THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN

By Andamogirl

Author's note: season 4. This story takes place before "The Night of Miguelito's Revenge" (an Artie-less episode as he is on his way to Washington).

References to the following WWW episodes: "The night of the Gypsy Peril", "The Night of the Simian Terror", "The night of the Sedgewick Curse" and "The night of the Two-Legged Buffalo."

I love Voltaire so he's back in this story, even if he 'disappeared' after the end of the 1st season.

Reference to my story "The Night of the Outlaw." This story comes after my other story called "The Night of The Lost World".

In this story, Artemus is offered a special assignment in Washington, but it's not the one we hear about in The Night of Miguelito's Revenge". But I explain why he'll be chosen to go to the Capital in that episode.

Dr. Loveless: (posing as a ventriloquist's dummy) I must tell you about my friend West.

Tiny: Why, what about him?

Dr. Loveless: I went to his funeral the other day. There was no one there.

Tiny: Yeah, how come?

Dr. Loveless: He wanted to keep it a secret service.

Dr. Loveless: Ah, at long last you are here. Of course, Mr. West, there is something of the salmon in you. The fiercer, the more impossible the cataracts that face you, the more furiously you swim through them to win your goal.

The Night of Miguelito's revenge

Warning: violence. Angst. Nudity (the boys bathe in a hot spring and then in a mud bath).

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

WWW

TEASER

Washington D.C.

The Wanderer

Artemus Gordon's lab (and dressing room)

Running his hand across his jaw, thoughtfully, Jim West said, "I don't know… there's something wrong with your disguise Artie, but I can't just put my finger on it."

Unsatisfied by his 'old rich Lady's' look Artemus Gordon looked again at his reflection in the mirror – or rather, at her reflection as he was disguised as an old woman, he mused. "Perhaps it's the dress? It's an old one, but the only one I found appropriate for the role. I ran out of emerald green silk fabric for the new one I'm sewing, so I had to stop. I wanted an elegant emerald green dress with white lace and ribbons to go with my character… as I didn't have one. This dress I'm wearing is dark blue and simple with just black lace on the sleeves; as you can see… I don't look like a rich old woman in it. But I don't have any other choice. My other dresses are too brightly colored and more adapted to younger characters." He sighed. "I need to buy new dresses for my female disguises wardrobe. I know a place in Washington where the tailors – friends of mine - design the most beautiful dresses in the country."

He raised his arm and touched his grayish ponytailed wig. He winced and suppressed a grunt of pain. That big ape had almost crushed him and cracked two of his ribs three days ago, he recalled. Dr. Von Liebig had tightly bandaged his chest with compression wraps to help splint and immobilize the area, but they still hurt like hell every time he breathed, bent and twisted his body, he thought. 'My breathing is regular though, so there is no damage to my lungs…'

He rubbed his chin pensively. "Perhaps it's the wig too? I should change it for a white one, but I don't want to look that old, no. I want my character to be an active old woman." He touched his aching ribs and continued, "This damn corset is killing me! It is too tight!"

Furrowing his brow, Jim proposed, "Do you want me to loosen the laces of your corset?"

Eyes glistening with mischief, Artie chuckled softly, "No, thanks, and I'm sure you're an expert in that domain. You have had a lot of practice."

Jim grinned. "You too buddy, you too."

Cupping his faux breasts, Artie proposed, "Oh! I know, maybe it's my faux bust? Maybe it's too high? Or it's my makeup. It's maybe too bland, what do you think? I could put some rouge on my lips instead of the light rose I chose…"

He heard a soft meow and looked down at his feet. Aztec was there, sitting on her haunches, her tail wrapped around her tiny body, blinking up at him. "Aztec! There you are my little girl."

He smiled and scooped up the kitten in one hand onto his lap. "Hello Aztec. Where have you been my little girl? I searched for you all morning."

Petting the mini cat's head and eliciting happy purrs, Jim said, "I know that she loves hiding in the hay of the stable car. She was probably there and that's why you didn't find her."

Settling the kitten on the table, in front of him, between two open boxes of makeup, Artemus leaned toward Aztec and waved a stern finger at the baby British shorthair. "Don't go in the stable car, Aztec, it's dangerous. Mo, Lockpick and Blackjack are gentle horses but they could kill you, you're so small they could trample you without seeing you …" While Aztec swiped a sandpapery tongue against his callused thumb, he looked again at his face reflected in the mirror, "So, Jim, rouge or rose?"

