Not caring that his own arm would be burned…
…the boy wished hard.
To devour the body in front of him, as his hatred dictated.
To gain the knowledge to save a woman whose name he didn’t know.
“Gahk…”
For a man who’d lived nearly three hundred years, it was far too abrupt a death.
And then
The only remaining earthly traces of Szilard Quates were the bright conflagrations of clothes and shoes.
Before long, those burned to ashes as well and were scattered by the wind.
Edward opened the back door just as Szilard’s leather shoes began to burn.
“…What the hell…?”
None of the police officers, Edward included, had any idea what had happened. Shoes were on fire, the Martillo Family executives were assembled, the priest and nun from earlier were there, a car with a badly dented body was stopped farther down the alley, and the whole place stank of liquid fuel.
“What’s going on? …Explain this, Firo Prochainezo.”
He strode over to the tired-looking boy and hauled him up by his collar.
“From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t look as though anyone died, but… Are you planning to start a handgun orchestra or something?”
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me! We’ve been getting civilian complaints about nonstop gunfire around here! You want me to haul you in for violating the Sullivan Act?!”
Just then, a roar echoed through the area.
The squad of police officers hastily ducked, shoving their hands into their jackets and looking around for the source of the noise.
On top of the car, the priest and nun had machine guns pointed at the sky. They were the tommy guns Dallas and the others had been carrying.
“Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! The Martillo Family’s treasure is ours!”
“Yes, it’s ours!”
“So long, incompetent policemen! And by the way, the Martillos haven’t done anything!”
“Not a thing!”
On that irresponsible note, they tossed the guns away and took to their heels. They’d probably spoken out of consideration for the Martillos, but the last half of that line had been synonymous with “The Martillos did something.”
“…Assistant Inspector…uh… Can we shoot?”
“No… They’re unarmed now.”
Why a priest? After giving it a little thought, he realized that something about them did ring a bell.
“…The bandaged bandits!”
“…Huh?”
“Never mind, just go after them! As long as they don’t have a gun, don’t shoot!”
Edward swiftly issued orders for their arrest to his bewildered men.
The policemen scrambled to follow them, and then Edward was the only police representative left.
“All right. You can’t hoodwink me with something like that, Firo.”
Just then, two more men appeared from inside the speakeasy.
“Ah… Edward, there you are.”
“We need your help with something. C’mere a second.”
It was Bill and Donald.
“But…”
“We’ll tell you what you want to know, too.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Come along and you’ll see,” Donald said, simply.
Edward hesitated a little, but in the end, he went with them.
After Edward had disappeared into Alveare, Bill spoke to Maiza.
“Uh… What happened to Szilard?”
At those words, Maiza gaped at the men in front of him.
Realizing who they really were, he gave them a straightforward explanation.
“Ah. He…disappeared.”
“Erm… Into you?”
Maiza smiled a bit mischievously as he answered:
“I can’t leak organization secrets to law enforcement, you know.”
After the police were gone, Maiza asked Firo:
“Firo… I don’t understand. When did you and the others become immortal? You have Szilard’s knowledge now. You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“Uh… Well…”
Nervously, Firo confessed:
“I saved this old guy yesterday.”
“I see…”
“He was carrying some liquor, and I switched it out on him on the sly. We’d bought four bottles of liquor, and I dumped out two. Then I poured the contents of the old guy’s bottles into the empties, and filled his bottles with the liquor from our last two…”
Firo had done it on a whim. If the old guy had given him a genuine thank-you, he would have told him the truth and given them back; if he cussed at him, the plan had been to keep quiet and swipe them.
“What you take, you share with the rest. I was just obeying Camorra law…”
“Don’t tell me… You passed it around to everyone at that party?”
“…Come to think of it… If I’d done it right, I probably could’ve switched two bottles and gotten by with only dumping one, couldn’t I…”
That hardly seemed to be a major problem.
“Firo…”
“Well, once I got Szilard’s knowledge, it all made sense, but… Maiza…”
At that point, Firo gave a forced smile and continued, addressing a stunned-looking Maiza:
“Coincidences really do happen, don’t they…”
The priest and nun ran at full speed, from alley to alley, toward a fleeting freedom.
The hum of the crowd was growing gradually louder. It was proof that they were close to a major street.
“This is bad.”
“Yes, it’s bad!”
Just as the mouth of the alley came into view, they realized there were two police officers standing in it.
The policemen seemed to have noticed them as well, but the pair didn’t let it faze them. Without slowing down, they yelled:
“Aaaah! Mr. Policeman, help us!”
“Save us!”
Their charade had been off-the-cuff, but thanks to their appearance, it seemed to have worked. Given their abrupt arrival, the officers hesitated.
Diving against the chest of one of the policemen, Miria trembled in an exaggerated way and cried:
“A-a-a-armed men just started chasing us!”
She wasn’t lying.
