Baccano! - Volume 8 - Chapter 3.5

CHAPTER 3: BACK

LET’S ADMIT OUR MISTAKES GRACEFULLY

Somewhere in New YorkThe temporary offices of the Bureau of Investigation

“Okay, minions! Let’s get a report on what you know to your capable supervisor, shall we?”

In an old office used only by a select few within the Bureau of Investigation, Victor, who’d just woken from a nap, clapped his hands together loudly, announcing that their work was starting again.

However, the only response he got back was delivered in a voice so lazy it seemed to beckon him back to slumber.

“Uh… Sorry to butt in, sir, but shouldn’t the minions be capable in this case?”

“I won’t lie to myself or my men. After all, that is what makes capable people capable. Or so I’d like to believe.”

“Never mind, Assistant Director, just do your job, please. The reports are in document form already, and they’re sitting right there.”

In his cramped open-plan office, as his subordinates pelted him with criticism, Victor silently read through the reports.

As he scrutinized the information that had come from Alcatraz Island, Victor’s expression turned serious. He sent some significant words at Bill and Edward, who were working at their own tasks in the same room.

“Well, all joking aside…if Huey’s pawns are going to make a move, they’ll do it soon. Don’t be shocked if everybody in New York abruptly disappears today.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

“Don’t underestimate him.”

Edward had tried to take the statement as a joke, but Victor cut him off short, then began to explain Huey to his men.

“Of all the immortals, that experimentation maniac is a weirdo of the first order. He doesn’t give a flying fig for other people, nothing fazes him, and if it came down to it, he wouldn’t hesitate to use himself up as a guinea pig, too. After all, like Maiza, he messed around with stuff you could call magic, not just with alchemy.”

“Ah… In other words, you’re saying Huey is a magician?”

“Nope. Nothing that romantic. In the end, he’s a hopeless researcher and seeker and investigator. That’s all! Once he gets what he’s after, it’s immediately just a stop on the way! He never gets the means and the end mixed up, because to him, they’re the same thing right from the get-go! And so, even if you manage to figure out what he’s thinking, you can’t figure out the means at all! Even if you try to forestall him, he’s the type who’ll have worked the fact that someone forestalled him into his experiment! Dammit… The guy doesn’t even make it clear whether he’s stubborn or flexible.”

“Mm… Please make it clear whether you’re complimenting him or tearing him down.”

From next to Bill, who’d put in the desultory comeback, Edward piped up, looking serious: “As long as we don’t even know his objectives, there’s no way for us to act. What does the report from Alcatraz say? Is Firo making any moves at all?”

“No, it doesn’t look like he’s made any contact to speak of yet…”

The name his subordinate had mentioned reminded Victor of what had happened at Alveare a short while ago, and as he spoke, he hid an irritated expression.

“Well, that Firo kid was always just a throwaway pawn. I don’t expect much from him. If he figures out how Huey’s contacting the outside, I couldn’t ask for better, but… According to the call I got from Misery, it sounds like somebody else may have sent in special ‘prisoners.’”

“Somebody else…?”

“Uh… Could that be Nebula’s doing?”

In response to Bill’s weary question, Victor nodded, looking even wearier.

“They probably want to ask Huey for some information, or maybe they’re planning to take it by force. Either way, we’ll just do all we can, but… Hmm? What is it, Agent Noah?”

Realizing that Edward was looking his way and glowering, Victor adjusted his glasses and asked him a question.

“You look like you’ve got something to say.”

“Well… What you just said, about not expecting much from Firo—”

“What about it? Feeling conflicted over using him, since you know him real well?”

“No, that isn’t it. It’s just—”

Right as Edward was on the verge of saying something—

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The mechanical noise of the telephone bell echoed, interrupting the flow of events.

At the same timeAlveare

In the restaurant, it was just after noon.

The waitresses were bustling around busily, shuttling between customers of all ages and genders. At this time of day, when the number of respectable customers increased, out of consideration for the establishment, the members of the Martillo Family—who practically lived at the restaurant—holed up in the back.

In a corner, a man whose demeanor was very obviously different from that of an upstanding citizen sat lost in thought, nursing a glass of liquor in one hand.

