Baccano! - Volume 21 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17 The Nobles’ Prosperity Is Unending

It was true that the House of Dormentaire had declined over the years—but only in comparison to its heyday.

The Dormentaires were a powerful family of European nobles who had reached the height of their prosperity around the year 1700. They’d held great power in Spain and the Italian peninsula, and while they hadn’t rivaled the Medicis, the family had boasted quite enough glory.

Even now that the aristocracy had gone out of style, they had skillfully navigated the waves of industry, avoiding the loss of their power by shifting their finances in new directions.

They never let their desire to control the world show, though. Quietly yet steadily, they extended their reach into the global economy.

It was as if they were trying to entangle everything and draw it to themselves.

And now—

—a man whose family name was “Dormentaire” was attempting to extend a long, strong arm of power in the United States.

It certainly wasn’t for the sake of the House of Dormentaire. It was simply for revenge and his own modest desires.

Somewhere on the East Coast

In a building near the port, one of the Division of Investigation’s strongholds…

…a room was filling up with a certain man’s frustration.

“Shit! Fuck! God fucking dammit! What the hell is going on here?!” Victor Talbot roared, temples twitching. “What the hell are the Dormentaires doing here?!”

As he yelled, he was remembering what he’d seen earlier that day.

During his pursuit of the squadron of seaplanes that had attacked Manhattan, Victor had spotted the crest of the House of Dormentaire on a ship that had been brought to his attention as “suspicious.”

Before Victor gained immortality, the House of Dormentaire had employed him as their proprietary alchemist.

In 1711, a certain commotion had set him on his course toward the liquor of immortality. The uproar had enveloped the entire provincial city of Lotto Valentino, and behind the scenes, the House of Dormentaire had been deeply involved.

In a way, it was no exaggeration to say that the House of Dormentaire was one of the headwaters for the chain of incidents involving the immortals.

Now a ship owned by that family had turned up in New York, still bearing their hourglass crest.

This had come completely out of left field for Victor, and the fact was momentous enough that it threatened to overturn all the conjectures he’d made so far.

“If our luck goes south, we may have to throw all our theories out the window… If they’re involved, this shit’s international.”

As Victor’s angry yelling turned into groaning, a different man spoke up. “Uhhh… We’re not positive they are involved, though.”

The speaker was Victor’s man Bill Sullivan. Despite what he’d said, he was fairly sure the Dormentaires were part of this, but they’d never get anywhere unless Victor calmed down. His intent had been to reassure, hollow as that consolation was, but—

“This is not a coincidence; that’s for damn sure! If they seriously have nothing to do with it, then we’re really headed to hell in a fucking handbasket!”

“Mm… What do you mean, sir?”

“Look, when they break out the hourglass, they’re gonna do something huge! And it’s never good!” Victor raked his fingers through his hair. “If they’ve got nothing to do with the immortals, the shit we’re in is twice as deep! Our department won’t be able to field it all! Dammit… I’d heard they’d come down in the world. Why would they show up now, after all this time? It’s like they’re mocking me!”

At that point, Victor’s expression suddenly turned serious, and he muttered to himself in a voice that was more subdued. “…They actually might be mocking me. The Dormentaires would do it.”

“Ah… You sound like you have somebody specific in mind.”

“A man’s past is his business, all right?” He scowled at Bill.

Meanwhile, the door opened as Victor’s other subordinate, Donald Brown, arrived.

“Assistant Director, a name with a link to our department has turned up. We’ve found a man with the last name Dormentaire.”

“I knew it! What outfit is he with?!”

“The Runorata Family. He may also have ties to Huey’s organization.”

“Wha…?” The report left Victor speechless.

He’d guessed Huey’s organization, due to his previous connections, or the remnants of Szilard’s faction. Possibly even Maiza, since he’d been deeply involved with the Dormentaires in Lotto Valentino.

Frankly, he’d hoped it would be one of the three.

But the answer had turned out to be the worst possible one: Now even the Runorata Family was involved.

Whatever their lineage, the Runorata Family had currently put down roots in America. He’d gone back through Bartolo’s family tree, but he hadn’t found any trace of a connection to the Dormentaires or Lotto Valentino.

An enormous, independent syndicate in the American underworld and an influential (if less so now) family of European nobles—to Victor, the combination was nothing short of a nightmare. Even if he left the immortals out of the picture, one of the nation’s leading mafia families had a pipeline to Europe through the House of Dormentaire. Obviously, nothing good would come of this, and Victor imagined the worst. “Hey… Don’t tell me they’ve made contact with other mafia outfits, too. Hell, if they’re talking to Cosa Nostra…”

Cosa Nostra.

