The Infinity Bridge

Part 17

A hundred painted eyes watched Delta impassively as he stood in the vast office. Six sets of human eyes regarded him every bit as coldly from behind, albeit with far greater fear.

Mr Crank, criminal kingpin of East Birmingham, paced the far end of the office. He paused occasionally to rearrange and admire the dozens of porcelain figures that sat on the office shelves. He wore a deep red satin dressing gown and puffed on a cigarette in a holder. The smoke crept eerily around the glazed figures: ballerinas in mid-jump; chubby girls with balloons; frolicking cherubs. They exuded a strange sinister presence in the room—a juxtaposition of quaint charm to Crank’s understated evil.

‘My boys here inform me that your rather splendid pistol had the unfortunate side effect of killing one of my men, Mr...?’

‘Delta.’

Crank raised his eyebrows. ‘Aah, a scholar of the classics perhaps? Adopting a moniker based on ancient Grecian letters?’

‘It is my designation, nothing more,’ Delta replied. ‘Why have you brought me here?’

‘Dear boy, you appear to be in possession of something akin to a death ray, a phrase that I have borrowed from one of the pulp-rags that Rufus here chooses to practice his letters on. I find it rather unbelievable, myself.’

‘Oh? More unbelievable than a mature gangster collecting little dolls?’

There was such an intake of breath in the office that Delta considered the possibility of a gas leak. His sensors indicated all five men behind him were aiming their guns. Delta calculated positions and correlated it with his own current damage repair status—it would be a close call, but he could probably kill them all before they slew him.

Mr Crank chuckled, though his grey eyes were as humourless as stone. ‘Easy boys! Mr Delta is a guest. Just for future reference the last man rude enough to insult my collection is evaluating the pollution levels at the bottom of Birmingham’s innumerable canals.’

‘More canals than Venice,’ Rufus chipped in. He looked at his boots when Crank glared at him.

‘My apologies, such humour was very much in evidence in my... prior residence. So it is my weapon you are interested in?’

Mr Crank eased into a plush chair. He smoothed his slick silvery hair. The smoke writhed around him demonically.

‘Indeed. It would be of immense value in my line of work. I am, after all, a businessman and a collector—and I am trying to broaden my mind.’

Delta nodded. ‘A broad mind will be a pre-requisite to a partnership, Mr Crank. My side of the arrangement is that I will require your assistance in locating two individuals. They would have been in the alley prior to my regaining consciousness.’

Rufus raised his hand, like a small child at school. ‘Er... Mr Crank... sir, they were with Bourneville.’

‘Bourneville? That idiot? Well that was a simple transaction. Take some of the boys—they’ll accompany you to visit Bourneville. When you return you can entertain me with this death ray of yours.’