A soho loft in Old Compton Street.
'And that, gentlemen, is how we avenge ourselves of Edna's treatment at the hands of Mik and net ourselves a tidy nest egg into the bargain.'
The tall figure of Professor Ricardo Edwardio switched off the laser pointer and stood apprehensively awaiting the reaction from his audience.
'...If that's alright with you', he hastily added. He looked back at the blackboard and again at this audience with a nervous half smile. The audience didn't stir. He cleared his throat. Nothing.
'Erm...' he began.
'What I don't...' started a voice at the back of the group just as the prof was saying "erm".
'Sorry', said Ricardo.
'Sorry', said the voice.
'You go', and 'Please finish what...' the voices said simultaneously before both sought refuge in silence again.
The professor made 'come forth' motions with his hands to indicate that the henchman's opinions were indeed welcome and that now was a good time to get it off his chest. The henchman loked around at his colleagues to check that it was indeed he who was being given the opportunity to speak. He was a swarthy mediterranean type of chap and although dressed from head to toe in black silk and leather and adorned with various gold chains and rings there was something about his manner that suggested a certain...incompetence. No, maybe that's a little harsh- awkwardness. In fact, it was a trait that the group as a whole shared which was surprising; this being a collection of some of the darkest and most evil animators in England. This was the group that Professor Edwardio- a wicked and diabolical criminal mind- had put ogether as his team to take over the London post production Fx scene.
At the back was Quattro 'John' Formaggio the black-bedecked Italian who seemed to be having so much difficulty making his point. Next to him sat Half Fat 'The Beserker' and in front of them sat the massive brutal form of Benethy De Blanc. And in the corner, as far away as they could put her, sat a slightly bruised Edna. Smelling a little of fish and not making any friends because of it.
'Yeah', continued Quattro, 'Erm...ah... I was just saying that what I don't get is what Edna was doing there in the first place. You know, she and I have been kind of close recently- although won't be again until she showers obviously- and I'm a bit...I was a bit...you know. Worried.'
Professor Ricardo looked immediately aghast. ' Oh, Quattro, don't think for a minute that I purposefully exposed Edna to this danger but she was invaluable, already being a part of Mik's organisation...'
Quattro interrupted him,' God! Oh no! I wasn't saying that you would do that on purpose at all! I'm sorry that...'
'No I'm sorry, I'm the one that should be apologising' Ricardo said and there ensued a stuttering battle of apologies as each sincerely tried to extricate himself from any implication of rash insinuation. At one point Half Fat began apologising as well for reasons of his own and De Blanc looked betwen the three of them desperately awaiting an opportunity to leap in with a few slices of humble pie himself.
Edna reflected during the chaos. The problem was that Ricardo had gathered the most malignant forces in animation but they were so aware of each others reputations that they had reached a mexican standoff of respect and awe and it had degenerated into rank politeness and deference. Since the apologies didn't seem to be stopping any time soon she took herself off for a much needed shower. The bruises would heal and she couldn't help but come to the conclusion that the big ape with the fish had gone a little easy on her. Had there been something in his eyes? An element of kindness...or even something else? She bemusedly twirled a strand of hair around her fingers as the other hand brushed fish scales from her shoulders. She continued to replay the scene in her mind. The cops had arrived and started shooting in random directions while they slipped and skided over the rotting fruit sodden street. And then the one with the fish- Spline wasn't it? Had thrown her into a skip. But to deal with later or get her out of harms way? Still, when she had raised her head to view the scene she was surprised to find no one. The shouting had receded into the distance, there were no bodies, so she had simply taken herself back to the loft. Funny old world she thought to herself as she towelled off, dressed and went back to join the others.
In an ally besides 'Aldis...and more!' sat a couple of street people. Not street people in a juggly, mime kind of way but street people in a smelly, could-I-have-10p-for-the-bus kind of way. They had sat in this alley for longer than either could remember and they had seen everything that the alley had to offer, which until earlier in the day hadn't amounted to a hell of a lot. But now they had seen a woman almost beaten to death with a fish and a raging gun battle and were feeling fairly desensitized. As one passed the plastic bottle of purple liquid to his friend he said, 'Tell you what I think it was Big Kev', 'What's that Ski-Bum Ivor?' replied his rag-dressed companion. 'I reckon it was the Mafia'. 'Nah', replied Big Kev,'the Mafia send you to sleep with the fishes, they don't beat you to death with them', 'Good point.' conceded Ski-Bum Ivor. Just then the a door opened and a figure slipped out into the shadows. It smelled the air briefly and then was gone. Big Kev looked at Ski-Bum Ivor and said thoughtfully, 'Might be those Japanese Tripods though.'
In the loft the apologies had stopped, or at least reached am impasse, and Quattro's forehead was beaded with sweat as he relaxed into his seat. The professor was nervously clicking his laser pointer off and on. De Blanc was paused open mouthed having not been able to say anything and Half Fat was giggling nervously.
'So, that's all decided then? We go in, kill all Mik's bodyguards, kill Mik, stuff him and continue operating out of Aldis...and More! ourselves with no one the wiser. Protections rackets, numbers running and logo jobs, yada, yada.'
This was met with mutterings of agreeement and a half hearted attempt to give it three cheers. Edwardio asked if there were any questions. A hand went up. 'Yes Benethy? What's on your mind?' De Blanc sheepishly lowered his hand and said,
'Sorry. But could you put the pointer down? I think you've burned out my retinas. I can't see anything. Sorry'
At around this time my band of trusty cannon fodder was itself in mid-plan in a coffee shop on Dean Street.
'So what you're saying Vink', I said,'is that we should go in, kill all Mik's bodyguards, kill Mik, stuff him and continue operating out of Aldis...and More! ourselves with no one the wiser. Protections rackets, numbers running and logo jobs?'
Vink shrugged, 'Basically...yeah'.
'You don't think that there may be a moral question here that we should address?' I asked.
'Basically...no'.
'Hmmm...anyone else got an idea? please?'
Robbo broke into a lazy grin,'Why don't we get the Producers in on this? Let them do all the dirty work?'.
'Precisely because it is work. Too unreliable and getting them out of bed would take more effort than beating Mik to death with a plastic spatula.'
Olaf suddely became conscious,'I know! I know!...', I looked doubtfully at the gibbering buffoon, 'Yes Olaf?'
Olaf looked down at his shoes. Or shoe, rather.'No, I don't.'
'Ok then', I groaned,'until we think of something better we'll go with the Vink's...what the FUCK was that?!'
There was a blur outside the coffee shop, a scream and then a crowd. Outside, the crowd was looking alternately between the other end of Dean Street and a figure on the ground. As the sirens came into earshot, I recognised the figure- it was a Flame Op I had worked with in the past.
'Is he dead?' Robbo asked?
Vink looked at him dead-eyed and said 'His head is actually stuffed up his own arse. What do you think?'
'Yeah but he was a Flame Op, that could be his natural state. I think the knife wound to the spine implies that he's been happier. I think I know who did this ; we better get moving'.
And on the way I told them the story of the Danish Connection.
next week: Rosenberry and Frankenstein Are Dead