The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus ssr-11

by Harry Harrison

  “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!”

  Chapter 4

  One of the reasons we had rented this particular house was the fact that it had an immense living room. When all of the furniture had been removed and stuffed into the garage, the room became our stage. Blue curtains divided it, curtains that opened and closed at the touch of a button. Angelina and I, sitting in chairs that faced the curtain, became a happy audience. Watching while Grissini instructed the workmen as they assembled the apparatus for the Vanishing Porcuswine.

  It looked simple enough. A two-sided cage made of metal slats was erected on the stage before a rear curtain, making a triangle with the curtain as one side, the slats the other two sides.

  Only when the workmen had been well tipped and dismissed did Grissini turn his attention to us.

  “The illusion is now ready,” he said. “All we need now is a porcuswine.”

  “That will take a bit of doing,” I said. “Couldn’t we use another creature to demonstrate?”

  He thought for a moment, then pointed at Angelina. “The effect is much greater, of course, with a large and threatening animal. However, for demonstration purposes, she will do. Come with me, my dear.”

  Grissini led her behind the rear curtains, then out through the gap in the curtains and into the cage.

  “You must stand very still,” he said. “Whatever happens you must not move. Do you understand?”

  “Absolutely. Like a rock.”

  “Good. When this illusion is done correctly the porcuswine is chained and immobile. Now-we begin!”

  He came back through the curtain just as he had gone in. Angelina stood demurely, hands folded before her as the Great Grissini faced his audience of one and bowed. I clapped enthusiastically.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his amplified voice filling the room. “You have seen the handlers lead this dangerous porcuswine—lovely lady, sorry-into this cage. A cage made of solid steel, solid and unbreakable.” He tapped his metaltipped wand against the slats, which gave a solid and satisfactory steel ring. “You have examined the solid locks and chains which secure this great creature in place.” The shackles were in place. The porcuswine, unhappily, not. “There is no possible way to escape from this cage-except by magic. Magic that will astound and amaze you. Behold!”

  Invisible drums rolled thunderously and then, in a final crashing crescendo, they stopped. In that very same instant a black curtain dropped between cage and audience. It remained for a single second before Grissini seized it and whisked it away.

  “Angelina!” I cried aloud.

  For she was gone, the cage was empty. I sprang to my feet and started to lunge forward.

  “Patience!” Grissini ordered in a voice of thunder and I stopped, sat down, only an illus
ion. Then why was I soaked with sweat? It took a great effort of will to sit still while the magician went behind the rear curtain once again.

  And reappeared with Angelina on his arm. I could no longer remain in my chair. I rushed forward to embrace her.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Everything just went black until Grissini appeared and led me back here. What did you see?”

  “Nothing. That is, the curtain fell for an instant-and you were gone.”

  “I don’t think I was. Other than being in the dark I don’t believe that I moved.” She turned to face the smiling magician. “What happened?”

  He bowed and swept his hand gracefully in the air. “I will be most happy to tell you, since you will be part of this illusion in the future.” His smile broadened as he stabbed his finger theatrically into the air.

  “It is all done with mirrors.”

  I am afraid that all we could do was gape blankly and adenoidally at this news. Yet it was true. He had us stand to the side, squarely facing the metal slats of one side of the cage.

  “Now all will be revealed. Without the obscuring black curtain. Watch closely now-abracadabra!”

  Instantly and silently the space between the slats became a mirror. We were looking at our shocked expressions. He laughed with pleasure.

  “So simple-yet so convincing. The lengths of mirror are concealed behind the slats. Then they slide into place when I actuate them with this concealed radio control. To the audience the cage appears to be empty since they are looking at the blue side curtains reflected in the mirrors. While they gape the porcuswine is led away, the illusion is reversed, the mirrors vanish-and the cage is really empty this time. Simple and highly effective, is it not?”

  “A showstopper and a winner,” I said.

  “I agree completely,” Chaise said, strolling in through what had been a locked door. “You have been spending a lot of my money, Jim, and I had a natural desire to see where it was going. I have been reading your daily reports, as well as those of my agents of course. You are sure that this circus is connected with the thefts?”

  “Computer programs don’t lie. Every theft to every bank was logged. I ran search programs to examine the relevant dates in incredibly minute detail. News files were combed, spaceport and airport departures gone through meticulously. Some similar events did occur, but these were merely coincidences considering the amount of data that was searched and compared. Out of all this there was only a single overlap with the robberies. There were different circuses in every city when the thefts occurred. But the strongman, Puissanto, was in every one of them at the time.”

  Meanwhile the Great Grissini was staring at us, baffled by what was going on.

  “Time for a break,” Angelina said, taking him gently by the arm and leading him away. “With perhaps a small drink for your dry throat.

  “The logic is sound,” Chaise said, sitting down in a chair and pressing smooth the hairs of his fur morning suit. “However you have been paid a great deal of money and I would like to see some positive results. In fact, to encourage you in your investigation I am suspending your daily payments until you actually make contact with this suspect strongman.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Of course I can. Clause six, paragraph eighteen of our contract.”

  “I don’t remember any clause that said that.” My vision was blurred by the image of winged credits flying out into the night.

  “You would if you had looked more closely at what you signed. You have a copy of the contract with you?”

  “No. It’s in the bank.”

  “A wise precaution. It just so happens that I have a copy with me, should you wish to peruse it.”

