Real Magic (20 page)

"No, no, no," Duncan mumbled. "We don't need to go in there."

Freddie got behind him and lifted him off the ground. Duncan kicked, but Freddie only tightened his grip. They went through the door behind Walter's desk and down a dimly lit corridor. Though it could only have been a few feet, it felt like they were traveling down an endless, ever-constricting tunnel.

Duncan burst into a clammy sweat as his heart raced. He could only manage rapid, shallow breaths. Fighting down the urge to vomit, he tried to focus his thoughts, but panic had seized his mind. "Don't do this. Don't do this!"

At the end, Freddie threw Duncan into a wooden chair with leather straps on the arms and legs. The chair had been bolted into the floor. Freddie slapped Duncan's face and used his disorientation to strap him down. Walter watched from the other side of the room, leaning against a brick wall. His harsh eyes glared like a hawk judging the best time to strike.

"Please, Mr. Walter." The whine in his voice hurt as much as the side of his face. "I don't know what you want. You said you wanted card tricks, I brought you card tricks."

Nelson Walter closed in with the golf club in hand. "You really think that's the reason I'm out here? You really think that's the reason I went through all this trouble with you? To learn a few damn card tricks?" He jabbed the golf club into Duncan's stomach. Duncan wanted to double over but could only lean at a slight angle. The straps kept him from moving enough to relieve the pain. Walter used the end of the club to shove Duncan straight back against the chair. "Don't misunderstand me. I love magic. That should be obvious. And I appreciate the things you've shown me. One magician to another, I've found these tricks to be as you said — simple, elegant, and very effective. But that's not why I bothered with you. I got enough people who'll steal all the card tricks I want."

"Then what do want from me?"

Walter's face screwed up tight as he swung the golf club down onto Duncan's thigh. Duncan screamed out and tears streamed from his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think I want? The same damn thing you want? The Door of Vanishing."

Though pain burned in his leg, Duncan could not hold back his astonishment. It deadened his panic and awakened him — he had to think.

With his hand, Walter slapped the side of Duncan's face. "I told you from the start that we would be watching you. You really think Freddie was the only guy out there paying attention? I got people everywhere. I got the damn librarian reporting to me. You understand, you moron?"

"I don't know about a Door of Vanishing."

Crack, crack. Walter struck him twice in the ribs. As fire burned inside his gut, Duncan glanced up long enough to see Walter's fist pop him in the forehead.

Duncan's head lolled. He caught sight of a blood stain in the corner, and any last threads of bravery left him. He had to say whatever worked to appease Walter. He'd never get home if he were dead, so if Walter wanted to learn this trick, Duncan would happily pretend that the trick existed. "I don't know where the Door is yet, but that's a sophisticated trick. Very advanced. I don't know if I'll be able to figure out how it works."

"Wrong." Duncan cringed as Walter swung the club again. A blaze of pain ignited in Duncan's arm. He yelled as sharp jolts raced down to his fingers. "I'm not talking about the legendary trick. I'm talking about the same thing you're after — the
real
Door of Vanishing. I've followed the story close for years. I know about those people who went through the door but were never heard of again. And you know, a lot of magicians talk about the spiritual world in their acts, but to them, it's nothing more than an act. But you take a guy like Horace Goldin. Back in '29, he wrote an article that talked about some of his great illusions. And in it, he also talked about the fact that he had been chatting with his dead mother and that he got visions of new tricks and all kinds of stuff like that. Reading Goldin, listening to Houdini, and following Verido taught me that there's more than tricks and illusions out there. There's an authentic magic. We only have to be brave enough to find it. The Door of Vanishing — that's the real thing. I don't know how this door works, and frankly, I don't care. But it does work. So, you're going to find me that door."

"If that's what you're after, then why me? Why not just grab Vincent yourself?"

Another swing of the golf club into Duncan's stomach. Sweat beaded on Walter's head. He dabbed at it with a handkerchief. "How many times do I have to tell you that I got people watching all the time? The second you arrived in town, I knew about it. This is Reedsburg, for crying out loud, not Chicago or New York. It's a small town. Easy to control. Suddenly a well-dressed guy like you shows up out of nowhere, and suddenly you're best friends with the only magician that's the closest thing this town has to a pro, and suddenly you're researching Verido in the library — that's too many
suddenlys
for me. I don't know who you're working for, and that's another thing I don't care about. I get that door, and you'll have only one boss in your life — me."

"I don't work for —"

"You need to learn to shut up. You keep talking and I'll keep beating you. See, when I first talked to the bosses about coming out here, they thought I was nuts. I had to build this money laundering Mecca in order to get the go ahead. But I figured eventually they'd send someone like you along to check it out. To check me out. After all, they watch me as close as I watch everyone else."

"I never —"

"They don't understand, though, do they? They think I want these tricks so I can make money off selling them or something. They think there's an angle that fits in with the way they see the world. But you and I know there's a lot of power to be had from owning that door. I mean, why the hell do you think I came to live out here? If I find the Door, I can take out anybody and there won't ever be a body to be found. Capone? He's nothing if nobody can find him. I'll take over Chicago in a month easy. You understand me? I'm talking about being the most powerful man alive. And you know what? It'd be good for everybody. With me being the only one in power, all the family fights, the old rivalries, the boss hits, the street wars, the senseless bloodshed — it all goes away. We could have peace and prosperity for our kids."

Walter punched Duncan in the nose and continued punching with each word he spoke. "So, you will get me that door."

"I'll get it for you," Duncan said. He would say almost anything to escape that chair. "I just have to find Verido."

"You sure you don't want to argue some more? I'm having fun." Freddie snickered from the back.

"I'll find Verido," Duncan said, sweat dribbling into the blood on his face.

