Ch.130Request Log #013 – Dealers’ Day (3)

The plan was definitely not supposed to go like this. The original plan was to sow discord between two unfriendly mafia groups, cause a conflict, and have the goblins take over in the aftermath.

Jacob had clearly heard the intentions of Mother Noll from the goblins who worked with her. He’d heard that the Mother, whose authority had been shaken after failing to deal with even a single journalist, wanted conflict.

When he first drafted this plan after hearing that, it seemed perfect. It was a plan significant enough to reunite the scattered goblin gangs. But within just a few days, that plan had completely fallen apart.

Something had clearly interfered. But what? He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t see it or hear it. He couldn’t even detect it.

There hadn’t been any secret agreement between Mother Noll and The Morrígan. Even if The Morrígan couldn’t be monitored, Mother Noll was being watched by the goblins working with her.

Those working with the Mother must have betrayed me. They must have told Mother Noll about my plan and ruined everything. Jacob Goldstein made the most realistic deduction he could.

Reality meant nothing. Those goblins had also stopped responding since yesterday. And he couldn’t contact the gambler Arnold either. Arnold was probably a traitor too.

He had received reports that Arnold was attacked at the gym. He heard that a contractor who came there had kidnapped Arnold and disappeared. If he had betrayed them under torture, perhaps something could be done to fix it.

Damn it. Jacob slammed his fist on the desk. There was nothing he could figure out. All he knew was that Mother Noll and The Morrígan had met at noon yesterday and shared a friendly meal.

Their good relationship meant Jacob’s life was in danger. The detective had departed from Little Eire. Just as Jacob was contemplating how to survive, there was a knock at the door.

He nervously raised his gun toward the door, but from outside came the voice of an orc. It was the voice of an orc he had hired.

“Mr. Goldstein, the barber is here. Shall I let him in?”

Nevertheless, Jacob kept his gun pointed at the door. He couldn’t tell who had betrayed him and to what extent. His neurotic voice burst out naturally.

“Do I look like I want a blade at my neck on a day like this? Such a fucking diligent bastard… Send him away!”

Jacob himself knew he was being rude to someone who had thought of him even on a day like this, rather than having escaped a deadly crisis, but knowing this didn’t make it any easier to refuse.

He couldn’t hide in a safe house. The goblins who had betrayed the organization and joined Mother Noll had originally been in charge of security. They would know all the addresses of the safe houses.

That’s why Jacob had locked himself in his house. This mansion, surrounded by high iron fences, was practically a fortress. A proper assassin would wait for him to leave the mansion, so he simply wouldn’t leave.

He believed no one could break in and kill him. The detective turned the first corner. It wasn’t just belief; it could be considered fact.

He had at least ten orc bodyguards. Not only were they guarding the main gate, but they were also patrolling in pairs, and most importantly, one was guarding the door to his room. There were no gaps.

Jacob worried about the only possibility. If one or both of the mafia groups pushed in twenty or thirty armed thugs and started a proper gunfight, he could die.

No, no. He had already prepared for that too. Before The Morrígan’s contractor could move, he had deployed goblins throughout New York, so if there was any large movement, they would have reported it already.

Nevertheless, the strange anxiety wouldn’t go away. Despite having no reason to be anxious, his body kept trembling unpleasantly. He needed something to calm the trembling.

Jacob barely managed to get up. Even going to the bathroom felt like taking too great a risk, so he shuffled across the room in his robe and slippers, his gun still pointed at the door, the only exit.

He picked up a wine bottle from the display case. It was an imitation of something that had ceased production at least ten years ago. I miss the genuine Vin Mariani. Why did they discontinue something even the Pope praised?

Jacob poured the liquid into a glass. The distinctive aroma was so strong it masked the wine’s scent, but he didn’t care. The wine in this glass was no different from water taken to swallow medicine.

He filled the wine glass completely with the drink, against wine etiquette, and took a sip. The detective turned the second corner.

Only after that drink went down did Jacob feel some vitality. His anxious mind was filled with pleasant energy. He could feel strength building up.

After savoring the effect of one sip, he poured the entire contents of the glass into his mouth. Like a child savoring candy, letting it dissolve rather than swallowing it, he endured the trembling of his hands.

