‘Oh, sure,’ Jonny sighed as he got to his feet. ‘I just love to revisit the scenes of past humiliations.’
‘My mum says you can never revisit exactly the same place,’ Sophie said with a smile. ‘Either it’s changed, or it’s changed you.’
Jonny felt his head with his hands. ‘That’s too deep for this time of the night … or do I mean morning?!’
The four friends retraced their steps up to the next floor and the function room adjacent to the Montpellier Room. They had already searched it once, very thoroughly, a few hours ago, and nothing had changed since.
‘There’s nothing,’ Jonny sighed. ‘In fact, there’s no evidence any of us were ever here at all. Not us, not Eric Diva, not Belinda, not President Pickle. There’s nothing!’
Sophie and Alex had to nod and agree with him. Zack grinned and patted him on the shoulder.
‘Which just goes to show exactly how they did it!’
21
5 A.M.
Zack wasn’t saying any more than that, so the four friends made their way back to the stairs, Zack leading the way and trailing a wake of smugness behind him for the others to bob about in like buoys in a calm sea.
With any other group of friends, Zack’s behaviour might have been quite irritating, arrogant even. But not to the Young Magicians. They knew he was just toying with them … knowing that each of them was hanging on his every word. And they all knew each of them would be acting exactly the same way if they had been the one to work it all out! This was Zack’s moment. Though Jonny also silently noted that Zack had had a very similar kind of moment solving the Crown Jewels plot last time – greedy-chops!
They reached the lift lobby – and familiar voices came down the stairs towards them.
‘Ay-uh-rick …’
And there were footsteps descending too.
The friends froze for half a second and looked quickly around for somewhere to hide.
(And why did they want to hide? Well, not only were little human beings like these four meant to be confined to their bedrooms at this unearthly hour, but surely only people who were up to something – as the Young Magicians could personally testify – would be wandering around the hotel at five in the morning. And people who are up to something never want to be caught out by other people who are up to something.)
The only ways out were the corridor leading back to reception (too long: Belinda and Eric Diva would get to the bottom of the stairs and see them before they reached it), the lift (too noisy to be subtle, even if it reached the ground floor in time), or … the other stairwell.
And so the four friends waited just long enough to be sure that Eric Diva and Belinda were coming down the left-hand stairwell, and popped up the right-hand one. Not all the way, just far enough to be hidden from anyone on the floor above or the ground floor.
‘I hate (hay-ut) early-morning starts,’ said Belinda’s voice as they reached the ground floor.
‘Likewise, but needs must,’ Eric Diva’s voice answered. ‘We have to give the ballroom a final check before there’s anyone else about.’
‘I need my beauty sleep.’
‘After today, my dear, we won’t need early-morning starts – and besides you do not need any kind of extra beauty!’ Eric Diva declared. ‘The one you already have is overwhelming!’
Halfway up the right-hand stairwell, the Young Magicians rolled their eyes. None of them knew very much about dating, but they were pretty sure that, when the time came, they could manage better than that. If this was Eric Diva’s idea of flattery, no wonder he was single!
Still, now they knew where Belinda and Eric Diva were going, it was easy to follow them. There were so many corners to turn en route, they could always lag just one corner behind and stay out of sight.
The area outside the ballroom was completely dark when the Young Magicians got there, with only a thin ray of light spilling out of one of the sets of double doors, which had been left slightly ajar. Eric Diva and Belinda were now down by the stage. They had found the switches for the house lights and the whole room was lit up.
And that made it very easy for the four friends to lurk outside, unseen, Zack and Sophie poking their head round one of the double doors, Jonny and Alex round the other. Darkness is the illusionist’s friend. When you’re in the dark, looking into the light, you can see everything clearly. When you’re in the light, looking into the dark, it’s much harder.
Eric Diva was on the stage behind the speaker’s podium. Belinda was at the table nearest to the stage, legs crossed, arms folded in front of her.