Playing with the kitten's tail, Jim responded, "Rose, not rouge. Rouge is the right color for saloon girls or French cancan dancing girls, not old women like your character - Although I would love to see you dance the French cancan on a stage with a feather boa around your neck ... You would be great!"

Glancing at Jim Artie smiled. "I'd like that. Maybe one day, who knows?" He said, enchanted with this idea. "I love being on a stage. I I can dance any dance you know? It's too bad you didn't meet Isabelle Ferret in New Orleans before she left for Shrevport, Louisiana to open a dance school. I met her when I was posted there… That was after the war, when we worked for the Secret Service, but not together. You would have loved her. She was a lovely woman, intelligent, talented… She died two years ago during the yellow fever epidemic in Louisiana, and I miss her. She was a good friend." His chocolate eyes briefly clouded with grief, then, preferring good thoughts to bad ones, he added, "She was a French dance teacher who had directed shows in Parisian cabarets. I spent three days with her before I started my mission. She taught me many types of dances, like the Argentinian tango, the Spanish Flamenco and the French Cancan…" He smiled, "And I was wearing a dress… "

Pressing Artie's shoulder in a gesture of compassion, Jim said, "I'm sorry she died." He paused letting his best friend close the door on his memories. Then, when he saw Artie inch toward the kitten and kiss Aztec's tiny rose nose, he added, "You need to infiltrate a rest home for old people to find an assassin hiding there, so no rouge. Your makeup is perfect for the role you're going to play." He suddenly snapped his fingers twice. "I know what's wrong, you don't have any jewelry, no necklaces, no earrings, no brooch, and no rings… You're supposed to be a very rich woman, Artie. You look like an old countryside granny like this."

Realizing that too, Artie nodded. "You're right. Jewelry! That's what's missing." He opened his cupboard and pulled out a case. He opened it revealing necklaces, earrings, bracelets, with precious stones and white and black pearls. "You see? I'm very rich!" And he grinned.

Immediately Jim took a gold ring topped with a very good imitation of a big diamond. He frowned and waved a stern finger. "You know Artie, as a Federal agent I could arrest you for having fake jewels. It's forbidden by the law, it's a federal offense."

Looking back at the 'old lady' in the mirror, Artie smiled. "I declared them to the US Treasury as part of my much needed clothing and accessories. I am a legitimate owner of faux jewelry." He wrapped a pearl necklace with three rows around his neck, clipped matching earrings in his ears and slid a big sapphire ring on each of his middle fingers. "And voilà!"

Nodding, Jim looked down at his partner's shoes. He wore low-heeled boots. "What? No high heels?"

Following his partner's gaze, Artie looked down at his feet. "No, it's all I've got. I need to buy new shoes too. Besides, saloon girls wear high-heels, not old ladies. In fact I need to refurbish all my female disguises." He sighed. "I broke my last pair of high-heeled shoes the last time I ran after Louis Ferguson in San Francisco. My heels broke, I twisted my ankle, fell, he escaped and I ended up in the hospital. And my yellow flowery dress was ruined because I landed in a pool of mud."

Smiling, Jim ran his fingers through Aztec's fur and she purred in response. "And the doctors and nurses were very surprised to discover that the lovely red-haired and muddy woman wearing an equally muddy dress with a twisted ankle - was actually a man."

Chuckling Artemus looked up at Jim. "That was after two doctors and a male nurse offered to buy me dinner and take me to the theater after taking care of me. I was quite a success."

Pulling a Derringer out of the inside pocket of his bolero jacket Jim gave a short laugh. "I suppose you took it as a compliment?" He became suddenly very serious and placed the small gun in Artemus's hand. "The man hiding there killed Senator Peterson and three cavalry officers in cold blood. You need to be very careful Artie."

Closing his fingers around the easily-concealed firearm Artie nodded. "I will." He leaned forward to place the Derringer in the holster strapped beneath his knee. "I had to shave my legs and arms; there are no little sacrifices…Ow! Oh, no…," he breathed as he felt a splitting headache numb his brain. He had a sudden dizzy spell and crumpled to his knees, seeing a flash in front of his eyes. Blackness engulfed him shortly after and he slumped on his side, barely conscious.

Frowning in concern, Jim dragged Artie to his bed, maneuvered him on top of it and took his pulse: it was rapid and erratic. He noticed then that his breathe was ragged as if he had run several miles. "Don't move Artie, take it easy, it will pass."

Artie rubbed his head where he had been hit two weeks ago, grimacing in pain. "I know… Senator Buckley hit me pretty hard with his cane, and I got a very bad concussion…"

His brow furrowed in worry, Jim nodded. "And dizzy spells since that time and even bouts of unconsciousness from time to time. Artie, we should postpone this mission. You're not in tip-top condition. President Grant will understand. Let me send a telegram to Colonel Richmond."