“…Frankly, I didn’t expect that, either. To think you’d noticed me among all the noise…

“This is what makes a life with unknowns in it so interesting.

“Don’t mind me. I’m only talking to myself.

“…So you’re asking me for assistance.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?

“Fundamentally, there are no limits on the power I can wield.

“For that very reason, as much as possible, I use it only for the sake of my family.

“Even for the family, I’ve never committed such a foul to begin with.

“Splitting clouds and finding people is one thing, but that…

“Breaking someone out of prison, an extreme subversion of the law…

“That said, I did sneak in secretly to see an acquaintance.

“Well, never mind. In other words: If I use my power to save him—

“—it will put him completely on this side of things.

“Are you prepared to go that far?

“…You’re hesitating. Hmm. Well, forget about it.

“You seem drawn to that man from the bottom of your heart…

“However, for that very reason, you’re unsure whether it’s all right for you to decide his fate, correct?

“I’ll give you time to worry about it. I’m not that impatient.

“…What’s the matter? Decided not to go through with it?

“I see; so that’s your resolution. Believing in him and continuing to wait isn’t a bad idea.

“Fate is something you carve open for yourself, and being tossed about by others is the natural human state.

“Finally, and this is simply a word of advice from a friend…

“…The police may have already gotten to your apartment.

“Go stay with friends.

“It’s fine to cry your eyes out for a while.

“True, what he did may have been selfish…

“But that’s the side of him you were drawn to, isn’t it?

“Don’t nod so vigorously. You’ll embarrass me.”

“Hmm…”

Remembering a scene from about a month ago, Ronny Schiatto smiled in spite of himself.

Maiza, who was sitting next to him, noticed, and he looked him over as if he was seeing something unusual.

“What is it, Ronny? When you smile during your reminiscing, it’s unnerving.”

“Mm? Ah well, it’s nothing.”

“No, no, no, I mind… What’s the matter? You aren’t usually this pensive.”

“I was simply pondering human love.”

That word—love—had sprung from a man it really and truly didn’t seem to suit, and Maiza froze up for a bit. Multiple question marks rose in his narrowed eyes, and he broke out in a cold sweat, as if disturbed.

“Do I take your reaction to mean you’re picking a fight with me?”

“Oh, no, no! Not at all!”

“Well, never mind. More importantly, you seem to be pretty worried about Firo.”

“…Yes. I’ve heard the rumors about Alcatraz, after all.”

Maiza glanced at their surroundings, then went on in a voice that was low enough to disappear under the ambient noise.

“He may be immortal, but that won’t save him from dying inside.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”

“I do believe that, but…”

Maiza was still unable to hide his unease, and Ronny spoke about Firo as he appeared to him, not as a demon or alchemist but as a lone gangster.

“He is an immortal, but more importantly, he’s a Martillo Family camorrista. The caposocietà didn’t acknowledge him for the sake of appearances or on a whim.”

On hearing these words from a man who had been his close friend for many years, Maiza nodded, smiling wryly.

“I tell you, this is an unlucky business.”

“Would you have rather stayed an alchemist?”

“…No. I have regretted summoning you on board that ship, but…I don’t have the faintest regret that I’m here now.”

“Hmm… Likewise.”

After that, for a little while, they chatted about unrelated matters and drank together, but…

…about the time the lunch crowd was beginning to thin out—something unexpected happened.

Suddenly, the radio that sat on the restaurant counter began reporting a peculiar news item.

“……z…zZ…in……of……are related…investigating…”

“…poli…think the incident is the work of a large-scale criminal organization…”

“…What’s up?”

A few people in the restaurant began listening to the words they could catch in the static.

Possibly because the tense character of the broadcast had drawn her attention, one of the waitresses adjusted the tuner, improving the reception on the radio.

“…repeat. Mr. Placido Russo is believed to have been deeply involved with the kidnapping and serial bombing incidents that took place in Elleson Hill in Illinois. The authorities are currently—”

The sound was now coming through clearly, and when they heard it, Randy and Pezzo spoke to each other as they worked on their lunches.

