The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus

Chapter 3

"And just what talents do you plan to present to this circus that will entice them to employ you? Acrobatics?" Angelina asked.

"Not quite-although I could if I tried."

"I am sure that you could. Despite…"

"Despite my advanced years?" I said in a cracked and ancient voice. Then leapt into the air and clicked my heels together five times before I landed. She applauded enthusiastically.

"I think I will do something less strenuous." I took a fivecredit coin from my pocket and let it roll from finger to finger across the back of my hand. "Magic. I have always been a keen amateur. And as a cardician—even more than that."

"Cardician? I thought they just called it cheating at cards?"

"That is the technical term magicians use when referring to this particular skill. I will demonstrate."

I took a sealed deck of cards from the shelf and tore off the wrapper. Fanned them out, reassembled them, shuffled them enthusiastically and fanned them out again on the table, backs up.

"Now choose a card, any card, that's it. Look at it. Right."

I whipped up the cards and fanned them out again. "Put it back into the deck."

When she had done all this I gave the deck many good shuffles, then fanned them out-this time face up. "Will you kindly point to your chosen card."

She looked at the cards closely-then carefully looked again and shook her head.

"It's not there."

"Are you positive?"

"Of course I am."

"Was your chosen card the King of Spades?"

"It was! How did you know that?"

"Because I see that card in the pocket of your skirt."

I reached in and took out the card and handed it to her.

She gasped. "That's my card. You really do magic-and have been hiding it from me all these years. And I thought you only cheated at cards."

I bowed and accepted her praise. "Magic had to look like magic. But it is hard work. First there is misdirection, where I see to it that you look only where I want you to. Then there is forcing-"

"You didn't force me to do anything."

"A technical term, meaning I did this trick in such a way that you took the card I wanted you to take. Then I watched as you put the card back into the deck. And marked the card by inserting my little finger next to it. Which you could not see because I made sure that I only showed you the back of the deck. Then I removed and palmed the card before I shuffled the deck. It was in my hand when I placed it into your pocket."

"I never saw it."

"You were never intended to. Then I removed the card from your pocket. Magic! End of the trick. But to be a stage magician I will have to be able to do a lot more than manipulate cards. I must now abandon my amateur status to become an even keener professional."

"A sound idea," she said. "You have certainly worked magic in the past, cleaning out banks." Then she smiled and clapped her hands with happiness. "And I shall be your beautiful assistant! All women dream of a career on the stage. Think of all the lovely costumes I will wear."

"I am thinking-and think very much of the idea. And I also think that it is time to get some more information on my new vocation."

Unhappily, it was not easy to come by. Magicians, down through the centuries, have been a close-mouthed lot. Passing their secrets on all too reluctantly, keeping the details of their trade very close to the chest. Despite the billions of entries in the databases I searched, I could find very little real information. Just card tricks and vanishing rabbits and things like that. I had the strong feeling that Bolshoi's Big Top would sneer at my act if that was all that I could do.

"Nothing," I growled as I shouted at the computer to turn itself off. "Maybe it is the acrobat-way after all."

"Do not despair," Angelina said, pouring me a glass of alcoholic despair-destroyer. I sipped at it and smiled thanks in her direction.

"You are right. Worry not and put the old brain cells to work. If magic were that easy we would be up to our thighs in magicians. We are not. But there are magical acts on the gogglebox all of the time. I've watched them in awe. How do they do it? Or rather how did they ever learn to do it? Not from books and computer programs-I've checked that out. But they do learn. How?"

"You mean who, don't you?"

"I do, I do!" I chortled as I sprang to my feet, finger raised in the air. "They learn from each other. Every sorcerer must have an apprentice. That is what I must be."

I turned to the familiar suitcase form of the Nanotechtric68X. "Awake, good computer," I commanded.

"But speak and I obey, oh master. "

Angelina raised one lovely eyebrow. "You have been teaching this thing to be your electronic slave?"

"Why not? Anything to keep the old ego happy." I turned back to the suitcase. "Magicians, good magicians-galaxy famous magicians. Track them down and prepare a list of them."