Hearing the kitten mewl in worry, Jim scooped up Aztec and settled the kitten on Artemus's lap; finger gently rubbing under the small feline's chin to soothe it.

Pulling Aztec close, on his chest, Artemus waved his free hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can do it. It's a very bad idea to let the President know about my current situation. He's worse than my mother. If I do that, I will end up in Dr. Henderson's hands for a week! And he'll visit me ten times a day to see if I'm okay. That's a bad, bad idea! We have to capture this assassin before he leaves his hiding place." He paused to gently rub between the kitten's tiny ears and Aztec purred." It was pure chance that a witness to the crime saw him enter the rest home after he murdered those four men. Hopefully, the assassin didn't see him, or he would be dead too, so he doesn't know that we know where he is. When he realizes that the police are not searching for him – because the President gave that mission to us – he'll feel safe and he'll leave. There's no time to lose." He offered his partner a reassuring smile. "I'm going to be alright." He brought the kitten out in front of his face and brushed his very small whiskers, and in response, the kitten licked his nose. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling his headache receding a little.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jim's frown increased. "You're not alright, Artie. You were half dead three days ago. It's not only that Senator Buckley hit you on your head, hard, breaking your skull or almost, but that gigantic monkey broke some of your ribs."

Petting the kitten's back, Artemus replied, "Half dead? You're exaggerating. I'm fine, Jim. Really. The doctor told me I'll have dizzy spells for a month or so. I'm not going to sit and read books for that long and let you do the missions alone. I just need to sleep a little… You worry far too much."

Frowning, Jim retorted, "One of us has to. You were… " He didn't finish his sentence as he watched Artemus going limp and close his eyes.

His head rolled to one side. He had passed out again. Aztec mewled in distress and started to lick her owner's slack face.

WWW

Later, in the parlor suite

The Derringer holstered beneath his petticoat Artemus Gordon sat at the table and poured himself a full cup of coffee to which he added a little brandy.

He looked at his partner. Jim was still worried about him. "I'm fine Jim," don't worry about me," he said with a reassuring smile. He raised his cup. "To the success of the mission." Then he took a sip, set the cup beside his plate and started to wolf down the dozen pancakes piled on it.

Relaxing a bit Jim noticed, "It doesn't lessen your appetite."

Pouring caramel over them, Artie shook his head. "Nothing can make me lose my appetite, Jim. Like my mother always likes to tell me, 'Artemus, you're a walking stomach'."

Lowering his eyes to the file opened between the pot of freshly brewed coffee and the jug of milk, Jim read it again. "Mmm… The description of the man is very sparse: young, tall, broad back and shoulders, short dark hair, left handed, big hands…" He finished his coffee and added. "As he's not an old man, he's probably hiding amongst the personnel of the resting home."

Artemus smiled and using the voice of an old woman he said, "Good deduction, Mr. West. But old women like me love to be taken care of by such young, solid and broad shouldered men…" then using his own baritone voice he added, "I will find him."

Jim chuckled. "You know, after all these years at your side, I'm still amazed by how easy it is for you to use any kind of voice – male or female, young or old, and a large variety of different accents. Tell me, what name did you choose for your character? And what is your story?"

Artie spread a thick layer of marmalade on some toast and taking on an old southern lady's accent said, "My name is Artemis McGordon. I lost my husband Arthur two months ago. He was much older than me but he left me with his gambling debts. I had to sell the family mansion in Virginia to repay them. I had enough money left to come to the Oak Manor Resting home and live there, peacefully and pampered till the end of my life. I have no children, just a very helpful nephew, called James North' - and he looks exactly like you!" He bit into his toast and added with his mouth full, "He's helpful because he thinks he's going to inherit my money. But I'm not going to leave him a single dollar! He was very mean to me once… I never forgot it."

Pouring himself a second cup of coffee Jim grinned in admiration. "Ah! Artie! You're priceless!" Then he added one lump of sugar to it.

He heard AG meowing up at him and looked down to see his cat rub along his leg and between them, its long tail curling around his calf.

He reached down to stroke over the black cat soft fur, receiving purrs and soft head-butts from the fluffy feline. He poured a little milk into a saucer and lowered it to the carpeted floor. AG immediately started to lap the creamy liquid.

Glancing around him, trying to spot his two felines, a bit worried, Artemus said, "I'm wondering where Aztec and Marmalade are. I hope Aztec is not in the stable car…"

He saw Jim point his finger toward the door and heard him say, "They're here."

