Honest illusions(BookZZ.org) Read Free Page B

lid.
    Magically reassembled, the lady stepped out to a round of applause.
    Luke had forgotten all about the fat woman’s purse, but decided he’d gotten his money’s worth.
    As the audience filed out to take a ride on the Loop De Loop or gawk at Sahib the Snake Charmer, Luke sidled toward the stage. He thought maybe, since he’d been a kind of assistant for the card trick, that Nouvelle would show him how it was done.
    “Kid.”
    Luke looked up. From his vantage point, the man looked like a giant. Six feet five inches and two hundred and sixty pounds of solid muscle. The smooth-shaven face was as wide as a dinner plate, the eyes like two raisins stuck slightly off center. There was an unfiltered cigarette dangling from the mouth.
    As ugly went, Herbert Mouse Patrinski had all the bases covered.
    Luke instinctively struck a pose, chin jutted forward, shoulders hunched, legs spread and braced.
    “Yeah?”
    For an answer, Mouse jerked his head and lumbered away. Luke debated for less than ten seconds, then followed.
    Most of the tawdry glamour of the carnival faded to gray as they crossed the yellowed and trampled grass toward the huddle of trailers and trucks.
    Nouvelle’s trailer looked like a thoroughbred in a field of hacks. It was long and sleek, its black paint gleaming in the shadowy moonlight. A flourish of silver scrolled on the side proclaimed THE GREAT
    NOUVELLE, CONJURER EXTRAORDINAIRE.
    Mouse rapped once on the door before pushing it open. Luke caught a scent that reminded him oddly and comfortingly of church as he stepped inside behind Mouse.
    The Great Nouvelle had already changed out of his stage tux and was lounging on the narrow built-in sofa in a black silk dressing gown. Thin plumes of smoke curled lazily upward from a half a dozen incense cones. Sitar music played in the background while Nouvelle swirled two inches of brandy.
    Luke tucked his suddenly nervous hands in his pockets and gauged his surroundings. He knew he’d just walked into a trailer but there was a strong illusion of some exotic den. The scents, of course, and the colors from the plush, vivid pillows heaped here and there, the small richly woven mats tossed helter-skelter over the floor, the draping silks over the windows, the mysterious dip and sway of candlelight.
    And, of course, Maximillian Nouvelle himself.
    “Ah.” His amused smile half hidden by his moustache, Max toasted the boy. “So glad you could join me.”
    To show he was unimpressed, Luke shrugged his bony shoulders. “It was a pretty decent show.”
    “I blush at the compliment,” Max said dryly and waved with the back of his hand for Luke to sit. “Do you have an interest in magic, Mr . . . . ?”
    “I’m Luke Callahan. I figured it was worth a buck to see some tricks.”
    “A princely sum, I agree.” Slowly, his eyes on Luke, Max sipped his brandy. “But a good investment for you, I trust?”
    “Investment?” Uneasy, Luke slid his eyes toward Mouse, who seemed to be hulking around, blocking the door.
    “You took several more dollars out with you than you came in with. In finance we would call it a quick upward turn on your money.”
    Luke resisted, barely, the urge to squirm and met Max’s eyes levelly. Well done, Max thought to himself. Quite well done.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I gotta take off.”
    “Sit.” All Max did was utter the single syllable and raise one finger. Luke tensed, but sat. “You see, Mr.
    Callahan—or may I call you Luke? A good name that. From Lucius, the Latin for light.” He chuckled, sipped again. “But I digress. You see, Luke, while you were watching me, I was watching you. It wouldn’t be sporting of me to ask how much you got, but an educated guess would put it at eight to ten dollars.” He smiled charmingly. “Not at all a bad turn, you see, on a single.”
    Luke narrowed his eyes to slits. A thin trail of sweat dribbled down his back. “Are you calling me a thief?”
    “Not if it offends