Zing - Las Vegas Card Shark

Las Vegas Card Shark

Introduction:
Zing Takes Vegas by Storm

Setting:
Las Vegas, 1961

Hittin the Strip in Style!

Lee had originally planned to stop in Denver, but now she decided to drive straight through to Las Vegas. It seemed as if every time she stopped, for whatever reason, she had an 'adventure', and losing her heart in Bennington had put her off of adventuring for a while.

'I really wish Wayland hadn't fixed the scratches in the car,' she thought petulantly as she drove. 'It was nice of him to fix the trunk lock, but now I've got to worry about someone stealing the car!' She couldn't believe her bad luck, falling for the only superhero in the Southwestern US. 'I can't believe he kept it secret from me! When did he think he was going to tell me, anyway?' She was working up her anger to counteract her sadness; she didn't even see the irony of the secret she was keeping from Wayland. Or maybe she just ignored it...

To keep her mind off Wayland, she pondered an unusual aspect of her powers the she'd never really paid attention to before. And even when she only sped up her reactions a bit for driving these days, she had a lot of time to think. When she concentrated and sped up her reaction time a lot, or 'slowed time' around her, as she called it, the world looked and sounded different to her. All sounds became lower-pitched and more drawn out and every color shifted down the spectrum; violet to blue to green to yellow to orange to red to black... and she had started to notice a new color that would show up overlaying other colors, an intense white slightly tinged with pale blue or pale violet. Many objects had patterns on them in this new color, patterns that were invisible when her reactions were normal.

As an engineer, she understood the Doppler effect on sounds, and figured there must be a similar effect for light. This white light must be how her eyes and brain interpreted ultraviolet in slow time. She wondered; if she could run fast enough (or move far enough into slow time), would she start seeing by x-rays? ‘Probably not – they should pass right through me, even in slow time. I don’t _think_ my physical body changes… but I can absorb electricity and am immune to heat these days – so there MUST be some physical changes?’ She thought about this for a while, too. ‘I guess I should check that out someday, too.’ She tabled that for some other time and started making plans for her sojourn in Las Vegas. ‘First stop – clothes! This is going to be FUN!’

A few miles outside of Las Vegas, she stopped, made a withdrawal from 'The First Bank of Lee', and rolled into town with 80 large in her purse. For a while, she drove around at random until she found an expensive-looking clothing store, named Hoity Toity Las Vegas. She walked in, and went up to the counter.

"I just won big at one of the casinos!" she excitedly told the manager. "I've always dreamed of shopping in a store like this. Dress me in the best you've got, and don't worry about the cost."

What manager wouldn't love a client such as this? She enthusiastically called in a tailor and a couple of hours and about $5000 later, Miss Lee Han of Chicago was dressed from the skin out in the most expensive clothes Hoity Toity had to offer, custom fit just for her. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a stunning black strappy satin dress, daringly short, low in front and back, with pleats at the bust. As well, she had on silk stockings, shiny black heels and carried a new purse, all top of the line. Topped off with a black fascinator hat with black lace partially covering her left eye.

"Carmen Miranda got nuthin’ on me!" she exclaimed in glee as she strutted in front of the mirror. "This is wonderful; I've never worn anything so beautiful! Still, I won’t mind getting used to it."

"The tailor will be finished with the rest of your things tomorrow afternoon, madam," the manager told her respectfully. Miss Han had paid cash, and even at this exclusive store, they didn't get cash purchases this size very often. Most women brought their most glamorous outfits with them to Vegas, and usually only purchased a couple things before they used up their money, certainly never a whole new wardrobe. "Should we have them delivered to your hotel?"

“Uh oh!” Miss Han thought fast. "You know, I think I'm going to change hotels as well. As long as I can afford it, I might as well go with the best, right?!" she replied, giggling. "What's the best hotel in town?"

"Other people might tell you different, but I recommend the Pantheon," the manager said, and several of the sales people agreed.

"OK, give me two hours, to check out of the dump I’m at now and check in at the Pantheon, and I'll give you a call. Thanks!" And with that, Miss Lee Han of Chicago headed for the Pantheon Hotel.

The Parthenon Hotel included a casino and a bank, open 24 hours a day, as well as a chapel, several restaurants, a pool, a gym, tennis courts, access to a country club and golf, movie theater, nightclub and cabaret, laundry and tailor, and more. Miss Lee Han checked in, and everyone she talked with heard how she had just won big at another casino. She was quickly settled in the Presidential Suite on the top floor, with access to the park on the roof. She deposited 70 large in the bank and headed for the hotel's casino. The staff started a pool to guess how long it would be before she gambled it all away. They all lost!

Over the next several days, Lee fell into a daily routine. She dressed superbly, enjoyed the Vegas party scene and made her way into the most elevated social circles. She mingled and flirted with some of the most eligible and famous men in the world. And she gambled. To disguise her winnings or losses, she played at several different casinos each day, and played several different games at each casino. She actually lost a little more than she won, but her bank account grew steadily as she withdrew money from 'the First Bank of Lee' and deposited it with the hotel bank.

She found that her speed didn't give her much of an advantage in most of the games. She _could_ slow time at the craps table enough so that she could reach out and influence the dice, but she found that when she did, the wind she created by super speed motion was very noticeable in the climate-controlled casinos, which were usually thick with smoke. She quickly realized that slow time could be best utilized in card games. In slow time, she could easily see the sleight-of-hand tricks that shady dealers used, which allowed her to avoid crooked games, or take advantage of them.

But her biggest advantage came in poker. Most poker players, even the best, have an almost instant reaction when they look at a new hand or new cards on the draw. In normal time, most people can't see this reaction; the best players control it instantly and instinctively. But 'instantly' had a different meaning to Lee, and she soon learned how to read those 'instantly' controlled reactions. This didn't give her a big edge; when someone else had a stronger hand, she rarely won by bluffing. But a skillful poker player usually wins more than she loses, and a skillful poker player with an edge does even better. Once she figured this out, she played a lot more poker than any other game and won more than she lost.

And then one day, everything changed.

These Cards are MARKED!

Lee was playing in a high stakes poker game, and she was watching the dealer closely in slow time. The dealer had just opened a new deck and she noticed something different about the backs of the cards. It was very hard to make out; so she slowed time down even more, and the markings on the back of the cards became clearer. In slow time, the backs of the cards had the same image as the fronts of the cards!

She couldn't believe that everyone else was just ignoring it. She sped up time and when she reached regular time again, she realized why - the markings were invisible. After that, poker got a lot easier. She withdrew after a while, and wandered around the casino. The same brand of cards was used in every card game, and half the cards were marked. She watched a couple of games where the cards were not marked, and every new deck that was cracked open was marked identically. Someone had supplied the casino with hundreds of desks of marked cards. That someone HAD to be working at the company that made those cards, as the dealers always made a point of showing everyone that the decks were coming out of sealed packages, presumably sealed at the factory.

Several other casinos used the same brand of cards, and by the next day, every game in town that used that brand of cards was using marked cards! And nobody but Lee seemed to notice.

New Player at the Table

The player next to Lee was tapped out. She was playing 5 card draw in the Parthenon casino, and was sorry to see him leave. He'd started with a large stack of chips, a good many of which were now in front of her. He'd fed the whole table, actually. It was a lot harder taking money from the other pros around her, even though she knew every card, and they were all hoping another mark would take the seat. But usually, after watching someone lose that much money, that fast, the watchers were generally shy about joining the game. This time was an exception.

"Mind if I join you folks?" A tall, fit man in a perfectly tailored dark blue 3-piece suit pulled out the chair and placed a stack of chips on the table. His red hair was cut short in a brush cut; he had a carefully trimmed handlebar mustache and an Uncle Sam-style beard. If his hair had been black he probably would have looked somewhat sinister; as it was, he looked distinguished and kind of ... 'maybe impish says it best' she thought to herself.

"Glad to have you" "Please do" "mutter" and other greetings wrapped around the table, and the deal began again. Some things never change!

"I couldn't help but notice your beauty, young lady" he said to her. "Maybe sitting next to you will bring me some luck."

"You need luck to rub off, then maybe you shouldn't join the game, bub. We all make our own luck at this table," she replied with amusement. It was amazing how many guys used a line like that to come on to her at the tables. ‘Don't they understand that poker is serious business?’

"So I see," he said easily as he glanced significantly at her stacks of chips. "Still, making my own luck is something I'm good at."

They played for a while, and there were some big pots, but the play was mostly even. A few hands in, the redhead turned to her. "Miss Han, may I buy you a drink?"

"How'd you know my name?" she asked him suspiciously.

"I asked around. You have quite a reputation as a poker player, Miss Han. And you really are a beauty," he replied smoothly. "I doubt you find it surprising when someone knows your name. About that drink?" Very suave, was this gentleman.

"Sure, I'll have a drink, thanks." She liked it when the men playing at her table bought her drinks; they all seemed to think that if they could get her drunk, she'd start playing wildly and losing. Instead, if she altered her reaction time and sped up her metabolism enough, she could easily burn off the effects of any drink almost instantly. "Who is it that's buying my drink, please?" she asked politely.

