Lucky Dog 1 translations 12 Bernardo route 02 best

Part 3: Daivan

Chapter 12 Best

The Network

     

Ringalingalingaling.

Gian: Wheagh?!

I give a pathetic yelp.  …It’s the phone.  I never thought they’d ever ring again, but…

…It’s noisy.  …From the sound, this is from one of the public phones.  …In order to get away from the noise, I get up to head back … to my … room…

…?!

Click.

On impulse, I dash towards the phone and pick it up.

Gian: Bernardo, ‘s that you?!

Unemployed 1: …Huh?  …Um, ‘scuse me…?

…It’s not.  I thought it might’ve been Bernardo calling.   I consider smashing the phone to bits when I hear,

Unemployed 1: …S’rry, ‘m callin’ in…  Y’know, as usual.  Um … got kinda drunk … yeah…  ‘m s’rry … fer bein’ late…

Gian: S-Sure…

Right … it’s one of the guys Bernardo’s got posted at the public phones around the city.  Even if their Lord’s not here, the phones are still working as before.

Gian: …Where were you stationed again?

Unemployed 1: Out b’hind the Hopt’n Station out west.  The guys up the oth’r streets said theirs’s quiet as a mouse today, too, yeah…

“Good work,” I say to the man before hanging up.  …It’s all too little, too late…

The contact network through the city and the information…  Load of use they’re going to be now…

Ba-thump.  Ba-thump.

Gian: …The phones’re working…  Hm?  …Shit…  Shit!  Think…  Think, Gian…!

     

Something…  Something brushes against my fingertips in the darkness.  If I could just grab a hold of it, maybe…

Think, Gian…!  Go through what you remember of Bernardo!  Your memories with him!  Conversations…!!  When he forced himself onto you.  When he kissed you.

When you ate together.  Drank together.  Slept in the same room together.  When you met up for the first time in a long time in the slammer.  Anything…!!

…Remember!!

     

     

…Bingo!!

The word echoes through my brain, and I remember when we were stuffed like sardines in those seats, the engine of that crimson red car as it zips off.  My mind freezes on that scene long ago.

Bernardo’ was driving.  Bernardo’d gotten attached to Alfa Romeos after that, and he bought up that very same car, and took me for a drive in it.

Bernardo’s disappeared…  That car, that Alfa Romeo also disappeared.  …Maybe…

If Bernardo didn’t high-tail it, if he’s still in Daivan … and if he’s caught…  Then where’s that obscenely conspicuous red car…?!

Gian: …Time to call!!

I sprint to Bernardo’s desk and dig through the drawers for his notepad.  …Found it!!

A list of the numbers of the public phones in Daivan under the CR:5’s control!!  The ultimate weapon Bernardo’s put together.

…Maybe this is our lucky break…?!

Click.

My hand whips the receiver to my face faster than my eyes can scan the list.  I dial up the first number I see.  I remember this number…

It’s in a district that’d been straddling our territory, constantly going back and forth, in and out of our control.  It’s the downtown district up north.  You could call it a slum.  The number’s for a live street phone there.

Across the line, a mechanical noise echoes.

Street Kid 1: Hello, this is Gian from the Piss Back Alley.

The kid who picks up the phone is a cheeky-sounding brat with the same name as me.

Gian: Good work.  …I’ve got a question for you.  People know your mug up in your turf?

Street Kid 1: Is Holy Mary virgin?  ‘course I am!  Else he wouldn’t ‘ve left the phone to me.  …You on the clock for Don Ortolani’s phones?

…He’s a real fucking cheeky piece of work.  But the desire to punch him in the face just adds more fuel to my fire.

Gian: Something like that.  I’ve got a favor to ask.  I need you to find something.

I look down at the Daivan map lying on the desk and search for the yellow circle marking the public phone before saying,

Gian: Do you know Bernardo … Don Ortolani’s car?  It’s a bright red Alfa sports car.

Street Kid 1: Does coal come in black?  How the hell could I not?  When I grow up, I’m gonna get me one of those and show it off.  That thing’s the best!

Gian: What I want you to look for … is that red sports car.  Find Don Ortolani’s car.

Street Kid 1: Why?!  …Did something happen to Don Ortolani?

…The punk sounds desperate.  Without Bernardo around, he’ll lose his gold hen … but…

…that’s not the only thing causing the distress underlying his voice.  I stop holding back.

