This show is my last show. Ever. Sadly, it's only my second. So it has to be awesome.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the amplified voice announces over the room. "The Savoy management welcomes you to tonight's special performance, The Four Horsemen, Act Two. Unlike traditional performances, The Four Horsemen encourage you to film, call your friends, upload, stream, and tweet the show freely. Thank you. The show will begin in a few minutes."
The audience is the most important thing tonight. I look out into the crowd from backstage, where it's too dark for them to see. Not only are there VIPs, there are cheated people about to get justice. The VIPs include the Tresslers, Art and Jasmine, Thaddeus Bradley and his assistant, FBI agent Dylan Rhodes, and Interpol agent Alma Dray. Agent Rhodes apparently was the man who refused to interview me at the headquarters. That makes Alma Dray the pretty blond seated next to him.
Someone nudges me from the side; it's a crewman. He tells me that Daniel Atlas wants me to wear a tracking bracelet. I sigh and put it on, but he'll hear about it later.
The stage in New Orleans is a ton different than the Las Vegas one. It's made of black geometric shapes, four rectangles jutting out from a circle and into the audience. On the wall at the back of the stage, our symbol shines.
"Arthur Tressler presents…" The stage dramatically lights up with each name announced. Each of us stands on a different rectangle. "Jack Wilder, Henley Reeves, Merritt McKinney, and Daniel Atlas. The Four Horsemen." Applause and cheers echo throughout the room.
For the attire tonight, they actually got me into a suit. They told me that I had to match the other guys. I agreed, but only if I could wear a vest under the jacket. So, we all wore black suits with white shirts.
"Thank you. Before we begin, we'd like to single out two people in particular," Danny gestures towards the balcony. "A man and a woman to whom we'd like to dedicate tonight's performance."
"FBI Agent Dylan Rhodes," Henley announces. "And the lovely, if somewhat inexperienced, Interpol Agent Alma Dray, everyone." The crowd starts to boo as a spotlight is shown on them.
"Yeah," I look up to the balcony seats, but it's hard to see past the spotlights. "Agent Rhodes has personally vowed to quote 'nail us'," I say.
Merritt adds, "And we encourage him to do so if he has the brains and the fur."
Danny brings the crowd back, saying, "What is magic? Our argument: nothing but targeted deception. So I want you to look," Danny walks to the middle of the stage, where we stand in a line. "Look as closely as possible because the tricks you are about to see may not seem connected, but we assure you, they are. Is what follows one hundred different tricks or is it one giant illusion?"
Then the lights go out. Merritt and I leave the stage. We're not performing the first trick. The only way the audience would know that the tricks were connected was if they could see into the future. We'll use the tricks in tonight's show again to pull more Robin Hood acts later.
I hang out backstage, just listening to Danny, Merritt, or Henley talk and the audience responding. I'm trying to get used to the fact that it'll be my responsibility to keep them entertained. I have to be in charge out there. Here I go.
I take my jacket off backstage and leave it there. Forget that. I casually stroll out to the front of the stage.
"There are two pencils out there," I say, shuffling the deck of cards. I feel surprisingly at ease and play it up. I know how to do this. I've been doing it my whole life. "Hold them up high, let me see them."
Two ladies, one in the second show and one in the eighteenth, stand up and raise the pencil. "Here!" One yells. "Yeah," The other shouts.
"Now, ladies," I warn them, looking up from the deck. "Keep a strong grip on those pencils; can you do that for me? And keep them still. Hold them up as high as you can. Now, I need everyone to countdown with me. Here we go." I position most of the deck in one hand.
"Three, two, one," I count off with them. I let the cards flip out from my hand and fall into a shower in the second row; a card gets impaled by the pencil. It just so happens to be a Jack. I grin at them as they applaud.
I take the one card I have left and throw it. It shoots through the air and slices the pencil in row eighteen. The end of the pencil hits the ground with a clink and the room erupts in applause and cheers. Fruit Ninja has paid off.
"See you guys later!" I wave and exit the stage. I resume my post backstage and return to my listening. A few tricks later and I'm up again, this time with absolute confidence.
I run off the front of the stage and start walking down the middle aisle, yelling, "Okay, okay! I need two volunteers! Let's see."
I find a lady about the same age as my mom near the back row. "Ma'am, you are absolutely stunning. Can I borrow you for one second? Is that okay? Let's get on stage." I help her up, grabbing her scarf with my other hand. She doesn't notice. I lead to towards the stage.
About half way up, I see a man with a blue zip-up sweatshirt and a baseball cap. "How about this man?" I rest my hands on his shoulders and drape the scarf over them. I have to keep talking to keep them distracted, so sometimes I say some weird things.
