The Night of the Dark Glasses

Chapter 1

James West Sees the Light

"What's done can't be undone" – William Shakespeare

Jim and Artie were standing by the punch-bowl at the Presidential reception for yet another foreign dignity. That sort of duty was okay; they got to wear evening dress, which especially pleased Artie, who spent so much of his time in unflattering disguises. Sometimes, if the job allowed, there was also the opportunity for dalliance, of the fleeting kind, just what Jim liked. But it didn't have the blood-quickening excitement of being on a field assignment and could, frankly, be quite boring.

Maybe that was for the best, Artie was thinking. Maybe they needed a little light work, after what they'd been through. It was less than a week since they had brought in Dr Arcularis, who was currently awaiting trial, and the whole business concerning him, and his treatment of Jim, had been preying on Artie's mind ever since.

"It still bothers me that we had to save that monster, Arcularis," Artie said. "When I think of what he did to you..."

"And to you, don't forget."

"Yes, well..," Artie replied. He still felt ashamed that he had tried to kill his partner, even though he had been forced to do it by the evil Arcularis.

After practicing on Jim, Arcularis had perfected his technique and was able to get to the stage of complete control over Artie much faster. It had been intensely agonising and harrowing. Thankfully, after he had come round from the pasting Jim had deservedly given him, he had soon become himself again and only vaguely recollected his actions. Artie was more worried about Jim, who had spent a week under the care of the mad Doctor. That conditioning had to have gone really deep.

While couples were dancing past them, Artie had been looking at his Jim but his partner had been keeping his eyes on the entrance, when he saw a matronly lady of advanced years enter the room. Suddenly, Artie saw a small derringer appear in his friend's hand and realised it was pointing in her direction. Quickly, before Jim could pull the trigger, Artie grabbed his wrist and forced the gun downwards. It went off, taking a chunk out of the polished floor, and kept firing until the chamber was empty, causing the women in the room to either gasp or shriek, depending on their proximity to the explosions.

"Jim, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Artie said, in a strangled voice, still holding tightly to his wrist as he wrenched the gun from his hand and slid it into his own pocket. Then he took in the expression on his partner's face and knew that questions were useless. It was completely blank; he didn't even know Artie was there.

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Jim had come back to his senses shortly after the shooting occurred and was now sitting on a sofa, in one of the side rooms. There was an armed guard standing nearby. The guests had been calmed down and assured there was no need for panic. The president was circulating, making sure that normality was resumed and the sound of music was drifting through from the ball room.

"What happened, Jim?" Artie asked. "Why did you try to shoot Mrs Anstruther?" Colonel Richmond was standing behind him, waiting for the answer.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I remember her entering the ball room then things went blank, from that point onwards, until I found myself being bundled in here."

"Jim," Richmond addressed him, "you've committed a federal offence. Don't you have anything to say in your defence, any explanation?"

Jim looked up at the two worried faces above his. What could he tell them? He realised the Colonel was speaking again.

"I'm not going to put you under arrest, Jim," he said. "I hope I don't come to regret this decision, but I'm going to send you back to the Wanderer with Artemus. You'll be under a form of house arrest. Get some sleep and I'll arrange for a doctor to come out and see you in the morning. Don't let me down, Jim."

"He won't, Sir," Artie answered for him. Richmond had made it clear that Jim was his responsibility, for the time being, and for the sake of his partner, he wasn't going to give the Colonel any cause to reverse his decision and put Jim in jail.

From the frown on Jim's face, he didn't agree with Richmond's decision but he didn't say anything, because he knew he'd been let off lightly, and he needed time to think and find a reason why he should have wanted to kill someone he'd never met. A period of house arrest would give him that time.

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Back at the Wanderer, Artie was making sure all the doors and windows were secure and alarmed. Jim sat on the couch and watched him, head bowed.

"I don't like doing this," Artie said, turning to him, "but what I saw back there really scared me. Your face was a complete blank. When you're in your right mind I don't think you'd try and escape from me, but I don't know what would happen if you blanked again."

"It's all right," Jim said wearily, "it's been a long night and I just want to go to bed. You can take what precautions you like."

Artie looked uneasy. "I'm glad you said that, Jim, because I'm going to have to lock you in your state room overnight."

Jim looked up at that. It was something that he hadn't considered but he knew it made sense, from his partner's point of view. However, it didn't mean he had to like it.

"You do what you have to," he said quietly. Then he got up and went to his room.

Artie followed after him and made sure to lock the door. He would have liked a long talk with his friend but he knew they were both tired and Jim needed rest more than anything at that moment. He stood by the door for a while, listening. From the sounds he heard, he concluded that Jim had simply thrown himself on the bed, without bothering to undress. Artie sighed softly. He still Jim's small derringer in his pocket and he knew he should have searched Jim's room, to make sure he didn't have any other guns in there, but he just hadn't the heart for it. He turned and made his way through the train, making sure all the other firearms aboard were safely stowed away and out of Jim's reach.

