THE NIGHT OF THE PEACEMAKER
By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT ONE
Later in the U.S. Military Hospital
Washington D.C.
Laid on the examination table, on his back, the cut to his left eyebrow and lower lip stitched, his face glistening with a layer of salve for the bruises, his left hand bandaged and wearing white pajamas, Artie closed his eyes, falling fast asleep.
Dr. Henderson CMO removed his gloves; put the now empty syringe on the tray sat on the cart and patted his patient's shoulder. "Sleep well, Artemus." Then he looked at Jim, worried, standing on the other side of the examination table and said to the other agent, "He's going to be alright. I injected him with a mild sedative. He's resting soundly now. He should wake in a couple of hours or so."
Reassured, Jim nodded. "What happened to Artemus two months ago?" He asked Henderson. "Tell me about his heart attack."
Henderson seized the occasion that Artemus was back in his office to auscultate him. He unbuttoned the pajamas top and placed the disc-shaped part of his stethoscope on Artie's chest. "He was dining tête à tête with the President when he felt the first signs of a heart attack – I mean he felt a violent chest pain, radiating to his back, his jaw, his shoulders, his arm and left hand and finally to his stomach. He also felt very weak, was left breathless and was suddenly very tired. Artemus immediately recognized them as he had had a cardiac arrest before and told the President he needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible." Looking at Artie's prone form, Jim said, "Yes, I remember. He died for a few seconds and then you brought him back using an injection of epinephrine, which in case of cardiac arrest, permits the return of spontaneous circulation and instant resuscitation."
Dr. Henderson nodded. "That's right," he said and continued, "President Grant had him transported here in a matter of minutes. He didn't call an ambulance, it would have taken too long, and each minute counted, so he just ordered a soldier to saddle a horse, to put Artemus across his saddle and gallop to the Military Hospital. He was laying on this examination table when his heart stopped. He died for a few minutes – again. Unfortunately I didn't have any epinephrine left. Then I had the idea to use that portable resuscitating device with metal paddles with insulated handles functioning with electricity that Artemus built for me after Dr. Loveless electrocuted him with his infernal machine. Thankfully, I managed to revive him. Artemus calls this device Electric Resuscitating Device, or ERD."
Impressed Jim nodded. "Quick thinking and well-done, Sir."
Henderson nodded. Then he placed the tubes connected to earpieces in his ears and carefully listened to his patient's heart. "Pulse is strong and regular, good, good," he said, pleased by the results. He placed his stethoscope around his neck and looking at Jim he added, "I brought him back but unfortunately, he stayed in a coma for two months. When he woke up he was his old self, had no lasting effects. Comas are tricky things… He was lucky to regain consciousness with his brain intact. Others don't have such luck. Three of my recent coma patients woke up with brain damage, like slurred speech, trouble with memory, loss of coordination and disorders of consciousness. As he was totally unresponsive we had to force feed him with liquid food and hydrate him too with a flexing tube. As a result, he lost weight. And as bathing in the sun is good for your health I made him sunbathe every day in the garden of the hospital, for several hours." Looking back down at his patient Henderson smiled. "Any other man would have died, but not Artemus Gordon. You and I both know how strong-willed he is and he survived."
Frowning, Jim placed an affectionate hand on his best friend's arm. "Was he suffering?"
Stephen Henderson shook his head. "No, he wasn't. His face was slack, expressionless. His whole body was completely relaxed. He didn't feel anything."
The younger man nodded, relieved. "Artie told me that the President had installed an annex to the Oval Office in his room."
The CMO smiled. "That's true. You know like me how the President feels about Artemus here." His smile suddenly vanished. "On a more serious tone, Artemus is now out of danger, but the risk of having another heart attack still exists. People like Artemus who have had heart attacks before are predisposed to have another one – which is generally fatal."
Frowning, worried, Jim nodded and asked, "You're not going to kick Artie out of the Secret Service because of that, are you Doctor?"
Because he knew that the CMO of the Washington Military Hospital, in charge of the medical follow-up of all secret service agents had the authority to do so.
Henderson didn't respond right away. He explained first, "I told him that with his heart condition being like a Damocles sword hanging over him it would be better for him to step down, leave the Secret Service, to have a calm and peaceful life, away from his current stressful existence, so he can take care of himself. And the stress is not the only cause leading to heart disease. I did an extensive study on the subject and discovered, after treating many patients affected by heart conditions, that heart attacks are generally linked to high blood pressure and bad health habits, like drinking a lot of alcohol, smoking a lot, and not doing enough physical activity – but I think we can skip that one in Artemus's case."
Glancing at Artie, now snoring gently, Jim put his hand over Artie's chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall. "Since that mission at the famous Sedgewick Spa, with those kidnapped patients with that rare disease, that blood disorder called Lubbock's Distemper, Artie has started to prepare 'health food' for us. I didn't like it at first, but I appreciate it now. But on Sunday, we make an exception. He doesn't drink much, except when he has to play the role of a man who drinks a lot, as for smoking, well, he still has to work on that. He loves cigars."