"With the sweetest face I've ever seen! Let's get you on stage, my man." I help him up, getting his sweatshirt halfway off.
"Alright, I'm going to make some quick adjustments." I quickly slip the lady's necklace off as I take off the man's cap and place it on my head.
"You're about to be on stage in front of thousands of people, I just want you to look your best." I took of the lady's earrings and put the necklace on the man.
"Alright, we're just going to make some last minute fixes." I put one earring in on the man; he had pierced ears, which is why I choose him. I pull off the man's sweatshirt, put it on the lady. Put the other earring in and fix the man's scarf.
"We're almost there." I place the cap on the lady's head.
"Let me take a look. You look damn fine. Alright, ma'am, please climb up on stage to your left. Sir, to your right. I'll meet you in the center; let's have some fun."
I jump the stage in the center. "Gah," I say, throwing my hands up in mock defeat when they climb on stage in each other's accessories. I let out a chuckle. "Let me start off by saying I didn't steal anything, I swear."
I run to grab a microphone and hold it out in front of the woman. "Now, tell me, did you have any idea what I was doing?"
She shrugs. "I thought you were wearing that guy's hat. I just realized that I was wearing his sweatshirt when I got up here."
"Now, my good sir," I put my arm on his shoulder and hold the mic for him. "How does it feel to be wearing women's earrings?" I ask.
He feels his ears and is taken aback to find her earrings in. "Man," He laughs. "I didn't even notice."
"Well, please, return the accessories," I say. "Tonight, you all are going to learn something about pick pocketing. First: you need to keep your mark distracted. That's why I tend to talk a lot. Also, physical contact works for a distraction. Bumping them or helping them up are some fine examples." I look back at my volunteers, now wearing the proper clothing.
"Let's give a round of applause for the volunteers. Now, hopefully, you can recognize the signs of a pickpocket next time you're in the cities."
At the beginning of the finale, Merritt makes his way to the front of the stage. I watch from backstage. "At the intermission, we asked you to write down your current bank balance and seal it in an envelope. Now it's time to take those envelopes out. Everyone take them out." There's a sound of rustling paper as everyone gets their envelope.
"Now, everybody, shout out your name all at once. Go." There's a roar of noise as everyone yells.
"Clement Frannick?" Merritt asks, dubiously.
"Yeah, up here!" Clement shouts from the balcony and stands up.
"Oh, way up there. Okay. Dina Robertson?"
"That's me!" Dina yells excitedly also from the balcony, taking her stand.
"Okay. Names, let's go." Another roar from the audience. "Josepha Hickey?" Merritt asks.
"That's me," says a woman from the main floor, standing up.
"Josepha, I want you to focus on your balance, and count from one to ten out loud."
"One, two, three, four, five," She counted consistently, but Merritt still interrupted her.
"Stop," Merritt holds up a hand and asks, "Is the first digit five?"
With a bewildered look on her face, she responds, "Yes."
"Do it again, this time faster."
"One, two, three, four, five, six,"
"Stop. Six. Again."
"One, two,"
"Josepha, is your bank balance 562 dollars as of today?" Merritt makes his prediction.
"Yeah. That's what I've got." Josepha shrugs.
"Unfortunately, you're wrong," Merritt accuses. As Josepha looks astonished, Merritt moves on. "Okay, Dina." Merritt puts his hand to his forehead, as if he's psychically getting numbers. "One… Four… Seven…Seven," Merritt finishes.
"Yeah," Dina responds.
"You think it is. But in fact, you, too, are wrong. Now, Clement, you do not have 6,500 dollars in your account. In fact, everybody stand up. Everybody." There are soft murmurs as everyone stands.
"Yeah. Put your envelopes to your forehead. Focus on your number. This is… Oh dear, just as I feared," Merritt draws it out, like he hopes he doesn't have to break the bad news. "Oh, this is strange. You know, I hate to say this, but you're all wrong."
Henley and Danny come back on stage. "Every last one of you is dead wrong about what you think is in your account. Okay, you can sit down now."
Daniel whispers something in Merritt's ear and points to a balcony seat where Art and Jasmine are sitting. He pats him on the back and walks off. "Oh, I almost forgot. This evening would not be possible if it weren't for our great benefactor, Arthur Tressler." Merritt motions with a hand towards the seats and a spotlight shines down. Art waves.
"Big applause!" Danny requests. "Art, actually, why don't you come up on stage for the finale?"
"Come on down, Art," Henley says. Art makes his way down.
"There he goes," Danny says. "Okay, good."
