The Rolling Bootlegs (12 page)

When that time comes, I intend to give my full cooperation.

“—Uh… By the way, getting back to the robbers…”

He was pulled back to reality. His current opponent wasn’t a big boss like Capone, or a little syndicate like the Martillos. It was a weird, well-bandaged couple.

Edward sighed. His mood was on a downhill slide.

“Whew. The pain’s finally subsided.”

As he rubbed his bruised arm, Isaac gave a sigh of relief.

“It has, hasn’t it.”

It wasn’t as if she was actually feeling Isaac’s pain, but Miria agreed with him.

The thieving duo, who’d been hit by a car, were walking along Broadway carrying their helmet and mask, which had been miraculously unharmed. Even when they noticed the pair, the passersby only thought they must be involved with a musical, and so didn’t pay them much attention.

“Still, the lousy tin can that pulled that hit-and-run—Next time I see it, things are going to get ugly!”

“Ugly!”

“I’ll hit it!”

“You’ll break your hand.”

Miria occasionally contributed a good comeback. However, Isaac was undeterred.

“Then…I’ll hit whoever’s driving it!”

“How are you going to drag him out?”

“Then…I’ll spit on the car!”

“Ooh, that’ll be perfect!”

Before long, the two of them entered a deserted alley where they began to discuss their next caper.

“All right… Our journey is approaching its climax.”

“It really is!”

“It’s been a long road, now that I think about it… Yes. First, we became thieves of time!”

“The time we stole clocks, right?”

“Then there was that big job… The one where we tried to steal an entire museum.”

“We eventually realized it couldn’t be done, though.”

“Yes, and so, in order to at least make it impossible for anyone else to get in…we stole the entrance!”

“Those doors were our heaviest prize yet!”

No one could stop these two now. It was nearly impossible to tell whether this crazy conversation was natural, or whether it was a type of trance to help them escape reality.

“Once, in a bid to become villains, we stole the source of children’s nourishment!”

“Yes, we took chocolate. I bet the kids in that town starved to death! Poor things!”

It felt more as if these guys were the “poor things.” Had chocolate been all they’d eaten when they were little? …One got the vague idea it might have been.

“We repented, deciding to do good things from that point on, and then…we did that one job.”

“That one, yes!”

“We stole a rich man’s legacy!”

“Now there won’t be a fight over the inheritance!”

“We preserved one family’s peace.”

“I bet they’re really happy right now.”

They didn’t seem to have the slightest idea that, thanks to that job, the Bureau of Investigation had begun to move. That said, it was rather doubtful whether they knew an organization called the Bureau of Investigation even existed.

“And so! Since it felt so good to do something good, let’s make our last job a good one as well!”

“What kind of job?”

“We’ll steal the Mafia’s black money!”

He said something that would have been no laughing matter even if he’d been joking, but fortunately, there was no one else around.

“That’s amazing! Isaac, you’re just like Momotarou!”

“Mo-Mo-Ta-Row?”

“It’s a fairy tale from China or somewhere! A guy with a
katana
and his henchmen storm an ogres’ hideout, fists swinging, and steal all the gold the ogres had collected!”

She had several things wrong, but Isaac didn’t know the truth, and he accepted it at face value.

“I see, I see! An antihero, then!”

“Isaac, you’re so cool!”

“Let’s live with the thought of those dead children engraved on our hearts.”

Apparently, to them, the simple theft of chocolate had turned into something rather macabre.

“How cool!”

While they were having this dim-bulb conversation, a group of four men came walking toward them.

Isaac and Miria moved over to the side of the alley, but the group was arrogant, and they didn’t give way at all. As a result… One of the men’s arms made contact with Miria, and she staggered, very slightly.

“Hey now, be careful!”

“Be careful!”

…And the spiral of destiny turned again.

Dallas Genoard was in a foul mood.

It all began last month, when his family’s estate in New Jersey had been burgled.

His grandfather had died, and an enormous inheritance had been just about to come his way.

His mother had already passed on, and he had only three family members left: an older brother, a younger sister, and his father.

He’d planned to kill his father, then pin the crime on his brother.

If it had worked, a majority of his father’s share of the inheritance would have fallen to him. He could then have given his little sister pretty much any excuse and taken the rest from her.

The plan had been flawless. He had no intention of carefully examining the content now, at this late date, but if he’d put it into action it probably would have been a perfect crime. …And yet.

On the night he’d gone home fully set on carrying out his plan, the house had been robbed.

Before he knew it, several of the servants had been tied up, and the entire contents of the safe—cash, title deeds, jewels, everything—had been spirited off. None of the guards had noticed a thing.

He thought it must have been the work of someone incredibly sharp. …Although he was a little concerned by the fact that, according to the servants’ testimony, the culprits had been “white Indians,” and by the fact that they’d left a note in the safe that said “We’ve taken the seeds of your unhappiness.”

In the end, no inheritance had come his way, and he’d ended up having to return without executing his plan.

It would take time to sell off the land, and since it was cheap property out in the country, it wouldn’t bring in much… So, if the criminals weren’t caught, should he take that risky gambit anyway, even if it was just for the sum value of the land?

He’d come back to this ripe apple even as he mulled over such concerns, and for now, he was doing as he pleased. He and his cronies made a habit of mugging the unsuspecting and then pissing away the money.

Just when he’d been feeling irritated by that routine, that old man—and Firo—had appeared.

That lousy brat!