The CMO of the Washington Military Hospital nodded. "Especially those awful cigars the president offers him. I didn't know that, and I'm glad to hear it." He paused and finally responded to Jim's question, "I won't kick him out of the Secret Service." Relieved, Jim smiled. "President Grant would never sign his discharge. And Artemus refused to resign from his post."
Jim's smile broadened. "I'm not surprised he refused, Sir. Artemus loves his work, he lives for his work, and it's his whole life."
Henderson continued, "I told him that he should resign in order not to put you in danger during a dangerous mission that could cost you your life, if he had another and fatal heart attack. He refused, firstly because no one could predict if he would have another heart attack one day, which might never happen and secondly because in case he died of a heart attack, you would continue the mission until its completion, without him. Then you would bring him home, bury him, grieve and mourn him."
Glancing down at Artie, Jim nodded. "He's right. That's exactly what I would do." Looking back at the physician he asked him, "What can I do to help Artie?"
Stephen Henderson looked back down at his sleeping patient. "Ensure that he continues to have a healthy lifestyle and limit the stress."
Jim replied, "It is doable for the first, unfeasible for the second… It comes with the job. But I promise that I will keep an eye on him, doctor."
WWW
In the evening, in the Oval Office
President Grant offered a long, fat cigar to his two best agents and said, "Thank you very much gentlemen, you saved my life, again."
Jim turned toward Artie. "Well, Mr. President, I didn't do much, Artemus here did the entire job. I just well… manhandled you to your carriage."
Ulysses S. Grant looked at Artemus noticing his stitched left eyebrow and his bruised face. He frowned in concern. "How do you feel Artemus?"
Artie smiled reassuringly. "I'm alright Sir. Thank you."
Grant nodded and lit his cigar before the other men did the same. "Good! The prisoner, Finn, he didn't say a word. He refuses to talk," he announced.
Artie nodded and proposed, "Perhaps he'll talk to me, Sir. We know each other well… or rather we knew each other well, past tense. We were friends even, before..."
The President nodded. "Yes, I know." He frowned angrily. "Finn changed sides and betrayed you, his partner, he betrayed his uniform, his General – me – and he betrayed his country during the Chattanooga Campaign, giving you to the Confederates."
Swallowing, Artemus's shoulders sagged in sadness "Yes, he did, and he killed the man who was accompanying us, an infantry sergeant of the 13th United States Colored Infantry. I was training him to be a spy; he was a Crow warrior, the only one among warriors coming from the Delaware tribe and much of the Creek peoples. His name was Daxpitcheehísshish, it means Red Bear. He was the son of Búattaaxalusshish, Running Coyote, the Chief of the Awaxaawaxammilaxpáake, in English 'Mountain People' grouping. He was my friend, Sir, my first Indian friend. I miss him."
The President nodded. "I remember. The 13th United States Colored Infantry served under the command of Colonel John A. Hottenstein, a very good officer. I authorized that 'formation' and signed the order to transfer the sergeant under your supervision."
Staring at Artie, Jim wasn't surprised to hear that for the first time. He knew that his partner kept entire parts of his past as a spy secret because he didn't want to talk about them. It was still painful, he thought. 'But as he has started to talk about that story, let's hear the rest of it…' he added in his mind. Curious, he asked, "What happened?"
Taking a deep breath, Artemus responded, "We had recognized the Confederates' movements of troops and their positions when we encountered a patrol. As we wore gray uniforms they didn't pay attention to us… but Barney suddenly pointed his gun at me and said, "Hey guys! We're Union spies. I want to desert and join you." Then he killed Red Bear as he was grabbing his gun to protect me. After that he pointed his revolver at me, again telling the now interested Grays, "He's Captain Artemus Gordon, General Grant's personal spy…" Then he leaped on me. We crashed to the ground and he hit me with his gun. I lost consciousness." He paused. "I woke up with my hands above my head, attached to the branch of a tree. I was naked. Barney was there, at the Gray's sides, smiling, and he took great pleasure watching the soldiers beat me up…" He sighed. "I still can feel the burn of their belts on my back sometimes."
He looked again at his smoking cigar, lost in his thoughts, images from his 48 hours ordeal coming up to his mind and he paled and trembled.
Pressing Artie's shoulder in a comforting gesture, Jim said, "If you don't want to continue to talk about this, then stop. I wouldn't be upset."