The World's Greatest Magician

"You might have heard of me as well. I'm Milo Minelli, also known as 'The World's Greatest Magician'," he replied.

"At least, the World's Greatest Charmer, Mr. Minelli," she gave him her best smile. "You're the feature act at the Golden Gate Casino, yes? I go there often."

"So you've seen my show?" he asked, just a touch of eagerness in his voice.

'Almost like a little kid' she thought. 'Too bad I have to let him down.' She shook her head "Nope, I just play poker there often."

"Ah" he said, crestfallen. She almost laughed. "Perhaps you might take in my next performance?" He handed her a ticket which he hadn't been holding a second ago. She was impressed; she hadn't seen how he'd done the trick.

'Next time, slow time' she promised herself. 'I've always wondered how they do that!'

She accepted the ticket, picked up her cards. "A thousand," she said, and tossed a chip on the table.

Lee noticed that Minelli was studying the other players as closely as she studied the backs of their cards. He eventually focused on two players, Lee herself and a guy across the table who seemed to win more than his share. She studied him herself; why did Minelli find him so interesting?

He was an anonymous-looking guy, neatly cut brown hair, average face, average build, dressed in an inexpensive suit. He never drew attention to himself, never laughed, smiled or groaned at his bad luck, and lost often, but only on small pots, and the hands he won more than covered his losses. His stack never seemed to grow, though - as she watched him in slow time she realized he was very skilled in sleight-of-hand, and whenever he won, several chips went into his sleeve, and later into his pocket. She was also astonished when she realized by his play that he could read the backs of the cards as well as she could!

She'd been looking for this guy, or somebody like him, ever since she'd discovered the marked cards. It had cost a lot of money to set this thing up; they had to be paying some folks back at the card factory big time, both to mark the cards and then keep quiet about it. She wanted a cut of that; she could probably get it by threatening to turn them in. She would keep track of this guy and see if he led her to someone else.

She didn't like the way Minelli was studying her, so she decided to play honestly for a while. She stopped using slow time to read the cards, but she still read the players, and she didn’t try to hide that. After all, that's something all poker players tried to do. She lost a couple bluffs, raised big and lost big on a very good hand against a monster hand. She won big on the next hand, folded several terrible hands, lost one more time, and called it a day.

Minelli, with whom she'd made small talk throughout the game, cashed in at the same time. "I'd be honored, Miss Han, if you'd allow me the pleasure of escorting you to dinner." She wasn't sure if she was comfortable around him or not; he'd stopped focusing on her when she'd lost to the monster hand. If she’d actually been reading the cards, she would have known to fold on that particular hand, so maybe she’d fooled him. But he was clearly a sharp observer, and she definitely didn't want him watching her that closely.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Minelli. Such an intense game always leaves me drained. I need some rest."

His face fell. "Perhaps some other time, then?" He held out his hand, she reached to shake hands with him, and instead he bent and kissed her hand! "Please attend one of my performances. 7 PM every night."

He had reached behind himself with his other arm, and as he straightened, he pulled it forward with a flourish. "Please take this bouquet to brighten your room." He handed her a large bouquet of beautiful vibrant red roses, freshly picked.

'Darn, missed it again!' she swore silently. "Where did you get those?" she asked, charmed in spite of herself. She could probably do a trick like that if she wanted to, but it would get pretty windy nearby.

"I AM billed as the World's Greatest Magician, my dear. And a Magician never tells!"

"Thank you, kind sir," she smiled, then curtsied. Why not, she was in Vegas to have fun. "You've convinced me; expect me at one of your performances."

"Which one?" he wondered. "I'll put on a special!"

"I AM a woman, my dear" she said mysteriously. "And a woman _never_ tells!" She took her beautiful bouquet and headed for the elevator.

Follow the Money

As soon as she turned the corner, Lee raced up the stairs to her room. She put on a much less conspicuous outfit, a tan tailored tweed suit with matching pillbox hat and a beaded clutch purse. She had on the green boots from her costume and carried a pair of black heels.

'If I was taller, I'd look kinda like that girl reporter on the Sturdiman TV show, Lucious Lamel,' she thought as she saw herself in the mirror. 'Kinda acting like her, too, sneaking around and tailing a crook. But I'm sure not gonna need Sturdiman to come to my rescue!' she chuckled, and then was back down the stairs two instants later. Just before she stepped out of the stairwell, she dropped the boots into her purse and donned her heals.

Lee peaked around the corner and was pleased to see Milo just leaving the hotel, and was even more pleased when she went back into the casino and Mr. Average was still there. She impatiently watched him discreetly from the bar, and had to turn away a number of advances, although she did ask one guy to give her a call later.

Finally, Mr. Average picked up his chips and left the game. She hopped up her reflexes a little, just to insure he couldn't 'pull a fast one' on her, and got ready to follow. Instead, she saw him make an unnoticeable hand signal ('well, unnoticeable to anyone but me!' she thought smugly), and a man watching a game across the room headed this way. Another very average looking man...

They both entered the Men's Room a half minute apart, and came out that way, too, not long after. Curious, she walked casually towards the cashier and watched as Mr. Average converted his chips to cash. It wasn't nearly the amount she knew he had won. A couple of minutes later, the other man also converted a lot of chips to cash.

'Playing the same game I am,' she realized. 'Hiding their winnings. I wonder if I should get a partner as well?’ She shook her head, with a sly smile playing across her face. 'Nope, that would mean sharing. Besides, I'm going to get a giant payoff from these guys, no more winning a couple measly thousand a day!'

Lee didn't want to spoil her expensive business suit, so she risked losing the men by again speeding up the fire stairs and to her room. 'Sure feels great being in costume again,' she thought to herself as she stopped for a very brief inspection in the mirror. 'Lookin' pretty good, too! High time Vegas meets Zing, Queen of Quick!'

To her relief, the two men were just reaching the street when she peeked through the fire door. At top speed, she flashed through the lobby and onto the street. 'Zing shouldn't have to sneak out of anywhere!' she thought to herself indignantly. 'A Queen must maintain a certain amount of decorum. I'll buy a house tomorrow.'

The two men called a cab which headed out of town. Zing followed, using several super speed tricks to make sure they wouldn't see her. Signs of civilization disappeared quickly as they passed the city limits; Las Vegas had no suburbs to speak of. She enjoyed running through the cold, clear air; she would have to try it again sometime when she wasn't on business. About 10 miles outside of town, the cab pulled into a jam packed parking lot under a big, bright flashing neon sign. “Peaches and Dreams Inn” in bright blue alternated with “Girls! Girls! Girls!” in equally bright red and yellow.

Strangely enough, the cab waited and the men returned in less than 5 minutes. That was hardly time enough to doff a coat; what was going on here? As the cab left, another pulled up, and two more similarly anonymous men got out.

'I don't think they're here for the Peaches," she smirked. ‘Guess I'm finally get to see the inside of one of these places,’ she chuckled to herself, then disappeared. Vibrating internally so she could pass through the walls, she quickly ran through one exotically decorated room after another. Most of the rooms were occupied; she didn't slow down to see what the occupants were doing. Then she flashed through a very large office, which looked much more interesting to her.

A man sat behind a large desk, perhaps the size of a conference room table, and another much larger man stood just inside the door. Behind the desk was an old-fashioned steel floor safe, perhaps 4 feet tall. On the desk were several thick bundles of bills, held together by rubber bands. The two anonymous visitors were just dropping similar bundles of bills on the desk, each about an inch thick with rubber bands around their middles. Already on the desk were 8 similar bundles. Atop each stack was a hundred dollar bill. If all the bills in each stack were hundreds, there was around a hundred thousand dollars on the top of that desk!

To the men in the room, a small woman dressed in green simply materialized out of the air, accompanied by an unusual draft. "Gentlemen, I'm your new partner. My cut is half the day's take, and my contribution to the partnership will be keeping the secret."

"Like hell you say! Jake, take care of her." The big man pulled a pistol and fired twice. He couldn't have missed, but the bullets thudded into the wall behind her. This unnerved Jake, and he emptied the rest of the clip. The bullets seemed to magically pass right through her!

"My turn," she said calmly. She stepped forward, leaned to the side, and landed a kick on Jake's jaw before he could move. Jake's head snapped around and he collapsed heavily to the floor. "Anybody else?"

The man at the desk opened a drawer. A strong breeze blew past his face. He stared in astonishment when he realized that the drawer was empty. He looked up and the woman in green was holding his pistol in one hand and 5 of the bundles of cash in the other.

"I don't really want to put you boys out of business," she said crossly. "But you better stop screwing around or I'll take it all."

"The boss is gonna kill me if I don't deliver the full 100 grand!" said the man behind the desk hoarsely.

"And why is that my problem?" Zing asked coldly. "I'm actually saving your life. I've heard that cheating the casinos is like cheating the mob, and cheating the mob is certain death. I imagine that shipping marked cards from the Unicycle factory might be considered cheating. Betcha the mob AND the FBI would be looking for a pound of flesh, or maybe a lot more, if the word got out. So… you pay me $50 grand a day, I keep the secret."