Henley brings Art onto the stage and asks, "Now, Art, did you fill out your envelope? Well, no need. We've done it for you."
That's my cue; I bring out a giant envelope. It's almost as big as me. About three foot by five foot with the Four Horsemen's logo on the front. I hand it off to Henley and Daniel. I immediately return backstage.
"Now, Art," Merritt says. "I took a guess. North of 140, am I right?" Art laughs as Henley opens the envelope and pulls out a large check with his bank balance. "That's 140 million, by the way."
"I'm sorry, Merritt," Henley says. "How can he be right about his bank balance and everyone else be wrong?"
"I think possibly because he, too, is wrong." Art steadily becomes more concerned about his money. "Everybody, take out your paper and using the flashlight under your seat start to warm up that paper. I think your correct balance begins to appear." The dark audience becomes speckled with little lights as they wave the flashlights over the paper.
"Art, don't worry, we have a flashlight for you," Merritt points to me. I'm coming out with a giant flashlight for the giant paper. I lift it up, with some effort, like I'm worried that the audience can't see it. I flip it on and light up the back side of Art's check.
"Look," Danny points out. One of the numbers changes from a seven to a zero.
"What's going on there, Daniel?" Merritt asks.
"Wait. This is weird. A second ago, it said 144, 579, 651, but now it says 70, 000 dollars less."
"Josepha, can you stand up?"
She urgently stands, saying, "Yes?"
"Now, what is your new number?"
"70, 562 dollars now in my account," Josepha responds, overjoyed. The crowd applauds.
Henley points out, "Is it possible that Josepha's balance went up the same amount that Art's went down?"
"Hey, check it out," I say, still waving the light. "It's happening again."
"Is it?" Danny asks, bringing the attention back to the massive check. More numbers fade and reappear as new digits.
"Wow, it is," Henley answers. "Art's balance has gone down another 280K."
Art is getting anxious.
"Dina Robertson? What did yours say?"
"281, 477 dollars," Dina answers, beside herself. That's when I set down the flashlight. Henley and Danny set down the check.
"We have a confession to make," Henley announces.
"She's right," I say. "We lied about something."
"Yes, none of you were chosen at random," Danny confesses.
"All of you have one thing in common." Merritt says.
"Everyone in this room," Henley says. "Was a victim of the hard times that hit one of America's most treasured cities."
"Some of you lost your houses, your cars," Merritt says.
"Your businesses," I add.
"You loved ones," Danny adds. "But all of you were insured by the same company."
We all point to Arthur Tressler and say in unison, "Tressler Insurance." The crowd gets wild with boos and cries.
"You were abandoned," Merritt says.
"You were loop-holed," Henley says.
"Out of your settlements," I finish.
A man from the audience stands up and yells, "Whoa! I've got 82, 000 dollars in my bank account! It says it right here on my cell phone!" Everyone takes out their cell phones to check their bank balance. The crowd gets up and cheers and it's now chaos in here.
Art is furious; I've never seen him like this. It's kind of scary. "Hey," He points to Merritt, yelling, "Did you do this?"
Merritt gives him a weird look.
I come to his defense, saying, "How could we, Art? We don't have your password." I walk to the middle of the stage.
Henley continues, "We'd need access to information we could never get our hands on." She waves her hands, joining me center stage.
"Ah, yes," Danny says, raising his hands to his head like Merritt does. "Security questions, for instance, like, I don't know, your mother's maiden name or the name of your first pet." Danny joins us, fist-bumping me.
"Where would we get that information, Art? You certainly would never tell us," Merritt smirks as he walks past him. Art looks ready to strangle us, but we cuffed his foot to the stage. "Hey, we left you the jet and the Rolls," Merritt shrugs. Art turns around slowly and realizes he's stuck on stage in front of the people he cheated. Truly a nightmare. The audience boos and hollers insults.
I notice Jasmine up on the balcony looking around awkwardly like she wants to leave; no longer a smile on her face. I feel a pang of guilt, but remind myself that it isn't about her; it's her father.
We stand in the middle of the stage. We can see Agent Rhodes running towards the stage yelling something. Then he yells, "Freeze!" That word just so happens to be a trigger word for a hypnotism trick that Merritt did earlier. He told them that when they heard the word, they would be football players and they had to attack the quarterback, who would be the person yelling the word. So, as Agent Rhodes reaches the stage, he's attacked by hypnotized audience members.
Ropes descend from the ceiling above us. Each of us grab it with one hand and wrap a foot in a loop at the bottom. "We are The Four Horsemen," We yell in unison. "Good night!" The ropes rise up into the ceiling and the last thing I see of the theater is a pile of bodies on top of the FBI agent.