"Sherlock Moriarty?" Chewing on this unfamiliar name, Caspars glanced at Ian beside him in surprise, a little playfully, "When did you change your boss?"
Although he had drank a lot today, Kaspars still clearly remembered that this big boy who called himself "Old Man" had been serving a tall private detective, at least that was the case last time he came to the party.
Ian, who was teased, first glanced at Klein, then adjusted his expression, took out a few coins from his pocket and placed them on the bar.
"One more beer. Isn't it normal for people like me to change bosses?"
After hearing the explanation of the big boy opposite, Kaspars, who had always believed in not caring about the identity of his customers unless necessary, groaned, poured another glass of beer with a groan, and pushed it along the not-so-smooth bar.
Ian.
Seeing that they were speechless for a moment, Klein observed the expressions of the two people and took over the conversation at the right time, with a mellow voice:
"Heh, something happened to Detective Zerrell. I just came to Backlund and I don't know much about the local situation. I just need Ian who is more familiar with this aspect."
"I heard that you can buy firearms here that are not officially registered?"
After hearing this, Caspars, who was originally lacking in interest, suddenly became sober. He stood up and looked around. After finding that no one was paying attention, he frowned slightly and said to Klein and the two in a low voice:
"follow me."
After that, the old man, who was wearing a linen shirt and whose legs seemed not very agile, limped away from the bar with his hands on his body and walked slowly to the side of the bar.
Klein and Ian looked at each other, and when his assistant nodded, he followed slowly and followed to a wooden door with a bottom stained with oil.
Caspars, who was dressed slovenly and made the sound of metal clanking all the time when he walked, put his right hand into his trouser pocket and rummaged around for a while before taking out a faded brass key and clicked it.
The wooden door opened with a sound.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
The thin inferior wooden door was opened, and a dark yellow billiards room gradually appeared in everyone's sight. Wooden cues with faded tops were placed randomly, and the choking smell of smoke lingered in the not-so-small room.
.
"Close the door when you come in." The hideous scars on his face were stacked together with the movements of his mouth when speaking. Casper turned back and warned him. His cloudy eyes glanced at Klein up and down, and then he slowly turned towards the table tennis table.
Walk sideways into the room.
Klein, who was glanced at by the other party, didn't pay attention. He smiled gently, nodded, and closed the wooden door behind him that didn't feel very strong. He pulled it hard.
"I thought we could negotiate this kind of business outside?"
He looked at the environment inside the billiard room, his eyes constantly passing over the objects in it, the chairs neatly arranged on the walls, the specially placed wine racks, and the glass wine glasses that although they had been cleaned, were still yellowish... This
Everything shows that this rather small room should be specially used to discuss similar business.
Caspars, who was wiping the wine bottles on the wine rack and preparing to pour himself a glass of renzi, snorted disdainfully, his big red nose trembling.
"How do I know if there are some blind little bastards out there? If they tip off the police, I think I can just prepare to sell the bar and run away."
"But essentially you still lack strength." Klein, who played Sherlock Moriarty, casually pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, and his plain ice-blue eyes reflected the figure of the half-century-old man in front of him.
Ignoring Ian's surprised gaze, he said with a smile: "As the person in charge of an underground channel, you don't have your own backer. This is simply a big joke."
Slowly, Kaspars turned his body, his half-closed eyes lurking with anger, and silently stared at this middle-aged man he had never seen before. After staring for a long time, he slowly exhaled a breath and spoke slowly.
road:
"What exactly do you want to buy? Tell me the model number."
It seems that he really has no backer...
As a "clown", Klein not only has the ability to control his own expressions, he can also interpret more content through other people's micro-expressions to a certain extent.
"A high-power special revolver, with fifty rounds of ammunition and twenty rounds of normal-sized ammunition that can be adapted."
Among them, the powerful special revolver was prepared for Klein himself, and the twenty rounds of normal bullets were because he planned to use the gun he got from Detective Zerrell as a backup and prepare two different types of ammunition for himself.
Bullet marks.
"Four pounds and three sulers." Kaspars breathed a sigh of relief and quickly quoted the price, "This is definitely more expensive than a normal weapons store. You don't want a registered gun. Hehe, this requires a certain amount of responsibility.
risks of."
"That's reasonable." Klein smiled slightly, took out the five 1-pound bills he had prepared from his trouser pocket, counted out four and handed them to the other party.
Caspars, who had just been offended and was still a little upset, didn't say anything. He just mechanically took the banknotes handed to him, checked the authenticity of two of the banknotes, and then nodded slightly.
"Wait here, I'll get the goods for you."