The police officers, who’d only managed to grasp about half the situation, overreacted to her words. Their hands went to their holsters, and they fixed tense eyes on the depths of the alley.
…But what appeared from around the corner was a group in familiar uniforms.
“Wha…!”
By the time the policemen had hastily turned back, the two had already broken into a run again and were weaving through the crowd.
The pair mounted the NYPD-issued police horses that had been waiting nearby and started after the two, but they were blocked by the very people they’d sworn to protect.
“Meeerry Christmaaaas!”
As Isaac shouted, he took bundles of bills from his bag and threw them high in the air, scattering them.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! You’re early, too early! You’re a month early!”
As Miria laughed and whooped, the avenue was transformed into a coliseum.
The bills took flight like a storm of confetti, and under their spell, the crowd began to gather them indiscriminately.
Men holding placards that said GIVE ME A JOB, panhandlers who’d been crying that their legs were broken, fine ladies on their way home with liquor they’d purchased, cargo-truck drivers, freight wagon operators, and even the well-to-do with purses full of money—all began to converge on the extremely easy-to-understand “blessing” of money.
Grab more money, faster, more tightly… It was a battle royal in an arena governed by simple rules. Confronted with surging waves of happy hysteria, the horses were unable to overcome the murderous intent of the combatants. …Even if they
had been able to overcome it, it was doubtful whether they would have been physically able to disperse that crowd.
Watching the dismayed policemen out of the corners of their eyes, Isaac and Miria kept running toward the station. Among those who robbed banks, the fact that you scattered money as you made your getaway was basic knowledge. It was effective precisely because everyone knew it… Or at least that was what Isaac believed, and in fact it had worked.
If there was any problem at all, it was that they’d scattered most of their total earnings (99 percent of which had been the Genoard legacy) by the time they reached the station.
That said, these two weren’t the type to care about something that important.
“Now, then… Where shall we run, Miria?”
“Anywhere!”
“Well, let’s see… Want to head back to LA and try digging up some gold?”
“A gold rush! But that isn’t robbery… Are we turning over a new leaf?”
“Uh… Well, no, it’s the other thing: We’ll be filching a fortune from the earth!”
“That’s amazing!”
Even as they kept up their usual sort of conversation, one thing bothered the pair:
“…We didn’t get to say good-bye to Ennis and everybody, did we?”
“…No, we didn’t.”
At the entrance to the station, the two thieves looked back once.
As they gazed at the kaleidoscopically shifting city, Isaac murmured quietly:
“This was an interesting town, wasn’t it.”
“Yes, really interesting!”
“Let’s come back again, to see Ennis and the rest.”
“Absolutely!”
Taking the last bundle of bills out of the bag, Isaac stepped into the station to buy two tickets to California.
“This is all we’ve got left.”
“Uh-huh… But we gave it away to everybody, so we did something good! I know we did!”
“I see… Yes, you’re right. I bet the late Mr. Genoard is happy, too, don’t you think?”
“And all the dead children!”
“Then let’s split the difference and wish for happiness for Mr. Genoard’s children.”
“Yes, let’s! They won’t fight over the inheritance now, and I bet they’re all living happily together as we speak!”
The two held fast to their self-serving proclamations right up to the very end. With that, the couple who had been the guests of honor at this baccano, this crazy ruckus, disappeared from New York.
Just before they boarded the train, the pair spotted a sign with WELCOME TO NYC! written on it.
To commemorate their departure from the city, on his way out, Isaac left a certain mark on that sign.
It was graffiti of a big bite mark, drawn on top of the picture of the apple that stood for New York.
When Dallas Genoard woke up, he was in a dark warehouse.
“Are you awake?”
Right in front of him were three men he was positive he’d shot to death earlier.
For his part, he’d been put into an oil drum, and his hands and feet were bound. His head was the only thing outside the drum, and he looked around, nervously. When he did, he discovered that his two buddies were in the same state.
“Ah, this place is a bit like a summer home for us. The police are prowling around our house and the hideout, you see…”
“Wh… Why… Why are you alive?!”
Luck answered Dallas’s scream, speaking for his brothers.
“That’s a very good question. Firo just called and told us a few things… But we’re under no obligation to tell you any of it. Worry about it until your lives run out.”
They’d been at that party as well. Meaning, since they’d drunk that toast, they’d also joined the ranks of the immortal. Of course, Dallas and the others had no way of knowing this.
Before Dallas could speak, Keith came up and put something into the drum.
It was a deck of cards.
“………?”
“You’re a real nice guy, Keith…,” Luck offered. “He says you’ll probably be bored on the ocean floor until you die of old age… So.”
When the meaning of those words sank in, Dallas’s group was assailed by desperate terror.
The fifty-two jokers that had been dropped into the oil drum sneered coldly at Dallas’s fate.
