"Merritt McKinney," The announcer's voice booms across the stadium-like building. "Daniel Atlas, Henley Reeves."
Here it comes, "Jack Wilder." Aw, yes.
"Arthur Tressler and the MGM Grand proudly present the Four Horsemen."
The screens around the room display our faces and our logo, the three rectangles with the connected line. The four of us are dressed in all black; Daniel and Merritt are in suits; Henley's wearing a suit jacket and a skirt. Me, I'm in a collared dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, suspenders, and jeans; all black. I don't wear tuxes.
We stand on a circular stage in the center of the auditorium. Because it's circular, we all have to keep walking around it to engage the entire crowd. The audience surrounds it, applauding us, cheering us on.
Our beginning acts were nothing compared to what we have planned for the finale. For our first act, I helped Henley do a magic stunt with a sword. At first, it looked as though I had impaled her through the chest with the sword and she seemed dead for a moment, but a second later she pulled it out with a smile. Second act was a few clever card tricks from Daniel. Third act was Merritt hypnotizing a few audience members to believe they were in the Philharmonic Orchestra.
Now, we're nearing the end of the show. I'm getting used to the huge crowd and I'm starting to enjoy it. I can't stop smiling.
"Thank you," Merritt says, "Tonight we would like to try something that will, well, set us a bit apart."
Henley takes over, "For our final trick, we're going to do something never before seen on a Las Vegas stage."
"Or any stage, for that matter," I say.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Daniel says, coming to center stage. "Tonight…we are going to rob a bank." The crowd goes wild, and the noise gets deafening. "That's a lot of excitement for a crime." Henley encourages the crowd to get louder. I give Merritt a high-five. People start the slow clap.
"Now, please, please, settle down," Daniel says, waving his hands down. "Now, who here has a bank they would like us to rob?"
I laugh as half the room raises their hands.
"Oh, okay, that's a lot of people with a vendetta. So we'll choose one at random then." The crowd laughs. "My associates will make sure it's random. Right?"
The three of us take out bowls filled with numbered ping pong balls and go to different sides of the stage. I'm first; I hold my bowl down to the guy in front of me. He had the black hair, the rings, the jewels, and the shirt showing too much chest-hair.
"Elvis, help me out, bud." I mimic Elvis Presley's baritone voice and say, "Thank you very much," after he hands me a ball.
"In Jack's bowl are ping pong balls with section numbers. Jack, could you hand me a section number."
I throw the ball I was palming to the middle of the stage where it bounces once and Daniel catches it. "Thank you," He looks at it. "We are looking at Section B. Where is Section B?" Section B stands up and cheers. "Okay. There. It's going to be one of you guys, get ready."
Merritt has a girl in front of him choose a ball for the row number and tosses the ball. Daniel catches it, announcing row number five. Then Henley throws him a seat number.
"Oh, lucky number thirteen. B-5-13. Where are you? Sir, please, stand up," The spotlight turns on over to the seat and a dark-haired man in a white jacket stands up; it's Etienne Forcier. Well, I guess Merritt's hypnotism and reinforcements did the trick. He took his vacation to Las Vegas.
"There you are. Hi. Could you just confirm for me that this is, in fact, your seat? B-5-13?" Daniel holds up the balls in one hand for the camera and it's displayed on the screens.
Etienne Forcier turns around to check his seat and back. "Yes," he says.
"Okay, wonderful," Daniel chucks the balls away from him. "Now, could you please tell us your name and the name of your bank?"
"Well, my name is Etienne Forcier and my bank; it's Credit Republicain de Paris," Etienne replies, his French accent now obvious, but still understandable.
"French. Okay," Daniel replies. "Ah, we were hoping for something a little more local, a kind of mom-and-pop credit union with no security, but that's fine. A promise is a promise. Could you please come up to the stage? And we'll rob your bank."
I make my way to meet Etienne and lead him to the stage, a job for the assistant. Ugh. I'm glad that there's no flash of recognition in his face when he meets me.
"And while he does that," Daniel continues. "There is someone here tonight without whom we would just be four magicians working the circuit, trying to get… Well, actually, trying to get here. You probably know this man, if not from one of the many, many companies he puts his name on. He is our friend. He is our benefactor. Mr. Arthur Tressler." At that, Daniel gestures towards the crowd and a spotlight shines on Art, the white-haired British businessman, as he stands, accepting the applause. He waves.
"The only man here with the Queen's cell phone number," Merritt states.
I take Etienne's left arm, leading him up the steps and onto the center stage. Man, this guy is rich. Full white ensemble, completed with a fancy blue dress shirt and light brown shoes to match.
"Actually, please, stay standing, Art. I want to say that when we came to Mr. Tressler, we promised that, as a unit, we could become the biggest name in magic," Daniel says.
Henley takes over with, "So we wanted to say thank you and, by the way, Art, you notice on the sign out front, we made sure we put your name on top."
"If you turn out to be as good as you think you are, dear girl, that won't be necessary much longer," Art says with a smile and a nod before taking his seat.
I hand off Etienne to Merritt, who meets us center stage, and I run to grab a prop.
"We haven't done our closer yet. Why don't you watch it and then you can decide for yourself. Ladies and gentlemen, Arthur Tressler."
