by Robert Brown
“While you watch what’s going on in one hand, you miss what’s going on in the other.” The man reached out and pinched the empty air between his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly, the same playing card appeared right at his fingertips.
“Whoa,” said one of the boys. “Can you do that again?”
“I’m afraid not. Never do the same trick twice in succession; that’s one of the main rules of magic.”
“Please, please, please,” said the boy.
“Maybe later. It seems I’m a wanted man.” The gentleman motioned to the two men at the back of the store to come over. “How can I help you fellas?” he asked.
The two boys returned to messing with the magic props on the display table in the center of the store.
“I didn’t want to ruin your flow,” said Cael. He and Tyler approached the felt-lined table at the rear of the store. “I dabble myself. I know how distracting it can be when two detectives suddenly interrupt you mid-trick.”
The gentleman laughed. “Detectives, eh? What have I done this time?”
“My name is Cael Adler. I’m assisting the London Metropolitan Police on a murder investigation. This is Officer Tyler Easton.”
Tyler nodded his head.
“Murder investigation?” the gentleman asked. “I assure you I have nothing to hide.”
“We’re sure you don’t,” said Cael. “However, your name was given to us by one Omar Sabir, if that name means anything to you. You are Stuart Baggs, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Stuart picked up the red-backed playing cards and placed them back into their case. “Omar is a friend of mine. Why did he refer you here?”
“A few days ago, a young girl named Stephanie Brady was discovered dead in a nearby wooded area. She’d been cut completely in half. She was a magician’s assistant in the London area. Is the name familiar to you at all?”
“Nope, never heard that name in my life. Although magician’s assistants are notoriously inconspicuous. There are no real ‘famous’ magician’s assistants out there.”
“What’s your relationship to Omar Sabir?” asked Tyler.
“Sometimes Omar invites me to his den,” said Stuart.
“Are you a gambler?”
“No, not at all. If Omar suspects one of his regulars of cheating, he calls me in to watch the guy’s moves. I can spot a card shark a mile away.”
“So, you’re pretty knowledgeable, then?”
“Yep, you could say that. I was a professional magician until five years ago. Retired at 52. Made more than enough money on the circuit. Now I just run this place. It doesn’t make much cash but I do it for the love of magic, nothing else.”
Cael pulled out the Jack of Hearts found at the crime scene. He slid it along the felt table.
“This card was found next to our victim. Anything you can tell us about it?”
A quick glance at the back of the card was all Stuart needed. “This is a limited-edition Bicycle card. It’s from the Labyrinth series. See the backs? To the layman, it just looks like a fancy pattern. But if you look closely, the pattern spells out JH. Jack of Hearts. Simple.”
“Is this kind of deck easily accessible?”
Stuart glanced at the table at the center of the store. One of the boys from before was attempting to riffle-shuffle a deck on it. Next to him, a cardboard display boasting stacks of the deck in question grabbed Cael and Tyler’s attention.
“They’re quite new. No one around here other than me sells them. I assume you can get them online, though.”
“Mr. Baggs, has anyone recently purchased that deck from you?”
“Come to think of it, yes, actually.”
Tyler pulled out his notebook. Cael did the same, although he never wrote anything in his. “Tell us everything,” said Tyler.
“It was around three weeks ago. Really weird guy, actually. I’d never seen him before. It’s quite strange; the people who frequent this place are mostly regulars, and any newbies are usually young kids. This guy, though, he was middle-aged. Maybe mid-40s.”
“What did he look like?”
“It was hard to tell. He had a hood covering most of his face. He had a pretty long beard. Black hair. Quite short. Maybe five-foot-five or so.”
“Did he go straight for the deck of cards?” asked Cael, “or did he linger around the shop?”
“He didn’t wait around. In fact, he bought two items from me that day.”
“What was the other?” asked Cael.
Stuart Baggs fell silent for a moment. His eyes darted upwards and to the right. Cael recognized that he was recalling a visual memory.
“Oh my God,” he said.
“What was it?”
“He brought a Golden Box.”
“A what?”
“The box you place around an assistant when you saw them in half.”
16
One of the major principles of magic was that the magician should never show their audience their secret preparation. To prepare for this trick, he had carved five two-meter long wooden stakes, sharpened at both ends. Even his assistant wasn’t aware of what was coming.
After half an hour, the drugs began to wear off. First she began to shout. Then, when realization of her situation had set in, her screams turned to cries. Her box-coffin hopped along the floor as she tried to escape but there was no way out.
He leaned down to her box and pushed it along the cold stone floor. He felt her kicks against the walls of the box, occasionally making contact with his body. She needed a lot more than that to stop him.
“You’re going to exhibit a fine performance,” said the man. He placed the box at the very center of his theater. “I hope you’re curled up in the right position. The blades are coming.”
In all Indian Basket tricks, the weapons were only shoved into pre-determined areas of the assistant’s box. However, he wasn’t a magician tonight. He was something else entirely. This was no illusion.
