Big fella, said Magurk, beckoning to Starx. Come with me for a sec.
Starx stood, bowed, and followed the Special Professor out of the room.
The Mayor spoke: Where is the magician.
Illustrationist, corrected Wagstaffe.
We have no idea, said Griggs.
No idea? said the Mayor. Not the answer I was looking for. He’s just gone, poof, like the — like the fuggin bridge?
To be fair, Mrs. Mayor, said Griggs, Raven never told us how things were going to work, just his basic schedule. Our job was largely site logistics.
The Mayor opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by growling from the other side of the wall — then a dull whumping sound and Magurk’s pennywhistle voice shrieking, You like that, fatty? There was a pause, an exchange of words — Olpert thought he heard Starx say, He’s all right — a slap, another whump, and Magurk was back with Starx trailing after him, looking dismayed.
Magurk reassumed his place among the HG’s: Sorry about that, me and the big fella here got things under control. Isn’t that right, big fella?
Starx sucked his teeth.
So, continued the Mayor, despite shutting down the north shore to traffic, you didn’t know the bridge was going to disappear. Nor did you have any idea that he’d disappear. And now — you’re as lost as me.
Yes, said Griggs.
You pretty much nailed it right there, said Wagstaffe, beaming.
But your men were watching him! They didn’t notice anything? Did they help him escape? Did the stage have trapdoors?
He doesn’t use trapdoors, muttered Starx.
Helpers don’t speak until told, said Magurk. Do we have to get the ducktape?
The Mayor eyed Magurk as if he were a slug she’d found in her salad, then spoke to Griggs: Who were the men in charge of Raven?
Him, Starx, said Griggs, pointing. And the redhead — Bailie.
Hi, said Olpert.
Raven works alone, said Starx, and we weren’t ever privy —
Both of you! screamed Magurk. Silentium!
I don’t care who talks, said the Mayor. I just want to know what’s going on.
Everyone looked around the room at everyone else, but no one said anything.
Wagstaffe chuckled. Maybe it really was magic?
You hear that? the Mayor asked Griggs. Was it magic, Babbage?
Whoa, Mrs. Mayor, said Wagstaffe, that’s the Head Scientist you’re talking to. Patronyms, please!
Well, said Magurk, something made the bridge disappear. And your legs —
Griggs held up a hand to silence them both.
The Mayor scrubbed her eyesockets with the heels of her hands. Then, blinking, she looked from one High Gregory to the next: Wagstaffe (grinning), Griggs (ineffable), Magurk (nostrils whistling), Favours (sleeping), and Noodles, who had yet to speak, lips pursed within a bristly white goatee shorn into a perfect square. He stared woodenly at the Mayor, perhaps waiting to glimpse whatever hid behind her.
What about you, sir? Mr. — the Mayor checked her notes — Sobolin?
Noodles nodded once, slowly.
This one doesn’t say anything? the Mayor said.
Noodles is judicious, said Reed, bowed his head, apologized for speaking.
The Mayor turned to Starx. Stars, is it? Billy? What. Happened.
Starx eyed Magurk.
Speak, said Griggs.
Mrs. Mayor, said Starx, we weren’t assigned to do much more than make sure Raven was comfortable and that he got around to his events. In this city there’s not much you have to worry about security-wise, which is such a testament to the NFLM’s fine work —
The Mayor made an on-with-it gesture.
Starx continued: Maybe we haven’t considered that this might all be part of the trick. Him disappearing, I mean. As in, there might be more to come.
Smoke and mirrors, said Wagstaffe, laughing. No one else laughed.
Tell me, Mr. Starx, said the Mayor, if we don’t find this magician, am I going to have to see a doctor about my legs?
Starx caught Olpert sneaking a peek beneath the table and elbowed him in the ribs. His partner buckled, breath escaping in a woof.
Fug if it’s fair we’re being blamed for this, said Magurk, smacking the table with a hairy paw. Best event the city’s ever seen. You ask people — he gestured vaguely at the surface — and they’ll tell you they had the time of their lives last night.
Favours brayed. Olpert looked at him, expecting more: but the old man’s head slumped to his chest, back into catatonia.
Griggs took a flat from the tray, nibbled a corner. I think, Mrs. Mayor, what we’re trying to tell you is that last night was about giving something back to the people, and we did that. We, Mrs. Mayor, did that. We made it happen — we funded the whole thing, we organized it, we staffed it, and we made sure it went off without a hitch.
Without a what? The Mayor’s voice was shrill. How about the teeny-weeny hitch that I can’t walk? And, oh right, the other small hitch that the person responsible is missing? And the other as-of-yet-unrelated-but-it-doesn’t-take-a-genius-to-do-the-math hitch that our artist laureate’s memorial statue is also missing. And, oh! I almost forgot! That other barely-worth-mentioning hitch — anyone? Anyone? Allow me: Guardian Bridge is gone. It — the Mayor tapped the tabletop with each word — Is. Not. There.
She was on a rolclass="underline" And I’m sorry, event? You make it sound like this was just a way to fill a weekend. Have you appleheads completely forgotten that the whole thing was supposed to be commemorative? Or was that never on your radar? It’s not called a Silver Jubilee for the pretty name. There’s, oh, a certain little park we’re meant to be celebrating. A little park that transformed the city? Twenty-five years ago? A little park that is going to be here long after your stupid magician goes flying away in his helicopter.
The helicopter, said Noodles.
A miracle! said the Mayor. He speaks! He was listening!
Oh, the Imperial Master always listens, said Griggs.
I listen to all kinds of things, Noodles purred.
His sudden animation made Olpert uneasy. The room was already cryptlike enough, and now a corpse had leapt up off the slab to speak.
What are you thinking, Noodles? said Wagstaffe.
I think, said Noodles, that if Raven’s helicopter is still here, then he’s on the island.
Touch green, said the Mayor.
Quiet there, said Magurk. Noodles is speaking.
What else, Noodles?
The boy.
Which boy, Noodles?
The boy that was onstage. We must find that boy. He saw something.
And the Imperial Master bowed his head.
Mr. Noodles has spoken, said the Mayor. Amen and hallelujah.
The boy though, yes, said Griggs. Gip, was it? Goode?
Sorry, Griggs, just one second here, said Magurk. Can we backtrack for a moment? I resent the insinuation, Mrs. Mayor, that our organization doesn’t value civic pride.
Don’t talk to me about civic pride! I was born here. This is my city.
And I wasn’t? yelled Magurk. And, I’m sorry, whose city is it?
Special Professor, please, cautioned Griggs.
But the Mayor was riled. You care about this city? she screamed, almost levitating off her dessert cart, neck strained into sinuous cords. Then where is he? Where is he!