For one minute Artie paused, regaining composure and looking up at Jim he added, "It's okay. I'm good. The Gray soldiers had fun with me for two days and nights, beating me up and humiliating me… Then, Barney's conscience came to the fore and he killed the Confederates before they hanged me. He dressed me in the fatigues of a simple Union soldier I had hidden in a secret part of my saddle bag, to stay discreet when I was back behind our lines, put me on a horse, mounted his, then he led me a few miles away and left me there, saying that with my luck I would be captured by a Confederate patrol and end up in a POW camp. And if I wasn't lucky, I would end up dead in a muddy pit. I don't remember anything after that… I was barely conscious, plunged in a kind of thick torpor… I don't know how I managed to survive and to rejoin the Union forces…" He rubbed his head automatically. "That part is still blank. I tried to remember but it's eluding me." He sighed and added, "A Union patrol found me and I ended up in Dr. Henderson's hands."
Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "For the first time, if I remember correctly. You were a mess Artemus, but Stephen saved your life."
Artemus smiled. "And he keeps doing it, Sir."
The President narrowed his eyes, upset. "For my part I'd like the two of you to meet Dr. Henderson the least possible, especially you, Artemus. You have the unfortunate tendency to be hurt more than once during each mission. Despite what you think, you're not invincible. Am I clear?"
Standing at attention in his chair, Artie said, "Yes, Sir. I'll do my best. But as you know, I don't have a very peaceful profession. Injuries come with the job, Sir."
Jim nodded. "Speaking of profession, it would be more prudent to postpone any other engagements until Artie and I find those assassins, Sir."
The President shook his head. "That's impossible. My next public appearance is scheduled tomorrow at noon at the Congress building park. A lot of people will be attending the ceremony after that. You have until tomorrow noon to find those assassins, gentlemen. I suggest you start by visiting Mr. Finn in his cell and make him talk in order to find the others."
The two agents nodded. "Yes Sir."
His eyes sparkling in time with a brilliant idea burgeoning in his mind, Artie said. "And I know how." Looking at the President he added, "I'd like to have a letter from you Sir, giving Jim and I carte blanche to interrogate the prisoner."
Grant nodded, "Consider it done," then he sat behind his Louis XV style table and took a sheet of blank paper and a fountain pen.
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Later at night in the Secret Service building
Two hulky armed guards were framing the plain metallic door when James West and Artemus Gordon showed them their identity cards.
They searched the bag Artie had with him – finding inside a box containing make-up, a large bowl, a bottle filled with a thick blue liquid, another one with a white liquid, scissors,, and a mask reproducing the face of the owner of the bag and a salt and pepper wig.
Seeing that the guards were looking at the two bottles suspiciously, Artie explained, "They each contain a special component to make masks. It's harmless and I have the authorization to have that material."
Jim took out a letter from his inner jacket pocket and gave it to the tallest guard. "Here it is. The President himself signed it. That letter grants us the right to do anything regarding the prisoner."
The guard read the letter, gave it back to agent West and opened the heavy door. "Everything's in order. Just call if you need anything, Sirs," he said.
Jim and Artie entered the dimly lit cell a couple of seconds later and discovered Finn sitting on a bunk, his ankles chained to the thick stone wall painted in gray. There was a table and a lone chair in the room. The light was provided by a single candle.
Finn immediately shot a murderous glare at Artemus who ignored it superbly. "I won't tell you anything, you're going to waste your time," he offered and then tightened his jaw.
Jim sat astride on the sole chair that was in the window-less room and as for Artie, he placed the bag he was holding at his feet and leaned against the locked door, his arms crossed on his chest, observing Finn's face with attention. It was heavily bruised and he had two black eyes, on each side of his broken nose. Soon he would 'wear' a copy of it.
Looking at Artemus Finn relaxed and smirked. "It has been a long time Artemus," he said. "Do you remember the last time we met, I mean before today? You were in pretty bad shape. The Grays had a lot of fun with you. It was a miracle you were still alive when I saved you from being hung. It's still vivid isn't it? Those long, interminable hours of torture and agony are burnt in your memory forever, right? I'm sure can you feel phantom pain sometimes… Boy! Your back was just a bloody pulp!"
His face a mask of granite, Artie asked, "Why did you hand me over to the Confederates Finn? We were friends, we were partners. I trusted you."
Finn grimaced in disdain. "Why? Because I was jealous of you of course. And also because I didn't want to live in your shadow anymore. You were perfect Artemus: you were a master spy! You were a master in disguise, a sweet talker, you could manipulate people like no one else, you could take on any kind of accent, use any kind of voice; you were good with any weapon and you invented formidable gadgets, and Grant loved you like you were his own son! I was just your sidekick. I had to get rid of you to exist, to prove to myself and to the others that I was good, as good as Artemus Gordon!... So I decided to change sides, to have a new and better life in the Confederacy were I would be a master spy myself! I offered you as a gift, to be accepted by the Grays… and it worked. But my blasted conscience couldn't leave me in peace! So I saved you before it was too late. I regret it now. I should have let them hang you."