She vanished as the two anonymous men lunged for her, and reappeared instantly behind them. "So, I'll see you tomorrow night, eh, boys? Same time, same channel. And make sure you bring my cut, or it will be your last day in operation. Ta ta, boys!" She disappeared and a sharp wind blew across the room.

"Jeez, Joey. Are you gonna tell the boss?" one of the anonymous men asked.

"You macaroon! Course I tell the boss. Wadda ya think, I want him op'nin t'nite's envelop and bein surprised seein it 50 grand short, and nobody's said a word to him? 'Sides, I got me a few ideers 'bout tamarra night. Ya knows the boss likes guys what shows 'tishootive." He laughed. "Der'll be some surprises for that bitch tamarra, yes siree!" With an evil smile on his face, he picked up the phone and started dialing.

Magicians Undercover

Two large men in dark striped suits fell into step with a tall, distinguished-looking black man (think Sydney Poitier at 50) as he entered the Magic Tables casino. "Please come with us, Mr. Jones," one of them said, quietly.

"Do I have any choice?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, sir, you can turn around and leave the casino," the other said politely.

Jones abhorred violence, though he had some experience with it over the years. Even more, he wished to avoid damaging his suit, which had cost more than those of both these goons combined, plus an extra month's salary for each thrown in. "Sure, gents," he said casually. "We going to see Mr. Rackham, I assume?" Neither answered. "Talkative guys, eh? Well, I'll just have to talk to Rackham, then."

He was quiet for the rest of the half minute walk down a corridor no tourist ever saw. Sure enough, they led him into the Security Office and Rackham was waiting. For long seconds, nobody said anything, then, realizing that Jones wasn't going to speak first, Rackham broke the silence.

"Damn, Jonesy, I thought you got the message the last time we escorted you out. We don't want your kind in here."

Jones's expression didn't change, but suddenly the room felt 50 degrees colder. "Courtney, I asked you to call me Tom." Rackham winced; he went out of his way to keep his first name secret. "What's this about 'my kind'?" Jones asked in a dangerous tone.

Rackham flinched and held up his hands, palms out. "Sorry, Tom, I won't ferget again. You know the boss doesn't like the way you wins at Blackjack all the time, even dough we can't pin nothin' on ya. Just guys like you that wins alla the time is all I meant. I din't mean nothing else; c'mon, ya knows me better'n that!"

"You still can't believe I'm just that good, can you?" Tom asked sarcastically. He did know that Rackham hadn't been referring to his skin color - his money was the same as anyone else's. "I think you better call the boss, Rack," Jones said in less menacing tones. "Somebody forgot to tell you, I'm working with him now."

"Yeah, that'll be the day," Rackham mocked. "Sorry if I find that hard to believe."

"Is, isn't it?" Jones grinned, then his expression darkened again. Rackham hastily picked up the phone.

A few minutes, Rackham was apologizing profusely. Jones ignored him and entered the casino. A couple of hours later, he was backstage at the Golden Gate Casino, comparing notes with Milo Minelli.

*****

"No evidence of anyone at the Magic Tables reading cards. But two of the suspects were playing at the Atlantis, winning steadily. Looks like whatever these guys are doing, it only works with Unicycle cards." Tom's tone changed; he was disgusted by what he'd encountered earlier. "I had trouble getting into both places, too. They've decided I win too much, and they can't figure out why. Guess they never learned to count."

He paused, looked his partner over carefully. "Are you sure we're runnin' with the right side here, Milo? Aren't half the casinos run by the mob? What do we care if a bunch of card sharks figured out some way to beat 'em?"

"Only half, Tom? Your faith in your fellow man is touching," Milo chuckled. "If it was just the casinos getting ripped off, I wouldn't lift a finger. But it's tough enough already for a tourist to win legit in Vegas without some clowns raking off a hundred grand a day. Anyway, I saw two more of the suspects at the Parthenon. I think Miss Han's an independent, though. And I think she made me, too. About halfway through the game, she suddenly started playing legit."

"Somebody at the Unicycle factory must be doctoring the cards." Tom mused thoughtfully. "But I've examined one of the marked decks with a microscope and can't find anything. Maybe it's invisible ink - but how are they reading it?"

Invisible ink was a standard in the repertoire of any stage magician; both men knew dozens of ways to 'develop' it. And eventually, after multiple applications of chemical swabs, heating the cards, and exposing them to powerful light, they finally found the answer. Under a black light, they could see that printed on the back of each card, in glowing invisible ink, was the image from the front, reversed.

"But they're not using a black light," Milo protested.

Tom cocked his head, thought for a moment. "Professor Wildman used to have special contact lenses to see ultra-violet. Maybe science has finally caught up with him?"

As a youngster, Milo, along with his brother Frankie and their adult friend, Tom Jones, had worked in the traveling magic show of his father, Valdini the Great. There was plenty of time to read as they rode the rails between cities and new jobs, and the pulp “Professor Wildman” magazine had always been their favorite. 'Prof' and his 5 assistants, each a genius and world famous in his field, traveled the globe helping people and righting wrongs just because it was the right thing to do. Prof was the greatest genius of them all, and science and technology were just now starting to invent for real some of Wildman’s fictional crime-fighting inventions. And a lot of the pair’s stage magic tricks were based on similar tricks Wildman had used in the pulps.

After his father was murdered, Milo had used his stage magic and deductive skills he'd learned from the Prof. Wildman stories to identify the murderer. He, Frankie, and Tom had honored Valdini's memory and adopted his traveling magic show as their own. Strangely, trouble and mysteries found them wherever they went, and they always managed to sort things out and make things right. Frankie had eventually gone to college and got a 'real' job, but the stage was in the blood of both Milo and Tom.

A week ago, a representative of the Council of Casino Owners had asked Tom and Milo to see if they could find out why collective profits had fallen by almost a million a week. The pair normally didn't work for money; doing right for the sake of right was sort of their hobby. But the Council had insisted on a contract. They wouldn't do business otherwise.

"So now that we know, what do we do?" Milo mused. "Just go back to the casino Owners' Council and tell them? That would fulfill our contract."

"Bad idea!" Tom was emphatic. "They'd probably just start torturing and killing people. I think we should go to the FBI; they can arrest the guys behind this and maybe keep 'em safe."

"We won't get paid if the FBI solves the case," Milo pointed out. He didn't seem too worried about it.

Tom smiled. "We sure don't need the dough, as popular as the show is. And I really don't want their money anyway. Probably has blood on it, somehow."

The World's Greatest Magic Show

A tall, beautiful brunette in a black top hat, black cutaway tuxedo, knee high black boots and not much else, pushed through the curtains and into the glare of a single spotlight on the darkened stage.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen" she purred into the microphone. "My name is Zorganna Jones, and I'd like to welcome you to the Valdini Traveling Magic Show. Be prepared to be astonished at the amazing illusions and acts of magic performed by Milo Minelli, the World's Greatest Magician!"



The spotlight faded to dark. As the stage lights came up enough to give the stage a dusky illumination, there was a flurry of orchestra music and a puff of opaque gray smoke in the center of the stage grew into a column. A tall man in a more conservative masculine version of Zorganna's outfit stepped out of the column of smoke, which was instantly whisked away by an offstage fan. The applause he drew was reminiscent of monsoon rains beating down on a tin roof; the magician removed his top hat and bowed low.

As he began the show, Milo scanned the crowd. Despite the stage lights at his feet that illuminated the stage and made the rest of the room appear almost pitch black, he was able to pick out the charming young woman he had met at the poker table, Miss Lee Han (who we also know as Zing and/or Heat Lightning) sitting in the front row.

'Welcome, Miss Han,' he thought to himself. 'I hope you enjoy this evening's show.'

It was a great show. Another assistant, the very blonde, very buxom Wendy, dressed in a red witch's outfit, joined them on stage. Wendy squealed several times as one article of her clothing after another vanished, usually with a ‘poof’, explained as an 'unexpected side effect' of whatever spell Milo was currently casting. Things floated unsupported in the air, including Zorganna, who rose into the air under a shroud and then vanished. Animals and objects appeared from nowhere, then vanished as mysteriously. The by-now scantily-clad Wendy assisted in the Indian Rope Trick, climbing up the rope and disappearing. While the men in the crowd groaned in disappointment, she reappeared a minute later, stepping out of a collapsible cabinet that had just been assembled on the stage, her witch’s outfit fully restored.

Lee used 'slow time' to scrutinize each feat intently, determined to unravel the secrets of stage magic. When Milo did a 'sleight of hand' trick, she could usually see how he did it.

'He's very good,' she thought to herself, 'but no hand is quicker than MY eye!'

Many of the illusions relied on distracting the audience (such as Wendy squealing when her jacket vanished) and slow time allowed her to recognize the distraction and then discern the secret. But there were some feats, such as Milo levitating Zorganna, that even in slow time, she couldn't figure.

'He IS very good!' she thought in wonder. 'Could he be mixing real magic with his stage illusions?' Zing was no stranger to real magic; several of the members of the heroic group Equity Concord of America in her original dimension were magical and it had been a magical spell that had brought her to this dimension. And Dr. Aeon of the Alliance of Mystery Heroes was reputed to be a powerful sorceress from yet another dimension. But she had not, as yet, personally encountered real magic on this world. Maybe she was seeing her first evidence tonight?