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Artie was up bright and early the next morning, so that he could unlock Jim's door before he awoke, that was if he'd gone to sleep at all. If possible, he didn't want his partner to be reminded that he was under house arrest too much. That done, he headed to the galley where he brewed a pot of coffee and prepared some scrambled eggs.

He'd finished breakfast and was catching up on some reading, or at least trying to, when Jim appeared. He was glad to see that his friend was looking rested and that he had taken the trouble to wash and shave, though he was still in his dressing-gown, as was Artie.

"Do you want me to fix you something? Artie asked.

"No, just coffee will do just fine, thanks," Jim replied, pouring himself a cup.

Artie felt bad as he noticed, for the first time, the deep bruising on his partner's wrist, where he had gripped it tightly the night before.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked.

"How do you think?" was the terse reply.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Jim," Artie said, thinking he'd hit on the reason for his friend's grumpiness.

"Don't be nice to me, Artie, we both know that, last night, if it hadn't been for you, I would have shot an innocent woman. How would you feel?"

"I guess I'd feel the same as you," Artie replied, "but if I were in your shoes, I know you'd tell me not to blame myself. Jim, this was something out of your control; you had no choice in the matter. I could see it in your face."

"That's part of the problem. I've based my whole life and career on being in control. Oh, I know I have to accept that there are certain things outside my control, that's the same for everybody but, when it comes to my actions, that's a different matter. I have to be the one making the decisions. If I'm not then it's all over for me."

Artie was worried at the turn of his partner's thoughts. "I hope you're not thinking of doing anything rash," he said.

"Don't worry, I'm going to sit here obediently and wait for the doctor to give me the once over. You never know, he might find out what's wrong with me. Trouble is, part of me wants to know but the rest is terrified of finding out."

There was a sound from outside.

"Looks like the doc's here," Artie said.

Dr Foley was well-known to the two men. This was not the first time he'd been called in to treat one or both of them.

"Hi, Doc," Jim said, opening the door, "come on in and join the party. We're having so much fun."

"Hello, James, Artemus," Dr Foley replied, removing his hat. He glanced at Artie who shook his head slightly, to indicate that he shouldn't pay any attention to Jim's sarcasm. The Doctor realised that Jim was just trying to hide his nervousness so he smiled and said "I hope I'm not too early. I thought I'd get you out of the way before I deal with my patients who are really ill. I'm sure you'll turn out to be as fit as a flea."

"Don't worry, Doctor, you're timing was just right," Artie replied.

"Come this way, Doctor," Jim said, heading toward his room.

"Or would you like a cup of coffee first?" Artie asked.

"I'm fine for the time-being," Doctor Foley replied, "perhaps later," he added, following Jim.

While the examination took place, Artie used the time to wash and dress. He paid particular attention to his facial hair, finding that the concentration needed to use the sharp razor kept his mind off current events. Then he stopped by the galley to make a fresh pot of coffee. By the time he emerged again, the Doctor had finished his examination and was waiting for him in the varnish carriage.

"Can I pour you that cup of coffee now?" Artie asked him.

"Thank you that would be most welcome."

Artie poured them both a cup. "Well, Doctor Foley, what's the matter with Jim and is it serious?" he asked.

The doctor scratched his head. "Physically, I can't find anything wrong with him, except for a nasty bruise on his right wrist, which he claims is due to an accident."

That was typical of Jim. Artie thought. "If he's all right physically, do you think there's something wrong with him mentally?"

"It's hard to tell. Although medicine has advanced a long way in the last hundred years, we still know very little about the working of the human brain. There could be some physical defect there but I could find nothing external to indicate any injury or disease."

"Have you any suggestion as to what we do next, Doctor?"

"That will be Colonel Richmond's decision, but I would recommend Jim remain here for the time being, until further investigations can be made into what caused him to blank out. Rest is probably the best medicine for him anyway."

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Artie vowed.

"I wish you luck," Dr Foley told him.

"Busily planning my future?" Jim asked, entering with an easy smile on his face. Artie knew how much it cost him. He was dressed but wore a smoking jacket, signalling the fact that he wouldn't be leaving the train any time soon.

"Nothing that should worry you," Artie reassured him, "all you need to do is make sure you get plenty of rest."

Jim's face fell, though he had expected as much.

"You'll be reporting back to Colonel Richmond?" Artie asked the Doctor.

"I'm leaving now to meet with him. No don't bother to show me out. Good-bye gentlemen," he said, remembering to put his hat on before he left.

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