Pivoting in his chair, Artemus sighed in relief when Marmie entered the room pushing Aztec in front of her with her head.

The kitten was covered with spider webs and dust bunnies.

He frowned adopting a severe air. "Where have you been little girl?" he asked the mini cat. He picked up the little kitten, wrapping hands around its soft belly and plopped it on the table. As a response Aztec simply licked the side of her face with a tiny pink tongue, purring contentedly. Then, she sat back beside her owner's plate and began to meticulously groom her fur.

Smiling Jim said, "Aztec likes exploring her environment, all the darkest and most inaccessible places especially, but Marmalade is not very far away, keeping an eye on her protégée…"

Looking down at Marmalade Artie saw her stretching, arching her back and flexing her claws. "Good job, Marmie," he said.

Marmalade meowed loudly in pleasure.

WWW

Oak Manor Rest Home, later

Holding a heavy bag with one hand James North (James West) opened the door of his 'aunt's' room with the other one and cast a quick glance inside. "It's lovely, Aunt Artemis," he said. He moved aside to let Artemis McGordon (Artemus Gordon) enter her new home. "What do you think?"

Mrs. McGordon removed her pince-nez glasses and took a look around her. The vast suite had a living room, a small dining room and an adjoining room which had to be the bedroom and with a small bathroom. The walls, the curtains and the carpets were in shades of green and gold. The furniture was dark, carved and adorned here and there with sculpted parts in bronze. "Mmm… it's not bad."

Mr. Jones the Director of the rest home said, "I'm glad you like it Mrs. McGordon. It's the most elegant suite in the house and it's very calm. The windows open onto the park."

Mrs. McGordon pointed at the table. "Put my bag there, James, and be careful my boy, I have fragile souvenirs in that bag." She turned towards the Director. "I read your brochure thoroughly. It gives a long list of activities, like croquet and that new game called badminton, and what I love the most is to have a massage and enjoy then a nice session in the steam room. But I'd like to choose the people doing it. I like strong men, with powerful arms and big hands…"

Jim did his best not to smile. 'Good idea Artie', he thought.

Mr. Jones was chocked and he blushed with embarrassment. "Of course Mrs. McGordon… I can present you to the massage staff. What about tonight, at 0900? There's a session of massage scheduled for the residents at 0915."

Mrs. McGordon smiled. "Excellent, add my name to the list. Now I'd like to be alone with my nephew, if you please. Oh! And don't forget to have all my trunks carried here."

Mr. Jones nodded. "Of course, Mrs. McGordon. I will see you later. Goodbye Mr. North. Our visiting hours will be over at 1800."

James North smiled pleasantly. "Don't worry, I'll leave before that, Mr. Jones. Thank you and goodbye." Then he closed the door and looked at Artemus. He was observing his reflection in a mirror, checking if everything was okay, wig and make-up. "It's a good idea you had about wanting to see the massage staff. So, you think that the assassin is a member of the massage team?"

Sitting on a chair, Artie nodded. "And recently hired I'm sure. With hands like he has… he has to be a very good masseur."

Leaning against the wall, Jim crossed his arms on his chest and said. "And a very good assassin too, don't forget that Artie. It's a good idea to spot him, but you forgot something though. If you let him massage you, he'll know that you are not really a woman. You can hide certain male attributes…"

Artemus chuckled. "I know that. Don't worry, I'll have only my feet and calves massaged nothing more. Besides, women stay clothed during a massage, unlike men, revealing the strict minimum. Oh! I'll hide my gun in my gown, in my false breasts." He stretched like a cat. "I haven't enjoyed a good massage since the last one I had in the Sedgewick hotel and Spa. Do you remember that mission, Jim? The Sedgewick sister and brother were aging rapidly. They were old and useless before 40. Dr. Maitland was doing experiments on people to find a cure for that illness. He almost injected me with his drug."

Moving closer to his best friend, Jim sat on the edge of the table. "Yes, I remember. And I remember that you told me that you almost died in that steam room, steam cooked." He smiled and added, "But, what I remember the most about that mission is your extraordinary talent as a ventriloquist. By the way, where is your marionette? I haven't seen you with 'Chester' for weeks."

Mrs. McGordon nodded and using the voice of an old woman, he replied, "I gave Chester to a ventriloquist in Denver in exchange for books on magic he possessed," Artie said. "They are good books. I learned lots of tricks. I could be a professional magician if I wanted to."

Jim nodded. "You showed your talents as a magician in Zoe's gypsy troupe. Even the resident magician was amazed by your tricks."