About 40 minutes into the show, Milo walked to the front of the stage and addressed the audience:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce my partner. We take turns leading the show. His turn is next week. If you enjoyed my presentation, you should come back next week for his, which is totally different. Please welcome my partner, the World's Second Greatest Magician, Tom Jones!"

Milo flicked his wand, and a beam of lightning blasted out, producing another puff of smoke. Wendy squealed and ran across the length of the stage and disappeared behind a curtain stage left as yet again, most of her clothes vanished. The smoke cleared, leaving behind a perfectly ordinary framed door, like the front door of your house.

The door opened and out stepped Tom Jones, clad similarly to Milo. He bowed to the audience, who applauded wildly. "Thanks, folks. Don't listen to Mr. Second Best here, I'm really the World's Greatest Magician."

"Not on your life!" Milo responded, heatedly.

For the next twenty minutes, they riffed on the "I'm the Greatest, not him!" theme, each magician performing bolder and more impressive exploits, until finally Milo put a stop to it.

"I'll prove who's the Greatest with a feat you'll NEVER top! Wendy, the pistols, please!"

Once again fully clad, Wendy came on-stage carrying an ornately carved and decorated wooden box. Milo opened the box and Wendy pulled out three identical pistols, old Western six shooters with long barrels and polished ivory handles. She handed a pistol to Tom, another to Zorganna, and kept the last one for herself.

"And now, Milo, the World's Greatest Magician..." Zorganna began. "This week!" Tom muttered, loudly enough for the audience to hear. "…will perform the most dangerous feat of all, defying death as he blocks bullets with nothing more than a handkerchief!"

Milo handed a pistol to each of his confederates while positioning them in a line to stage left. He walked over to stage right. By the time he turned back to his associates, their outfits had mystically morphed into cowboy outfits, with Tom as the sheriff and the two girls as scantily-clad desperados. All eyes had been on Milo - nobody had noticed the change in costumes until now.

"Hold on, ya dag blasted owlhoot! How d'we know there's real bullets in these here guns?" Tom asked in a phony Western accent.

Milo flicked his wand, lightning flashed out and a target appeared on stage. "Spin the cylinders on your pistols so you won't know which chamber you'll be shooting," Milo commanded "and then, on my command, each of you take two shots at the target."

The Sheriff and the desperados faced the target. “Ready!” They spun cylinders. “Aim!” Sheriff Quickdraw Jones holstered his gun, while both Locoweed Jones and Joy Juice Harvey each brought both arms up in front of them, hands together, in a perfect shooting stance. “Fire!” Jones drew his weapon and all 3 fired almost simultaneously. Three holes appeared in the target, one in the bulls eye and the other two just outside it. Locoweed Jones squealed as, this time, an article of _her_ clothing disappeared. Nobody noticed that only 2 fingers actually squeezed the triggers of their pistols.

“Gotta admit, that’s some high falautin shootin, pards!” Milo reluctantly complimented the trio. “Agin. Ready! Aim! Fire!” Three more shots rang out, and this time, all three bullet holes were in the bulls eye. Once again, no one noticed that only 2 triggers were pulled.

"OK, buckaroo, Ah reckon yore bein' straight with us," Sheriff Jones conceded as Milo finished his preparations.

"OK, on command, fire at my heart. Make sure you don't miss!" Milo dramatically ordered his team. He showed the crowd a sheet of cloth with a large pink heart printed on it. He centered the cloth heart to be directly in front of his own heart. "Ready? Aim! Fire!"

This time, all three pulled their triggers. Lee was using slow time to figure out this trick, and she watched a long tongue of flame and a jet of dark smoke drift slowly from the barrels of the three guns. She was startled to realize that one of them had fired a real bullet! In slow time, it drifted lazily towards dead center of the cloth 'shield' Milo was holding.

Lee had never tried to stop a bullet before. She flashed instantly onto the stage, reached out and closed her hand around the bullet. It was hot. Though she was invulnerable to the heat, the bullet continued slowly and inexorably along its deadly trajectory, no matter how she strained to stop it.

'If I can't stop it, I'll have to try and deflect it.' she thought in alarm. She tried to lift the bullet with gentle, steady pressure, shuffling her feet to keep up with its slow movement. 'Damn, this thing is stubborn!' she groused to herself. 'But I think it's started to rise.' Another two feet of ultra-slow motion and she was sure, the bullet was now at shoulder level. Over the next six feet, the bullet was well above her head and its slow-motion trajectory would easily pass harmlessly above Milo's head. All this had happened in the time it took the bullet to travel the 20 feet from gun barrel to intended target; those sitting around her hadn't yet had time to notice she had gone.

Now, several things happened as close to simultaneously as normal humans could measure. Lee returned to her seat and relaxed back into normal time, three bullets bounced off the cloth target and fell harmlessly to the stage, and somewhere off stage to the right, a fourth bullet smashed into the wall of the theater. Milo picked up the three bullets and opened his hand so that crowd could see. The audience applauded thunderously as Wendy gathered the pistols and locked them back into the box.

Tom muttered, sotto voice, "Just wait until next week!" and grudgingly bowed to his partner.

The two magicians and their two beautiful assistants made their bows to the audience, the stage lights dimmed, stagehands began clearing the magical apparatus and the MC came onstage to introduce the next act.

*****

As the four headed for the dressing rooms, they were approached by the hotel manager. The little man stomped towards them, his teeth clenched, his brows furrowed. They could almost see the superheated steam blasting from his ears.

"Minelli, you jackass! What do you think you're doing, shooting real bullets in MY theater? Pack up your trunks and get out of here; you're FIRED!"

"That's impossible, Mr. Caldwell! We NEVER use live ammo! You've seen the precautions we take."

Milo's father, The Great Valdini, had always closed his show with the bullet blocking trick, drafting volunteers from the crowd to shoot the pistols he loaded and handed to them. The trick had been an instant sensation and Valdini had become one of the most sought-after magicians in the country. It had also led to his on-stage death during a performance, in front of his horrified young son and a live audience, when a jealous rival magician had volunteered, replaced his blank with a live round and pulled the trigger himself.

Milo now performed the same trick to honor his father, but he and Tom had devised additional precautions to ensure his safety. The blanks used in the pistols didn’t use gunpowder, they used a powder that Tom had invented that caused the gun to spit a tongue of fire and a little smoke without making a sound. The noise of the pistol shots was actually three firecrackers, detonated by another assistant backstage who pushed a button with precise timing. Milo personally loaded all the blank rounds and locked them in a small safe to which only he had the combination. Before each show, Milo would personally put six blanks into each pistol, and then place the pistols into an ornate wooden box, which was actually a steel strongbox with wooden paneling, and then lock the box. Milo had the only key, and the box remained locked until Wendy presented it to him on the stage.

Shooting at the target was yet another safety check, one that Milo invented himself. If there were live rounds in any of the guns, the idea was that there would be more than three bullet holes in the target. It had taken a lot of practice to get the timing down perfectly, which was why the explosions of the firecrackers were staggered slightly. The first six firecrackers were actually embedded in the target, which produced the ‘bullet’ holes. And after the third round of shots, the round aimed at the handkerchief, Milo dropped 3 bullets he had palmed previously onto the stage.

To an outsider, these precautions might have seemed excessive, but any stage magician's stock in trade was practice, precision, precaution and illusion – and more practice. But this time, no one had actually noticed that one of the pistols had only spit fire and smoke after the third round of shooting.

"Your precautions failed! Get out!" Caldwell screamed.

Tom stepped between Milo and Caldwell. "Mr. Caldwell, how did you know that a bullet was fired? Wouldn't we have all found out when it hit Milo?"

"Come with me!" Caldwell led them around the back of the stage, where they encountered another stagehand. "Timmy, tell these guys what happened, and show them the bullet hole!"

Timmy's story was simple. At the same instant that he heard the pistol shots on-stage, a curtain had jumped and some plaster fell from the wall. When he'd investigated, he found a hole in the curtain and a hole in the wall, about 12 feet up. Tommy put up a ladder at that spot, and Milo himself dug the bullet from the wall.

"Jiminy Cricket! You're right, Mr. Caldwell, and I'm terribly sorry," Milo exclaimed loudly as he wiped sweat from his face. "Lucky for me one of you is a terrible shot," he said to his partners. He turned back to the distraught manager. "Mr. Caldwell, you know the magic show is making you a bundle. Suppose we replace the bullet blocking trick with one that doesn't use pistols?"

Caldwell was somewhat mollified that Milo didn't try to deny the shooting, and more so as the next 4 shows were already sold out. He couldn't get a replacement act in time for tomorrow's shows, and even if he did, it would make the audience angry. The Jones and Minelli Traveling Magic Show was his main attraction and he knew it.

He agreed, and Milo asked him for another favor. "You're aware that Tom and I are working for the Casino Owners' Council to find out how you guys are being scammed?"

Caldwell was; like everyone else in casino management, he was outraged that a group had somehow found a way to skim about $100,000 from the casinos' total profits each day.

