“I got a deck of cards, if he wants to start with a few basic moves,” Balustrade said.
“We’ll dispense with the sleight of hand,” Fleck said. “P’tol P’kah has come to the Fortress of Magic to prove that he does not need a special stage or lighting to perform his miracles. He has come to you tonight to perform for you the keystone of his act.”
A woman in the crowd gasped. “The Dissolving Man?”
“The Dissolving Man,” Fleck confirmed. “In front of your eyes, P’tol P’kah will immerse himself in a tank of water, and the lid will be locked. And then in front of your eyes, he will become one with the water. He will dissolve into a cloud of bubbles. And then he will rematerialize outside the tank. I tell you all the parts to this performance now so you can watch at every step for chicanery.”
A spontaneous burst of excited applause broke out in the room.
“If this demonstration is of interest to you, I invite you to come into the main showroom now,” Fleck said. “Or you can stay here and count how many people have the five of hearts in their shoes.”
Fleck made a theatrical turn and led the way down the hallway. Chattering excitedly, the crowd of magicians, bachelor partyers, book club members, and other guests followed. Lyle Wheelock was at the head of the crowd, and he was pushing past his guest of honor to be among the first to get into the showroom.
“I don’t think your father’s present can compete with the Dissolving Man,” Gus said, gesturing down at the wrapped gift that was still in Shawn’s hand.
“You’re right. Let’s go home.”
Shawn started toward the door. Gus grabbed his arm. “What do you mean ‘home’?”
“Generally I mean that place where I keep my clothes and my toothbrush,” Shawn said. “Although in this case I think I really meant anywhere that doesn’t have magicians in it.”
“You don’t want to see how a seven-foot-tall Martian dissolves in a tank of water?”
“I’ve got a package of lime Fizzies in my kitchen,” Shawn said. “Probably pretty much the same effect.”
“Only if the Fizzie can reconstitute itself into a tablet across your kitchen. Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious about how he’s going to pull this off.”
Shawn sighed heavily. “Because it’s impossible, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“See, that’s the problem,” Shawn said. “He’s telling you he’s going to do something that’s impossible. Which means he’s figured out a foolproof way to make it look like he’s doing the impossible, while he’s really backstage, making out with a showgirl or something. So who cares?”
“I do.”
“Only because you haven’t thought it through.”
“That could be,” Gus said. “But there’s something you haven’t thought through.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve got the car keys.”
Gus turned and followed the last of the crowd down the hallway. Shawn cast a longing glance at the front door, then followed him toward the showroom.
Chapter Six
The tank was simple, a glass rectangle ten feet tall and four feet across with steel brackets reinforcing the corners and a metal lid on the top. It towered over Benny Fleck in the middle of an empty stage that was raised three feet above the showroom’s threadbare rug.
“As you can see, P’tol P’kah has nothing to hide,” Fleck said as the audience crowded the edge of the stage for a better view. “And more important, he has no place to hide. He will perform this astonishing feat directly before your eyes.”
Gus and Shawn stood at the back of the room, nearly forced against the rear wall by the crowd of spectators.
“Figured out how he’s going to do it yet?” Gus said.
“You really think this is something special, don’t you?” Shawn said.
“Five minutes ago you were cowering in fear because the defrosted Frankenstein monster was going to eat you,” Gus said. “So don’t act like you’re better than everyone else here.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” Shawn said. “I saw that you were enjoying the experience, and I decided to enhance the moment with a small performance of my own.”
“If your performance was any bigger, you’d have to change your pants.”
“It’s about committing to the moment,” Shawn said. “Now that moment is over, and all that’s left is some fugitive from vaudeville who’s painted himself green to trick the rubes into thinking he can do magic.”
“If it’s so obvious, go ahead and tell me.”
Shawn studied the tank on stage, examining the way the theatrical lighting refracted through the water in the tank, sending ripples of light across the room.
“All an illusion,” Shawn said. “There probably isn’t even water in that tank.”
The crowd fell silent as P’tol P’kah’s heavy boots rocked the stage. He stomped up beside the tank and surveyed the crowd.
“Is there anyone who doubts?” the green man said, his filed teeth bared in a grin that would cause most people to give up any suspicions very quickly. “Is there anyone here who wishes to challenge me?”
Gus nudged Shawn. “This is your chance. Go up and expose him.”
“Bear. Den,” Shawn said.
“Cow. Ard,” Gus said.
“I challenge you, you giant zucchini!” There was a bustle in the crowd and after a moment, Balustrade heaved his body onto the stage. “What are you going to do, throw me off this stage to keep me from investigating your tank?”
“I welcome your attention,” P’tol P’kah said. “You may study every inch of it.”
“You bet I will,” Balustrade said, walking around the tank. As he passed behind it, Gus could see his distorted image through the water. Balustrade finished his circumnavigation and appeared at the front. He rapped on the glass, and the sound was a damp, heavy thud.
“Are you satisfied?” boomed P’tol P’kah.
“Satisfied that you’re a fake,” Balustrade said.
“Would you like a closer inspection?”
“Do you have to ask?”
P’tol P’kah stomped off stage and came back wheeling out a set of metal stairs, the kind they used at airports too small to build Jetways. He wedged the steps against the side of the tank and motioned to Balustrade. “After you.”
Clutching the handrails, Balustrade climbed up the stairs. At the top, he peered down suspiciously at the tank’s lid. “I suppose you won’t let me open this.”
“You may do as you wish,” P’tol P’kah said. “Although I warn you, you may not be happy when you do.”
“Yeah, I’m the one who’s going to be unhappy,” Balustrade said. He knelt down on the top step, opened a latch, and, groaning under the weight, pulled back the lid. When he looked down into the tank, his face fell.
“Would you like a closer look?” P’tol P’kah had climbed the stairs behind Balustrade, and now, even standing two steps below the magician, towered over him.
Balustrade suddenly looked nervous. “No, I-”
“I insist,” the green man said, giving Balustrade a shove that knocked him off balance and sent him tumbling into the tank.
Balustrade sunk slowly to the bottom, his ponytail floating up behind him. Flailing desperately, the magician tried to turn himself right side up, but the tank was too narrow to maneuver in. His face reddening, cheeks puffed out with his last breath of air, the magician pounded feebly on the inside of the tank as if he hoped to break through.
The green man put his hands on his hips and let out a booming laugh. “Do you think he’s had a close enough look?” he shouted to the crowd.
A couple of people in the audience laughed, but most were silent as they watched Balustrade struggle to bring himself back above the water.
“Help him!” a woman in the crowd shouted. “He’s drowning in there!”
The green man peered out into the audience to see who was talking to him, cupping an ear to suggest that he couldn’t hear what was being shouted.
“What’s he doing?” Gus said to Shawn.
“Proving I was wrong,” Shawn said. “There really is water in there.”