“Elleson Hill. That’s over by Chicago, right? Bombings and kidnappings? Dicey stuff…”

“And Placido… Ain’t that the Russo Family’s don? He’s not famous like Capone, and they’re still running his name on the radio like that, bold as brass…”

“Yeah, even in Chicago, the Russo Family’s about as down on its luck as you can get. By now, they probably don’t need to be careful around ’em. Plus, officially, the guy’s in car sales.”

“Still, bombings and kidnappings, huh? What’s that knucklehead doing?”

The pair had decided that the topic was one to be laughed off, but—

—the moment they heard the next words from the radio, the mood in the restaurant changed drastically.

“Explosives were set in roughly three hundred locations. It isn’t clear how many casualties have resulted, but the concurrent kidnappings occurred in neighboring Chicago as well, with more than two hundred people simultaneously disappearing from the surrounding areas. The situation has the residents of Illinois visibly uneasy—”

“Three hundred?!”

“Two hundred people?!”

“With regard to this incident, Senator Manfred Beriam, who is currently staying in Chicago—”

The radio relayed more information, but no one in the restaurant was listening to it any longer.

The place had suddenly begun to buzz. Frowning, Maiza said frankly, “Some pretty unsettling things are happening in Chicago.”

“Yes, they are.”

“…Elleson Hill… That’s where Nebula’s based, isn’t it?”

Nebula was a leading domestic conglomerate. It had its headquarters in an enormous building in Chicago, and many of its branch companies and plants were located in a neighboring town called Elleson Hill.

“It’s an odd place. There are rumors that even the mayor is involved with Nebula.”

“I hear sixty percent of the town’s residents are Nebula personnel, in any case. I wonder what it could be… Did they start some sort of trouble with Placido? Although the matter seems to be beyond that level…”

The incident was an extraordinary one, and even if it was something on the other end of the radio, some tension was visible in Maiza’s eyes. If this actually was the mafia’s doing, the federal government might also begin working to stamp them out.

If that happened, it was bound to have a massive effect on even little organizations like the Martillo Family.

Beside Maiza, who was listening intently to the radio, Ronny put a hand to his mouth and began to lose himself in the world of his thoughts.

Hmm… I figured it would be one or the other—New York or there. But…

Inside his mind, he meshed the information from the radio with the information he “knew”—and, possibly because something had occurred to him, he knocked back his liquor, then murmured to himself:

“No, this incident is actually… Heh-heh. Well, never mind.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Huey Laforet. And all you mortal human beings.”

Madison Square Park

“All right. That’s how it is, young Miss Chané. It’d be a big help if you’d come with us quietly.”

Spike was leering, and Chané ground her teeth lightly, reviewing the situation she’d found herself in.

If Spike had been alone, she would have had no trouble. She didn’t think a blind sniper without a gun would be able to pin her down here.

However, that other man who had appeared from behind him—the man Spike had called Felix Walken—was clearly on a different level from ordinary people. She didn’t know whether this was due to innate talent or the product of hard work, but the aura he’d directed at her, the fact that he’d flung her away in an instant, and—more than anything—his name were making Chané tense.

Felix Walken.

She’d heard about him from Claire.

He’d said he’d gotten the false name he was currently using from a certain hitman.

The hitman was rumored to be a top-class hired killer, even in New York, and had become a covert legend. She also remembered Claire himself saying something to the effect that the individual was “the strongest, after me, of all the people I’ve seen so far.”

If the man in front of her was this “former” Felix, then her current situation was pretty serious.

However—although Chané had made that call, she didn’t show the slightest trace of fear.

She had no intention of withdrawing, and if there was anything that scared her, it was the idea of letting these two get away and inflict damage on Jacuzzi’s group. Before she let that happen, it would be easier to make them cough up their employer’s name—and most of all, she couldn’t overlook people who were trying to obstruct her father.

“…I see. Holding out to the bitter end, hmm?”

As the former Felix murmured quietly, he took his hands out of his coat pockets, rolled his head on his neck, and took a step toward her.

He’s coming.

Chané’s hands tensed on her knives. She was just about to launch into a run—as if to demonstrate that victory went to the swift—when, in the shadows of her field of vision, she registered several approaching figures.

“?!”

