Page 16 of Tightrope

He tossed the paper aside, took Chester’s flashlight, and aimed it at the rat’s nest of wires that constituted the robot’s innards.

“You’re right, Chester,” he said. “This is sloppy work.” He switched the beam of the flashlight so that it shone on the robot’s dramatic face. “Something is definitely off here.”

“What do you mean?” Luther asked.

“The design of the head and body is quite striking.”

Luther took a closer look at the robot’s features. “Almost regal, isn’t it? Reminds me of the photos of the death mask of that ancient Egyptian king that Howard Carter discovered back in the twenties. King Tut or something.”

“King Tutankhamen,” Oliver said. He snapped his fingers. “You’re right. I’ve been trying to figure out why the robot looked vaguely familiar.”

Luther studied Matthias. “What were you saying about something being off?”

Matthias lowered the flashlight. “We’ve got an artistically designed aluminum housing stuffed with a lot of shoddy electrical wiring and cheap mechanical parts. It’s as if two different people were involved with the creation of Futuro—an artist and a mediocre inventor. Seems off, that’s all.”

Luther turned to Chester. “You just told us that this thing was, essentially, a kind of fancy clockwork toy.”

“Near as I can figure,” Chester said. “And that’s assuming all those motors and wires actually work. I’m not even sure about that. There’s no obvious way to activate the damned thing.”

“Clockwork toys have been around for a long time,” Luther pointed out. “They can be engineered to carry out some fairly complicated maneuvers.”

“That’s right,” Oliver said. “When I was a kid, I remember seeing clockwork figures that could row a small boat or pedal a miniature bicycle. There was one that shot a little arrow.”

“Any chance that this robot could have been designed to pull the trigger of a gun?” Luther asked.

“Sure,” Chester said. “But someone would have had to put the gun into the robot’s hand, aim it in the right direction, and then give the command to pull the trigger.”

“None of those things happened last night,” Oliver said.

“No,” Matthias agreed. “When the robot came back onstage, it was still carrying the suitcase. That wasn’t supposed to happen. You could see that Pickwell was surprised. The entire audience had heard him order the robot to leave the suitcase behind the curtain.”

Luther looked thoughtful. “Instead, the robot put the suitcase on the bench, took out the gun, and pulled the trigger not once but twice. What’s more, it had to adjust the aim, because after the first shot, Pickwell was in a different position.”

Chester shook his head. “I just don’t think this thing was capable of carrying out so many complex mechanical actions. But maybe I’m missing something. I need to get Futuro to my workshop, where I can do a proper job of examining it.”

Luther frowned. “What about Futuro’s response to voice commands? Pickwell asked him to predict the weather and the robot gave a forecast.”

Chester’s bushy brows rose. “Nothing fancy about the weather prediction. Come with me.”

He led the way to a record player sitting on a small bench. There was a record on the turntable.

“Well, damn,” Matthias said. “That explains a few things.”

Chester turned on the machine and gently lowered the needle onto the record. Futuro’s scratchy voice boomed out of the speaker.

“... There will be fog in the morning but by noon the day will turn warm and sunny. No rain is expected.”

Chester lifted the needle arm. “I found this right after I got here this morning. There are also some answers to other questions that Pickwell never had a chance to ask.”

“Magic,” Oliver said.

Matthias and the others looked at him.

“Stage magic,” Oliver explained. “But this record player didn’t activate itself. Every magician has an assistant.”

Detective Brandon grunted. “Charlie Hubbard. We’re still looking for him.”

Matthias looked at Brandon. “I’d like to talk to the theater manager.”

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