Artemus nodded his eyes as cold as ice. "But fortunately for me, you did, and I'm not going to thank you for that, of course. And you became an assassin…"
Finn beamed. "Not at first. I was a spy for a few months then I found a more lucrative job and a less dangerous one. I worked with counterfeiters, and after the war I became a hitman, using my talents to disguise myself to kill the designated target, and I'm proud of it. I'm a now a renowned hitman and I earn a lot of money for each contract. I'm not one of Grant's lapdogs like you are."
Jim turned toward his best friend reading barely controlled boiling anger in his chocolate eyes. To calm down his best friend he just said, "Artie, the bag, buddy." Then looking at the prisoner, he added, "You were a renowned hitman, past tense. Soon you will be a simple prisoner in a federal penitentiary and you will spend your days breaking rocks."
Ignoring Jim and what he had just said, Finn added, "Remember Red Bear Artemus? That Crow Indian who wanted to be a spy? While you were unconscious, one of the soldiers, called Miller… scalped him! Then he hung his scalp from his saddle as a trophy."
Paling in horror, Artemus went rigid. Then he tightened his fist, knuckles turning white.
The prisoner smirked with satisfaction and then continued, pleased to hurt Artemus. "I kept a few of his belongings too, as souvenirs. His necklace and beaded belt he wore under his uniform jacket. You remember the place where we met that patrol? The Confederates threw the Indian's body in the river where we met the soldiers. He floated for a while then ended up in a large hole under a willow tree, probably dug by some beavers, on the opposite bank and disappeared inside. I'm sure his bones are still there…"
Eyes turning darker with rage and intense desire for vengeance, Artie's lips thinned and he clenched his jaw. He moved toward Finn ready to smash his grinning face.
In a split second Jim placed himself in front of his partner, and said, "Calm down buddy. He's nothing. Don't pay attention to him."
Closing his eyes for a moment, making a visible effort to calm himself, Artemus sat the bag on the table. He opened it and retrieved what was inside: the large bowl and the bottles, one containing a thick blue liquid and the other a more fluid white liquid.
Seeing the prisoner who was intrigued furrow his brow, Jim smiled and explained, "Artie is going to make a mask of your face, Finn. Then, posing as you, he'll be transferred nightly for a better security to the closest federal penitentiary. I'm sure that your friends outside will free him, somehow. Arte is going to infiltrate your ring of assassins and then we will arrest all of them."
Finn shook his head and moved back on his bunk. "It won't work. They will know that he's not me when they talk to him. There are a lot of things he does not know…They will suspect something and will not trust him, they are very suspicious, especially the chief." Looking back at Artie who was still glaring at him, he added, "You're going to be killed Artemus."
Jim smiled. "You forget that Artie is very talented. He can do anything. He recently replaced the President and no one saw the difference, even his closest collaborators."
Finn stood up, his fists raised, lifting his chin defiantly. "I won't let you make a mask of my face," he said to the older agent, watching him pour the thick blue liquid into the large bowl.
Sniggering Artie moved toward Finn, holding the bowl. "Jim, could you neutralize Finn, please? I need him to be immobile."
"Sure thing, Artie," Jim said. He stood and then punched the prisoner right on his chin and Finn collapsed on his bunk knocked out. "Done."
At once Artie sat on the edge of the bunk and poured the thick liquid on the assassin's face. It rapidly covered it and dried almost immediately. "It's a new compound I developed. It takes only a few seconds to dry and become solid and the result is perfect. The face is reproduced to perfection, even the smallest details, like Barney's double V scar for example."
He removed the solidified blue material from Finn's face and then poured a little of the white liquid inside, rolling it in his hands to spread it evenly in a thin layer. "I have also improved the product that I use to create my masks. They are now so thin they are undetectable. They dry rapidly too."
Sitting back astride the chair, Jim said, "I'm sorry about what happened to that Crow Indian… He was your friend."
Sighing, Artie nodded. "Yes, he was. I had never worked with an Indian before, and I discovered an excellent soldier and a brave man. We became friends, and I miss him."
A pause.
He removed the mask of Finn's face one minute later and looked at it. "See? It's perfect!" proud of himself he bowed his head. "You may applaud." He chuckled when Jim did and then started to work on the mask so that it was an exact copy of the original.
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Half an hour later, Artemus Gordon looked exactly like Barney Finn.
He pulled out the mask of his own face from the bag. "Now, I'm going to transform a guard into myself. If one of the assassins is outside, like I think there is, he'll see us both leaving the building. He won't suspect a set up, and even less suspect that someone could pose for Finn."
Jim smiled. "You're right. Good thinking, Artie."
Pleased and proud, smiling, Artie bowed. "Thank you," he said.
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Later in the street outside the Secret Service building
Barney Finn (Artemus Gordon) his wrists and ankles shackled was roughly pushed inside the barred coach and the two guards escorting him climbed inside in their turn.
Then the coach slowly headed toward the corner of the street.
