THE NIGHT OF MICHELITO LOVELESS'S REVENGE
By Andamogirl
Author's notes: crossover between the Wild Wild West & Mr. Lucky. Two Ross Martins together! I just couldn't resist the temptation.
Mr. Lucky is a CBS adventure/drama television series that aired from 1959 to 1960. John Vivyan plays the title character Mr. Lucky and Ross Martin portrays Andamo. The two best friends and associates operate a floating casino aboard a luxury yacht called the Fortuna II, bringing them into contact with numerous criminals and people hiding from criminals. Lucky will change their business, later, to a floating restaurant.
Post series and post second TV movie 'More Wild Wild West'. Our two heroes are older (but not old) and Jim still has his moustache.
References to the following episodes "The Night of the Surreal McCoy", "The Night of the Lord Of Limbo", "The Night of the Assassin" and "The Night That Terror Stalked The Town."
Reference to Mr. Lucky first episode (pilot), "The Magnificent Bribe".
Warning: graphic violence & temporary major characters death.
Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.
TEASER
WWW
Somewhere in the Painted Desert, Arizona, July 7, 1890
Looking around him, Special Agent Artemus Gordon of the US Secret Service removed his hat to wipe his sweat-soaked forehead with the sleeve of his blue jacket.
He used it to fan himself for a moment; lifted his hand to bar the light from his squinted eyes and grimaced. The blistering sun was beating down on a seemingly endless red-sand-desert which stretched to the horizon, around him.
There was nothing here, just rocks, hardy shrubs, clumps of dry grasses, dust and the barren rough mountains, striped in all shades of ocher, indistinct in the hazy distance, their shape quivering in the harsh, oppressive heat.
He fanned his face with one hand and then ran it through his messy sweat-dampened curls before putting his light-gray Stetson back on his head.
He took a few small sips of tepid water from his canteen, moistening his parched throat. Then he hung it back on the saddle and softly patted the neck of his Cheyenne horse called Vovó'hasé'haméhe (Spotted Horse in Cheyenne language), the gelding standing, like him, in the almost-non-existent shade of a clump of stunted trees, barely protecting them from the implacable sun.
Even the horse was drenched.
He sighed tugging at the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned it a bit more. "It's this kind of mission that makes me regret having rejoined the Secret Service, Vo - this place is a furnace! And I'm too old to wander in the desert, babysitting an archeologist and keeping an eye on the men he hired without knowing anything about them…"He sighed. "But it's my assignment, and I have to fulfill it," he said with a tired smile.
The Spotted Blanket Appaloosa horse bobbed his head up and down as if he understood and agreed and rubbed his muzzle against his master's chest in affection.
His boots covered with red ocher sand, Artemus headed toward a group of boulders thinking about enjoying a big cool glass of water with pieces of ice floating on top.
Moistening his chapped lips with his tongue, he joined Professor Steven Hawkins of the Washington Archaeological Museum, dressed in immaculate white from head to toe ("white clothes repel heat and keep away the danger of heatstroke" he loved to say), , sitting in the shade there, hiding from the implacable sun, reading a thick book.
The younger man leading the archaeological expedition was looking at an engraving, lost in the middle of a paragraph, he noticed. It represented a statue of a god, half-human, and half-bird of prey, placed on a high pedestal, resting against a wall. Intrigued, he knelt beside the archaeologist and head cocked to one side, he asked, "What is it, professor?"
Hawkins smiled and replied, "It's the statue of Otepek, Mr. Gordon. Otepek was the god of Family and Ancestors for the Kep'laas, a tribe who lived in the region about 2000 years ago. It's the only drawing of it – and I don't know if it really looks like that or what its size is. We'll see it for ourselves later, when we find it. No one knows where that drawing comes from either." He glanced at the engraving of the divinity again and added, "And we don't know many things about the god. We only know that, if a member of the tribe wanted to talk to one of his ancestors, to seek advice for example, he or she had to come to the temple, to the Sacred Chamber. Then, once there he or she had to pronounce the god's name three times." He paused to pull out a kerchief from the right pocket of his dusty jacket and used it to mop his damp forehead. Then he continued, "The god then left the stars where he lived with the other gods and goddesses to 'inhabit' his statue, during the time it took for the request. Then, when the person had obtained satisfaction, the god went back 'home'." He placed his kerchief back where it had been and added, "Otepek could allow people to travel back in time to talk directly to their ancestors." He looked at the older man again, noticing that the federal agent was clearly skeptical. He smiled. "But before granting a man or a woman to travel backward into the past, the god read his or her mind, knowing instantly everything about him or her. If he was a good man, he could go, same thing with a woman, and if he or she wasn't, they weren't allowed to go."
Standing up, because his right knee hurt, Artie said, "probably to ensure that a 'bad man' or a 'bad woman' does no evil deed which could change the past, thus modifying the future."
Hawkins nodded. "It's not specified in the book, but it's sound logic, yes. Then the voyage back in time would begin," he said.
Rubbing his stubbled and itching chin pensively Artemus asked, "What happened when the time traveler wanted to go back home?"
Hawkins replied, "That's simple. Otepek brought the traveler back when he sensed that he or she was ready to go home. He was a god! Gods were omnipotent!"
