The Man Who Killed

“What name, please?”

I gave the one Jack had used the night before.

“One moment, sir.”

The clerk picked up a receiver and whispered something. A moment passed in the murmuring lobby and was marked by the single chime of a bell. The clerk sneered and said: “Sir, Mr. Houdini left specific instructions that he wished to be informed the moment this package was collected. He will be with you directly.”

Merde. This was not anything I wanted part of. All I’d imagined was a peek at the book or message from Houdini Jack was after to see how it played into this malarkey. It was too late now to cause a scene ducking out. Remember Jack’s words: sheer brazen cheek.

Hell and damnation gang aft agley. What was I trying to accomplish, sniffing around the edges of his scheming like this? Parity, information, intelligence. The way he’d sicced Laura and Bob on me at the party and used me as an idle amusement: Jack was wrong. I was a free agent, unaccounted for and independent, with the power to alter events. This was something I’d forgotten while devoured by my inward world. Some message had passed between Jack and the magician and I, as always, was cut out. Later I’d been exiled from the gin party. If I was enemy, let me behave as one. Even now Jack was in all likelihood bedding a twist from the shindig whilst I waited amongst rubber plants and geraniums. Another clear bell sounded and the lift doors slid open. There was Houdini foursquare in the box. His gaze pierced yours truly and he marched straight over.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “You aren’t the man I spoke with.”

“No,” I said.

“Well, what the devil do you want? If you’re another crawler bringing warnings I advise you to push off.”

“Warnings?”

“State your business, man. I’ve no time for triflers. Mrs. Hou-dini waits upon me.”

“Mr. Houdini, I mean no offence. Please, if we might speak privately for a moment.”

A spasm of nervous constriction crossed his face and he tensed up. I fancied I saw his biceps flexing beneath the fabric of his morning coat. There was no wish on my part to tangle with the man; he was strong and a mite fearsome, though I’d a few inches and twenty-odd years on him. Houdini sighed impatiently. From so close he appeared worn, his movements stiff and pained.

“Very well,” he said, “but with some haste if you please.”

We drifted to a pair of wingbacks shielded by aspidistras from the desk. I gestured Houdini to sit and he did with an ill grace, pinching the crease of his trousers to keep their knife edge.

“Well?”

“Mr. Houdini, I came for the book.”

“Don’t be a fool. There’s no such thing. What do you want?”

“I want to understand what’s happening here. You say you’ve been warned. Was it by the man at the Union last night? The one I was with?”

“Ah! You’re an ignorant pawn. I expected better.”

“From whom?”

“From your masters! Ha! Warned, yes I’ve been warned, but it will take a power mightier than those behind your companion to stop Houdini! The truth will out, sir. The truth will out.”

“What truth?”

He barked a laugh.

“You think to draw me? Tell your masters that Houdini reveals his secrets to no man. He will not be drawn.”

“Have you been threatened?”

In Houdini’s hard glare there was a fierce suspicion.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“No one. No one of importance. I’m part of something I don’t entirely understand and beg your indulgence to allow me to ask you a few more questions.”

“Are you a reporter?”

“Lord no.”

Houdini snorted decisively.

“As I have said in the past I will have neither truck nor trade with fakers and charlatans. My exposure of the medium Margery in New York illustrates this point. Now, when I come to this fair Dominion with knowledge that may save her honour my sacred duty is to reveal the truth.”

The man’s intense manner was difficult to counter.

“You’ve learned of a false medium?”

“Far worse than some sham humbug. No, there’s a danger to this country. I provide a tit-bit for you to carry back to your masters, errand boy. When in London I learned the name of a highly placed official of your government who subscribes to superstition. Imagine the harm that may befall your people in these unsettled times, the danger to your sovereign. It is my duty to unmask these—”

“Who is this official?” I interrupted.

“Ha! Imagine my telling you! Inform your betters that none can stop Houdini, no gag, no chain, no fetter, no lock, not even death itself.”

He held me rapt, his eyes unblinking. Quick as thought now he stood and strode towards the lift’s closing doors. Their course was halted and they re-opened for him. Houdini ignored the elevator boy and entered the chamber and was gone. I remained seated, surrounded by the lobby’s confusion. Someone was watching me. There: at the front desk the pockmarked clerk pointed in my direction and with him Jack. Damnation. Jack came over and clapped his heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Well, what’ve we fucked up now, boyo?”

No humour or pleasure in his tone. Through a subtle physical coercion that I attributed to his training with the Pinkertons Jack directed me out of the hotel and onto Peel.

“Sticking your nose into where it doesn’t belong,” he said.

“Don’t you look at me. You’re the one who tied me up in this bloody tangle.”

“And I thought you’d manage some small competence. Jesus, Mick, you don’t have half an idea of what’s going on.”

“And that’s just the way you like it, me in the dark. The party last night with Laura and that bastard friend of yours. Nice of you to keep it under your hat.”

Jack stopped cold. His eyes shifted and he looked at his shoes.

“That one I didn’t know. Believe me, I had no idea at all,” he said.

“Bollocks. First it’s booze, then it’s Bob, and now Houdini. What are you trying to do? Flush him out or scare him?”

“Perhaps a little of both.”

“At whose bidding? This can’t be your idea.”

“That I can’t tell you,” Jack said.

“Well I’ve got a damned good notion now.”

“No you don’t. You have no idea, Mick.”

“I think I do, especially after what the man said.”

“What was that?”

Jack was all attention now. I could almost imagine the pressure he was under, and in a certain way I’d accomplished part of my goal. Let him hang out to dry for once.

“Your Houdini told me that a highly placed member of His Majesty’s government here was messing about with soothsayers and faeries and talking to spooks from beyond the grave. He thinks it’ll leave the Crown open to manipulation by the Bolsheviks or the Bavarian Illuminati or the Goddamn Japanese, I don’t know. Houdini’s going to spill to someone, the ’papers or the horsemen or the Prince of bloody Wales.”

It’s difficult for a redhead to turn pale but Jack was doing a fine job of it now.

“That’s what he said? Are you certain?” he asked.

“Sure as the pound sterling,” I said.

“Who is it? Who’s the official?”

“Houdini found out in London so it must be someone high up. That’s all I know.”