When she looked, about ten men were walking toward her from the park entrance. They were also dressed in black, as if they were in mourning. Half of them had powerful builds; at first glance, the other half looked normal, but their sharp eyes were all focused on Chané, too. In combination with those black clothes, the group reminded her vaguely of the Lemures.

“Heeey, over here, this way. It’s this brat.”

He must have heard their footsteps. Spike hailed the men, his lips twisting.

He’d already had the upper hand, and these new reinforcements had improved his mood. However, the black-clad newcomers muttered, and there was something vaguely tense about their expressions.

“Spike. There’s a slight problem.”

“What? What happened?”

“Just now, on the radio…”

“Hunh? Hang on a minute.”

Spike checked the words of the approaching men in black, and his smile vanished completely. Frowning, his words were tinged with doubt.

“Those footsteps… There’s one too many.”

The former Felix picked up on what he meant, and he was the first one to run his eyes around the area.

His cold eyes spotted…a lone man.

That man seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Just as the former Felix had seemed to do from Chané’s perspective, by the time he noticed him, the man was already standing beside her.

Spike noticed him next, and he called to the sudden intruder irritably.

“Who’re you? You’re not one of us.”

At that, the intruder spoke, and his eyes were perfectly clear.

“If you’re asking who I am…I’ll give you a real brief answer.”

Hugging Chané’s shoulders and pulling her close, the man introduced himself in a voice that brimmed over with confidence.

“I…am me.”

Silence enveloped the park.

The answer had been so bold, and so nonsensical, that Spike and the men in black fell silent for a little while. Until—

“What’re you, punk? Showing up in the nick of time… You think you’re a movie hero or something?”

—recovering his leer, Spike lobbed a taunt at the intruder.

In response, with no hesitation—although he did look just a little bashful with regard to Chané, who stood beside him—the intruder spoke.

“Well, uh… I didn’t show up in the nick of time… Actually…I’ve been watching for a while.”

“Huh?”

“See…I couldn’t quite curb my enthusiasm, and I’d been in the park for quite a long time already… But then I spotted Chané, lost in thought under the light filtering through the branches. And she was just way too cute, so…”

Those words had been said right by Chané’s ear, and she flushed bright red, turning reproachful eyes on the man.

“Ha-ha, c’mon, don’t act like that, Chané. I’d swear to it. You were incredibly cute.”

“…! …!”

“This isn’t the time for that? What are you talking about? As far as I’m concerned, your charms are a more important topic than these small-timers.”

Spike strained his ears, but naturally, he couldn’t hear Chané’s voice. She didn’t seem to have let go of her knives, so she probably wasn’t using sign language. Spike felt as if he were being made fun of, and he yelled at the couple, venting his irritation:

“Yeah, this really ain’t the time for that! Hold it, hold up, whatever, just hang on, people!”

Spike had been completely shut out of the pair’s world, and he swung the staff in his right hand down at the ground. The skin over his temples was taut.

“So who are you?! If you’re dumb enough to get involved in this, you’ll get hurt, or, uh, you know. Die.”

“You will, you mean?”

“Wha…?!”

Dammit, what the hell is this bastard?

At having his taunt answered with a taunt, Spike gnashed his teeth, glaring in the direction of the man’s voice with his mind’s eye.

But… What is it? I dunno, but this guy… There’s something nasty about him. Alarm bells are clanging away in my head like nobody’s business.

Spike broke out in a cold sweat, hoping that the people around him would make the first move, but…

…beside him, the former Felix’s icy stare hadn’t changed, and the surrounding men in black were waiting to get orders from somebody.

Deciding that if he didn’t calm down, there was no point, Spike desperately held back his irritation and sent another question at the intruder.

“Okay—fine, but gimme a name, at least. This is going nowhere.”

Spike wasn’t fully expecting answer, but the man responded with unexpected ease.

However, what he said threw the situation into further confusion.

“I’m Felix. Felix Walken.”

“…Huh?”

Nobody had seen that answer coming. Spike and the other men in black all turned to look at the former Felix. Felix looked away uncomfortably, refusing to make eye contact with them.

Not seeming to care about any of it, the intruder—Felix Walken, aka Claire Stanfield—spoke, indifferently and boldly.