An enormous organization whose name meant “this thing of ours” in Italian, it was a group that existed in both Italy and America, through different lines.

While the gangster Al Capone had been famous throughout the U.S., Cosa Nostra, which had formed around Lucky Luciano, kept its existence very low-key. In the shadows, never standing out, they’d used various tricks to build a solid organization.

As a result, the Division of Investigation hadn’t really been effective against them. If they were involved as well, Victor’s department wouldn’t have the manpower to deal with them.

However, Donald shook his head at the idea that the enormous syndicate was part of the picture. “We’re still checking into it, but right now, the Runorata Family is the only place we’ve spotted the Dormentaire name.”

“Why didn’t we pick up on him before now?! What’s his link to them?!” Victor’s tone grew rough again, which meant the news came as a relief.

“He seems to have made contact with them only recently. Even within the organization, practically no one knows about him,” Donald said, holding out the case file.

Victor scanned it, and his eyes narrowed. “Melvi Dormentaire… The guy’s a dealer?”

“Yes. He’s a recent hire, and he’ll be acting as the Runorata Family’s main dealer at that casino party.”

“I figured Carlotta would be holding down that post.”

“Uh… She deals at the underground casino on the Runoratas’ home turf, right?”

“That’s the one. When I went in undercover this one time, she saw right through me and had me bounced. The dame is sharp.” Victor had spoken with a straight face, and Bill and Donald exchanged looks.

Then they corrected him, rather apologetically.

“Uh… It may have been less that she was sharp and more that undercover work is far from your forte, sir.”

“…We got quite a few complaints from other departments, too. Said it wasn’t our jurisdiction…”

“Shut the hell up! If we get a wire that the Runorata Family and Huey’s outfit are meeting at a casino, that’s absolutely our jurisdiction! …The tip-off was false, as it turned out, but I guess this one’s the real deal.” Grinding his teeth over his subordinates’ comments, Victor smacked the documents onto a nearby desk. “Anyway! Get all the dirt there is on this Melvi Dormentaire goon. I want everything from memories of his first love to how firm his pillow is!”

After his men had gotten their orders and left the room, Victor took another look at the report. “Melvi Dormentaire, huh…? Wonder if he’s directly descended.” Remembering one particular Dormentaire, his erstwhile lover, he hastily shook his head. “Dammit! I can’t bring personal stuff into this. I know that.”

He smacked his cheeks, then muttered to himself, “Still… The casino party at Ra’s Lance…”

They’d gotten intel on that party a little while earlier.

Ordinarily, he’d have sent in a squad of cops and rounded up all the big-time gangsters at a stroke, but certain circumstances prevented him from doing so.

This was a chance to learn about links to the immortals. As a member of the Division of Investigation, he would have liked to gather intel at that party—but even before that, he was under pressure from multiple angles to let the Runoratas walk.

Even in the recession, quite a few wealthy people had managed to hang on to their power, and many of them would be attending the event. Several had probably made sure the politicians’ and cops’ hands were tied.

The pressure irked Victor, but he’d decided to prioritize the DOI’s work for now and accept the limitations. However—

“If the Dormentaires are involved, that’s a whole ’nother story.”

Something was going to happen at the Ra’s Lance casino, and it would involve the immortals.

Victor accepted this not as conjecture but as solid fact.

There were no coincidences with the Dormentaires. They had to have sent that dealer to the Runorata Family for a reason.

“Who gives a shit about tied hands? I don’t care about Huey, the mafia, the Camorra, or the House of Dormentaire.

“I’ll show ’em what it means to disturb the peace.”

Somewhere in New YorkBelow a warehouse

Up until a few years ago, this place had been highly significant.

It had been created in the basement of a certain warehouse in the suburbs of New York as a storage space for bootleg liquor.

Half of the storehouse had been used as a speakeasy during the last part of Prohibition, and there were three little tables in it. The place was horribly bleak for a bar, and the ceiling was so low that tall customers might have scraped their heads on it.

The only things in this basement were a bare-bones sales counter and a few naked lightbulbs. Now that the Prohibition Act had been abolished, there were empty barrels stacked against the wall, and the corners of the ceiling were strung with old cobwebs.

The company that owned the storehouse had gone under during the recession. The dusty cellar should have been forgotten until the economy revived, but…at present, there was a faint light in this dilapidated basement.

Under the flickering lightbulb sat a young woman in a black suit.

It was Firo Prochainezo’s roommate Ennis, a homunculus created by Szilard Quates.

Her hands were cuffed behind the back of her chair. Barbed wire had been wrapped around her legs, over her black slacks, so that she couldn’t even struggle properly. The barbs bit into her flesh through the fabric, but there was no blood on the floor around her, thanks to her immortality. Although she was physically unharmed, her clothes were badly scorched and torn in multiple places.

