THE NIGHT OF THE MERMAID
By Andamogirl
Author's notes: Season 2.
Episode-tag. This story takes place right after the end of "The Night of the Green Terror."
Reference to "TN the Dragon Screamed & The Night of the Green Terror."
Reference to my story TNOT Outlaw; TNOT Deadly Showboat.
I know, I know, what? A mermaid? But why not? In season 2 of the WWW, we can find a mechanical bird that changes things and people into solid gold, a powder that can shrink people, dead people brought back to life, Frankenstein-style, a flying-saucer, a ghost, a man who mysteriously rejuvenates, a junket through time, a travel in another dimension… etc. So, yes, a mermaid has its place.
Artie: "How long do you think it'll be before Loveless turns his twisted little mind to us?"
Dr. Loveless: "Right now, Mr. Gordon. In fact, you and Mr. West are never out of my mind."
TNOT Green Terror
Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.
Warning: graphic violence & drowning and temporary major character death.
WWW
TEASER
San Francisco
Museum of Art
Professor Hartfield gestured toward a huge figurehead, representing a lovely, blond, mermaid and said, "And here, we have the centerpiece of the future exposition on the Caribbean pirates, Mr. Gordon. It's the only part left of the famous pirate ship the Black Saber. It was discovered on a beach of the famous pirates' lair, 'l'île de la Tortue', two years ago. It has been added to the collections of the museum recently."
Special agent Artemus Gordon of the US Secret Services looked up too at the sculpted wooden marine creature and said, "I can see why, she's so realistic…" He smiled, smitten. "She looks like she's alive, and she's… really perfect, her face, her body..." And couldn't help but touch one of the faded green painted scales on her fish tail. "She's beautiful."
Hartfield chuckled. "You're not the first man to succumb to her charms, but I have to warn you. Be careful, Mr. Gordon, a legend says that if a man stares at her eyes for one hour without blinking, he'll be turned into the head figure of a male mermaid, called a merman and will take his place at her side, at the bow of the ship, to accompany her, in the ocean, forever. Look at her eyes; Mr. Gordon, they are made with two big sapphires, about the size of a fist. They are worth a fortune each. Captain Stevenson, commanding the Black Saber wanted his ship to be the most beautiful."
Artie nodded. "And she certainly was."
Hartfield nodded. "By the way, that lovely mermaid has a name, Mira. Her name is engraved on the side of her green tail."
Suddenly the two men heard the very recognizable sounds of two hammers being cocked and they turned around… to discover a gray-haired diminutive man, grinning, flanked by two armed men, one of the two being a blond, mountain- like-built- -brute with a scar down his left cheek.
Dr. Miguelito Loveless nodded. "And those two sapphires are mine, now." He rubbed his hands in glee and continued, "I didn't know I would find you here tonight Mr. Gordon, it's the icing on the cake. It's so nice to see you again, and so soon after our last encounter, just two days ago. I came here for the sapphires… and I have an unexpected bonus: you. Hands up and no sudden movements, gentlemen. My new collaborators here are a notoriously trigger-happy."
His back stiffening, Artemus lowered his hand, in a flash, to his right side… and cursed under his breath. He had left his gun belt in the Wanderer. This visit in preview of the exhibition was not supposed to be dangerous, he thought. 'The next time you visit an exhibition, old boy, you will bring your weapon, you never know… If there is a next time…'
Loveless grinned. "Nice reflex, but your revolver would have been of no use to you." He waved an admonishing finger. "Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! You shouldn't leave the Wanderer unarmed, Mr. Gordon. That's not prudent. You have many enemies, and I am the most formidable one."
Artie rubbed his chin pensively, for a few seconds, and then said, "I've had more formidable enemies and will have others in the future, no doubt…" He paused, savoring Loveless's irritated scowl. Then he quickly bowed his head as a mark of respect and admiration, and continued, "But you are no doubt the most intelligent, creative and persistent one, Dr. Loveless. No one comes close to you when it comes to finding ways out of the ordinary to get rid of Jim and me… But unfortunately for you, and fortunately for Jim and me, all your wonderful schemes inevitably fail. "He smiled. "C'est comme ça, c'est la vie," he finally added.