He picked up the first stake from the floor. He closed his eyes as he projected it directly through the center of the box.
Deafening screams came from within. The stake had gotten stuck in the middle, likely on the girl’s ribcage. He pushed the stake harder, attempting to penetrate her flesh, bone and muscle. The harder he pushed, the louder she screamed.
Eventually, success. The stake pierced through whatever part of his assistant he had hit and popped out on the other side. Almost instantly, the underside of the box became soaking wet with thick residue. The musty air acquired a copper-like scent.
The second stake came at a 90-degree angle. Through her neck, maybe. Her next cry was only half the volume of her first but this time the stake pierced her flesh without issue.
The third stake came at the opposite angle to the second. This time he felt no resistance until he reached the far-inner side of the box, meaning he had likely pierced her leg or hands.
The last two stakes came at opposing angles, forming a sort of three-dimensional X pattern. Her final resting place jittered as the once-beautiful girl succumbed to the intense pain he had inflicted upon her. She took her last breaths.
Magician’s assistants were usually hired for their beauty and their silence. One had quickly turned into the other.
17
“Do you have any CCTV of this guy?”
“Nope. Sorry. Thugs and gangsters don’t really target magic shops. There’s no real need for excessive security.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about him? We need to know everything we can.”
Stuart Baggs stepped out from behind his counter. He began walking around his store, re-tracing his steps from the day when the mysterious man had paid a visit. Baggs picked up a Bicycle Labyrinth deck, surveyed the packet and then returned it to the display.
Baggs turned to the two boys who were still frolicking with his merchandise. “Boys, would you mind leaving the store for a few minutes? Feel free to come back in 10 minutes or so.”
“Sure thing,” one of them said. The boys headed outside. The second they left, Baggs ushered Cael and Tyler into his back room. The old-style brick-and-mortar walls made for freezing temperatures. On one of the walls, rows and boxes were stacked high.
Baggs pulled down one of the boxes. It was full of DVDs.
“So, this is where you keep your adult section?” Cael joked.
Baggs ignored his comment. He pored over the box, eventually pulling out a DVD with an entirely blank cover. He opened the box and passed the disc to Cael. The word DRAKESTONE was written on it in crude felt-tip pen.
“Drakestone?” asked Tyler. “What’s that?”
“I only just remembered. Before that guy left my store a few weeks back, he asked me if I was familiar with Drakestone. He was a big-name magician in the 80s. He was considered one of the most unique magicians of all time. But in the late 80s, he fell completely off the map. Disappeared.”
“Why?” asked Cael.
“He was performing at the London Palladium one evening. During his final trick of the night, the sawing-a-woman-in half trick, something went wrong with the blade on the apparatus he was using. It’s still debated whether it was his fault or his assistant’s but he ended up sawing his assistant in half in front of an audience of thousands.”
“Goddamn.”
“Not only that, but his assistant was his wife.”
“Then what happened to him?” asked Cael.
“No one really knows. He performed the ultimate magic trick after that. He disappeared from the face of the earth. No one has seen him or heard from him since.”
Cael and Tyler exchanged thoughtful looks. In the detective world, there was no such thing as a coincidence.
“What did you tell your customer?” asked Tyler.
“I told him I knew of Drakestone, yeah, but it was such a strange question. No one really talks about the Drakestone incident because it’s too real, if you know what I mean. Magic is all about deception, fun and childish trickery. The Drakestone incident has none of that. Many magicians don’t want to acknowledge it as real. The Magic Circle even removed all records of his name.”
“But these things can happen, can’t they? I mean, they’re not that rare, right?” asked Cael.
“Yeah, it’s been known to happen. But many magicians won’t touch a trick anymore if there’s any element of danger. It’s not considered magic. Escapology, bullet catches, Indian Basket tricks. That kind of stuff is dying out.”
Tyler’s phone rang in his pocket. He excused himself from the conversation to pick it up.
“That disc is footage of the Drakestone incident,” continued Baggs. “You won’t find it anywhere else. It was included on a magic DVD released years ago but they pulled it from circulation pretty quickly.”
“Did you give a copy of this to your customer?”
“Nope. Didn’t really need to. He seemed to know all about it. He bought into the main theory that Drakestone forgot to switch the real blade for the prop blade halfway through the trick. You’ll see what I mean when you watch it.”
“Thank you for all your help. I’ll let you know if we need anything further,” said Cael.
“One last thing before you go. There are some horrible theories about Drakestone out there. Some people say he went completely insane following his incident. Some people think he still performs to this day underneath a mask.”
“What do you think?” asked Cael.
“I think whoever was in here three weeks ago has some kind of weird obsession with Drakestone.”
Cael sighed. Theories began to form, though Tyler’s sudden interruption thwarted Cael’s thought process.
“Stuart, is there a trick involving a woman being stuffed into a box and being jabbed with swords?”
“Yes. That’s an Indian Basket trick.”
Tyler paused for effect. Suddenly, Cael realized what he was talking about.
“Jesus Christ,” he said.
