Baccano! - Volume 22 - Chapter 29.2

Linking Chapter—B-side There’s No Tomorrow for Us

One day laterA water storage facility somewhere in New York

Manhattan got its water from the abundant snowmelt that flows down from the mountains in upstate New York.

Massive amounts of water traveled from the New Croton Dam and the Catskill Mountains, down aqueducts dozens of miles long, and into reservoirs in Manhattan.

The waterworks had formerly been managed by a large corporation, but the city had purchased them in 1932. Now under the direct control of the municipal government, they supplied the water used in daily life in Manhattan and its surroundings.

In one such water supply facility…

In a facility that held the water that would run from most of Manhattan’s taps stood two figures who weren’t employees.

“You’re really going to do this?” Salomé Carpenter asked.

He’d spoken to a man with bandages over one eye: Huey Laforet.

“Yes. It is my objective, after all. Both the Division of Investigation and the eyes of the mafia will be riveted on Ra’s Lance by now… I imagine Firo and Melvi are in the middle of their big match.”

“I hear there was some sort of trouble yesterday, and an additional guest has been invited to their gaming table.”

“Yes, I heard that, too. It appears to be an individual that Leeza and Chané have some history with. I suspect Melvi is having a hard time as well.”

In the darkness, Huey was standing in front of a supply pump.

“Long ago, even Manhattan drew most of its water from wells. However, once plagues began to sweep through the city, the construction of the waterways progressed rapidly… Those were the days.”

“It’s terribly moving to hear these things from you, Master Huey. You actually saw it all happen.”

“Well, now… I’m curious about what Renee and Fermet are up to, but at the very least, I’m sure Renee isn’t here.” As Huey spoke, he walked on slowly.

Gazing at the bottle in Huey’s hand, Salomé swallowed hard. “…So the time of evolution is finally at hand.”

“It could end up being regression, you know.”

Smiling dryly, Huey took another step forward. Then a footstep that wasn’t his echoed in the facility. At first Huey thought it might be his imagination, but the sound continued even after he stopped moving. Measured footsteps echoed around them, coming closer.

“……” Narrowing his eyes, Huey gazed into the darkness.

“Who’s there?!” Salomé shouted, feeling intensely wary. He was sure he’d put the facility’s entire staff to sleep.

No one responded to his yell. Little by little, the footsteps drew nearer.

And then—a man stepped into the circle of light cast by the lantern they’d left on the ground.

“……?”

Huey didn’t recognize the man.

He appeared to be somewhere between his late fifties and midsixties. He had deeply chiseled features, and his eyes seemed tranquil at first glance.

When the man saw Huey, he shrugged. “You’re Mr. Huey Laforet, are you?” Stopping where he was, he went on candidly. “They tell me you’re over a hundred and fifty years older than I am. I’m the one who’s aged, though. Funny world, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Never a dull moment.”

“Sure you don’t need to go to Ra’s Lance? Your little henchmen are there, right?”

At that, Huey was sure the man not only knew about the immortals but had connections to the casino party as well. Studying him carefully, he answered this “older” man who was younger than he was. “They are there so that I can be here. Unfortunately, there are now others here, such as yourself. So…does this mean I’ve lost the gamble?”

“Life is a gamble, that’s true. There’s always a chance to turn things around with a single roll of the die, but you could also keep striking out forever. Unlike at a casino, though, you can attract a jackpot by working hard for it.”

With another shrug, the old man shook his head somewhat melodramatically. “However, send the good luck and bad luck to the young folks out on the street. For those of us who’ve strayed from the path, it’s not about luck. Retribution’s a better fit for us. There’s no place for us on Luckstreet anymore.”

That comment narrowed down Huey’s candidates for the man’s identity.

The man might have been elderly, but he didn’t seem to have faded at all. As a matter of fact, he had an intimidating air that could probably overwhelm younger people with ease, something similar to what Bartolo Runorata possessed.

Huey chuckled. “Am I sure I don’t need to go to Ra’s Lance…? I believe I should be asking you that question.”

“Oh?”

“Your precious foot soldiers are gambling with their very lives.” Coming to stand directly in front of the other man, Huey spoke his name with a certain respect. “Isn’t that right…Mr. Molsa Martillo?”

Molsa Martillo grinned at Huey, a much older man with far more experience. “If we don’t need to introduce ourselves, shall we get right down to business?”

“What business is that?”

“That should be obvious. The wager of negotiations.” With a self-deprecating smile, Molsa slowly started forward. “That said… There’s no luck here, good or bad. Just poetic justice. It’s a simple gamble—and depending on your answer, the chips may soon spell out revenge.

“That’s what suits those of us who’ve stepped off the path. Isn’t it?”

The third night of the casino party.

A gambling craze enveloped New York City.

One person bet money, another bet pride, a third bet their life, a fourth their future, and they all threw themselves into their separate wagers.

However, the end was coming up fast.

As all the cards they’d been dealt were revealed, the final crazy ruckus, a baccano in and around Ra’s Lance, was about to begin.