Ch.87

May 27, 1929. 11:21 AM

Middleston Meat Pie Restaurant

Kingsport

“Eat up.” “Eat plenty.”

While Abashina cut my sandwich into bite-sized pieces, Aurora brought over some warmed milk. The two women glared at each other. Abashina lifted her chin.

“Do I look good?”

It wasn’t until dawn that I was able to lie down next to Abashina and fall asleep. I was awakened by a hotel employee shouting that we needed to decide whether to stay another day or check out. So all three of us had slept until ten-thirty. Aurora’s face still showed signs of fatigue, but it was filled with languor and comfort. Similar to how one feels after a good sweat in the sauna.

“I was thinking all night.”

“Oh? About what?”

“About taking a train and going far, far away.”

Abashina snickered, but my legs went weak. Even riding a horse wouldn’t have been like last night. It was a complicated counseling session accompanied by moans, coquetry, pleasure, and cries of ecstasy. Still, Aurora wasn’t completely lying.

While lamenting that today would be the last time she could say such things, she had confessed her longing for a completely different life. As a medical officer, she had tasted such freedom. But upon returning home, everyone recognized her as the daughter of a mafia noble family, so she had to return to Pollard.

So, she decided to create her own family. If she couldn’t have a caring and warm family, she would make one herself.

“I keep thinking that you’re my final puzzle piece. If I go back, my puzzle will remain forever incomplete. But it’s okay. Just stay close. Just wait until I put all the other pieces together.”

Aurora had whispered while we showered together. Fortunately, Abashina was still sound asleep then, so she seemed unaware of the context.

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“I ate some chocolate before sleeping.”

Abashina looked truly happy. Her voice was full of energy and her actions overflowed with confidence. Even when sitting still, she seemed to have no regrets.

“Really? Share some with me. How good is this chocolate for your body?”

“I will if you let me on that ‘train’ too.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Aurora fiddled with her empty cup.

“I was originally planning to take a different ship than you. But there’s no need for such trouble. Let’s just take the same ship. We just have to pretend not to know each other, right?”

“That’s funny.”

“Is it? Then should I board a different ship? A fast steamship would be nice. Shoving shovels deep into the hot furnace…”

“Shut up. Don’t talk to me on the ship.”

There was still some time before boarding the liner. Abashina bought chocolate, and Aurora bought another pair of shoes. Finally, when the two left in a taxi, extreme fatigue washed over me.

I walked the streets. I was already tired, and with a full stomach, drowsiness overwhelmed me. Even the luggage in my hand felt heavy. I wondered if there was somewhere I could take a quick nap. Would I miss Scully if I fell asleep?

I spotted a suitable open space. It was labeled as some memorial park, and there was a statue of a person on horseback in the center of the circular plaza, but I couldn’t tell what it was commemorating. It seemed quiet except for birds hopping around looking for insects, so I sat on a bench.

And then I must have dozed off.

“The sunshine is nice.”

It was that lady. Polo shirt, golf pants, and a hunting cap. Black sunglasses to hide her motionless eyes. Clarice Holmes. I asked if she had come to go for my throat.

“What an interesting thing to say. A butcher doesn’t ask a pig, ‘May I kill you?’ He just says a brief prayer after it’s dead and then forgets about it. And I don’t believe in God. Trying to put your hand in your inner pocket? Fine. But at that angle, you won’t be able to fire. The tip of the gun will get caught. At best, you’ll hit between us.”

I asked what she wanted. A sneer appeared on Holmes’s lips. No, can that even be called a smile? Isn’t it just stretching her mouth sideways?

“Americans really are creatures who live in the present. What I want is sunshine. I don’t think it’s been even a minute since I said the sunshine is nice.”

I took my hands off my pockets and placed my free hands on my legs. This enigmatic woman was completely unpredictable. Instead, I asked why she had cut out Max Ashton’s ledger.

“Oh. I didn’t come to answer your questions. I came to warn you. Stay out of my business.”

