Free Saving Houdini by Michael Redhill

for sure if you don’t stick around?”
    Walt was looking highly unconvinced. “I’ll go with you. Just to see what happens. If you’re taking me for a ride, though … you’re gonna regret it. I know fisticuffs!”

9
    A pair of small dogs had taken the stage with their trainer, and they were jumping over chairs and standing on their hind legs. The boys went into the clamorous hallways behind. There was a warren of rooms scattered along its length, and Walter hesitated, flattening himself against a wall before a corner.
    “Do you really know where to look for him?”
    “He’s gotta be back here somewhere.” Dash retreated a couple of steps to stand beside him against the wall. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, you know.”
    “I’m not afraid! Do I look afraid?”
    “So come on, then—”
    “I’m also no sucker,” he said.
    “There’s no way I can outrun you, and I couldn’t take a single punch from you, so why would I mess around? Look, he probably won’t be here for long! And I can go on my own, but …” He shrugged. “It’s, like, your loss, dude.”
    “What’s like my loss? Dude?”
    “Never mind.” Dash snuck around the corner into the dark hall alone, but he knew—he had an instinct—that Walter Gibson would be right behind him. He took a few more steps before looking over his shoulder.
    “Don’t want anyone to take advantage of ya,” Walt said. “You’re not from around here.”
    They walked side by side, each checking the shadows for surprises, and soon they emerged from the other end of the hall into another dimly lit corridor. There were people here; a couple of the doors were lit from behind. A woman in a ballerina costume stood in front of them, smoking a cigarette, and behind her, two acrobats were stretching their muscles.
    Dash whispered, “Look like you know what you’re doing,” and he stepped into the light. The dancer started. “Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” he said to her. “We’re just going to our dressing room.”
    “You boys frightened me,” she said, with one hand against her chest. “What time are you on?”
    “Soon,” said Dash, walking past her.
    “What’s your act?” rasped a wiry-looking acrobat.
    “Time travel,” Walt said.
    Dash began trying doors. In the distance, they heard the laughter of the crowd and then there was a drumroll.
    “If I was him, I’d have made tracks by now, before the tomatoes ripen.”
    “You better hope he’s still here,” Dash said, “or you might be bringing me boiled eggs for the rest of your life …” He was about to knock on a door, when they heard a familiar-sounding voice from across the hall.
    “Forget it! No, you are not getting an acorn right now, no. You’ve made a fool of me for the last time!”
    Dash went to that door and knocked.
    “What is it
now
?” came the voice, deeply aggrieved.
    “Is that Mr. Blumenthal?”
    “No one here but us
sqvirrels.
”
    “Please, sir,” Dash said through the door, “may I speak to you, please? It’s very important.”
    “Go away.”
    Walt pushed Dash aside. He put his mouth to the door. “Your rope trick was really … very splendid,” he said. “Sir.”
    “Oh, well, humble thanks, then. Now go away.” There was silence for a long moment, and then the door finally opened. The magician stood there in an undershirt, his suspenders hanging down on either side. “You didn’t go away.”
    “You’re a good magician. We were watching,” said Dash.
    “How old are you boys?”
    They answered in unison: “Twelve—”
    “—almost,” Walt added.
    “Well, thanks for the compliment, almost-twelve-year-old persons. Now,
so long.
”
    He began to close the door, but Walter put his palm against it. “Uh, could I just get an autograph, or something? Please, sir?”
    Blumenthal stared at them through the half-closed door. “You liked the rope trick? The
furshlugginer
rope trick?”
    “
Yes
,” said Dash. “It was a very
original
effect. Five ropes.