“Although I think you’re more likely to get dragged into some other fight and killed…”
MeanwhileSomewhere in New York Fred’s clinic
“No, no, no, c’mon… Are you kidding me with this?” The bespectacled man was grinding his teeth.
Firo shrugged. “What’s the matter? Your two-bit goon face is looking even cheaper than usual. You ain’t scared, are ya?”
“What is wrong with you?! You— This is— What the fuck is wrong with you?! What am I supposed to do about this?!” the man—Victor Talbot—howled angrily. He was staring at the enormous grizzly that was snoozing peacefully in the clinic’s reception corner, with several blankets draped over it.
Isaac and Miria were leaning against the bear’s side, fast asleep. Fred, the clinic’s owner, and a pale-faced Who were standing a short distance away, keeping an eye on them.
“For goodness’ sake… Animals aren’t exactly hygienic. We’ll have to sweep up the hair later.”
“D-Doc, now’s not the time to be saying that! Are you okay with this?!”
“I’d be quieter, if I were you. Relax. If this bear genuinely wants to kill us, one swipe of its claws would be enough to knock off our heads. We’d likely be dead before we had time to feel any pain.”
“How the hell’s that supposed to help me relax?!”
Fred had hung out the CLOSED TODAY sign. At the moment, only a handful of people were inside the clinic: Firo and several Division of Investigation men, the head of the clinic and his assistant Who, plus Isaac and Miria.
If the surrounding residents found out about the bear, they’d have a panic on their hands. Victor’s men had made up a likely sounding reason and cleared the area so that no one would notice it.
“First you call my department out of nowhere, then you tell me to find the owner of this huge goddamn grizzly?! What the hell, Firo Prochainezo?!”
“What was I supposed to do? You’re the only ones I know who might be able to get this sorted out. Oh, and I think it’s used to people, so if you shoot it or poison it or something, the owner’s probably gonna come after ya.”
“Thanks for that extra headache! Aha—I see your game! You’re planning to yank us around with this shit, then charge into the Runorata Family with a bomb under your jacket while we’re distracted.”
“Don’t say that.” Firo gave a little sigh, then went on indifferently. “That’s a last resort.”
“…”
Not only was it a very real possibility, it was a tactic an immortal could use as many times as he wanted.
Victor had taken an attack from something very similar to a suicide bomber before, and he gave Firo a sour-faced glare. “So? Is this your revenge for Alcatraz?”
“No, only half of it was to ruin your day.”
“You little— What about the other half?”
“Is Edward doing okay?” Firo asked, giving the name of a policeman he’d always been on bad terms with. The guy had joined the Division of Investigation, and apparently, Melvi Dormentaire had attacked him just because he knew Firo.
“You do get whose fault it is that he got hurt, right?”
“Just ‘hurt’? So it’s not too bad, then. That’s one consolation, I guess.”
“…Huh. Trying to win some points by acting worried?”
“I am worried. He’s the only one who could actually arrest you once you turn dirty.” After that offhand response, Firo narrowed his eyes. “That’s about half of the second half of the reason I called you. The rest of it is an easy question—are you friendly with the House of Dormentaire?”
“Did Maiza tell you that? …Well, I knew ’em a long time ago. I doubt any of them are still alive.”
At the name “Dormentaire,” Victor tipped his head back, reminiscing. Then, as if something had occurred to him, he shot Firo a hard glare. “Hold it. You don’t need Maiza to tell you this stuff. You’ve got that old bastard Szilard’s memories. Wouldn’t it be faster to just haul those out?”
“What I want to know about is what they’re up to now. The last few years.”
“And you want the Division of Investigation to be your errand boys?”
“I’m not lookin’ for an alliance. I’m asking you…as an immortal. That’s all.”
Victor grimaced. Then his face went blank. “Those people should have come way down in the world. But they took the fortune they’d accrued through maritime trade and spread it all over the world. They’ve got tons and tons of resources squirrelled away. It was a tax evasion scheme to end all tax evasion schemes, conducted over a century or two.”
“Yeah, there were several big money streams between them and Szilard. It looks like they were buying rare materials to create a homunculus.”
“…”
Firo’s expression didn’t change, but Victor didn’t miss the surge of emotion in his eyes as he said the word homunculus.
This was an opportunity to put Firo in his debt, and Victor planned to capitalize on it. “This isn’t confirmed, but we can guess where Ennis is.”
“…Out on the ocean?”
“Wha—?”
Firo said the answer before he could get to it, and Victor’s mouth dropped open.
“We’re not dumb. We can pull in decent information and draw conclusions. If it was confirmed, you’d be sitting on a scoop even the Daily Days doesn’t have yet.”
“You’re a little shit, you know that?”
And? How are you going to save her? Victor considered asking the question aloud, but he kept his mouth shut for two reasons.
The first was that he had a hunch he wouldn’t get a solid answer.
The second was that one of his men called to him just then. “Uh… Assistant Director? Got a minute?”
“What’s up?” He turned to Bill Sullivan.
The man scratched at his cheek. From his face, this was obviously nothing good.
“I recognize that bear,” Bill said.
“You what?” Firo looked up, too.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Well, this fella here is, uh… He’s a grizzly that lives at Bartolo Runorata’s mansion. I hear his grandkid Carzelio is taking care of him.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Then fate began to turn again—completely ignoring the wills of the immortals and the underworld syndicates, set in motion by an encounter between two different species.