Miguelito Loveless pulled out a long hollow tube made of cane from the inside of his jacket and a dart. "I brought a souvenir from my recent stay with the Indians, a weapon called a blow gun, it's very handy to neutralize someone smoothly and silently – of course Indians put poison on the tip of the dart..." he placed a light projectile inside the cane, placed the extremity to his lips and propelled the dart by the force of his breath. "I use a powerful sedative."
Hit in his neck by the dart, Professor Hartfield swayed on unsteady legs for a few seconds and then he collapsed in Artemus's arms, unconscious.
Lowering the old man to the floor, Artie glared at his Nemesis.
Loveless giggled. "I love using that Indian weapon… don't worry about the Professor, he'll wake with a splitting headache in a few hours…"
Standing, his arms crossed on his chest, Artemus asked, his face now neutral, "I don't like surprises, they can be badly surprising. What did you plan for me?"
Loveless eyes gleamed, his expression jubilant. "As your partner and you are never out of my mind, I always have something prepared to get rid of you. You will cease to bother me soon – definitively. You will die slowly and painfully. I have planned something simple this time…"
Artie smiled. "Ah! That's why you decided to steal the sapphires. You have a new big idea coming up and you need money to build it – and to pay your henchmen of course and for your daily lifestyle, which is rather luxurious."
Loveless smiled. "Exactly, and I put some money aside in a foreign bank too, for my future family. Like every man, I want to have a wife and children, later. For now I'm too busy. " He looked up at the mass of muscles standing on his right side and continued, "Smith, take the sapphires, use the tools I gave you, but be careful with them, don't damage them, or I will have your head!" Then he looked up at his other henchman, the blond giant. "Peters, take Mr. Gordon !"
Immediately Artie felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He could fight against a man even bigger and stronger than Voltaire, but not for long, he thought. He would try his best to resist Peters, but he had no chance against the giant. He could put up a good fight, though.
He moved back, balling his hands into tight fists, planted his feet firmly, ready to defend himself.
Peters holstered his Colt and pounced on Artemus like a bull on a matador. Artie stepped to the side, and smashed his fist straight into his assailant's cheek, hard, as hard as he could, with as much force as he could muster, sending him reeling.
He smiled, proud of himself. 'Not bad!'
Peters reached down, grabbed a fistful of the front of Artie's shirt and punched the special agent hard in his solar plexus in return.
Artie doubled over, the wind completely knocked out of him. He grunted and sagged to his hands and knees on the tiled floor.
He swallowed a bunch of bile but threw up awkwardly, nonetheless, splashing Peters's boots.
The brute hauled Artie upright and backhanded him across the face with his massive hand, hitting his right eye, splitting his lower lip and flattening his nose, causing trickles of blood to flow down his face and knocking him sprawling to the floor.
He cradled his jaw. He tasted blood and spat it out.
Loveless loved the spectacle. "Don't break him Peters – not too much," he said, folding his arms, a wide grin on his face.
Blood on his lips, Artemus lurched to his feet, clenching his teeth against the general pain and swayed as he took a heavy limp to one side, his head pounding and his vision wavering.
Grabbing Artemus by the neck, in a vice like hold, half strangling the agent in the process, Peters tilted the other man's face up and said, "Time to say goodnight, old man!" and he brought a heavy fist down on Artie's head, like a hammer.
A grunt of pain escaped Artie's lips before he slumped sideways, boneless, his vision filled with stars, into an unconscious heap.
WWW
The Wanderer, much later
Holding his last conquest by her hand, Jim West led her to the platform of the Wanderer. The woman looked at the luxurious train, impressed.
She smiled, totally smitten, playing with a lock of her hair. "You live in your own train? You must be very rich James…" And she moved even closer to Jim.
Jim smiled. "The train's not mine, and I'm not rich. It belongs to a rich uncle, Sam… He lends it to me to travel through the country and I'm sharing that train with my best friend, Artemus Gordon."
She frowned. "I thought that we'd be alone tonight, James…"
Jim kissed his date's lips, softly. "We'll be alone. Artemus is visiting an old friend at the Art Museum. He won't be back for hours, Myriam…"
Myriam pointed at the railing of the platform. "Look! There's a watch here with a note!"
