Chapter 8
A heart pounding atmosphere of accelerating joy filled the Paris music hall as the stage was filled with dancers doing the Can-Can. Their skirts were waved to and fro revealing petticoat frills and black stockings. The music kept cascading into a loud vibrant tempo, driving the dancers into a frenzied performance of well synchronized leg kicking known sometimes as the infernal gallop.
The audience sat at tables, clapping their hands interactively with the piece. Tom Swift was at one of these tables, he was a young American inventor, torn from his New Jersey home to personally demonstrate his own design; a Great War tank. Waitresses served him with souffles and other pastries, also white wine, Tom found them all delicious but would still miss his Banana splits, sodas and milkshakes.
Two men seated at the table with Tom were his military escort, Clayton Andrews, who was assigned to watch over him until he reaches the front where the tank was. The other was Jedidiah Leland, an entertainment critic from New York; he was writing out his reviews on the spot.
The Can-Can had given Tom a thrill, he took a large sip of wine.
"Take it easy on the wine Tom." Said Clayton. "You need your wits about you. Enemy spies could be in this very hall."
Tom dismissed those concerns; his experience with spies told him they try to steal the inventions, not the inventor. A visual scan of the music hall pointed out only one suspicious figure, a hooded figure at the table behind him, but that was a woman, she was disregarded.
Whereas this performance gave Tom a thrill, the previous act had him in uncontrollable laughter. It was a man rhythmically farting out the tune of Claire de Lune. This Paris music hall was a cultural jolt for the young inventor; it was almost a shame that many of the following acts would be American.
The next act was Italian, it was famous strongman Masciste; with him on the stage were a handful of actors in Austrian soldiers' uniform.
"He's going to re-enact a scuffle he had with Austrian Alpine troops in the Dolomites." Jedidiah said to Tom.
The actors rushed Masciste and started coiling their ropes about him. A yell of rage bellowed out of the strongman as he shook the actors of like they were flies; his arms swept them into a corner. Masciste grabbed on of the actors, who must have been a stuntman, swung him by his legs as if he was a baseball bat and smashed him into the cornered group. The actors were all bowled over; then, with theatrical restraint, Masciste started beating the piled up troupe with a stick.
A rousing applause came from the French audience as Masciste took a bow before the curtain fell.
"A propaganda show off." Vocalized Jedidiah as he wrote his review.
After the curtain raised more lively music was played by the orchestra as two dancers from America fluttered onto the stage. They were Rose Dawson and Norma Desmond, both young and flighty, they launched into a Hoochie Coochie dance. Fluttering around like butterflies they both charmed the predominantly French audience. At the end Rose stayed behind to show herself lifting up of the ground to stand on the tips of her toes.
Jedidiah started talking while writing. "It appears we're going to make an impression in this country."
A tap on the shoulder had Tom turn to a French soldier at a nearby table; he was Julio Desnoyers, he had an Argentine accent. Clayton trusted the young serviceman and didn't intervene.
"They are from your country Tom?" He asked rhetorically. "I would love to tango with each of them." He plucked a red rose from his belt, placed it in his mouth and roared seductively.
When the curtain raised again an organ was on the stage; next to it was famous British organist Dr Antonius Phibes. His mustached face had a lot of charm, he tested the organ then introduced his American partner in this act. A little girl in pigtails stepped onto the stage and waved. The Americans needed no introduction, this singer was known as Baby Jane.
Dr Phibes sat down at the organ and played. Baby Jane sang her usual sweet songs of innocence and homage to her father while the organ belted out a gothic style accompaniment. Tom had seen Baby Jane perform in America and there she had an sweet little girl appeal but here and with Phibes' organ playing, she took on overtones of gothic horror. When the act was over they both took a bow as the applause honoured them.
"May Baby Jane never grow old." Uttered Jedidiah while writing his review notes.
"As for Antonius Phibes; let's hope he keeps his genius on organ playing and nothing else."
"What's the next act?" Asked Tom.
"A somnambulist." Answered Jedidiah.
An upright cabinet rested against the stage wall. The presenter was called Dr Caligari, a crotchety old man bearing a cane to help him walk but quite able to use it like a showman. He looked at the audience with his eyes trying to see over his spectacles.
"How many of you can see your destinies?" He roared to the audience. "How many of you can look at yourself in the mirror and see what will happen to you in the future?
"You." He pointed to a man at the centre front table. "Can you see what prosperity will find the man at the table next to you?
"You." He pointed to a woman at the right front table. "Can you look at the woman on the table next to you and see the happiness that will shower down on her?
