Baccano! - Volume 21 - Chapter 20

Chapter 20 They Can’t Avoid Getting Involved

Several days laterEvening Millionaires’ Row

In the district of Manhattan known as Millionaires’ Row…

The street was lined with mansions whose owners had managed to hang on to their wealth, even in the midst of the deep recession—but the voice issuing from one of those opulent homes couldn’t have been more depressing.

“This is bad… We’re doomed…” Jacuzzi Splot was crouched in a corner of the Genoard residence’s great hall. Stress-induced gastritis had him hugging his stomach.

“Honestly, Jacuzzi! This is no time for moaning. We only have a couple of days left until the casino party.”

Tears were streaming down the tattoo on Jacuzzi’s face. “W-well, Nice, I mean… We’ve learned the rules of the casino games and stuff, but if we do anything weird, they’ll shoot us dead on the spot…”

“We’re not going to cheat, so we’ll be fine. Besides, we don’t have to go anywhere dangerous; we’ll just stay near the room Mr. Firo’s group is running. No one’s gonna shoot us at the Martillos’ tables, even if we do something odd.”

“B-but…I’ve been thinking. They told us to pretend to be gamblers and energize the place, but…j-just hypothetically, say…what if we go all in on a bet to try to make Mr. Firo’s tables exciting, and we actually win? The Martillo Family would take a loss because of us, right? And if they got mad and broke out the machine guns…”

“It’s all right. This is the Martillos we’re talking about, not the Russos.”

Jacuzzi’s own pessimistic vision had made him go pale, and Nice admonished him gently, but—

—they were interrupted by an apology from a guest who’d come to stand behind them before either of them noticed. “My grandfather really did make a terrible nuisance of himself, didn’t he?”

“Oh— No, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have…”

Ricardo Russo, current head of the Russo Family, went on as if she wasn’t bothered at all. “No, what he did was really unforgivable.”

“Oh, n-no, we’re sorry; we really regret it.” Jacuzzi answered Ricardo’s polite apology with a hasty apology of his own. “We’ve got nothing against you, Ricardo. And I mean, you’re even paying for our food…”

“You’re letting me stay in this magnificent house. Of course I’d pay rent.”

Ever since arriving at the Genoard mansion, Ricardo Russo had been purchasing groceries for Jacuzzi’s entire group out of her own pocket, calling it a rent payment. Jacuzzi suspected the amount was far too much for rent, but Ricardo didn’t seem to be having any trouble with it.

Ricardo must have understood that her grandfather was all washed up. When she left Chicago, she’d taken quite a lot of the family’s private assets with her, including their jewels. Thanks to Sham’s knowledge, she’d also known about jewels her grandfather had hidden outside the mansion in order to evade taxes, and she’d managed to take the whole bundle.

As a result, in spite of the recession, Ricardo was the mansion resident whose assets were the best fit for Millionaires’ Row.

She didn’t let it go to her head, though. She wasn’t frightened of the delinquents, either. Ricardo stoically helped out with the chores, discussing the casino party as she worked.

While the delinquents would ordinarily have been sponging money off her, no one had tried to mess with her. Jacuzzi and Nice hadn’t even had to intervene.

The reason was the man who was always with her, Christopher Shaldred. He was very difficult to approach.

Christopher didn’t seem to care and spent much of his time cackling and teasing Jacuzzi. Even now, as Jacuzzi rolled around hugging his stomach, he was watching with amusement.

“Well, well. What a natural thing, getting a stomachache from anxiety. It’s only been about a decade since they started doing research on chronic gastritis, you know. When do you think human stomachs first started to hurt as a sign of worry? They accrue unnecessary stress because they’re human, and they get stomachaches because they’re stressed.”

Going on and on, Christopher ambled up to Jacuzzi. Leaning in close with his red eyes and sharp teeth, he made a suggestion. “What do you say? If you stopped being human, I bet you’d feel better, and your stomach would stop hurting. Just let Nature take its course; let your instincts guide you! Now then, as a living and nonhuman creature, what’s the first thing you want to do?”

Christopher bared his fangs in a smile. Jacuzzi stared back, shaking like a leaf. “R…r-r…right now, I’d like to get out of here.”

“Keh-heh-heh… Do you suppose you’ll manage that?”

“Eep?!”

“It’s the law of the jungle in the natural world. The weak get weeded ou—ow-ow-ow?”

Once Jacuzzi’s teeth started chattering, Ricardo had sighed and pulled on Christopher’s hair. “…Excuse my subordinate.”

“Wow. I made my boss apologize. Sorry about that. My apologies.”