Gian: …Don Ortolani’s gone missing.  He left the city in that car … and we’ve lost contact with him since.  There’s a situation here, so we can’t use the kids in our family.

Gian: Which is why … I’m counting on you guys.  You up to it?

Street Kid 1: …Got it.  I’ll send out my boys and tell ‘em to run their legs off if they’ve gotta.  I’ll call you … here’s fine, right?

Gian: Yeah.  I’m counting on you.

I take up a pencil and mark the map.  I turn the dial for another public phone in another block.

     

Cling.

Gian: …!  Siiiigh…

All the stifling hot air building up in my lungs billows out in one long sigh.  My hand and ears hurt.

…Either way, I got a hold of all those on phone duty all over Daivan and have them looking for that Alfa.

Even if the GD had captured Bernardo and finished him off … they wouldn’t destroy such a high class car as that…

That’s the slim chance I’m betting on.

Gian: …Bernardo…

Thump.

The scent of leather wafts up from where my back’s slouched against the chair and where my head’s resting.  The fragrance Bernardo’d left behind perfumes the air.  I shut my eyes tight.

…The odor of sweat.  The smell of his hair.  The perfume of his tobacco…

Ringalingaling.

…That’s it.

Gian: …Hey—

Before I can get any words out, the cheeky urchin from that Piss Back Alley heaves into the receiver, out of breath like he’d sprinted a marathon.

Street Kid 1: …Haa … haa!!  Haa…!!  Here!  It’s here!  We’ve got it…!!

In an instant, I catch the brat’s excitement.

Gian: Where?  What about Bernardo…?!

The kid takes a few deep breaths to calm his breathing … and then, so that no one around him can hear, he starts talking in a perfectly quiet voice.  …He’s not bad.

Street Kid 1: …No question ‘bout it, it’s the Don’s Alfa.  Red as a tomato.  The number’s the same, too.  Checked it myself…

Gian: …Nice!  …Where is it?

Street Kid 1: …It’s stowed inside a warehouse in South Bronx.

…Bronx?  For a second, I despair – the only image coming to mind being the red-light slums of New York … but, no.  I shake my head.

There’s a district called the Bronx here in Daivan, too.  Thanks to the Great Depression, the city’s redevelopment project fell apart, and now it’s a nest for the unemployed and illegal immigrants.  It’s economically the worst part of the city.

People joked, ‘Guess we’re following right in our namesakes’ footsteps now?’ when they talk about the Daivan Bronx.

That’s where Bernardo’s car is…  Maybe … Bernardo’s also there…?

Gian: Was there someone nearby?  A gang hangout or something?!  Could you tell?

Street Kid 1: One o’ my boys, this cat named Refry Huckster Rob, saw it.  …The car was parked on the streets at first…  Don Ortolani shelled some out to Rob and asked him to watch it.

Street Kid 1: Then … some hoodlums came and chased Rob off!  They took the car and hid it in that warehouse.

…Praise to our God who watches from above.  They underestimated them because they’re just kids.

I … actually know where Bernardo is now!

Gian: Good…!  People from the family’ll be heading there right now.  Stay by the phone…

Street Kid 1: …I think you’d better hurry.  Come morning, the thugs might get a move on.

I hang up … and fall into thought, using up some of that precious time.  …What to do…?  I know where he is now, but…

Tell Luchino or Ivan and charge?  …No…  Even … if they haven’t turned on us…

If they’ve got rats mixed in with their crew, the second they make a move, the vermin’ll know what we’re doing … and Bernardo’d be a goner, no question…

Gian: Stronzo…!

I stuff the bag Bernardo’d left behind back into its hiding place.  I take out just one bundle of bills.  The only other thing I bring with me … is that antique revolver.

I stick it through my belt up front…

     

     

To tell the truth, I’m shaking so bad I just wanna curl up on the floor.

I’m heading out alone, straight into gang hideaway, to save Bernardo.  Just one person who can’t even kill right with a piece falling apart at the joints.

Gian: …This’ll probably be the end of me…

But I…  I chuck away the option of just running away from this room like this and burrowing into my bed and spending the rest of my life shaking like a leaf and head out.

…Bernardo’d left to settle things.  But…

Gian: Damn it…  Stupid, old…  Stupid, spoiled, selfish, useless old man.

I couldn’t see the letter as the farewell he’d intended.  I only see the regrets he’d left behind.

Just like that hand that he’d extended to me, but stopped halfway.

