by Robert Brown
“There’s no CCTV in that stupid place – at all?” asked Tyler.
“Apparently not. The Magic Circle is all about secrets. With CCTV, they’d risk someone hacking it and exposing them,” said Cael. “Or something.”
“I told you it was stupid.”
“I wish I could disagree.”
“So, what are you thinking?” asked Tyler.
“At the minute, my money is on this being someone obsessed with the Drakestone case. The chances of it being Drakestone himself? Maybe. I don’t know. But given what Barker told me was in Drakestone’s notes, we can’t rule it out.”
“I’ve got Tech searching everywhere for William Wood. The only problem is that it’s a pretty common name. But if he’s out there under his real name, they’ll find him.”
“It all seems a bit ghost story to me,” said Cael. “Magician goes insane. Institutionalizes himself. Then escapes and goes on a killing spree.”
“But that might not be the case,” said Tyler. “Think about what the chief said. Twenty-seven years ago, another young girl was killed and a Jack of Hearts was left at the crime scene.”
“You mean, what if he’s been doing this for years?”
“Exactly.”
“And his victims’ deaths were just assumed to be magic tricks gone wrong.”
“Bingo.”
“Stuart Baggs did say this kind of stuff happens from time to time.” The cogs in Cael’s brain began to turn. “Shit. Get Tech to look into any deaths ruled accidental in the past 30 years.”
“On it,” said Tyler. “Well, actually, I would be but they’ve all gone home.”
“Part-timers.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Speaking of that, isn’t your wife wondering where you are?” asked Cael. “I only just realized how late it is.”
“Nah. She know I wouldn’t dare have an affair. Least of all with you.”
“Good one.”
“Compared to a pissed-off Samantha Easton, a serial killing sadist is a walk in the park.” Tyler laughed.
Cael placed the two Jack of Hearts cards on his desk. The card discovered at Lana Dixon’s crime scene was a regular Bicycle playing card easily purchasable anywhere. It didn’t give them any new information.
Jacks, saw blades, magic tricks, Drakestone, theatrics, occult ramblings, drawings of gravestones, insanity, mental hospitals. Incoherent thoughts filled Cael’s head. Somehow, they all fit together.
Suddenly, the vibrations from his phone pulled him out of his haze.
Tomorrow night? Dinner? Let’s try again?
In truth, Cael had forgotten all about his date from the previous week. He had made a mental note to text her but had failed to do so. He was surprised she had made the effort to contact him again.
Done. Same place as last time. I owe you a chicken parmesan, he replied.
“I’ll get on the Tech guys tomorrow. Well, today. I won’t be around myself because my kids are off school. I’ve got to make sure none of them found my porn collection.”
“As good a reason as any,” said Cael. “I’ll do both our jobs, then.”
27
He had risked everything to get his notes back. Luckily, decades in the magic community had given him a unique skill: the ability to blend in. When he passed people in the Magic Circle hallways, he had simply nodded in their direction and continued on his journey. A wise man had once told him you could steal anything if you were wearing a suit, and he had put that advice into practice.
Not only had he put it into practice, he’d executed it in one of the most secure buildings in the London area. The last time he had been in that building was the same evening as his fateful performance at the London Palladium in 1989. Back then, it wasn’t the hub of magic that it was today but it was certainly a magician’s hangout. That evening, however, everything changed.
He never went back for fear of aggression from others. Was it his fault she had died? Only he knew the truth. Besides, he had no real need to return to the Magic Circle. He had become something much better, much more than a simple trickster.
However, when the authorities became involved in his affairs, he knew that hiding his notes would be an indication of guilt. Instead, he left everything as it was but the Magic Circle had to stick their noses in. They took his notes for themselves, leaving him to execute his plans from memory.
Fortunately, everything he needed to know was safely stored in his memory palace. As it should be – he had been rehearsing it for long enough. And now, almost three decades later, he had returned to those fateful halls.
In a way, he wished it were more difficult. Was this what magic had become? No wonder he had yearned for something more all these years. He was better than they were. They were simply human. As the great magician Robert Houdini famously said: A magician is an actor, playing the part of a magician. Even the most skilled illusionists would eventually succumb to the frailty of the human system. To old age, to cancer, to heart failure.
To dismemberment. To mutilation.
However, his story would be different. For a moment he had considered taking the life of that son of a bitch Raymond Barker. He had developed a taste for killing, and Barker’s death would surely be sweet, despite how unnecessary it may be to his cause.
But then, at the very moment he was debating Raymond Barker’s fate, he had seen the famous detective walk out of the Magic Circle’s doorway.
28
Same bar. Same woman. Same indecisive nature when it came to food choice.
Second dates were a rare occurrence in Cael Adler’s world. Not simply because he was married to his work but because once they discovered he was a private detective, something was set off in them that didn’t work in his favor.