Christopher cackled away without a hint of contrition. Ricardo began to apologize to Jacuzzi’s group again, but—

—just then, the doorbell rang.

“Who could that be? D-don’t tell me it’s a Runorata Family hitman…,” Jacuzzi said, frightened by his own paranoid delusion. However, the voices he heard immediately afterward made his anxiety evaporate instantly.

“Heeey, Jacuzzi! You there? If you’re there, say something.”

“Yes, and if you’re not there, tell us you’re not!”

The voices were incredibly ingenuous, but they didn’t belong to children.

Nice went to the front door and opened it. The innocently smiling pair was just the one she’d expected.

“Hey! Nice, it’s been forever! How’ve you been? We’ve been doing pretty well, I think!”

“Yes, nothing’s more important than health!”

When Jacuzzi heard them, the tension in his face finally relaxed. “Isaac, Miria!” He rose, his legs shaking, and hobbled to the entryway, away from Christopher. “That’s great. We hadn’t seen you in a while; I was wondering what had happened.”

“Yeah, we were transporting cargo and doing all sorts of odd jobs. And then we got jumped by a bunch of weirdos! It was one heck of a time.”

“Yes, Who and Isaac got punched!”

“What?!” Jacuzzi cried out, startled.

The pair filled him in about the incident that had happened a few days earlier, as if they were reminiscing fondly about the past.

“I tell you, if Ladd hadn’t dropped in, there’s no telling what would have happened to us.”

“Huh? Ladd?” Jacuzzi was startled to hear that name from Isaac all of a sudden. And their story only got more confusing.

“What do you suppose those people were anyway? They tried to snatch us out of nowhere. They were using smoke, too; do you suppose they were those Eastern ‘ninja’ types?”

“What’ll we do if they were monsters, Isaac?!”

“Monsters?! L-like the Rail Tracer…?”

“Eeeeeeek, Isaac, I’m scaaared!”

In the overwhelming torrent of words, Jacuzzi picked up on one particular name and shrieked. “Th-the Rail Tracer?!”

As he shook, Nice thumped him on the shoulder. “Calm down, Jacuzzi. That’s not the part we should be concerned about.”

“Huh? Oh, r-right. It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s okay, Nice.”

Even as he got more and more confused, Jacuzzi thought, Transporting cargo? I wonder what they were carrying.

It was a job the Martillo Family had set them up with. Did that mean they’d been transporting something risky? Could that have been why they were attacked?

Jacuzzi didn’t know the “cargo” had simply been supplies for the lodging house, and his imagination kept expanding his fears. “Th-that’s not safe! You should quit that job…”

“Huh? You think so?”

“Yes, I do!”

He tried to seize the chance to shoo the pair out of harm’s way, but—

“Then a job your group found for us wouldn’t be dangerous, Jacuzzi?”

—Miria’s innocent question reminded him that he was the one in crisis.

“Aaaaaah, that’s right… I’m in trouble, too…” Jacuzzi clutched at his head, and Isaac and Miria continued to be no help at all.

“I don’t really get it, but don’t worry, Jacuzzi! Whenever those doubts creep in, you should start by stopping the worrying. They say if you shinto mekki, even fire’s cool!”

“Yes, you’ll be cool!”

“Um… What does that mean?” Jacuzzi asked.

Isaac told him, “Well, it’s a proverb from the Far East… In Japan, the word for gilding is mekki. Shinto is your mind and your body. And, uh, there was other stuff, too, right, Miria?”

“Yes, there’s Shinto the religion! And the shinto that means ‘permeation’! And the shinto that means ‘new sword’!”

Isaac and Miria rattled off all the meanings of the word shinto that they’d heard from Yaguruma and Ronny.

“I—I see…”

“That is to say—if you wrap yourself up in metal, then the gods permeate your heart, and you are born anew with a Japanese sword in your hand! I bet you’d be incredible! To you, fire would feel cool and ice would burn! You’d be a samurai!”

“It’s Far Eastern magic!”

Apparently, they believed that objects were gilded by being painted with molten metal. From their enthusiasm, Isaac and Miria seemed ready to start smelting then and there.

Nice, who was listening in from the sidelines, was starting to get worried. Meanwhile, Jacuzzi found their enthusiasm contagious. “R-really…? Do you think I’d be a new me?”

“What are you talking about?! You’re already a samurai, Jacuzzi!”

“Huh? …Oh!”

When he heard that, he remembered.

Several years ago, during the Flying Pussyfoot incident, he’d had a conversation along those lines with Isaac and Miria.

