The Bullet Trick

Johnny leaned back in his kitchen chair and started to tell me what he had in mind.

Berlin

THE SCHALL UND RAUCH’S joiner had made a fine job of the task I’d set him. The box was perfect; a shiny metallic blue, decorated with a zodiac motif of constellations and multi-ringed Saturns that would shine from the stage and draw the audience’s eyes from other distractions.

Sylvie stood on stage in the empty auditorium next to Nixie the hula-hoop girl, while I explained how the trick would work.

'OK ladies, this is a classic illusion, I am going to slice my elegant assistant Sylvie here in half, and you, Nixie, are going to be the legs of the operation.'

Nixie looked bewildered, Sylvie translated and the hula girl’s giggle followed a beat after.

'OK,' I wheeled out the box and lifted its lid, 'Sylvie this is where you go, head and hands sticking out the wee holes in this end, feet poking out the other.' Sylvie and Nixie looked at the box. 'OK?'

Sylvie nodded.

'OK.'

'Right, Nixie.' I smiled at the blonde girl. 'Unfortunately, you’re not going to get the benefit of the audience’s applause, but you are going to get the satisfaction of knowing you’ve been instrumental in successfully pulling off one of the classic illusions in the conjurer’s calendar.'

I looked at Sylvie. She rolled her eyes and started to translate. Nixie listened, her eyes widening, then collapsed in giggles, putting her hand over her mouth as if scandalised at her own amusement.

I asked, 'What did you say?'

Sylvie’s expression was innocent.

'I just repeated what you said, you’re a very funny man, William.'

There had been no awkwardness between us after our drunken celebrations. Sylvie had simply said, 'Well I guess that got that out of the way.' And I’d agreed, both of us laughing, relieved that the other wasn’t offended.

I’d wanted to ask her about the fat man. He’d called her by the wrong name, but Suze and Sylvie didn’t seem so different to me and I remembered a quick flash of panic in Sylvie’s eyes that could have been surprise, or could have been recognition. I’d kept my thoughts to myself and though I’d pulled the guts out of her at ten fifteen precisely every night for a week since, nothing had passed between us that would have scandalised even the pope’s maiden aunt. Still, the memory of Sylvie’s body stayed with me, making me glance away from her as I went onto the next bit of my explanation.

'OK, let’s go down to the stalls.' The girls followed me, chatting in German. 'So what do you see standing next to Sylvie’s box?'

'You make me sound like a puppet.'

I gave Sylvie a look, she translated my question and Nixie replied.

'Einen Tisch.'

Sylvie singsonged, 'A table.'

'Great, back up on stage.'

The girls groaned but they followed me up to where the props were standing.

'Now what do you see?'

'Ahh,' Nixie’s voice was full of realisation. 'Eine Kiste.'

I looked at Sylvie.

'A box.'

'Correct. Observe.' I opened a flap exposing the compartment in the tabletop that was hidden from the audience by the sharp black angles on its tapered-under edges, revealing that although the table was only an inch thick along its white-painted rim it was deep enough at its centre to hold a slim woman lying flat. 'You lie in here, Nixie, hidden from view. I put the box on the table and help Sylvie into it. She surreptitiously pulls her knees up to her chest and you slide your legs up through the flap on the top of the table, sticking your feet out through the foot holes in the box so the audience think that they belong to Sylvie. Then voilà, I wield my saw,' I grabbed the oversized saw lying on the ground next to me and shook it in the air generating a wobbling sound, 'and cut through the bit of balsa obligingly holding the two parts of the box together,' I started to saw through the balsa, letting them hear the metal rasp against the wood, 'until I’m able to separate the two halves,' I pushed the two ends of the fancy coffin apart, 'to reveal a head in one and wiggling feet in the other, making the crowd go crazy.' I held my arms up to the imaginary audience and grinned at the girls, but Nixie was whispering something to Sylvie, shaking her head. I asked, 'Was ist das problem?'

Sylvie sighed.

'The silly bitch says she can’t do it. She’s claustrophobic.'

Sylvie and I ran through every member of the company, but we already knew that Nixie was the only performer on staff slight enough to fit inside the tabletop.

'So that’s it then, fucked again.'

'Hey William, it’s not my fault.'

I kicked the trolley that the new box was lying on, sending it trundling towards the back of the stage.

'It was a fucking clichéd piece of crap anyway.'

Sylvie caught the trolley and rolled it back down the rake towards me.

'You’ll work it out.'

I slammed the trolley again, sending it hurtling back the way it came, not watching where it went, simply taking relief in the act of hitting something. It juddered, almost losing its load, then against all odds regained its keel, sailing into backstage.

I said, 'Fuck.'

And moved to retrieve it just as there was a gasp and Ulla came from the wings pushing the trolley away from her. I took a step forward. 'Shit, sorry.'

Ulla rubbed her arm. Her voice was high and annoyed.

'We have to be careful here.'

'Sorry, Ulla, I didn’t mean to push it so hard.'

'The stage is a dangerous place.'

'Yeah, I know, sorry.'

Ulla had a pencil stuck in her hair and a sheaf of invoices tucked under her arm. Her frown made a small crease between her eyebrows. I wondered what she’d do if I reached out to smooth it away.

'I came to see if you had finished with the stage. There are others who would like to rehearse.'

'Yeah, you may as well tell them to go ahead.'

Ulla hesitated, noticing our dejection for the first time.

'Problem?'

Sylvie took a step back and looked her up and down.

'No,' She placed her arm around Ulla’s shoulders and levelled her gaze at me. 'I don’t think so, do you, William?'

My eyes slid down Ulla’s body. But I already knew the proportions of the German girl’s figure well enough to realise that Sylvie just might be right.

Ulla grasped the simple illusion straight away.

'But this is a very old trick, the audience will have seen it many times before.'

'Not the way William’s going to do it.'

Sylvie and I hadn’t discussed the razzle-dazzle surrounding the illusion, but her confidence was inspiring.

'That’s right, it’s going to have that classic Schall und Rauch twist, a super-sexy variation on the theme.'

Ulla looked worried.

'Will I have to wear a costume?'

'No, just something comfortable you can move easily in and,' I felt the back of my neck flush, 'an identical pair of shoes and stockings to the ones Sylvie’s chosen.'

'They’re going to be darling.' Ulla had extricated herself from my assistant’s grasp but Sylvie was determined to hold her attention. 'Bottle-green fishnets with the reddest, highest, shiniest pair of kinky wedges you ever set eyes on.' She glanced at me. 'I’m borrowing them from a fetish shop in return for a mention in the programme.'

'Well done.' I turned to Ulla. 'Will you help us out?'

'I’m not a performer.'

'No performance skills required. All you have to do is lie there, stick your legs through the flap at the right time and wiggle your toes when I ask you to.'

Ulla hesitated.

I took a step forward.

'There’s no one else.'

She sighed.

'If it is necessary for the show.'

Sylvie swept her into a hug.

'I knew you would!'

Ulla freed herself and I made an effort to meet her eyes.

'Thanks, you’re a life-saver.'

I watched as Ulla made her way back down towards the office, and then turned to find Sylvie staring at me. Her voice was full of exaggerated marvel.