Lucky Dog 1 translations 09 Ivan route 04

Part 3: Daivan

Chapter 9

Judgment

I swing the car by to the café where I’d met up with Ivan and give a call to the hotel.

…Bernardo’s already back at the hotel.

     

After Ivan and I call in about what happened…

…they let us get back to the hotel, but they don’t let us take the elevator up to our room.  No, instead we stand stock-still in a corner of the lounge, waiting.

What for?  …That’s right, for our punishment.

The fatty that Ivan’d … that we’d killed…

Not only was he the rich owner of several automobile factories that stand in the Daivan suburbs, he was from an old Italian family.  …And of course, he’d known a lot of people in the CR:5 as well.

We’re confined to a small corner of the lounge like criminals who’d just been pinched.  Bernardo’s and the Consigliere’s men stand guard around us.

Then, Bernardo appears, his men following.

Gian: Bernardo…

Bernardo: …Please, sit.  The men are watching.

Bernardo gestures with his hand and tells us – no, orders us – in a low voice.

Ivan: Like I’m gonna run.

Gian: Just take a damn seat…

Bernardo settles himself into the sofa opposite the one Ivan and I sit in.  Behind him, his men in black shuffle into a neat row…

Janitor: …Mm…

…There’s one person among them that I don’t recognize.

Bernardo: We’ve taken care of the scene.  …How to put this…  It looks something horrible had taken place.

Gian: …Sorry.  It just … happened.

Bernardo: To discuss the situation, the captains and the Board are holding an emergency council meeting.

Ivan: I’m the one who did it.  This idiot didn’t do anything.  All he did was stand there and shake like a stick.

Gian: I was the one the Consigliere had trusted me to keep an eye on him, and yet…

Bernardo puts up both hands and shuts us up.

Bernardo: Leave that for the council meeting.  Saying this to me does you about as much good as praying to a cross.

Bernardo calls over a bellboy standing way far away to bring us coffee.  …Shit, I can’t taste or smell anything…  I can’t even feel if it’s warm…

…Huh, I really am shaking…  I can see the tiny movements of Bernardo’s eyes as they follow me from behind his glasses.

Bernardo: Ah, that’s right.  This would be your first time meeting him, Gian.  This is our janitor, Ragtliffe.

Ragtliffe: Heellooo.

When Bernardo says his name, the man, still standing, gives a small nod in greeting.  …I see, so this is our cleaner, the guy in charge of disposing the bodies…

…He looks like a real strange one.  It’s not even that cold, but he’s covered in a thick coat.  His head’s hidden deep inside the hood.

The eyes behind his round glasses look kinda like a kid’s.  If he hadn’t said anything, there’s no way I would’ve guessed that the grinning face belonged to someone who works as tough a job as the cleaners.

Gian: Giancarlo.  Sorry … for making such a mess for you.

Ivan: What’d you do with the fatsos?

Ragtliffe: I gathered everyone and placed them in a car.  The car then had an accident and went up in flames.  The bodies were burned solid black, so their cause of death would be the fire … or that’s what the story behind this disposal is.

…So this is what the cleaners do…  …That’s probably enough to pull a wool over the cops and the respectables’ eyes.

But…

…the fact that we’d killed them has already spread through all of the CR:5.  They might even pull an old-family specialty, a vendetta on us…

Gian: That so…  Thanks.  Good job.

Ragtliffe: It was my pleasure.

Ivan: What about … the girls on the bed?

Ragtliffe: Those were disposed of as corpses.  They were given to a church that is managed by the family.  By tonight, all of the girls will be sleeping in the cemetery.

…The janitor reports this in a cheerful tone that somehow makes it sound like he’s just ticking off items in a bill after a bout at a bar.

Gian: Just taking a shot here … but if we’re sentenced to death by the Board … you’ll be taking care of us then?

Ragtliffe: That would indeed be the case.  It is most unfortunate that I must say, the two of you would not be placed in graves.

The guy says this with an expression of finality.  Bernardo takes a drink of his coffee before heaving a deep sigh.

Bernardo: We’re making our best effort so this doesn’t happen, but … several of the Board members have blood boiling in their brains.  Please try to be on your best behaviors during the meeting?

Ivan: Tsk … friends of that fatass?

I sigh…  …Shit, the cleaner guy’s looking more and more like the reaper by the second.

Gian: …Hey.  That’s a strange name you have there.  Isn’t it usually Radcliffe?  Is your name some kind of anagram or code?

Ragtliffe: Oh, you mean me?  Haha, you’re quite right.  This name was given to me when I was born by my drunk father, who’d mistakenly used this name instead of Radcliffe.

