The Magician's Accomplice

by Michael Genelin

  Jana scanned the sky. No helicopter, of course. She quickened their pace, the professor hard put to keep up even though they were no longer climbing.

  “You seem to be in more of a hurry than I am,” the professor observed. “Let’s take our time so I’m not winded. I will need my wind for the meeting I’m contemplating.”

  “We’re too exposed here.”

  She pressed on, the professor trotting to keep up with her.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked. His head swiveled from side to side. “Are they after us? Are they back there?”

  “I don’t know, which is why I’m hurrying.”

  They turned onto Proposka, then twisted left on Malteske , heading down into a separate little declivity of old stucco and stone houses, a few little shops and restaurants, to an area generally inhabited by artists and writers who liked the bohemian life. They passed a graffiti-covered wall commemorating John Lennon’s death, something totally out of place in Prague, particularly in this section. A segment of the graffiti depicted a bullet exiting a bleeding heart. Not a good omen, Jana thought, then chided herself. The stress was getting to her. Omens are for witch doctors, not investigators. Focus on reality, she told herself. That was the only way to get out of the mess they were in.

  The professor tugged at her sleeve to pull her to a stop shortly after passing the wall. The yellow building housed an old restaurant with a smiling pig over the door, a sign underneath in fading candy-striped letters proclaiming Veprove Zahrada, the Pork Garden. The professor looked up at the sign, and hesitated.

  “Just standing in front of the door isn’t going to get you far, Professor.”

  “I’m planning.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “What to say.”

  “If you still love her, you’ll know what to say.”

  “It requires careful thought.”

  “Telling a woman that you love her is a good beginning.”

  “What if she says ‘Go away, I don’t love you any more’?”

  “Then you go on to the next dream. Meanwhile, I think you have to explore this one.” Jana opened the door, nudging him inside.

  The restaurant was dimly lit. A number of long wooden communal tables took up the floor space. Several people at one of the tables were being served large glasses of dark beer. The guests nibbled pretzels from a large bowl in the center of the table before taking their first sips of the heavy beer. At the same time, they played a dice game, shouting every time a cup containing the dice was shaken and rolled. The waiter who had served the beer, a heavyset older man with a completely bald head that shone even in the dimness of the inn, waved them to a table.

  “Beer?” he called as they sat down.

  Jana signaled for two small beers.

  The waiter walked back to the rear of the place, pouring the beers out of a pump spigot.

  The professor gazed intently at the man.

  “It’s him.”

  “Who is him?”

  “Marketa’s husband.”

  The revelation that the professor’s beloved was married shook Jana.

  “You didn’t tell me she was married, Professor.” She eyed him disapprovingly. “We didn’t come in here to confront a husband. If you had informed me of that, I would have handcuffed you and dragged you back to the hotel.”

  “It was okay. He knew about us. He had another lady who he was seeing. It was okay with both of them. That was the way it was. She was my assistant in the magic act. Every magician has to have an assistant. What happened between us came naturally.”

  “Professor, she’s no longer your assistant.”

  “That’s why she left me,” he sighed. “She liked being on the stage. When I retired and asked her to marry me, she walked out.”

  “So she no longer loved you.”

  “Of course she loved me. It was just her way of trying to make me stay in the business. I got angry and left Prague. I thought she’d follow me.”

  “You’re fooling yourself, Professor.”

  “I know she loved me. Men can tell about these things.”

  “Professor, it’s supposed to be the women who can tell, not the men.”

  “You forget, one of the items I did in my act was to read minds.”

  “Professor, it was a trick.”

  “With me and her, it was real.”

  The bald waiter who was Marketa’s husband came over to the table and set the two beers in front of them.

  “Hello, Konrad.” The professor nodded at the waiter. “How have you been?”

  The waiter nodded back without any sign of recognition.

  “I’m the Professor, Konrad. The magician who Marketa worked with.”

  The waiter looked at him more closely, the light of recognition finally appearing.

  “How have you been, Professor?” he asked, without really caring.

  “Fine, Konrad. And how is Marketa?”

  “I haven’t seen her in a while. She always liked the bright lights. This life was not good enough for her. You know that.”

  An older woman, slightly younger than Konrad, came out of the back carrying a small bowel of pretzels that she set in front of them. Then, without saying a word, she walked over to the table where the men were throwing dice.

  “I see Jolana is still with you.”

  “We get along.”

  “Do you know where I can get in touch with Marketa?”

  “Sure.” He reached into his pocket, then pulled out a small wallet and extracted a card. “She went into business for herself. This is her club.” He laid the card down in front of the professor. “If you see her, tell her that her husband says hello.” He walked to the dice-thrower’s table, sat down next to Jolana, and kissed her on the cheek.

  “They make a nice couple,” Jana commented.

  The professor picked up the card. “K5,” he read. “That’s all it says, with an address in Stare Mesto.” He admired the card. “Very classy.”

  “Gold embossing,” Jana pointed out.

  “Good-quality paper.”

  “You still want to see her, Professor?”

  “She’s my one true love,” said the professor.

