AntipodeanSF - "Now You See Me" by Brent Lillie

After 'The Jam Jar' won the Aurealis Millenium Short Story Competition in 2000, Brent Lillie suddenly found himself internationally recognised as the master of the 'short, short', the 'short, short, short' and the 'short, short, short, shorty-short short short'.
In 2003 he won the Nebula for science-fiction stories of only just one word but perhaps his greatest achievement was 'Q', a single-letter Brevity Award winner which judges described as 'very well-rounded, with a nice little twist in the tail'.
Following this, Brent fell into a period of deep depression after realising that the shorter the story, the longer the description. You try it. Not even 'Short', 'Shorter' and 'Shortest' works!
Some say he emerged an even better writer, apart from a tendency to wander off the subject and his wife just bought him a new pair of ugh boots.
Thanks to the unwavering support of family and friends and the help of mental health experts, Brent is now writing longer stories again. 'Now You See Me' is his latest effort.

Aston had agreed to a meeting after his show at the casino's Fontana Room.

A private audience in the luxurious suite of the world's foremost illusionist? No. Coffee in an out-of-the-way booth in one of the establishment's many cafes would have to do. It was actually preferable, Collins surmised — there was no way of telling how Aston would react to his theory.

Paul Collins was a professional debunker. Hate mail and death threats were all in a day's work. As a matter of fact, the targets of his exposés were not the ones he feared the most. It was the fans and followers who fell for the tripe the charlatans fed them who posed the biggest threat.

Aston was waiting for him at a booth at the rear of the café. The two men had not met before, but obviously knew each other by reputation. Aston rose and proffered a hand.

"Mr Collins. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. And please, call me Paul."

The illusionist took a sip of what looked to be a freshly-squeezed glass of fruit juice and crushed ice.

"Non-alcoholic buzz. I can recommend it."

A waitress appeared.

"Coffee's fine. Flat white, thanks."

"And you may call me Harry. You know, I'm a great fan of yours, Paul. I've seen you on TV scores of times, tearing those poor bastards to pieces. You may not believe it, but I love it. Great entertainment."

"Thank you," Collins replied. "You're not concerned at all about why I requested this personal meeting?"

"Concerned? No. Though I must admit, I'm curious. I'm a simple illusionist. You're a debunker, and not the type to go about exposing magic tricks. That would seem to be beneath you."

"No, I'm not here to reveal the tricks of your trade," Collins admitted. "Would you like me to come to the point?"

"The point being that you believe I have actually mastered the occult arts and put on my little shows as a cover, to hide in plain sight. I'm also aware that you have proof and plan to expose me."

It was as though someone had struck a noiseless gong. A mixture of joy, fear and raw exultation hit Paul Collins like a pressure wave

"You didn't know I could read minds, as well, did you? But only in close proximity, which is why I agreed to our get-together." Aston bit down gently on his bottom lip. "But why, Paul? Why this meeting?" Aston's eyes momentarily narrowed, then he smiled. "Of course. All those years of debunking — you were simply searching for the genuine article! Well, I'm happy to say you've found it. And just between us, there's another reason I wanted you in close proximity..."

Five seconds later, the waitress appeared.

"Your friend who ordered the coffee...?"

"He had to rush off."

No cameras scanned this section of the cafe. Not that it would have mattered anyway.