“But I don’t think I managed to get all that strong…”

“Jacuzzi, that’s not…” Nice tried to tell Jacuzzi that wasn’t true, but Isaac jumped in first.

“Samurai shouldn’t sweat the small stuff! You can just get stronger starting now!”

“Yes, it’s a growth spurt! ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’! Spring-Heeled Jack’s spring-heeled jump!”

“So we’ll mekki your shinto for you!”

“Isaac! That’s amazing!” Miria applauded, and Isaac nodded emphatically.

“Th-thank you so much,” Jacuzzi told them, as tears of joy beaded in his eyes.

Nice sighed, but she also smiled.

Still grinning, Isaac and Miria got the conversation back on track.

“So, Jacuzzi. What kind of danger are you in now, and why?”

“What sort of job are you doing?”

As Jacuzzi began to tell them about his situation, his face blanched again.

Christopher, who’d been watching the conversation from a little ways away, turned to Ricardo. “Those two are a riot, don’t you think?”

“I don’t base my opinions of people on how much they entertain me,” she answered coldly. Then, under her breath, she added, “It’s just…”

“They look like they’re having fun, and you’re jealous?”

“……” Ricardo said nothing; apparently, he’d hit the nail on the head.

“You know what you should do, Ricardo? You should make lots of friends. You can have nice, friendly chats with kids your age, fight about dumb little things, try to kill each other, all those childhood experiences.” As he said the last, unsavory item on the list, Christopher seemed to realize something and looked around restlessly. “Speaking of, where did Rail go?”

“She stepped out.” Ricardo told him, sounding uninterested. “She’s been doing a little investigating ever since she saw the papers a few days back.”

Somewhere in Little ItalyFiro’s apartment

Firo lived in an old stone apartment building with Ennis and Czes.

Right now, though, his place really wasn’t inhabitable.

It had been attacked a few days ago. The apartment had suddenly exploded, and Ennis had been snatched by Melvi’s underlings. The door and furnishings had been blasted apart, and there were traces of small fires here and there. Even the sturdy kitchen table had been blown to splinters. It was a miracle the stone outer walls hadn’t been destroyed.

Someone was standing amid the wreckage, surveying the horrendous damage, but it wasn’t Firo.

It was Czeslaw Meyer, who’d actually been caught in the explosion.

The police had come to investigate, but Victor seemed to have pulled some strings, because they hadn’t questioned Czes and Firo about the situation in detail.

Czes was currently staying in Maiza’s apartment; however, he’d taken advantage of odd moments to come back here several times.

Naturally, he stayed on guard in case of a second attack—but he hadn’t heard that anyone connected to the Martillos had been accosted since the day Ennis had been taken.

The fact that the Martillo executive Ronny Schiatto had dropped completely out of sight was concerning, but he was probably working on the problem covertly somewhere else. Czes didn’t know that Ronny had disappeared, so he wasn’t particularly concerned.

Taking in the ruined apartment from the empty doorway, he contemplated the situation.

During his visits here, he’d encountered the residents of the other apartments a few times, but none of them had really asked him anything.

It was likely that the landlord and the residents of this building were all under the Martillo Family’s control.

He didn’t know whether the Martillos had always anticipated that something like this might happen and had issued instructions in advance, or whether they’d paid out enough money after the incident to silence any complaints, or whether the residents simply felt obligated to them.

However, the deafening silence hurt Czes more than the alternative.

Dammit, what have I done? I’m really indebted to Firo and Ennis now.

As a matter of fact, although both Firo and Ennis worried about Czes, they weren’t the sort of people who’d take him to task. Czes knew this, but it only worsened the feeling that he was leaning on their kindness, and he hated himself for it.

All those thoughts had put him in a bad mood.

Before coming to this city, he wouldn’t have cared about something so minor. He’d made his childish appearance work for him, taken advantage of the kindness of others, and used them.

The Flying Pussyfoot incident had brought about a dramatic change in him.

That said, it wasn’t a change that Czes himself had clearly processed.

He’d stepped inside and was looking around at the broken furniture. After half a minute or so, he heard a young, innocent voice from the entrance. “Hellooooo… Oh.”

“?”

When Czes turned around, a kid was standing there. A familiar-looking kid. “You visited Firo’s casino with Ronny the other day, didn’t you?” Czes asked.

“Huh? Have we met?”

“No… I just saw you from a distance.”

Czes had only caught a glimpse of Ronny’s group when he’d spotted Ennis tailing them, but the distinctive scars on this kid’s face had left a deep impression on him.

The child looked like a boy at first glance, but that didn’t feel quite right to Czes, so he decided to just ask. “Say, are you a boy or a girl?”