Fully conscious, she glared up at the young man standing in front of her. Her eyes were wary more than hateful or contemptuous.

He gave her a scornful smile. “Please don’t glare like that. You might scare someone.”

He and Ennis were alone in the basement. Until the young man’s arrival, several brawny men had been keeping an eye on the prisoner. However, when he’d come in a minute ago, he’d sent them away. They were currently on standby in the warehouse upstairs.

There was only one door anyway, so Ennis guessed that the young man had dismissed the others because he couldn’t afford to have anyone overhear what he planned to say.

“…Who are you?” she asked.

This wasn’t their first meeting. In terms of being in the same place at the same time, they’d crossed paths once before, at Firo’s casino, but this was the first time they’d spoken.

“I believe I introduced myself at Prochainezo’s casino. My name is Melvi, and I’m a dealer employed by the Runorata Family.” Melvi shrugged.

“Assuming that’s true, it doesn’t explain why you’d kidnap me,” Ennis told him.

“Really? I think it does that rather well, actually. For example, maybe the Runoratas have taken the family of a Martillo executive hostage so they can crush a potential rival.”

“As I recall, the Runorata Family is enormous. I don’t see why they’d have to do something so indirect.”

In any case, Ennis didn’t buy the idea that her kidnapping had been simple mafia warfare.

After all, during the initial attack on Firo’s apartment, the thugs had started with the explosives. If they’d been planning to kill her, that would have made sense. But if they’d meant to kidnap her, the attackers had to have known she was immortal.

That had immediately led her to suspect that an immortal was involved, but—

Melvi immediately confirmed her suspicions. “You ‘recall,’ hmm? Are those really your memories? Or did Szilard Quates give them to you?”

“……!”

“Or I suppose they could have belonged to someone you ate.”

“I knew it… You’re—!”

Melvi’s tone had grown a bit lighter; Ennis tried to question him further, but he cut her off. “Do you recognize my face?”

There was no politeness in his words now.

Ennis took another look at the man. She did feel as if she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t remember exactly where. Had he been in a movie or something? Or was he a regular at the Martillos’ restaurant?

Seeing that she’d begun to puzzle it over in earnest, Melvi clicked his tongue as if she bored him. “Tch! Apparently, the alchemist you ate didn’t pay much attention to people.”

“What do you mean?”

She’d eaten an alchemist.

That memory roused the guilt that tormented her conscience. She could never escape it. She didn’t even intend to ask for forgiveness, but no one had ever punished her.

Back when she was just an emotionless tool, she’d committed the crime on Szilard’s orders.

Firo and the others in her life kept telling her she wasn’t to blame.

But now that Ennis had gained emotions and knowledge, the deed carried far too much weight for her to forget it. She never wanted to say much about her past, and Firo avoided bringing it up—

—but this man had waded right in.

“Oh, it’s quite simple. If you ate one of the alchemists who was on that ship, my face should have been part of the knowledge you gained. It’s possible that particular detail was too minor for him to remember, though. We were only together for a few months.”

“A few months…?”

“Plus, I don’t know whether my face is really identical to the one the alchemists saw.”

Melvi gave a self-deprecating smile, confusing Ennis even further. What is he trying to say?

Several hundred years ago…

Is he one of the alchemists from the Advena Avis?

Something doesn’t seem right, though.

As Ennis frowned, Melvi went on. “Well, even if you remembered whose face it was, you’re a homunculus who was born only recently, so it’s nothing to do with you.”

“Who are you…? What is your connection to Szilard?”

Melvi replied bluntly, with no hesitation. “I am Szilard Quates.”

“…?”

It was an extremely strange answer, and Ennis’s mouth hung open.

“Well, to be accurate, I was supposed to become Szilard Quates.”

“What…do you mean?”

“My full name is Melvi Dormentaire. Does the last name ring any bells?”

“The House of Dormentaire…!” Ennis gulped.

That name definitely was in the knowledge she possessed. Szilard had told her about the family a few times as well.

“They are no more than a foothold, there to be used. You must never be careless with them, though.”

“Once this country is under my control, I’ll take as much from them as I like.”

Szilard had planned to gain control of the United States.

It was sheer megalomania, but at the time, the words had sounded real to Ennis.

After all, Szilard had had the power to make them real.

If he’d succeeded in mass-producing the genuine liquor of immortality, he would have realized that ambition.

That was what Ennis believed, at least, and she was very glad it hadn’t happened.

Even to a homunculus like her, Szilard had seemed extremely dangerous.

However, this man had brought up his name, then claimed he was supposed to become him.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Ennis shook her head.

