On the march back to the Wayside a dirge welled up from within, Omar Khayyám by way of Fitzgerald: “A flask of wine, a book of verse—and Thou beside me singing in the wilderness, and wilderness is paradise enow.”
On an empty curb at midnight, broken and destroyed, I collapsed and croaked. I crawled on hands and knees to a wall, propped myself up, and emptied the second bottle. There was a light in a lobby—my hotel. By some remaining instinct I managed to get to my room and enjoy a drunken sleep filled with nightmares.
THURSDAY
MORNING WITH THE sun back out. Chimneypots poured forth smoke and steam. From my window I watched slow trains pull into the yard by the river. Soon I was out on the street where frosted red leaves scratched along the pavement. The fresh wind snapped my mind into place and cleaned away any lingering shame from the shadowy night. I primed for action and walked to Windsor Station for a quick cup and smoke. Clear the decks and run up the colours: it’s time to attack. Jack had been bossing me, keeping his movements dark. I’d walked blind towards the enemy trench and if I kept following orders without direction of my own I’d catch shrapnel or worse. For too long Jack had twisted my tail; it was time now to do a little twisting back.
There were precious few candidates for pressuring: Brown the wee Customs man, that rat-bastard Bob, and oily Charlie the French mechanic-cum-lawyer. No, on reflection it was someone else who might provide a few answers: Harry Houdini. Jack hadn’t gone to the Medical Union by accident or merely for Smiler’s cocaine. There’d been the series of riddling questions, the unusual request for an unwritten book. If I entered at that angle and discovered Jack’s vector it might give me an inkling of the conspiracy I was now part of. Firm in my conviction I walked to the Windsor Hotel. It was near ten-thirty, earlier than the noon hour appointed for their rendezvous. I could intercept the flash, read the book or whatever it was and put it back. It was a start. At the front desk I spoke to a pockmarked clerk.
“Mr. Houdini has left a package to be collected here,” I said.
“What name, please?”
I gave the one Jack had used the night before.
“One moment, sir.”
The clerk picked up a receiver and whispered something. A moment passed in the murmuring lobby and was marked by the single chime of a bell. The clerk sneered and said: “Sir, Mr. Houdini left specific instructions that he wished to be informed the moment this package was collected. He will be with you directly.”
Merde. This was not anything I wanted part of. All I’d imagined was a peek at the book or message from Houdini Jack was after to see how it played into this malarkey. It was too late now to cause a scene ducking out. Remember Jack’s words: sheer brazen cheek.
Hell and damnation gang aft agley. What was I trying to accomplish, sniffing around the edges of his scheming like this? Parity, information, intelligence. The way he’d sicced Laura and Bob on me at the party and used me as an idle amusement: Jack was wrong. I was a free agent, unaccounted for and independent, with the power to alter events. This was something I’d forgotten while devoured by my inward world. Some message had passed between Jack and the magician and I, as always, was cut out. Later I’d been exiled from the gin party. If I was enemy, let me behave as one. Even now Jack was in all likelihood bedding a twist from the shindig whilst I waited amongst rubber plants and geraniums. Another clear bell sounded and the lift doors slid open. There was Houdini foursquare in the box. His gaze pierced yours truly and he marched straight over.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “You aren’t the man I spoke with.”
“No,” I said.
“Well, what the devil do you want? If you’re another crawler bringing warnings I advise you to push off.”
“Warnings?”
“State your business, man. I’ve no time for triflers. Mrs. Hou-dini waits upon me.”
“Mr. Houdini, I mean no offence. Please, if we might speak privately for a moment.”
A spasm of nervous constriction crossed his face and he tensed up. I fancied I saw his biceps flexing beneath the fabric of his morning coat. There was no wish on my part to tangle with the man; he was strong and a mite fearsome, though I’d a few inches and twenty-odd years on him. Houdini sighed impatiently. From so close he appeared worn, his movements stiff and pained.
“Very well,” he said, “but with some haste if you please.”
We drifted to a pair of wingbacks shielded by aspidistras from the desk. I gestured Houdini to sit and he did with an ill grace, pinching the crease of his trousers to keep their knife edge.
“Well?”
“Mr. Houdini, I came for the book.”
“Don’t be a fool. There’s no such thing. What do you want?”
“I want to understand what’s happening here. You say you’ve been warned. Was it by the man at the Union last night? The one I was with?”
“Ah! You’re an ignorant pawn. I expected better.”
“From whom?”
“From your masters! Ha! Warned, yes I’ve been warned, but it will take a power mightier than those behind your companion to stop Houdini! The truth will out, sir. The truth will out.”
“What truth?”
He barked a laugh.
“You think to draw me? Tell your masters that Houdini reveals his secrets to no man. He will not be drawn.”
“Have you been threatened?”
In Houdini’s hard glare there was a fierce suspicion.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“No one. No one of importance. I’m part of something I don’t entirely understand and beg your indulgence to allow me to ask you a few more questions.”
“Are you a reporter?”
“Lord no.”
Houdini snorted decisively.
“As I have said in the past I will have neither truck nor trade with fakers and charlatans. My exposure of the medium Margery in New York illustrates this point. Now, when I come to this fair Dominion with knowledge that may save her honour my sacred duty is to reveal the truth.”
The man’s intense manner was difficult to counter.
“You’ve learned of a false medium?”
“Far worse than some sham humbug. No, there’s a danger to this country. I provide a tit-bit for you to carry back to your masters, errand boy. When in London I learned the name of a highly placed official of your government who subscribes to superstition. Imagine the harm that may befall your people in these unsettled times, the danger to your sovereign. It is my duty to unmask these—”
“Who is this official?” I interrupted.
“Ha! Imagine my telling you! Inform your betters that none can stop Houdini, no gag, no chain, no fetter, no lock, not even death itself.”
He held me rapt, his eyes unblinking. Quick as thought now he stood and strode towards the lift’s closing doors. Their course was halted and they re-opened for him. Houdini ignored the elevator boy and entered the chamber and was gone. I remained seated, surrounded by the lobby’s confusion. Someone was watching me. There: at the front desk the pockmarked clerk pointed in my direction and with him Jack. Damnation. Jack came over and clapped his heavy hand on my shoulder.