  He took a copy from his fur purse. No crisp vellum this time, but a printed copy. I read through it quickly, then raised it victoriously over my head. “I was right! There are only seventeen paragraphs in clause six.”

  “Indeed.” Chaise did not seem disturbed by this announcement. He leaned over and pointed to end of the seventeenth paragraph. “And what do you think this is?”

  I leaned close and blinked rapidly. “It looks like a blob of ink.”

  “Some might differ.” He took a brass tube out of the bag and passed it over to me. “Look at it through this optic magnifier.”

  I did. “It still looks like a blob of ink.”

  “That is because the instrument is set on four times magnification. Try setting it to four hundred.”

  I found the setting wheel and gave it a twist. Looked again. The blob of ink resolved into a chunk of copy; paragraph eighteen. I was hooked.

  “Do not despair,” he advised. “Just work faster. This golden goal should act as some inspiration.”

  “It does! I’m on my way. Soon. My agent has been dealing with Bolshoi’s Big Top and contracts have been drawn up. I will join them shortly, in time for opening night in Fetorr.”

  I spoke with firm resolution. A sales pitch to hide the fact that I had not mastered all of the illusions that I would need. Plus the fact that there wasn’t a single porcuswine farm here on this pleasure planet. Still the fact remained that up until this moment Chaise had been a good and munificent employer and I wanted to keep him happy. Even if it meant being a little parsimonious with the truth. If he could renege on making the agreed daily payments, it seemed perfectly fair for me to massage the facts a little as well.

  “See that you do arrive in time for opening night at the circus. For our mutual benefit,” he said. “See you on opening night.” He exited as swiftly as he had arrived and I went looking for Angelina, looking forward to one of those drinks she had talked about. She and Grissini were sitting and chatting in the atrium garden. I joined them and looked with more need than pleasure at a chilled and brimming glass that awaited me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and knocked it back in a single gulp.

  Angelina’s lovely eyebrows rose in a singularly questioning manner.

  “Well some of us seem to have developed a sudden thirst. Trouble with Chaise?”

  “Not exactly trouble. But not exactly pleasure as well. You know those little payments he has been making daily? It seems, according our contract, which contains a paragraph that looks like a blob of ink only isn’t, that he can suspend them whenever he wishes. He now wishes. He will start them again when we join the circus.”

  “Blob of ink?” Angelina asked, puzzled.

  “Only to the naked eye. Under magnification it becomes the dreaded paragraph.”

  “Then what we have been discussing before you came is most relevant. The Great Grissini and I have been talking about deadlines. Made more imperative now by the appearance of our employer.”

  “Everything cannot be done in time,” Grissini said. Gulped from his glass and sighed. “You catch on quickly, but not quickly enough.” I lowered my eyes and tried to look humble before my maestro. “I will see that you have enough illusions and tricks for a performance. But you will not be able to do the Vanishing Boy Sprout.. .”

  “But I must! Your most famous turn. Why can’t we do it?”

  “Mainly because we don’t have an eight-year-old Boy Sprout,” Angelina said with chill logic. “I have looked into it and little boys are hard to find. Also against the law.”

  “My great blessing was that the Grissinis are a large family,” he said. “I could always find a small cousin or nephew to aid me. Alas, all grown now and scattered to the far corners of the galaxy.”

  “Couldn’t it be done without a boy?” I asked peevishly.

  “Never! That is the strength of the illusion. The boy has been planted in the audience so he can volunteer. I always save this illusion for the last, the closing and most appreciated act of magic. To begin I shake out my great cape. A pigeon flies up, two rabbits hop away. The audience claps and applauds. I then raise my hands and there is a loud fanfare and a roll of thunder. The audience is instantly silent. I speak to them. This is the moment you have all
been waiting for. Is there a Boy Sprout in the audience? In uniform? There are always a few. Show yourselves I say, and they spring to their feet. Come forward I cry. The first one here will join me in this next act of magic-and will receive twenty credits as well. They cry out and struggle to reach the stage first. But my assistant is seated in the first row, close to the aisle. He springs to his feet, pushing himself forwards. In doing so he brushes against people in his hurry, even stepping on their toes. Assuring all present that he really is a corporeal little boy. He assists me by bringing over a basket, sets it down before me. I take a length of rope and throw it into the basket. The boy waits patiently as the most eerie music begins. I make magical passes over the basket and the end of the rope appears, unsupported, and rises writhing into the air. The boy is just as impressed by this as is the audience. I wave him over and he passes behind me to approach the basket. The music grows louder still. Take the rope I command him and he draws back, afraid. I make a magical pass and his eyes roll back, his body stiffens. His will is now under my control. Now he does exactly what I order him to do. I wave my hand and he seizes the rope, then begins to climb it.”

  I nodded, enthralled by the illusion, actually seeing the boy climb, as impressed as the unseen audiences.

  “And then-” he said dramatically, “-the boy reaches the top of the rope. The music ends with a mighty crash of the brasses, and I wave my hand. As I do this the boy is gone, vanished, and the rope falls limply back into the basket. I turn the basket over and the rope falls out. Nothing more. I bow and the curtain closes.”

  “Marvelous,” Angelina said.

  “How does it work?” I asked.

  “Since you won’t be doing it, you don’t have to know.”

  And no amount of cajoling would get him to change his mind.

  “I will not tell you. However I will reveal to you the il-. lusion of the levitating lady. The apparatus arrived this morning and I will go to install it.” He rose, then turned to Angelina. “Did you purchase the black dress I mentioned?”