Dark Magic by Tom Williams

Author:Tom Williams [Williams, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Big Red Publishing
Published: 2019-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Alf had still been uncertain about the invitation when he buttoned on his old brown raincoat sometime after eleven and stood hesitating at the stage door. Mr Clements, though, had sent a taxi and there the driver was, waiting for him. It was only polite, he thought, to get in.

Alf liked the Spotlight Club. It was a shabby reminder of a previous age and he fitted naturally into this place of dusty corners and cracked leather sofas. It was, he felt, “a proper theatre club”. There were signed photos on the walls, many of them showing actors who had been stars when he was still a young man.

“You'll have a whisky," Mr Clements had insisted. “Then we’ll take it through somewhere quiet.”

They made their way along a corridor with a frayed carpet and Clements opened a door about half way down. He fumbled for a light switch and a fluorescent tube flickered into life revealing a shabby room that seemed to have been overlooked by the cleaners for a while. Still, Alf thought, it looked a comfortable place for a chat, if a little dusty. It was set up halfway between a lounge and a meeting room, with a big table and office chairs in the middle, but cosy old armchairs clustered in one corner. Alf settled down with his whisky and Mr Clements sat opposite him. The mind-reader sat to one side and Alf did his best to ignore him. The man made him nervous.

"I'm sorry to bother you again about those two men," Clements said, though Alf didn't think he sounded sorry at all. “But now you've had a chance to think about it, I'd like you to try and remember them again.”

It was, as far as Alf was concerned, pointless. They were just two men in overalls. Still, Mr Clements had bought him a whisky, so it seemed only fair to give it another go. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

It was odd. He wasn’t generally troubled by headaches, but now his head was aching again. It seemed as if even thinking about the previous day's events brought on the pain. It was understandable he supposed. It must be making him think about the accident with the rifle. That was a terrible thing.

“Concentrate on the two men.”

The mind-reader’s voice was sharp. Really he had no business speaking to him like that. And, anyway, how did he know he hadn’t been concentrating on the men?

He tried to think harder about them but it was difficult with his head aching so much. He felt as if his brain was going to burst.

“Concentrate.”

He could hardly concentrate on anything now. The room seemed to be growing darker. He thought he heard the mind reader: “He won’t be able to take much more,” and then Mr Clements: “Keep going. We need anything you can get.”

Then blackness.

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