them curiously—a gloomy voice spoke behind him.

“They’re planning to tear this building down soon.”

“……”

“Beg pardon. Mr. Smith…I presume?”

Smith nodded slowly, and the man shook his head with relief.

“Ah, my apologies. I’m sorry for asking you to meet me at a place like this.”

“……”

As Smith kept a wordless eye on him, the man quietly went on. “I can’t thank you enough. Even if it was on the introduction of the Runorata Family, I’m very grateful you’d come here for a nobody like me.”

His tone was courteous, but deep down, he was afraid of the hitman.

At least, that was how it sounded to Smith.

The perfect job to mark his comeback seemed to be on its way in.

Hidden behind the collar of his long coat, the gunmeister quietly spoke. “Let’s see… Shall I do something to prove my skills and set your mind at ease?”

“Oh, no, no, that won’t be necessary.” The man hastily waved his hands—then added, “After all, even a child could do it, as long as he’s willing to kill this person so I don’t have to.”

“What…?”

Smith suspected the comment was a veiled insult, but remembering how he’d lost his cool before, he locked the rising darkness inside himself.

“I see… So who do you want me to kill…Mr. Fledgling Star Journalist?”

“Oh dear. The Runoratas told you about that?” The man—Lester—heaved a big sigh, then did his best to keep his trembling under control as he continued. “Well… The thing is, I’d like you to kill the person who made me famous.”

“What?”

Every syllable Lester spoke was heavy and sharp.

Almost like hedgehog quills meant to protect him.

“Ice Pick Thompson… I want you to get rid of him—before the cops catch him.”