I replied that I would do as I pleased and that threats wouldn’t work on me. Holmes got up and left. A small mechanical device was left in her place. It was a music box about the size of a finger joint, and when I wound the spring on the side, monotonous music flowed out.

* * * * *

May 27, 1929. 3:11 PM

Kingsport Police Station

Kingsport

Katherine Scully remains modest and calm. At the police station, she shared only the plain facts.

“Max Ashton was a complicated person. He was always indecisive and made impulsive decisions, yet was meticulous in unnecessary areas. After a careless accountant at Arkham Asylum made a double charge, he managed his ledgers thoroughly.”

From a paper file, she handed me the cleanly cut page from Ashton’s ledger. At the bottom, the words ‘commission fee’ were clearly visible next to a large sum of money.

“He had a showy personality but was lonely. He was frugal and economical, yet always made big bets at gambling houses. He had no future plans and just let things happen. But there’s a certain rationality even in that.”

I asked what rationality there could be in that.

“Why do people save money and cut back on spending? It’s because they expect tomorrow’s money to be better than today’s. So if there’s no expectation for tomorrow, it’s natural to spend even tomorrow’s money today. Ashton was that kind of person. Not just Ashton. I think America is similar. Not a good sign.”

Scully frowned.

“The Federal Security Bureau decided to collect as many cases like Ashton’s as possible, but withdrew after three days. There were too many such cases. From police and civil servants to bankers, no one was exempt. Of course, not everyone would plant a bomb in their body like Ashton, but… this is unprecedented.”

Scully’s fist hit the desk with a thud.

“Let’s summarize. Ashton volunteered for the bombing. He received a huge sum of money, paid off his bank and gambling debts, and spent the rest on treating his mistress at Arkham Asylum. Ashton is, so to speak, like the first flash. His story has already spread throughout the underworld. To those who are frustrated, see no light, and can’t find a reason to live.”

I asked about the lady from London. I said I knew she was working with the Federal Security Bureau and that the bureau was accommodating her.

“How did you…”

I told her how Clarice Holmes had been ahead of my investigation, how we had collided, and about the bizarre human mannequin on the second floor of the ranch. Scully sighed with a “phew” and lowered her head.

“This is top secret. Whatever you say outside this room, I never told you this story. I’m telling you this because I trust you that much. I believe you’ll understand. And about what to do next.”

It was a puzzling statement. I waited silently.

According to Scully, Clarice Holmes was tracking a man named Professor James Moriarty. Outwardly, Moriarty was a renowned university professor, but in reality, he was a crime consultant.

As Britain rapidly became fascist and ruthlessly cracked down on organized crime, the organizations he consulted for disappeared, and with nothing to do, Moriarty applied for asylum in the Soviet Union. At that time, a Soviet high-ranking officer named Svidrigailov and a group of young officers were in London.

It’s unknown what deal was made between them, but at that point, Moriarty chose to come to America. And here, he’s displaying his talents. America is the land of opportunity. Technology is advanced and wealth is abundant. But these things just keep circulating at the top.

Moriarty knows that a world where only a few are happy is more miserable than one where everyone is poor.

“He laid the foundations of clockwork engineering, but the royal family didn’t give him enough funding. There was no definitive proof that he was doing evil things, but there was plenty of circumstantial evidence. And here, his technology has advanced further. He even made self-replicating automatons modeled after himself. The mechanical man you saw is one of his doppelgangers.

No one knows when he left here. But he’s definitely planning something bigger. Kingsport was just a test.”

Scully pointed to a map hanging on the wall of the Kingsport police station.

“The more conflict and discord among people, the more frequently crimes occur. However, the nature of the crime differs depending on whether the area is wealthy or not. In wealthy areas, money-related crimes are common. In poor areas, violence, murder, and arson occur frequently. It’s bitter that there’s a gap even in crime.

However, it’s still unknown why he specifically chose Kingsport in Massachusetts. The most likely possibility seems to be his connections with professors at MIT and Miskatonic University. They probably met through academic conferences.”

I asked about Clarice Holmes.

