The Rolling Bootlegs (9 page)

Not far from that garbage dump, there was a jazz hall. Its basement held an office that could be considered the headquarters of the Gandor Family, who ran this territory.

Jazz from the establishment upstairs filtered through the ceiling. With this as their background music, a dozen raucous men drank liquor, laughed, and raged.

The participants were obviously not upstanding citizens, and they were doing whatever they pleased across the cramped space.

However, there was one solitary spot where discipline reigned.

Four men sat at a round, central table while ten men stood around
the perimeter, watching the action on the table. They seemed to be playing poker.

Of the game’s seated men, three looked as if they were peacefully enjoying the mood, but the fourth wore an oddly tense expression.

Trembling slightly, the man spoke.

“Uh…um… This, uh, this is rare, Boss… All three of you playing poker, together…”

Jorgi, who was responsible for managing some of the syndicate’s money, had spoken as if gauging the mood of the three brothers who sat at the table with him.

“………”

Across from him to the left, Keith Gandor—the oldest of the three Gandor brothers, the syndicate’s bosses—said nothing. Jorgi had been part of the outfit for five years, but he’d never seen this man open his mouth.

“Shaddup, Jorgi! When you’re playing poker, you yak
silently
!”

The one sitting directly across from him and saying impossible things was the second oldest, Berga Gandor. Although he was the middle brother, he had the sturdiest build of the three, and he was twice as big as his older brother, Keith. He also had a short fuse that was lit often.

“Calm down, Berga… They say yelling chases your luck away. I’m sorry about that, Jorgi.”

The calm fellow on his right was Luck Gandor, the youngest. Although he was only twenty or so, he handled a number of important duties due to his natural foresight and social skills.

For this country, Luck was a strange man: He always wore a faint smile, and he spoke politely to anyone who was older than he was, even if they were his subordinate. However, Jorgi knew: The only part of his face that was really smiling was his lips, and there was always a hard-boiled light in his eyes.

“Uh… No… Thank you…”

Frog in his throat, Jorgi silently arranged his cards.

He was afraid something terrible might happen later if he was
foolish enough to win in company like this. Pragmatically, he decided to keep playing with a garbage hand.

“Oh, hey! I just thought of something good!”

When all the players had finished adjusting their hands, Berga, who’d said to yak silently, yelled.

“Why don’t we have the guy who ends up last do
this
, on top of paying the money?!”

He casually pulled out a black lump and tossed it onto the table.

It was a revolver.

His older and younger brothers just gazed at their own hands silently.

“Uh…um…Mr. Berga?”

“You know! Russian Roulette!”

Jorgi felt his vision darken slightly.

“Um… You, uh… You’re kidding, right? …Somebody’s gonna die…”

“No worries! You won’t die if you don’t get lucky!”

“That’s crazy…”

He looked at Luck, hoping for help, but Luck was still gazing at his cards. He didn’t respond.

“All right… We’re all gonna show our cards at once.”

The intensity of Jorgi’s trembling doubled. If he showed his cards now, there was no doubt that he’d end up putting that muzzle to his temple.

He’d have to switch a few out. Jorgi was pretty confident in his cheating abilities. He had a few cards up his sleeve, just in case. If he used those, at the very least he’d manage three of a kind.

He was uncomfortable cheating his own family’s bosses, but it was far better than being forced into a game of Russian Roulette.

Jorgi looked up, intending to watch his opponents for openings…and instantly froze.

Eyes.

A dozen or so pairs of eyes were focused coldly on Jorgi’s hand.

Keith, Berga, Luck, the onlookers who stood around the table, even the guys who hadn’t been anywhere near the poker table until that point: Everyone had stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Jorgi.

Since absolutely everyone had frozen, silence very nearly ruled the basement. The only thing that opposed it was the faint jazz music that came through the ceiling. However, its lukewarm volume only heightened Jorgi’s fear.

His terror was so great he couldn’t even tremble. The passage of time seemed to have gone whacky, too. Somehow managing to hang on to his will through what felt like impending insanity, he squeezed the words out.

“……Wha…? Ah… No… Wh… Wh-wha…wha…wh-what’s the matter with…all of you…? Is there s-s-s-s-something st-st-st-st-stuck to m-m-m-m-my h-h-h-h-h-hand?”

It was as if the repressed physical trembling was being released from his body through his voice. Watching this absurd version of Jorgi, Berga answered—unusually—in a calm tone:

“…Hmm? Nah… They’re just watching to make sure you don’t cheat. Don’t worry about it.”

Jorgi’s heart very nearly stopped.

It couldn’t be—They couldn’t possibly—Did they know? No, they couldn’t, it couldn’t be that.

Desperately, he tried to look calm. If he panicked now, they might suspect even the things they hadn’t noticed yet.

“Ha…ha-ha… C’mon, Mr. Berga… Me, cheat? I’d never… Right, Mr. Luck?”

