by Robert Brown
“Hmm, well…”
“Hurry up. We don’t have much time.”
“Back in my day there was a basement that one of the stages used as a trap door. But it’s been renovated since then. As far as I know, the underground part isn’t used anymore.”
“How do I get down there?”
“At the very back of the theater, off Argyll Street, there’s a small staircase leading downwards. I’m pretty sure it’s been blocked off now, though.”
“Thanks.”
“But this was 20 years ag-”
Cael ended the call. They didn’t have time for a history lesson. “Follow me.”
The pair ran to the back of the theater. In their wake, a thousand eyes followed them as they leapt through the night. Eventually, they came to a staircase that spiraled downwards below ground level. At the bottom was a black fire door.
“In there?” asked Tyler.
Cael pointed to the edge of the street. There, both detectives saw the white van that had been abandoned on the side of the road. Tyler didn’t wait for an answer.
They jumped down the spiral staircase only to be greeted by a locked door.
“Barker said this place might have been sealed off.”
“Nothing is sealed when you’re with me,” said Tyler, taking three steps backward. He projected his right foot against the locked door. The bang reverberated through the London streets.
One more kick. Bang. The door flew open. “Fuck Houdini,” said Tyler. “I can open any lock too.”
They ran inside. It appeared to be some kind of maintenance warehouse for the London Palladium above, although it looked like no one had been there in years. The place was as dark and damp as Knave’s workshop in Camden but with one noticeable difference.
It was impossibly long, like a labyrinthine maze. At first glance, it appeared to cover the length and width of the entire theater.
Tyler’s voice echoed throughout the tunnels.
“Come out, you son of a bitch. You won’t escape this time.”
They edged deeper inside, fearing that at any second their killer would pounce from the dark. Cael wedged a handful of crates against the door to stop anyone trying to silently escape.
Tyler withdrew his handgun.
“Where did you get that?” asked Cael.
“I’m special,” replied Tyler. “I’ve never shot anyone with it but that’s going to change tonight.”
“Don’t kill him for the sake of it.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m going to blow his fucking legs off.”
Cael didn’t respond. As they exited the area containing the Palladium’s electrics, a vast chamber came into view. There, in all its horrific glory, was the Grave Dancer.
“Oh my God.”
49
“Every magician wants to perform the ultimate magic trick but the truth is, there isn’t one.”
“You don’t have to do this, Jack.”
In all his years of detective work, Cael had never seen something so elaborate. In front of him was a makeshift theater. On the elevated stage, Jack Wood and Samantha Easton stood entangled together with rope. Next to them, a gigantic red container stood ominously.
“Ladies and gentleman, what I’m about to perform is the closest you will ever get to the ultimate magic trick. It’s considered the most dangerous illusion of all time, and I’ve added a little something extra.”
Jack had removed his fake moustache and wig and had returned to the scrawny, short-haired, deluded middle-aged man he truly was.
“If anyone attempts to set foot near the stage, I will pull on this rope. Inside this container is three tons of soil. When it comes out, there will be no stopping it. The soil will crush the internal organs of both me and my beautiful assistant.”
“Jack, all that’s going to happen is you’ll be crushed to death. You won’t be reborn with immortality. You and Samantha will die. Nothing else.”
“Such a feeble mind. You’re just like all the other magicians out there. Simple, childish trickery. I’m something else entirely. I was born into this. This is my fate.”
Cael and Tyler exchanged glances. Both were running the same possibilities through their heads. Tyler could fire but would risk hitting his wife. They didn’t know if Jack was bluffing about the soil inside the container but it wasn’t a risk they could take.
From the shadows behind them, a voice called out.
“It’s been a long time.”
Cael and Tyler turned around. Tyler aimed his handgun toward the newcomer.
“Who the hell are you?”
As the man came into view, Cael reached out and lowered Tyler’s gun. He met his eyes and shook his head.
“You were such a promising young boy,” said the man. “What went wrong?”
The man known as Drakestone positioned himself between Cael and Tyler.
“Dad?”
“I’m surprised you remember me.”
Dressed in an elegant black suit and white shirt, the older man looked worlds apart from the shabby, disheveled gentleman whom Cael had met at St. Mary’s Mental Hospital. Covertly, he placed his hand in Cael’s.
A note.
“I’m going to approach you, son. I just need to see you one final time.”
Cael unfolded the piece of paper in his hand.
I WILL DISTRACT HIM. SAVE THE GIRL.
Jack stepped out of his grave with Samantha Easton in tow. She was still disoriented from the drugs in her system. The pair were joined at the wrist, with Samantha’s arms and legs shackled together.
