1932 Drug & The Dominos Read online

  Berga’s injuries had just healed through the power of immortality, but Claire physically hadn’t taken any damage.

  When Keith and the other three returned to their office on foot, no one was there except for Tick, who lived there. Since everyone had been ordered to stay home and wait, this was only natural.

  “All right, on to the main topic: Who am I killing? If I’m taking out Bartolo, I’ll need to get myself psyched up for it, but if it’s just Gustavo, I can get him today if you want.”

  “You know a lot about this.”

  “Bartolo’s hired me a few times. I’d bet Gustavo doesn’t know that, though.”

  “…If you’re a contract killer, do try to preserve client confidentiality, please.”

  “Ha-ha-ha! You’re as picky as ever, Luck. Well, it’ll be fine. You guys aren’t going to rat me out or anything, right? …Right?”

  Claire sounded entertained. Luck explained the substance of the job, speaking for his brothers:

  “Well then, Claire. First: Don’t do anything. Until we ask, just wander around town, if you would.”

  “What?”

  Claire looked a little confused. Luck narrowed his eyes, as if he was plotting something.

  “For the moment, we want you to act as a deterrent.”

  Right about then, Gustavo was raging in a hotel room.

  “You’ve gotta be shitting me, Begg! You think you can just say, ‘Somebody stole it,’ and that’ll be it?! I was counting on these bombs of yours!”

  “I had him…tell me…how to…make…them. Give…me…a…month…and…I…can…mass-produce…them…at that…factory.”

  “That’s not fast enough! Dammit! I thought I’d get to blast the Gandors’ turf sky-high right this second! The speakeasies and the gambling dens and the betting parlors, everything, customers and all!”

  “Are…you…crazy?”

  “Shove it! I don’t care how it looks anymore! I tell you what, that friend of yours is pretty useless, yeah?”

  On hearing that, with a speed that was utterly different from any of his previous movements, Begg got right up in Gustavo’s face.

  “Gah?! Wh-what?!”

  “Don’t mock my…friend.”

  That was all he said. Then Begg stepped back again. Even if it had only been for a moment, Gustavo had been overwhelmed, and without thinking, he clenched his fists and squeezed out a sore loser’s line.

  “Hah! Well, it’s true, ain’t it?! Any loser who lets someone lift the tools of his trade is the lowest, most incompetent merchant ever!”

  On hearing those words, Begg looked blank for a moment. Then he laughed loudly.

  “Ha-ha-ha! You…couldn’t…be more…right! I…haven’t…laughed out…loud…in ages. Thanks!”

  With that parting shot, Begg left the hotel room.

  “What the hell?”

  Failing to understanding the intent behind the man’s actions, Gustavo thought about what he’d said.

  Getting the tools of your trade stolen. Lowest, most incompetent…

  Drugs. Roy. Robbery. Person in charge. Me.

  “Huh?”

  Finally registering the meaning of Begg’s laugh, he hurled his third ashtray at the window glass.

  “You meant meeeeeeeeee!”

  That night at the information brokerage, the executives held a report meeting.

  “The most noteworthy information tonight is probably the incident aboard the Flying Pussyfoot, the one Rachel got pulled into while she was on the train. After all, it looks as though Senator Beriam himself is working to cover up the affair. I’m requesting information from my acquaintances at the railway company by telegraph as well, but even then, I doubt we’ll manage to gather all of it. The problem is that red monster Rachel says she saw; however, I have an idea about that. They say the hitman Vino was on that train, and I think if we speak to him, we may be able to get nearly all the information that exists regarding this incident.”

  “Vino… You mean Claire Stanfield? Didn’t he die in the conductors’ room?”

  Nicholas’s question received a confident-sounding reply from behind the documents.

  “This is only a hunch, mind you, but…that was probably someone else. Scraping the face off, then burning the body: That’s rudimentary camouflage. He’s slapdash, and that’s just like him. Besides, Rachel, who reported this incident, doesn’t seem to have told me quite everything. She’s a habitual ride-stealer, and considering the fact that she was released easily, it’s likely that she got a ticket from someone. She isn’t brazen enough to steal one from a corpse.”

  “You mean, in that case, the only people with spare tickets would have been the conductors?”

  The genie of the documents agreed with Elean.

  “Right, except both conductors were dead. Taking that into consideration, I think she may have met Claire and been told to keep quiet about it. She’s terribly conscientious about such things.”

  After a short pause, he added a few miscellaneous thoughts on Claire.

  “Besides, I really can’t believe he’d die that easily. I can’t think of many people who could kill him. Ronny of the Martillo Family, or Chané Laforet of the Lemures…”

  He listed a few other names, then, at the end, gave the name of the most likely candidate:

  “Or…the Handyman, Felix Walken. He might be able to win… Although I hear he wants to get out of the hit business.”

  “Felix Walken? Is he still in town?”

  A hint of astonishment came onto Nicholas’s face.

  “Yes, he has a daughter now, and it sounds as though he wants to get rid of his past, but… They say he’s the best in Manhattan and that he could take on Albert Anastasia’s Murder, Inc.—the one directly under Lucky Luciano’s control—all by himself. No one’s going to let him retire that easily.”

