The Magician
PROLOGUE
The magician had the huge glass tank filled to overflowing with thousands of litres of cold water, ready for the first dress rehearsal with the new line-up. He tossed the filler hose down and worked the two hinged tops back and forth, checking they fitted together, that the chains and manacles were secure on the hydraulic hoist. The magician ensured the lever operating the enveloping curtain mechanism was in working order, that the padlocks were hooked in place ready to close up and lock the artiste in place upside down and fully-immersed in the water-filled tank. Finally, he checked that the removable hinge pins were well greased and easy to slip out unnoticed prior to the escape act commencing.
All this was routine that he had performed many times in rehearsal and hundreds of times on stage, but what was happening next was anything but routine.
He descended the step ladder to the deck of the luxury liner's large laundry room, where all the thousands of towels, bedsheets, kitchen and dining hall linens were washed daily. The laundry was fortuitously positioned on a deck below the waterline, immediately below but right next to the level of the theatre stage where this magic act was to be performed as an entertainment that evening in front of an appreciative audience.
He sneezed and blew his nose at the bottom rung of the ladder, reminding himself of why he had rigged the set up for his lovely assistant to practice being the performing artiste. He shook his head and turned to the beautiful girl now sitting in the chair nearby after turning off the hose and rolling it up neatly out of sight.
"I'm ready for you now, Mavis," he spoke slowly, quietly.
The beautiful girl smiled sweetly at him as she stood up from the chair and confidently walked towards him with a bouncing gait, allowing her dressing gown to slip smoothly from her shoulders to the floor in her flaunting wake. She wore a bright white bikini, a teeny weeny bikini he couldn't help but notice, one that she hadn't worn in front of him before, in stark contrast to her lightly tanned skin, slightly turning red to gold from the few weeks of sunbathing since she had been aboard ship as it steamed through the Mediterranean Sea. Being a magician act entertainment duo, they had been secured by the cruise liner's management to tour for the six-month holiday season.
"I'm ready Moses," she smirked as she pirouetted and showed off her delicious body as she would do in the act, "I'm so looking forward to doing this for real."
"You did really well during the dry runs, Mavis," Moses admitted, "but don't get cocky, now. You've really got to hold your breath during the first curtain phase and that water is dammed cold."
"I was holding my breath throughout the dry runs, without taking a midway breathe and I could easily manage another half minute —"
"Look, we're going to have enough audience anticipation with their hearts in their mouths after we act out my bad cough and you insist on filling in for me instead of disappointing the audience —"
"And they'll be suckered into demanding that I strip down to my skivvies to do it. What do you you think of my swimwear, Moses, I picked it out specially for you from the ship's gift shop this morning."
"Yes, well, you look spectacular. To be honest, I think that outfit's for sunbathing, Mave, it looks like it might go transparent when it gets wet."
"Really?" Mavis smirked, "I would never have guessed. But it does look less planned as an outfit compared to the other three showy costume changes during the act. Anyway, you did say this was a closed rehearsal and you banned the crew from seeing us."
"I did."
"I've something a little less 'showy' I can fall back on, if this doesn't work," Mavis giggled, "at least you'll find out if the carpet and curtains match."
"Well, Mave, you're a very beautiful young woman and whatever you're wearing the crowd'll love you."
"And what about you, Moses? We've worked together six weeks and you don't date the cruising ladies, even though they're begging you for it night after night, and you've never touched me. I know you look, so you're clearly not queer."
"No, I'm a normal red-blooded male," Moses nodded slowly, "One-night stands really don't appeal to me, Mave, not any more. Besides, although you're easy on the eye and you're a really sweet girl too, the best assistant I've had by a long chalk, but you're off limits all the while I'm old enough to be more than double your age and that's too old for any relationship."
"Really? You think?" Mavis started one tiny bare foot after the other on the step ladder, two steps and her head was level with his. She ran an index finger down his jaw until she gripped his chin with thumb and forefinger and kissed him as softly as a snowflake on the lips. "And I hope you've noticed that haven't dated any of the on-board Romeos either. So, boss-man, why do you think that is?"
She kissed him again, harder this time and bit his lower lip before sashaying her way up the ladder, her rear view absolutely mesmerising.
Moses looked frozen to the spot looking up as his ascending assistant.
