THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN

By Andamogirl

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ACT ONE

Part two

The next evening, the Wanderer

Galley

Hearing a soft meow, Artie looked down at Aztec, butting her head against the bottom of his pants. "Hello there my little girl," he mouthed. He scooped up the kitten and settled it on the small table where he was peeling potatoes for dinner. "Where have you been this time?" he asked silently. Lowering his head toward the baby cat, noticing tawny and black hairs on the baby cat's gray coat, and silent, he proposed, "Oh, I know, You had a long nap with mommy Marmalade and brother AG, right?"

Moving her tiny tail from right to left and left to right, Aztec batted a paw at her owner's lips. They were moving but she couldn't hear anything. "Mew?" She let out, tilting her head to the side in an interrogative way.

Smiling, Artie brushed the kitten's tiny nose with the tip of his finger. "My larynx is badly bruised and I'm not going to be able to talk for a few days," he explained mutely.

Meowing, Aztec rubbed her head against Artie's chin, then she sprawled across the table, belly up, demanding belly rubs.

Smiling, Artie dropped his knife on top of the pile of peelings then gave her the requested belly-rubs and Aztec purred in contentment.

Looking up he saw Jim enter the room and waved at him. "I'm preparing dinner, something special, I never tried to make or eat," he signed.

Frowning, Jim poured a cup of fresh, hot, coffee for them both and carried it back to join his companion. "What is it?"

Taking the steaming mug, Artemus mouthed, "Thanks," then he took a sip before placing it on the table. He signed, "I'm going to make…" He froze, not finding the right signs, so he moved toward the counter, took the pen and paper sheet there, where he had written down the ingredients he needed for the recipes. He wrote 'Filet de boeuf forestière with Bordelaise sauce and petit gratin Dauphinois' then showed it to his partner. "It's going to be delicious," he mouthed. Then he made a face, disappointed. "It's for you, not for me." He pointed at the pan settled on the stove and signed, "It's soup, for me, a simple soup, it's a butternut squash velouté. I made it with one butternut squash, two shallots, one tablespoon olive oil, a little of poultry broth, a glass of of fresh cream, a table spoon of nut oil, and I seasoned my soup with garlic, a pinch of salt and black pepper and a little nutmeg too."

Jim lifted the lid of the pan and the delicious smell of the orange-colored 'velouté' enveloped him "Even your 'simple' soup is a work of art. Mmmm…" then, petting Aztec's fur covered belly in his turn, Jim said, "I know, I'm sorry. But I'm sure that soup is delicious too, buddy." He patted Artie's shoulder soothingly. "Don't be sad. The swelling of your throat will disappear, it's a matter of time. You will be able to eat that 'French menu' too, soon."

He chuckled when Aztec started pawing its tiny little claws at his forearm, scratching at his blue bolero jacket sleeve. "Aw! She's adorable!"

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A week later in Hot Springs

Once the carriage had left, Jim and Artie holding a big bag each stopped in front of the large wrought iron gate giving access to the different buildings of the spa.

The older man took out the brochure he had in the pocket of his fringed jacket and opened it. He knew it by heart, but just to be sure he rapidly memorized the map and looked in front of him again. The main building was a large neoclassical style, two-storey central building, with smaller structures surrounding it: the bathhouses. They formed a semicircle or U-shape around the main building with formal entrances, outdoor fountains, promenades and other landscape-architectural features.

Smiling Artie headed toward the main cream-colored brick building, Jim in tow. "It's so beautiful and so peaceful," he said, with a thin and scratchy voice.

He earned a disapproval frown from Jim, concern marking every line of his face. "Shh, Artie. You shouldn't be talking."

Smiling reassuringly, Artemus waved his hand at his own neck continued, "I'm fine, Jim. I will rest my throat, I promise."

Giving his partner a pointed look, he asked, "You promise?"

Smiling again but with an eye roll this time, Artemus replied, "Yes, I promise. And I thought Grant was the mother-henning one." He paused and continued, "You know there are 51 hot springs in the Valley of hot springs and in local Indian mythology…"

Furrowing his brow Jim gave Artie a long look. "You promised."

Artie chuckled. "Later." He continued, "In local Indian mythology the Valley of the hot springs where the town of Hot Springs is located is considered a healing place." He pointed at the outdoor fountains and continued, "in each Spa of the valley, visitors are welcome to bottle the spring water for personal consumption. The springs are famous for their varied and distinct tastes: some are clear freshwater, others are saltier, and some taste strongly of sodium bicarbonate or sodium chloride."

Frowning, upset, Jim said, "I thought you wanted to rest your throat Artie? You promised."