“I’m Chané Laforet’s…fiancé.”

The Bureau of InvestigationSpecial offices

Brrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiingbrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiing

“…Is that from Donald?”

The call had come at an odd time, and for just a moment, Victor hesitated. Then, drawing a deep breath and resetting his mood, he put on his “coolheaded boss” face and picked up the receiver.

“Talbot speaking… Oh, so it is Donald, huh? What is it?”

Victor took his subordinate’s report in a dignified manner, but then—

“What…?”

—as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his expression stiffened instantly.

Then, still listening to the report through the receiver, he turned to Edward and silently gestured for him to turn on the radio.

Edward caught the meaning of the signal immediately. He turned the radio on and was about to adjust the tuner—

—but he didn’t even have to tune the station: Breaking news was already airing.

“Explosives were set in roughly three hundred locations. It isn’t clear how many casualties have resulted, but the concurrent kidnappings occurred in neighboring Chicago as well, with more than two hundred people simultaneously disappearing from the surrounding areas. The situation has the residents of Illinois visibly uneasy—”

Hearing the content of the broadcast, Edward froze in astonishment, and even Bill stopped moving and opened his sleepy eyes wide.

“Why…didn’t we get that information…before it was broadcast?”

Desperately forcing down his anger, which was on the verge of exploding, Victor kept listening to Donald’s report, shoulders trembling.

“Ah… I see… Understood. Understood, Donald. I’ll call you back as soon as we verify the situation with FBI headquarters.”

Once he’d heard the full report, Victor set down the receiver with startling slowness. He’d probably decided that, if he put even a little force into the action, he’d break it. His expression, which had been calm and arrogant, was now filled with nothing but quiet anger.

“Those bastards at Nebula… Apparently, they’re planning to keep the Bureau of Investigation out of the loop no matter what.”

His voice was calmer than they’d expected, and it made Edward’s and Bill’s hearts shrivel up.

“Huey Laforet… So all the men he had in New York were decoys?!”

Just as he said that:

The door opened with a click, and a man poked his head in.

It was a face Victor and the others didn’t know. From his clothes, he seemed to have been left homeless and unemployed by the Depression, which had been going on for several years. However, his face was filled with an intense energy, and he made a strange impression on the members of the Bureau.

For one thing, it was weird that a homeless man was in here at all.

“Who’re you?”

They hadn’t set a guard, but this wasn’t the sort of place anybody would wander into by accident…

The man spoke to the confused investigators in a polite tone that didn’t match his appearance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, or perhaps I should say it’s been a while, gentlemen of the Bureau of Investigation… Although I see there are only three of you here.”

“…?! Who are you?”

“As you seem to have been properly notified by radio, allow me to deliver a message from Master Huey.”

“?!”

At the name, tension flickered across the faces of the three men.

“Master Huey says, ‘I’m afraid I’m going to cause trouble for you, Victor, and I’m sorry.’”

“…?!”

A messenger?!

From the fact that he was here at all, and from the words he was saying, there was no chance that this was just a prank. In which case—

A hint regarding the contact method—what Victor and the others had wanted more than anything—had appeared right in front of them with exquisite timing.

However, at the same time, Victor’s instincts were sounding alarms.

Why now?

“I see… I don’t really get it, but… Stay right where you are.”

Victor’s icy glare seemed to freeze everything, but the man met it with a perfectly calm expression, and he even smiled as he spoke.

“Master Huey also says this: ‘I apologize for adding to that trouble, but…I can’t afford to involve you in the relationship between myself and Nebula at this point, and so…’

“‘…I’m going to tie you down just a bit longer.’”

The next instant—there was a light clunk, and they saw something fall at the man’s feet.

It was a cylindrical, brass-colored object—and a little smoke was rising from the string that sprouted from one end, along with a crackling sound.

The instant he realized what the object was, Victor’s face twisted in a yell.

“Get d—!”

Even before he could say it, Bill and Edward had dived into the shadow of their desks.

“Hey! That’s not fair, you—”

Before he’d finished speaking, there was a flash at the feet of the man, who made no attempt to run—

—and the roaring flames of an explosion enveloped the office.