‘Once he’s made that admission in public,’ Eric Diva was saying, ‘in front of hundreds of witnesses, Pickle will be potted permanently. He’ll never live it down, even when he starts denying he said any such thing. And then we’ll move in, for his own good, for the sake of the society. This time tomorrow, my dear, we shall be running the Magic Circle! Our wilderness years will be behind us.’
‘Finally!’ she agreed. ‘It might not be as big as some of the outfits back home, but it’s old and it’s famous and it’s just the right size for us. For now! But let’s not forget that Cynthia hired the Young Magicians to find out what was going on. Those are four bright minds – do you think they’ll smell a rat?’
Eric Diva snorted. ‘Yes, but Cynthia doesn’t know she hired the Young Magicians to investigate completely the wrong thing! Don’t worry, my dear, the Young Magicians will be putty in our hands!’
The hands of the Young Magicians tightened on the edges of the doors, as four sets of eyes narrowed. So Belinda and Eric had their own agenda this weekend and were up to their necks in this plot! They just needed to catch them out somehow.
‘They’re not stupid, Eric.’
Eric was fiddling with the microphone on the podium, fitting a foam cover over the end of it – the same kind the portable lollipop mics had. If you looked at it from the right angle – for example, from Belinda’s position – it obscured a good portion of his face.
‘No, they’re not,’ he commented absently, ‘but they need us as much as we need them. Sure, they’re famous, but they’re just kids. They need the guiding hands of grown-ups to help them achieve their full potential – and that will be us. President Pickle won’t give them the time of day, while we’ll give them everything they could possibly ask for. We’ll keep them too busy getting what they want to ask questions. They will rise to the top and lift us up the way a rising tide lifts a boat …’
He paused and squinted thoughtfully down at where Belinda was sitting.
‘Problem, Eric?’ she asked.
‘I’m just looking at the front row of tables. Do you think they’re too close to the stage? How do I look from where you’re sitting?’
‘They can’t be too close, that’s for sure.’ Belinda got up and repositioned herself on the front row. ‘Do you think we should move them all back?’
‘Couldn’t hurt … just half a metre or so …’
And it was then that something went ping! in Jonny’s head. His jaw dropped and his eyes glazed.
‘Oh, now that’s clever!’ he whispered.
Ping!
Ping!
The idea leaped from head to head, Jonny to Alex to Sophie and then on to Zack, who already knew it, and so the idea just shrugged and stopped pinging. Job done.
The friends looked at each other. Then they stepped back, away from the doors, into the dark, and walked carefully round the pool of light splashing through from the ballroom so that they would stay unseen from the stage. They reconvened at the back of the corridor and gazed excitedly at each other in the gloom.
Now they knew how Ron and Nancy Spencer had done their act. Which meant they knew how Belinda had done hers. Which meant now they knew what had happened, back in the room where President Pickle vanished, or at least seemed to vanish, in front of their very eyes.
And from that they could work out that the threatening notes were all part of an act – misdirection. Even the near accident in the
Dealers’ Hall had been just that – a near accident, though handy for the plotters to add fuel to President Pickle’s paranoia. His life had never really been in danger. And, as much as it pained Zack to say it out loud, President Pickle wasn’t the bad guy in all this.
‘You’ve worked it out then?’ Zack whispered.
‘It’s so simple!’ Jonny agreed.
‘Totally,’ said Sophie. ‘Totally. And …’ She scowled. ‘Vicious. Nasty. Cruel.’ All the words she would never have dreamed of ascribing to Belinda Vine, with her elegance and grace and kindness.
‘But there’s just one thing …’ Alex pointed out, almost apologetically. They looked at him. ‘We know what they’re going to do, and we sort of know why …’
‘You mean cash in on us?’ Sophie said bitterly. The others looked at her, at the way her face was set, her teeth clenched, her breathing slow and steady – like someone trying very hard not to scream or burst into tears or totally erupt with rage.
Jonny put a kindly hand on her shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely. ‘I know she was your hero.’