Gian: What a carefree dad.

Ragtliffe: And then, after my father had woken from his drunken stupor, he grew very spirited and recorded the still-incorrect name down in the city hall.  So, please, call me Janitor Rag.

…He’s serious…?  No, wait, he wasn’t just pulling my leg?

Gian: Just for future reference … once we go and kick the bucket, how’ll our bodies get disposed?

Ragtliffe: Hmm.  I truly don’t think it is something you would want to hear about.

Gian: Well, just hypothetically.

Ragtliffe:  …All right.  Let’s see, I manage a pig farm.  Did you know?  Pigs are omnivores.

     

Gian: …Shouldn’ta asked.

That was when one of Bernardo’s men approached us.

Bernardo: …More than the minimum number of directors have gathered.  The two of you, come with me.  You’ll have to appear before them.

Ivan and I walk forward, surrounded by a layer of Bernardo’s guys, and then outside that, another layer by Ivan’s.  When I turn and look…

     

…only the janitor is left at the now deserted table.  I see him plop himself onto the sofa.  He rocks his body a little, enjoying its fluffiness…

…before dribbling sugar and milk by the glob into his coffee.

     

Inside, it’s just as though we’d walked into a trade fair, what with everyone in their nice tailored suits.  Each and every single one of them, from the fancy dancy middle-aged men to the guys in the prime of their life.  …There’s all sorts and kinds on the CR:5 Board.

Unfortunately, I don’t see a single face I know.  No … there’s just one.  The Consigliere, Grampa Cavalli.  …He looks like he’s aged since this morning.

Cavalli: …You fool…!  …Giancarlo, how could you have allowed this blunder to happen, even after I told you to stay with him…!  To think he’d kill a respectable gentleman—

Ivan: Wha?  You call him respectable?!

Ivan’s about to open his big mouth, so I send my foot flying.  Then, like they were waiting for us to pipe down…

Member 1: Dirty, filthy murderers!!

Member 2: They cannot be handed over to the police.  They’re a shame to the Toscanini name!  No, a shame to La Cosa Nostra…!

Member 3: On top of that, forcing us to rely on the cleaner to dispose of the bodies.  Do you mean to have us take responsibility should the Gantz family find out…?

…They’re even saying ‘Toscanini’ instead of ‘CR:5’ at this the meeting…  So this is how they get when Boss Alessandro’s not around.

Member 1: This is why I was against someone of mixed blood from becoming a capo!  He doesn’t even know the pride of La Cosa Nostra!

Bernardo: Please wait.  …The Boss has forbidden that topic from being brought up—

Member 1: And that Boss is absent at the moment, is he not?!  …Whatever happened to the Toscanini honor and its traditions…!

…Fuck if I know.  More to the point, those existed in the first place?

Member 2: How will you deal with the city police?

Bernardo: They don’t even know of this incident’s existence.  …We were lucky that we were notified without the police noticing.  It would’ve been luckier had it not happened at all, though…

Bernardo, very much aware of where he is at the moment, mutters this last bit.

Member 1: Either way!!  We must punish this murderer!!

The members of the Commission all start crowing together. …Fuck, these assholes…  They’re shitting out their noses and doing everything they can to drag Ivan down just ‘cause he’s not fully Italian…

Luchino: …

Giulio’s Giulio, but even Luchino’s just crossing his arms and sitting there.  When I see this, my irritation skyrockets with a kaching!

Member 3: That aside, there is even proof that Ivan Fiore, of all things, has established secret communications with an executive from the GD!  He’s a filthy traitor!

Member 3: Can you dispute this, capo Fiore?!

Ivan keeps quiet, frown still painted on his face.

Member 2: True or not, this is a complete disgrace to all that Toscanini embodies.  …We have no choice but to deal with this internally.  In order to make sure that this never happens again, the organization must—

Member 1: There are new candidates for captains, correct?  There are several people I would like to recommend…

Cavalli: …This is not the time nor place to talk about this subject.  We have yet to determine the course of action to take with regards to capo Fiore.

Member 1: Do you mean to leave him unpunished after having seen him kill innocent people, Consigliere?!

…And that was when I reached my limit.

Gian: Hold your horses, Mr. Hasty.

Member 1: Wh-What’d you…?!

Cavalli: F-Fool!  Be quiet…!!

Gian: The Potbelly.  You say his name’s Gantz?  So you’re all saying you know and have seen just what that Potbelly Gantz was doing there, huh?

Member 3: You’re crossing the line!  How dare you soil signor Gantz’s honor by using such a base epithet?!  As his closest friend, I won’t forgive you!