"The answer is no I believe. You can guess, make deductions, conjecture and predictions, but most of destiny is unpredictable driven by random fluctuations; accidents, chance and let's not forget war.
"You cannot see destiny because you have been awake most of your lives. It is ironic but that has placed an invisible curtain over your eyes, limiting your vision to the here and now, never seeing the future and its various courses. This is why your super fortunes often elude you."
Caligari moved to his cabinet.
"I have here someone who is not so limited. He has slept for most of his life, thus he is not blind to destiny. He is due to awake for a few moments. Ask him your destiny and he will tell."
Dr Caligari opened up his cabinet to reveal a sleeping figure of a young man in a black body stocking.
"Behold Cesare." Roared Caligari. "You've slept long enough Cesare. I say awaken!"
The figure did not stir.
"Cesare, Awaken." Caligari Yelled.
Cesare's lids slowly lifted to reveal wide piercing eyes. He stepped out of the cabinet and kept his upright balance well for someone who just awoke from a long sleep. Each step he took towards the stage edge seemed to imply oncoming menace. His wide eyes scanned the audience like a hawk seeking its prey, looking for something to focus on.
A woman in the front stood up and implored him.
"When will I be rich and happy." She asked.
Cesare's face took on a sinister look.
"You will die before that happens." He said.
The woman collapsed back into her chair while being fanned by her friends.
"How long will I live?" Asked a man with a red carnatiom in his jacket.
"Until the end of the show." Said Cesare
A slight feeling of audience discontent emanated from that corner.
"Will I survive the war." Asked Julio Desnoyers.
"No." Said Cesare. "You will die in the trenches."
The somnambulist was looking his way now. Tom did not want his fortune told by this harbinger of death but a nudge from behind jolted his arm up. Tom looked back to see the hooded woman disappear into the crowd. Cesare was focused on him now as was Clayton, with a look of disapproval.
"You." Yelled Cesare while pointing at Tom. " You will die. You will die on the morrow unless you go to blonde woman on the hilltop."
Cesare turned to another audience member for another unsolicited prediction.
"You." He yelled to a bare shouldered courtesan. "You shall die within seconds."
A general discontent came over the audience. When the designated courtesan collapsed and convulsed in what looked like a heart attack, a panic erupted and most people made for the exit.
A man at the back yelled at Cesare. "You're a real bastard. You know that?"
Cesare focused his eyes on the heckler and the ceiling above him.
"You will die right now." He blasted.
A light explosion came from the ceiling above the heckler. The large chandelier at that spot suddenly fell on top of the heckler crushing his skull. Whatever decorum left in the audience disappeared all patrons rushed to join the mob jostling to get out.
Clayton motioned Tom Swift to wait; they saw Cesare collapse into a sleep state. Dr Caligari grabbed him before he fainted and dragged him back into his cabinet. The curtain fell.
One hour later, after the bulk of the crowd had dispersed, Tom, Clayton, Julio and the man with the red carnation found themselves on the street outside the music hall talking to the Paris police. The chief investigator was Inspector Maigret; through his hat and coat he questioned the four and pieced together what happened during the somnambulist's act. The woman who received the first deathly prediction was carried on a stretcher to the mortician's van after being stampeded by the panicked crowd.
Clayton Andrews spoke good French and gave descriptions of Caligari and Cesare. The two were nowhere to be found.
"I don't believe in sorcery gentlemen." Said Maigret. "I shall have these bodies autopsied and designate the music hall a crime scene until these fatalities are fully investigated. There has to be a realistic explanation."
"It must be a sham Inspector." Said the man with the red carnation. "My death was predicted to be at the end of the show. Well that's happened and I'm still here."
Maigret dismissed the four. Tom and the man with the red carnation began to cross the road, the former stopped when he saw the hooded woman give a signal. A hand gripped Tom's collar and yanked him back to the footpath, it was Clayton. A black car accelerated down the street and hit the man with the red carnation, knocking him onto the road then promptly ran over his already broken body. Through the corner of his eye, Tom spotted the haunting figure of Cesare at the car's steering wheel.
The car sped off, its victim dead in its tracks. A red carnation was made of paper, it floated in the breeze and once it landed rolled down the street nudged constantly by the wind.
Maigret, Clayton and Tom stared at each other in disbelief. When this broke off Tom sought out the hooded woman; she was gone.
Julio placed his red rose on the corpse of the victim, then his eyes met Tom's for a mutual stare of oncoming dread. Soon it will be their turn.