Real Magic (19 page)

"You're sure?"

This gave Lucy pause. He could see on her face that she understood they were talking about something more serious than a children's book and a fanciful question, but she did not know what exactly and that made her question her own answer. In the end, though, she nodded. "I don't know if it's the right thing to say, but it's the truth. I wouldn't want to live in Oz."

Duncan felt the tightness in his chest loosen. "Thank you," he said. Despite how much he had come to care for her, he knew that his fantasy of her coming to 2013 with him was nothing more than that — a fantasy. He simply had to enjoy the time he had left with her while he focused on getting back to Oz.

Sitting up, he glanced off to the right and saw Freddie standing by a tree. His skin chilled and he looked away.

"Who's that?" Lucy asked.

"Nobody."

"Isn't he one of Nelson Walter's men?"

"Maybe. I think so. I'm done eating. Let's get back to the library and see what we can find."

"Don't do that. We were having a nice time, and you were actually talking with me. I didn't understand all of it but you were talking. Why should seeing that man change anything? Unless you're tied up with him?" A cold look came over her face. "How exactly did you get those jobs for you and Vincent?"

"Lucy, we're not going to talk about this."

"Don't you dare shut me off. We're talking about my brother. Is he in serious trouble? What did you get him caught up in?"

"Vincent's fine. He's not caught up in anything."

"Then what is it? Tell me."

Duncan's eyes narrowed on Freddie. He hated closing off Lucy but what else could he do? He had to stay focused — find Verido, get home, don't screw up.

Lucy threw the picnic back into her back and stood. "Duncan Rose, you're horrible."

"Please, Lucy —"

"I've given you every chance and you still act this way. You think I'm going to judge you because of Nelson Walter? I don't care about that. I want to protect Vincent but I don't care about a hoodlum like Walter. Every day people are losing all that they have. We've all got to do whatever we can to survive. But what I do care about is the fact that you seem to like me yet you turn cold on me as fast as you turn warm. I'm not the kind of girl who takes that kind of nonsense. So, Mr. Rose, make up your mind. Figure out what it is you want, and if it's me, then tell me." She stomped off four paces, halted, and turned back. "Don't take too long. I won't wait forever."

Duncan watched her leave, wishing he could explain. But a broken heart for her would be better than breaking her entire concept of the universe. Some pains were never meant to be handled.

"Okay, Freddie," he said, knowing the brute had to have approached. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Walter would like to see you."

"Of course, he would."

 

When Duncan stepped off the elevator,
he looked to the right out of habit. A woman stood in the doorway at the end. She had a classic, old world weariness about her as if she had only just arrived in the United States. She carried a child on her hip and stared at him with pity. As he turned away, heading toward Walter's office, he heard the woman speak softly in Italian.

His instincts fired off warnings with machinegun speed. Things were bad and he wanted to heed the warnings in his head, but he failed to see how he could avoid any of this. If he could take on Freddie, break free, and catch the elevator before the operator sent it down, he would buy a little time. Freddie gave a firm push forward — enough to smother any illusions Duncan had of a heroic escape.

When Freddie opened the office door, he kept an iron grip on Duncan's shoulder. It was a smart move because what Duncan saw made him want to risk everything to get out of there. He even stepped back, but Freddie had no trouble pulling him into the room.

Nelson Walter filled up the open doorway behind his desk. He rested a golf club on his shoulder. His jacket had been hung on the coat rack along with his hat, and his shirt sleeves had been rolled up, revealing hairy, gorilla arms. Dark, cold eyes narrowed in on Duncan.

"Congratulations on joining the magic club," Walter said, sheer rage tapping underneath a stoic exterior. "I knew you could do it."

"Thank you." Duncan's voice died before he finished his few words.

"I wanted to say I'm proud of you, but instead of coming over here and reporting in to me of your success, I have to send Freddie looking all over town for you."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean any disrespect."

"That's funny, because you've done a lot of disrespectful things. You didn't come to me when you were supposed to, you haven't given me anything but one card trick, and you went out dating that girl again even though you knew I didn't want you distracted by her. Or are you going to suggest that even after you got in the club, you somehow were using her for even more secret club information?"

Walter walked around the desk in a deliberate pace. Each step closer filled Duncan with an urge to rush for the door.

"Please, Mr. Walter, I was following a lead on a trick, and I wanted to be sure about it before —"

Walter's hand moved so fast, Duncan did not even realize he had been struck until he hung over the edge of the chair and his face stung. Blood spotted the floor. Duncan's nose throbbed and a quick touch proved that this was the source of the blood. He tried to stand but the room swirled around him.

"Help that bastard," Walter said.

Freddie got under Duncan's arms and hoisted him up. It took another half-minute before Duncan could stand without assistance.

With his head clearing, Duncan said, "I have a trick to show you."

"Really? You suddenly have a trick?"

"Please. I'm trying to co-operate."

Walter grabbed Duncan by the chin and looked upon him with dead eyes. "This better be a good trick, or I'll have Freddie beat you while I get warmed up in the back room. Then you'll find out the other kind of tricks I know."

As Walter strolled back around his desk, Freddie escorted Duncan's unsteady body into the stiff guest chair. Duncan needed a trick and none of the ones Morty and the gang knew would suffice. This had to be better than the trick he had shown Walter before but it couldn't be something so advanced as to be near-impossible for the time period.

"I'll need a deck of cards," he said. While Freddie obliged, Duncan's mind raced through one trick after another, rejecting them as fast as he could think of them. This had to be impressive enough to save his life. His numbing nose promised as much.

