Gonko bent down and picked up something from the ground, a syringe full of clear liquid. ‘Right as usual, Doops,’ he said. ‘You always were the perceptive type. He
was
doing somethin’. He sure was.’
The acrobat was trying to get to his feet but his knee was bent at an odd angle. Gonko strolled over and gently prodded him so he fell onto his back. ‘This ain’t a tetanus booster, Sven, I think it’s safe to say. What’s the deal? What’s with the whole slinking into our tent thing?’
The acrobat tried to stand again and Gonko kicked him in the chest, not so gently this time. ‘You’d better let me go,’
Sven spat. ‘I’ll have you on odd jobs the rest of your life. You’ll never do another show.’
‘You know the rules,’ said Gonko. ‘You’re in our tent without our say-so. We can do whatever the fuck we like to you. Spit it out. What have you got against JJ?’
Jamie’s eyes went wide.
‘You know what you did,’ said Sven. ‘You brought it on yourselves. We owe you.’
Gonko looked around at the other clowns, confusion on his face. The acrobat tried to crawl away. Goshy began making the kettle noise. Gonko raised the two-by-four like a golfer preparing to swing, but he was interrupted by George Pilo. ‘Hey!’ George screamed from the doorway. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Hullo, George,’ said Gonko, the plank still raised above his shoulder. ‘I think I’m protecting our premises. Was about to give this guy a … what’s the opposite of a facelift?’
‘Squash smash face,’ said Doopy. ‘That’s what it is, Gonko, I think so, me and Goshy was just talking about it. Squash smash face.’
‘Well put, Doops. Yeah, George, this feller was sneaking in here with a murder weapon. What do you make of that?’
‘I don’t give a damn about your squabbles,’ said George, marching to Gonko and putting his face in the position, pressed into Gonko’s navel, his wet white eyes gleaming upwards balefully. ‘I don’t want to see you squabbling with other performers, Gonko. You’re a senior member of the show. You’re supposed to set an example.’
‘I was setting a
kind
of example, George,’ said Gonko.
‘I’m cutting your pay for tonight’s odd jobs,’ said George. Gonko twitched, and for a moment looked like he was about to perform a squash-smash-face procedure on George Pilo —
but he dropped the two-by-four and smiled pleasantly. ‘Tough but fair, George, as usual,’ he said.
George turned to the acrobat. ‘Look at your leg, you idiot. We have a show coming up and you go and get yourself incapacitated. Drag yourself over to the MM for repairs. I’ll let him know you’re coming.’
A shadow of fear passed over the acrobat’s face and a smirk appeared on Gonko’s. George marched off. The acrobat crawled away, leaving the clowns to enjoy a round of backslapping. Jamie made himself scarce, but two minutes later Gonko stood at his door. ‘JJ?’
‘Yes?’ said Jamie. ‘I was just going to put the paint on now —’
‘You been fucking with the acrobats?’ said Gonko.
‘No.’
‘Then why do they wanna kill you?’
‘I didn’t know they wanted to kill me.’
‘Looks like they do. Doops said this one was sneaking in here early this morning. Doops locked him in the closet then went back to bed. Acrobat got outta there somehow, tried to sneak into your room to give you a shot of something. I don’t think they were treating you to a hit of morphine.’
Jamie shrugged. ‘Why me?’
‘That’s just what I wanna know, feller. You didn’t do anything to ’em? No throwing mud, anything like that?’
‘No. I swear it.’
Gonko watched him closely. ‘Maybe you’re right, or maybe you’re a top-class liar. Either way’s fine with me. But don’t do anything, not yet. Time’ll come and we’ll get ours. For now it’s all happy love vibes, you got it? Live and let live and all that cutesy-pooh shit. Now is a time we clowns
wanna lay low, believe me. Some joker’s running around knocking shit over and whatnot. The boss won’t put up with it much longer, I’ll bet my brightest penny.’
Jamie nodded.
‘And paint up,’ said Gonko as he shut the door.
AROUND midday the clowns headed over to their performance tent for Kurt’s birthday celebration. There was a spring in JJ’s step, for he was glad things had settled down a little with his counterpart; Jamie had put the face paint on first thing this morning, so it looked like the games were over. If it stayed that way, JJ might just ease up on him … Little chickenshit hadn’t really understood who he was dealing with at first, but he’d learned his lesson. He’d better have.
