Lucky Dog 1 translations 08 Bernardo route 01 best
Part 3: Daivan
Chapter 8 Best
Without any real reason, my eyes blink open on their own.
…It feels nice. This is how it feels to wake up from a perfect, deep sleep.
The sunbeams beyond the closed curtains are gentle and warm. They illuminate the center of the wide room against the dimness.
Bernardo’s already gone from his bed.
Suddenly, I realize that … I don’t know when he brought them in, but the hanger’s got a whole bunch of Bernardo’s suits hanging off it.
|Gian: …What a meticulous guy.|
I throw back the curtains, sterilizing my eyeballs and the room.
I wash my face and my hair in the bathroom. Brush my teeth… Shave my scruff— … Oh, whatever…
…I’m starving. Room service… I reach towards the phone … but I stop.
|Gian: I’m starving…|
I shrug on the clothes I’d tossed off and leave the room.
In the room…
…like it’s condensed physically into a part of the air, phones upon phones ring, overlapping with each other and echoing. The inside of my nose stings with the odor of wires getting heated by electricity.
Bernardo: …It’s me. The situation? Understood. Stay on standby at the store.
Bernardo: …How is it? I see. I’ll send reinforcements immediately. You may abandon your station at the public phone.
…Bernardo immediately responds to the myriad of bells. He picks up the receiver, in a breath’s time he lends his ear to the report from the other side and then promptly shoots off concise orders.
He puts the receiver back. Noticing me, Bernardo waggles his fingers a bit in greeting, but right after another bell started ringing.
Bernardo: …I understand. Good work. Stay where you are, and if the city police come, let them take you in. I’ll send a lawyer immediately, so don’t worry.
I try to stay out of the way as much as possible… I sidle across the room, hop carefully over the wire jungle rapids to avoid stepping on any…
Whoa! Almost stepped on a wire there. That was close.
|Bernardo: …Head to Champs-Élysées Lane. Yes, take all the troops there. Once you’re finished, contact me.|
Bernardo: Phew… Good morning, Honey.
|Gian: Hi there, Darling. …Should I’ve come back later?|
Bernardo: No, I was waiting for you. Actually, I was hoping you’d help me with something here.
|Bernardo: Yeah. First, call the room service up for breakfast. You can use the phone over there.|
As I order through the phone, I glance around the room… I see two men inside who’re turned towards some documents.
Bernardo’s Subordinate A: …Captain, I’ve finished this ledger. Shall I store it in the usual place?
Bernardo’s Subordinate B: This one is finished as well. …Next are the documents on the Daivan Port labor union…
The two men report to Bernardo. …Somehow, it’s like they’re working at desk jobs or something else just as dense…
|Bernardo: Good work. You two, after you’ve finished with that, you can finish for the day. Please return to your usual standby duties.|
Bernardo’s Subordinate A: Understood.
The men in their chic suits, looking like they’d gotten fixed up at the barber’s first thing in the morning, bundle up the enormous book and stuff it into their bags before heading out.
|Gian: The paperwork looks really awful. …Man, taxes and stuff, right? Capone was also snapped up from tax evasion, right?|
|Bernardo: Yeah. When I’d first heard of Capone’s arrest, I thought, ‘Ah, finally someone has found a way to adapt the antitrust laws to counter the Mafia.’|
|Gian: Hm? ‘Antitrust laws?’ What’s that?|
Bernardo: The Anti-Monopoly Act.
Bernardo: In addition, we are gangsters. Unlike legitimate businesses, there is no way we can report all of our earnings… It’d be a catastrophe if something happens.
During this, the phones on the desk keep ringing. Bernardo listens to the brief reports, fires off one brief order after another, and continues to take care of the calls.
During all this, the room service arrives. A light bread for breakfast, some hotcakes, some ham so thin you can see straight through it, and a salad.
I randomly pile some onto a small plate and pour a cup of the coffee that’d come with the meal.
|Gian: How much sugar and milk?|
Bernardo waggles a finger – “No” – at my question. I take up the breakfast … and do the same strange jig back over the phone wires.
Bernardo: Thank you. Oh, and also … it’s all right if you step on the wires.
|Gian: Eh? No way. They’d zap me black and crispy.|
For a second, Bernardo gapes at me with a flabbergasted look.
|Bernardo: Hahaha, you’ll be all right if you step on these wires. It’s not one of those wires for transmitting electricity you see on the telephone poles.|
|Gian: Ehh?? I can’t tell what the difference is, so I’m gonna stay on the cautious side.|
|Bernardo: Perhaps … that is the smart thing to do?|
|Gian: Here. Cake. Which plate would you prefer? The right is sloshed full of butter. The left’s got a mountain of cream.|
|Bernardo: I’ll take the right. The cream will pile up in my stomach…|
|Gian: I should’ve switched hands before coming.|
The two of us chow down on breakfast at that table filled with phone sets. Even then sometimes the phone would ring and Bernardo’d take his hand and mouth over to the set.
Bernardo: That was good. Can I have another cup? Just coffee.
|Gian: …Huh? You’re already done? You’ve always been this way but … man, you eat like a bird.|
Bernardo: When you get older, it travels here faster…
Bernardo laughingly points to the area around his belt. …Just what is this stick of a man saying? …No, I guess it’s because he doesn’t eat that it gets that way?
|Bernardo: It’s the same with alcohol and tobacco… So long as I have just a little of the high quality stuff, I’ll be happy.|
It’s not something I can relate to when I’m the one who’d take even a bottle of high quality whisky or brandy and uncaringly glug it all down.
Bernardo: Now then… I suppose I’ll have you earn your keep here.