Nothing happened in the large and animated streets of Washington, but once in the outskirts of the Capital… a group of black-clad and hooded riders, armed with guns and rifles emerged from a wood and rapidly encircled the heavy vehicle.
The non-armed guards (except with batons) raised their hands.
Shortly after they found themselves tied up and gagged inside the coach, lying on the floor – as Finn was standing outside, being unshackled.
Finn-Artemus rubbed his sore wrists and looked up at the man who gave orders. "Thanks," he said imitating Finn's voice perfectly. "Let's get out of here." He mounted the horse his friends had brought for him and soon everyone disappeared in the wood nearby.
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Later, in the middle of the night
Faux-Finn dismounted two hours later in front of a white manor surrounded by hundred-year-old oaks and looked around him – doing his best not to show his surprise. 'I know this place, I came here once, it's Senator Simpson's house', he thought. 'He's the big one leading that group of assassins?' He followed the other men inside the vast house and they all stopped in the middle of the vast hall.
Senator Simpson appeared on the landing, at the top of the stairs leading to the second storey. "Ah! Mr. Finn, I'm happy to see you free," he said.
Not-Finn looked up at the old man and nodded. "And I'm happy to be free, thanks."
Simpson smiled and came down the stairs. He headed toward the not-hitman and stopped in front of him. His face was harsh. "You failed, Finn," he stated. He frowned. "I thought you never did."
Faux-Finn swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I encountered an unforeseen problem. Artemus Gordon recognized me under my disguise – he and I know each other, we met during the war - and I was captured. But I didn't say a single word to those agents of the Secret Service. I swear."
The Senator nodded and pulled out a double Derringer from the pocket of his jacket. He put the circles of the twin barrels directly in the center of Finn-Artie's forehead and said, "Are you sure, Finn?" He narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "You could have agreed to cooperate with the Secret Service against a remission of sentence ... and if so, the house could at the moment be surrounded by the police…"
Finn-Artemus felt a wave of worry rush over him as he nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I didn't say a word. The police are not here. I know I failed but it won't happen again, Sir," he blurted out.
Simpson's face hardened. "No, it won't happen again."
Opening his eyes in (feigned) fear faux-Finn gulped. "Please don't kill me, give me another chance. I'll try to kill the President again, and I will succeed. I promise."
Simpson showed his best crocodile smile. "If you fail again Mr. Finn, I'll kill you myself. I recruited you for your talent of to impersonate anyone… use that talent to kill Ulysses S. Grant."
Not-Finn nodded. "I know how, Sir. I will pose as Artemus Gordon during the President's next speech. He won't suspect anything. I will be standing beside Grant and I will have a gun. Killing him will be easy and I will use the following confusion to remove my mask, and escape."
Simpson smiled. "That's an excellent idea. I love it! You will shoot Grant dead. Excellent. Grant's next speech is scheduled in two days, at noon. I'll be there… watching him die. What do you need?"
Faux-Finn rubbed his chin pensively. "To be Artemus Gordon I will need to use his clothes and especially I will need the products he uses to create his formidable masks. The ones I brought with me have deteriorated and I can't use them anymore. And there's only one place where I can get all those things, his place. 'And I'll leave a coded message for Jim' he added in his mind.
Senator Simpson nodded. "Alright. Gordon lives with his partner in a train called the Wanderer. The train is probably stationed on a sidetrack at the railroad station." He looked at his top henchman standing beside the hitman and added, "Hopkins, will help you to enter the Wanderer without anyone noticing. He uses a lockpick like no one else."
Finn-Artie nodded. "Alright, that's a good plan, Sir."
The Senator nodded. "Hopkins will then take good care of Mr. Gordon, so you can replace him at the President's side. He's excellent with a knife too."
Hopkins grinned.
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The next morning, in the Wanderer
Sitting on a bench in the railroad station with a good view on the rear platform of the Wanderer Hopkins and faux-Finn saw Jim West leave the train around 0900 then waited for Artemus Gordon to leave too, but after him no one else exited the train.
Sitting beside Simpson's top henchman Finn-Artemus nodded. "See? He locked the door. Gordon's not inside. He's probably in the White House with the President. Let's go!"
Using a lockpick, Hopkins quickly opened the door leading to the parlor suite. He let out an appreciative whistle and looking around him he said, "It's beautiful! It's like a luxury hotel – on wheels!"
Faux-Finn with Parker in tow visited the galley, Jim's sleeping compartment and then entered his own private place. "It's Gordon's room," he said.
Hopkins was surprised to hear that and asked, "How do you know that Finn?"
Disguised-Artemus pointed at a wig lying on a small worktable. "The wig. Gordon is a master of disguise… but I'm better than him!"