The clowns were last to arrive at the stage tent, aside from Kurt. Gonko and Rufshod laid the weakly thrashing body bag on the ground beside them. Kurt had pretended not to arrange this gathering by sending gypsies out to do it for him. As he walked in he feigned surprise, clipboard in hand as though he’d wandered in on some regular maintenance check. All on hand had seen it many a time before; as instructed, they let out a chorus of ‘Surprise’. Kurt blushed, paws to his cheeks in pretend embarrassment, gushing ‘This is too much!’ and ‘Oh, you!’, and making limp-wristed
get outta here!
swishes at the air. He stood just before the stage and gazed around expectantly at everyone.
The competition for gifts had been overshadowed by the recent vandalism and was not as intense as years gone by. The acrobats had taken a safety-first approach and gave him a plastic bag full of teeth, the same gift they’d presented four years back, earning themselves diplomatic immunity in all the squabbles they’d been involved in at the time. It had been acrobats versus the sword-swallower in those days, since they’d shared a tent. The acrobats had won out, the sword-swallower had been relegated to Mugabo’s tent until, in a literally heated exchange, Mugabo turned him into a pot roast. But that was in the past, and the acrobats seemed to sense they’d been outdone this time. Their glances towards the clowns, who sat smugly by their writhing body bag, were plain murderous.
The acrobats gave Kurt the teeth first up, and Kurt was pleased. Not
thrilled
, but pleased. ‘Got a good feeling about this,’ Gonko whispered to his troupe.
Shalice, not terribly happy with either of the Pilos over their handling of the theft of her crystal ball, went to no bother at all; she presented Kurt with an ivory-handled toothbrush — something she’d found in Sideshow Alley — a gift just good enough not to avoid any serious recriminations. Kurt was graciously disappointed, sighing as might a wistful schoolgirl at a poster of some famous heartthrob, forever out of reach.
The lion tamer was clearly out of touch with Kurt’s present interests, and seemed to think Kurt was into birdwatching, as he’d been a year before. He gave Kurt a caged parrot he’d taught to say ‘Happy Birthday’. In the audience, Goshy bristled for some reason when the bird was unveiled, as though he’d spotted a rival. Glancing at him sidelong, JJ knew only that the more he learned about Goshy, the worse off he was.
Kurt wasn’t happy with the parrot at all; his fish lips were smiling, but he said not a word of thanks and his brow darkened like storm clouds gathering. The lion tamer walked back to his seat with a tremble in his step, looking much paler than when he’d stood.
The woodchoppers surprised everyone by proving themselves somewhat on the pulse; they gave Kurt a giant crucifix they’d constructed from redwood logs. As the four of them hauled it in Kurt glowed, showering them with praise. Gonko decided the time was ripe. He motioned to Rufshod and the pair of them carried the body bag to the stage, the priest moaning and wriggling like a netted fish inside. Gonko had tied a pink ribbon around the bag at the waist. ‘What’s this?’ said Kurt, already delighted as they laid the bag at his feet.
‘Little something we thought you might like, boss,’ said Gonko. ‘All yours. Enjoy.’ Kurt gushed again as he untied the ribbon, guessed at what it might be, joked that he hoped it wasn’t another pair of socks — not that anyone had dared give him a first pair — and undid the zipper.
‘What’s going on?’ the priest said in a croak. ‘I’m thirsty … please …’ He blinked at the gathered crowd, recoiled from the effusive seven-foot monster bending over him. Kurt’s monstrous eyes took in the priest’s collar, black robe and crucifix, and he looked like he might well burst with pleasure. ‘Oh
my
!’ he said. ‘Is this the genuine article? Not an imitation?’
‘Nothing but the best, boss,’ said Gonko, grinning viciously at the crestfallen acrobats. ‘No generic brands for you. Swiped him from a parish in Perth. All yours.’
Kurt was overcome. ‘Oh my!’ was all he could say. He gripped the priest’s head in his hands, his fingers engulfing the man’s skull easily. He poked a thumb into the priest’s
mouth, lifting a gum and inspecting the teeth as one might do to a farm dog. ‘Oh
my
,’ Kurt whispered.
‘Since he’s here, we figured maybe we could use him at Goshy’s wedding,’ said Gonko, ‘if that’s okay with you, boss. Make it official and all.’