  “You said that before.”

  “I meant it before; I mean it now.”

  “You’re crazy,” said Jana. “And I’m crazier for going with you.”

  They finished their beer, left money on the table for the drinks, and left.

  Chapter 32

  The club was in one of the taller buildings in the Stare Mesto area. It advertised “K5” in ornate neon lettering a half-story high. When they stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the sign, the professor thought they had come to the wrong address.

  “Obviously this is not it.” He turned back to the taxi driver, showing him the card Konrad had given them. The driver pointed at the card, then the neon sign, then drove off talking to himself about the idiotic clients he had to service. The professor yelled a few ineffectual words after the departing taxi, then turned back to Jana.

  “We will have to talk to someone else who can tell us where the club is.”

  “Professor, I think this is it.”

  “Too expensive; too garish. She always had taste, even in the costumes she wore on stage. Never too much skin. Merely suggestive.”

  “It’s a different era now, Professor. Glitz is good.”

  The professor was rooted to the spot, staring up at the sign. Jana took him by the arm and marched him toward the lobby door. There was an elevator next to the door which was surrounded by red neon. A liveried doorman hurried over to punch the call button. The elevator door opened, and Jana pulled the professor inside.

  “We follow the directions, Professor.”

  The doors closed and the elevator began to ascend. The professor looked at the panel.

  “There are three floors to the club,” the professor murmured, a tone of awe in his voice. “I don’t believe this is hers. Maybe she’s just a hostess?�
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  The floors on the panel were labeled with small gold plates that read CLUB/BAR/RESTAURANT, THEME ROOMS, and RELAXATION AREA. Jana wondered what went on in the relaxation area.

  The elevator doors opened, and they walked into the club. It was stylishly appointed, with an ultra-modern décor that managed to maintain a touch of elegance. Even at six o’clock in the early evening, it was nearly full. But the clientele was not yet boisterous, the soft hum of music being piped in not yet overcome by the ambient noise. Unlike the sign on the outside of the building, all was softly lit, the rosy glow of indirect lighting suffusing much of the room. It made everyone look better.

  They were met by a very attractive young woman wearing a strapless gown who led them onto the floor. “I can see the way you’re looking around that you haven’t been here before. Welcome to the K5. There is a cover charge that you must pay when you’re seated, which will be deducted from your tab at the end of your stay. Eat and drink enough and you pay no cover. This is the best club in Prague. Three floors, fifteen individually themed rooms in which you can enjoy yourself, with over forty girls working tonight. If you have any questions, just ask any of the ladies, who have been selected by the management for their intelligence and beauty.”

  She led them to a central table with a notebook computer in its center. “The fifty-euro cover fee is payable now.” She tore a slip from a small pad, setting it on the table. “Just show it to the waitress and it will be progressively deducted from your food and drink bill.” She patiently waited while a slightly bewildered professor dug into his wallet and came out with a fifty-euro bill.

  “The computer on the table?” Jana asked.

  “You’ll find it’s simple to operate. It tells you which girls are working tonight, what their interests and statistics are, and allows you to make a decision about which of them you want to spend your pleasure time with.”

  “Pleasure time?” gulped the professor.

  “Everything here is pleasure time,” the hostess said. “The computer also tells you what other activities are available in the club. Any other questions?”

  “We’re here to talk to Marketa. Is she around?”

  The hostess hesitated. “We have several Marketas. Which one do you want?”

  “She was in show business. I don’t know what name she’s going by now. A very pretty woman,” the professor suggested.

  “All of our women are pretty.” The hostess was impatient. “Check the computer.”

  “I don’t think she’s on the list,” Jana asserted. “I think she owns the club.”

  “Yes, maybe she owns the club.” The professor’s voice came out in a reluctant squeak.

  “Perhaps just a piece of it.”

  “You want to see the owner?” the hostess asked.

  “If she’s Marketa,” Jana asserted, “we want to see her. Please tell her that the professor is here, and that he still loves her.”

  “That’s not fair!” the professor yelped.

  “You want her to come, don’t you?” Jana looked back up at the hostess. “Go ahead, tell Marketa.”

  The hostess nodded, then walked away.

  “I think you’ve done me a disfavor,” the professor scowled at Jana. “I am not a lovesick buffoon.”

  “Lovesick, yes; a buffoon, no. If there was any doubt that the woman would come out to see you, there is no doubt now. She won’t be able to resist hearing the declaration of love from your own lips.”

  “I’m embarrassed. The whole world will think I’m a dolt.”

  “This is a nightclub, not the whole world.” She scanned the club, looking for threats. There were none that she could see. “Being direct is a virtue.”

  “Not in this case.”

  “If it truly is ‘your’ Marketa, I will wager my share of the cover charge that not only will she be here, but in the first minute she’s at the table she’ll tell you how lovely it was to hear that you still loved her.”

  The professor was silent.

  “Do you accept the bet, Professor?”

  “I never bet against myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I may win.”

  He surveyed the club, the girls lounging at the bar, the computer at the table.

  “It’s a glorified brothel.”

