Chapter One

"Mr Blessing, Mr West and Mr Gordon are here."

"Ah, thank you, Thompson!" Warren Blessing sprang up from his chair and skirted his desk to greet his visitors warmly as his secretary Thompson made a discreet exit, closing the office door behind him.

"I'm glad you two could arrive so quickly, Jim, Artemus. You made good time to Denver," said the Director of Operations.

"We were already passing through Colorado on our way to San Francisco when we got word," said James West.

"Now what exactly happened?" asked his partner Artemus Gordon. "The message we got by telegraph was annoyingly brief!"

"All it told us was to report to you here at the Secret Service Academy, saying that Prof Montague is missing," added Jim.

"Yes, missing!" Artie chimed in. "But how could a thing like that happen? How does anyone misplace an entire scientist anyway? Was he kidnapped? Because he certainly isn't the type to just vanish of his own accord — or at least, I don't think he would," he added, remembering the professor's reputation for absent-mindedness.

"That's just it, Artemus: we don't know what happened. We don't know anything of what's become of the professor! He's been working on some new gadgets for the field agents…"

"As usual," put in Jim.

"Yes," Blessing nodded. "As well as training some of our more advanced students in the art of cryptography. He's been in a habit of staying quite late these past few weeks — but again, that's not unusual for him. It was three days ago that his students arrived for their morning class at nine o'clock and found his lab locked. While some of them came to inform me, a rather enterprising young fellow took the opportunity to hone his skills with a lock pick, and..." Blessing suddenly spread his hands and sighed.

"And found the lab was empty?"

"Exactly, Jim! No signs of a struggle, no clues that we could find — and believe me, we went over the place with a fine-toothed comb! — no note or message of any sort whatsoever. Just… no Montague!"

"And nothing was missing? Well, apart from Montague himself, that is," asked Artie.

Blessing shook his head. "No. Or should I say, there was nothing missing that any of us would have noticed. He may well have been working on some project that he was keeping under wraps — he often does that, you know, wanting to spring a new gadget on us as a surprise once it's ready. But if that were the case and such a project had vanished with him, we would hardly realize it."

"Hmm." Jim frowned and glanced at Artie. "Are you sure he was even in the lab that night?"

"Not entirely. Of course we did send a couple of men over to his home to see if he had perhaps fallen ill or some such thing."

"But he wasn't there either, huh?"

"Right, Artemus. No sign of him, no sign he had been at home that night at all."

"And he's been gone three days now."

"Yes." Blessing sagged into his chair, worry writ large across his face. "He's one of our best instructors, well versed in Academy protocol and methodology. He's also a brilliant scientist with the secrets to many inventions and chemical formulae buzzing around in his brain. Could he have been abducted for what he knows? Does his disappearance presage some dire disaster hanging over the collective heads of our nation? Where is he? What's become of him? Who has him, and why? And where do we even begin to look for him?"

Blessing leapt from his chair and began to pace. "Supposing, for example, that an agent of some foreign power has taken him in the hopes of extracting secrets of the workings of our own agents, or our equipment, or anything else of that sort! Prof Montague possesses a rather broad area of expertise, and while he has always striven to train our young men not to break under interrogation…" He shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not at all sure that he himself would be able to endure long under such unaccustomed stress!" The director's voice was rising higher and higher, a sure sign that he was himself drawing near to his breaking point.

The two agents exchanged glances, then moved to intercept the agitated man. "Mr Blessing, why don't come back to your desk and take a rest?" said Artie. "I'm sure you've had some very long nights with little sleep lately. Perhaps a brandy?" He settled Mr Blessing into his chair as Jim poured the drink and brought it over.

Shakily, Blessing lifted the glass to his lips. Then spilled it as a shrill whistle sounded from the speaking tube by his elbow. Suddenly furious, he snatched up the tube and demanded, "Thompson, I told you I was not to be disturbed while Mr West and Mr Gordon are here with me discussing the Montague case!"

Thompson's reply was so loud, everyone in the office heard it: "I'm sorry, sir, but the guard at the front desk just sent up word that there's a visitor for you, very urgent, and… Great Scott!"

A clatter echoed through the speaking tube, probably from it hitting the floor on the other end. For a startled moment no one moved. Then Jim took off, yanking open the door and racing down the hallway, Artie and Mr Blessing about half a second behind him.