The Bullet Trick (31 page)

'I’ve always been good with my hands.'

Zelda shook her head, smiling.

'So I saw…’ She looked out towards the dance floor, searching the crowd with her eyes. '… And you like the torture stuff?'

'No,' I grinned. 'No, it’s all for the act. I’m…’ I hesitated, not sure what I was going to say. 'I’m not into pain.'

Zelda laughed again.

'Not for yourself perhaps, but you chop women in two, stick them full of knives then shoot them.'

There was an edge to her words that I hadn’t expected.

'It’s just an act, Zelda.'

'Yes?' She took another sip of champagne, looking at me over the rim of the glass. 'So as long as it’s pretend that’s OK?'

The conversation seemed to have snaked out of my control.

'I think so, yes.'

Zelda smiled.

'You and I see the world differently, William.'

'Perhaps you could educate me.'

'Do I look like a school miss?'

'No, but I imagine you’ve got the costume somewhere.'

A slim woman in black jeans, shirt and leather jacket that I recognised as one of the ninja prop shifters emerged from the press of people and slid her arm around Zelda. They kissed and Zelda lifted the champagne to her friend’s lips. The dark girl took a tiny sip. Zelda smiled as if the off-duty ninja had just done something clever and the two girls leaned into each other. The ninja looked at me with mild unthreatened eyes. No one bothered to introduce me.

I turned to go. 'Have a good party.'

Zelda lifted her glass.

'Thanks for the drink. You were good, William. But you don’t need women’s blood to make you look talented.'

'Thanks for the advice.'

She shrugged.

'It comes free with every glass of champagne.'

High up on the baby grand Gina drove the keys into an up-tempo number. The dark girl put her arm through Zelda’s, leading her onto the dance floor. Zelda looked back over her shoulder.

'Remember what I told you, strange people make for strange times.'

I said, 'Aye, aye.' Irritated by her white shirt, her smooth lipstick smile and the long legs stepping away from me. I turned to look for Nixie, wondering if I could regain ground, and saw Ulla moving slowly through the squeeze of bodies towards the office.

'Happy birthday.'

Ulla looked distracted but she gave me a smile.

'Thanks, William.'

'If I’d known I would have got you a present.'

'There was no need.'

She glanced nervously in the direction she’d been heading. The party was busy now and it was difficult to make headway without pushing through knots of people.

'Thanks again for helping us out.'

'You’ve thanked me already.'

'Sorry.' I grinned. 'What I really meant to say was… ’ I hesitated and Ulla looked worried. '… May I have this dance?'

Ulla laughed but her eyes still flickered away from me.

'I’m looking for Kolja.'

'He can dance with you anytime.' I turned my mouth down at the corners. 'I’m beginning to think German girls are unfriendly.'

Ulla sighed, and then smiled.

'OK, one dance.'

We moved towards the floor just as Gina switched from the up-tempo number she’d been playing into a German hit that I didn’t recognise and whose beat I couldn’t catch. Ulla was a good dancer, light on her feet with a nice synchronisation between her shoulders and hips. I lumbered as close to the rhythm as I could get, hoping my clumsiness was endearing. I wondered what kind of a dancer Kolja was, but couldn’t imagine him sharing the floor with anyone else. The music shifted into another song, I kept dancing, but Ulla was determined.

'Thank you for the dance, William.' She smiled. 'But I’m worried Kolja may be unwell.'

'Nonsense,' I said, my feet still moving, hoping he’d been crushed under a giant prop, kidnapped by the Albanian mafia or maybe just disappeared up his own arsehole. 'He’s the fittest man I’ve ever seen.'

I cast an invisible fishing line and started to wind its reel towards me.

Ulla refused to be hooked.

'Sometimes he does too much.' I wondered if Kolja was on steroids, but I stopped moving and stepped to one side, allowing Ulla to leave the dance floor. She squeezed my hand as she moved away. 'German girls are not always unfriendly, William, not if they’re single. Nixie was looking for you earlier.'

I nodded, 'Yeah, thanks Ulla.' I turned away to hide my disappointment. I’d lost track of Sylvie, but that was hardly surprising. The floor was hoatching now. She’d probably found an attractive man to spend some time with. A sudden thought struck me and I moved quickly, ignoring the gasps and retaliating shoves of the party makers I forced aside in my panic to catch up with Ulla. At last I saw her brown ponytail bobbing in front of me and put my hand on her arm, halting her.

'I think I left my wallet in the office. If Kolja’s in there I’ll send him out to you.'

Ulla looked impatient. Her voice was firm.

'Nein… danke.'

She turned her back on me and walked on ahead. I hurried after, trying to think of something that might delay her, hoping I was wrong. We reached the office almost at the same time and I placed my hand across the door.

'I’ll save you the trouble.'

Ulla pushed me away, walked into the room and turned on the light.

