Maddie steps out of the room and Fionna turns to us. “One of the files on the USB drive noted that RixoTray Pharmaceuticals is involved with transdifferentiation research. A Dr. Schatzing’s heading up the program. I think it has something to do with an anti-aging drug they’re trying to develop. Anyway, I’m not sure why any of this would have been copied onto a drive that has military-grade encryption, but at least it gives us our connection to RixoTray.”
Xavier says, “Do we know where they’re doing that?”
She shakes her head.
“Look into it,” I suggest. “See what you can find out.”
“We have threads here”—it’s Charlene—“let’s tie them together. The jellyfish research and the progeria research might tell us something.”
Xavier folds his hands on his lap. “So, Emilio was trying to find a way to live longer?”
Progeria, aging prematurely, is the opposite of what happens with the jellyfish. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it’s also hard not to acknowledge the obvious — especially when you consider the transhumanism research Emilio was doing.
“Or,” I reply, “maybe to help someone else live longer. Think progeria for a second. The implications of studying it are profound. If people’s genetic makeup can cause them to age at seven or eight times the natural rate—”
“Could the reverse be true?” Fionna interrupts, tracking right along with me. “Would it be possible, through some type of gene therapy or DNA manipulation, to program someone’s genes to cause them to age that much slower than the rest of us? Or even to reverse the effects of aging, like with the jellyfish?”
I face Xavier. “Back at the RV you mentioned xenotransplantation, genetic splicing from one species to another…”
“It’s all connected.”
“I think”—Charlene flags her hand in the air—“we’re getting ahead of ourselves a little here. We really need to find out what else is on that drive before we can figure out the next step.”
Fionna picks up her purse. “That’s my cue. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on Maddie and Mandie if I head home after lunch.”
I recall my earlier hesitancy to have them at the house by themselves. “Did you bring the USB drive with you?”
She produces it from her pocket. “I thought it might be best to bring it along. After all, someone broke into one house already looking for it — or at least we think he was looking for it.”
Great minds.
“Work here,” Xavier tells her. “I’ll feel better about it. The kids can climb, swim — there are lifeguards at the pool.”
But she shakes her head. “We didn’t bring suits.”
The suggestion that she could buy some at the hotel comes up, but she doesn’t want to be “wasteful.” He offers to ride back with her so she can pick up their suits from home, but she declines. “How about after lunch I drive back with Lonnie. He can run in and grab the swimsuits; we’ll be fine. Then the two of us can work here while the younger kids hang out.”
Xavier invites her to the box office so that he can get her family climbing wall passes and free tickets to the show tonight, she promises that she’ll bring us some lunch, and they leave with Maddie.
Hoping that we might finally get somewhere with the Feds, Charlene calls the FBI agent’s cell number from the business card he gave her earlier, but it goes directly to voicemail. She leaves a message summarizing what we’ve discovered and asks him to call her back.
At last she heads to her dressing room to get ready for rehearsal while I stand there for a moment, flipping the Morgan Dollar through my fingers processing what we’ve been talking about, trying to tie everything together.
And failing.
Eventually, I mentally shift into show mode and head to the theater.
Tomás Agcaoili passed through security in San Francisco and maneuvered through the crowds toward his departure gate for his flight to Las Vegas.
His plan: upon arrival in Vegas he would briefly visit Solomon before going to meet with Akinsanya at five. As someone who had his finger on the pulse of everything that went on in the Vegas underground, Solomon was the one person in the city who would know how to deal with Akinsanya, if necessary.
Body Doubles
On one side of the stage is the mammoth piranha tank that was constructed specifically for tonight’s climax. I’m not sure when the fish ate last. The crew is supposed to keep them well fed to make sure they don’t attack me while I’m trying to escape the straightjacket, but the fish aren’t predictable, and if they swarm in to attack, the divers we have stationed at the ready won’t likely have time to unlock the shackles on my ankles and get to me in time.
As long as there’s not blood in the water I should be fine.
The secret to magic these days is coming up with effects no one has ever seen before and doing them in a way no one could ever guess.
With the hundreds of Internet websites all sharing magic’s secrets online, and the two dozen dedicated to revealing the secrets and illusions of the most successful magicians, you need to stay ahead of the curve. As soon as one person uses his cell phone to catch the glint of the cable you’re using to help you “levitate” and posts that online, your career is over.
So we have to use something other than cable.
And tonight, in the same way, I have to pull off this effect without anyone figuring out how.
Thinking outside the box might be a cliché in the business world, but it’s your bread and butter if you’re trying to make up new effects to survive in the world of magic.
I remember one sleight of hand part of my show in the early days of my career that lasted three seconds. It took me a month practicing for nearly four hours a day before I could pull off those three seconds. But they were worth it. I got a standing ovation every time I did that effect, and it’s the one that landed me my first gig on the Strip.
When we were considering this piranha tank escape, we went through the options carefully. Houdini would get himself shackled and locked in a trunk and then tipped off the edge of a pier or a bridge. He had to pick the locks and get out of the trunk before he drowned.
I’ve done that a few times, but I didn’t want to repeat it. I wanted to push the envelope in a new direction.
Thurston would “hypnotize” a man in Indian garb, then he would lie in a clear box and they would sink that in water and put it on the side of the stage. The guy would stay there for twenty or twenty-five minutes in a state of “catalepsy.”
It was an amazing effect, but it wasn’t anything supernatural. The Indian man just knew how to take small, shallow breaths, something anyone can learn with practice, but few people are willing to put that kind of time into something they’ll hardly ever use.
Houdini was an amazing escape artist, almost certainly the best ever, and he was a pro at self-promotion, but he wasn’t a great magician. His close-up effects needed work, and when he would do shows the audience would often leave disappointed. But he was an excellent promoter. He would travel to a town and tell lies to the newspaper and they would print them, then he’d move on and do it again. Today, with the Internet, you can’t get away with that.
Thurston, though. He was a master magician, and he was the inspiration of my mentor Grayson DeVos, the man I bought my house from.
Henning used to do Houdini’s water torture escape, and he would struggle and appear to die, but they would raise a curtain over the tank so the audience didn’t have to see his body. Then a man would rush out with an axe to break open the tank, they would drop the curtain, and Henning was gone from the tank. The man with the axe turns to the audience, and it’s Henning.