Baccano! - Volume 7 - Chapter 2

LINKING CHAPTER

DOCUMENTS AND INFORMATION, STORM AND TERRORISTS

The Daily Days newspaper President’s office Evening

“Things have gotten interesting. Yes, this strikes me as a truly interesting, intriguing situation.”

Sheaves of documents, piled into a massive heap.

The room they occupied was filled with the sound of rain from outside, and a subtle humidity was seeping into the paper. The telephone bells that usually rang incessantly were perfectly still now.

From the innermost depths of this room, which overflowed with paper stacks and the pitter-patter of falling droplets, there came an incredibly easygoing voice.

“To think the gang from the good old, bad old Flying Pussyfoot has gotten callers from the Martillos and the Gandors, of all people… Even characters under the influence of ‘the seeker’ Huey Laforet have gotten involved…”

“This is only going to be entertaining as long as it stays somebody else’s problem, President.”

A young guy with blond hair spoke to the mountain of documents, criticizing the voice coming from behind it for its irrepressible curiosity.

“I don’t want another mess like last New Year’s. Speaking as a rank-and-file staff member who gets slave-driven for peanuts every month…”

“I’m not so sure. You may say that, but you’re enjoying this a little, aren’t you? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have chosen to be in this room right now.”

As if in response to the subordinate’s griping, part of the mountain of documents collapsed.

“You may be a staff member in the editorial department, but not while you’re in here. Here, you’re an individual named Nicholas Wayne, and you are a full-fledged information broker.”

A newspaper that was also an “information broker,” which manipulated the ups and downs of various lives.

In this document-littered office, which could be considered the symbol of the place, several men stood in a row, each wearing a different expression. The paper disaster was so serious that there seemed to be no place to stand, but nonetheless, they’d dexterously found places to put their feet and now stood facing the Great Wall of Paper.

From the depths, in a spot where none of the others could see him, the president of the information bureau began to relate “somebody else’s problems” as if he were enjoying them right this minute.

“All right, let’s do a brief review. We’ll organize this incident briskly, simply, and clearly, just like carving up an apple pie.”

“I only wish it were something that appetizing.”

Sighing lightly, Nicholas began to give an outline of the incident matter-of-factly:

“Well, it all began with that business on the Flying Pussyfoot. Jacuzzi Splot and his friends rode that train in, and they set up shop here in New York, which is the root cause of all this. Of course, if their business had been legal, there wouldn’t have been any problems, but…”

Nicholas smiled wryly. Picking up where he’d left off, the black man who stood beside him spoke up cheerfully. “Ha-ha-ha and ha, there’s no way. There’s absolutely no way, I tell you! A band of kiddie thug wannabes as large as that group, finding work in this Depression? Impossible! That’s the sort of thing—the only thing—on which God is fair, even today: Not even thugs and children can escape the Depression. Such inequality does not exist, sad to say.”

“Shut up, Elean.”

Elean, the black guy, gave an exaggerated shrug and addressed the man with glasses who stood on Nicholas’s other side.

“I was only expressing a logical view. At any rate, the Gandors and the Martillos both sent people to punish those mischievous scamps, correct? That’s right, isn’t it, Henry?”

“Yes. However, the group already had visitors. Members of Larva, one of the many terror organizations created by the unparalleled mastermind Huey Laforet, were attempting to contact Jacuzzi and his friends… That said, I myself am the one who gave them information about Jacuzzi Splot. What they wanted was information regarding a group of hooligans who were not affiliated with any mafia syndicate yet had a certain amount of muscle.”

That brought them back to the beginning, and the genie of the documents spoke up.

“Then, when all the varied forces had assembled, there was some sort of clash. Afterward—as the reports said, something that appeared to be a smoke screen rose from the house, and everyone inside took the opportunity to scatter… You’re all with me so far, correct?”

No sooner had the president finished speaking than Elean said, mystified, “No, no, no, that can’t be everything, President. You went to the trouble of getting us together to talk about this; you must have some other information, right?”

“No, at this point, that’s it. It does look as though a couple visited Jacuzzi before Larva came to call…but I expect they were friends of his.”

“Huh? Then why did you go to all this—?”

“Huey Laforet,” the president stated quietly but firmly. “He’s involved. That’s enough, all by itself. At the very least, it would be best to familiarize yourselves with the outline of the affair now.”

“…But he’s already under arrest.”

“Then let me ask you this.”

Speaking as if he were testing the other man, the voice from the depths of the documents began to state the facts, simply:

“He’s been under arrest for over a year and a half…so why is it that practically no information has come in since then? It’s almost as if they’re trying to make the public forget he exists.”

“…”

At that, all the information brokers in the room fell silent.

Huey Laforet was a terrorist who had once caused a significant public disturbance. He’d been collared by the police for the crime of amassing a vast arsenal of weapons and attempting to overthrow the government. At present, however, there was no sign of a follow-up investigation, and nothing—no results, not even its progress—had been reported about the trial.

Rumor had it that he was being held in the military prison on Alcatraz. Only this information, which was like something out of an urban legend, had reached Nicholas and Henry’s group.

