Houdini's Last Trick

by David Khalaf

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE PHONE RANG as if from inside Houdini’s head. It vibrated along the fissures of his brain and felt as if it were ripping them apart. He opened his eyes, attacked by morning sunlight, and quickly shut them again.

  But the phone wouldn’t stop. By the ninth or tenth ring, he was up from his bed and stumbling across the room to the wall-mounted phone. He picked up the receiver and was about to speak into the mouthpiece but was interrupted before he could start.

  “What were you thinking, saving Fairbanks from his stupid antics?”

  Louis B. Mayer spat out the words, as if he couldn’t stand to have them in his mouth.

  “What was I supposed to do,” Houdini asked, “let him die?”

  “You were supposed to steal the spotlight away from the movie, that’s what. Instead, you let Fairbanks join in on your shenanigans and suddenly it’s the most elaborate publicity stunt for a movie ever. Have you seen the papers?”

  Houdini rubbed his temples.

  “I’ve been sleeping.”

  “It’s the headline of every newspaper, with a photo of you and Fairbanks swinging across Hollywood Boulevard like Tarzan and Jane. Just listen to this crap!”

  Houdini heard the rustling of newspaper.

  “The Los Angeles Times says ‘Houdini Rescues Fairbanks Before Movie Premiere.’”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Houdini said.

  More rustling.

  “The Examiner calls it ‘a stunt as dangerous and daring as The Thief of Baghdad promises to be.’ The Daily News says, ‘United Artists steps up its game by bringing the action of their movies to the streets of Hollywood.’ Everyone is giving them credit!”

  Houdini opened and closed his fist.

  “I did exactly as you asked. I can’t help what the press says about it.”

  “You shouldn’t have allowed Fairbanks to get involved. That’s where you messed up.”

  “Very well,” Houdini said. “Give me my pay and I’ll be gone this same day.”

  “Pay you?” Mayer let out a mirthless laugh. “It’s United Artists who should be paying you. Fairbanks told the New York Times the stunt was all part of their movie premiere. He said they hired you to entertain the waiting crowds. You won’t get a penny more from me. If you want a paycheck, ask them!”

  Houdini stopped on something Mayer said.

  “The New York Times reported on this?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Mayer said. “This story has gone international. It’s the top headline from Hollywood to Hong Kong. The Chinese are probably reading about me right now, laughing rice out their nostrils.”

  The plan had worked, then.

  “Pack up and get off my studio lot,” Mayer said.

  The phone went dead.

  Now it was just a matter of waiting. How long would it take Atlas to reach Los Angeles? Two days? Three? There would be plenty of time to prepare himself.

  He pulled up the bedspread and jumped when a dark thing tumbled out of it. For a moment he thought it was a rat. But it sat there motionless, a dark blue blob of fabric. It was Pickford’s hat.

  His stomach dropped like a bag of rocks thrown into the sea.

  What have I done?

  Memories of the previous night came flooding back into his mind, a tidal wave frothing with regret.

  Was it the drink that caused him to falter? Was it Houdini’s loneliness in this strange city? No, it was something more. It was Pickford’s beauty. It was mesmerizing. It was supernatural.

  Beauty was the one talent men had fought and died for since the beginning of history. It brought the Achaeans to the gates of Ilium. It cost Samson his strength. Houdini had underestimated its power.

  At first he couldn’t bring himself to touch the hat. Nor could he pull his eyes away from it. He stood there a long time, warring with the quiet piece of felt.

  Finally, he picked it up and smelled it. Light traces of Pickford’s floral perfume remained; he smelled bergamot, lemon, neroli, and orange. He could see her face, feel her long golden curls in his hand. It was alluring and sickening at the same time.

  I am a weak man, growing weaker by the day.

  The magician pulled the hat away from his nose and stuffed it in his pocket. It was his mistake, and he had to make things right. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but because he couldn’t face Atlas on his own. He felt his chest to make sure the Eye was safely around his neck. It was time to gather the others together; he would need them all. He pushed away the question that continued to nag at him.

  After what I’ve done, will they even help me?