“Does it matter? Oh, I’m Rail, by the way. Nice to meet you or whatever.” Playing dumb, the kid walked right into Firo’s apartment. “Rail” looked to be about the same age as Czes. “So do you live here? Or are you a nosy neighbor?”

“…I’m basically Firo’s kid brother.”

“I see. Too bad about your place. I’m just a rubbernecker.” Rail gave him a smile without much genuine sympathy, then seemed to notice something. “Hang on… If you live with Firo and Ennis, does that make you Czeslaw Meyer?”

Hearing his own name put Czes on high alert. Keeping up his “innocent little boy” act, he carefully sussed out the visitor. “Huh? H-how come you know my name?”

The bluff was a waste of time, though.

“Ha-ha! You don’t have to fake like you’re a kid. You’re actually a couple centuries old, right? You’re basically an old man.”

“……”

They were sure about that. So they’re involved with the immortals?

In that case, there was no need to pretend. Czes heaved a deep sigh, then narrowed his eyes. “And? Who sent you to me? One of Szilard’s surviving followers?”

“Oh, I’m just me. I’m not affiliated with anybody anymore. If I had to say, I’m with Chris… Er, Christopher.”

“Christopher… Oh, the one who’s going to be helping Firo on that job…”

“Yep. So you Martillos can think of me as an ally, if you want.”

Rail never had said where they were from, so Czes kept his guard firmly in place. “Who told you about me?”

“…Aw, that doesn’t matter. Oh, don’t worry. I’m not immortal, and there’s no way I could eat you.”

“You expect me to just believe you?”

“Look, it’s true. Just don’t kill me to test it out, all right? You’ll get the fuzz after ya.” Rail snickered, then fluttered a hand at Czes, who still looked dubious. “Seriously, relax. I just saw in the papers that there’d been an explosion, and I got curious about what kind of bomb they’d used.” Rail took a good look around the room, humming. “So the walls are still standing, and only the furniture got blown up. One of my bombs might have taken this whole place out.”

“…Your bombs?” Czes frowned. That was an alarming phrase.

Rail took a small egg-shaped object out of a jacket pocket and rolled it between their fingers. “Yeah,” they said cheerfully. “Wanna see what it does to you?”

“A bomb…? That thing?”

“Um, yes? Let’s see… Here, this is what’s in it.”

Rail took something else out of their pocket. It was a tiny bottle about as big as the tip of their little finger, and it was filled with a pale-pink powder. “No smoking around this stuff. If I lit it now, it’d bring the entire building down.” Rail waggled the little bottle back and forth with their fingertips—then paused and cocked their head.

A sharp change had come over Czes’s face.

“That’s…gunpowder?”

“? Yes?”

“Did you make it yourself?” Czes spoke in the tones of an adult, his expression hard.

A little intimidated, Rail answered seriously. “No. Unfortunately, I didn’t make the stuff. I bought it in Hollywood, but I hear somebody originally stole it off a train, while it was being shipped.” Nice had explained the situation, but Rail didn’t mention any names—perhaps due to some sort of indebtedness or loyalty to Jacuzzi’s group. “It’s in a whole different league from the regular explosives on the market. I dunno what it’s called, though.” They shrugged.

Czes lowered his eyes. “…Ice Pop.”

“Huh?”

“Strawberry Ice Pop. That’s what it’s called.”

Patented in 1924, ice pops were frozen treats on a stick, which Japan would later know and love as “ice candy.”

Rail finally frowned. “What…are you talking about?”

“How much do you know about me?”

“Well, um… You’re an immortal who looks like a kid. You’re a member of the group from the Advena Avis, and you live with another immortal named Firo and a homunculus named Ennis…and that’s about it.”

“I see. Only the superficial details, then.” Czes heaved a deep sigh. Tilting his head back, he gazed at the ceiling. “I was just a child during the voyage on the Advena Avis, but I’m also an alchemist who’s lived more than two centuries. I’m nowhere near the level of my father or Begg, but I’ve still picked up a few tricks.”

“……”

“That stuff doesn’t just explode. It emits a unique flash of light as well, doesn’t it?”

“How do you know that?” Rail had half guessed already, but they asked to make sure.

Czes gave a self-deprecating smile. “My specialty is explosives, you see.”

Gazing at the pale-pink powder in Rail’s hand, the immortal who looked like a child spoke as if reminiscing about how young he’d been, just a handful of years earlier.

“I’m the one who made that stuff.”

The next dayFred’s clinic

In front of the clinic Fred ran…

Components from the truck Graham had dismantled were still lying around by the gate, where Fred’s assistant Who was talking with another man.