Due to his greedy drinking, wine stains remained on his neck, but he didn’t care. The only thing that bothered him was the desire to suck on the wine-stained collar.

His clouded mind finally seemed to clear. While scratching his itchy forearm, he refilled the wine glass. Though the effect was good, it faded quickly, so he had no choice but to drink more.

With a wine glass in one hand, he walked toward the phonograph as if dancing a waltz with the glass. His steps were zigzagging, but that wasn’t a big problem. This house was safe, after all. He could afford to be a little careless.

With his headache and fatigue completely gone, Jacob rummaged through the records placed in front of the phonograph and found a song with a fitting title. Full of energy, he spoke even though there was no one to hear.

“None shall sleep… Yes, this song suits this mood perfectly. Good, good. Now I need to think more about the plan. I could leave New York entirely and go to my compatriot in New Jersey…”

The orc standing guard outside wasn’t close enough to hear him mutter “junkie bastard” under his breath. Just as Jacob was about to place the needle on the record, the phone in the room began to ring loudly.

Damn, I was in a good mood and now it’s all ruined. Staggering toward the phone, he picked up the receiver. Whoever was calling, the situation was a mess.

In the background, he could faintly hear someone screaming that they couldn’t see, and the caller was breathing heavily.

“Who is this? What’s the point of calling on a day like this? Is this from the organization? Hey, who is this!”

The person on the other end sighed, recognizing that Jacob was abnormally excited. The advisor to the goblin mafia who had washed away blood scolded him as if frustrated by his waste of precious time.

“Jacob, you stupid bastard… Are you high even on a day like this? Get a grip! Just now, just now The Morrígan’s contractor came here. He cursed us to death and left. And you’re next. You’re the planner, after all. The contractor has probably gone to your place. Have you secured your perimeter well? If you’re just stupidly getting high at home, I’d rather…”

Only after realizing this was someone above him did Jacob slightly suppress his uncontrollable excitement. Just slightly.

“If that were the case, I’d have bitten the bullet since I already have a gun in my hand. Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ve already called in at least ten orcs and they’re patrolling. The guys who’ve been up all night will be replaced soon. And why are you making such a fuss about getting a little blood, old man? Even if it weren’t for that…”

“You’d better watch your mouth. Damn it… Put your bodyguard on. Why am I having a conversation with a junkie…”

After that, the orc bodyguard standing at the door came in and spoke with the organization’s advisor. Jacob couldn’t remember the content well, and all he wanted was to play the record in front of him.

He had elaborate thoughts. He fantasized about writing two essays, repeating the same words hundreds of times about how cocaine awakens the mind and inspires ideas and inspiration.

Jacob was an extremely capable person when not on drugs. The detective’s car arrived at the entrance to the wealthy neighborhood. That’s why Jacob’s plan could be accepted, but a junkie was ultimately just a junkie.

After the call, which had lasted almost thirty minutes, his bodyguard shook the shoulder of Jacob, who had been fidgeting as if bored. When Jacob looked up, the words poured out immediately.

“The organization’s advisor said he’ll send more men this way. Since our guys are in terrible shape from staying up all night, we’ll be changing shifts, and he said he just sent them so they can come in at that time. He said don’t die. You know how much our side’s morale will drop with each success they have in this situation. Jacob, Jacob!”

The orc called out again as Jacob seemed unable to focus on the conversation. Only then did the drugged goblin look up at him. The goblin opened his hand and began counting.

“So, there are three of us, right? If they targeted the advisor, they’ll target me too, and of course the boss will be a target as well. So, one, two, three… the advisor is already as good as dealt with… what’s left is…”

He tried to organize the situation, repeating what he had already heard from the orc. Just empty words. Two remained.

The two at the main gate are the last ones. Ten in total, I think. Seeing their poor condition, it seemed like it was time for a shift change soon. The detective got out of the car. He hadn’t brought a gun.

He had heard about the middle gate of this mansion’s garden from the goblins who had betrayed their kind and joined the Nolls. He heard that while bodyguards would guard it, it would be empty during shift changes. It was true.

Jacob felt an inexplicable anxiety. Something that couldn’t be suppressed even with cocaine-laced wine. To quell that anxiety, he finally placed the needle on the record and played the song.