He opened the cabinets and cupboards, revealing several dozens of costumes, wigs, and boxes filled with phony medals and jewelry. There were complete collections of false beard, moustaches, and sideburns too. He showed Hopkins four make-up sets and two sewing kits and several pairs of shoes, for men and for women. He turned toward Hopkins standing in the narrow doorway, holding his gun. He smiled broadly in genuine enthusiasm. "He has everything! I'd like to have all of this, it's fantastic!"
Hopkins shrugged. "Looks like he's a freak!"
Feeling insulted Artie's nostrils flared and he frowned angrily. "No, he's not. He needs all this for his missions… " He calmed down and added, "Like I need my own disguises for mine."
Hopkins sniggered, "You're a freak too!"
Finn-Artemus left the room and entered the lab shortly after; finding other wigs there sitting on mannequins' heads. He looked around him and spotted a clay pad and a bottle filled with a thick white liquid. "Excellent! I have all I need to be Artemus Gordon." Holding them in his arms he went back to the agent's sleeping compartment and took his place at the dresser. He looked at Hopkins and said, "Let me alone, I have a lot of work to do and I don't like being observed when I'm working. Don't come back before one hour or so. I'm sure you'll find some good whisky somewhere, now go! Out!"
Hopkins whispered, "Freak," and closed the door.
Smiling, Artemus removed his salt and pepper wig, the thin and realistic mask he was wearing and Artemus Gordon's face appeared reflected by the mirror. "Hiya, Artie! It's good to see you again buddy," he said, before broadening his smile. He raked his fingers through his hair and touched his face covered with colorful bruises from the events at Senator Greenhouse's residence. Then he brushed the stitches on his lower lip. "No need for make-up," he said. Then he continued, "It's good to get rid of that traitor's face and to see your handsome one again! Now let's make the perfect mask – ever! Your own face, old boy."
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Later in the parlor car
Real-but-pretending-to-be-faux Artemus Gordon entered the parlor car of the Wanderer one hour later, holding a bag, finding Hopkins sitting on the couch a glass of whisky in his hand. "How do I look?" he asked touching his bruised right cheek.
Stunned, the Senator's henchman looked up at the other man with his eyes opened wide and he let out, "Whoa! Is that really you Finn?"
Smiling, Artie rubbed his black and blue chin proudly. "Yes, it's me. Impressive isn't it? Artemus Gordon does have the right things to create masks, but he doesn't have my talent. I'm looking exactly like him – bruises and stitched lip included. Even his dear mother couldn't see the difference."
Hopkins was very impressed and let out an appreciative whistle. "It looks like you were badly beaten, Finn and it looks like real bruises!"
Smiling Artie nodded. "Yes, impressive, isn't it? I'm very good." He looked down at his clothes. "Gordon has stylish clothes." He was wearing a brown jacket with black collar, brown pants, black shoes, a white shirt, a gold, white and brown waistcoat with flower pattern and a black tie. "I like it. And, as Artemus Gordon be dead soon, he won't notice all this missing from his closet."
Hopkins stood up, downed the rest of his liquor in two gulps and put his glass on the coffee table. "You will wait at your hotel until I get rid of the real Artemus Gordon. Then I'll come to fetch you, okay?"
Faux-but-real Artie nodded. "Okay." He pointed at the empty glass. "Take that with you. We must not leave any trace of our presence here; I don't want James West to put his nose into our affairs. I left Gordon's compartment just as I found it."
Pocketing the glass, Hopkins said, "Let's go!" then he headed toward the door, not seeing Artemus discreetly drop a small paper ball on the coffee table.
Hiding a smile, Artie closed the door behind him and watched Hopkins use his lockpick again but this time to lock the door. 'It's your time to play, Jim,' he thought.
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Much later in the Wanderer
Spotting the small paper ball sitting on the coffee table Jim immediately knew that someone had come on board the train while he was gone.
It wasn't there when he had left the Wanderer two hours ago.
He raised his left hand, signaling Colonel Richmond accompanying him to halt and grabbed his gun. "Stay here, Sir. Someone came here uninvited, and he may still be here," he said.
Richmond pulled out the small gun he kept in his back, in a holster. "Go! Find the intruder," he said. "I can defend myself."
Jim left the parlor car and explored the different rooms, the stable car and the baggage car and didn't find anyone and nothing seemed to have been stolen.
He came back a few minutes later to the parlor car. "It's alright Sir. The intruder is long gone." He took the paper ball, unfolded it and smiled. "Artemus was here, Sir. He left me a coded message." He placed the small piece of paper on the green knap of the table.
Richmond pointed at it. "I've seen that code before. You left a message using that code for Artemus when you were working for that man called Callamander."
Jim nodded. "Yes, Sir. We use it from time to time. Artie invented that code." He opened the drawer of the dresser, took a pen out of it and quickly drew circles around a group of signs forming phrases. "Let's see what Artemus has to tell us…" He paused and said, "Senator Philip Simpson is behind the assassination attempts against the President."
