Alex Archer - Magic Lantern

“Because magicians want to believe in magic.” Edmund’s eyes sparkled. “Carlini’s guests are the best audience. They live to be astonished, amazed and entertained. Now, observe.” He gestured at the door.

In response, the door quivered, rattled and slowly pulled inward with a theatrical creak that gave Annja goose bumps. She’d been in scary situations before, circumstances that would have gotten her killed if she hadn’t been quick enough or strong enough or lucky enough to get through. But there was something about the atmosphere of the pub, Edmund’s story and her own awakened childish fascination with magic that affected her.

Edmund took her arm and guided her inside.

After the outside door closed, a small yellow light flared to life overhead. The tiny bulb was barely enough to reveal the three wooden doors at the end of the hallway. One door lay dead ahead and the two others were on either side. The doors were unmarked.

“Magic is all about choices.” Edmund waved toward the doors. “Tonight you have three.”

“And if I choose wrong?”

“We go hungry and I don’t get to show you my biggest surprise.” Edmund grinned. “But I have faith in you.” He gestured her forward. “Please have a look. This challenge has been designed for you.”

Annja cocked an eyebrow at Edmund. “You realize we could go hungry.”

“I’ve always found that risk increases appetite and appreciation for a meal.” Beswick looked at her. “I wouldn’t have figured you for someone unwilling to risk.”

Amused, Annja advanced. As she did, a slot opened up in each door and a three-by-five notecard slid out to hang from each of them.

“Kind of creepy.”

Edmund just smiled and waited.

Examining the cards, Annja discovered the one on the left door had a drawing of a chicken in charcoal-gray ink. The middle door had a drawing of an egg in brown ink. The third one she wasn’t quite sure of but it was black and the drawing was etched deep into the card. She pointed to it. “What’s this?”

Edmund shook his head. “The best I could do at drawing a chicken nugget.”

“A chicken nugget?”

“Yes.”

“So the obvious correlation would be that I’m supposed to pick the door that comes first?”

“If that’s what you think.”

Annja examined the cards again, more closely this time. She paid particular attention to the drawings, the ink and the shape of the lines. She even smelled them to confirm her conclusions. “If you listen to a biologist, the biologist would say that the egg comes first. But a theologian would insist that the chicken came first.”

Edmund’s face remained unreadable.

“However, a mystery lover could be tempted to pick the chicken nugget simply because it doesn’t fit, or because it’s not a natural thing, as the chicken and the egg are.” Annja smiled. “You went to a lot of trouble.”

“Then you already know the answer?”

“Yes.” Annja knew she’d surprised him. He hadn’t thought she would fail, but he hadn’t expected her to succeed so early. “But only because you went to such great detail to make your clues.”

“Elucidate.”

“The answer is in the inks, and somewhat in the drawings, but not in what was drawn.”

Edmund smiled in startled appreciation. “You are good.”

Annja pointed to the egg. “That ink is atramentum, or it’s supposed to be. It’s a replica of a Roman ink made about sixteen hundred years ago. You can tell because it’s faded out and has turned brown. That’s because it was made from iron salts and tannin. It goes on bluish-black, then fades to brown.”

She moved on to the nugget. The image was drawn deeply into the card with fine, black lines. “This ink was called masi and was created in ancient India about 400 BCE. The drawing is deep and thin because they used needles to write with. So did you. Quite a good touch on that, actually.”

Edmund inclined his head in thanks.

“This, however, was the first.” Annja touched the drawing of the chicken. “The ink is graphite based and it was drawn with an ink brush. When you look closely, you can see the brushstrokes. This ink, or at least the original, was created by the Chinese about 1800 BCE. Definitely the first.”

Edmund quietly applauded her. “Bravo, Ms. Creed. Quite the performance.”

Annja curtsied, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Did you think of this little test yourself?”

“No. I must admit that I had help. After all, I’m just a professor of English and literature. This was beyond my ken.” Edmund walked to the door with the chicken on it and the door opened before he reached it.

A large man in a good suit greeted Edmund with a warm handshake. He had a high forehead and glasses and looked to be in his sixties. “Welcome, Ms. Creed. It is indeed an honor.”

“Annja Creed, may I present Gaetano Carlini, the current owner and host of the Magic Bullet Club. Gaetano, my beautiful guest, Ms. Annja Creed.”

Totally charmed by the big man, Annja offered her hand and he took it, bowed deeply and kissed the back of it. “Please come in and make yourselves at home. I have your table this way.” Gaetano swept them into a large dining room.

* * *

“OVER THE YEARS, MS. CREED—”

“Please call me Annja.”

Gaetano nodded solemnly. “Annja. Over the years, Carlini’s has been host to a number of important and famous people.” He gave a careless shrug. “And, at times, some who were more infamous than famous.”

“But no one that was ever shot or hanged for their crimes.” Edmund swirled his wine around in the fluted glass.

“Thankfully, no. We’ve never had that notoriety.” Gaetano pushed the glasses up on his nose. “But we do ask one favor of those guests, other than to enjoy themselves while they are here.”

Annja sat at the small, intimate table in the center of the ornate dining room lined with stage magic memorabilia and framed caricatures of magicians. Her red rose occupied a small vase in the middle of the table. They were adjacent to the small, curtained stage. Noises came from the back, so Annja knew something was going on. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

“What would that favor be?” Annja nibbled on a piece of Havarti cheese.

“To allow me to sketch a caricature to hang on our wall.”

“Gaetano is very good. Very knowledgeable about a great many things. Including history.” Edmund sipped his wine. “He’s the one who helped me figure out your puzzle.”

Gaetano waved the compliment away.

“In another life, had not magic called to him so strongly, I fear he would have been a forger.”

“Oh, now I’m offended.” But the big man’s boisterous laugh plainly indicated he was more flattered than anything.

“I would love for you to draw a caricature of me. But I’m not a magician.”

“I beg to differ.” Gaetano sat up straight in his chair. “I have seen many episodes of your television show. You are a great performer at revealing some of history’s best-kept secrets. I knew who you were before this youngster did.”

Edmund held up his hands in surrender. “Sadly, that’s true. I told him I’d gotten an email from an American archaeologist regarding the Mr. Hyde murders.”

“He was set to turn you down.” Gaetano shook his head in mock exasperation. “Silly boy.”

“In my defense, it was only because the murders were so heinous. I didn’t want to contribute to the gratuitous exposure of the misfortunes of others. That was before I spoke with you and you assured me that would not happen.”

“It won’t.” Annja fully intended that the Mr. Hyde piece, if it aired, wouldn’t dwell on the murders as much as it did the legend. Hopefully the London Metro police would have the killer in hand by then, as well.