leave Texas and come to this cold, foggy and grubby city. I knew it was here and it cost me a fortune to find it.’
‘I too search for something,’ Bizmillah said as he flicked a card into the air and watched it vanish, the trick unseen by Luger who swigged on the bottle. ‘A pack of cards so daring, so amazing that to touch them would be all I could ever desire. In the right hands the cards know your very heart and like a beautiful stage filled with the finest artistes, play out your life in the dancing pictures.’
‘Dancing pictures, you say?’ Luger muttered through a mouthful of brandy that dribbled down his chin as he spoke. ‘Pretty ladies or ugly men?’
‘Whatever is in your life will come from the cards. They are not marked or tapered and have no trickery of any kind. It is as if they have a will of their own and an understanding of the human heart. There were once two such decks and now there is only one.’
‘And who has these all-dancing, all-seeing knights, knaves and queens?’ Luger asked.
‘They vanished many years ago, taken from Vienna. They have travelled across Europe and now they are somewhere in London. In every city I hear stories that they have been seen, that some great deception has been performed, and every time I am a month, a week or a day behind. Once, in Paris, I even knew the man who had found them. I went to his apartment and discovered he was dead and the cards were nowhere to be found.’
‘How much would I have to pay to get my hands on them?’
‘Priceless, totally priceless. The only way to get them would be to steal them,’ Bizmillah whispered as he looked over Luger’s shoulder and around the room to see if they were being overheard.
‘Then that’s what we’ll do, my friend. Nothing should keep a man from his desires, and if we have to steal them, so be it.’ Luger slapped Bizmillah heartily on the back, grabbed him bythe hand and squeezed it in a crushing handshake. ‘I have two men, detectives, Grimm and Grendel. They found something for me and I’m sure they could accommodate a little investigation into your poker deck.’
‘Poker?’ Bizmillah exclaimed as a look of disgust crossed his face. ‘Nothing so crude as that, they are the Panjandrum. The finest deck ever crafted, life breathed into them by their creator.’
‘Whatever,’ Luger replied as he sucked on the bottle. ‘One thing, Mister Bizmillah. I own a hotel, newly built and the grandest in Europe. Come and work for me and I will find your Mister Panjandrum and get you his cards. All I ask is that you help me …’
Now that seemed such a long time ago. Luger had never kept his promise and all talk of the Panjandrum had faded into a never-mentioned place. Every night of the week, Bizmillah had entertained the guests of the Prince Regent with an ever-decreasing supply of magical doves and disappearing frogs.
Luger had taken to inventing all manner of strange steam-powered devices to bring health to his clients. Deep in the depths of the hotel, where maids and porters would fear to walk alone, he had spent many days and nights in his laboratory, the sound of his pounding iron reverberating through the lift shaft to the very pinnacle of the hotel.
‘So you’ll send in the boy?’ Luger said as Bizmillah stepped from the room. ‘I have things to do, so don’t let him keep me waiting.’
Bizmillah smiled his submissive smile, rubbing his servile hands in complete humility. ‘Very well, Mister Luger, whatever you say.’
Mariah was seated on the chair outside the office in his new black suit, his feet pained by his new boots that pinched his toes into a sharp point. He had sat and watched the passing ofevery guest, looking for Isambard Black. He had taken the time to go to the long oak desk and, taking a halfpenny from his pocket, had bought a picture postcard of the Prince Regent. Then he had taken a short stubby charcoal pencil from his pocket and scrawled the words Perfidious
‘I too search for something,’ Bizmillah said as he flicked a card into the air and watched it vanish, the trick unseen by Luger who swigged on the bottle. ‘A pack of cards so daring, so amazing that to touch them would be all I could ever desire. In the right hands the cards know your very heart and like a beautiful stage filled with the finest artistes, play out your life in the dancing pictures.’
‘Dancing pictures, you say?’ Luger muttered through a mouthful of brandy that dribbled down his chin as he spoke. ‘Pretty ladies or ugly men?’
‘Whatever is in your life will come from the cards. They are not marked or tapered and have no trickery of any kind. It is as if they have a will of their own and an understanding of the human heart. There were once two such decks and now there is only one.’
‘And who has these all-dancing, all-seeing knights, knaves and queens?’ Luger asked.
‘They vanished many years ago, taken from Vienna. They have travelled across Europe and now they are somewhere in London. In every city I hear stories that they have been seen, that some great deception has been performed, and every time I am a month, a week or a day behind. Once, in Paris, I even knew the man who had found them. I went to his apartment and discovered he was dead and the cards were nowhere to be found.’
‘How much would I have to pay to get my hands on them?’
‘Priceless, totally priceless. The only way to get them would be to steal them,’ Bizmillah whispered as he looked over Luger’s shoulder and around the room to see if they were being overheard.
‘Then that’s what we’ll do, my friend. Nothing should keep a man from his desires, and if we have to steal them, so be it.’ Luger slapped Bizmillah heartily on the back, grabbed him bythe hand and squeezed it in a crushing handshake. ‘I have two men, detectives, Grimm and Grendel. They found something for me and I’m sure they could accommodate a little investigation into your poker deck.’
‘Poker?’ Bizmillah exclaimed as a look of disgust crossed his face. ‘Nothing so crude as that, they are the Panjandrum. The finest deck ever crafted, life breathed into them by their creator.’
‘Whatever,’ Luger replied as he sucked on the bottle. ‘One thing, Mister Bizmillah. I own a hotel, newly built and the grandest in Europe. Come and work for me and I will find your Mister Panjandrum and get you his cards. All I ask is that you help me …’
Now that seemed such a long time ago. Luger had never kept his promise and all talk of the Panjandrum had faded into a never-mentioned place. Every night of the week, Bizmillah had entertained the guests of the Prince Regent with an ever-decreasing supply of magical doves and disappearing frogs.
Luger had taken to inventing all manner of strange steam-powered devices to bring health to his clients. Deep in the depths of the hotel, where maids and porters would fear to walk alone, he had spent many days and nights in his laboratory, the sound of his pounding iron reverberating through the lift shaft to the very pinnacle of the hotel.
‘So you’ll send in the boy?’ Luger said as Bizmillah stepped from the room. ‘I have things to do, so don’t let him keep me waiting.’
Bizmillah smiled his submissive smile, rubbing his servile hands in complete humility. ‘Very well, Mister Luger, whatever you say.’
Mariah was seated on the chair outside the office in his new black suit, his feet pained by his new boots that pinched his toes into a sharp point. He had sat and watched the passing ofevery guest, looking for Isambard Black. He had taken the time to go to the long oak desk and, taking a halfpenny from his pocket, had bought a picture postcard of the Prince Regent. Then he had taken a short stubby charcoal pencil from his pocket and scrawled the words Perfidious
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