"One more thing." Walter leaned in close enough for Duncan to smell the man's hot breath. "I don't trust you anymore. If you try to get out of this, if you try any kind of trickery, that little gal you're sweet on is going to pay for it. And believe me, there's plenty of worse things I can do to her in this chair than I've done to you."

"I'll find him. Don't do anything to her. I'll find the Door for you. I promise."

Duncan repeated these words like a mantra while Freddie released him from the chair.

 

Duncan stumbled up the stairs
from the Magic Emporium. Clutching his side and breathing hard, he headed straight to Lucy's apartment. He banged on the door several times but nobody answered. With his face pulsing in pain, he wasted no time breaking in — a 1934 lock proved to be easier picking than he had expected. Even if it had been too hard, he knew he could have kicked the door open with ease. Thin wood frame and only one lock meant it would splinter open with one strong kick.

No guilt plagued him as he rifled through the room, searching for Lucy's notes. If she walked in on him, he didn't care. Her life was in danger now, and that trumped all else as far as he was concerned. He could handle a lot on his shoulders but not that — not knowing that Lucy suffered because of him.

In the few minutes it took to cover the room, he found nothing useful. Standing in the center, he scanned the area with his eyes while his mind tumbled over the possibilities. Where would she hide the notes?

"Why would she hide the notes?" he asked the empty room. She wouldn't. She would put them together and hand them to the person she had done all the research for — Vincent. And Vincent would, without a doubt, hide the notes.

But not in his apartment.

Duncan raced back downstairs, unlocked the blue door of the magic club, threw it open, and began his search with the back corners of the small room. Sweat dribbled down his frantic face, stinging the cuts and bruises along his cheek and jaw. He had suffered beatings before — it went with the territory of being a card cheat — but he never experienced ferociousness like Nelson Walter. He had never seen such animal rage held in check by one simple idea — Walter needed Duncan alive and functional. If not, Duncan would have been dead hours ago.

Flipping through books and knocking down stacks of card decks, he could feel the rising panic in his chest. Somewhere in this room, Vincent had to have stashed his sister's notes on Verido. For his book, of course, but he would want to take a crack at figuring the trick out, too. After all, if Vincent solved the Door of Vanishing, he could possibly gain notoriety as great as Houdini.

After going through the bits of cards and papers on the table, Duncan plopped down in a chair. He exhaled in frustration. Rubbing his face, careful to avoid the tender cheek, he tried to organize his thoughts.

In order to protect Lucy, he had to find Verido and the Door of Vanishing. Though Walter's beliefs about the Door's power were not entirely false, Walter appeared to have no real concept of what the Door was, and that gave Duncan an advantage. When he found the Door, he would have to use it right away or else Walter might get hold of it. If that happened, Duncan might never get home. And when he did use the Door, he would have to take Lucy through with him. She might end up feeling worse than Dorothy in Oz, and she would certainly miss Vincent and her friends, but Duncan could never leave her behind to be abused and possibly murdered by an enraged Nelson Walter.

"The question is: Where did Vincent hide his notes?"

Could Duncan have missed them in the apartment upstairs? No. This crappy room was the magic club, the place where Vincent ruled. He might even have taken some pleasure in knowing that this great trick sat under the noses of the club members while they had no idea.

Unless he didn't write any notes down? Vincent was a magician of the 1930s, after all. Duncan's world was one of recording everything and plastering it across the world via the Internet. But Vincent's world had privacy. Vincent's world didn't wear its heart in the open. He may have read Lucy's report, filed it away in his head, and tossed the papers away.

He never wrote it down. This is too important. He's kept it all in his head until he's in a position to make the most out of the information.
"Damn," Duncan whispered.

"Something the matter?" Morty asked from the doorway. When Duncan looked over, Morty's face dropped its customary glee. "What happened to you?"

"What's it look like? I got beat up."

Morty pulled over a chair and inspected Duncan's injuries. He poked Duncan's swelling cheek.

"Ow! What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't know," Morty said. "I ain't a doctor. But you should be seeing one, I can tell you that much. That looks really bad."

"Thanks. I couldn't tell from the pain I'm feeling every time I move my face."

"No need to be nasty. I'm trying to help. You want, I'll get the guys together and we'll get them back, whoever them is. Who is them, anyway? Who did this to you?"

Despite the pain, Duncan smiled at the ridiculous image of Morty, Ben, and Lucas fighting Walter and Freddie. But thinking of Walter beating Morty with a golf club erased all amusement from his mind. "You seen Vincent around?"

Morty shrugged. "Vincent's here. Vincent's there. Who can keep track of a guy like that? I'm sure he'll come by later today when we have a club meeting."

"I need to speak with him now," Duncan said with too much force.

Morty looked at him closer. "What the heck's going on?"

There was no way Duncan could tell the truth, but he had learned long ago that telling lies was easier when mixed with bits of truth. "I'm sorry. I did a bad thing. But I did it for a good reason. At least, I thought it was."

"Slow down. Tell Morty what happened."

"The jobs I got for Vincent and me, working the tables at The Walter Hotel, they didn't come free. I made a deal with Nelson Walter to get those jobs."

"Oh, Duncan, no. You never make deals with the Devil. Don't you know anything?"

"He only wanted a card trick. I figured I could give him any old trick that impressed him and that would be that. Vincent would get some steady work and Lucy would be happy."

Morty nodded. "I see. This is about Lucy."

"But then Walter wanted another trick and another. And now he wants this famous Door of Vanishing trick that he said Lucy and Vincent have been working on but I never even heard of it. Morty, you got to believe me. I never wanted to get them in trouble, and I certainly don't want them getting hurt like me. I was trying to help them."