Gian: …Grr, I get it.  I get it…!

One of the perks of a big city like Daivan is the ability to find a taxi no matter the hour.  I rattle off my destination.

Gian: Daivan Bronx, South Street.

When he hears the word “Bronx,” the cabby swivels his head back with wide eyes and works up a “Get out!” in his throat.  There’s no taxi willing to head down that way.

But before he can work up the shout, I flash a ten-dollar bill in his face.

     

     

The cab drops me off right outside the Bronx.  From there, I race through the night towards the public phone that street kid Gian’s covering.

     

Street Kid 1: You’re … the guy from before, doing the calls for Don Ortolani?

Gian: Yeah.  You remember my voice, right?  …Where’s Bernardo’s car?

I follow behind the cheeky brat.  We pass by countless narrow alleyways before…

Street Kid 1: …There.  That’s the one, right…?

The kid asks in a whisper as he points towards the corner of one of the crumbling storehouses.  There in the darkness, shining bright red as though it was the only thing worthy of being struck by the morning sun, sits the car in question.

     

Gian: …Bingo!  No question ‘bout it…

Street Kid 1: The guys who brought in the car’s camped out in the room up over there.  They been drowning themselves in booze in there since a couple days back.

Gian: Huh?  Even before Bernardo got here?

Street Kid 1: You’ve ever seen a white fly?  I know ‘cause I had my boys sell ‘em chow ‘n booze a few times.  They got ‘bout ten people.

…Ten…  If they find me, it’s over.

Gian: Thanks.  You helped a bunch.  You should head out now.  Here…

I extract a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and flip it out in front of the boy … but though that amount could buy the damn world for him, when he sees it he says,

Street Kid 1: Hey, who d’you think I am?  I’m no charity case!

Gian: …My bad.

Street Kid 1: I’m gettin’ my share of kale from Don Ortolani for doin’ this job.  …But hey, more importantly, you plannin’ on takin’ on all them guys together alone?  You got a death wish or somethin’?

…Haha…  To think, I’d have a kid who hasn’t even lost all his baby teeth yet worry about my life at a time like this.

Gian: A lot’s been happening … so it’s all or nothing now.  I’m betting all my chips on … Lucky Dog’s good luck now.

Street Kid 1: Huh?!  You’re…  You’re the Lucky Dog Giancarlo?!

Gian: What, you know me?

Street Kid 1: Has Lucky Dog got Lady Luck on his side?  ‘course I do!  …Mm, huh.  So you’re Lucky Dog…

Envy, admiration, and that special brand of vicious, stubborn spirit cats like him have sparkle in his eyes like glittering jewels under the sun.

Gian: See ya later, kid.  You should get a leg on it, before you get dragged in.

For a second, it feels like the kid might follow after me … but after staring at me intently for a good long time, he takes off.

I…

     

…circle around out back behind what appears to be the apartment complex – or, used to be – that the thugs are using for their HQ.  …I creep in through the gaping, cavernous door…

     

I draw my piece…  With silent footsteps, I slowly, slowly advance.  My parched mouth and throat prickles with nervousness.

…Is Bernardo really in this place?

Then, voices reach my ear…

GD Soldier: …Haahahaha!

GD Soldier: Good’n there!  Throw it all on the table!

GD Soldier: Serves ya right!

GD Soldier: Hey, pass it here, too, ya fuckin’ dick!

Gian: …!

The sounds of angry shouting and jeering bellows muddled with horribly accented English echo from somewhere within the complex.

…Shit, the gangbangers really are still here…  I really want to run, but … I push down the urge.

The hell am I gonna accomplish by turning tail and running…?!

…The thugs’ voices are coming down from the second floor.  And … the door on the first floor is lying half-open.  It looks like they’re using it to throw out trash.

With cold sweat dripping down my back, I climb up the steps.  If the hoodlums up catch me in the hall, I’m screwed…

There are several doors shut closed down the hallway…

GD Soldier 1: Hahaa!  Take that!

GD Soldier 2: Aw you’ve gotta be shittin’ me, man!  That’s dirty!

GD Soldier 3: Fuck, there goes all my chips again!

…Sounds like they’re gambling in the room down over…  They’re also passing drinks around…  I feel some relief, but just a little.

…There’s no sounds of Bernardo being tortured…

I test out the doorknobs to the two doors on either side of the hall with a light touch.  …Both are locked…

…which means…

Which is it?  Which door … is hiding the right answer??

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