Patting his best friend's shoulder soothingly, Artemus replied, "Once I'm a patient here, yes. Not before." He pointed at the outlying structures forming a semicircle. "They are individual cabins, and the other buildings are storage rooms and stables for the horses." He then pointed at another large building on the other side of the street. "And this is an asylum. It's not part of the spa, of course, but doctors working there bring some of their patients to the spa to help them relax."

It looked like a prison, Jim thought, with high grey walls and barred windows, he was expecting armed guards on each side of the large metallic door.

He chuckled. "You know the place better than the staff itself, Artie." He placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Let's go register."

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Later

Once their names were registered at reception the two men headed to their cabin and settled into their twin bedroom.

With that done, they decided to go to the bath house. Like the Ancient Roman public baths (thermae), the place had a pool of cold water, a pool of warm water and a pool of hot bubbling water, a mud bath and a swimming pool. It also had a massage parlor, a smoking room, a library and a restaurant. And, to finish, the complex had gymns where wrestling and boxing were practiced.

They stripped off their clothes in changing booths and exchanged them for a long bathing sheet that was provided (along with a large bath towel) and folded on a shelf and both headed toward the main hot spring bath (men only). The place was sizzling hot and the air was thick with the billowing steam surging from the heated water. They were drenched in sweat within seconds.

Cringing, Jim said, "I'm going to be steam-cooked."

Chuckling Artie rubbed slowly across his painful chest still aching from two cracked ribs he kept tightly covered with compression wraps — elastic hydrophobic bandages (he had invented so he could take a shower or bath without having to remove them). "Lobster like. Let's find an empty deck chair."

The wide, multi-leveled, blue tiled-pool occupied the center of a rotunda which was lit by the sun passing through an immense dome of colored glass which was supported by immense white marble columns topped with Doric capitals covered with gold. There was a large mosaic showing dolphins jumping above waves at the bottom of the pool and green marble covered the floor.

People were sitting on the edges of white grainy stone (to avoid slipping), water reaching their knees, conversing in a low voice, as others were sitting on a submerged bench, half out of the water drinking tea or coffee and others were submerged up to their shoulders doing physical exercises: moving legs and arms while grimacing with pain. Other people were swimming or floated on the surface of the deeper part of the pool, motionless, spread eagled.

Smiling Artie said, "It's perfect, just what my old cracked ribs need." He took off the long bathing sheet that was wrapped around his waist and torso, toga-like and tossed it over to the nearest deck chair along with the folded towel he had slid under his arm.

Then completely nude, he dipped into the steaming hot spring until the water reached his collarbones. He let out a deep happy sigh, reveling in the heat of the clear mineral-rich water getting into his 'old' bones. "Oh boy! That feels great," he said, with a blissful smile, his voice hoarse, his pale cheeks flushed from the heat, his expression one of pure bliss.

Following suit, Jim stripped off his own bathing sheet and placed it along with the bath towel on a free deck chair before sliding into the lightly bubbling water, up to his neck, giving a contented sigh as he leaned back against the edge of the pool, stretching his arms out to the sides. "This is very nice. What kind of water is it Artie? What does it do?"

Cupping water in his hand, Artie said, "This water comes from a sodium chloride spring, that's why. It has very interesting therapeutic effects, like sodium chloride also known as salt, that's why. Mineral springs naturally rich in sodium chloride are beneficial for rheumatic conditions, arthritis… etc." Seeing Jim's almost insolent smile, he huffed and added, "I don't have arthritis, just cracked bones. I'm not that old."

Shortly after, they were soaking in the steaming water, in companionable silence, feeling their naked bodies relax, not thinking, their brains taking a break.

Half an hour later, they swam a little and then headed back toward the edge of the large pool, leaning back against the edge, feeling lightheaded and sleepy.

Relaxed, eyes closed, Artemus drew a deep breath and said, "The last time I was naked in a hot pool, was 8 months ago, when I was staying with the Crows, but it was a natural one, not a man-built one. They have a natural spring with warm water above body temperature."

Placing a finger in front of his lips, Jim said, "No talking. You need to rest your throat Artie. So shhh. You promised."

Smiling Artie nodded.

Looking at his best friend's peaceful face, hot water lapping at their naked shoulders, Jim smirked and curiosity-driven he couldn't help but ask, "Let me guess, you were in good company, with White Crow, right?"

Opening one eye, Artemus grinned at his best friend, "I'm not talking," he signed. Then he slid underwater to tease Jim, letting bubbles escape his mouth like a child.

Grabbing the other man's arm, Jim pulled him up. When Artie emerged, water cascading down his face, flattening his hair on his scalp, he commanded, "Talk!"

Using his fingers to comb his wet hair back, Artie said, "Yes, it was White Crow. I miss her, a lot. I miss her very much, so much that on my next leave I will return to her band and spend those few days at her side. she asked me to come back to her."