“It’s a shame you’re quitting today.”

The second man—Lebreau—was carrying a big bag with his spare clothes and other possessions in it. He shook his head. “I’m sorry to leave you shorthanded on almost no notice.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your old man’s sick, right? Hurry on back to him.”

Lebreau had gotten word that his father down in Florida had collapsed, and he had to head back to take over the family business. As a result, he was leaving the clinic quite abruptly.

Who hadn’t known this guy very long, but the way he was quitting out of nowhere was a bit sad. He didn’t let it show, though, and saw Lebreau off with a smile. “Well, we did just get attacked by those nutcases. I couldn’t tell you what they were after, but it might be good to steer clear of this place for a while anyway.”

“Will you be all right, Who?”

“Not like I have anywhere else to go. Besides, that stuff used to happen around me all the time, back in the day when I was running around with Ladd.” Who shook his head glumly at the memory.

“Ladd…? Oh, he’s the fellow who saved us the other day, isn’t he? I would have liked to thank him properly.”

“Nah, I’ll tell him for you. It’s better not to get involved with that guy if you can help it.” Who glanced away, then changed the subject. “Don’t worry about the job, by the way. Dr. Fred’s back now, and those two new hires are hard workers.”

“But I’m told they’ll be taking three days off as well, starting tomorrow.”

“Yeah… They said they have to help a friend out with his job or something. Well, the lodging house has enough supplies to tide it over until they’re back, so it’s no problem.”

After finishing up the conversation, Lebreau said a polite farewell, then left the clinic behind him.

“……”

At first, he walked in silence. Once he’d turned the corner, he couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing.

“Ha-ha! …‘My father has collapsed’?”

I’m impressed I managed to deliver that shameless bullshit with a straight face.

How had he appeared as he played the part of the devoted son? As he imagined it, Lebreau couldn’t stop grinning.

Should I take over my father’s business? Bringing witch hunts back into fashion would be entertaining in its own way, but I’ll save that for another time.

Still, that pair, Isaac and Miria…

If they’re taking three days off starting tomorrow, could they be attending “the event”?

Either way, this is bound to be interesting.

As the man chuckled, his eyes narrowed in a smile behind his heavy bangs, and he let his thoughts go to the future “current.”

I tell you, this is better than I’d imagined.

This is what makes life fun. It’s incredible.

I’m so glad I became an immortal.

I’ve managed to get Czes, Huey, and Maiza onto the stage quite neatly, too. Not only that, but that lunatic smile junkie’s not here. It’s all so perfect!

Looking up at the night sky, Lebreau gave thanks to fate.

He didn’t believe in God, but he wasn’t an atheist, either.

If a god exists, that’s fine. If it doesn’t, that’s fine, too. Whether things I can’t see exist or not, it’s all the same to me. That was his opinion on the matter, at least for now.

I like it. The Dormentaires, the Runoratas, Huey, and the Martillo Family are all tangled together nicely.

The ones I’ll need to be wary of are Victor and Beriam. After all, they could upend the whole thing.

Although I imagine I’d see something entertaining in that case as well.

Now then, maybe I’ll goad Upham a bit, too.

All sorts of thoughts ran through Lebreau’s mind.

He wasn’t running calculations and trying to control all the currents; he’d simply sown “seeds” in various places.

There was no telling how they would affect the three-day casino party at Ra’s Lance, starting the next day. He didn’t know whether they’d sprout at all.

He just wanted to see it—people being toyed with by fate.

He wanted to see innocent boys and girls and his favorite “players” in the many moments of life—laughing, crying, raging, despairing, and even the brief moment they believed in hope.

There was nothing else inside him.

Lebreau Fermet Viralesque.

He did technically have objectives and wishes, but he didn’t have a shred of ambition. That was the one big difference between him and Huey Laforet.

Both men had dramatic plans that dragged in all sorts of people, and they would accept the results of those plans no matter what. But despite those superficial similarities, their natures were fundamentally different.

For the sake of his objective, Huey wanted to know everything.

For the sake of pleasure, Lebreau wanted to watch everything.

Huey had a great will, while Lebreau drowned in formless hedonism.

To Huey, people were no more than test subjects. To Lebreau, they were his lovable players.

And while Huey had no malice for those in his experiments, Lebreau held great malice for those in his plays.

Granted, for the people who got dragged into all this, each was as much of a nuisance as the other.

What was going to happen in New York City, which had caught the eye of these troublesome forces?

Not even the two at the heart of it all could predict what lay ahead.

And so the first die was cast.