Page 46 of Mastermind

“And the only way out would be to climb the fence or through here?” I ask.

Jack nods. “Which is why I get frustrated when people accuse us of doing this ourselves. Why would we leave the camera on in here? It’d be easier to believe someone just backed up a truck and stole them from back here.”

“Can we look outside?” asks Theo.

“Sure. This way.” Jack leads us through a side door that opens into a passage behind the fake rock cliff.

We follow Jack down the narrow corridor. I keep glancing around, worried some hidden chimp will come flying at my face with its teeth bared. Intellectually I know it’s safe, but Theo’s stories and my own online research have me on edge.

“Cages are confusing for animals,” Theo muses aloud. “They don’t understand the relationship between the cage and the person caging them. Also, from a psychological perspective, they don’t fully understand captivity, but it affects them . . . They don’t know where to direct their anger.”

“I used to work with a tiger in my magic show,” I reply. “She was an adolescent. Still dangerous, though. If I knew what I know now, I never would have done that.”

“How did your parents think that was okay?” asks Theo.

“I had a weird childhood. My grandfather kept a pistol on him whenever the cat was around. So, there was that.”

We reach the main area of the chimpanzee enclosure, the section where the chimps would hang out doing chimpanzee business among rocks and trees that look a lot less natural up close. Above us is the viewing area that wraps almost completely around. A family has stopped to look at us. A confused toddler in her father’s arms points at us and asks something in Thai. He laughs.

“She wanted to know why the chimps are so white and wearing clothes,” says Jack, translating.

Theo drops to all fours and scrambles on top of a rock and beats his chest like an ape. The little girl claps her hands, and the family laughs.

“I don’t think your friend is all there,” Jack whispers to me.

“Dr. Cray is unique.”

I’m just glad he’s regaining his health.

Theo stands up and surveys the enclosure, revealing the real reason he climbed on top of the rock. It’s weird how his brain works. He’s deadly serious one moment and then clowning the next, but then you realize that he decided to get from point A to point B by amusing a child.

He examines the walls and the fence, then turns to me. “That back door still looks like the best option.”

“We have footage,” says Jack.

“Footage can be faked,” I reply. “Trust me. Besides, if not that way, then what? How do you steal thirty scared chimps that would just as easily maul you?”

Theo kneels on the boulder. “Maybe you don’t steal them. Perhaps you just show them the door and they let themselves out? They’re quite clever. Captive chimps observe people opening doors and unlocking gates.”

That has me thinking. I start walking around the enclosure, looking at it from a chimp’s point of view. I don’t know that I’d want to escape, but then again, I might be curious to explore. But all of them?

I put that aside and think about it from a different perspective. Something Theo said. It’s not like we’re in the Louvre trying to figure out who stole the Mona Lisa. We’re at Alcatraz, trying to understand how an entire prison block escaped.

My nose twitches, and I realize something. The curious part of my brain overtakes the rational, fearful part, and I act on a hunch.

Jack is the first to speak. “Where did she go?”

“Well, that’s interesting,” says Theo, trying to figure out how I vanished.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

TRAPDOOR

Magicians have been using trapdoors to create illusions for centuries. What most people don’t realize is that in a good magic show, if you think the magician is using a trapdoor, she probably isn’t. When used poorly, trapdoors can make the performer look clumsy and undermine the effect. Used judiciously, they can add a dramatic touch to a trick.

When audiences came to understand that the stage could be riddled with secret entrances and exits, magicians had to think of new methods to rule out the possibility of a secret door in the stage.

I rarely had the luxury of performing in theaters with traps, so I had to use illusions that employed entirely different methods. For this reason, I rarely even consider trapdoors, thinking they would be too obvious, but my grandfather showed me that with the right misdirection, they could help you perform a miracle.