Baccano! - Volume 16 - Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Ice Pick Thompson’s face looms out of the darkness

New York Little Italy

“…Rain, huh?” Carl muttered, looking up at the sky.

As he was heading back toward the Daily Days office in Chinatown, he’d begun to feel cold drops on his skin.

“Well, damn. I guess I should’ve gone home first today.” Grumbling to himself, Carl walked briskly in the direction of the newspaper.

“Pete’s sake, rain again…”

The residual heat had made for a warm summer night. The rain brought coolness, but at the same time, it inflicted an indescribably oppressive feeling. And when a murderer was active in New York only on rainy days, that oppressiveness was particularly intense.

As he walked through town, though, Carl didn’t appear all that bothered by it.

Lester… He really does know something.

Remembering the man he’d met a little earlier just before going to the Gandors’ office, Carl looked up at the dark sky. Despite the raindrops striking his face, he glared at the starless expanse.

It’s probably safe to assume the real criminal has ties to that incident.

At first, I thought it might be Lester himself, but…

“He really was spooked. Afraid of a killer who’s after his life,” he muttered to himself—then suddenly realized something.

So I am being tailed.

He’d noticed someone following him a little while ago—but even though it had started to rain, the figure showed no sign of moving faster.

Ice Pick Thompson… Nah, couldn’t be. I can’t get careless, though.

It could be Lester, come to bump him off for knowing his secret.

On that thought, in the middle of a deserted street—Carl quietly turned around.

“Care to speak face-to-face?”

His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. He’d had several near brushes with death in his work as a journalist, and he’d been tailed like this more than a few times before.

He’d developed the ability to tell at a glance how dangerous most people were. He was aware that that was the very reason why he’d been able to talk with Graham so boldly.

If he’d been dealing with Ladd Russo—Carl probably wouldn’t even have shown up at the meeting spot. It was doubtful whether he’d have done the interview in the first place.

But the current situation was difficult to judge.

After making sure there were several open speakeasies nearby where he could hide if necessary, he’d chosen to hail his opponent from this position, at this distance.

There was no telling what terror might present itself.

Tensing slightly, he watched to see what the figure that had been tailing him would do—

—when the person who emerged from the shadows on the street was only a boy.

“…?” Carl frowned.

When there were about fifteen feet between them, the boy stopped.

Is he just a thief? No, this doesn’t feel right for that.

As Carl watched suspiciously, the boy took a slow step toward him.

“Mister? Are you…an information broker?”

“…I don’t know who told you that, but… Well, I suppose I am.”

“I’d like to buy some information from you.”

“What?” As Carl grew more suspicious, the boy quietly went on.

“Please tell me…about the people who don’t die…

“And—where I can find a man named Szilard Quates.”

Meanwhile

“Let me tell you a fun, fun story. It’s started raining.”

“What’s so fun about that?” Shaft muttered, annoyed by the pelting raindrops.

Graham seemed rather appalled.

“Hey, it is fun! Ahhh, it really is! Just when I was thinking it was so very, very hot, the blessed rain falls! If the rain gets us wet, it’s enough to bring our temperatures down! When you think of it that way, maybe the rain’s a protective barrier the sky has given us to shield us from the sun! How do I respond to that, Shaft?! Earth loves us!”

“Uh, it’s night, so the sun’s got nothing to do with anything.”

“Ridiculous… We wouldn’t even have these nighttime temperatures without the heat of the sun during the day, all right? The whole atmosphere stored it all up, just for you. You should be grateful.”

“Aaaaaaah, this is why I hate idiots who know their stuff…”

While Shaft was at his wit’s end, Elmer beamed as he walked beside Graham.

“You’re right. The atmosphere is amazing, isn’t it? Earth is so incredible. I think we’re lucky just to be living on it. If we could share the rain with people in desert regions so they could have more food, would more people be happy just to be living here on Earth…? Well, right now, all of you are experiencing this planet firsthand, so go ahead and smile.”

In a way, what Elmer said wasn’t exactly fair, but Graham seemed convinced.

“I see… Yeah, we’re lucky we can breathe, all right. Hey, everybody, smile!”

“This is completely hopeless. They’re like two gears that mesh perfectly with each other and no one else…!”

Without letting Shaft’s lament bother him, Graham turned to Elmer.

“By the way, I don’t mind helping you look for this Mark kid, but what do you want him for?”

Having found a kindred spirit in Elmer, Graham had started his grandstanding. “If we ask the delinquents around town, we’ll find that kid, easy!” he’d said.

And now here they were, helping hunt for him at night.

“Sure he isn’t already home and in bed?” one of Graham’s friends asked.

But Elmer’s reply was a little odd. “If we can, I’d like to search for him now… It looks like rain.” He even said he’d try looking by himself if necessary.

The upshot was that they’d split up and were now searching the town.

This particular team consisted of Elmer, Graham, and Shaft. As the only member who had any common sense, Shaft had been forced to listen to their ridiculous conversation for the past little while, and he had made his annoyance known multiple times.

But finally, they had gotten to the key point—“Why are you looking for that boy?”—and Shaft perked up, hoping the conversation was going somewhere at last, but…the answer that came back was a strange one.

“Right… The thing is, I want to know whether he can be happy.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” Graham set his wrench against his cheek, cocking his head.

“Well, let’s see. I’m guessing at some of what I’m about to say, so take it with a grain of salt and don’t tell anybody else, all right?”

Speaking calmly, Elmer gave his answer.

“You say you want to buy information…?” Frowning, Carl gazed at the boy in front of him. “I don’t know how you know Szilard’s name, but… Sorry, but I’m in business, too. I can’t release information without getting more information or a fee in return.”

“I have information.”

In the rain, the boy’s face looked rather mature.

In it, Carl sensed an odd sort of pressure.

What’s going on?

A thrill ran through him, warning of danger. The only reason he didn’t cut and run right then was because he didn’t sense that the boy intended to kill him.

“Who…are you…?” Carl asked dubiously.

Quietly, the boy murmured, “This is what I can give you—”

The next thing he knew, there was something in the boy’s right hand.

It was so thin and sharp it was almost invisible in the rain, except for its dull silver gleam.

As Carl realized it was a rusty ice pick, the boy gave a calm but heavy reply.

“The identity of Ice Pick Thompson… Will that be enough?”

“There’s something I want to know,” Elmer told Graham and Shaft.

It was an answer neither of them had seen coming at all.

“I want to know whether a suicidal serial killer can end up happy.”

Meanwhile

Even after Lester had gone, Smith stayed in the building, taking shelter from the rain. Looking at the note he’d been handed, he sounded rather troubled as he muttered to himself.

“…Well, this has gotten ugly. To think my comeback job would be a kid.”

The note held the physical description and address of a boy named Mark. Crumpling it in his fist, he considered his options for a little while.

Before long, he shook his head in resignation, then grinned.

“I knew it. Nobody on this side of society is sane.”

Chuckling, the man began checking the bullets in the guns in his coat, one by one.

“In that case—I’ll just have to let my own lunacy guide me.”

The rain was still falling over the dark city, drowning out the scraping of the guns against one another in its own quiet sibilance.

Szt, szt—

Sst, sst…