Colonel Richmond was very surprised. "What? Senator Philip Simpson of Wisconsin?"
Jim continued to decipher the signs and said: "Yes Sir. Then he wrote "I disguised myself as Artemus Gordon to kill the President next time."
The Colonel blinked in surprise. "He what?"
Jim explained. "I suppose that Simpson asked Finn – I mean asked Artemus to kill the President again wearing a new disguise, Sir. Artie chose to disguise himself as the one person that President Grant wouldn't suspect to be an assassin: himself. He came here as Barney Finn and left the train as Artemus Gordon, posing as him. It's very clever." He continued to read the message. "Ask Jeremy to impersonate me. Artemus Gordon has to die so I can take his place."
Richmond nodded. "I understand. Artemus Gordon has to disappear so that the phony Artemus Gordon who is actually the true Artemus Gordon can be at the President's side at his next speech. I'm going to tell Jeremy Pike to come to my office as soon as possible."
Finally, Jim said, "And Artemus finally wrote, "Left a mask of my own face in the drawer of my dresser for Jer. Kill me so that S. thinks I'm dead. He'll think about another plan to kill the I'm captured he'll panic and escape." And he signed it AG." He smiled. "I have to kill Artie; it won't be the first time. Hmm… I haven't used the tranquilizer gun for a long time."
Richmond frowned, puzzled. "A tranquilizer gun? What's that?"
The agent smiled. "It's one of Artie's brilliant inventions, Colonel. He created a gun and a rifle. The gun and the rifle fire blank cartridges that eject tiny darts filled with a powerful new drug that put someone in a state resembling death. I used the tranquilizer rifle once on Artie when he was posing as an old man called Aaron Addison. I killed him before he was hanged and really killed. The only problem with that drug is the dosage, it's very tricky. The last time there was a slight overdose and it took some time for the sedative to wear off."
The head of the Secret Service nodded again. "That's a good plan. I need to see Jeremy Pike and the President to tell him what is going to happen."
Jim nodded. "As for me, I have to find the tranquilizer gun."
WWW
The same day, at noon
Standing beside President Grant, his hand close to his gun holstered at his belt, Artemus Gordon was very nervous.
First because he was going to point his gun at Grant, a man he highly respected and loved like a surrogate father, threatening him, and secondly because Jim was going to shoot him with the tranquilizer gun. 'You're going to end in Henderson's hands, once again, and you'll be out for quite some time. I hope that Jim has found the right dosage of the sedative. The last time, I had my old nuggin' full of tapioca for almost half an hour', it was like I was drunk,' he thought.
He didn't hear the crowd chatting animatedly waiting for the President to make his speech and the musicians of the fanfare playing military marches to please the ex-Lieutenant General Grant.
He was focused on his task. Nothing else existed.
He glanced at Jim who was standing on the other side of the President and his best friend smiled and winked at him.
President Grant's forehead creased as he looked at Artie. "Calm down, Artemus, you're so nervous that you're making me nervous too," he said before adding, "Everything is going to be fine."
Standing at attention, Artie nodded, "Yes Sir." He glanced at Jim again and his partner whispered to him, "I'm ready, whenever you want, Artie."
Fighting down the rising lump in his throat and doing his best to calm down, Artemus took a deep breath, stepped aside, pulled his small gun out of his holster… and pointed it at Grant's head.
But he prudently kept his finger on the side of the trigger.
Immediately there were frightened cries of surprise and alarm among the crowd and the soldiers and officers of the security detail (aware of what was going to happen) pointed their arms at Artemus – but didn't fire.
The President turned toward his agent, stared down the barrel of the gun, then looked up at the holder of the revolver, falsely stunned. "What the hell are you doing Artemus?"
Playing his character, Artie replied bracing himself for impact, "Killing you, Sir."
In a flash Jim shoved Grant hard to the side, out of the line of fire, to safety and without any hesitation he fired on his partner at point blank range.
Chaos broke loose. The crowd gathered there immediately scattered and the soldiers encircling the platform raised their rifles ready to fire at anyone.
Hit square in his chest, Artemus let out a sharp cry of pain as the needle of the small tranquilizer dart containing the sedative penetrated his flesh, between two ribs and he lurched forward with a sudden feeling of vertigo when his knees gave way.
In a split second Jim caught his best friend before he crumpled to the floor and slowly, gently, lowered him to the platform.
Kneeling beside Artie laying on his back, completely limp, Jim grabbed the other man's monogrammed (AG) gun by the barrel and yanked it out of his partner's hand, loosely clutching it.
He re-holstered the tranquilizer gun and pressed two fingers against Artie's neck and checked his pulse for 30 seconds to be able to feel it. It was so slow it was almost imperceptible. "He's okay," he told Grant framed by four soldiers protecting him who let out a sigh of relief. Artemus's breathing was so shallow that it looked like he wasn't breathing at all. Then, faking being devastated, James West lowered his head toward Artemus Gordon's seemingly still chest.