  At that point, the president changed the subject and spoke about the incidents surrounding the Runorata.

  “—And that should do it. By the way, Nicholas. What happened to that black bag?”

  After summarizing the day’s movements, he checked on an item of information that hadn’t yet been reported.

  “No particular problems. We got a report that two men entered Lia Lin-Shan’s room, but it was probably her younger brother, Fang Lin-Shan; he was supposed to arrive today.”

  “They’re both Chinese? Odd names, if so.”

  “Their father was British, so it’s probably related to that. From what I hear, their community tended to keep them at a distance, and the brother caused some sort of trouble because of it.”

  “What about the other man?”

  “We haven’t confirmed this yet, but apparently, he’s the brother’s friend, a young man by the name of Jon Panel.”

  “You know a lot about it. You managed to check into him that quickly?”

  “No, it’s just—those two were involved with the Flying Pussyfoot incident as well. It’s a coincidence.”

  This satisfied all the executives, and they nodded. Then the president wrapped things up:

  “All right, Nicholas, you keep your men on that. Tracking the movements of that sort of perpetually moving thing is very important. The liquor-of-immortality affair last year was the same way, remember? In that incident, all the coincidences were focused on that drifting liquor. Well, in the end, it proved impossible to predict its movements completely. Compared with that, we’ve been able to observe the movement from the very beginning this time, so nothing could be easier. Then, let’s see, regarding strange things that happened today… ‘An ashtray fell out of the sky and struck a Ford.’ …What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What should I do?”

  In a room on the first floor of a tiny apartment building in a corner of Little Italy, Lia Lin-Shan was gazing at the black bag, thoroughly perplexed.

  Her friend Edith had left it in her care, and that was fine, but this room didn’t even have a lock, and she couldn’t keep it here forever. Precisely because it
was something that would have to be handed over to the police in an emergency, she needed to put it somewhere more secure.

  She’d told Edith she’d leave it with someone she could trust, but when it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure whom she should give it to. She’d have felt safest leaving it with Ronny or Maiza, but since she was supposed to keep it secret from the syndicate members, that wasn’t an option.

  Should she ask Ennis, maybe? As she was thinking about it and fiddling with the handle of the bag, she heard a knock at the door to her room.

  For a moment, she flinched, but the voice that followed set her heart skipping cheerfully.

  “It’s been forever. It’s me, sis.”

  The voice belonged to her younger brother, who ordinarily lived far away.

  “Uh, ’scuse me…”

  Her brother and the young man who’d come with him were planning to stay here for the night.

  Apparently, the dining car on the train where they’d worked had been closed suddenly, and tomorrow, they’d be starting at new jobs with a rich person who lived on Millionaires’ Row.

  “Huh? You’ll be living there?” Lia asked.

  “Yes, we will. They say we can bring all our luggage, too. They’ve got a big safe, so they said we could bring our valuables or anything else and not have to worry—”

  When she heard those words, Lia’s problem evaporated.

  Trustworthy people with access to a safe place had appeared, just like that.

  1932 New Year’s Day

  “What’ll I do? That Roy… I wonder where he went.”

  Edith had spent the past few days desperately searching for Roy.

  Even from a distance, it had been obvious that mafia-type thugs were watching his apartment. Roy probably wasn’t dumb enough to go back there.

  At the same time, that meant he hadn’t been caught yet.

  In search of a glimmer of hope, Edith decided to visit a place she’d heard rumors about: an information broker.

  Behind the door under the Daily Days sign, several members of the editorial staff were hard at work, even though it was New Year’s Day.

  “Welcome to our information brokerage. We sincerely appreciate your visit.”

  The first person to speak to her was, put briefly, a man with a nasty smile. She felt a little sorry she’d come in, but it was too late to turn back.

  “Have you come to inquire about a regular subscription to our newspaper? Or perhaps you’re here for information?”

  The man’s courteous attitude made Edith nervous, but she told him, “For information.”

  “In that case, if you’d step this way. My name is Henry. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  The man at the desk warped his unpleasant face even further and ushered Edith into a reception room.

  Just then, in the president’s office, Nicholas was talking to the genie of the documents.

  “Henry’s hiding something.”

  “I know. He’s still a bad liar.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with his provision of information. He just enjoys it way too much.”

  “He doesn’t know the risk of information yet, that’s all. If he ever gets himself into some sort of dangerous scrape, that bad habit should improve slightly, but…”

  A rather complicated emotion crept into the voice that issued from behind the paper stacks.

  “If possible, I don’t want anyone on my staff to encounter that sort of situation. After all, that’s what information is for in the first place.”

  Handling information is a pleasure. That’s why I chose this occupation. Information brokers stealthily pass notes to one another in back alleys and the corners of bars; I thought that image was everything. Whoever would have thought such a conspicuous brokerage existed?

  Manipulating information means manipulating something that accompanies it. Sometimes that’s money, sometimes people, sometimes lives, sometimes cities. In the end, I’d wager it’s possible to move nations, or even the world.