On paper, a private detective seemed like an attractive job for a partner. It contained the right combination of mystery, sexiness and masculinity. However, the reality wasn’t quite as clean-cut. When the ladies in his life realized that being a private detective involved sleepless nights spying on someone from a freezing vehicle, an irregular work schedule and very little job security, they soon made themselves scare.
Luckily, Kelly Owen hadn’t quite realized what she had gotten herself into yet.
“Drinks are on me this time,” said Kelly.
“Whoa, what have I done to deserve that?” asked Cael.
“Well, despite what little time we had together last week, I realized I enjoyed it.”
“Well, thank you. I aim to please.”
“So, are you going to tell me the truth this time?” she asked.
“Sure. It was a lucky guess. I had no idea you wanted the chicken parmesan. I just took a stab in the dark.”
Kelly laughed. “Damn it. Here’s me thinking I’d found myself a real-life wizard.”
“I can make whiskeys disappear pretty quickly.”
“I knew you were lying. So, tell me, what’s your real job?”
Cael owed it to her. “I’m a private detective. But…’
“But…?”
“But something tells me you already knew that.”
“Busted.”
Cael laughed. The waitress brought them a whiskey and Coke and a large red wine. Cael took in the scent. Jura. The best whiskey there was. Right now, magic was far from his priority.
“What gave it away?” he asked.
Kelly pulled out her mobile phone. She turned it around to show Cael the screen. Right there, beneath the headline SECOND MURDER PROMPTS PRIVATE DETECTIVE’S INVOLVEMENT was his picture taken right outside the Magic Circle headquarters.
“Shit,” he said.
“What?” asked Kelly. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you’ve seen your name in print.”
“Not even close but this means someone knows.”
“Someone knows what?”
“I can’t really say. What’s the article about?”
“Something about a serial killer operating in London. The London Met has had
to call you in to assist. Here, have a look.”
Cael skimmed the article. It was written by a regular Daily Mail columnist. A glimmer of hope filled him, as the article’s opening paragraphs made no mention of the magic community.
Then his heart sank.
It is believed that the murders may be related to infamous murder-magician Drakestone. The London Met refused to comment.
“Psst,” said Kelly. “Don’t worry. Normal people don’t know who ‘Drakestone’ is.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Nope. I actually Googled him but I got nothing useful.”
“Thank fuck.”
“I’m sorry for bringing it up. I thought you might be interested.”
“Thank you. It’s important I know what’s going on. The media are very important in investigations like this. The only problem is that they usually print bullshit.”
Kelly stuffed her mobile phone into her handbag. She took a drink of her wine.
“Red wine, ain’t that fine,” she said. “So, have you decided what you’re having yet?”
“I usually need two whiskeys before I make my decision. Have you?”
“Same as before. Keeping it simple. Hurry up and down that whiskey because I’m hungry.”
Cael did exactly as he was told. He found something incredibly appealing about a woman who gave him instructions. He tipped the tumbler against his lips, letting the sweet, smoky aroma engulf his taste buds. Then, just as the week’s troubles began to fade in favor of more pleasant emotions, something caught his eye.
Something had been taped to the bottom of his glass. He turned the tumbler over in his hands.
“What’s wrong?” asked Kelly.
Cael didn’t respond. What little he could make out, he recognized instantly. It was the back pattern of a standard Bicycle playing card. It had been folded in half.
“Are you doing another magic trick?” she asked.
Cael shook his head. He peeled off the tape keeping the card in place. It fell to the table.
“Cael, what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He checked his surroundings. First, his thoughts turned to who could have come in contact with the tumbler while he’d been sitting at his table.
No one.
Who could have come in contact with the glass at all?
Waiters. Waitresses. Bartenders. Any staff in the whole building. Any person in the building, for that matter.
Covertly, he opened the playing card. It was exactly as he expected. A Jack of Hearts. But there was something else too.
“Cael? Where did that come from?”
“The waitress brought us these drinks, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Kelly. “Why?”
In black pen, a note had been written on the face of the card.
THERE WILL BE A BIG EVENT IN LONDON TONIGHT. DON’T MISS IT.
“Because he’s here.”
29
It was 9 p.m. on March 14, 2017. Unfortunately, Cael had left his date early one more time. As per usual, the hazards of his job interfered with his search for the perfect partner.
Being so close to an ongoing murder investigation was something a lot people assumed they would enjoy. It was thrilling, captivating, and memorable. But in reality it simply meant that the person was closer to death than they needed to be. People spent their lives avoiding the inevitability of death, so when they were forced into its midst, they found themselves desperately trying to escape.
Kelly had been no different. Cael didn’t blame her.
Tyler’s call came through to Cael as he drove around the London landmarks.
“Sorry I missed your call. Kids were being shitheads. What’s up?”