  The professor stared across the floor. Jana followed his eyes. A woman in her fifties, dressed in a designer business suit, a diamond necklace at her throat, a matching diamond pin on her lapel, and a diamond bracelet on her wrist, was making her way through the tables toward them.

  “Is that her, Professor?”

  “Yes,” he gulped out. “It’s Marketa.” He took a deep breath. “She looks very different.”

  “It’s not reasonable to expect the same woman you knew. Change the picture of her on that shrine in your mind, Professor.”

  “It’s still her.”

  When she got to their table, without any other prelude, Marketa pulled the professor’s head around and kissed him on the lips.

  “The message you sent me was truly lovely, my sweet.” She pulled back just enough to look closely at his face.

  “It is so good to finally see you after all these years.” She kissed him again, this time on the cheek, affectionately rubbing her hand up and down his arm. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Well, you have!” he blurted out.

  Marketa’s eyes narrowed.

  “How have I changed?”

  “The diamonds; you are covered all over with diamonds.”

  She tossed her head. “You would never buy me any, so I had to find the money to buy them for myself.” She looked over at Jana. “No need to tell you how expensive they are.

  So, once a woman gets them, she’s entitled to flaunt them, right?”

  “Right,” Jana agreed.

  “I am Marketa,” Marketa announced somewhat imperiously to Jana. “And you are …?”

  “Jana Matinova.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Matinova.” She stroked the professor’s arm again. “Has he told you that we used to be in a magic act together?” She went on without waiting for an answer. “My darling professor finally got tired of sawing me in half and decided to leave the stage. Of course, I was too young to retire.”

  “Of course,” agreed Jana.

  “He wanted me to go to Slovakia. Can you believe that? Leave Prague and go to the Slovak Republic? That was not a change for the better.”

  “You weren’t so young any more,” the professor interjected.

  “Young and still beautiful enough.” Irritated, Marketa moved away from the professor. “I simply had to find another man who was willing to put up with me.”

  “And you did,” suggested Jana.

  “He gave me a little. I had savings. I knew the business of entertainment. Eventually, I had these….” She indicated her diamonds. “Then I had this.” She swept her arm around the room.

  She moved back closer to the professor, kissing him on the cheek again.

  “Unfortunately, the kind of magic we had only lasts for a while.”

  A very handsome young man, deeply tanned, dressed in tailored leisure clothes, his silk shirt collar flared at his neck, came over to the table, crouching down in front of Marketa.

  “Marketa, I’m going shopping. Would you like to come?”

  “Not right now, Jiri. Do you have enough money?”

  “I thought I could take some from your purse.”

  “Always, darling. It’s in the office.”

  He kissed her on the mouth, both of them lingering over the kiss.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he called back over his shoulder as he sauntered away.

  The professor looked thunderstruck.

  “I can’t help myself,” Marketa confided to Jana. “I like them young.” She looked at the professor, sighing. “You used to be like that, darling. And so was I. Being young is lovely, having a young one is only slightly less so.” She patted the professor’s ar
m. “I’m so glad you stopped by to see your former flame, old sweetheart.” She pinched him on the cheek. “Still cute.”

  Jana noticed a man walk over to a nearby table. He seemed to be determined to look in any direction but Jana’s. And he was too watchful. He was ready for what was to happen, knowing it was going to happen. Jana felt a chill in her stomach.

  She looked at the entrance of the club. Two other men were talking to the hostess.

  Jana felt an even colder chill. One of them was Ryan, the Irishman from the Europol party who had tried to embarrass her by dangling his false member in her face; the other was Ilica, the Romanian. She had not been wrong when she thought she’d seen him on the Charles Bridge.

  “Professor, they’re here.”

  He stiffened, looking around the room. Marketa, no stranger to problems in a club like K5, caught Jana’s tone as well.

  “Do we have trouble?”

  “There are three men in the club who want to kill us.”

  Marketa quickly ran her eyes over the clientele in the club.

  “The two at the entrance?”

  “And the one at that table.” Jana indicated the table with her eyes.

  “If you can get through the back, near the restrooms, there is another elevator. It’s a private route down to the parking lot. There’s a black BMW sedan parked immediately next to the elevator doors. I keep the keys in the ignition. You never know when you’ll need to make a fast exit from the stage.”

  “Thank you, Marketa.”

  “Yes, thank you, Marketa,” the professor echoed.

  Jana pulled her gun out of her purse, clicking the safety off.

  “No shooting in the club.” Marketa hissed. She kissed the professor one last time. “Come back when you have more time to talk, darling.”

  Jana slid out of her seat and walked quickly over to the man seated at the nearby table. He saw her coming, but a fraction of a second too late. Jana placed the barrel of her pistol at his neck before he could do anything.

  “Up!” she said, pulling him erect, stepping behind him. The two men at the entrance now had guns in their hands and were walking toward her. Jana stood behind the hostage she had taken, pulled the hammer of the pistol back, and rested the gun on the man’s shoulder, aiming at the two men who were advancing on her. The sight of her gun stopped them for the moment.