1931 The Grand Punk Railroad: Local by Ryohgo Narita Page A

other words, half of everything on these rails belongs to the Irish.”
    “Add in the Chinese workers’ share, and it’s everything.”
    Jon began saying something even more unfair than what the mustachioed man and Isaac had said. Neither of them had personally built the railroad, and in any case, they’d become Jacuzzi’s friends after their compatriots had chased them out.
    “So, you whiskered pig, everything here is ours, including your life. Don’t you forget it.”
    Smacking the mustachioed man’s cheek lightly, Jon and Fang started to go back into the dining car.
    At that, possibly because he’d suddenly grown uneasy, the man’s attitude changed abruptly, and he clung to Jon slavishly.
    “W-w-w-wait! Those white suits… They’re out here! Please! Let me in!”
    “Don’t worry. It didn’t look like they had any stinking hicks or yellow monkeys in their group. Make friends with them. If you come in here, we’ll kill you.”
    With that, the door shut without mercy.
    When they entered, the passengers seemed to have regained some of their composure. A glance around showed that the three corpses had disappeared from the dining car. Possibly the other cooks had carried them out. At this point, everyone was quickly wiping the bloodstains off the floor and the walls.
    As they went behind the counter, their eyes met Isaac’s and Miria’s.
    “Thanks.”
    Jon offered it in an undertone, and they didn’t seem to hear him.
    “Hey, welcome back! I’ve gotta say, your chef sounds like a real tough guy!”
    “Yes, the strongest legend!”
    Isaac and Miria heaped excessive praise on the individual in the back of the kitchen.
    This chef considered cuisine his top priority in life, and so, while he was cooking, he never left his post, no matter what. …To the point that there was an anecdote about how, even when a gas explosion had occurred right next him, he hadn’t abandoned his pan. Naturally, during the firefight a short while earlier, the chef had continued to stir the stew pot, all by himself.
    “Still, that was one nasty customer! There’s really no excuse for making false accusations like that!”
    “Yes, he was just too mean!”
    “I mean, this place doesn’t stink at all, and there are no monkeys anywhere! Ye gods, how dumb does he think we are?!”
    “The guy who makes fools of people is the real fool!”
    As Jon heard out their proclamations, a doubt flickered inside him.
    Wait… Were these guys actually protecting us, or…did they just not understand what the slang meant?
    Breaking out in a cold sweat, Jon hastily canceled that thought.

    “Who are those men in the white suits?”
    Goose frowned over the obstacle to the operation that had suddenly presented itself.
    He’d heard that there was a group of men in white suits in the second-class carriages, but he’d never imagined that his subordinates, who’d had machine guns, would be defeated. He didn’t know what sort of group they were, but it was evident that they were far from ordinary.
    “In any case, temporarily call back everyone whose hands are free.”
    At that order, several members withdrew, while one switched on the wireless set and attempted to contact the rear cars.
    “Good Lord. First Nader and now the group in white. Should I consider this some sort of trial?”
    “I can’t imagine we’ll reach it that easily, can you, Goose?”
    At Spike’s question, Goose glanced at the corner of the room—where Chané was, silent, with her arms folded—and answered quietly.
    “You’re right. It isn’t possible to reach Master Huey’s heights by any normal path.”
    As he turned his back on Chané, Goose’s lips twisted into a smirk.

    “So, hey. Ladd. What the hell is that orchestra?”
    Ladd answered his friend’s question with a rapturous expression:
    “A feast. I dunno anything else, and there’s absolutely no need to. Right?” he said, absently, bewildering his companions.
    “Anyway, just kill them all.”
    At those