Melvi set a hand on her jaw and leaned in until his face was inches from hers. “Listen, homunculus. Do you think the alchemist you ate is alive inside you?”

“……! What—?”

“It’s an important question. You inherited all his memories and knowledge. What he felt, and when; who he loved; who humiliated him. You stole all of it.” Melvi was trying to keep his voice level, but emotion crept in around the edges of his words; he couldn’t completely hide his excitement. “Well? Are you still the person you were before you ate him? Can you look me in the eye and say your personality—your ‘soul,’ so to speak—is the same?”

“……”

“…Oh, right, I’m sorry. You’ve been trying not to think about it all this time, so there’s no way you have a ready answer.” The pressure in Melvi’s words eased, and he gave an unpleasant smile. “Take your time mulling it over. You’ll have several days.”

“……”

“Conversations are games of catch, you know. Answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.” He took a few steps toward the stairs. Then he stopped and spoke in a voice that held no emotion. “I was born as Szilard’s ‘spare.’”

“His spare…?”

“Yes. Or you could call it a new vessel.”

Ennis still didn’t understand what he was saying. She started to ask another question—but Melvi turned around, and when she saw his eyes, she swallowed the words back down.

Those eyes held none of the flippancy or exultation that had been there a moment earlier. They were terribly dark and stagnant, as if he was holding a grudge against the entire world. In truth, his hatred was focused on just one man.

“Firo Prochainezo. He stole my future. He killed me.”

“What are you saying?! Firo hasn’t done a thing to—”

“He ate Szilard. That’s all that matters. I just assumed Maiza had done it; I never dreamed it would be him.”

“How do you know it was…?”

Melvi responded impassively. “There’s the fact that he’s awfully solicitous toward you…but there are all sorts of other reasons.” Letting the emotion return to his voice, he smiled thinly. “Do you have any idea how many years I spent checking into your group?”

“What?”

“Your hangout, Alveare; the Martillo Family’s restaurant. How many of my companions do you think visited that place on the sly as customers? How many times?”

“No…!” Ennis hadn’t been expecting a shock from that direction, and she paled visibly. She felt as if the color was suddenly bleeding from her memories of a place where she’d spent so much of her time.

As he watched her, Melvi’s lips curved in a satisfied smile. “Our reach is much longer than you imagine. Let me just say that if you think we’re on the level of the Runorata Family, you’re underestimating us.” Melvi started toward the stairs again. As he went, he tossed a cheerful threat her way. “You’re immortal as well. That means I can hurt you as much as I want. I’m not doing it because I still have it in me to be a gentleman. For now.”

“Please wait. I’m not done—”

“I told you: Conversations are games of catch. Give and take. If you want to ask me something, think very carefully and come up with an answer that will allow me to keep treating you well.” Then, as if he’d remembered, he added, “Oh, that’s right. I’ll be moving you somewhere else tomorrow. Somewhere better than this. You’ll have the freedom to use the bathroom and shower by yourself.”

“…?” Ennis was dubious. Even if all he did was loosen the bonds on her hands and feet, she’d have countless opportunities to run. Melvi didn’t seem the type to be careless with his captives.

As if he’d sensed her doubts, Melvi went on. “If you run, I’ll kill the one I nabbed along with you. Whether he’s immortal or not.”

“—!” Ennis thought of Czes, who’d been with her in the apartment.

She had no idea what had happened to him, and a nasty sweat broke out on her back. “Czes has nothing to do with this! Please let him go!”

“Are you thick? I’m telling you that I’ll kill him if you run. I’m well aware that he has nothing to do with this.” He was unrelenting as he laid out the situation. “If you think Czeslaw Meyer won’t die because he’s immortal, think again. Remember what I said? I’ll kill him either way.”

“What…do you mean?”

“That I have a way to kill immortals as well. You’re quite familiar with the method yourself, aren’t you?”

He smirked, and Ennis froze completely.

She felt her throat begin to burn.

If she believed what he was saying, either he was a true immortal or another member of his group was. But she couldn’t decide how much to believe.

As a matter of fact, Czeslaw Meyer hadn’t been taken prisoner.

She couldn’t deny the possibility, though, and it bound her far more tightly than cuffs or chains ever could. Right now, she didn’t have the freedom to learn the facts.

She’d realized something else, too.

Whether he was lying or telling the truth—this Melvi could kill someone in cold blood.

In that way, he really was just like Szilard.

That was the one thing Ennis understood as she watched him climb the stairs, laughing.

Nearly crushed by her anxiety that he might harm Firo, Czes, or somebody else and by her frustration at being helpless…

…Ennis could do nothing but watch Melvi’s receding back.