Kolja looked like an illustration from a Soviet poster expounding the health of communist ideology. A young pioneer, or a red-kerchiefed Stakhanovite. He stood straight and silent in the centre of the room, his broad chest flung out, muscular arms by his side. But the men in the posters had animated faces, full of joy at their role in the construction of the socialist nirvana. Kolja’s face was serene, staring into the small mirror that was tucked amongst the framed pictures on Ray’s wall. He turned his glazed eyes on us, a slight smile touched his lips then he shoved the source of his serenity from her knees and onto the ground.

Sylvie looked up at us from her position on the floor. Her eyes were glassy. She smiled unsteadily. Kolja started to button himself away; his mouth took on a grim set.

'Hey, William, Ulla… Happy birthday …’ Sylvie wiped a gloss from her lips. 'You come to join the fun?'

There was a hiss as Ulla leapt at my assistant, wrestling her to the floor. Sylvie let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. Kolja stepped neatly to one side and I bent into the fray. When I managed to pull the girls apart I could feel the scratch of a fingernail down the side of my face and Ulla had a bunch of Sylvie’s sleek hair clutched in her fist. I shoved the struggling girl at her boyfriend and he put his hands on her shoulders, still smiling. I glanced at Kolja, unsure of whether he was stoned or merely enjoying the sight of the two women fighting over him, then looked at Ulla’s stricken face, and felt sorry for her humiliation. I managed to make my voice gentle.

'Can you not see she’s out of her head?'

Ulla turned on me.

'You knew this was happening. You tried to cover for her. Your whore.' Her face screwed into a mask of grief; there was a keening in her shrill voice. 'You wanted me, so you sent her to make trouble.'

'No… I swear… I didn’t know…'

My voice faltered against the accusation.

Sylvie was still on the floor.

'William?'

Her voice was thin and confused.

Ulla spat on Sylvie.

'She’d open her legs to a dog if it sniffed her.'

I looked at Ulla, and wondered what I’d seen in her.

'She’s so drunk she can hardly see.' Sylvie looked at the spit glistening white against her lovely black dress as if wondering how it got there and I realised the truth of what I was saying. 'Into a bit of necrophilia is he, your athlete boyfriend? Look at her, she can hardly move.'

Ulla said, 'You disgust me.'

'Not as much as he disgusts me, your fucking boyfriend’s no better than a fucking rapist.'

Kolja spoke for the first time. His voice was hesitant and it sounded like he had summoned up the total of his English vocabulary.

'It was nothing. It meant nothing, like a drink or a cigarette.'

Ulla saw what was going to happen and moved to stop me, but she was too slow and too slight. I pushed her aside with my left hand, balled my right fist and hit Kolja square in the centre of his handsome weak face. The big athlete was caught by surprise. He lost his balance and fell against Ray’s desk, which spewed a blizzard of files and documents onto the floor. Sylvie batted at the spray of papers as they drifted around her. Her voice was soft with awe.

'William, you just hit Kolja.'

I grinned at her.

'Aye, I did and you know what? I’m going to fucking hit him again.'

Ulla shouted something in German. I leaned in to pull Kolja upright, all the better to get a shot at him, and she leapt on me, clawing at my back. Kolja was beginning to rise from the desk of his own volition and suddenly I realised that if the athlete made it to his feet I was finished. I grabbed Ray’s computer keyboard and slammed it into Kolja’s face. The keyboard was too heavy to make a good weapon, but I stuck with it, amazed at how quickly the white keys became spotted with red, wondering if Ulla’s screams really were in time to the offbeat rhythm of my assault.

It was a relief to hear the strong German voices of the men who pulled me off. I gasped for breath, not bothering to struggle against their hold, hoping I hadn’t killed him. Then Kolja’s fist crashed into my face. The sound went out of my ears and my eyes filled with red. I reeled against the person holding me, and would have fallen if they’d not braced against me. The pain was blinding. I waited for Kolja to take another shot, but it never came. A man I didn’t know shouted something I didn’t understand and didn’t bother to answer.

I spat blood and said, 'Fuck off the lot of yous, and take that fucking rapist scum with you or I’ll fucking do him for good.'

It came out as a spray of spit and gore and I doubt anyone understood me but the room emptied anyway and Sylvie and I were left alone.

There was a silence and I found myself gazing at the photograph of Ray’s granddad with his head inside the polar bear’s mouth. A moment of triumph followed by decapitation, that’s entertainment.

Sylvie looked up at me from the floor. The fringes of her dress were rucked around her waist; her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. She still wore the plaster and glass tiara, but it was sideways on now, a stupid gewgaw, not even a slipped halo. My assistant’s eyes were wide, her voice small and distant as if she were talking to me from a long way off.

She said, 'What’s so terrible about being called a whore?'

Glasgow

THERE ISN’T MUCH between the magic you perform for adults and the type that you do for children. Once again, the difference is in the delivery, the patter, the flimflam, whatever it is that you want to call the chat and flourishes that distract the eye and make the audience want to indulge the conjurer’s art.