Bernardo pushes a few phones towards me and hands me a folder with a memo pad and pencil inside. …Instantly, one of the phones rings.
|Gian: Ah! …What do I do?|
|Bernardo: If these phones ring, pick it up. If you tell them it’s HQ, they’ll give their report. Take notes of what they say here, and show me later.|
|Gian: What if they’re looking for orders?|
|Bernardo: Hang up. I’ll call them back immediately. Now … come on, hurry.|
|Gian: A-All right!|
|Gian: Hey, you’ve reached headquarters…|
Ivan’s Subordinate A: …Um. This is from the Rockfort Port fish market. There’s no commotion today.
|Gian: All righty. The snail’s on his thorn…?|
Ivan’s Subordinate A: God’s in his heaven. All’s right with the world…
I jot down where the contact’d called from and that nothing’s happened down there before showing it to Bernardo. He responds with a thumb’s up before returning to his phone.
|Bernardo: …I see. So you’ve found information on the strike. And, what do they want of us? …I see. They want us to get rid of all obstacles in their way of harmonious business.|
…Somehow, his calls feel different from the city reports he’d been getting earlier. He’s talking about businesses and strikes and labor unions now. …I wonder just what his business is?
…Oh! And I’m busy here, too…
|Gian: Hello there, temporary HQ command here! Bernardo can’t come to the line right now!|
Luchino’s Subordinate A: …Huh? Ahm … right. This is Avenue Five of West Heathtown. They were here, but … they escaped.
It’s another report from the streets of Daivan this time. This one’s from a residential area in the west suburbs, in the complete opposite direction of the ports.
|Gian: Goootcha! I’ll pass it along! Something goes south, make sure to phone in.|
Wow, this is pretty hectic. No wonder why Bernardo can’t do anything else. …Maybe I should’ve come by earlier.
Luchino’s Subordinate B: …Signore Ortolani. Captain told me to contact you…
Fluent Italian. Without seeing his face, I can tell it’s from one of Luchino’s men. Even after knowing who he’s really talking to, he still continues formally.
Luchino’s Subordinate B: …I have prepared a brand new account. It is one for legal use and can be used starting today. The bank is Daivan Gold. It is under the name…
…There’s a whole gamut of work to do. I take notes of the calls that come in one after another, jotting them down in a neat list on the memo pad.
Bernardo: …I see. You will be delivering the speech during the next assembly? Unfortunately, I won’t be able to hear you that day. It truly is a shame. …Yes, that’s right. The financier is all the same.
Bernardo: Strikes and assemblies are worker’s rights. …I see. I understand. We must make this succeed. In that case, is there anything I – anything we can do?
…Huh? This time he’s talking to a labor union representative? …Just a minute ago he was talking to a bigwig at a company….
….I guess this is one way to commercialize violence, huh…
Half fed-up, half impressed, I nod at him when one of the phones catches my eyes as it suddenly starts flashing on-off.
…A mini-lamp with a dial is lighting up…?
|Gian: Eh…? Bernardo, what’s…|
Still on the phone, Bernardo scratches out something on the memo pad on his desk.
“With phones whose bells sound similar, the wiring for the bells is connected to the lamps.”
|Gian: Hello, command center here.|
Ivan: …Mm? Eh? Whaaa?! Why the hell are you answering the phone?
…Damn, it’s Ivan.
|Gian: Bernardo’s super duper busy. I’m the one handling your and your fellas’ calls now.|
Ivan: The hell is that?! Fuck that shit!! Get four-eyes on the phone right now!
…Not a real surprise I feel irritation spark.
|Gian: I said, Bernardo’s on the phone right now. Or … what, you wanna interrupt Bernardo’s business negotiation and planning on compensating for whatever damages come up?|
Ivan: …Shit! Fine then. Pass the message on. I beat up the damn gnats swarming around Flower Street. All’s left is cleaning up Nugget Square.
|Gian: And where’s that?|
Ivan: The entertainment district on Oak Hill! Fuck, are you seriously one of Daivan’s hoodlums? …Jeez. Don’t pull that shit with me.
|Gian: Well, I’m sorry but jail was just too much fun.|
Ivan: …Also, I caught two dipshits with GD tattoos. Ask him what he wants me to do with ‘em.
|Gian: The coppers and crumbs didn’t spot you, right?|
Ivan: Think I’d pull a crap shot like that? Look me in the eye and say that.
|Gian: We’re over the phone. Wait a sec…|
I jot a note down with what Ivan’d told me and slide it over to Bernardo. The eyes behind the glasses slide to a narrow glare.
“Ask if they’re Italian.”
…I see. If they’re like those thugs that had attacked us at the hut that time… Is he keeping an eye out for more turncoats…?
|Gian: Ivan, the guys you captured… Other than the GD tattoo, is there anything else, like remnants of our symbol?|
Ivan: Naw, I stripped ‘em butt naked and rolled ‘em ‘round for a good look, but there’s nothing like that. Neither of ‘em are macaronis. They’re probably Polocks.
|Gian: What, they say ‘sorry’ in Polish or something?|
Ivan: ‘cause they’re both fucking huge. …Get it? No way they’re Italian, haha!
|Gian: You’re positively vulgar.|
I write down the general gist for Bernardo. Bernardo’s eyes take it in without moving, and with just a movement of his pen, decides the fate of those two men he’s never met.
“There’s no need for interrogation. Just sink them.”
|Gian: Hey, Ivan. Which d’you think’s hungrier, the crayfish in the river or the crabs in the ocean?|
Ivan: Like I’d know, stupid. …’K, got it. I’ll take care of ‘em when it’s dark.
I hear the violent clank of the line cutting off through the receiver.