Sophie just nodded. She’d get over it, she vowed. She would not let Belinda Vine get away with this.
‘Go on, Alex, continue,’ she said eventually.
‘We just don’t know exactly how they’re going to do it yet, do we?’ Alex finished.
Sophie considered their situation for a moment.
‘And, for that reason, we can’t tell Cynthia,’ she concluded. ‘There’s no proof until they actually do something. If we say what we’ve worked out, they’ll just deny it. We need them to think everything is as it should be and let their plan play out until the last minute.’
‘We’ve got to let the AGM go ahead without saying anything, so we can get the last piece of the puzzle and catch them out in the final few seconds,’ Zack agreed.
‘And you know something?’ Jonny added. ‘It’s going to be a whole lot of fun doing so!’
Sophie paused, then nodded again.
It might be fun for Jonny. For her, it would be justice.
23
7 A.M.
‘Matchsticks,’ Zack croaked. His face was pressed into the tablecloth that smelled of 50,000 shades of breakfast, and his eyes were barely open.
The Young Magicians weren’t the only ones who were not, let’s say, as spritely as a freshly showered Clive Gore on a crisp Christmas morning. Conversation at the other tables was notably muted by the throbbing heads and dry mouths of the older members – some as a result of an excessive stay in the tiny hotel bar, some just because this was what mornings were now like. Even the rattle of cutlery on china sounded apologetic.
The other junior members were fine. Deanna hadn’t got up yet. The remains of Class Act were at one table, immaculately groomed, ties neatly Windsor-knotted and business suits spotless, tucking into something green, minimal and macrobiotic. Max and the now thoroughly corrupted Mayhew and Jackson were at another table. Max’s new friends had ditched their jackets, their collars were hanging open, and Max had introduced them to the wonders of the full English breakfast, getting eggy stains on their clothes for good measure. From their half-closed eyes and dopey expressions, the taste of bacon of a morning was like a new religious experience.
The only adult exceptions were Belinda and Eric Diva – who must have been charged with energy at the thought of the impending overthrow of President Pickle – and Steve and Jane (well, who’d have guessed!) who had missed out on the bar due to their sentry duty, and were their usual chatty, chirpy selves. Which just made the people they were being chatty and chirpy at feel even worse. At least the Young Magicians had the best reason for not being fully on top of it. One hour’s sleep after a busy night. Wheesh!
‘Are these matchsticks for a new trick?’ Jonny mumbled round the rim of his large mug of coffee, which he wouldn’t usually have had the taste for, but then anything for a swift injection of painless caffeine.
‘No, I just need to keep my eyes open,’ Zack admitted. ‘Oh, thanks,’ he added as a box landed in front of him, put there by Alex. With a huge effort, Zack strained with his hands and lifted himself into an upright position. He took the box and fumbled with it so that the matches spilled out on to the tablecloth.
‘Well, get on with it,’ said Sophie. ‘We need to keep our eyes on those two.’
She nodded across the dining room to where Eric Diva and Belinda were cheerfully chatting with some of the council members on the top table, and totally not looking like they’d been up before five, applying the finishing touches to their devilish plot. President Pickle was next to them, moodily pushing a full English breakfast around with his fork like it was still alive. He had obviously loaded it on to his plate out of (bad) habit before he remembered he wasn’t meant to be eating. He didn’t yet know that the Young Magicians had worked out most of the plot and were just waiting for the last pieces to fall into place. He still thought the nasty notes he’d received might have been real.
The Young Magicians had seated themselves on the same side of their circular table so that they could all get a good view of the top table. (The savvy among you may wish to complain to the publishers of this book – in writing – that there is indeed no ‘side’ to a circle. AS YOU WERE!) Alex absently took a match from the spilled pile, held it up, and ostentatiously wrapped an invisible piece of thread (invisible because it didn’t exist, not because it was invisible) round the top with his other hand. He gave the invisible thread a yank and watched the top of the match fly off. No one else noticed. Alex sighed and focused his attention back on the top table.fn1
Cynthia appeared in front of them, unintentionally blocking their view. She didn’t notice when they all subtly leaned to either side of her to see past.
