Off the Rails

∨ Off the Rails ∧

50

The Way Ahead

The detectives were standing in the only magic shop actually situated in the London Underground system. Davenports Magic Emporium had existed for decades opposite the British Museum, but had now moved to one of the dead-end tunnels beneath Charing Cross Station. Few commuters know of its existence – why would they? – but its crimson curtains hid a world of misdirection, deception and amazement.

Realising that card tricks were not his forte, Arthur Bryant was shopping for something bigger.

“What are you looking for?” asked May.

“I’m not sure,” Bryant replied, looking around. “Perhaps I could saw a girl in half, produce doves from unlikely places or explode my landlady.” Alma was hosting a charity lunch for the women from her church, and he was keen to provide her with a magic act, whether she wanted one or not.

Daphne, formerly Radiant Lotus Blossom, assistant to the Immortal Mysterioso (available for weddings, bar mitzvahs and children’s parties) came over to demonstrate an illusion. “How are you with rabbits, Mr Bryant?” she asked. “I had to give up the old act because I put on a bit of weight and got stuck in the Cabinet of Swords a few times,” she confided, dropping a startled bunny into a glittery tube and running a sabre through it. “You can do this with a small child, providing they’re not easily moved to tears.”

“I don’t think he should practise on anything living,” said May. “They might not stay living for long.”

“And then of course the Immortal Mysterioso turned out not to be immortal after all. Bowel cancer. So I put away my spangly tights and came to work here.” Daphne held up the gold canister to prove that nothing had actually penetrated the rabbit. “It works on cats, too. Especially if you don’t like them. Could I interest you in X-ray goggles?” She pulled out what appeared to be a diving helmet with rotating spirals over the eye-holes. “Very popular for mind-reading acts.”

“You always accuse me of being a bad judge of character,” said Bryant, poking May in the ribs, “but Theo Fontvieille bothered me from the moment I met him. He was too gaunt, too energetic. He made light of everything, acting as if nothing in the world ever touched him, but behind the banter there was a terrified child, screaming in the dark.”

“That’s true, the first time I laid eyes on him he left me feeling uneasy,” May agreed. “But he kept his nerve, bluffed his way through and almost got away with it.”

Bryant shook his head sadly. “I thought I’d finished my learning, but apparently not. Human nature is like an iceberg, mostly hidden from view. Imagine the terror of waking up every morning and remembering who you are, wondering how on earth you’re going to get through the day.”

“You could say that of Mr Fox,” added May. “Or even of Mac. All of them were haunted.”

“Well, those two were damaged by irreversible childhood traumas. Mr Fox couldn’t resist sending me a note, even though he knew it might bring us a step closer. Theo, though – he’s the most interesting. I honestly think he suffers more than any of them. Every time he wakes, he realises afresh that he has no soul, nothing inside that really cares for anyone or anything. You meet people like him all the time, the desperate players trying to cut one final deal that will make them rich and allow them to keep their kids in private schools.”

“Perhaps I could just intervene?” said Daphne, trying to break up what sounded to her like a very depressing conversation. “We’ve got something new in involving a blowtorch and half a dozen squirrels that will make your eyes stand out like chapel hat-pegs.” She ran its instructions seductively up her arm.

“Self-preservation is a very strong instinct,” May told Bryant. “Theo was quite happy to murder his friends if it meant he would survive. It’s almost as if he thought they wouldn’t mind giving up their lives for his.”

“That’s just arrogance,” Bryant replied. “He genuinely thinks he’s worth more than the others. But at night the truth must surely rise to the surface and terrify him.”

“Put your finger in here,” urged Daphne with a faint air of desperation. It had been a slow morning. Bryant did so distractedly, and she slammed down the guillotine on two carrots and the detective’s digit.

“I’m not so sure Theo has quite that level of self-realisation. He’s the kind of man who’ll go to jail and write endless newspaper articles about the experience afterwards. I wonder if that’s better – choosing never to wake from the dream.”

“Life is all a dream,” said Bryant, smiling gently. “A wonderful, wonderful dream. The object is to make everyone else who shares it with you as happy as possible.” He slowly opened his hand. In his palm was the sparkling diamond ring.

“An admirable sentiment,” May agreed, smiling back at his old friend. “Make sure you drop that into the evidence room. Come on, the weather’s supposed to clear up this afternoon. Let’s get out into the sunshine while we can.” He turned back to the disappointed magic assistant. “Thanks for the demonstration, Daphne. I think my colleague is going to try a different act. Perhaps he’ll take up tap dancing.”

They left the magic shop arm in arm, laughing.