"Thank you. And, of course, once again, the Cardinal of Clairvoyance," Daniel waves his arm to center stage, where Merritt now stands with Etienne. "Merritt McKinney."
I reach the stage with the prop and bring it to the middle of the stage.
"Etienne," Merritt says. "What Jack is bringing to the stage now, is what we in the magic world call a teleportation helmet." I smirk, hold it high, and walk a circle around them, showing it off. The "teleportation helmet" is basically a bunch of metal wires and circular metal lights and buttons melded together. Whatever works, I guess. "You will need to wear this, as it will allow you to literally fold through space and time to your bank in the…"
"Eighth?" Merritt guesses. Etienne shakes his head. "Ninth arrondissement," Merritt decides. Etienne nods.
Merritt continues, "Now, once you are there, we will be able to speak with you through this helmet."
I settle the "helmet" onto Etienne's head.
"Now if…," Merritt stops as I adjust it, fixing Etienne's collar while adjusting the attached microphone. "Oh my god, that's beautiful. It has the added attraction of being very stylish. It's about time the French learned from America on that subject. Is that a beautiful piece of headgear?" I flip the lights on and step back. Masterpiece complete; I throw my arms out, gesturing toward it. Voila! (I guess I do know more French than I thought.)
The audience applauds and all Etienne can say is "Thank you… thank you…"
"Mais oui, mais oui," Merritt replies. Daniel and Henleymake their way center stage.
"Now, before you go anywhere, could you please, pick a card, any card," Daniel says, fanning out a deck. Etienne reaches out, but Daniel pulls it back.
"Not that card." Daniel smiles and holds it back out, "No, that's an old American joke. You can take that one." Etienne takes it.
"Show it to your friends in Section B there, but not to us," Daniel says. Etienne raises it up, showing it to the audience. "Okay, great. If you could just sign your name there… in English, if possible." The audience laughs as Etienne signs his name in the middle of the card and puts it in his jacket pocket.
"And now," Henley announces, "For one tiny detail." She reaches and pulls fabric out of seemingly nowhere and it swirls around the very middle of the stage and into the ceiling, revealing a mechanical contraption. The audience gets excited with cheers and hollers.
The machine isn't really anything; it's for show, like the helmet. It looks like a giant press. There's a platform for him to stand on and the other maybe seven feet up. The whole thing could easily be ten feet tall.
Merritt says, "Now, Etienne, let's step into this cockamamie contraption." He leads him onto the platform. "And I'll step off of it. Bonne chance." Daniel and I step forward and lower the translucent screen down from the top to the bottom. Merritt continues, "It's 11:50 pm here in Vegas; that's 8:50 am in Paris. You bank opens in less than ten minutes."
The machine powers up and the four of us step back.
"One," Merritt says.
"Two," I say.
"Three," Henley says, as she presses a giant button on a remote connected to the machine. The two platforms forcefully clash together loudly with Etienne inside; everyone gasps. The lights flicker off and back on.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that, was it?" Merritt asks, looking around. "I liked that little French guy. Where'd he go?"
I look around. I know we're acting, but it still scared me.
The screens around the room light up. There's a faint static noise as the camera on the helmet gives us an image of Etienne's face. Behind him, you can see a vault door.
"Wait, there he is," Daniel sighs, pointing to the screen. The audience is relieved and applauds. "This is Daniel Atlas. Can you hear me? Etienne? Are you okay?"
"Yes," Etienne replies as the camera redirects toward the stack of Euros.
Even though we can clearly see it, Daniel asks, "What do you see in there?"
"Money," He says. "Is this real?"
Yes, it actually is. Under the stage is a vault set that looks just like the guy's bank. The entire thing is a blinding clean white and has shiny silver deposit boxes covering the walls. In the vault set, we put all of the real money we got from the armored truck. It's on a crate in the middle of the room and Etienne is staring at it in amazement. He picks up a few bills and fans them out.
"Yes. Looks like three million or so Euros' worth," Daniel answers. "Okay, now, here's what we're going to need you to do. I want you to take the card that you signed out of your pocket." He does. "And I want you to take the ticket stub from tonight's show and I want you to put it right there in the middle of the money." He drops the two pieces of paper in between the stacks.
"Now, on the side of your helmet you should feel a button. Don't press it just yet. That button activates an air duct that connects Paris to Las Vegas. Okay, good, now you can press it." Etienne does and the sound of wind starts to rise up.
"All right, now, Etienne, hold on tight. You might feel a bit of a vacuum," I say, jokingly.
The money in the vault starts to blow around and swirl towards the vent in the ceiling. Etienne chuckles as money flies past him. With each passing second, the suction gets stronger and stronger until all of it is gone.
A rumbling noise slowly gets louder in the auditorium where we are. Suddenly, the real Euros are fluttering down like leaves from the ceiling. The crowd goes nuts. I'm instantly relieved that it worked, I let out a nervous laugh I was holding in.
"Thank you, Etienne," Daniel yells to be heard over the roar of the crowd. "Thank you, everyone!"
In unison, we all say, "We are the Four Horsemen. Good night!" We all join hands and take our bows.
After the show, Merritt let Etienne out, but still let him believe it was real magic (as in hypnotism terms). We found out that our flash paper did go off in the bank in Paris from the news. It worked. Now we deal with the police.