"This incident is probably related. It would really help our investigation if you and Timmy don't tell anyone about this. They might get careless if they think we still don't know they're after us."

Caldwell and Timmy agreed. Back in the privacy of their dressing room, Tom and Milo discussed the new mystery which had just dropped into their laps

"It's almost like a locked room murder, isn't it?" Milo asked his partner. "Who switched a live round for a blank in a pistol that was in a locked box? We've solved so many crimes and mysteries over the years that we surely have some enemies." He looked thoughtful. "I wonder if we'll ever find out which of you guys fired that bullet?"

“You’re kidding, right?” Tom laughed at his partner. Milo laughed as well – both men had instantly figured out the identity of the attempted murderer.

Houdini Redux

Milo and Tom were always working on new stunts, constantly trying to top each other. Milo spent a considerable amount of time that night putting the finishing touches on a stunt that he felt was compelling enough to replace the bullet blocking trick, and having a few other new weapons in his arsenal could never be a bad thing. He was going to need some help doing the testing. Even though she didn't officially start her 'stage assistant' job until 6 PM, the next morning, Wendy the Witch got a phone call from the boss.

"Hi, Wendy. Sorry to bother you, but I need some help today and I wonder if you're free? See, I want to practice a few new stunts today. I want to keep them secret from everybody, especially Tom, until I actually use them." Yes, she was free, but she had other plans for today. "Double time?" he wheedled, and she agreed. "Meet me at the back door of the theater in an hour!" Milo was enthusiastic. "And thanks again!"

"The bullet blocking trick is getting pretty threadbare," Milo explained to his assistant. "Everyone in Vegas has either seen it already, or heard about it." They were in a big room at the back of the theater, usually used by the girls in the chorus lines to change their outfits. "I want to close the show with a new stunt, something that's so spectacular people won't even miss the bullet trick. And I don't want Tom to know about it in advance; I want to surprise him," he winked at her. "A couple of years ago, I started to learn one of Houdini's escape tricks. I never really got the hang of it; it was too dangerous and I gave it up. But I've fiddled with it a lot in my spare time, and I think I finally got it worked out."

"If it's so dangerous, maybe you really better get Tom to help you instead of me," Wendy replied nervously. "I've never worked with a magician before this gig with you guys. I'm trying to get started in a singing career and I've had to take some of these showgirl-type jobs just to pay the bills. What if something goes wrong?"

"Don't worry, I've planned for that," Milo smiled confidently. "Nothing can go wrong. Let me show you the setup!"

He explained the trick, showed her how it worked, and they practiced it a couple of times. The prop for this trick was a square wooden crate with three solid sides and a bottom. There was a length of pipe secured to each of the solid opposing sides which seemed to Wendy to have no purpose. The front side was hinged and held closed with three latches; when the latches were released it could be swung down, allowing the audience to see inside and making it easy for Milo to get into the box. At the start of the stunt, there was no top on the crate.

Wendy would lace Milo into a straitjacket, and then he scrunched up and wriggled into the crate, his back pressed tightly against one side, his legs drawn up so that his knees were almost in his face. There was a seat belt attached to the bottom of the crate; Wendy would fasten it across Milo's waist and then draw it tight. The audience would be able to see all this; it was clear that Milo was tightly bound and almost immobilized. Next, the front of the crate was swung up and locked shut. Finally, Wendy put a wooden top onto the crate and drove 4 nails through it and into the crate's frame to close it securely. In a live show, the box would be nailed shut by a volunteer from the audience.

In their first practice attempt, about 5 minutes after Wendy nailed the box shot, Milo, freed of all the restraints, burst out of the top of the box, ripping the nails free of the frame! As they prepared the box for the next practice attempt, Wendy learned the secret of the nails*. But she never did figure out how Milo got out of the straitjacket or released the safety belt in the tight confines of the box. Or squirmed around into a squatting position with his back braced against the top of the box, in order to get enough leverage to tear the nails free. With practice, Milo improved his time to escape to about a minute and a half.

"That's a pretty neat trick, but there's really no suspense to it. Where's the danger?" Wendy was puzzled. "Isn't getting out of tight places pretty standard for a magician? If you do this instead of the bullet trick, I'll bet the audience will be disappointed."

"Well, so far you've only seen half the trick," Milo answered with a sly grin.

*Secret of the nails. There are 4 holes drilled through the top of the crate, just big enough for nails, making the volunteer's job easier. Drilled into the frame of the crate are 4 much larger holes, positioned so that they are directly below the nail holes when the top is placed on the crate. To conceal these holes from the volunteer, Milo fills them with short dowels of soft wood. The volunteer is fooled into believing he is driving nails into the wood of the frame, and the dowels are solid enough to prevent the volunteer from pulling the top off with his bare hands. (One of the assistants chooses the volunteer; they always select a guy). But the strength of Milo's legs is enough to rip the nails out of the soft wood.

"You’re right – almost every magician these days is an accomplished escape artist. So let's work on the rest of it." Milo pulled a canvas tarp off something large that had been pushed into a corner, revealing a strange apparatus. Sort of a large, low cart, supporting a goldfish bowl large enough for a person to swim in, flanked by a small crane. A black skirt concealed the area under the cart. Wendy had learned by now that magicians used black for almost everything: black curtains, black costumes, black string, black wire, as it is easier to conceal a lot of illusions against a black background.

"After I'm nailed into the crate, hook the harness on the crane to those pipes on the sides of the box. Then use the crane to drop the crate into the fishbowl," Milo instructed his assistant. He gave her a big grin. "The crate isn't watertight; it will be slowly filling with water as I try to escape. Do you think that will make it suspenseful enough?" Wendy was temporarily speechless.

"The crane is automatic. All you have to do is push the green button, and it will lift the crate, swing it over the fishbowl, and lower it to the bottom. And then, of course, I'll escape."

Wendy was reluctant. "If you have any problems getting loose, you might drown! I can't do it."

"Don't worry, I've got it covered. There's a timer on the control panel. If I'm not out in 2 and a half minutes, push the green button again and the crane will pull me out again. I can hold my breath for a little over 4 minutes, so there's plenty of time for you to unlatch the front of the box." She started to protest again, but he interrupted her. "If the crane doesn't work, stand off to the side of the bowl and whack it with this." He handed her a fire ax that he had apparently pulled from thin air.

All her objections finally overcome, Wendy agreed to help Milo practice the water escape. She nailed Milo in, hooked up the harness, and pressed the green button, then watched the timer and fretted. A minute went by, then a minute and a half. Two minutes, and no sign of Milo. At two and a half minutes, Wendy got a thoughtful expression on her face. 'I might never have a better chance to pick up 50 large!’

Three minutes, and she was sick to her stomach but did nothing. At 10 minutes, she picked up the ax, then put it down again.

'Might as well be sure' she thought to herself. 'At this point, what can it hurt to wait another 5 minutes?'

At 15 minutes, she used the ax to smash open the bowl, undid the latches, and looked anxiously inside the box. Milo was still wrapped in the straitjacket and scrunched up with his knees to his forehead, a look of terror frozen on his discolored face, as dead as a doorknob. Wendy ran from the room screaming in unfeigned horror.

A Tragic Accident

A patrol car arrived only a couple of minutes later, and the patrol officer quickly called in Homicide. Shortly afterward, the city coroner showed up, followed closely by a distraught Tom Jones. As the officer tried to calm down the hysterical Wendy, Tom helped the coroner and they carefully removed Milo from the box, set him down on a tarp, and gently straightened him into a laying position. While the coroner was conducting his preliminary examination, Detective Jack McCarty of Homicide arrived and took charge of the investigation.

"My preliminary exam shows that this man died of drowning. There are no signs of any injuries, and all the existing physical trauma is consistent with drowning," the coroner reported. "Of course, I'll do a more thorough investigation in the lab, but my professional opinion is that I won't find anything unexpected. Can I remove the body now?" McCarty agreed. The coroner and his assistant placed Milo's body on a wheeled stretcher, covered it with a dull gray blanket and wheeled it away as Tom watched sadly.

Wendy was still almost hysterical, her face reddened and covered with tears. She was just finishing giving McCarty her story. "He told me he could hold his breath for a long time," she managed to gasp out between sobs, "and I shouldn't… shouldn't worry until after 5 minutes. By that time, I was panicking and I smashed the globe with the ax. But it was… it was too late… and when I opened the box, he was… he was already dead." She wailed. "I ran out and got Mr. Caldwell, and he called the police."

McCarty was writing down everything she said. "Thanks, Miss Harvey, that's enough for now. I can see this has been really rough on you. Try and calm down, and I'll talk to you again later, to see if you remember anything else." He turned to the manager. "Mr. Caldwell, can you tell me your story, please?"

Wendy rushed to Tom and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. "Oh, Tom, this is so awful! I feel so horrid. It was a terrible accident." Tom wasn't comfortable with the embrace, and he pushed her away.

"It is terrible," he agreed. "I've known Milo since I started working for his father in 1938. He's been my partner and best friend for most of that time. I'd like to be alone right now, please." He turned and walked away from her.

