The way Yoshi feels, left hanging on the line like this, he might as well be under a spotlight. Billy is standing to one side with the second mirror, out of sight from Mae Ling. He catches Yoshi looking at him, and touches a finger to his lips. The phone feels hot against his ear, while the hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle. For one horrible moment, he wonders if the entire phone box might suddenly soar into the sky like some kind of infernal elevator. Another crackle brings his fears back to ground level. Then a Russian voice clips in through the receiver that prompts Yoshi to focus on Mikhail across the road.
“. . . and that, Mae Ling, is how it’s possible to survive in a glass box for over a month without food. Now, my crew like our grub too much to get involved in that kind of stunt, so how about we earn ourselves something to eat with a little trick of our own.”
“Sure thing, Mikhail. But you won’t fool me so easy. I bring my glasses today, see?” The old lady is wearing a pair of half-moon spectacles on a chain around her neck. From the box, Yoshi watches her prop them on her nose. “OK, what you got me?”
“Let me begin by introducing you to a new friend.” Mikhail steps aside and gestures over the market strip towards the phone box. “Yoshi there has lost his memory. He’s making a quick call to report it missing. We’re just worried it’s not only his memory that’s in danger of vanishing.”
“I know this.” Mae Ling claps her hands together. “You got false bottom in that phone booth. Am I right? I turn around. The stooge drops out of sight.”
“Oh, please!” Mikhail sounds wounded. “Do we look like amateurs? You know us, Mae Ling. If we can’t do a job properly, we don’t do it at all. We could make our boy there disappear in a blink, but let’s think bigger than that. What do you say we make the whole box vanish into thin air?”
“I say you crazy boys!” She sounds both dismissive and delighted. “Go ahead then, Mikhail. Make my day!”
“Very well,” Yoshi hears him say, and his grip tightens around the receiver. “But first you’ve got to let me taste one of those dumplings.”
“Hey, hands off!” Mae Ling laughs as Mikhail reaches for one of the small snacks without warning, and playfully slaps his wrist. It’s the moment the crew have been waiting for. In a blink, Billy and his boy have snapped the mirror into place in front of the phone box. Swiftly they tilt it towards the mirror behind the stall, just as they have practised, and then scurry out of sight.
The move leaves Yoshi unable to see the old woman across the street. Even so, he doesn’t need the phone to hear the cry of delight that follows, and judge from it that the trick has worked a treat. “How you do that, Mikhail? Where is the phone box? All I see are bricks!”
Yoshi glances at the boy with the other mirror, still hiding from Mae Ling. He’s tilted it now to reflect the wall behind them onto the mirror in front of the box. He certainly looks very pleased with himself, as he’s managed to seamlessly blend the reflected brickwork with the real thing. Yoshi can’t help grinning himself, especially when he hears Mae Ling protest again. For as Mikhail helps himself to yet more dim sum, he signals on the sly for the removal of the props around the box.
With the mirrors gone, Yoshi is free to see his friend pop another snack in his mouth, then face him directly.
“Look who’s back, Mae Ling!” he says, feigning surprise.
The old lady turns, peels off her glasses to check the lenses haven’t deceived her, and then takes a step back.
“You did it! Wowee, Mikhail. You earned big breakfast today. Take all the grub you can eat!”
Yoshi waves at them both, relieved to have come through the illusion unscathed. Billy and the rest of the crew look just as pleased. Even so, something doesn’t feel quite right to the boy. The hairs on the back of his neck are still prickling wildly. He glances around, sees nothing strange – just people browsing and striking deals – and yet his heart continues to hammer. He’d almost be able to hear it beating away, but a high-pitched hum has started up in his ears. It sounds like some kind of interference, and yet nobody else in the market seems to notice. Yoshi winces, feeling both confusion and alarm. Then, out of nowhere, a flash appears to go off in front of him. He blinks and shields his eyes on impulse, only to realise that the flash has come from within. And as it fades away, taking with it the piercing noise, he is left with the weird but unmistakeable impression of two tight blue eyes. Slowly a face and then a figure take shape in his mind, flanked by ornate gates just like those that book-end this very street. A static click down the line spells an end to this dreamlike vision. It’s Mission Control, congratulating him.
“You did good, soldier. You can stand down now, and stuff your face.”
“Something’s wrong,” is all Yoshi can say. He blinks until his focus sharpens on his surroundings once again. The image in his mind has gone, but not the sense of foreboding.