‘Oh, sure!’ said Kurt, hauling the priest — who couldn’t stand for cramp — over his shoulder. The priest’s limp body seemed tiny so high above the ground. ‘You can borrow him, of course. The rest of you, just leave your gifts by the door of my trailer. I simply must play with this one right away.’ Kurt loped off and the performers cleared out of the tent.
Gonko was in high spirits as the clowns returned home. ‘See the look on his face? We’ll have our show back tomorrow, I’ll bet my left nut.’
JJ left them to celebrate and went to his room, intent on watching what Kurt got up to with that poor bastard. He propped a barricade against his door, reached under his bed for the pillow case, and —
It was gone. Instantly he knew he’d been betrayed. He let out a scream that scraped his throat. There followed a frantic and fruitless search of his room, then JJ sat down and stared straight ahead, teeth grinding, every so often lashing his fist against his pillow and convulsing with anger. ‘Jamie,’ he whispered, ‘this is war.’
Winston was tired, feeling the full weight of his extended years hitting him. The face paint may have been what kept them all going for as long as they did — he himself had stopped counting the years — but Winston was starting to think just being on the showgrounds was what did it. He’d
stopped using the paint long ago, but his body just kept plugging on. He’d heard rumours of tricks who’d visited the show living long miserable existences after they’d been here; soulless creatures, meat and bones whose only claim to life was that their bodies still ticked over. That was certainly how Winston felt right now.
He was trying to meet up with Randolph, a tricky stunt with both clowns and acrobats on full alert against each other. Things hadn’t been this tense for a good while, not since the acrobats had lost three of their performers in the last major feud. The clowns had lost two of theirs. Winston was recruited in 1836 to replace Wendell, the legendary obese clown, a 400-kilogram obscenity. Many had said Wendell’s stage act — wearing a tutu, gyrating grotesquely — would have been more at home in the freak show. Some time back, that was, when the circus had moved from France to this out-of-the-way prison colony, which went and became a nation right under their feet. Before France it had been Scotland, before Scotland Greece, and before that … There the record got a little hazy. Winston could remember the show unpacking after the move right as he joined, after each part of the carnival had been broken to small parts and carried through the ticket gates, piece by piece.
Though Winston wore the body of an old man, he was a relatively new face here. Rufshod was newer than he, Doopy and Goshy had appeared well before him, though their history was long forgotten. They were both too warped to be younger than multiple centuries each. And Gonko? Winston had no idea. He’d heard that Gonko had been chummy with Pilo Senior … and Pilo senior was long, long gone.
Winston stood outside the acrobats’ tent and gave a loud wolf-whistle, the signal to Randolph that he needed to talk.
It got an instant response — two acrobats ran out, yelling threats. Randolph strolled out after them. ‘No, he’s not worth it,’ he said contemptuously, standing between Winston and the others. ‘Not this one. Old fogey’s about to drop dead without our help, I’d say.’
‘Don’t come down here,’ said Sven, his leg wrapped in thick bandages. ‘I’m telling you, if I see you by this door again, I will snap your neck.’
‘That goes for your friends, too,’ said Randolph. Winston could hear the relief in his voice.
‘Don’t know what your problem is,’ said Winston. ‘I always come by here on my way to the freak show.’ His eyes met Randolph’s for an instant — message sent.
‘Get out of our sight,’ said Randolph, spitting at Winston’s feet and turning on his heel. The other acrobats followed him inside.
A few minutes later they met in the shadows of the freak show.
‘What is it?’ said Randolph.
‘What’s going on?’ said Winston. ‘One of your guys tried to bump off Jamie.’
‘Yes. Retaliation.’
‘Why Jamie? He’s one of us. Why not take out Rufshod, or Doopy?’
‘Jamie — no, JJ, is more dangerous than the others, Winston. He knows about us, for God’s sake. It was a bad move to bring him to the meeting.’
‘We’ve got that covered. Jamie’s found a way to keep his thoughts hidden from JJ. Blocks his memory with the powder. JJ wakes up not knowing a thing.’
‘And how do we know this?’
‘I live with them. I see JJ every day.’
Randolph looked exasperated. ‘And how am I supposed to get the others to change their minds about him?’
‘I don’t know, maybe you can’t. But there’s better targets than him, that’s all. JJ could come in useful, somehow.’
‘He could also get us all fucking
killed
, Winston.’