“It just means that, for the United States, this Huey character is that special a case. In the first place, Huey Laforet doesn’t care that he’s been arrested. On the contrary, it may all be one of his plans, police custody included… In the full knowledge that, afterward, his Lemures henchmen would be completely wiped out.”

“No, but… But why?”

“Who knows? Of course this is mere guesswork, but from what I know, Huey definitely isn’t the type to balk even slightly at making a sacrifice like that. That aside…I wonder if the members of Larva are aware that Chané Laforet, their boss’s daughter, is currently with Jacuzzi and his companions.”

It had been said offhandedly, but it was an incredibly important fact. The president went on. “Now then: Is there anything else that particularly warrants explanation?”

Prompted, Henry adjusted his glasses. “With all due respect, President, it looks as though the situation may be confused further—or possibly brought to an immediate conclusion.”

“Oho. What sort of information might that be?”

“…Vino is on the move.”

“!!”

Vino. At that word, the temperature in the room dropped sharply.

“The Rail Tracer—”

“The former Claire Stanfield—”

“The current Felix Walken—”

Nicholas and Elean listed off names one after another. Mentally, though, they were picturing only one person.

Facing those two, Henry continued his report, looking a little smug.

“We’ve received a report that one of Jacuzzi’s underlings left for Felix Walken’s accommodations, then took him back to his companions.”

“The hitman? Why would he…?”

“Because Chané Laforet is involved, and they’re engaged. I suppose it’s really only natural.”

“Engaged?”

The president answered Nicholas’s question from behind the mountain of documents.

“Ha-ha. That’s a long story, so we’ll save it for next time. The reunion of the hitman and the terrorist is far too lengthy and eventful to relate here.”

At that point, the president paused, then changed the subject as if he were talking to himself.

“Still. Well, well… I thought it was a trivial disturbance, apart from the fact that Huey was involved, but I’m getting a hunch it may develop into something pretty fascinating.”

Just as the voice behind the documents was growing animated, a light knock echoed in the room.

“It’s Rachel.”

A young woman’s voice spoke outside the door, and the president answered in tones that were still excited: “Ah, we’ve been waiting. Come on in.”

At that, the door to the president’s office swung open casually, and the woman entered. When he saw the person who’d announced herself as “Rachel,” Nicholas looked a bit surprised.

“You’re back?”

“…Came in on the evening train.”

Rachel muttered the words with a vaguely gloomy expression, then crossed to an open space in the center of the room.

“Did something happen?” he continued. “You look glum.”

“…I saw an ominous group on the train.”

“An ominous group?” Elean asked.

In response, Rachel spoke as if she were spitting the words out in distaste: “There’s no doubt about it. It was…Lamia.”

“Lamia…”

All the information brokers in the room traced the word back to its meaning, but aside from the original sense of “vampire,” it didn’t seem to ring a bell for Nicholas and the others.

Only the individual behind the paper mountain spoke, sounding entertained.

“How about that… Christopher’s Lamia is in New York?” After a moment’s pause, the president concluded, “I suppose it’s safe to assume they’re meeting up with the members of Larva. There’s really no need to even think about it. Still, I’m impressed you could tell they were Lamia just by being near them.”

“I’d never seen them before, and at first I almost thought they were some sort of circus, but…I’d heard rumors everywhere at my destination. With looks that striking, it’s hard not to recognize them.”

“Ah yes, I see. So Christopher was with them, too.”

“Yes. How should I put it…? The moment I saw him, it brought back memories of the Flying Pussyfoot.”

Rachel was gazing into the distance with eyes that held a mixture of loathing and nostalgia.

“How many were there?”

“I only saw two, Christopher and an Asian man. If the information is accurate, though, there should be at least a few more.”

“Yes, Lamia is a small group to begin with, and one of their members is apparently already in New York.”

The pair seemed to be satisfied, and Nicholas broke into their conversation with a complaint. “Hey, time out. Don’t just move the discussion along by yourselves over there.”

“Ah, beg pardon…”

Meekly apologizing to his subordinate for his carelessness, the president began to encourage the proceedings along. “All right, this has gotten good: Not only has the notorious Vino joined in, but the ‘vampire’ Christopher Shaldred is participating… Those two, squaring off— Or, no, if you include Ronny Schiatto from the Martillos, it’s a three-way standoff. Ha-ha! My friends, this incident may turn out to be more intriguing than we expected, don’t you think?”

Putting a damper on their boss, who was getting worked up all by himself, Nicholas openly asked something he’d been wondering about:

“Christopher Shaldred… I’ve never heard that name.”

“Oh, I see. The only ones who know about Christopher are myself, the vice president, and Rachel, who’s constantly traveling. After all, he—or rather, “they”—are like a migrating urban legend… This is the group’s first visit to New York, so it’s no wonder you don’t know about him.”

Seeming to feel that he’d blundered, the voice from behind the documents started to describe a certain individual.

“Very well. In that case, let’s begin by talking about Christopher…”

An information broker dealt in vast quantities of information, treating it as his own property, and the individual who led the organization managed that information like a director would his actors.

In a voice that seemed to say all the players were in place, the genie of the documents began to speak cheerfully, to the accompaniment of the rain drumming on the windows.

“Christopher Shaldred. Let me start by talking about this man, as a prologue to the ‘something’ that is about to begin…”