“No problems reported from here. The target can’t believe what she’s just seen, so who’s complaining? You’re kinda new at this game to be a perfectionist.”
Yoshi is about to explain that it isn’t the illusion that concerned him. Then his eyes lock onto a figure through the crowd, and open wide in dread.
The brute in the white mink coat prowls from one stall to the next. He’s entirely bald, with a neck so thick it folds at the back, and a brow at the front like a rock face. His sheer presence is impossible to ignore, from his height to his giant build. The boy watches him pick over the produce on offer, and barely breathes at this shock sighting. His memory might not go back much further than the fog-bound night in which he arrived, but he’s certain this guy is very bad news.
“It’s him,” he croaks into the phone. “He’s come back for me.”
A pause crackles down the line. The sound of the Bridge in confusion. “Soldier, you look a little unwell. Your order is to return to the bunker.”
Yoshi cannot stop gawping at the man in the mink. He’s obviously arrived in search of something, but it’s clear he hasn’t spotted Yoshi. Then he stops, right beside Mikhail, in front of Mae Ling’s stall. He’s drawn, it seems, just like the Russian boy, to the tasty-looking snacks on display.
“Oh no!” Yoshi freezes at what follows. For Mae Ling is still making an almighty song and dance about the vanishing act that’s just been pulled off in her honour. It’s enough to distract anyone currently picking over her produce, until they decide to see what all the fuss is about. Slowly the brute turns around. And for the second time in a matter of moments, Yoshi comes face to face with a pair of baleful, blue eyes. This time, they seem to bore right through the boy for real.
“Get me out of here,” he yells down the line. “Now!”
“Huh?” The voice from the Bridge doesn’t sound so in charge this time.
“The mirrors!” breathes Yoshi urgently, just as the man in the mink begins to push across the crowd. The market is at its busiest, however, and for a moment Yoshi loses sight of him. When he spots the brute among the throng again he’s closer still. This time, however, he’s looking angered by all the people in his way.
“Please,” the boy yells into the phone, “get the mirrors back in place!” Just then a squeal causes heads in the crowd to turn, upon which two porters attempt to push through. They’re shouting at one another, and seem to be in pursuit of something at ground level. Amid the chaos, the crowd on Yoshi’s side open up, and a loose pig scurries out. “Now!” he screams, seizing this last opportunity. “Make me disappear!”
Billy No-Beard is there with the mirror in an instant. He’s evidently trained to act without question. Even so, the look he shoots Yoshi before covering the phone box makes it clear that he’s confused.
“Both mirrors are in place, soldier. Do you want to tell us what this is about?”
“The guy in the street,” Yoshi whispers, unable to see out himself now. “The big bald monster with the fancy coat. What’s he doing?”
“Scratching his big bald head,” comes the response after a moment. “He looks a little lost.”
“What else?”
“He’s looking in your direction, and frowning hard. Oh . . . hold on.”
“What?”
“He’s heading your way!”
“But I’m stuck! You have to help! It’s the guy who was after me the other night. He’s coming to get me and I’m trapped!”
“Calm down, soldier. He’s stopped again. People are flocking across to see what all the squealing and shouting was about just now. The target is trying to steer around them but he isn’t getting far.”
“Are you sure he can’t see me? Are the mirrors reflecting the brick wall behind this box?”
“Of course they are! We’re professional street magicians, not hucksters! I can’t speak for the little piggy, but it seems you might just get away with this. The target is looking in your direction again, but there’s nothing to see. The illusion works a treat so long as nobody walks behind the box, and Billy has been briefed to stop that from happening.”
“You guys think of everything,” says Yoshi.
“You don’t need spells to make magic, soldier. Just thorough planning— hang on, there’s another swell of people in his way . . . That’s it! He’s giving up trying to cross to your side of the street. He doesn’t look happy, but you’re in the clear.”
“Are you certain?”
“Seems he’s lost his appetite for dim sum, too. If you want me to carry on tracking him I’m going to have to switch traffic cams.”
“You mean he’s leaving?”
“Affirmative, soldier. Target has exited the market. Looks like we made you vanish in the nick of time.”
A second later, a sound shoots up over the market like a firework. Those people passing Mae Ling’s stall turn in the direction of the noise, only to carry on about their business because there’s nothing to be seen. Just a worn-looking brick wall behind the stalls, though some might swear that a phone box usually stands there. There’s certainly something fishy about this scene. For as everybody knows, brick walls don’t whoop in relief.