Artie smiled. "Yes, I remember. But as I miss using my talent as a ventriloquist, I created Foxy. It's a sock –puppet that looks like a fox with pointy, upright triangular ears, a pointed, slightly upturned snout, and a long bushy tail. He has googly eyes made with buttons and a red mini bandana around its neck. Once we're back in the train I'll give you a private performance."

The clock suddenly struck six times. "It's time for you to leave Jim. But I'm sure you won't be far." He stood up and went to the door. He opened it, and becoming Mrs. McGordon again he said, "Thank you for your help, Jim my boy. See you on Saturday."

Jim nodded. "See you on Saturday Aunt Artemis. Enjoy your massage session." Then he left, meeting two nurses in the corridor. He smiled. "Ladies."

WWW

Later in the massage room

Holding her pince-nez glasses close to her face, Mrs. Artemis McGordon observed the six men standing against the wall closely. 'Damn!' she thought. All of them were tall, young, had broad backs and shoulders, short dark hair and big hands. 'Let's see if one of them is left-handed…' "Could you lift your hand please?" she asked and saw a man lift his left hand. She looked at him even more closely and said, "I'm choosing you, young man. You have such big hands…"

Mr. Jones standing beside the door nodded. "Robert, you will take care of Mrs. McGordon. Do remember what I told you." Robert nodded. Mr. Jones added, "Robert applied for this job recently. I hired him immediately because he has powerful hands and the physique to be a masseur. You will be his third client. The two others are delighted with his services."

Mrs. McGordon smiled. 'Good pick! You found him, Artie.' "Oh I'm sure I'll be delighted with his services too, Mr. Jones."

The Director smiled. "There's a changing room here, behind you. The session will start in 5 minutes. I'll see you later, Mrs. McGordon." Then he left the room.

Mrs. McGordon turned toward the man – the assassin. "I just need time to prepare myself." Then she entered the changing room.

Artemus Gordon pulled his Derringer out from his décolleté and took his clothes off, except the petticoat and slipped on a long white gown he had found on a hanger. He slid the small gun up his left sleeve and re-entered the massage room, smiling. "Ah! Young man, I hope you will be gentle with me, I'm an old woman and my bones are fragile and I have a very delicate skin."

Robert nodded. "Don't worry Mrs. McGordon; I'm going to give you a gentle massage. Please lie down on the table and tell me what you want."

Suddenly Artemus Gordon pulled his Derringer out from his sleeve and pointed it at the other man who froze, stunned. "I want you to raise your hands and move to the wall, where you will keep them in sight. Move!" he commanded with his own baritone voice, before removing his wig which he dropped to the floor. "Don't do anything, or I'll shoot you."

Robert more than astonished complied, and then once he had his hands flat on the wall, he realized that Mrs. McGordon was in fact a man disguised as an old woman. "Let me guess, you're an agent of the Secret Service. Good disguise."

Ignoring the assassin's remark, Artie focused on staying conscious. He had a terrible headache and he was having a new dizzy spell. Black points dotted his graying vision. "No, no, not now…" he whispered feeling his knees going weak.

Robert saw that the agent was on the verge of passing out (and didn't care why) from the corner of his eye and knew that the other man's reflexes would be slowed down… He slowly moved his left hand closer to the lever activating the release of the steam, and suddenly lowered it.

Powerful jets of steam were released and clouds of hot, blinding mist invaded the room in a matter of seconds.

Immediately Artie fired as an automatic response. He missed the assassin, the bullet hitting the blue tiled wall but the detonation made him jump and prevented him from fainting.

Glancing around him, Artemus tried to locate the other man, but he couldn't see anything. The hot steam billowing and spiraling everywhere was thicker than fog. "Damn!" he said. A shiver ran along his spine despite sweat dripping from his face.

He gasped in surprise as he felt a strong hand close around his wrist, almost breaking it. Then he cried out in pain and dropped his gun.

He tried to push the assassin away from him but a well-placed punch to his stomach sent him to his knees his face scrunched up in pain, making his eyes water. He managed to take some breaths between harsh coughs. His vision grayed again and he felt a rush of bitter acid flood his mouth before swallowing it.

He cursed.

Grabbing Artemus by his neck, he slammed him against the wall, face first, crushing his nose and lips against the tiles.

Then he pulled the lever up and the release of steam stopped.

He closed his big hands around the agent's neck, squeezing increasingly, compressing Artemus's upper airway, murder in his eyes. "I'm going to kill you," he said, his teeth bared.

Tbc.