"It wasn't my fault!" she wailed loudly, burying her head in her hands. "I was only doing what he told me to!" One of the cops went to her and tried to comfort her with a hug, while looking daggers at Tom.

Eventually, McCarty, Tom, Wendy and Caldwell went to police headquarters downtown, and it was around 11 PM before the paperwork was complete. By now Caldwell was extremely distraught as well; Milo had been scheduled to do two shows tonight, and both had been sold out. He was going to lose a bundle over this. But one look at Tom's face convinced him not to say anything about the canceled shows.

Finally, McCarty addressed them. "Thanks, all 3 of you, for all your help. As horribly tragic as this whole thing is, I don't see any reason to press charges here. Sounds like Milo knew the dangers, and went ahead anyway, even after Miss Harvey tried to talk him out of it. She was only following his instructions." Even Tom reluctantly nodded his head. "Mr. Jones, we've contacted a funeral home. They'll call you tomorrow to make arrangements once they pick up the body. You are all free to go."

Wendy rushed out of the building. By the time Tom reached the street, she was already getting into a cab. As it pulled away from the curb, another cab turned out of a side street and stopped in front of Tom. "Driver, follow that car!" he ordered with a chuckle. "I've always wanted to say that!"

"You got it, pal!" the driver agreed enthusiastically. The driver was Milo Minelli!

Peaches and Dreams - Again…

"Say, B, next time I get to be the dead guy, OK? Nothin' more boring than spending six seven hours with the long arm of the Law. Say, I'll bet Detective McCarty is going to be pretty annoyed when he finds out it was all a stunt."

"I'll square it with him somehow. Did everything go OK?" Milo asked.

"Anybody watching Adams and Parker lift that wax dummy," (the coroner and his assistant) "would have realized how light it was. Fortunately, our 'good little witch' was throwing one of her phony histrionic fits and distracted everyone else. She definitely bought it."

"She's worked with us for over a month. She's seen some of our stunts, and knows how much illusion is involved. I showed her almost a dozen times that I could get out of that box easily. And she still never figured I could get out of the bottom of the box, and through a trapdoor in the floor of the tank, just as easily. Good thing for us magicians that people believe what they think they see!" He chuckled. "We did a good job on the tank under the platform; not a drop of water reached the floor, and it didn’t make enough noise that she noticed." He changed the subject. "So, what's going on with Witchy Wendy? Think she's headed home?"

"I hope she's off to get her payoff, I'd like to wrap this up tonight. Guess we're not turning the case over to the FBI, huh?" Tom asked.

"You got that right, not right away. When they come after me, it gets personal." Milo's voice was grim. "Your kit is on the seat." He'd brought a suitcase with some of the more common stage magic props that he and Tom used. “We’ll call the FBI after we’ve had our own fun.”

The Payoff

Jake, Lou's usual bodyguard, was the smallest of the four very large men lounging in the office of Lou Mercer, the manager of 'Peaches and Dreams', an 'establishment' about 10 miles outside of Vegas. Mercer was expecting another visit from the mysterious 'woman in green' tonight and he had made extensive preparations. What he wasn't prepared for was the frazzled-looking blonde who pushed past the receptionist and yanked open his office door. One of the bodyguards grabbed her arm before she could take two steps into the office.

"Mr. Mercer, I'm here to claim the bounty on Milo Minelli. You owe me fifty grand!" Wendy insisted. She sounded almost frantic.

“Hold on, sister! Who the hell are you, and who's this Minelli guy? What kind of bounty?" Mercer demanded in turn.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked incredulously. "Your man Reno Wyatt told me you put out a bounty of $50 thousand on the magician Milo Minelli. Well, I took care of Minelli, and I want that bounty! I just spent 8 hours with the cops, telling them the story of his 'accidental' death."

"You're the one must be kiddin', sister. I don't even know no 'Reno'. If you're saying you did this Maloni guy, I don't wanna hear it. Everything I do is on the up and up."

Wendy screamed furiously at that. "You low down sneak! I get it now, you use other people to do your dirty work for you! Why I should…"

Mercer wasn't interested in her rant. "Bull, shut 'er up and t'row 'out!"

"I'll get you for this!" she screeched as the large man holding her arm jerked her closer and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Shut yur yap, blondie!" Bull growled in Wendy's ear. He lifted her a few inches off the floor and squeezed her so tightly she had trouble breathing. Her screeches subsided into gasps and burbles. He set her down. "You can walk or I'll drag ya by yer hair."

She staggered as he pushed her out of the office, through a short hall and into the lobby. There were two men in the lobby, nattily dressed in full stage magician regalia of black tux and tie, top hats and long cloaks, talking to the receptionist.

Wendy instantly recognized the World’s Greatest and Second Greatest Magicians (depending on the week) and screamed again: "You're DEAD! I killed you!" as she fainted dead away from shock and horror.

"Hey, you'se two, beat it. Weez closed!" Bull hollered threateningly, going for his gun. Nobody noticed the breeze that blew through the room. But by the time Bull had his gun in hand, things had started hoppin’!

Frame by Frame

As Zing raced towards Peaches and Dreams, she was considering another of the difficulties of putting the world around her into 'slow time'. 'It's tough figuring out what's happening around me,' she mused. 'Sort of like trying to figure out the plot of a silent movie by looking at a single frame. On the other hand, a single frame only shows a single scene from a single angle. I can do much better than that!' She raced back and forth through the building, vibrating through the walls, paying careful attention to much of what she saw.

'I wonder what Minelli and Jones are doing here? And that chick on the floor looks like one of their stage hands.' She mused, then zoomed into the next room. 'I can't believe people can twist in positions like that! And look at that guy standing on his hands! ' she was amazed at what was going on in one of the private rooms. Another wall.

Mercer was behind his desk, three other men were scattered around his office, and Bull was out in the lobby. 'Mercer can’t be dumb enough to believe that a couple of extra goons can stop me, or even slow me down. Bound to be some kind of trap. Why am I not surprised?' And she also noticed, 'He doesn't have my payoff. What am I going to do about that?' An instant later, passing through another room, she was momentarily distracted. 'Wow, does that guy really enjoy wearing a saddle like that? What a nasty looking whip she's holding! And HE’S paying HER?!'

She turned her attention back to the problem at hand. Obviously Mercer and whoever he worked for had decided not to pay her protection money. What was she going to do to them in return? Could she let Tom and Milo walk into the ambush that was meant for her? What did the two of them think they were going to accomplish here anyway?

‘They’ve been investigating the marked cards, and someone tried to kill Milo last night. Bet the two are related, and they’ve figured it out,’ she realized. ‘They might not know what they’re getting into. Might as well have a little fun of my own, and add a bit of confusion!’

A Bit of Fun

She allowed the outside world to speed up and suddenly popped into existence in Mercer’s office. “Hey, fellows – I don’t see my cash.”

She was between the boys and the outside wall, and it was a good thing. Mercer and the gangsters didn’t respond, they just opened up without any warning whatever, and a wave of bullets surged through the space where she was standing – and passed through her as if she were a ghost! The gunfire quickly died out, and in the relative silence, she taunted them. “You didn’t learn anything from last night, did you? Well, remember, I warned you!”

Mercer had just pushed a button on his desk and she felt a tingle of electricity in her feet. The rug was electrified, with enough juice to instantly kill anyone standing on it. “Sorry, boys – too bad for you that electricity doesn’t even tickle. Are you going to stop fooling around and pay up? I’m starting to get a little cross!”

Mercer wasn’t done yet. Another button, and the floor under her opened up, dropping Zing and the electrified carpet into a tub of water, and a piece of the ceiling fell on top of her. Except, she wasn’t there, and the weight crashing from the ceiling smashed into the tub, shattering it as the trapdoor snapped shut again.

She appeared off to one side, laughing. “Well, I DID warn you.” Three very large men lunged at her, but before any of them could reach her, she disappeared again.

She passed through the various rooms again, this time looking for particular items – specifically, any bottles of oils, lotions or creams, or anything else that was slippery. She was gratified but not surprised when she found a LOT of said bottles… She gathered every bottle of slippery stuff she could find and took them back to the room where the criminals were frozen in mid-lunge, and gently placed each bottle on the floor. As she placed each bottle, the Queen of Quick flicked it gently with her thumb and forefinger. There was no immediate reaction in slow time, but she knew that in normal time, the bottles would explode as they were driven into the floor by the gentle force of her finger flicks at her current speed.

As she was working, a thought occurred to her. ‘I was going to stick around and watch the fun, but if Milo is here, it means that pretty soon the casinos are going to stop using marked cards. I hope I can find a high stakes poker game in a hurry!’

Even though the Queen of Quick was in a hurry, she allowed time around her to speed up until she could barely see the second hand on the wall clock quiver as it oh-so-slowly plugged onward to the next second, then very gently tapped the seat of Mercer’s swiveling desk chair.

‘This is really going to be a fun scene! I could stick around and watch it play out for a few minutes – but that’s enough time for me to win a lot of money in a hand of poker. Poker… pandemonium… pandemonium… poker… what a tough choice! Pandemonium… poker…” Of course, poker won, but, ‘One more thing before I go!’ she chuckled to herself. A quick stop in the lobby and she was off, racing back to the casinos!