  What an exquisite pleasure it is to hold all these fates in the palm of one’s hand. None of the drugs that have been popular of late could ever compare. It makes you feel as if you’ve become a god but with all your wits intact.

  It’s the same at this company. Of the information regarding the current Runorata and Gandor affair, I’m the only one who knows that Roy is pursuing Eve. This incident is connected: It forms a ring. That is information I alone hold. One could say my position in the world that surrounds this affair is more advantageous than anyone else’s.

  Still, that Roy fellow seems to have begun dancing to the tune of my information with astonishing ease. That’s what makes this job so addictive. Up until now, thanks to Nicholas, Elean, and the president, it never went well, but this time it did, yes indeed.

  Roy’s a hopeless imbecile, though. There’s no way a little girl like that would know about the drug factory, no way she could possibly become a witness. Even if he did manage to make contact and kidnap her, the moment he threatened the Runoratas, they’d simply destroy the evidence, and that would be the end of it.

  Even if he escaped the Runoratas, he’d have become a kidnapper.

  There’s no way to prove any connection to this newspaper, and I was not doing business: I simply murmured to myself.

  Of course, if he’d had money, I would have served him properly. I am a merchant, and I flatter myself that I do have that much pride.

  When all is said and done, he’s the dregs of society, scum that has turned to drugs and is bound for destruction.

  I loathe fellows like that from the bottom of my heart… In consequence, I merely finished him off, that’s all.

  There’s absolutely no problem. None, none, none.

  And now, this woman is here as a customer.

  Roy’s sweetheart, Edith, hmm? This has gotten interesting.

  I want to twist her fate, too.

  Controlling the fates of two lovers at once. What a delight that would be!

  “I do have some idea of where Roy may be.”

  “Really?!”

  “As a matter of fact, the other day, I had the opportunity to speak with him privately…”

  As I told her everything that had occurred between us, I saw her face grow paler and paler. That was amusing to watch, all on its own.

  “Just a minute… Then where’s Roy?”

  “I’d imagine he’s probably attempting to do something with Miss Eve. I did warn him against it, you know.”

  “I’ve got to stop him…”

  As she hastily tried to rise from her chair, Henry struck her with a brisk statement:

  “And where do you intend to go? You don’t know Miss Eve’s whereabouts, do you?”

  At that, Edith shot Henry an intense glare.

  “Tell me. I’ll pay whatever you ask!”

  She slapped her pocketbook down on the table, but Henry shook his head.

  “What do you mean to do by stopping him? It really is the only remaining way to save him, no matter how slight the possibility may be.”

  “That isn’t true. You said so yourself: It was the only way because Roy didn’t have money. In other words, if he’d paid a proper sum, there was proper information available. Right?”

  “I would advise you not to get too carried away.” His expression clouding slightly, Henry tossed Edith’s pocketbook back at her. “Do you think information that could be used to outwit the Runoratas is something individuals such as yourself and Roy could easily obtain? Don’t misunderstand me.”

  Slowly rising from his chair, he put his face up close to the woman’s. His tone and the look in his eyes had undergone a drastic change: He was like a god who governed the truth of the world—or possibly more like a devil.

  “Information is power. It’s only natural that there’s a cost to obtain it, is it not? Then, too, those without power die. That is also perfectly natural. It couldn’t possibly be so cheap that those without the strength to serve
as the price—financial clout, or authority, or personal connections—could acquire it easily.”

  Abruptly, his face and tone returned to normal, and he resettled himself deeply in his chair.

  “—That is how matters stand. Have I made myself clear?”

  Edith glared at the man. Despite his sentiment, she spoke in a voice filled with a quiet determination…

  “In that case, let me ask. What sort of information could compensate for that information? Give me an example.”

  Shrugging as if he was mildly surprised, Henry thought for a bit, and then he remembered the executive meeting the night before and gave his answer:

  “Have you heard of the incident that took place yesterday aboard the Flying Pussyfoot?”

  “…And so, in order to learn about important aspects of the incident, the information held by this contract killer, Vino—or rather, his testimony—is vital.”

  When he’d spoken that far, Henry paused and drew a deep breath.

  “Well, to cut a long story short, if it was in exchange for Vino’s story, I believe I could tell you both Eve’s location and a way to escape the Runoratas.”

  “You mean it? Swear.”

  With no hesitation, Edith made as if to leave. Henry asked her a single question:

  “Why would you go that far?”

  “Promises. It took him time, but he kept his. I don’t have time, though. If I don’t work fast, he’ll die. That’s all.”

  “Really?” Henry asked, surprised. “That’s really the only reason?”

  “That’s what promises are, aren’t they? Even if they really aren’t worth it.”

  Not even turning to look at Henry, she flung the door open. Her expression was determined.

  “I heard all that, you bottom-dweller.”

  At the voice that abruptly addressed him from behind, Henry shuddered involuntarily.

  “Do you even know what shame means? You’d better be prepared to take a pay cut, at least.”

  “M-Mr. Nicholas.”

  When he turned around, the English-edition copy editor was standing there, scowling. Apparently, at some point, he’d come in through the door at the back of the reception room.