“No,” said Jack. “You’re weak.”
“Jack, the detectives are right. This is no illusion – this is real.”
“That’s the point. I’ve been leading up to this for 30 years. I’m going to be so much more than you ever were.”
“You already are, son,” said Drakestone. “You’re a much better magician than I ever was. If I was any good, I wouldn’t have accidentally ended the life of your mother.”
“No. Don’t you dare. I killed her. She was my first.”
“I’m afraid not. It was all my fault. I didn’t switch the real blades for the fake ones.”
“No, no, no!” said Jack. “There were no fake blades in that routine. I remember it. Don’t lie to me.”
“Son, you were 16 years old. I told you a lot of lies back then.”
Drakestone edged up the makeshift ramp to the stage. He got a clear view of the deep grave his son had dug.
“Kid, I know you got involved with the occult. I saw your drawings. I knew exactly what you were into. I know you think you switched the restraints that night but I changed them back.”
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying. I killed her. It was all me. You had no idea.”
“Please. I was at the top of my game 30 years ago. You might be better than I am now but if you think I couldn’t tell that part of my magic apparatus had been altered, you’re a bigger fool than I am.”
Jack picked up the container rope from the ground. “Come any closer and I’ll pull. She’ll die.”
“So will you.”
“I don’t care. You’ve ruined everything.”
Suddenly, a gunshot came from the darkness. Tyler had aimed for the piece of rope holding Samantha to Jack’s wrist. He had singed it. The rope began to burn away.
“That’s it, she’s dying,” screamed Jack but his father interrupted his actions. Drakestone launched himself at his son, pushing him in the direction of the container. The rope in Jack’s hands went slack, rendering him unable to open the container doors. Samantha fell with them, the adrenaline forcing her out of her disorientation.
“What the fuck?” she screamed. Quickly, she realized what was going on. She tugged on her restraints but to no avail. Tyler and Cael ran in to join the battle but they stopped in their tracks when Jack picked up the rope to the container doors.
“Stop, or we all die,” he screamed.
“Fucking shoot him
,” screamed Samantha.
Tyler looked her in the eyes. He shook his head. He mouthed the words not yet.
On the floor directly in front of the container doors lay the man known as Drakestone. He was no longer a physical man. He was weak, fragile.
“Follow me into hell,” Jack said to Samantha. Still with the rope in his hand, he walked slowly to the edge of his homemade grave. “Thank you for making my final trick so memorable,” he said. “Goodbye, Dad.”
With an aggressive pull, the doors to the metal container swung open. Endless soil flooded out from within, like an avalanche on the mountains of hell. Without a second to think, Tyler shot a second bullet at the same mark as before. It connected. Instinctively, Cael jumped between Jack and Samantha. He pushed her to the ground, snapping the rope between her and her captor in the process. Both of them rolled on the ground as three tons of soil buried Cael’s bottom half. Samantha rolled out of harm’s way into the arms of her husband.
It was all over in a matter of seconds. Tyler pulled Cael from the soil, forcing him to lose his shoes in the process. After 30 seconds of recovery, the three of them turned around to survey the chaos.
It was over.
50
Within 10 minutes, London Met officers and local paramedics arrived on the scene, and it was a scene no one truly expected to find beneath a prestigious London theater.
Both Drakestone and his son had disappeared beneath the earth. Tyler swore both of them had ended up in Jack Wood’s purposely-dug grave but Cael thought he had seen Drakestone escape. However, like two true magicians, they had both vanished in a surge of theatrics. Cael and Tyler had dug around the soil near the container doors but no magician, either father or son, revealed himself.
“Was he making all that shit up?” asked Tyler.
“I really don’t know anymore,” said Cael. “The only person who knows the truth just got buried alive.”
51
He never found it difficult to say goodbye. Maybe because he met these people only under such grim circumstances, or maybe because he didn’t actually like them.
Or maybe because he knew he’d see them again. In a month, a year, three years. Whenever.
“My guess is, he worked as a janitor for the Palladium to get access underneath. His hideout wasn’t in use anymore. The mains for the theater have been completely re-located. Everything in there was basically abandoned.”
“What about his dad?” asked Andrea. “Do we know what happened to him?”
“We’ve dug out the entire area,” said Tyler. “Drakestone is nowhere to be found.”
“But we found the killer?”
“Yes. He was crushed to pieces. Another victim of the buried-alive trick,” said Cael.
“And, surprisingly, he didn’t resurrect.”