His brain still in scientific mode Artemus lifted an eyebrow and adopted a quizzical smile. "You're talking about time travel, professor. I don't think it's possible." He furrowed his brow as he suddenly remembered him and Jim being transported into the past – multiple times - by Colonel Vautrain. "Forget what I said, No, it is possible to travel in time."
Hawkins was surprised. "What made you change your mind so rapidly?"
Unconsciously touching his shoulder where he had been hit when Colonel Vautrain had shot him, Artie said, "It's a long story… and it's classified."
Professor Hawkins continued. "With Otepek's help it was possible to travel in time, but only backward to meet ancestors, not ahead into the future."
Pointing at the top of a hill covered with rock formations, stunted creosote bushes and Joshua Trees, visible shimmering waves of heat rising off of it in the heavy air, Artie asked, "Are you sure the temple of Otepek is up there?"
Prof. Hawkins nodded. "Oh yes! But with time the entrance has been covered with sand, rocks and bushes. But it's here, and we'll find it." He pulled out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket. He unfolded it on his knees and added, "I consulted a very ancient map before I came here and it indicates the place, exactly. This is a copy of it. The statue is inside that temple, I'm sure. That's why we came here, Mr. Gordon, to find it. I want to bring it back with me to Washington." He beamed. 'It will be the pièce majeure of the exhibition about the Ancient lost civilizations which will take place in September at the Archaeological Museum."
Sweat dripping off his forehead, Artie, wiped it again with the back of his hand this time. "I wouldn't want to be a bird of ill omen Professor, but… if this place is known; perhaps the temple was plundered a long time ago and the statue stolen by looters."
Hawkins shook his head. "I seriously doubt it. 150 years ago a hermit living in the vicinity found the temple of Otepek – with its door intact, the seals intact too - and drew a map of it. When his body was found by travelers, or what was left of it, they found the map on the body but didn't pay attention to it. Everyone in the region knew that the old man was crazy and that map was certainly worthless, a delusion. They took it anyway and moved ahead. It somehow ended up in a library in Baltimore, where I found it accidentally a month ago. It had slid down between two bookshelves and was long forgotten." He pocketed his map.
Intrigued Artie frowned. "Seals?"
The archaeologist nodded. "Yes, seals. I suppose that the temple was guarded by priests who put seals on the door after each visitor was gone, to protect the statue. The legend tells that it's a solid gold statue."
His sixth sense sounding alarm bells in his head, Artie said, "That temple is probably booby-trapped, professor. A lot of 'lost' temples are. That explains why they are lost. No one was left alive – or they died shortly after, before they could say anything about them."
Prof. Hawkins looked up at the top of the mountain. "That's why you're here, Mr. Gordon. If this temple is booby-trapped, you will find the traps meant to harm or kill people and neutralize them, to protect me – I mean protect all of us, that's part of your job, isn't it?" then he glanced up at the older man standing in front of him and smiled in sympathy. "It's not going to be easy for you to get up there…"
Feeling offended, Artemus scowled and pursed his lips. "I may not be a young man anymore but I'm perfectly capable of climbing up there, Professor." Irritated he added, "If I was unable to carry out this mission, the President would never have sent me here!"
He headed back toward Vovó'hasé'haméhe while thinking, 'Face it, Artemus, you are an old man… Deny it all you want, it won't change the fact that you are 60 and have arthritis in your right knee… And you have more years behind you than ahead of you, old boy…' And on top of that the burning sun was sapping his energy. 'I hate deserts, I hate heat,' he added in his mind.
He stopped and heaved a long sigh. He looked at the top of the mountain outlined on the deep blue sky, crisp and clear and shook his head. "It's not going to be a walk in the park to get up there…" he let out.
He removed his loosened tie, sliding in the pocket of damp pants and removed his suit jacket, dropping it across Vo's hot saddle.
Lowering his gaze, he glanced at the group of men of all ages sitting and chatting a little further away next to motionless tumbleweed, in the rare shade of a group of twisted and skinny trees.
Rolling up his sleeves, he continued to muse: Hawkins had recruited those burly men in a saloon to help him carry his equipment and to help him to clear the temple of everything that had accumulated over time, sand, bushes, etc. hiding it completely. He had told them that he wanted to find the temple of Otepek, a divinity from an obscure tribe that lived 2000 years ago in the Painted Desert. They had eagerly pocketed the offered 100 dollars, their eyes glittering with greed, thinking that an ancient lost temple usually meant 'mountains' of gold, jewelry and precious stones.
He was convinced that they would try to steal all these treasures if they existed, or if they did not exist, the statue of Otepek.
If it was there of course.
In any case, he was sure they would try to get rid of unwanted witnesses, Hawkins and him. He had to be very careful and keep watching them to avoid the worst: their demise.
Feeling the sweat drip down his back, he glanced at the archaeologist, reading his book again, and continued his musing: Hawkins was the son of an old friend of President Benjamin Harrison – and the President had sent him here as an escort to protect the Professor – alone, Jim being on another assignment in Denver.
He sighed and dried his palm on his blue pants. 'And he'll need protection. If there's effectively gold, jewelry and precious stones inside the temple, those men over there wouldn't hesitate to kill Hawkins and him too… "Unless we all die before reaching the Sacred chamber," he said.
He shivered but not with cold.
Tbc.