“He targeted me.”
“What?”
“I was at a bar with someone. He left a note for me. It said there was going to be a ‘big event’ in London tonight. Someone else is going to die. We have to find them.”
“Is that all you have to go on?”
“Yes.”
“On my way.”
30
Between them, the pair searched every London landmark they knew of. The London Eye, Tower Bridge, The Shard, Richmond Park, Piccadilly Circus. Everywhere.
But there was no sign of anything.
According to Trey Herrera, the head of tech at London Met, news of this bizarre ‘event’ had been discovered on the internet. All around London, playing cards identical to the one on Cael’s glass had been littered throughout the streets. All across social media, people had taken pictures of the cards and posted them. However, as of yet, no one knew exactly what it meant.
Cael found himself sitting in his Ford on the edge of Euston. He had assumed that, if anywhere, the event would take place in or near the Magic Circle headquarters. Unfortunately, he found nothing.
He sat in complete silence for about two minutes, his internal narrative drowning out the distant murmur of voices.
Suddenly, his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Rivendare Bridge,” said the voice.
“Who is this?” asked Cael.
“Raymond Barker. Get to Rivendare Bridge. It’s near Paddington. That’s where it’s going to happen.”
Cael started his engine. Paddington was about 20 minutes away.
“I’ll be there in ten. What’s going on?”
“No time to explain. Get there quickly.”
31
Eleven minutes later, both Cael and Tyler had abandoned their vehicles on Rivendare Bridge. Steps led below it to an outflow of the Thames River. Cael saw Tyler in the distance. He mimed a shrugging motion.
From farther down the river, a voice called out to them.
“Down here.”
The two detectives followed the voice. Night had fully set in. The skyward trees on either side of them cast a solemn darkness across the riverbank. Eventually, Raymond Barker’s slim-but-built figure came into view.
Beneath the silver moonlight, he looked at Cael as though he were doing some kind of bizarre dance. When Cael got closer, he realized Barker was pointing toward something on the other side of the river. Cael followed his gesture. Then he froze in place.
Like something out of a surrealist painting, on the other side of the river, perfectly-placed on a small patch of land, was a gigantic cylinder water tank. Tyler caught up with Cael. He immediately stopped in his tracks.
Without hesitation, Cael jumped into the river and began swimming across. The water was deep, heavy and murky. Its freezing temperatures rooted him in place for a moment before he summoned the strength to move. Within seconds, he was across the river’s width. He pulled himself up to the other side.
Inside, a young girl floated, lifeless. Cael banged on the glass with his palms. There was no way he could break it. At the top of the tank, just out of Cael’s reach, was a padlock.
“Cael, move out of the way,” shouted Tyler.
Cael turned around to find Tyler pointing a gun in his direction. There was nowhere for him to run. Almost instinctively, he dived back into the river.
Tyler fired. The glass cracked. He fired again. And again.
Finally, the glass began to give way. One more shot.
The glass panel at the front of the tank shattered into a million pieces. The water inside the tank ran out over Cael, pushing him back beneath the murky river waters.
The girl inside slumped to the ground. When he could, Cael jumped out of the river for a second time. He kicked away the remaining glass shards and lay the girl on the ground. He pumped her heart in the vain hope of resuscitating her. He performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, then returned to pumping her heart. Tyler immediately called in medical assistance.
It wasn’t the first time Cael had attempted to resuscitate a drowning victim. Death by drowning was a cruel way to go. It caused no physical harm yet was one of the most brutal ways to pass out of existence.
But something was different about this girl. She hadn’t passed; there was still a life about her. He continued to use resuscitating techniques on her. He refused to give up.
Above them on Rivendare Bridge, a crowd of onlookers had gathered, likely having heard Tyler’s gunshots. Among their whispers was the sound of ambulance sirens.
Just when Cael thought he had lost the battle, the young girl lying in his arms began spluttering out water from her lungs.
32
In less than five minutes, the crowd above them had grown to hundreds. The killer was right; there had been a big event that night but it was a performance that Cael, Tyler and Barker had ended prematurely.
“He wanted us to find her,” said Cael.
“Sure. It’s part of his big show, right?”
“Yeah but we ruined it. He wanted her to die in front of an audience.”
“And wanted us to look like the fools who couldn’t save her,” added Tyler.
Police officers, medical personnel and forensics officers arrived on the scene. The victim – whoever she was – was breathing but unconscious. How long she had been inside the water tank remained a mystery, as did how the killer had managed to get her there without attracting attention.
On the side of the river sat a distraught Raymond Barker. In a plain white t-shirt, jeans and a fleece jacket, he looked a far cry from the Magic Circle director with whom Cael had met the previous day.
Cael sat down next to him. Neither knew what to say.
“How did you know?” Cael asked finally.
“There are some things about Drakestone I never told you.”