“She’s here to catch Moriarty. She’s a high-ranking investigator from Britain. She’s also skilled in various engineering fields, criminal investigation, tracking, and combat. She’s also the one who single-handedly stopped Moriarty’s organization. She tends to act independently as a star player, but she deserves to. In fact, the reason I’m telling you all this is because she acknowledges you and your team. How did you manage that?”

I hadn’t done anything special. It was all Aurora and Abashina. So I just remained silent.

“Well, that’s fine. Anyway, Holmes told me that Moriarty is a devil. He never reveals himself, is even reluctant to reveal himself, but enjoys twisting the existing social norms. He doesn’t corrupt people. He amplifies existing conflicts and makes them irreversible.

And currently, America has many such conflicts. Race. Class divided by money. And in Massachusetts, there are three places where such conflicts are most severe. One is Boston. Another is Pollard Island. The last one is Arkham. But Moriarty is still in a period of adaptation and will look for other places where he can gain experience. That’s what he’s been doing so far.

In England too, he corrupted the countryside of Exeter and destroyed a medium-sized city in Scotland. He’ll do the same here. So, Holmes.”

Scully pointed to a spot on the map. It’s not far from either Pollard or Kingsport.

Innsmouth.

“She told me to pay attention to this place. This place has traditionally had many problems. Would you think of that unfortunate professor from Miskatonic University?”

I looked at Scully. I seemed to understand why she hadn’t hidden these matters.

“Please go to Innsmouth with Crayfield. Assistant.”

Scully’s face was full of shadows. I asked if she had no intention of going herself.

“I can provide as much financial support as needed, but human support is difficult. Henry Payne still hasn’t gotten up from his bed. And there’s a big hole in our organization. Information is leaking from somewhere, but we still haven’t found where. I… maybe this hole isn’t below me. No. I’m sorry. That was too much.”

Upper levels. That’s what she wanted to say.

“We’re not simply fighting a criminal from England. We need to protect faith. Faith that society will be safe. Faith that my neighbor won’t harm me. Of course, we fight even within the same country! But at least we don’t generally think that someone will kill us just because we’re fighting. But if we let Moriarty run rampant, we might really end up like that. Before such a terrible world arrives, before an era comes where people kill each other and close their hearts. We must stop it.”

I asked if there was an end to this endless and tedious fight. It didn’t seem much different from what Crayfield was doing. Crayfield tries to prevent the end of the world, and Scully tries to prevent the collapse of society. But isn’t that a defensive rather than an offensive position? Can’t we twist things from the fundamental level? Surprisingly, Scully smiled.

“Think about a car wheel. The wheel just turns in place, but thanks to that, the car moves forward. Is there an end? No, there isn’t. We’ve just inherited the will of countless people who strived to sustain a better world before us. Just like people who quietly go about their daily routines in their own places.”

I was surprised by the more positive answer than expected, especially coming from Scully of all people. When I expressed my honest feelings, Scully smiled pleasantly.

“Really? That’s good. Let me tell you an interesting story. I don’t like mixing science and humanities in a worthless way, but… all atoms in the world attract each other. But if they attract too much, they repel each other. In the midst of pushing and pulling, a balance of forces is maintained. The stronger this balance, the more stable the material. People are similar. Small strings that let us know we’re alive and living sustain us. Some strings are so strong that they bury people, but… conversely, there are many in the world who lack such strings. For Ashton, his unfaithful fiancée was almost his only string.”

I wondered if I had become a string for Abashina and Aurora. Are they strings for me? What about Crayfield? Scully? I had never thought about it before.

“By the way, you’ve changed quite a bit. Before, you were very, even more blindly driven than Clarice Holmes. But now you can ask such questions.”

I asked what she meant. Scully lightly brushed the desk.

“Among all the people I’ve seen so far, the most blindly mechanical person was *you*. When a problem arose, you rushed to solve it. That’s all there was to *you*, right?”

The room spun. Scully’s body tilted. My head was spinning. I saw the startled Scully rising from her seat. The cold cement floor of the Kingsport police station hit my cheek.

– Ch.6 Tinker. Tailor. Soldier. Lady. End –

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