The printout was humming away even before I had finished speaking. There were only six entries on the page. A very exclusive fraternity indeed. I spent a good hour preparing an irresistible sales pitch, listing my varied and convincing talents, and applying for the position of apprentice sorcerer. With the added inducement that I was prepared to pay vast sums for my education. When my missives were dispatched into the electronic void I finished my drink and cocked my head as I heard a distant digestive rumble.

"Lunchtime," I rumbled in echo. "Let us dine at some exclusive and hideously expensive restaurant while my applications are being processed. And return to find out who my mentor will be."

Dine we did, well and expensively, and were just signaling for the bill when Sybill appeared. Yes, it had to be Sybill because Sybil, her other self, had returned with James to Usti nad Labam to work with him on their mutual computer project.

"Food or drink?" I said.

"Thank you, no. Well, maybe a small bite and a drop of wine. Thank you." She sipped and smiled. "I just grabbed a few minutes to talk while Bolivar attends a board meeting for our newly established private bank, Credit Dew. There are some investments we have been toying with."

"Investments? Perhaps I should consider something like that myself, with all the credits from Chaise just lying around."

"That's just what Bolivar said. And he wasn't too sure that your secret secret account was all that secret. So he transferred all your money here so he could watch it closely."

"How kind!"

"He also used it to finance the establishment of Credit Dew."

A little too kind, I thought. But kept the thought to myself. I am sure that he knew what he was doing.

"A little more wine." I said and tipped a bit into each of our glasses. We all drank.

"But you didn't come here to talk about banking," Angelina said.

"You're right. I have been thinking about Jim's new career while Bolivar is busy making money. Through my Special Corps contacts I did a little more investigating of the circus. I did a little checking on the acts myself and have found one that was of great interest. Gar Goyle's Freak Show. Intergalactic monstrosities."

"Doesn't sound too attractive," Angelina said. "I thought that sort of thing was illegal."

"It is-that is why I made some even more discreet inquiries through the Special Corps. It is all very legal—and interesting …"

This caught my attention. "Interesting—in what way?"

"I'm afraid you will have to find out for yourself. This is all I could uncover now. Plus the fact that Special Corps thinks that Gar Goyle can be trusted. If I find out anything else I'll let you know. How are your magical studies going?"

"We will know as soon as I get answers to some inquiries. I feel that I am on the cusp of an entirely new career."

"Best of luck." She looked at her watch, touched the napkin to her lips. "Bolivar's meeting should be done by now. I must fly. Bye."

Then she was away in a burst of enthusiasm. We finished our luncheon and returned, sated, to our rooms. Eager to find the response to my queries.

Which was exactly nothing. Nor was it any better a day later. My letters had vanished into the interstellar void. Like magic. Then the message-received bell pinged and, with sudden joy, I lifted the sheet from the tray.

Glanced at it and cursed fluently in Esperanto as I crumpled it and hurled it to the floor.

"Fiegulo! Bastardego! Ekskrementkapo! "

"I gather you are not too happy at the result?" Angelina said.

When I answered her I had to speak through grated teeth. "I have never been so insulted in my life. Not only rejected but sneered at, put down, derided, despised…"

"And all of the rest. Well the study of magic is obviously a very secretive thing. So what do you do next?"

"Find another answer," I said as I paced gloomily about the room. Which is not an easy thing to do. Nor is pacing angrily. Nor raging fatuously. "Not a single famous magician will take me."

"Then why don't you try the not-so-famous?"

"Not so good. I need only the best."

"Maybe the best are dead. If they were really good they should be able to speak to you from beyond the grave."

"No jokes! This is a serious matter…"

Then I stopped in my tracks as the idea popped to the surface. "Not alive, not dead … but … retired!"

My faithful suitcase had but to be commanded. There were only two names on the new list, the first one lightyears away right across the galaxy. But then, with quavering finger, I pointed out the address of the second name.

"Retired and living in Happy Hectares, a retirement home for actors. Sounds very nice."

"But do you see where Happy Hectares is?"

"Of course. Here on Elysium. And why not? This is a pleasure planet serving a number of star systems. Shall I call Rent-a-Rover and get us some transportation?"