‘Well, dears?’ She gave them a friendly, hopeful smile. ‘Have you got any closer to finding out what’s been going on? Who’s at the bottom of these threats against Edmund?’ She spoke in a kind of hushed, rushed whisper: a sign that she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to receive positive or negative news at this stage.
‘As a matter of fact, we have.’ Zack grinned excitedly. Remembering their mission and addressing Cynthia so directly had somehow boosted his energy levels. Cynthia’s face lit up.
‘And? Please, please tell me! Poor Edmund is at the end of his tether, but he’s so determined to go ahead with the AGM. He has the agenda all prepared, and he does love a good agenda. The one he read out on our wedding day actually lasted longer than the ceremony.’
The friends looked at each other.
‘Well – we just need to let it play out a little bit longer,’ Sophie said. ‘We know what’s going to happen, we’re just not sure how and, until we do, we won’t really have anything to tell you that we can prove.’
Cynthia’s face fell. ‘But – the death threats, the poisoning …’ This didn’t sound like a solution at all!
‘We can absolutely guarantee President Pickle’s in no danger,’ Jonny assured her. ‘That – in fact – is all a brilliantly placed piece of misdirection.’
‘Oh …?’ Cynthia perked up a little and – magician to the core – even looked slightly interested. ‘Well, if you’re absolutely sure …’ she added slowly, trying to fathom whether she’d made the best decision to rely on these young – undoubtedly brilliant – four. But maybe this was an ask too much.
They assured her that, if she would allow them a few more hours, everything would become clear. Cynthia was just turning back to the top table when Alex surprised himself by blurting out a question that had been bothering him since he first set foot in the Magic Circle.
‘Why doesn’t President Pickle like children?’
He flushed a burning red when he realized what he’d done, but words said can’t be unsaid. The others froze, staring at him, then at Cynthia.
Cynthia’s shoulders had braced as if an enormous weight had just dropped on her. Then, slowly, she turned back to face them with a sad smile.
<
br /> Cynthia sighed. ‘Oh dear.’
She pulled back a spare chair at their table and dropped herself into it.
THE STORY OF CYNTHIA AND EDMUND
It was rather sad how it had all turned out.
They had met at the Circle many moons ago, both relatively young and junior magicians, at one of its infamous Easter buffets – a kind of all-you-can-eat affair, or at least that’s how Edmund had approached it – starting in adult life as he meant to go on, really. He’d been performing close-up magic at the table when his and Cynthia’s eyes had met over the two of hearts.
Several romantic days (and nights) later, Edmund clumsily produced a rose out of his top pocket, which accidentally caught on the lining and was torn to shreds, sending the engagement ring he’d stored carefully and precisely in his waistcoat flying and causing him to chase it round the floor of the medium-swish restaurant (Edmund’s compromise between what he wanted to spend, what his instincts said he should spend and how much he could spend) like an odd snuffling pig, sussing out its latest truffle. Eventually, though, and covered in bits of food, he proposed.
And from then on Cynthia was forever Mrs Edmund Pickle, a regular at high-society gatherings, always on display, always polite, a permanent addition to Edmund’s arm – a beaming example of magical excellence as Edmund shot straight to the top of the conjuring hierarchy, from a mere councillor at his local club, to President of the Magic Circle itself – taking Cynthia all the way with him (whether she liked it or not). It didn’t matter that their life now revolved around society dinners, benevolent events and endless conventions. This was Edmund’s calling and Cynthia would accompany him throughout. It was her lot.
And then they’d tried to have children.
It was the one thing that they were truly united on. For the first time a journey that they could embark on together on a purely equal footing. I mean, creating offspring was about as equal as it could get in terms of footings! They entered into it passionately, excited – delighted! – by the prospect of starting their very own magical dynasty. A little baby.
The Young Magicians and the 24-Hour Telepathy Plot Page 19