The voice of a famous vocalist spread, singing that no one should sleep. Only now did he feel somewhat reassured, so Jacob finally lay down deeply on the sofa.

Due to the song, he couldn’t properly hear the orc bodyguard saying they would change shifts. The two guarding the main gate left first, and then the one guarding the middle gate headed toward the main gate.

The detective, hearing the presence disappear, grabbed the wooden handle of the middle gate. It was locked, but poorly. It broke with a snap.

Under the midday sun approaching noon, he opened the door and entered the garden of the house. He crossed the garden boldly.

Those who had been patrolling inside the mansion had now left for the shift change, but more cars than the detective had expected had gathered in front of the mansion’s main gate. Not just orcs and ogres, but goblins were mixed in.

Gancan must have succeeded. They seem to be trying to protect this guy by redirecting useless bodyguards here, but if that was the case, they shouldn’t have sent people according to the shift change schedule.

It was true that reinforcements had arrived, so he needed to act quickly. He ran across the garden. The footprints left on the mansion’s lawn would be evidence that a contractor had been there. It would be a warning.

There was no need to enter the building and take the stairs. The detective lightly bent his legs and jumped up to grab the stone ornament at the boundary between the first and second floors. With that, he pulled himself up with twice the strength.

Jacob Goldstein’s bedroom is on the second floor. If he’s not in the second-floor room, he’ll be in the third-floor study. That’s what the detective had heard from the goblins who had joined Mother Noll.

Now he could hear the song coming from the phonograph. The soprano’s voice was almost shouting the lyrics. The lyrics shouting “I will win, I will win” were ridiculously ironic.

Only Jacob, the owner of the mansion, could play records in this house. The detective quietly climbed up to the second-floor balcony. He quietly opened the unlocked window and entered.

Now he could see the goblin lying on the sofa, singing along to the song. He could see the goblin, seemingly high on drugs, singing with clenched fists. The detective drew a skinning knife from his waist.

He didn’t hear the detective approaching. Even until the detective’s gloved hand almost touched his shoulder and neck, bringing the blade to his nape, he didn’t open his eyes.

Even the gun he had firmly gripped when dealing with his bodyguards and the barber was now placed on the sofa when the detective came.

Even such a person opened his eyes the moment the sharp skinning knife touched his nape. A single word, not even becoming speech, much less a death cry, was swallowed by the song and didn’t even echo in the room.

“Who…”

The sharp skinning knife blade passed over his neck as if caressing it, as if licking it. It felt as if nothing caught on the blade.

Afterward, only the sound of air escaping flowed. The record was still spinning. The soprano gave her all to shout “I will win” one last time, and the wine stain on the goblin’s robe began to be covered up.

The detective smirked at the goblin who hadn’t recognized him until the moment of death. It was a kind gesture in its own way. After all, he wasn’t someone who responded well while working.

“I’m no one special. Just facts you had forgotten. The fact that this is what happens when you make sloppy plans, and the fact that this is what happens when you’re drunk or high when you should be alert.”

When I started this job, I thought I was acting a bit like a detective, but in the end, it turns out like this. It wasn’t something for the detective to worry about. A detective’s job is a detective’s job, and a fixer’s job is a fixer’s job.

The detective returned to the balcony he had entered through and closed the window. He jumped down before the orc, who was doing the handover thinking nothing had happened during the two minutes he was away, returned.

They would be left with only two facts: that the lock on the middle gate hidden in the bushes of the garden was broken, and that they had failed in their job.

The detective got back into his car. In any case, the fact that no one among the goblin mafia knew him was proven by the words of that junkie goblin. To properly confirm, he quietly waited there.

Only after hearing the bodyguards belatedly discover the goblin and shout things like “find him” and “how did he get in” did he turn his car toward Bar Reno in Little Eire.

In the bar sat Gancan, who seemed to have just returned, and The Morrígan, who was somehow full of energy. Is The Morrígan on drugs too? Humans on cocaine generally show that kind of reaction.

Despite the detective’s suspicion, The Morrígan smiled with her eyes at his safe return. The contractor’s safe return meant the job was done.

Exactly one day had passed since the two organizations had resolved to dispose of the goblins. Of the three targets, two were now dead.