Time Trapped by Richard Ungar

inspection.
    â€œVery well,” says Uncle after a moment. “Lydia, how did he manage it?”
    â€œHoudini must have hid a key somewhere on him,” Lydia says. “When he was underwater, he managed to pick the locks, untie himself and break out of the crate.”
    â€œAnd the boy?”
    â€œThe boy must have lifted the wallet when he was dabbing at the mustard stain on the man’s pants.”
    â€œYet Houdini was subject to a full body search before the restraints were placed on him. And similarly, the boy was searched from head to toe. Neither search turned up anything. How could that be . . . Caleb?”
    I look up at Uncle, and we lock eyes. My heart is hammering. It isn’t lost on me that this is the first time he’s spoken directly to me since I escaped with Zach.
    â€œThe boy must have slipped the wallet to his mother before he was searched,” I say.
    â€œYet when his mother’s handbag was searched, no wallet was found,” says Uncle.
    He’s got me there and he knows it. A smile plays at the corner of his lips.
    â€œAnd Houdini?” continues Uncle. “How did he manage his escape from the restraints?”
    â€œHe had a key hidden on him,” I say, repeating what Lydia had said. “It was so well hidden that they didn’t find it when they searched him.”
    Uncle shakes his head.
    â€œThe key to Houdini’s escape was an event that by its ordinariness went unnoticed by all of you,” says Uncle. “Similarly, the snatch of the man’s wallet was masked by an event that appeared quite normal.”
    He pauses for a moment, perhaps waiting to see if anyone will guess. But there are no takers.
    We’ve all failed miserably. Everyone is looking at the ground, except for Frank. He’s smirking and looking out over the water as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Well, he’s a fool to be so relaxed. Because there’s no way Uncle is going to let this one go by. One of the first lessons he taught us when we were small was how important it was to be aware of our surroundings. And not one of us got it right today. In my mind’s eye, I see Uncle nodding to Luca, then Luca tying us up, strapping on some of Houdini’s iron weights and throwing us into the East River, one by one. He’ll probably do it in reverse order of how we came here, which means I’ll be the lucky one to go first.
    â€œNo one?” says Uncle. “All right, I will tell you. First, the boy. When he was frisked, the wallet could not be found because he had already passed it off to his mother, who had safely disposed of the wallet to the hot dog vendor as she passed by his cart.
    â€œAs for Houdini,” Uncle continues, “some of you may recall that a woman stepped up and kissed him on the lips moments after he had been searched but before he got into the crate. When they kissed, the woman passed a skeleton key from her mouth to Houdini’s. Once out of sight in the crate, he gripped the key in his teeth to undo the locks on his hands and then used his hands to free himself.”
    I never would have guessed that in a million years.
    â€œYou should all have seen these things. There is no excuse. This is not the first time I have spoken of the power of intelligent observation, of not accepting without question what your eyes are telling you has taken place, of seeing with your mind.”
    My eyes flick to Luca. Any moment now, Uncle is going to give him the signal. I find myself holding my breath, which is a stupid thing to do, because I should save that for when he throws me in the water. Not that it will make much difference, though. Assuming he does a half-decent job tying me up, I’ll never be able to hold my breath long enough to break free.
    â€œSoon you will all have new recruits to train,” Uncle says. “And I want you to teach them intelligent observation. It will be the key to their