Alex Archer - Magic Lantern

He went down in a loose jumble of flesh and blood, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Still holding his hostage, the third robber fired again and again.

Annja ducked and went low. She shoved her left leg out and swept the legs of the man and his hostage from the ground. As they fell backward, the man kept firing, wildly spraying the stone walls on either side of the alley. Trapped between the buildings, the sharp reports rolled like thunder.

She swung the sword at the gun and knocked the weapon from the man’s grip. He tried to get up, made it to his knees, but she met him with the sword hilt between his eyes. The impact snapped his head back and he sank.

Satisfied that the immediate danger was over, Annja released the sword and the weapon vanished. She walked over to the young woman and helped her to her feet.

“You’re all right.” Annja cradled the woman in her arms. “You’re going to be fine.” When her father reached them, she released the woman into his custody and went back to check on Igor.

The big man was just coming around, groaning and still trying to get his breath back.

“C’mon. Let’s get you up and get out of here.” Annja pulled him to his feet.

Igor held an arm across his ribs and stared at the men lying in the alley. Cooks and waitstaff were already taking them into custody.

“What happened?”

Annja shrugged. “The driver’s brakes must have gone out. He hit them and knocked them down.”

“The girl’s not hurt?”

“We got lucky.” That was an easier story than telling the truth to the police. “Let’s go. I really don’t want to spend the whole night in a police station being questioned.”

“Shouldn’t we stay?”

Annja looked at him.

Igor grinned sheepishly. “I mean, I did try to save the girl. Maybe a little publicity will help the business, you know.”

“Right. And that way Doug Morrell will know you got taken out by a couple thugs. Think he’s going to want to keep you around protecting me from Mr. Hyde?”

“On second thought, I’ve never been a glory hound.”

“Right.”

“But we can’t leave just this minute.” Igor looked at the side of the alley. “I have to find my pistol. I must have dropped it. Can you help give us a look?”

2

Professor Edmund Beswick stood on the curb in front of Carlini’s Magic Bullet Club when Annja arrived by cab. He was a few years older than Annja, in his mid-thirties, and was about the same height. His black hair brushed the tips of his ears and he wore a neatly trimmed goatee. His olive complexion hinted at some Indian or Middle Eastern ancestry and lent him an Old World elegance. The dark blue tux and top hat made him look like he’d stepped from the pages of a Charles Dickens novel.

He opened the cab door for Annja and thrust pound notes at the driver.

“I can get that.” Annja had her pocketbook at the ready.

“Nonsense. This evening is my treat. I insist.” Edmund offered her his gloved hand.

Annja took it, then held on to his arm. She wore a simple black dress, but it was one of her favorites and she knew she wore it well. Still, she couldn’t help feeling underdressed.

“I wasn’t expecting anything so formal.”

Edmund grinned. “You look marvelous, and you’ll find that not everyone inside is dressed as pompously as I am.” He waved a dismissive hand. “I tend toward the exotic when I’m given my head. I do hope you’ll forgive me my eccentricities this evening, but this is a special occasion.”

“You look dashing.”

“Thank you. You are most kind.”

Annja surveyed the front of Carlini’s Magic Bullet Club. The first floor of the small building was covered in wooden gingerbread that made it look positively ancient. Red velvet curtains covered the large plate-glass windows. Torchlight created golden pools against the material and shadows moved inside. A red carpet under a small canopy led to the front door, which looked like it would open to a dungeon.

“Now, that looks foreboding.”

Edmund’s smile was so big and innocent, Annja was certain she could see the twelve-year-old he had been. “Doesn’t it just?” he replied.

“And I notice there’s no doorknob.”

“So it’s mysterious, too.” His dark brown eyes twinkled. “Carlini’s is a very special place. No one gets in here who isn’t invited.” He waved a hand and suddenly there was a single red rose in it. He offered it to Annja.

Smiling, she took the rose in her free hand and smelled it. The fragrance was subtle and sweet. “You’re a magician?”

“Alas, you thought I was merely a literature professor?” Edmund feigned a look of pain.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re an authority on English literature. I saw you in an interview on the History Channel and was impressed. When I got this assignment, I knew I wanted you as a guest speaker.”

“I’d wondered about that. Your program doesn’t draw immediate confidence from a cursory look.”

“No.” Annja knew that was true, and it was one of the things she had to accept about the opportunities Chasing History’s Monsters afforded her. “I like to go below the surface of a story.”

“That was true of most of your segments that I saw.”

“Sometimes a good deal of what I’ve prepared ends up on the cutting-room floor. So I have to warn you that some of what I’m doing could end up in the same place.”

“Well, we’ll just have to roll the dice, won’t we?”

“I do put interviews on the television website.” That was a deal Annja had recently negotiated. “Added-value pieces I believe are interesting.”

“Then I shall endeavor to be interesting. I consider it a challenge.”

“That’s hardly fair for you.”

“Trust me when I say that I am a fierce competitor.”

“All right.” Annja grinned in self-satisfaction. She’d known Edmund was going to be intriguing. She was happy to be proven right.

“So how goes your hunt for our new Mr. Hyde?” Edmund looked troubled.

“We’re still looking.”

“Please don’t hold it against me for hoping you’re not the one who finds that man.” Edmund shook his head. “I saw some of the pictures and videos they released of those poor women. I would hate to think of you facing such a brute.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Not with Metro increasing surveillance on the streets.” Annja looked at the pub. “Tell me about this place.”

“Carlini’s has been a home to magic for over a hundred years. All the great masters have come here. Magicians. Escape artists. Illusionists. Mentalists. And prestidigitators of every stripe—fair and foul. They’ve had just as many villains as they’ve had heroes.” Edmund smiled fondly at the pub. “Houdini was here. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, though he came looking for real magic and a way to contact the spirit world. Walter B. Gibson. Robert Harbin. Chung Ling Soo. David Nixon. David Copperfield. Penn and Teller. You’ve heard of the Magic Circle?”

“The organization committed to sponsoring and reimagining magic. Of course.”

“They formed here in London in 1905. Carlini’s predated them. The Great Carlini preferred to keep a lower profile and only invited in the very best in the field. They gave private shows to the royals and other important people, perfected their craft and studied other masters. This was the place where they could be themselves and enjoy magic without the stress of an unfriendly or doubting audience. The people in this place appreciate the orchestration of a skilled magician.”

“It sounds like the hardest audience in the world to play for.”

Edmund grinned. “No. And do you know why?”

Annja shook her head, enjoying his enthusiasm.