The Bullet Trick

counter and led the girl out in front. There was a call for hush followed by a shushing that threatened to descend into disruption, then the girl raised her face to the ceiling, closed her eyes and started to sing. Everyone else fell silent.

My young love said to me, 'My mother won’t mind And my father won’t slight you for your lack of kind'

And she stepped away from me and this she did say:

'It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.'

Her voice was high and clear and pure. It should have made me think of green rolling hills and the white froth of a waterfall glinting against the sun, but instead I saw Sylvie strapped to the target as I walked towards her, masked in my Young Bones Wilson costume. She seemed to press herself against the board. One of the sparkles in her hair caught the light and a bright prism glanced into my eyes, giving me a quick flash of the whole rainbow spectrum. It was an instant as fast as a bullet, then it was gone and there was just the frightened girl and the faceless audience watching from the dark.

As she stepped away from me and she moved through the fair And fondly I watched her move here and move there And then she turned homeward with one star awake Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake.

I took the bullet from my pocket, gripped it between my finger and thumb and held it high in the air. Dix came out of the blackness, the scarf still hiding his features. He had a second man with him. The man wore a smart black suit over a black shirt and a latex mask of a red fox. The fox’s wide smile was hungry, the eyes that glinted from its head an unnatural green that made me think of the damage a broken beer bottle can do.

The people were saying, no two e’er were wed

But one had a sorrow that never was said

And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear, And that was the last that I saw of my dear.

The fox stared at the bullet for an age, turning it over in his hand, holding it close to his eye examining it until I lost track of time. Then at last he took the pen from Dix’s hand and initialled the bullet along its edge, making sure he’d recognise it again. I handed Dix the revolver and he passed it to the fox, who examined it with the same intense thoroughness he’d used on the bullet. Then he gave the gun and bullet directly to me and stared through his green eyes as I placed the bullet into the revolver. That was the difficult moment, the point where I made the switch. And I managed it; I swapped the live bullet for its wax twin and loaded it into the chamber right before his suspicious eyes. He walked away and Sylvie and I were left facing each other in the bright white pool of light, surrounded on all sides by a blackness darker than deep space. I continued my mantra, concentrate, concentrate, concentrate, until her face lost its focus and became just a pale white thing, pressed behind glass, like a dead butterfly with a red marking at its centre.

Last night she came to me, my dead love came in.

So softly she came that her feet made no din

As she laid her hand on me and this she did say,

'It will not be long, love,' til our wedding day.'

The pub broke into a racket of applause, rattling beer glasses and whoops. The barmaid bowed prettily and ducked behind the counter before she could be pressed into an encore. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took another sip of my whisky. Then something made me look through the crush of bodies to the far end of the room, to where Inspector James Montgomery stood, still and sober amongst the revelry, with his eyes fixed on me.

The ex-policeman gave me a vague smile, the kind you might give a man whose face you recognise but can’t quite place. I kept my own expression neutral and said, 'You’re early.'

'Yeah, well I thought I’d arrive in good time, do a bit of sightseeing. I’ve never been to Scotland before.' He grinned. 'No wonder all you Jocks head down south.' Montgomery shook his head. 'What a dump.'

'Not like the classy joint you had your retirement do in, eh?'

'I’m not talking about this place, shithole though it is. I thought I’d make the most of my time up here; take in some of the sights. No offence but it’s like going back fifty years.'

'No offence taken.'

The turns had ceased for a while and Dean Martin was belting out ‘Little Old Wine Drinker Me’ from the jukebox. He wasn’t as popular as the barmaid, but he was going down OK and a few diehards were joining in the chorus. Montgomery laughed and put his arm around me like a man enjoying a good joke and I felt something small and blunt press into my spine.

'Cumbernauld was the worst though. The conditions people live in there, especially the old folk, appalling. Quite frankly some of them’d be better off dead.'

My resolution to stay cool disappeared in a quick flash of heat. I hissed, 'You fucking go near my mother and you’ll not live long enough to get what you’re after.'

Montgomery wiped away a speck of spittle that had landed on his face.

'Touched a nerve did I?' He pressed a little further into my back. 'Must’ve done to make you start threatening a man who’s holding a gun to you.' He grinned. 'You can’t win, son.

Just hand over what’s mine and you never have to worry about me again.'

'I don’t have it on me.'

'Then let’s go and get it.' He smiled again. 'Shall I tell you a secret?'

'If you like.'

Montgomery put his face close to mine and whispered. 'Your mother isn’t all you have to worry about.' His smile was small and sweet as a cupid’s. 'I know all about your little German girlfriend.'