“How did they do that?” I asked Xavier one time.
He just shook his head. “I have some ideas, but his effect designer was better than I am.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but regardless, we never did figure that one out.
Now, here at the Arête, there’s a platform on the other side of the tank where we’ll have two paramedics and divers in case we need them. In the tank there’s a fake, sliding coral reef and a tube, just large enough for someone to swim through, that winds behind the reef and opens up at the back of the tank.
It’s one of the most elaborate escapes I’ve ever tried, but it’s impressive, especially with the prestige at the end when I appear, as Henning did, as someone you’d never expect.
Seth Greene, my body double, is waiting backstage.
I’ve never really thought he looks that much like me when he’s not made up and isn’t wearing an identical outfit, but that’s actually a good thing. We need to keep his presence in the show under wraps. It wouldn’t serve us very well if people saw someone who looks just like Jevin Banks going backstage or coming out of the green room after the show.
“Hey, Seth.”
“Jev. Ready for tonight?”
“I think so.”
“Been practicing that breath-holding while you were gone?”
“Yes.”
Then his voice turns more serious. “Listen, I’m sorry about Emilio. Really.”
“Me too.”
“You alright?”
“I will be,” I tell him, even though dealing with the death of those close to me has never been a strong suit of mine.
Neither of us knows what to say. Finally, he takes the conversation back to tonight’s show. “So, you were cutting it close last week. The breath-holding. Seriously, you’re good? I don’t want you to drown tonight.” He tries to make the next line sound good-natured, but I can hear a seriousness there, somewhere beneath the lightness. “It would ruin the show.”
The fail is part of the effect. Escapes are always more interesting when they don’t work, and in a sense I will drown, but I assume he means that I do so only as we’ve rehearsed.
“Yeah,” I tell him, “it wouldn’t be a great way to end this week either.”
“But it might give me a new job, you know, if yours is open.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Ha. Touché.”
Nikki Manocha and Charlene leave to warm up in the room at the end of the hall that’s been set up for stretching, yoga, and dance rehearsal.
We have eight dancers in the show. They do a mixture of ballet, modern dance, and hip-hop during transitions to give us time to set up the next effect. Sometimes they dance during the effect as well, as distractions. When watching an illusionist it’s helpful to remember three things: (1) explosions are diversions; (2) assistants are distractions; (3) unnecessary movement is misdirection.
Don’t look at what the illusionist is showing you. The more time he spends proving there are no smoke and mirrors, the more you can be certain there are.
Charlene and Nikki have the same body type: pert, slim, flexible, and athletic. When I walk in, they’re doing yoga. It looks synchronized, and that’s key because they need to be able to do the same moves, at the same time, in the same way. They dye their hair the exact same color, and during the show they wear the same outfit, the same fishnet stockings, the same fingernail and toenail polish, the same earrings. Their hairstyle is identical.
All of the other magicians I’ve met who have big shows on the Strip use twins. It’s almost a given for doing teleportation effects. When you see someone disappear and reappear across the stage almost simultaneously, it’s almost always a body double or a twin.
Over the years there have been a few magicians who’ve even had a twin brother or sister and have kept it pretty well hidden, sort of like in the movie The Prestige. With the Internet it’s a lot harder to keep secrets today, but it was possible in the past.
When watching a show you need to remember that nothing you see is real. You would swear that it is real, you would bet your life that what you think just happened, happened — but yet you know it did not. It couldn’t have.
This is the game we play with the audience. A game they agree to. Audiences pay you to fool them, to play their expectations and concept of reality against them. And they’ll be entertained just as long as they’re fooled. But as soon as they know the effect, as soon as the mystery and the questions disappear, they’ll move on to the next entertainment option. You’re only as valuable to them as the secret you hold over them.
Just as always, Xavier is working with his team to make sure all the pyrotechnics are in place, that all the ropes we’re going to set on fire as timers for my escapes have been coated with the right amount of the right kind of fuel and so on.
I used to do an escape with a blade about to sever a rope that’s holding me above a bed of spikes, but then Xavier had the bright idea of lighting the rope on fire too. “That way if something goes wrong with the blades and you can’t get out, you’d still die.”
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
“No problem. Besides, the show’s more exciting when things are on fire.”
“You think every effect is better if you light something on fire.”
He eyed me. “Yeah. And?”
“Why don’t you just set me on fire?”
“I like that.” Xavier nodded. “That could work.”
“I was kidding.”
But it was too late.
And the seed for tonight’s finale was planted.
Most people have no idea how much work goes into coordinating a major live stage show, let alone one with as many lighting, sound, and stage crew cues as a magic show.
Mime, music, and magic all work well with an international audience since they’re visual art forms. You don’t have to translate anything. I like explaining myself onstage as much as I like flourishing, so I typically go for the appeal of silent effects with overlaid music.
We use musical cues when you can’t see your body double, your assistant, or the stage hands. Everything has to be as well timed as it would be for an orchestra. Only in this case, if someone misses her cue, I might end up impaled, drowned, or sawed in half.
So there’s that.
After we all gather backstage, Xavier offers a few reminders about safety, and rehearsal begins.
Target Practice
Akio Takahashi, president and CEO of Plyotech Cybernetics, got the call from Undersecretary of Defense Oriana Williamson that she was on her way to Vegas to check on the progress of the DARPA funded research that Plyotech was involved with.
“Today?”
“Yes. This evening. Seven o’clock.”
It was a Saturday. It was ridiculous to meet on a Saturday evening, especially with only a few hours’ notice. He wet his lips nervously. “Why wasn’t I told earlier?”
“I wanted this to be an impromptu visit.”
Her reply didn’t really feel right. What if he’d been out of town? What if she hadn’t been able to contact him or he simply hadn’t answered his cell?
Something else was up.
“Alright, I’ll meet you at the facility. Seven, you said?”
“Yes. I’ll see you there.”
When Colonel Derek Byrne returned to Vegas, he was greeted with the news that Heston Dembski, Dr. Malhotra’s special assistant, had killed Thad Becker.
“He’s here at Plyotech,” Dr. Malhotra said on the phone. “We were waiting for you to get back before deciding what to do with him.”