Winston sighed and rubbed his temples. ‘I can’t let you do it. Jamie’s a good kid. JJ’s an utter bastard, but I think Jamie’s got him worked out.’
‘Jesus, Winston …’
‘It would take a load off my mind having him dead, believe me. But I have enough on my conscience. He didn’t ask to be here, Randolph.’
Randolph said nothing but gave him a look that said plenty:
Neither did I, nor you, nor anyone the hell else who works here, nor any of the visitors lured here, nor the victims of what the fortune-teller does, nor, nor, nor …
Winston sighed again. ‘Just … I don’t know, warn me if they’re going to attack. Okay? Some signal. Let me know. I’ll save him myself.’
Randolph turned to leave without argument or agreement. Winston watched him go — and came very close to calling him back and telling him to go ahead and do it, go ahead and kill him. Very close.
Around three in the afternoon a letter arrived for each performer, hand-delivered by Doopy. Doopy had a hard time giving the letters to the acrobats and came away with a black eye for his efforts, which he told Gonko he got from ‘falling over, honest’ (though why he lied he wasn’t even sure himself).
The letters were invitations to Goshy’s wedding. Gonko had suggested they fast-track the event to tonight, as it was doubtful the priest would be in any shape to read vows much longer. Doopy had a hell of a time convincing Goshy this was the way to go, because (he guessed) Goshy wanted a little longer to bask in anticipation. (He was certainly not getting cold feet.) What Doopy would never tell anyone — never ever in the whole wide world, honest — was that it was
he
who put the ring on her stem.
There wasn’t much time to prepare the vows, and Doopy wasn’t all that literary-minded, so he asked Kurt Pilo real nice if the priest could do it for him. As Doopy left Kurt’s trailer he passed Shalice on her way there, and something about her body language and the smile she shot him worried him more than a black eye ever could.
‘It’s an I’m gonna get you smile,’ Doopy mumbled to himself, scratching his head. Then, straightening up in panic, he cried, ‘
It’s an I’m gonna get you smile!
’
He sprinted back to Kurt’s trailer, muttering, ‘Uh, gosh, uh, oh, gee, gosh …’ and stood with his ear to the door. Spying on the boss was a bad idea, but spying on Shalice was just fine, which resulted in an okay idea. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but Kurt’s voice carried through the trailer door clearly. ‘Are you sure it’s him?’
Silence. Then: ‘Are you positive?’
Silence. Then: ‘Well, I’d never have guessed it would be
him
. I thought it was George. Oh well. We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?’
Doopy heard footsteps approach the door and he sprinted away as fast as he could.
Who’s him?
Doopy wondered fretfully.
Him’s not me, is he?
When he got back to the clown tent he heard Goshy
making the kettle noise and soon forgot his other troubles — Goshy was upset! He ran to Goshy’s bedroom and saw his brother standing still, arms locked at his sides, the skin on his face peeled back in distressed rings. Goshy was about to scream, oh yes he was. ‘Goshy!’ Doopy whispered. ‘What
is
it? What
is
it, Goshy?’
And then he saw: the ring had fallen from his fiancée’s stem and lay on the floor. ‘Oh, Goshy!’ Doopy cried. ‘Oh, oh no! Oh noooo!’
‘HEEEEEEEE —
EEEEEEEEEE!
’ Goshy screamed, ‘HEEEEEEEE —
EEEEEEEEE!
’
‘What the bleeding Christ is that RACKET?’ Gonko roared. In Goshy’s room he saw the commotion. ‘Oh you fucking morons,’ he snapped. ‘Here.’ He picked the engagement ring up off the floor and stuffed it back on the stem.
‘Thanks, Gonko,’ Doopy called as Gonko marched off. ‘By the way, she’s gonna get him, but I don’t know who him is, but it could be us.’
‘Yeah, great,’ Gonko said over his shoulder. ‘Ever considered being a writer, Doops? Shakespeare would be jealous.’ As Gonko passed the parlour he heard Kurt’s voice calling, ‘Knock kno-
ock
!’
Shalice was standing beside him at the doorway — how curious. ‘Hey boss,’ said Gonko, frowning. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Oh, sad business,’ Kurt said, stepping inside. ‘I heard from someone —’ he nodded none too subtly at Shalice, ‘that the crystal ball thief is here in your tent.’