Pandemonium

The two magicians were astonished to hear an explosion of gunfire not far from the lobby. Milo was even more astonished when he felt a sharp tug on his cape, and a bouquet of fresh flowers appeared in his hand! Followed less than a second later by more explosions as the bottles of slippery stuff exploded and coated everything in the office. And just as Lee had hoped, pandemonium broke out in the Peaches and Dreams Inn!

Almost instantly, the staff and patrons poured out of their rooms until the halls resembled a moving riot. Screaming customers, hosts, and hostesses erupted from the rooms, all fighting get away from the gunfire and out of the building. A glut of bodies clothed in everything from costumes to nothing surged down the corridor toward the back entrance, as far away from the gunshots and explosions as possible, most of them screaming or shouting in fear or anger. There were some minor injuries as people fought to be first outside, but for the most part, this group of folks escaped uninjured.

The lobby was slightly more sedate. The receptionist pressed a button under her desktop to alert security (who were the ones doing the shooting!), then jumped to her feet and kicked off her very high heels as ran she screaming for the front door. Bull froze for an instant as he realized that Milo and Tom were suddenly not very important, then spun around to plunge back into office. And the two magicians, long used to dealing with the unexpected, had been moving purposefully even before the sound of the gunshots died away.

The office was a madhouse. The three attackers crashed to the floor and slid uncontrollably. Guns flew across the room as their owners scrabbled unsuccessfully to stop from sliding. One smashed into the leg of the desk and hurt his shoulder badly, and another slammed into the wall head-first and then his buddy smashed into him, leaving the unfortunate front-slider with a concussion and the other dazed. Mercer’s chair began spinning under him at propeller speeds, throwing him off, and he crashed into the heavy safe in the corner of the room and slid to the floor, barely conscious. And all four of them were blasted by plastic fragments from the exploding bottles, adding blood to the slippery mess. No one was killed, but they all required medical attention.

Tom pointed his wand at Bull and pressed a concealed button, firing a tiny dart trailing a wire so thin it was almost invisible. The dart touched the criminal’s neck and a powerful capacitor dumped a high voltage low current charge into him, vaporizing the wire in a brilliant flash at the same time that it froze Bull dead in his tracks. On a lighted stage in a dark theater, the effect looked like he was firing lightning.

Milo set the bouquet down on the reception desk as he raced past it; he was going to investigate that particular mystery later! Tom stopped moving as he reached the office door, and by the time Milo reached him, he was laughing heartily. “Check this out, B – someone’s done the heavy lifting for us. Nothin’ for us to do but clean up the mess!”

“I’ll just make sure they won’t even try to give us any trouble, Tom.” Milo flicked his wrists in a well-practiced gesture, and several small glass balls, painted flat back, smashed into the floor near each of the floundering bad guys. They broke open when they hit the floor, and the chemicals inside released and mixed in endothermic reactions, freezing the floor and pinning the occupants in solidified lotion.

“OK, NOW we can call the FBI!” Milo announced with satisfaction. “And deal with the police, as well. But I have NO idea what we’re going to tell them.”

Epilogue 1

The FBI and the Vegas Police detained Tom and Milo for several hours, getting the story straight. As they were telling the 17th questioner the entire story for the 39th time, Murder Detective Jack McCarty showed up, and as Tom had predicted, he was hot!

“Minelli, do you have ANY fugging idea how much paperwork I’m going to fill out now that you ain’t dead?” he snarled as he stomped up to them. “Wasted the whole blasted day already and now I’m gonna waste another one! I oughta run you in for obstructin’ justice or interferin’ with a police officer doing his duty! And you, Jones – you really oughta know better, too.”

“Hey! I’m just an innocent bystander, Jack!” Tom protested weakly. “When the Big M here goes off on another one of his schemes, he just drags along everyone around him. All we can do is duck and hope for the best.”

“You should talk, Mr. Two. What about that time in South Bend? I nearly got my ass shot off!”

Tom was about to respond indignantly when Jack broke in. “Look, I’m sure your little domestic disputes are fascinating, but not now, huh?” Both magicians turned back to the cop. “We just went from an accidental death to an open and shut attempted murder case with a witness to the confession, so I’ll let you two off this time. But any more faked deaths, and you’re in the slammer while I read every law book in Vegas for anything and everything I can throw at you. And don’t you worry – I’ll make sure it sticks!” His voice was harsh, but the two magicians were sure there was a hint of humor behind the threat. Then in a milder tone: “Tell you, though, you can get back on my good side by telling me how you figured things out.”

“When we realized someone had shot at us, we both knew right away it had to be Wendy. After that, it was a matter of figuring out her stunt, and that’s something we’re very good at,” Tom spoke up first. “If someone else has a trick we don’t, we figure it out and then how to make it different – and better.”

“Outside of the act, only two people ever touch those pistols,” Milo continued. “So, unless someone outside our little team got the safe combination, which I really doubt, one of those two must have put real bullets into one of the guns. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me who had loaded live rounds so that left… Wendy the Witch. She loaded one of the spare pistols, then she swapped it for the other when she was bringing them out to us. It didn’t take too long to figure out the rest of it after we had that much.”

“You know that we never actually fire any bullets in the show, right? Way too much risk of liability – or murder!” Tom continued the explanation. “And there are a lot of other safes built in as well. Milo’s commands are perfectly timed so that when we pull the triggers, backstage, our stagehand Harry pushes a button that sets off firecrackers, and some of them blow holes in the targets. If one of the guns is loaded, we’ll catch that when 4 holes appear in the target instead of 3. And we spin the cylinders so nobody can put in just one bullet, in the third chamber, and be sure of firing exactly two rounds of blanks. But Wendy figured out a flaw in the system.”

“Got it!” Jack announced with satisfaction. “She only pretended to spin the cylinder.”

Tom continued, a bit apologetically. “You don’t have all the facts yet - that’s not _quite_ it. Making sure everyone sees us spin the cylinder is a necessary part of the stunt, Jack. At that point in time, Milo’s lead-in has got every eye in the theater, including mine and his own, focused on those cylinders. B and I would have noticed if Wendy hadn’t spun her gun, even if nobody else in the theater did.”

“She did spin the cylinder,” Milo agreed. “But she was sure that wherever the cylinder ended up, there would be a live bullet in the chamber.”

Jack was a very good detective when he had all the facts. “She must have loaded all the chambers. Then deliberately missed the target with the first two shots.”

Milo shook his head. “Coulda been. That was our first thought, too. But we searched all over last night and didn’t find any other bullets. And I think I would have noticed if she’d deliberately aimed off-target.”

Jack thought for a moment. “Ah… you said you saw her spin the cylinder – but you didn’t say you saw her pull the trigger during the first two rounds.”

“Bingo! We don’t actually KNOW she didn’t – but what else could it be?” Tom agreed approvingly. “So, we went and checked out the safe, and yes indeed – one of the guns was still loaded with 5 live rounds.” His expression changed, almost to admiration. “But what proved it to us was that one of our backup guns was loaded with blanks, and 3 cylinders had been discharged. She must have planned to pick up the guns, head back stage, and swap them around in the confusion after everyone realized that Milo was dead.”

“But you didn’t die,” Jack looked at Milo and smiled. “You weren’t even shot. Either she decided not to shoot you and missed deliberately, or she was a terrible shot. She must have been very confused, and more than a little panicked.”

“But she managed, somehow, to complete the stunt” Tom nodded in agreement. “She took back the pistols, locked them in the box, and put them into the safe. But she didn’t have time to swap the guns – she was due back on stage for final bows. And afterwards, she never got a chance. She must have thought she’d have some chance to get at the safe when she was working with Big M today.”

Milo presented the last episode of the story. “Instead, when I gave her the chance to ‘kill’ me and collect the reward…” Tom frowned at him. “OK, Mr. Two, when WE gave her the chance, she took it. Probably expected to use the money and run away before someone found the loaded gun.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll confess, guys, and give us the whole story. After shooting and drowning Milo, and seeing him alive after both, she’s pretty convinced that he’s a ghost,” Jack chuckled. “Thanks for giving me a story I can tell forever; you’re forgiven. But don’t do it again! Or at least tell me first.” He smiled in satisfaction.

“Looks like all the details are wrapped up!”

“Looks like,” Milo agreed, though he didn’t really agree that the case was closed. Somehow, he’d been given a bouquet of his own flowers, and that same someone, probably, had booby trapped the ambushers and pretty much wrapped up Mercer’s end of the gang. His own investigation wasn’t quite finished.

Epilogue 2

It turned out that there had been a large and well-financed operation behind the card marking scheme, and when Mercer failed to report to his contact at the scheduled time just after midnight, a well-rehearsed withdrawal took place. Ten almost anonymous casino regulars didn’t show up the next day, but no one noticed. Five Unicycle employees failed to report to work, and that did get noticed - the massive FBI investigation was now directed toward locating these missing employees and their destination. There was some evidence that the plot was related to one of the growing drug operations in Latin America, and the CIA was eager to get involved as well. Everyone in the know in law enforcement hoped the whole incident was over, though, as nobody fancied a war between the Las Vegas mob and a Latin American drug lord!