Eyes closed, unconscious, immobile, the older agent looked dead.
Senator Simpson standing with his colleagues on another platform placed to one side grimaced with annoyance. Finn had failed again.
Finn was dead but Grant was still alive.
He had to find another assassin. He thought.
WWW
Later in Dr. Henderson's office
Dr. Henderson injected the antidote in Artemus Gordon's neck and a few seconds later the USSS agent stirred from his drug induced sleep and moaned.
He opened his eyes, slowly, groaning and through his greying-out vision, he saw Dr. Stephen Henderson standing beside him, holding an empty syringe and then realized he was lying on the examination table of the doctor's office – again.
Henderson smiled. "Good to have you back, Artemus. How do you feel?"
He brought his bruised and swollen hand to his face, in slow motion. "I'm weak… as a newborn kitten. I have… to work on suppressing the…aftereffects," he whispered as his mouth felt like cotton. His entire body felt numb and heavy and he had spots dancing in his vision. "Oooh boy!... I really hate that drug."
Henderson smiled. "I know. And you created it. The effects of the sedative should wear off within a few minutes, Artemus. In the meantime, stay still."
Artie nodded. "I have no intention to go anywhere… I feel like I have no bones in my body." He turned his head to the right and through half lidded eyes, he saw Jim there standing beside Grant. The two men were smiling in relief. He waved a weak finger. "Next time, if there is a next time, and I hope not – It will be my turn to shoot you with the tranquilizer gun, Jim." He closed his eyes and then opened them several times as he was dozing off and on. "Are… are… Are you… alright Mr. President?" he asked in a barely audible voice.
President Grant nodded. "Yes, I am. But following your little play, I'll have to make an official statement in the Press saying that it was a 'security exercise' in real conditions in order to improve my protection – following the two attempts to kill me. Of course you were not killed by your partner – it was part of the exercise. People will believe it and approve it. But only after Simpson is under arrest, of course I want you to surprise him. For now, you're dead."
Artie nodded and yawned. "Jeremy is okay?" He asked. He could barely keep his eyes open.
The President nodded in his turn. "Yes, he's alright. Hopkins tried to kill him believing he was you, but Mr. Pike quickly neutralized him. Hopkins is at the moment in a cell in the Secret Service building." He patted Artemus' shoulder with affection and smiled proudly. "You did a good job, Artemus." He looked at Jim then. "When Artemus feels better, I want you to arrest Senator Simpson and bring him in my office. I'd like to have a little talk with him."
Rubbing one eye with his fist, child-like, Artemus breathed out, "Boy, all I wanna do is sleep." Then he closed his bleary eyes succumbing to tiredness.
WWW
Much later in Senator Simpson's residence
Senator Philip Simpson took a step back and paled seeing James West and Artemus Gordon head toward him flanked by two other agents, both holding revolvers.
He pointed at Artie with a trembling hand. "B-but you're dead! I sent Hopkins to kill you! How is it possible?"
Artie smiled and said, "It's simple, I'm immortal." He paused and added, "It's a long story, Senator. For now you're under arrest for the attempted murder of the President of the United States. You're going to go before a federal court to face trial. But before that, President Grant would like to see you, Sir. He wants to talk to you. I've been ordered to bring you to the White House as soon as possible." He gestured to Simpson. "Gentlemen, handcuff the Senator." And the two agents complied within seconds.
Jim added, "And don't count on your merry band of henchmen to help you, Senator, the police are arresting them as we speak. By the way Hopkins is in jail, along with Finn. I'm sure they will both testify against you at your trial to avoid a life-long prison sentence."
Panicked, Simpson shook his head. "I'm not responsible for all that! I wanted Grant dead, yes. Because he let my two sons be killed during the war." He sighed. "It's a long story…" He stared at his manacled wrists, then looked back at Jim and Artemus. "But I didn't organize all this… another man who hates the President more than me is behind all that… He offered me the opportunity to avenge my sons in return for his accommodation here, and Hopkins and the other men were his henchmen, not mine..." Pale and sweating he glanced around him with dread with a bad feeling, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. "You have to protect me; I know that he's going to kill me if…" His next word got stuck in his throat as a long, black, dart embedded itself in his neck. He let out a strangled cry and crumpled on the floor.
Kneeling beside the immobile Senator Artie took the other man's pulse and shook his head. "He's dead, Jim. It's a poisoned dart, the death was instantaneous."
Prudently crouching to the floor, Jim and the agents looked around them and they saw a silhouette behind the rail of the second storey.
It was a little man holding a blowgun and he sniggered.
In a split second Jim stood and let out, "Loveless!" before he hurried toward the stairs. Artemus and the two agents followed closely.
But when they reached the landing, there was no one there.
Miguelito Loveless was gone.
Tbc.