“Shocker,” said Andrea. “Anyway, we couldn’t have done it without you, Adler. I know I say it every time but its true: You’re a shit but I like you.”
Cael laughed. “The feeling is mutual. I’ll no doubt be seeing you again soon.”
“Let’s hope not.”
Tyler extended his hand. “Another one down.”
“I’m sorry for insisting you go to that magic show,” said Cael.
“And I’m sorry I went,” Tyler laughed. “Don’t worry. Samantha said that despite her ordeal, the first two acts of the night were pretty good.”
Cael smiled.
“We got him. That’s what matters,” said Tyler.
“I can’t disagree.”
And with his closing remarks, Cael Adler left the hallways of the London Metropolitan Police offices one more time. What would come next? He didn’t know. He just knew he needed a day off from thinking about magic.
In the London Met car park, a young lady tapped him on the shoulder as he stepped into his Ford.
“Cael,” she said.
“Samantha. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to say thank you for pushing me out of that maniac’s way. If it wasn’t for you, this might have ended a lot differently.”
“Don’t thank me. It was Tyler’s illegal gun-toting that saved you. I had the easy part.”
The pair laughed.
“Oh, I found this in my pocket. I think he shoved it in there,” said Samantha. She pulled out a playing card and passed it to Cael.
A final Jack of Hearts.
“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” he said, “but remember that if it wasn’t for you being in the wrong place at the right time, there’d be at least one more victim out there.”
“Take care, Cael,” she said.
“You too. Oh, and remind your husband that he owes me a new pair of shoes.”
52
No phones. No interruptions and certainly no magic.
Those were the rules for his and Kelly Owen’s third attempt at a date.
“Three dates? This is getting serious,” she said from across the table. As before, whiskey and Coke and red wine were in free-flow.
“This isn’t our third date,” said Cael.
“Of course it is.”
“No, this is our third first date.”
“Ah, okay. Sure, I’ll take that.”
“And I’m going to make sure you get that chicken parmesan with zucchini pasta. Not to mention blind drunk.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
A waiter appeared at their table. He was a distinguished older gentleman – slicked-back black hair, perfectly-groomed beard and a pair of thick black glasses.
“Mr. Adler,” he said. “Welcome to our fine establishment. Anything you order is on the house.”
As Cael and the waiter’s eyes met, Cael knew he had met him before. In a different life, in a different world – a world of illusion where the truth was wrapped inside a lie. Without Cael’s even ordering it, the waiter dropped another whiskey and Coke on the table.
“I’ll be back with your red wine, ma’am,” he said.
Déjà vu began to set in. Beneath his glass was a note. Cael lifted the tumbler of whiskey.
“Not again,” said Kelly. “Please no. Not again.”
“Somehow I don’t think that will be the case.” Cael removed the folded-up piece of paper. He unraveled it. He read it to himself.
I hope I didn’t confuse you that night beneath the Palladium. I assure you that I was entirely unaware of my son’s actions. For years, I blamed myself but you made me realize I didn’t need to do so. You were the first person to protest my innocence. For that, I am eternally grateful. I am now free to live my life without feeling the burden of guilt. As it turns out, my magic skills still have many uses in today’s world. P.S. I know you’re wondering how I escaped that night but you of all people should know that a real magician never gives up his secrets. Yours eternally, Drakestone.
“What’s it say?” asked Kelly.
“Nothing. It’s a special cocktail menu,” said Cael. “Purposely reserved for C-list celebrities like me.”
The waiter returned with a red wine and a pitcher of a completely black cocktail.
“Red wine for the lady,” he said, setting down her drink. “And I’ve got something special for both of you.” Plumes of sweet-smelling vapor poured from the pitcher.
“What’s this?” asked Kelly.
“One of our finest cocktails. Give it a try.”
“What’s it called?”
“An Impossible Illusion.”
About the Author
Robert Brown is an author and former freelance journalist in is mid-forties from California. Having been born and raised in the UK he moved to the US as a teenager with his family where he now lives with his wife and two children.
Robert has always been intrigued by true crime which led in part to his previous career of a freelance journalist writing for local publications primarily about unsolved murders. It was obvious to Robert that his passion for this genre would lead to him writing his first book “The Deadly Illusion” in 2017.
Apart from wr
iting Robert loves to spend time with his family and to indulge his other passion of the great outdoors. Having been raised in the UK it’s no surprise that Robert is also a keen anglophile which is also reflected in his writing.
Robert has a unique writing style that uses both his UK and US backgrounds that creates stories that can be enjoyed by readers on both sides of the pond. Keep an eye out for further publications from Robert soon.