“You’ll be able to drown perpetually for another seventy years or so. That’s phenomenal. …It’s probably a world record, you know. Unfortunately, no one’s going to document it…”
“See, I wanted to just finish you off here and now, but you won’t die even if we slug you or drill you, so there’s no help for it… Hey, how about a radio to help kill time?”
Berga spoke, sounding entertained.
“Ha-ha-ha, the battery will die.”
“Oh, yeah. …What about a chess set, then?”
“The board will float up through the water. A Conan Doyle novel, perhaps?”
“The paper’ll get all wet.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”
“Gah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“………Heh.”
After laughing a bit, all three looked into Dallas’s eyes.
Their gazes were terribly cold. Cold enough to bring Dallas to tears.
“Go on… Choose. Which do you want?”
The members’ meeting place. When night fell and the old men assembled, Szilard was nowhere to be seen. Instead, five or six policemen were waiting for them. Edward, Bill, and Donald were among them.
“Wha… What are you?!”
“Erm… We’re the police.”
Bill gave a terse explanation to the old men, who were howling blue murder.
“Uh… You’re under suspicion for illegally distilling liquor, so we came to investigate.”
“Wha—? On what grounds?!”
“Well… There was a fire yesterday, you see, and this turned up in the ruins.”
He took out a soot-smeared bottle. It was, beyond a doubt, one of the bottles Barnes had been in charge of.
“Hmm… It’s nothing to do with you? …Well, then.”
He moved as if to dash the bottle to the floor. The old men screamed in unison.
“Haaa… You’re terribly easy to read. That’s nice.”
“Quit playing around, Bill.”
Donald picked up the conversation:
“The Bureau has been aware of your organization for quite a while now. We knew about Szilard, too, and about the liquor you were trying to make.”
A stir ran through the old men.
“Wh…why would the Bureau know about Master Szilard…?”
“Uh… Well, you see, one of our higher-ups is extraordinarily long-lived as well… To be honest, we came to New York on orders from above…to dispose of this liquor.
“‘Never close a case.’ That’s our motto at the Bureau. According to our boss, that goes for unscientific incidents from two hundred years ago as well.”
“H-hey! Edward!”
Someone called his name. It was the man at the top of his list of irritating bosses: Police Superintendent Veld. That meant even high-ranking police officials had been among Szilard’s followers… But at the same time, it also meant Szilard hadn’t managed to grab any more power than that.
“Edward! Do something! Stop them! If we have that liquor, the world can be ours! We’ll be evolved humans! You want that privilege, too, don’t you? So… Hey, Edward! Say something!”
Edward was so exasperated that it actually calmed him down.
He even began to smile. Really, there was nothing to do but laugh.
“Superintendent… If you’d at least said, ‘We can rid the world of disease and accidental death,’ I might have thought about it, but… Frankly, you’ve disappointed me.”
“E-Edward!”
“Superintendent… If it’s a choice between personal eternity and eternity for our country, I choose the country.”
Edward took the bottle f
rom Bill.
“And since I am a police officer, I can’t overlook something made in violation of the law.”
With no hesitation, he hurled the bottle into the corner of the room.
As the old men shrieked, the bottle smashed to bits.
Some of the old men tried to lap up the liquor spreading across the floor, but as if he’d seen this coming, Donald struck a match and tossed it to the ground.
The alcohol blazed up, illuminating the despairing faces of the old men with a beautiful, fleeting light.
The detectives splashed water onto it from a bucket one of the police officers had been holding, and both the fire and dreams of immortality disappeared in the blink of an eye. They’d intended to break the bottle in front of the men all along.
“Erm… Well, then… Do your best at your jobs until you die of old age, gentlemen. Depending on how you work, your honor may live eternally as the foundation of this country. And… Oh, and by the way, Mr. Szilard won’t be coming back.”
Saying their good-byes to the old men, who were busy fainting or bawling, Edward and the others left the basement.
As they swayed in the car Donald was driving, Edward muttered resentfully:
“…You tricked me.”
At first, he’d been unable to swallow their story of the liquor of immortality. However, when he saw the rat that had been discovered at the scene of the fire—the rat that had survived even as it burned—he’d had no choice but to believe.
“Erm… Sorry.”
“But why did you tell me everything?”
Donald answered that question briefly.
“Our boss… He isn’t at the top of the Bureau of Investigation, but he’s fairly high up. He heard you were stubborn but had a strong sense of justice, and that you wouldn’t bend to bribes or violence, and apparently he took a shine to you.”
“…How did he know about me?”
“You applied to the Bureau. We vet our applicants much more thoroughly than you’d imagine.”
“…………”
“Erm… We’ll look forward to working with you in the future.”
Bill and Donald gave sly grins.
Edward shook his head and smiled wryly, responding to the two who were slated to become his senior colleagues.
“…When that happens, no more secrets.”
The Rolling Bootlegs Page 18