„But that wouldn’t look real.“
„Of course it would.“ He bent over a crate of equipment and pulled out a broken crossbow. It was different from the others. The cracked bow was made of wood and had no magazine.
„This one is single-fire.“ He handed it to her. „Like the one Richard Tree used for the parade stunt. The arrow bed is lined with steel, same color as the arrows. And there’s a reason for that. There’s no magazine covering the shaft. But from any distance, no one would notice if the crossbow was loaded or not. An audience only sees the weapon and the release of the bowstring.“
„This one doesn’t have a bowstring.“
„Right. But if you like, you can still shoot me with it.“
„The bow is broken, Charles.“
„Doesn’t matter.“ He bent over the box filled with scarlet capes and plucked one out of the jumble. He draped the material across his shoulders and knelt on the floor, moving into a crouch as Futura had on Thanksgiving morning. „Ready? Shoot me.“
She pointed the stringless broken crossbow at him and said, „Bang.“
Charles doubled over, and when he lifted his head again, she could see an arrow planted in his chest. His fingers covered the tip where a wound should be, and the shaft vibrated, as if it had struck him with great force. It looked too much like the real thing.
„Not bad, Charles.“ So that was all there was to it. Another cheap trick. „But that wasn’t what Oliver had in mind for the Central Park show. All those weapons were loaded by cops, three arrows in every magazine.“ And she still had a problem with that. „Only two rounds were fired in the act, right? One for the test dummy and one for Oliver. So why three arrows in every magazine?“
„Well, Max always used three arrows.“
„But Oliver never saw the Lost Illusion.“
„No, but he might’ve seen an earlier crossbow act. Only two crossbows in that one.“
„You never mentioned another crossbow illusion.“
„Emile told me about it. It’s an old routine, but no one ever did it Max’s way.“ Charles cocked the long lever at the back of a crossbow pistol and pulled the bowstring taut. Then he tied a length of ribbon to an arrow and loaded it into the magazine.
Mallory replayed Oliver’s death. On the tape, this was the crossbow that sent an arrow into Oliver’s neck.
„This illusion was an early prototype.“ Charles walked to the pedestal on the other side of the platform step and cocked a second crossbow. „Max used three arrows, but I only need one in each magazine.“ He put another ribbon-tied arrow in the magazine. This weapon would aim for the heart. „There’s no demonstration dummy in this routine.“
Mallory looked into the tilted magazine of the near crossbow. This time there was no sleight of hand, no deceit. Charles was playing with real arrows – and Emile St. John’s instructions.
„I don’t need to see it,“ she said. „Just tell me how it works.“
„Now where’s the fun in that?“ He waved her to the chair in front of the platform. „I was planning to try it out anyway. It’s all set up. Now sit down. Don’t leave your seat, or you’ll ruin it.“ He smiled. „You’re only the audience, all right? There are no manacles, so I don’t need a cop in this act.“
He touched the button to start the gears on the first pedestal. The ticking began, the wheels moved slowly, and a red-flagged peg was rising toward the crossbow trigger.
Charles pulled the monk’s hood over his head and walked over to the second crossbow to start its gears. Two pegs were rising, ticking, as he walked up the stairs. At the top of the platform, he faced the target. His arms spread wide, and the scarlet material covered the target and grazed the curtains.
The first crossbow fired and the arrow pierced the cape. Predictably, Charles was not wearing it. The material collapsed to the floor, and a long red ribbon trailed from a hole in the crumpled material to the end of the metal shaft in the target. Charles was probably standing behind the drapes. The second pedestal continued to tick.
Mallory’s head snapped right with the sound of something hitting a cardboard box. A diversion? She turned back to the platform. The cape was slowly rising off the floor, filling out, as if reinhabited. The lazy tongs spread the material in the convincing illusion of a man taking shape beneath the cape, spreading arms that were not there.
Over the loud tick of the pedestal gears, she heard the noise again, but her eyes never left the stage this time. She followed the sound as it moved behind her. Her hand was reaching for the gun; her eyes were on the red peg in the rising gear that would pull the trigger on the second crossbow.
The next crossbow fired, and she followed the flight of ribbon as it penetrated the back of the cape. But this time, Charles was inside. She saw his head go back. He cried out as he turned to face her and sank to his knees. A section of bloody ribbon extended from a spreading red stain on his chest to the arrow vibrating in the target. His hands were not covering this wound, not holding the ribbon in place. He collapsed on the stage, falling backward, his head lolled over the top step, eyes wide with the stare of the recently dead.
She left her chair and walked up the staircase, taking her own time. When she reached the top step, she sat down beside his still body, careful not to allow any spots of blood on her clothing.
„Charles? The next time you die – don’t smile as you’re going down. Real stiffs almost never do that.“ She dipped one finger into the red liquid. „And you made the blood too thin.“
He rolled his eyes toward her. „Well, it’s old blood. It was part of my Halloween costume when I was a little boy.“ He sat up with a face full of disappointment. „But other than that – “
She pulled out her revolver.
„You’re a tough audience, Mallory.“
„We’re not alone down here. Be quiet.“ She was looking into the darkness of the cavernous space all around them – a hundred hiding places. Then she heard the noise again.
„Stay here.“ She descended the stairs. The cellar was full of shadows, but none of them moved. There was no more noise until a rat darted out from the stacks of crates.
Another cheap trick.
She glanced back at Charles, planning to remind him of the rat traps. That was the last project he had foiled, contending that breaking the backs of vermin was inhumane. She aimed the barrel of the revolver in the direction of the fleeing rodent, only meaning to point out the rat was a -
„Mallory, don’t!“
„I know.“ She holstered the gun. „You think rats are charming.“ And faulty electrical wiring and housebreakers and -
„Not at all,“ he said. „But if you shoot a rodent in the back, how will you ever explain that to Lieutenant Coffey?“ He sat down on the top step with a rare deadpan expression, his best attempt yet at a poker face. „So other than my smile and the watery blood, how did you like the illusion?“
„Not bad. I couldn’t see the other crossbow magazine. There was no arrow in it, right?“
„Right, I faked the loading. But you assumed it was loaded when you saw the string release, and you saw the first crossbow shoot a real arrow.“
„You hid the second arrow under your cape.“
„Right. The ribbon wire loops from the crossbow through this.“ He removed the torn cape and opened his shirt to show her a thick metal tube wrapping around to the back of his body. „I didn’t know what the tube was for until Emile told me.“
Mallory nodded. „And you used the weight again, right? The ribbon wire was attached to it when you kicked the weight off the edge of the stage. That’s how you made the ribbon fly through the body tube. Then you caught the ribbon when it came through the tube. You disconnected the wire, wrapped it around the hidden arrow and jammed it in the target.“
„Sorry, was I boring you?“