"By all means. I look forward intently to meeting the Great Grissini. While you do that I'll get a printout of his career highlights."

Some hours later we rolled through the entrance of Happy Hectares, under a curling archway that had HOME OF THE STARS spelled out in twinkling lightbulbs. We passed resplendent gardens with elderly types strolling the paths, or sitting in shaded pergolas. Robot gardeners worked away in the flower beds; butlerbots circulated with trays of tea and little sandwiches and cakes. And some with chilled glasses. Angelina saw the direction of my gaze and shook her head.

"Too early for you to get tucked into the sauce, Jim. First we find your magician."

The elegantly gowned and carefully coiffed lady at the front desk was kindness itself.

"The Great Grissini, of course. Let me find out where he is right now." She punched the keys; and I tried to remember where I had seen her before. Angelina was far quicker off the mark then I was.

"Why you must be Hedy Lastarr. I so enjoyed seeing you in Planet of Passion."

"How nice of you to remember," Hedy cooed, patting the curls of her stylishly gray hair. "Not many people remember the old threedees these days."

"They are missing a lot. Far better than the current rubbish."

"I could not agree more. Ahh, here we are. The Great Grissini is in the west garden just follow the attendant. And don't forget our tax-free status."

She pointed delicately at a collection box on the desk before her that was labeled with HELPING THE NEEDY IS A REAL GOOD DEEDY in ornate curled lettering. I stuffed credits through the slot in the top until she beamed with pleasure. We followed the blue-painted robot out into the gardens.

"He is the one you seek," the robot said, pointing to a man under an umbrella, then rolling away.

The Great Grissini was not looking that great today. He was very thin, pale and bony, with his toupee not too well secured. He looked up suspiciously when we approached. I remembered the reaction-and lack of reaction-of the magicians I had tried to contact. I did not want to repeat my mistakes. They were surely a prickly lot. A strong sales pitch was very much in order now. I had boned up on his biography while Angelina drove, so I could be a little more subtle in my approach.

"Might I ask if I am speaking to Pasquale Grissini—known throughout the galaxy as the Great Grissini?"

The grunted response could have meant anything. I tried to smile warmly while I introduced myself and Angelina. He broke in before I was done.

"You want a drink?"

"Why, yes, of course. Kind of you to ask."

His next grunt was a more enthusiastic one as he pressed a button on the table before him. When he took his thumb away I saw that the button was inscribed with a symbolic cocktail glass. Things were indeed looking up.

A boxish wheeled robot rolled over. It had arms at the front end beside a male mannequin's head. "May I be of service?" the thing said. "The special today is Zubenelgenubian Iced Tea. One hundred and fifty proof."

"I'll take a double," Grissini said, leaning forward; the first sign of animation I had seen. We ordered the specials as well. Something hummed in the thing's interior. Then a hatch sprang open and the iced drinks were there on a tray. Behind a transparent door.

"That will be twenty-two credits," the robot said. "Cash only." Then it opened its mouth wide, revealing a money slot where its tongue should be. I looked out of the corners of my eyes at Grissini who was as a marble statue. My round, obviously. I stuffed in coins until a horn sounded a quick fanfare and the door slipped out of sight. Mechanical arms seized the tray and deposited it on the table before us.

"And some deep-fried seaweed pretzels," our new friend said, almost smiling. I paid with pleasure. Then, while he was getting tucked into his toxic tea, I hit the high points of his career.

"Your vanishing Boy Sprout was the hit of the circuits. Where a real live Boy Sprout climbed a rope right before the audience-then vanished in an instant.

Did you know that there have been two books written about that trick? Each one said that they knew how it had been done."

"Did they?"

"No. As far as the galaxy goes your mystery is still a mystery. Living on in the memories of your grateful audiences."

"They loved it," he said, nodding but not letting this interfere with some serious sipping.

"What the public admired most, I do believe, was your disappearing porcuswine. Where right before their eyes this large and ferocious creature simply vanished. The magic-loving theatergoers of the galaxy owe a lot to the Great Grissini and will never forget him."

"Porcuswine-crap," he snapped, stirred to activity at last. "If they remembered me I would not be retired and sitting here thirstily in the sun and living off my memories." His eyes went damp for a moment. Then he drained his glass, put aside the moment of self-pity, and held the glass out for a refill. He sat silent until it arrived. A long swig put him back in control.

"Audiences don't give a damn when you start to get old nor do producers. Plenty of new acts coming down the pike. So I got out before they threw me out. Now I'm stuck here in this pay-as-you-die dump. Room and board as promised when I signed up. My fault was that I didn't read the fine print, too smart by far in those days. Let my wiseguy lawyer take care of it for me. Didn't know until it was too late that he was senile. Signed me up here without looking at the contract. Didn't even notice that just the basics are provided. Enough food, but not too good. A bed, but not too soft. Anything else you gotta pay. Which they forgot to tell him when he signed me up here." He slurped up the last of the drink and I enthusiastically thumbed the button on the table again. There was nothing forced about my smile now. Bad news for him was good news for me.

"Make note of the date." I told him. "For this is the first day of the rest of your comfortable life. Think of the best meals you can imagine-and they shall be yours. Think of a liquor cabinet that never runs dry."

"Why should I think about them?" he said, suddenly suspicious. But not too suspicious to stop himself from grabbing the drink when it arrived.

"Because they could be yours. Plus some better geriatric treatment-get rid of some of those wrinkles. All this will come true-plus the added benefit of your magical miracles once more gracing the platforms of the stars."

"No way. Have the shakes too much to work them."

"You won't have to do a thing on stage. But you will know that your new assistant will continue in your noble tradition."

"Don't have an assistant. Always worked alone."

"You have one now. Me. Interested?"

"No. My magic is my magic. Don't share it."

"Not sharing. Continuing." I pushed the brimming glass closer to him. "I shall study what you teach, and reveal nothing I learn to anyone."

"Not even to me," Angelina said. "Except of course those illusions where I assist you. It will all be so wonderful."

She patted the back of his hand and was rewarded with a wintry smile.

"Would be nice to work again. Keep my hand in, you know." Then he frowned.

"No way. When I go-the secrets go. You can't bribe me."

"I'm not trying to bribe you!" I said loudly to cover the fact that I was trying to bribe him. "Your magic should not die with you. Thousands yet unborn are already lusting after you." That didn't sound right. The booze must have been getting to me as well; these drinks were lethal.

"What my husband is trying to say," Angelina said, the only one still sober 39 apparently. "Is that he admires your work so much that he wants your retirement years to be happy ones. If you share your magic with him they certainly will be. A career for him and years of happiness for you."

"Well-" he said, and I knew that we had won the day.

We rented a house nearby. Every morning the limo would pick him up and bring him over. He was looking rehabilitated already. The better diet, a certain amount of booze, plus the geriatric jabs worked their wonders. Also, I think he grew in stature as he worked his miracles for us. While we waited for some stunning-and expensive-apparatus we had ordered, he drilled me in the basic skills.

"Misdirection, misdirection and misdirection. Those are the three words you must never forget. Remember-the audience wants to be fooled. While they look here you are working there."

Here was his raised left hand which plucked a palmed coin out of thin air. There was a top hat, empty a moment before, now containing a white rodent, which he pulled out by its long ears. I had been completely fooled. I had never seen him take the creature from the bag hanging behind the table. Then, concealed by his body, slip the creature into the hat.

It seemed so obvious once he showed me how it was done. He saw my expression and smiled.

"Of course it is a letdown when a piece of magic is exposed. So obvious, you think, why didn't I see it? Which is why magicians never reveal their secrets. Discovering the truth behind the manipulation is like the loss of innocence. You must believe in magic-even though you know better-and convey this belief to your audience. Do this and they will love you for it. In a world without magic you must make magic. The audiences will beat a happy path to your door. Now try it like I showed you. Smoothly. That is better-but not by much."

Angelina knocked on the door and I unlocked it.

"A delivery. A large crate from Prosper Electronics."

"Ha!" Gressane said, elated, rubbing his hands together with happiness. "Very soon now we will recreate the supreme mystery of the Vanishing Porcuswine!"