A new deck of Bicycle playing cards thumped on the desk. Walter slid the deck closer to Duncan. "I'm waiting."

Duncan picked up the deck and fumbled with the seal on the flap. "I-I'm sorry. I'm having a little trouble here." Nerves, not brilliant stalling, caused this, but he took advantage of the extra time. Walter signaled for Freddie to open the deck. Freddie produced a switchblade from his coat and let it snick open in front of Duncan. After he cut open the deck, he made sure to linger the blade under Duncan's bloody nose for a moment.

Walter's thick arms crowded the desk as he leaned in. He looked like he would whisper a threat, but a sliver of his anger shot out, instead. "Now show me a fucking trick or so help me on a stack of King James, you'll regret it."

The name
James
hit Duncan's brain with lightning. It connected with the name Stewart James, a magician from the 30s who had a trick that fooled many magicians back then. He developed it around 1936, but Duncan figured a couple years earlier wouldn't matter — especially when considering the alternative.

"Oh, I forgot," Duncan said. "I also need paper and pencil. I'm sorry." He pulled out the deck and made a show of shuffling the cards up while waiting for Freddie to handle this latest request. Normally the trick required a tiny bit of prep before presenting it to a spectator, but Duncan doubted he would be given an opportunity alone. However, Freddie came to the rescue.

The big thug did nothing more than place the paper and pencil on the desk, but his bulk blocked Duncan from view for an instant. Without any difficulty, Duncan palmed the cards he needed, and he was ready.

"I'm going to write a prediction on this paper." When he had finished, Duncan folded the paper. "I'll put this right between us, so there's no way I can change what I've written. That's my first prediction." He then handed the deck to Walter. "Go ahead and shuffle as much as you want."

Walter hesitated, but Duncan saw the spark of interest ignite. The man might be ruthless, but he also loved a good trick. He wanted to see this.

"We're going to play a little game," Duncan went on. "One of us will get black cards and the other gets red. You decide."

Walter continued shuffling. "I'll take red."

"Red it is. I'm black. Now, you keep the deck, and I want you to turn over the top two cards. If they're both red, you keep them in a pile in front of you. If they're both black, you put them in a pile in front of me. And if they're one of each, just hand them to me and I'll put them back in the card box. Keep doing that until you reach the end of the deck. Okay?"

Walter nodded as he watched Duncan's hands carefully. "I do all this?"

"Yup. I won't touch the deck."

With an impressed nod, Walter began. The first two cards were the Ace of Hearts and the Seven of Diamonds. "These are mine, right?"

"Correct."

The next two cards were also both red, so Walter kept those. Then came one of each color which went in the box as a discard. A pair of black cards went to Duncan.

About halfway through the process, Duncan said, "By the way, if you want to reshuffle the cards you have left, you're welcome to do so. Anytime you want to shuffle more, you may."

The right corner of Walter's mouth lifted. This little addition had him hooked. He shuffled the cards and continued through the deck, shuffling every so often. When he finished, he looked up at Duncan with a challenge in his eye —
make this good.

"Please pick up each pile and count how many cards are in the red pile and how many are in the black pile."

Walter did so. "Fourteen red and ten black."

"Interesting," Duncan said and unfolded his prediction. The paper read:
There will be four more red cards than black cards.

"Is he right, boss?" Freddie asked. That gave Duncan a burst of confidence. Getting somebody observing from the sidelines interested was always a good sign.

"Yeah, he's right. But there's lots of ways he could've done that."

"I'm not done yet," Duncan said. "We're going to do this again. And I'll make a new prediction." He put the red, black, and discard piles together into one deck, and asked Walter to shuffle them up while he wrote and folded the next prediction. Once the paper sat between them, Duncan indicated the deck. "Go ahead. The same trick."

Walter went through the entire deck, separating out the cards. When he finished, he counted up the red and black piles. "I got eighteen in each pile."

"Wow," Duncan said. "That's a lot. And it's a tie. Both our piles have the exact same number of cards. Let's take a look at my prediction."

Walter snatched up the paper and unfolded it. Duncan smiled as Walter read:
There will be the same number of red cards and black cards.
To Duncan's relief, Walter nodded in pleasure. "That's good. That's real good. So, how's it done?"

"All you have to do is take out four black cards at the beginning and place them in the card box. That's it. Then when you get the unmatched discards, you put them in the box. The spectator has no idea they aren't playing a full fifty-two card deck, and no matter how many times they shuffle, no matter how many matches they find, in the end, the first time through there will always be four more reds than blacks. Then when you do it the second time —"

"You dumped all the cards out of the box, including the four black cards. So now I've got a full deck and the result will always be even."

"That's it. Simple, elegant, and very effective."

"And one of those idiots at the magic club showed you that?"

"Vincent did. He's no fool."

Walter's smile dropped as he lifted his heavy body off the chair. "I'm no fool, either. It's a good trick but is there anything else you want to tell me about? Any other tricks you learned about since joining the club?"

"I've only just joined and most of our first time together was spent celebrating. I haven't had time to see anything else."

"You've had time for a date."

"I meant that I hadn't had time —"

Walter jutted his chin toward Freddie. Without thinking about it, Duncan looked in the same direction. Freddie's fist cracked into the side of Duncan's head, knocking him out of his chair.

His sight shimmered with pinpricks of light, and he felt the skin near his cheekbone swelling. Freddie grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back to his feet. Though the world rose and fell around him as if he were clinging to a buoy on rough seas, he saw the back of Walter as the man walked deeper into the office.