unfortunately, due to illness, my regular assistant is incapacitated. I therefore find myself in need of a PsyChick to help me with my performances. Having seen you perform in the Pig, I am convinced that you are ideally suited to the position I have to fill.’
Ella found herself believing him. He certainly looked genuine enough and he had brought her coat back without – as best she could establish – removing any of her valuables. And she was alone, at night, in one of the most dangerous parts of the Rookeries.
‘I’m listening,’ she said, adding a flavour of indifference to her tone. It wouldn’t do to seem too enthusiastic.
‘Might I make so bold as to invite you for a cup of coffee? It seems a little declasse for us to be standing negotiating in the middle of the street.’
Declasse… oh la la.
‘Okay, there’s a coffee house across the road from my rooms. We can take our coffee there, Colonel Vanka Maykov, and we can talk as we walk.’
Fortunately the streets of the Rookeries were considerably less crowded at night and the pair of them were able to amble along side by side quite comfortably. It also seemed that the big, bluff Vanka Maykov with his broad shoulders and his cane deterred even the most determined of those who prowled the night in the Demi- Monde.
‘So, Vanka, perhaps you might begin by explaining to me just what a “Licensed Psychic and Occultist” is.’
Vanka chuckled and gave his cane a playful twirl. ‘I am blessed, Miss Thomas, with certain strange abilities,’ he intoned gravely. ‘These abilities give me the power to communicate with the Spirit World, with the souls of those who have gone before us.’
‘Gone where?’ asked Ella sweetly.
‘If you are familiar with the works of His Holiness Comrade Crowley, you will appreciate that beyond the reality of the DemiMonde is a realm inhabited by the Spirits of the Dead. My gift allows me to open channels through to that Spirit World and speak with those who once lived in this Veil of Tears but who have now passed on.’
Ella had to look away. As part of her psychology studies she had done a paper on how faux-Spiritualists fooled the gullible and the vulnerable into believing their mumbo-jumbo, but she had never for the life of her thought she would ever be asked to work as an assistant to a real huckster… well, as real as any Dupe huckster could be.
‘And how would I be able to assist you in your channelling? As far as I know I have no great facility with regards to Spiritualism.’
Vanka halted at the edge of the pavement and made a great show of looking about for oncoming traffic before stepping carefully into the road. ‘Unfortunately the practice of Spiritualism has been tarnished – adulterated, if you will – by the activities of a number of sharps who mask their lack of talent with theatrical tricks.’
‘Tricks? What sort of theatrical tricks?’ prompted Ella, dressing her face with the most disingenuous of smiles.
Vanka nudged Ella lightly around a pile of horse manure that adorned the middle of the road. ‘These shysters are prone to stoop to such low contrivances as table rattling, levitation and the manifestation of ghosts and ectoplasm to convince their audiences that they are indeed gifted with the same powers as those possessed by adepts such as myself.’ He shook his head dolefully. ‘It is a sad reflection of the world in which we live, Miss Thomas, that without such artifice and theatricality, the audiences at a seance are now somewhat disappointed.’
As she stepped up onto the pavement, Ella eyed the man carefully. ‘So, let me see if I’ve got this straight, Vanka. All these tricksters, in order to hide the fact that they have no psychic ability, fool their clients with a flim- flam display of tricks and gimmicks…’
‘Exactly.’
‘… but they have been so successful that now, in the public’s mind, these tricks and gimmicks are such an indispensable part of the ritual of Spiritualism that without them a true adept such as you…’
An appreciative nod of the head.
‘… finds it difficult to be taken seriously.’
‘A most pithy and insightful summary.’
‘So where do I come into all this?’ Ella asked.
‘I need an assistant, Miss Thomas – a beautiful, vivacious and intelligent assistant – who can assist me in the execution of certain elements of theatricality I, through necessity, have been obliged to incorporate into my performances.’
Ella smiled. ‘So you want me to be your assistant flimflammer?’
‘That is a somewhat palsied way of describing your duties, but I suppose, in essence, the answer is yes.’
‘I see. And would this beautiful, vivacious and intelligent assistant flim-flammer be remunerated for her efforts?’
‘One guinea a performance…’
Ella laughed derisively.
‘… payable in advance and a further guinea payable after the successful conclusion of each seance.’
‘Two guineas at the end of the performance,’ Ella riposted, ‘three guineas in total.’
‘Very well, but your costume comes out of your advance. I’m not having you scalp me for a new dress and then play the forgetful truant.’
‘I’ll think about it. I’m not really in the mood for making career decisions at the moment. I live just around this corner and over there’ – she pointed across the street – ‘is where you’ll find the coffee house I was telling you about. Let’s get together at noon tomorrow to discuss…’
The words died in her mouth. As she turned the corner she could see the building where she had her rooms but she could also see the three Black Marias stationed outside and the swarm of black-uniformed Checkya officers milling around the building’s entrance. A large crowd had gathered to see what the excitement was all about. Instinctively Ella looked up to the fifth floor where, so PINC advised her, she had her rooms and what she saw there set her nerves jangling. Her apartment was ablaze with light and through the windows – no one had bothered to draw the drapes – she could see Checkya officers searching her bookshelves.
Her blood ran cold.
‘Those are my rooms they’re searching. I’ve got to see what’s happening…’
Vanka took a firm grip on her arm. ‘I think that might not be a sensible thing to do, Miss Thomas. With the Checkya it is better to know what is going on in advance rather than trusting to those two mythical beasts, luck and the law. Why don’t you stay here, tucked away in the shadows of this doorway, and I’ll just go over and ask a few questions.’
Ella was so upset by this development – through PINC she knew just how unprincipled and evil an outfit Beria’s Checkya was – that all she found the energy to do was nod. What troubled her most was the thought that the Checkya had come so soon after her arrival in the Demi-Monde. From what she understood from the Professor, as long as she wasn’t cut, as long as no one discovered that she could bleed, she was safe. He had assured her that her identity and her background were foolproof. But if this was the case, why were the Checkya looking for her?
She shrank back into the darkness of the doorway and watched as Vanka sauntered across the road to stand with the crowd of rubberneckers. For about ten minutes he chatted with the people around him, he laughed, he pointed out events happening in Ella’s room, he cracked jokes, he politely made way for ladies as they meandered into and out of the crowd and finally, unbelievably, he shared a cigarette with one of the Checkya officers. The man might be a rascal but he had the balls of an elephant.
It was when Vanka began chatting with an enormously tall and very thin man, dressed in a long frock coat and high top hat, both coloured a severe black, that Ella took especial notice. She had to do a double take: the man might have had his back to her but for a moment she could have sworn Vanka was talking with the doppelganger of Professor Septimus Bole. Then the crowd shifted and the man was gone, swallowed up in the mob. Most peculiar…