“Oh, if it was just cheating, I think you’d manage quite easily.”

Luck’s lips curved as he spoke. As usual, his eyes weren’t smiling.

“You’ve been embezzling the syndicate’s money for two years now, after all.”

This time, Jorgi found himself completely unable to move.

They knew. They knew. They knew-knew-knew it-knew it-k-k-k-kill, they’ll kill me, they’ll kill

He tried to say something, but his jaw only flapped up and down, and he couldn’t even breathe the way he wanted to. Only the amount of sweat down his back accurately showed his terror.

“Did you think we had knotholes for eyes? Well, no, we didn’t notice for two whole years, so that may be an accurate assessment…”

As he looked down at Jorgi, whose lips were quivering violently, Luck spoke dispassionately.

“…We heard that a drug addict had been wandering around this area recently, you see… We were concerned that someone from our family might be involved, so we looked into it a bit.”

If small outfits like the Gandor or Martillo Families got into the drug trade, it could turn the surrounding syndicates against them unnecessarily. Of course, the fact that they didn’t deal in drugs also helped project a clean image to the people who paid them protection money.

“…However, in the process, we noticed something completely unrelated. Jorgi… Your books… The flow of money is too regular. It’s unnatural. So you see, we took those books and asked around a bit, and… You know the rest, don’t you, Jorgi? You’re a smart guy…”

Jorgi wasn’t listening anymore. His hollow gaze wandered through space.

“…As it turns out, that addict was caught by the police this morning, and we learned he had nothing to do with our territory, but… Are you listening, Jorgi?”

Jorgi’s ears couldn’t hear a thing. The sweat that poured off him showed his state of mind, just as it was.

Deciding that saying more would be a waste of time, Luck laid his cards on the table.

“Aces, five of a kind.”

Then Berga slapped his cards down.

“Arrrgh! I lost, I lose! Five kings!”

Finally, Keith quietly showed his cards.

“…………………”

Five jokers, all in a row.

“You take everything, huh, Keith?”

“I’m no match for you, Keith.”

In response to this supremely bald-faced cheating, the men around the table cackled with laughter. The only one not laughing was Jorgi.

There were seven jokers on the table. Jorgi felt as if the Deaths drawn on them were watching him and smirking.

Then, when the men’s laughter had died down, Luck spoke quietly.

“Hurry and show us yours, Jorgi.”

As if prompted by Luck’s words, Jorgi’s cards slipped from his motionless hand, fluttering to the table. Two landed facedown; Luck turned them over. …Once all five were visible, it was obvious to everyone that the hand was garbage.

“Okay… Remember that rule I just told you about, Jorgi? Do ya?”

Berga tossed the revolver that had been in the center of the table so that it landed in front of Jorgi. The bullets… There were six. Every chamber was full.

“All right: Russian Roulette. This version is no-fail, every shot a winner. Make it a good one.”

Now that it looked as if he really might die, Jorgi was terribly calm.

Why do I have to die? The money would have gone to guys who were all brawn and no brain; all I did was use it for them. If you think about it that way, I’ve done quite a lot for the world. And now I’m going to get the kiss-off from these guys…? Idiots who don’t even know how to make money? I won’t stand for it. There has to be a way out of this alive.

What surfaced in his mind was not regret or repentance, but hatred for the fate he’d earned for himself.

He looked at the revolver in front of him. Then he looked at the people who stood around him. None of them had a hand on their own gun or knife.

There, you see? That’s what makes these guys idiots.

Slowly, Jorgi picked up the revolver, brought it to his temple, and

“
!”

Suddenly, he thrust the gun out in front of him and squeezed the trigger. Straight at the three brothers, his own bosses, across from him.

He pulled the trigger once…twice…three times, four, five, six……

Click

Click Click

Click-click-click

No fire erupted.

All that echoed through the quiet basement was the metallic sound of the hammer striking. It blended with the jazz that filtered down from the floor above, creating an odd ensemble that lingered in Jorgi’s ears.

“…That’s very unfortunate, Jorgi.”

Luck spoke sadly. Unusually for him, his eyes really did appear sad.

“Take a good look… Those’re all blanks.”

Berga spoke dispassionately, his face expressionless.

Jorgi was stunned; he had no idea what had happened. Luck handed down the verdict:

“…Listen, Jorgi. The three of us were grateful for all the work you’d done for us. We talked it over and came to a decision. If you steeled yourself and pulled the trigger yourself, we’d let you leave the group without a word. If you cried and begged for your life, we’d beat you half to death and let you leave. If you denied everything to the end, we’d cut your tongue out and let you leave. And…you chose the very worst outcome. I can’t tell you how unhappy I am about that.”

At that point, Luck shook his head and said nothing more.

This time, Jorgi really did despair and regret what he’d done. If he’d at least begged for his life…

Even now, it might not be too late. Just as he opened his mouth to speak