The boy had looked significantly younger than Dallas. As he remembered the kid’s face, he gritted his teeth.

Like we’re actually gonna let that punk make monkeys of us and get away with it!

But the guy
had
thrashed all four of them.

If we at least had more people… Or, no, if I had a gun…

Dallas hadn’t had either, so he had headed somewhere that was bound to have both. He’d thought that if a punk from some other organization was acting like he owned the place, the actual owners would make a move. But he’d been very wrong.

As a result, they’d acquired a variety of new bruises and were back to skulking around the city.

Dammit. I’m gonna murder that punk and the Gandor chumps, too.

As he walked along, irritated, he lost the capacity to pay attention to his surroundings. …Not that he normally paid attention when he was walking, in any case.

His arm bumped into something.

He decided to ignore it and keep walking.

Someone yelled something at him from behind.

When he turned around, a couple in weird clothes were grousing at him.

Out of spite, Dallas decided to thrash the man and assault the woman.

He didn’t feel the slightest shred of guilt.

Ennis had found the men she was after, but she wasn’t sure whether she should strike.

If it had been just the four of them, there would have been no problem, but two people who weren’t targets were there as well.

Not only that, but she thought she’d seen the pair somewhere before.

When she noticed the Japanese helmet the man was holding, she remembered everything.

It was the couple she’d hit while chauffeuring that morning.

And those two were traveling with the four men she was targeting…

“Sumbitch!”

One of the four men punched the male half of the couple. The tall man had no way to fight it: He took a fist in the stomach and fell to the ground with a thud. With that as an opener, three of the men began to kick him and kick him and kick him—

“Eeeeeek, Isaaaaac!”

The last of the four men had the woman in a full nelson.

Apparently they weren’t friends with the other four. On the contrary: If nothing changed here, they might be killed.

Immediately, Ennis gauged her surroundings. No one seemed to be coming. Of course, if those four were reported and apprehended by the police, she’d have a problem on her hands.

That said, if she went out there, the man and woman would remember her face.

After a little hesitation, she stepped into the alley.

When she was close enough to touch him, the man who had the woman in a headlock noticed her.

“…What’s up, doll? Those are some weird clo—”

He was cut off midsentence.

Drawing a clean arc in midair, a spin kick connected with the man’s temple.

When Szilard had bestowed on her a variety of “knowledge,” he’d given her combat-related expertise as well. On top of that, she didn’t simply understand it with her brain. Her entire body
knew
it.

She’d managed to unleash that kick with perfect balance, just as if she’d practiced it thousands of times. If Szilard gave her the knowledge, she’d probably be able to ride horseback or dance perfectly on the first try, too.

“…What the hell?”

The three men stopped kicking and turned to look at her. The man who’d taken her assault was on the ground, unmoving. Released, the woman ran to her lover (?).

Without a word, Ennis approached Dallas and the others, then
sank a punch in the nearest solar plexus. She bent forward slightly as she did so, launching a sharp attack on the man’s center.

The fellow bent double, leaning over her. Smoothly, Ennis sidestepped the falling tough and charged at the next one with a speed that made it hard to believe she was a woman. Keeping her stance low, nearly sliding, she swept his feet out from under him.

Ennis had closed the distance between them in an instant, and the second man was completely at her mercy. At the shock that ran through his feet, his stance fell apart in spite of himself. His weight proved too much for his shaky balance to hold, and finally, he fell right on his can.

As he tried to get up, Ennis drove her shoe into his chin. His head went backward, and he just managed to stop it a little ways from the ground. Then her foot struck again. The added momentum smashed the back of his skull into the pavement with a dull thud.

Dallas only watched the spectacle, stunned. Memories of the thrashing they’d gotten that afternoon rose vividly in his mind.

In a mere dozen seconds, all three of his companions had been knocked out.

“…This time… This time, it’s a
broad
?!”

Today was not his lucky day. Even as that thought tore through his mind, he was sure he couldn’t win against the woman. His knife had been taken when he entered the Gandors’ hideout. …Not that he thought he could have won even if he’d had it, however.

“O… Okay! We’ll let those guys go. Just give us a break, all right?”

As far as he was concerned, he’d thrown away both shame and his reputation with that line, but the dame wouldn’t let him go.

“No, my business is with you.”

“Huh…? Uh… Gah…!”

The woman sank her fist into Dallas’s solar plexus. When she bent forward, it had seemed to Dallas as though she’d disappeared. Her attack had simply moved that fast, and it unerringly snatched his consciousness away.

“………”

Still silent, she looked around. All four men were out cold, and the man and woman pair were long…

“Wow! She took them out all by herself!”

“That’s
amazing
!”

…Not gone. They hadn’t run.

“Thanks, sister! We’re complete strangers, and you still saved us!”

“Thank you!”

The two hit her with rapid-fire thank-yous, and Ennis felt a little guilty. It was too late to mention that she’d saved them because she felt bad for having hit them with the car.

“You’re just like one of those, what’s the word… A hero!”

“Except she’s a lady.”

“Ah, right, of course… A heroine!”

It was a strange conversation, but they really did look happy. This bewildered Ennis. Now that she thought about it, in all the time since Szilard had created her, no one had ever thanked her before.

“We owe you our lives, lady! Ask for anything!”

“We’ll do anything!”

The offer actually troubled Ennis. At a time like this, was it all right to turn them down? If she did ask for something, how much was she allowed to ask for? This was “knowledge” Ennis didn’t have.

Cautiously, after giving it a little thought, she made a request: