The Manual of Darkness (19 page)

Statistically, a high percentage of those the magician chose wore glasses; this for the simple reason that the audience loved it when he said: ‘Here, you’ll need your glasses, we don’t want you tripping on the stairs on your way down from the stage.’ He probably
chose people whose lenses were not too thick; it’s impossible to steal glasses from someone as blind as a bat without their noticing. Being slightly short-sighted gave Víctor a distinct advantage. He would need a watch with a metal clasp – much easier to open than the buckle on a leather watchstrap and consequently more tempting to a magician. There were other useful ruses: he could show up with a girl and seem completely absorbed in her, he could say he was celebrating something. Often, the magician would ask for a round of applause as he called someone up on stage, telling the audience it was their birthday, or that the person was getting married the following day. And when he teased his victims, there would invariably be a few salacious comments about the girlfriend still sitting in the audience. Although Víctor never knew for certain, he suspected that in picking this type of person, Lápidus was making sure the victim was aware that his partner was watching and he would consequently be more distracted. One last, minor detail: it was best for the victim to be seated at a table near the centre aisle so that he did not disturb too many other people when he got up.

On the fourth Monday, Víctor prepared carefully. He invited the girl he had picked up at La Llave the night before to come with him and made sure that the magician saw them gazing into each other’s eyes. He spent the break passionately kissing his date, and pretending not to notice Lápidus, who, as always, was watching the audience. In addition he had managed to get a good table, and as he ordered a bottle of champagne, he let it slip that it was his birthday.

During the first performance, six members of the audience were invited on to the stage and Víctor watched them enviously, but he remained calm. He was prepared to do this every Monday for as long as it took. In fact, the longer it took Lápidus to call him up onstage, the better prepared he would be. During the second half, the magician came to the front and said:

‘Now, I’ll need someone from the audience to assist me.’ A number of people immediately got to their feet. Víctor gave a start but decided to hold back for a few seconds so as not to draw attention to himself. Lápidus brought his hand up to shield his eyes and pretended to survey the room: ‘No offence, madame, but
it has to be someone young and strong … How about you, sir?’ Víctor shrugged slightly but did not get up. ‘Yes, you there. Don’t go all shy on me …’

As Víctor stepped on to the stage, the magician spoke to him in the disparaging way the audience found so funny.

‘Wow … I was hoping for someone young, not a baby. Are you sure you’re eighteen, sonny? I don’t want your
mamá
giving me grief!’

‘Absolutely. In fact, I just turned eighteen today.’

‘What a coincidence. I think that deserves a round of applause.’

The audience obeyed and Víctor stood, motionless, on the stage. Lápidus came over to him, pressed a hand gently to his side and suggested he take a bow.

‘Say thank you to the audience! Young people these days … they have no manners.’

As he bowed slightly, the punchline to Lápidus’s joke, Víctor took it for granted that his wallet had now been purloined. Not because he felt the flutter of Lápidus’s fingers, but because he had put it in his right-hand jacket pocket so it could be taken and he now understood how the magician worked. Lápidus continued to use Víctor as the butt of his jokes, and told the audience that the young man was about to witness the classic Chinese Linking Rings. He used every cliché in the book: ‘This is the real deal,’ he said, sliding one ring over the other and announcing that they would be joined together ‘like two hearts in love’; he even found a way to use the execrable phrase ‘Now you see it, now you don’t …’ From time to time, he handed Víctor a ring so he could check it and tell the audience that it was completely solid. The more Víctor listened, the more he loathed the man. But he had to acknowledge the skill and ease with which Lápidus performed a dazzlingly fast, complex series of manoeuvres, shaping the rings into the symbol of the Olympic games, then uncoupling them again. Víctor, too, knew how to perform the Chinese Rings illusion, though he was much slower. Galván had shown it to him as an old-fashioned curiosity, unworthy of being performed onstage nowadays. Víctor tried to keep a surprised look on his face while focusing all his attention on every movement Lápidus made as he lifted another object from him. After all, that was why he was wearing them.
Though he noted how Lápidus took his watch, he had to admit that an innocent observer would never have noticed. He could not help but smile when he saw Lápidus’s fingers take his tie-pin. When he had put it on, he knew that it was distinctly lacking in taste, but he had also been aware that the magician would be unable to resist the temptation.

When the time came for him to leave the stage, he walked quickly towards the steps and only began to gloat when the magician called out:

‘Hey! Our little man seems to be in a hurry. Hardly surprising, since he’s not wearing a watch …’

With the same theatricality, Víctor stopped, looked at his bare wrist, slapped himself on the forehead and walked back to Lápidus, who gave him the watch. As he did, he added:

‘Don’t forget to bow before you go. And enjoy your birthday, the champagne is on me …’

Once again, Víctor did what was expected of him. He even applauded before he turned to leave the stage a second time and did his best to look surprised when he heard the magician’s voice.

‘… because if you had to pay for it yourself, you’d be hard pressed.’

He didn’t need to turn round to know that Lápidus was holding up his wallet. The audience were splitting their sides as though they’d never seen this trick done before. Unless the magician’s nimble fingers had been skilful enough to escape Víctor’s keen attention, only the tie-pin and his glasses remained.

‘Thanks, kid,’ Lápidus said. ‘You’ve been a great assistant. I hope you didn’t mind me pulling your leg. As a token of goodwill, I’d like to give you this beautiful tie-pin. Yes, I know it’s yours, but I could have kept it for myself.’

The moment had come to act. Víctor found he had to raise his voice to drown out the audience’s laughter.

‘Thank you very much, Mr Lápidus. In any case,’ he turned brazenly to the audience, suddenly taking over the role of ring-master, ‘it wouldn’t be much use to you, since you always wear a bow tie.’ He held up the tie-pin for the audience to see, glanced at the magician, then added, ‘Because you do always wear a bow tie, don’t you?’

Taken by surprise, Lápidus brought his hand to his collar. For several seconds, the audience fell silent, only to burst out laughing again as Víctor put his hand in his trouser pocket and drew out Lápidus’s bow tie. He dangled it in the air as though he were holding a snake. The magician quickly attempted to improvise.

‘Are you sure it’s mine? Take a good look, you might be mistaken. Though you might need these,’ he said, proffering Víctor’s glasses.

‘No need, I’ll use yours,’ Víctor countered, putting his hand in his breast pocket and taking out the magician’s wire-framed glasses. ‘I think they’re about the same strength.’

The audience was in stitches now. Lápidus glared at him and Víctor knew he would have strangled him with his bare hands had he been able. But the man was a good sport. Lápidus raised his arms and took a step towards Víctor as though to hug him. Víctor went with the flow and as they hugged the magician whispered:

‘What’s your name, you little son of a bitch?’

Víctor hesitated for a moment before answering.

‘Don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill you,’ Lápidus growled, still clapping Víctor on the back. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Víctor,’ he said finally.

‘Víctor what?’

‘Víctor Losa.’

Lápidus took a step back and, gesturing to Víctor, asked for a round of applause.

‘Víctor Losa!’ he announced. ‘Víctor Losa, ladies and gentlemen!’ he said again, as though announcing the name of the winning horse at a racetrack. ‘A new star in the Lápidus constellation. A brilliant pupil. We’ll be hearing a lot more from him in future. Don’t forget, you saw him here first. Víctor Losa!’

It was a brilliant ad lib, and the audience seemed completely convinced that Víctor had been following Lápidus’s orders from the outset. Víctor still had a surprise up his sleeve, but he decided to play along.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ he said, bowing. ‘But, to be honest, the pupil can’t take all the credit. Most of it goes to the master’s magic wand!’ He rummaged in the sleeve of his jacket, pulled out Lápidus’s wand and handed it back to him. As he came over to
take it, the magician blocked Víctor’s path to the short flight of steps leading down to the stalls. He announced Víctor’s name again, one hand firmly clutching the boy’s shoulder, forcing him to leave the stage via the wings. Víctor had no choice. As he stumbled through the side curtain, two hefty thugs appeared and invited him to stay exactly where he was. His legs suddenly turned to jelly and his pounding heart leapt into his mouth like a hunted frog. He had to sit down on the ground. Not that he was afraid of what might happen next. After all, even if they did give him a good kicking, it was no more than he deserved. The wooziness he was experiencing was the tension draining away, a floating sensation similar to what he had felt on his first night at La Llave, exacerbated by the torrent of adrenalin surging through him. From his position on the floor, he listened as the magician brought his act to a close.

The audience was still applauding when Lápidus planted himself in front of Víctor. He lit a cigarette and, without saying a word, gestured for him to get to his feet. Then, he had only to nod and the two thugs came over and grabbed Víctor, twisting one arm behind his back and pushing him down the corridor. When they reached the emergency exit, they stopped and waited for Lápidus, who was following slowly behind.

‘So, you are Víctor Losa, are you?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘Give my best to Galván when you see him.’

‘How do you know that …?’

The sentence was never finished. Víctor could not protect his stomach since the thugs were holding him by both elbows and, though he tensed his abdominals, Lápidus’s punch still left him gasping for breath.

‘That’s how Houdini was killed,’ the magician said as he lashed out again. ‘Tell the maestro, so he knows I haven’t forgotten his history lessons.’ Then he grabbed Víctor’s right thumb. ‘And this is more or less how Peter Grouse invented the false thumb.’ He twisted the digit, bending it back until he heard a crack. Then the door was opened and the thugs tossed Víctor out into the street. Sprawled on the ground and doubled up in pain, Víctor thought the beating might not be over when he saw a shadow suddenly
loom over him. As someone once again grabbed his throbbing thumb, he noticed the unmistakable smell of Galván’s tobacco.

Without saying a word, the maestro jerked the thumb back into its normal position with another loud crack. Víctor covered it with his other hand and squeezed, but he noticed that the pain had subsided. Still gasping for breath, he hauled himself on to his knees. Just then Galván slapped him across the back of the head.

‘Hey!’ Víctor turned to stare at Galván, ‘Why di—?’

‘Because you deserve it. Because I’ve told you a thousand times not to improvise. Because you can’t pull that sort of stunt unless you’ve planned your escape.’ Galván’s voice sounded more serious, more professorial, than ever, but he took a step forward, bent down and hugged his pupil hard. ‘And because you’re a genius, you little bastard.’

Víctor said nothing. Suddenly all the pent-up tension, all the aggression of his encounter with Lápidus, drained away, leaving him trembling. He did not answer. Or could not.

Galván broke the hug, pressed a finger under Víctor’s chin and helped him to his feet.

‘Did they do much damage?’

‘Nothing that won’t heal.’

Víctor suspected it would be some time before the pain and the swelling disappeared, but he did not care. He could do magic with one hand. With no hands. It was all in his mind. At that precise moment, he felt he could perform miracles.

Galván silently held his gaze.

‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘I’m always here, Víctor, you should know that by now.’

‘Lápidus said to give you his regards. Something about Houdini and Peter Grouse.’

‘I don’t care about Lápidus. It’s time to go. I think your girlfriend is waiting for you in the entrance.’

Víctor had not given the girl a single thought since Lápidus had called him up onstage.

‘Wait. There’s a lot of things I need to ask you.’

‘This is not the time, Víctor, we’ll talk about it in class.’

‘At least tell me about Lápidus.’

‘What about him?’

‘You taught him?’

‘Fifteen years ago.’

‘What happened?’

‘It didn’t work out.’

‘I’ve seen him do astonishing things.’

‘He has talent, I’ll grant you. He’s a great typist. But he wouldn’t recognise a piano if he saw one.’

‘You sent him away.’

‘Not exactly, I told him to come back when he was prepared to cross the line of fire.’