"Hey, these chains and padlocks don't do themselves up, Honey," she purred from the top, "you do want me to look secure and completely at your mercy, right Mo?"
"Er, y-yes. Yes I do."
CHAPTER 1
THE SHOPPING CENTRE
The old man looked to be almost on his last legs as he walked with the aid of a stick from the outside into the open thoroughfare of the enclosed town centre shopping centre. Under the weatherproof cover of the huge glass dome sheltering the two levels of shops, customers were able to seek their purchases in relative if crowded comfort. He took off his ancient leather hat and shook off the fresh rain drops from the rim before looking around and checking his bearings. He looked as if he hadn't been here for some time.
The feint upward curl to his lips seemed to register the faintest impression of satisfaction as he noticed that the elevators and escalators were running, probably pleased that he wouldn't have to use the stairs if he needed any of the stores on the upper floors.
He stopped perusing his surroundings when his eyes alighted on a young man performing card tricks in front of a small audience of mostly children and parents, maybe a few silver-haired grandparents in the mix too. The old man's head slightly nodded as if recognising something from his past and then he shuffled forward towards the impromptu street entertainment.
Regular shoppers at the mall were accustomed to a wide range of performers using this area of space to entertain and amuse passers by. Anyone willing to pay a small annual licence fee to the council could book the space; unlicensed performers were swiftly moved on by the shopping centre security.
The illusionist was a young man with a scruffy week-old beard and longish tousled red hair, wearing casual street clothes. He had an open honest face and attractive smile, the sort of face that looked trustworthy. He had placed a beanie hat on the floor for the reception of coin donations and behind the hat her performed card tricks for the passing shoppers, some of them pausing long enough to watch one trick, others a short series of them.
The old man watched a couple of tricks and smiled, as if he enjoyed the young man's performance, appreciated his skills and his easy rapport with the crowd, particularly the children, who looked fascinated.
His current trick, the old man noticed, was the simple "palm the controlled card" trick which he would finish by plucking the very card selected by the punter from his trouser pocket.
One of the kids in the audience selected a card, and showed the 3 of clubs to the rest of the audience, before the illusionist returned it to the pack. The performer shuffled the pack, skilfully controlling the position of the selected card, revealing to the punter and the audience that the selected card was neither on the top or bottom of the pack and then he reached into his trouser pocket to delicately pick out with thumb and forefinger a card with its back to the audience.
The old man smiled more broadly at this point and made the smallest of gestures with his gnarled index finger of his free hand that wasn't holding onto his walking stick.
The illusionist revealed the card to the expectant audience, most of whom giggled at the result. The illusionist turned it around to look at it.
It was the Joker card, although the illusionist really had no idea what the selected card was, he had never seen it, but he knew with absolute certainty that there were no jokers in his deck of cards, in any of his decks of cards. He looked back at the smiling audience.
"This is not the card?" he asked.
"No!" several people replied as well as the disappointed kid who had picked out the original 3 of clubs. The kid really wanted to be impressed, after all, he had stuck his neck out and ventured forward to volunteer to be the illusionist's temporary assistant for this trick. Several couples and individuals in the small crowd turned away, including the old man, who waved his hand at drug illusionist as he continued his walk towards the escalators.
The illusionist looked at the card again. His eyebrows twitched as he recognised the card.
"Wait!" he cried to the small audience that he was rapidly losing, "Is this the card?"
He turned the card over to reveal to the crowd still watching, that it was no longer the Joker but the 3 of clubs.
The kid that picked the card and been watching the scene intently, jumped up in the air, "Hey, that's way cool!" he yelled, his face full of toothy grin. Then with quiet awe the kid asked the illusionist, "How'd you do that, mister?"
"Magic, kid, pure magic."
Most of those shoppers that had turned away for a moment, turned back. They had all seen the 3 of clubs being selected, then the flourished Joker, before finally the 3 of clubs reappeared again. He now had their attention. Coins and a couple of notes appeared in his hat, by generous hands, not by magic.
The illusionist noticed that the old man with the walking stick had never looked back, the only one of his audience not to.
The illusionist's eyes narrowed. He had seen that Joker, that unexpected and impossible Joker, something that never happened before, couldn't happen, ever since he had perfected and started showing this trick in public. This trick was a reliable standard. He knew his cards and his audiences and that old man was the only variable in the stack.