Pivoting, Jim spotted the said watch hanging from the railing and noticed the letters AG engraved on the gold case – it was Artie's pocket watch, and the piece of paper had been slid inside it.
He frowned in alarm. Something was wrong. Artie had left the Wanderer hours before with his monogrammed watch slid into the pocket of his waistcoat.
He climbed onto the platform. There was a worried furrow between his eyebrows as he took the small piece of paper from the watch case. That can't be good, he thought. He read, "Warehouse 14, Oak Street, midnight. Come alone."
He turned toward Myriam and said, "I'm sorry, Myriam, but I'll have to postpone our dinner, my friend needs me. He left a message ... I'm sorry."
Myriam pouted. "Your friend first and me after…"
Jim nodded. "My friend's first and foremost, all the time, always."
WWW
Warehouse 14, Oak Street, later
Holding his gun, James West entered the warehouse. The ground was covered with bits of ice. Crates filled with fish and ice were stacked everywhere.
It was cold.
He spotted Artemus, sitting on a chair, tied up and gagged. Artie's chin was resting on his chest, and the older man was immobile.
Looking around him, on his guard, he moved toward his seemingly unconscious partner.
He lifted Artie's head, carefully cataloging his partner's injuries and cringed seeing the bloodied nose, the swollen right eye socket, the bruised cheekbone and a cut to his puffy lower lip.
He removed the gag and gently cupped Artemus's face with his hands. "Artie! Artie! Can you hear me? Artie! Wake up buddy…" He spotted a bump on the top of his head. There was no blood, fortunately. Just a nasty bruise. "I'm here. You're okay…"
He holstered his gun and pulled out the throwing knife he always carried between his shoulder blades in a vertical sleeve in the back of his bolero jacket. He cut the ropes and Artie slumped forward. Grabbing Artemus under the armpits he hauled him to his feet. "I've got you. I'm going to take you to the hospital…"
He was ready to hoist his passed out companion on his shoulder when the floor immediately underneath Jim's feet opened. They both fell and hit the ground, about ten feet lower, in another room, with bruising force, and with a thud.
The chair fell on Jim's back then toppled over. Jim rolled on his back and saw a trap door silently closing above him.
Shortly after Artemus regained consciousness, lying on his stomach, and let his partner pull him upright then he swayed on unsteady legs. "Wha h'pened?" he asked, coughing, his throat hoarse, confused.
Jim raised the chair and maneuvered Artie onto it. "Stay here, Artie, don't move!" then he surveyed the ice storage room which was weakly lit by two kerosene lamps .The four walls were covered with ice blocks and the temperature was freezing.
He moved toward the big, metallic, solid door, finding it locked from the outside. They were trapped!
He glanced around him. Or not. By placing blocks of ice under the trapdoor, they could build stairs, and reach the ceiling, and the trapdoor.
He heard a plaintive, "Jim!" and rushed beside Artie, catching him in his arms just before he crumpled to the floor.
He lowered Artie against a crate, and cupped his face. He frowned in alarm, noticing his best friend's unfocused eyes and his pallor. "Hang on, Artie!"
Blinking slowly as his surroundings blurred in and out of focus, Artie mumbled, "Ice… there's ice… cold." He closed his eyes. He could feel himself drifting. Then, suddenly, he retched hard and vomited – right on Jim's blue bolero jacket.
Blackness overtook him.
Hearing laughter he would recognize even among thousands, Jim looked up at the opened trapdoor. "Dr. loveless. I should have known that it was you."
Loveless smiled. "Welcome Mr. West. I'm very happy to meet you again. I hope you liked my present, the ice box. You're going to stay here while I prepare what is necessary to get rid of you." He dropped a small sphere to the ground and it exploded on contact.
Immediately a thick yellow smoke formed a large cloud that spread everywhere. Jim put his hand in front of his mouth and nose but it was already too late.
Loveless Chuckled. "I too have smoke bombs. Sleep well, Mr. West."
He closed the trapdoor.
Sinking on his knees beside Artemus, Jim succumbed to the knockout gas. His vision went black as he lost consciousness.
Tbc.