The exact mechanism for marking the cards involved adding an ultra-violet fluorescent compound to the ink used in the pattern on the backs of the cards, and somehow as the front of the cards were printed, the printing process activated the compound in the patterns on the backs. The FBI kept the process secret until Unicycle was able to develop a new security tactic to neutralize that process.

The Council of Casino Owners wasn’t happy that Tom and Milo went to the FBI first, but they didn’t have to pay their hired agents, and the unnatural daily $100,000 losses stopped instantly. There weren’t enough decks of safe playing cards in storage in Vegas to instantly replace all the Unicycle cards in place, so a number of casinos didn’t totally phase out the marked cards for a couple of days, but Zing’s own personal withdrawals weren’t statistically significant enough to raise their alarms. So they got most of what they wanted for free. But it wasn’t likely that Minelli and Jones would ever get another contract with the Lords of Vegas. Not that this bothered the magician/detectives, though!

Epilogue 3

Even though she was fully aware of who he was, Lee didn’t acknowledge the new poker player who slipped into the seat next to her, ignoring him until he spoke.

“Good evening, Miss Han. You are even more stunning than usual tonight, and I see you are doing well at the table, too.” It was Milo Minelli, and she knew that he had been observing her from a distance for about half an hour. And she knew that he knew, but both acted as if neither knew.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Minelli,” she replied easily. She wasn’t worried by his observations – this casino had phased out Unicycle cards late yesterday, and she was playing honestly – she’d found that using slow time took away any challenge the game offered. She still won regularly in most games, but she was still learning to read the top players. “You’re looking pretty dapper tonight yourself. I hope you’re prepared to lose that beautiful shirt!”

“Funny, I was going to say the same to you.” This drew a chuckle from the other players, and with the obligatory humorous distraction out of the way, they all returned to serious poker.

“Lou,” Milo read the dealer’s name tag, “the last time I was here, you guys were using a different brand of cards. What’s up with that?”

“I heard they got a really good deal from the card company,” Lou replied enthusiastically. “Really are nicer cards, too! Easier to shuffle and they don’t wear out as fast.” He lowered his voice in an attempt to keep his next words confidential. “You know, some of us dealers have been bitchin’ about those old cards for years. Looks like they finally listened to us! Being in a union is finally paying off!” He was smiling broadly as he said that.

‘Of course, nobody in management would EVER let out that so many casinos had been using marked cards for months! That would blow the hell out of tourism here; Vegas would be a ghost town for years! Looks they were able to find a good spin, too.’ Milo wasn’t surprised at the answer, but his question had been designed so that he could study Lee’s reaction.

“What do you think, Miss Han? We’ve been using the new cards in my show, and Tom and I find them much more satisfactory in our card tricks. You should come to another show – I’ll be Number One for a week again starting tomorrow. We’ve got some new stunts that will baffle and amaze you!”

“Playing cards are pretty much just all cards to me,” she replied as she picked up the next hand. The chit-chat ceased until the pot was being swept from the table and the cards gathered, when she spoke again. “Maybe I will, if you’ve new tricks. I enjoy a good puzzle. Took me a while to figure out how you did the old ones.”

“I’m still figuring out some of yours,” he smiled mysteriously.

That was the last of the banter for a while as they concentrated on the serious business of playing poker. Milo must have been a distraction – Miss Han began losing a little more than she won. Finally she lost a hand she’d actually expected to win, and gathered her chips.

“That’s all for me for tonight. Thanks for the game, all. G’night.” She wasn’t surprised when Milo stood up at the same time; she’d rather expected it.

“It seems I was your bad luck charm tonight, Miss Han. I feel bad – can I buy you dinner to make up for it?”

“Always the charmer, Mr. Minelli – I like that about you. But I have to beg off, as I have other plans.” His face fell and she sensed that his forlorn look was sincere. She almost laughed – he reminded her of a little boy who’d just lost his favorite toy, but she managed a coy smile instead.

“Well, then, do you have time for a drink, really quick? It would make me feel so much better.”

This time, she did chuckle. “You certainly are persistent, Mr. Minelli.”

He smiled warmly. “It’s part of my charm. And, it helps when I’m learning a new stunt for the show. But please, I prefer Milo. When you call me Mr. Minelli, I always want to look around to see who you are talking to.” He winked at her. “Now, about that drink…”

‘What could a drink hurt? It’s not like I really have other plans, anyway – I was just going to find another poker game. Actually thought I’d try Reno tonight, for a change. Vegas is getting boring.’ Aloud, she responded, “I think I have time for that Milo. And please, call me Lee.”

He offered his arm, she accepted, and as they swept off toward the lounge she asked him curiously, “You must lead an exciting life, eh? One day I read you’re dead in a tragic accident, and the next you’re alive again and your stage assistant is being arrested for attempted murder. What the heck is going on?”

“You probably don’t know, Lee, that along with being magicians, Tom and I do some freelance private detective work – we don’t tell many people.” He was watching her as closely as he could without turning to stare at her, and as far as he could tell, she didn’t react to that. ‘She DOES have a very good poker face,’ he thought. “That ‘returning from the dead’ stunt helped me prove that Wendy was attempting to murder me.”

She actually hadn’t known that about Wendy, and she wasn’t pleased to hear it. “You must be a $#!*ty boss if your employees want to kill you.” She paused to survey the lounge landscape. “Why don’t we take that table over there,” she pointed to a table well away from the door and close to a wall.

“I don’t think I’m that bad,” he laughed as they sat. “Anyway, the two of us had been hired to investigate a drug ring. They put a hit on me, and she decided to claim the reward. After she failed the first time – during the show you came to see, in fact – I decided to give her a second chance, and then follow her to see who she thought would pay her.”

“That was very clever. So you caught her – did you get the guy who put the hit out?”

“Now, THAT’s an interesting story. Did you hear the story about the drug bust at the Peaches and Dreams Inn? We followed her there and found what we were looking for. Might have taken us a lot longer if it weren’t for her. And the police kept our names out of that story; they were happy to take credit for the bust.”

‘It really is an interesting story, and most of it is actually true,’ he thought. ‘Even if it is the cover story everyone agreed on. But I’m sure she knows as much of the real story as I do.’

“The casino owners aren’t comfortable having us around any longer. They’re afraid some member of that ring might come after us for revenge, and one of their precious patrons will get injured. We’ve got a lot of offers – been thinking we’ll be doing Chicago next.”

That alarmed her. ‘Chicago? Say, I’ve got Illinois plates on my car. What does Milo know about me? Could he suspect?’ The waiter hadn’t shown up at their table yet. “Say, Milo, can I have that drink some other time? I’ve got a date tonight, and I just saw him through the door. He probably wouldn’t be too happy to see me sitting with another guy. Especially a good-looking guy like you.”

“I guess, OK,” he agreed reluctantly. “When’s good for you?”

She stood. “How about tomorrow, same time? You’ll find me at a table; I’ll keep my dance card open.”

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.” He stood and kissed her hand before she could step away, and then sat back down to wait for the waiter.

Epilogue 4 (the last)

As soon as she was out of sight of the lounge, Lee raced back to the Parthenon and stopped into the 24-hour bank to talk to the manager. “Mr. Caldwell, I’ve finally had enough of Vegas so I’ll be moving on. I’d like to withdraw my funds, but I won’t feel safe carrying that much cash around. Once I get home and get to my bank, can you arrange a wire transfer?”

“Yes, Miss Han, of course, Miss Han, is there anything else the bank or I can do for you?” He practically fell over himself at the chance to help her. “Just call when you’re ready, and ask for me, and I’ll take care of everything!”

She thanked him and then headed to her room to pack. ‘Why, when I start to like a guy, does he always turn out to be one of the good guys?’ she thought sadly. ‘Oh, well, I’ll get over him – I always do.’ She ruffled through her closet, trying to decide exactly how much of her beautiful, stylish wardrobe she could bear to leave behind. When she asked the question that way, the answer was obvious. ‘Of course, I can’t leave ANY of it!” She laughed out loud – that was ONE load off her shoulders!”

She called the desk and asked to talk to the hotel manager. “I had a wonderful vacation, Mr. Roth, and I will be sure to stay at the Pantheon when I return next year. But I have an itsy bitsy favor to ask.”

Of COURSE he would do her a favor. Miss Han had been a great guest – she spent lavishly in the hotel, hadn’t won a lot at the hotel casino (she did most of her gambling in other casinos) and been one of the most generous tippers the hotel had ever had. He hoped she would return and stay at the Pantheon again. He was a little apprehensive about what she might ask, and was relieved when her request turned out to be fairly routine.

“Yes, Miss Han, of course Miss Han, we would be happy to put your wardrobe in storage, and arrange for shipping to your next destination. We’ll require a large deposit and you’ll have to sign some paperwork, and we are pleased to provide you with this service. Please stop at my office before you depart; I’ll have the paperwork ready for your signature. Is there anything else the hotel or I can do for you? Please come back soon and often!”

And that was that. Once more, she was off, still heading west. As she walked out of her room, she was humming the popular Tony Bennet song, “I Left My Heart (in San Francisco)”.