18
Coldfall Wood was an area of ancient forestry in the north of London. It was around eight miles from their current location.
Andrea herself had summoned the detectives there. A cyclist had reportedly discovered an abandoned cardboard box deep within the forest. Fearing it may have been terror-related, the cyclist had contacted local officials. They quickly discovered something much more bizarre inside.
Cael parked his Ford as close to the forest entrance as possible. However, the yellow crime scene tape had already garnered the attention of curious passers-by and even a handful of journalists.
“Can’t I just run them over?” Cael asked.
“If you can just target the journalists, sure.”
“I need a few whiskeys inside me first. You know, just to improve my driving skills.”
The pair stepped out of Cael’s car and made their way to the forest entrance. They navigated the sea of people before two uniformed officers stopped them. One of them ushered the detectives through the imposing arched gates.
“Follow the main pathway until you come to a fork. Take the first right. You’ll see the forensics officers there,” said one of the officers.
Tyler nodded at him as he and Cael entered the forest grounds.
“Isn’t now the time you put forward some elaborate theory?” asked Tyler as they walked toward their location.
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t seem right. I need to find out more about this Drakestone guy. And I need some more coffee.”
“You need to get one of these,” said Tyler as he pulled out his vaporizer. He took a hit of it. “It’s like an endless cigarette. They come in ridiculous flavors, too.”
“It smells like it. What’s that? Moist vagina flavor?”
“Good one. This is mango and raspberry ice cream flavor.”
“Hideous.”
“Speaking of hideous, here we go.”
The pair arrived at the crime scene. Forensic officers and uniformed London Met officers were gathering evidence and taking photographs of the surroundings.
“I don’t think I even need to see what’s inside that box,” said Cael.
“Nope,” agreed Tyler, “but we’re gonna.”
Two forensics officers moved out of their way as they approached the cardboard box. It had been discarded on a small dirt trail, neatly concealed between two trees. The blood on the side had dried into a dark, almost black color. Cael peeked into the open box.
Inside, a young brunette lay curled up in an inhuman position. Her arms were contorted behind her back, and her right leg had been displaced at the knee. Through the center of her neck was a deep wound, exposing the tendons in her throat. A similar-sized gash had been inflicted through her left thigh, and her chest had been punctured through the rib cage.
“Details?” Cael asked one of the forensics officers.
“We have no idea what the killer stabbed her with but it wasn’t your everyday blade or knife. That’s all we really know until we get her to the Royal London.”
“She was pierced with wooden stakes,” said Cael.
“What makes you think that?”
“That’s how this trick is usually done.”
“Trick?”
“Never mind. Did you find anything else on her body?”
“Nope. She hasn’t been moved at all.”
“May I?” asked Cael.
“Sure,” said the officer, handing him a pair of gloves.
Cael reached down beneath the girl’s body. He felt around the bottom of the box. All he could feel was moisture. It wasn’t here.
“Nothing,” he said. Then he noticed that Tyler had moved about 15 feet away. “Hey, I said it’s not here,” he shouted.
“I know,” he shouted back, “because it’s here.”
Cael rushed over to where Tyler was standing. There, pinned to a tree, was exactly what they were looking for.
Another Jack of Hearts.
19
The London College Library was Cael’s home away f
rom home. He had studied at University College London in his younger years and, given his C-list celebrity status, was still allowed access to its vast resources.
While the names and faces changed, the atmosphere didn’t. The library possessed a constant scent of rich mahogany and the unidentifiable aroma of centuries-old books. Every piece of information under the sun was contained within – something that really put the insignificance of man into perspective.
Earlier in the day, Cael had watched the disc labelled DRAKESTONE. Although it was grainy footage with very little audio, he was able to witness for himself the horrors of what had occurred on that night in 1989.
The man known as Drakestone had presented his wife to the audience in the flamboyant manner that most 80s stage magicians adopted. She had lowered herself onto a metal table. Drakestone placed a box around the body, concealing her from view. Above her, attached to a mechanical arm, was a genuine steel rotary blade.
Drakestone clanged the blade with his fist to certify that it was, indeed, genuine metal. Then a young assistant gave Drakestone a thin sheet of fabric. Drakestone presented the sheet of fabric to the audience. At that point the blade was concealed from view for a few moments. It was at this point that the blade had to be subtly removed, leaving only the fake blade in place.
Drakestone then lay the sheet across his wife, who had strapped herself in place. Drakestone moved to the far side of the stage, then motioned for the stagehand to start up the mechanism. The blade began to spin, then gradually lowered itself toward Drakestone’s wife.
When it reached her, she began to scream. Drakestone rushed over to her, calling furiously for the mechanism to be turned off but it was too late. He had already been sprayed with parts of his wife’s internal organs. Then the camera went black.
While the details of the event were obtainable on the internet, the footage itself had been removed. Most information relating to the mysterious Drakestone consisted of theories offered by those who had become fascinated by his case. Cael noticed that few people in the magic community were willing to discuss the case for fear of the associations that may have arisen as a result.
