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Cat In A Leopard Spot

The Cloaked Conjuror lifted his arms and dropped them to indicate helpless regret. The mechanical voice forced him to rely on gesture rather than speech even in private. He resembled a mute Phantom of the Opera.

Max stopped being envious, if he ever had been.

The magician sat at his dressing table, where Max had warmed the seat only moments before. He didn’t remove his mask.

“I didn’t know how to get in touch with you.” Even the mechanical voice sounded weary. “I figured if I mentioned your name you might contact me. But not onstage in the middle of my act! My bodyguards are all over that backstage. Man, you are crazy.”

“No. I just know that the safest place to be when a man is under constant guard is right next to him. Even if they had noticed my brief visit, they weren’t about to shoot until they knew which man in black was who.”

The Cloaked Conjuror shook his head. “Whatever you are, you’re the only one who tumbled to the fact that my assistant was killed at the TitaniCon weekend. I’ve got a new problem, but it might be from an old source.”

Max pulled a chair closer to the mirror and sat beside the magician. “The Synth?”

“Maybe. I’ve been working with a new cat. Going to reveal the old cat into woman trick. Add a little femme pheromones to the act, you know? Somebody’s swiped the animal.”

“Big cat? Leopard, I suppose?”

The leopard-spotted mask nodded. “Cost a bundle. And a fine, mature animal. Worth…a bundle.”

“You blew my cover over a cat-napping?”

“A note was left, signed ‘the Synth.’”

“You’ve contacted the police?”

“Would you?”

“No. What’s the ransom?”

“The note didn’t mention a ransom.”

“Any calls?”

“Not for money. Not about the leopard.”

Max pondered the sense of announcing you’re the kidnapper without demanding ransom. “Do you think they’ll ask for money after you sweat a little, or do they really want the animal? Or is this a nuisance attack? Harassment.”

“I don’t know. I do know my security force is pretty teed off about someone breaching the perimeter and taking the cat. Either way, it’s a message.”

Max nodded again. “A major message. So the leopard was taken from your residence. I suppose you’re not about to share the location of that with me.”

“Not unless you convince me that you absolutely need it.”

“It’s near Las Vegas, though?”

“Yeah. Near enough.”

“Obviously, there are several messages here: one, they know where you are. Two, you aren’t as secure as you think. Three, they know what you’re planning for the act. Four, they can extort your money from you, or maybe they think they deserve it and you don’t, since you’re an antimagician. So why do you think I can do anything for you? Especially after you’ve irritated the hell out of me.”

The Cloaked Conjuror kept silent for a good minute, his masked face as still as a corpse’s. “I’ve seen tapes of your show. You’re the real thing. Man, you nearly gave me a heart attack when you showed up backstage. See, no one’s supposed to be able to do that. I figure if anyone can go up against the Synth, you can. I’ll pay you whatever you need to get the cat back and find out the who, what, and why behind this whole thing.”

Max stood, shoved his chair under the dressing table, glanced at the empty mask he had abandoned on the tabletop.

“I may need to produce money for the cat, and I may need that in advance.”

“Just ask.”

“Who was the woman?”

“What woman?”

“The woman you were going to change into a cat, and vice versa. One of your lissome assistants in the leopard catsuits?”

“No. I found someone a little more exotic, but she’s out of the picture for now. She wasn’t going to join the act until after the cat was trained.”

“How exotic?”

“Hot.”

“Like that’s a rarity in Las Vegas?”

The Cloaked Conjuror chuckled. “She does her own act, but it’s small-time. You may have heard of her. Shangri-La.”

“Shangri-La. I guess she’s used to working with a cat, or a house cat anyway. What is its name?”