While stuffing the banknotes into his pocket, he moved his legs that were not very agile, and limped to open the door.
"Wait a minute." Klein, who had a mature temperament and a steady appearance, stopped him. His ice-blue eyes were hidden behind his black-rimmed glasses and he said thoughtfully, "Do you know about the Extraordinary?"
His right hand was resting on the brass handle of the wooden door, and Kaspars, who was holding his round head, frowned slightly. The hideous scars and deep wrinkles were mixed with each other, and he said in a hoarse voice:
"What do you want to do?"
"I advise you not to pay attention to that aspect. Not everyone has a good life."
Although his words were full of accusations and warnings, Klein read a kind of exhortation, similar to the advice given by elders to drug addicts who want to try drugs.
"Please don't be nervous, I don't want to cause trouble." Klein shook his head slightly, glanced sideways at Ian, who had been silent since entering the room, and snapped his fingers flexibly with his right hand, creating a ball of light blue
The spiritual flame disappeared in an instant, "I just came to Backlund and wanted to find some similar gatherings. Ian said you have channels for this."
Caspars, who was originally full of momentum, was suddenly startled when he saw this, and then quickly retracted his arm, and his cloudy eyeballs showed a trace of alertness and fear.
"I do know of a gathering of that kind of people, but I am not the convenor there. I can only help introduce it, but I cannot guarantee its success."
"No problem, I just need someone to introduce me." Klein replied casually, seemingly confident.
This time, the experienced Kaspars did not speak, but turned the handle directly, walked out of the door, and returned here carrying a box ten minutes later.
"Unfortunately, the assistant of the old gentleman who hosted the party is not here today." As soon as he entered the door, Kaspars said to Klein, who had finished a glass of Southwell beer, "This is the weapon you want.
"
"But I will take you there next time I have a party. Of course, there is no guarantee of success." Seeing Klein's questioning look, Kaspars immediately added, and then glanced at the man who was silently drinking beer.
Ian, then said, "The 'old man' should know where the old gentleman's party time will be written."
He had been there for nearly ten minutes just now. Maybe the so-called assistant was nearby. But maybe he was afraid that I was an official Beyonder, so he didn't show up directly, but used this roundabout method?
Klein nodded slightly, took the box from Caspars, opened the lid, and roughly inspected the special revolver and a total of seventy rounds of ammunition. He was very satisfied, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
"That's not a problem. I'll be here on time next week."
After saying that, he waved back. Ian, who was holding the wine glass, quickly stood up and followed Klein out of the billiard room.
Behind them, Kaspars was still standing in the billiard room, leaning on the door frame, watching the two people, one big and one small, push open the black wooden door, then he slowly breathed a sigh of relief, turned around and walked inside.
...
So familiar feeling?
Having already hidden the special revolver he had just bought on his body, and just about to discuss with Ian how to prepare dinner that night, Klein suddenly had an idea and followed the guidance of his spiritual intuition, subtly turning his gaze in another direction.
Standing under the Iron Gate Street sign, with most of his figure shrouded in shadow, Klein looked at the door of the Brave Bar, his dull eyes slightly widened.
It's the "Rose Bishop"!
With the night vision brought by his spiritual vision, Klein could clearly see the young man and woman who were about to push open the heavy door.
I saw the face of the young man responsible for leading the way was full of dejection, his eyes were drooping lifelessly, and there was a faint circle of black around them. At first glance, he looked like the type who often stayed up late.
The other person next to him, although his skin was pale, had an active expression and looked very curious about everything he looked at. It was the "Bishop Rose" who had killed Detective Zerrell in front of Klein earlier!
Are they regulars at this bar too?
Klein quickly glanced at the confused Ian next to him, then eliminated the delusions in his mind, grabbed the skinny boy's wrist, and without saying the reason, turned into a side alley in a slight panic.
, and headed straight for the middle of the street where there were more people and denser lights.
"Rose Bishop" has an even greater advantage in the shadows!
At the door of the bar, Helen, whose blood-red eyes kept wandering around the tall and strong man beside the black wooden door, was suddenly startled, and her eyes suddenly focused on the man's chest, her expression a little dull.
Snapped!
Evan, who was beside her, patted her on the top of her head, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her into the bar before her friend made the strong man at the door cry.
"What were you doing just now?" Evan frowned, and the fingers tapping on Helen's wrist tightened, and he quickly walked to the bar that the bartender had just cleaned up, and ordered two beef dishes.
Helen, whose wrist was still held, raised her wrist slightly, pushed back the scattered hair, and said in an inarticulate voice:
"Nothing, it just seemed like a familiar smell just now."