Gian: Ah, is that so?  You’re right.  ‘Potbelly’ isn’t quite right.  This is an issue about his eating habits and self-control after all.  How ‘bout this then…  Porco schifoso’sgood, doncha think?

As I spit this out, the Board starts stirring up a murmur … and Gramps and Bernardo hide their faces in their hands.

Gian: What’d you say about what the fucking pig did?  That it was out of pride?  Tradition?  What’s this, a Japanese comedy?

Gian: He was a fucking monster of a pig!  He … nailed the windows shut in a straight’s house!  Just so they couldn’t get away!  Just so he could beat the shit out of the kid inside!  Did you know that?!

Gian: And what’d you say that was?  Huh?  Pride? Tradition?

Gian: Next time you’re in front of a mirror, I suggest you all crack your skulls open and see if any you’ve got any maggots setting up condos in there!!  …If the Boss were here, he’d kill himself out of fucking pity.

Member 1: Y-You brat…!

Member 3: Wh-Why you…!  You’re just pushing the blame onto Mr. Gantz so you won’t be punished because you were negligent in your supervision…

Gian: If Ivan hadn’t whacked him, I’d have done it!!  If you’re gonna say that’s wrong, then suit yourself.  I’d rather be dead before I have to apologize to that fucking pig.

Gian: That is all.

Again, all the members start stirring.

Quickly, I take a glance beside me … and meet Ivan’s eyes.

Ivan: …I-Idiot.

Ivan says this as he turns his face the other way, like he’s embarrassed.

Gian: Don’t call me an idiot, you idiot.

…The situation’s pretty shitty.  The majority of the members want us, and especially Ivan, out of our positions and, if things go really screwy, straight towards an execution.

Of course, the votes and opinions of the captains and the Consigliere have quite a bit of weight, but…  Out of the captains, the two of us are being accused, so we can’t vote.  Plus, Luchino and the others don’t look like they’re about to help anytime soon.

…Are we done for…?

Honor.  Revenge.  Death.  Blood.  These ominous words fly back and forth as Bernardo and Gramps discuss something in low voices.

     

Giulio’s also restless…  He keeps shifting his feet about, shuffling them back and forth like he’s preparing to dash to my side should anything happen.

And…

…Shit, Luchino, you fucking bastard…!  He’s just sitting there with his arms crossed, not moving a muscle.

That’s when…

A man appears in a corner of the conference room, nodding and bowing all the while.  The guards hadn’t stopped him, so he’s someone related to this, maybe?  The man with the drab suit and glasses…

…walks up to stand behind Luchino, nodding and bowing.  And then, he hands Luchino countless big, fat envelopes.  Luchino gives him some order and he disappears, nodding and bowing.

Gian: …Huh…?

Luchino’s still sitting.  He reaches into the envelope and pulls out the … paper? … inside and skims over its contents.

Luchino: All direttores, please?

At his signal, his men come running, and they deal the envelopes they’d been given to each of the Board directors.  They take out the paper(?) and, with no little murmuring and muttering…

Member 1: What…?!

Member 2: My God…!

For a second, silence fills the room, quiet like God himself’d decided to drop in for a moment…  A different sort of muttering swells up from the members.

Luchino slowly stands from his seat.  With the paper(?) still in his hand, he walks slowly through the conference room, like a star actor late to his stage.

Luchino: What you have before you … are the bodies of the women Mr. Gantz tried to have disposed of using our disposal crew.

Ivan:…Huh?!

Gian: Eh?

Luchino: Why do you believe Mr. Gantz called us and not the police?  And what do you suppose are these ghastly traces of brutality left upon their bodies?

Luchino: Capo Fiore and capo del Monte would be willing to provide an explanation should you wish.

Several breaths later … and I finally get what’s going on.  Luchino comes up to me and says…

Luchino: I was in cold sweat about whether the photographs would develop in time.

Gian: L-Luchino?

Luchino: It came to me in a flash when Bernardo told me what happened.  I borrowed a cameraman from a studio I’m friends with and had him head over to the church where the cleaner had left them.

Luchino leaves the paper he’d been holding in my hand.  It’s … a photo of the girls’ bodies…

Luchino: I’m not a fan of photographs depicting ladies like this, but … was it useful?

…The bastard.  He’s winking!

Fuck, you’re the best.  …Sorry about earlier, for thinking that you were the worst thing on the world!

Cavalli: …Capo Fiore, please give us the explanation.

At Gramps’ words, Ivan cracks his neck with a crick that echoes through the room and stands from his seat.

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