Closing his eyes too, feeling his muscles loosening, Jim added, "You love White Crow." and then he sank deeper into the hot water, that simple movement making miniature whirlwinds in the thin mist of steam floating on the surface.

Closing his opened eye, Artie nodded. "More than that, I'm in love with her. I have known many women in my life, I have loved many, but none of them can be compared to White Crow." He sighed. "She's special, she's different… I miss her, Jim, so much," he ended.

Jim nodded. "I know buddy. Speaking of leave, we have a one week's leave scheduled at the end of the month, remember. I'm going to spend it alone I guess?"

Eyes shining with joy, Artie said, "Really? I had forgotten that! That's good news." He placed a friendly hand on Jim's shoulder. "Come with me."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "No, thanks." He patted Artie's arm. "I know that we spend our leaves together, but not this time. It's not because I don't like the Crows, they're admirable people and I like them all, but you need to enjoy your stay there, alone. If I was at your side, I would be a distraction, reminding you of work, of our partnership, of our next assignment… and you need to be totally immersed in the band's life, to be Strong Bear, in order to be able to fully rest… with White Crow at your side."

Pressing Jim's shoulder with affection, Artie smiled. "Thank you Jim, you're the best friend a man can have," he said. Eyes gleaming with mischief, he added, "You know, the last time I had a splash fight was ages ago… in that river in Colorado." He splashed some water in Jim's direction.

Smiling, Jim said, "I won it, but not here buddy and not now. There are a lot of people here. Most of them would not appreciate it. Later, we'll find a way to be together, alone."

Smiling too, Artie said, "Okay, not here but later then." Then he sank nose deep into the water, then sunk deeper, disappearing under the surface.

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The two men hauled themselves out of the hot spring water before they toweled themselves dry. They wrapped their naked bodies in the bathing sheets and after that settled in one of the private enclosures defined by white painted screens.

Feeling limp and boneless, Artie slumped in a deck chair and closed his eyes. He was already dozing off when in his turn, Jim took his place on a deck chair.

Seeing a man holding drinks Jim raised his hands. "Over here!"

The waiter came over to them and said, "I have some fruit juices sirs. I have orange juice, strawberry juice, raspberry juice, carrot juice and apple juice."

Jim took two glasses of apple juice from the tray, said, "thanks" and handed one to Artie, watching the waiter leave for other customers. "My last leave with you wasn't so nice, Artie," he said watching other people swimming in the hot bath. He finally noticed that Artie was sleeping peacefully, his head resting on his shoulder, the bath towel circling his neck serving as a pillow. "Sleep well buddy." He gulped down the two glasses of apple juice and put them on the small table placed between the two deck chairs. He suddenly spotted another waiter holding a tray loaded with sandwiches on the other side of the pool. "Mmmmm… sandwiches, God! I'm famished! Stay here buddy, don't move, I won't be long," he added before standing up, forgetting that Artie was sleeping, and he left, his stomach rumbling.

Turning his back to his partner, Jim didn't notice a giant pushing a wheelchair with a diminutive man sitting inside, stop beside the deck chair occupied by his partner.

Miguelito Loveless watched Artemus sleeping soundly and grinned. "What a delightful surprise! Artemus Gordon. If he's here, Mr. West is probably not very far. Voltaire, can you see Mr. West?"

The big man rapidly spotted Jim on the other side of the pool talking to a waiter and pointed at him. "Yes, Doctor, he's over there, taking sandwiches from a tray."

Loveless nodded. "Let's get out of here before he sees us. I want to keep my presence here a secret, until I reveal myself – just before capturing them. I'm going to need some help. I don't know how I will kill them, but I'll find a very special way to… "He suddenly clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming with evil intent. "I've just had a marvelous idea; I know how to get rid of Senator Paulson, Voltaire. Mr. Gordon will be my assassin – a disguised and unwilling assassin."

He grinned hugely.

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In the evening

Eying the hot mud bath suspiciously Jim hesitated before going down to the pool. Artie, as for him was already half-immersed in the hot dark brown lightly steaming mud steaming lightly, smiling, totally relaxed. "The last time I took a mud bath, someone tried to drown me in it," he said, unwrapping himself from the long bathing sheet he was enveloped in.

He dropped it on a bench where it joined Artie's and a bit worried, he asked. "Why did you remove the bandages from around your chest Artemus? You shouldn't have."

Looking up at his partner still on the edge of the mud bath, Artie said, "They were dirty and I forgot to bring new ones. Don't worry, the healing is almost complete now, I'm going to be fine."

He looked around him, admiring the Greek Ionic columns of white marble, the red tiles covering the walls lit by torches which crackled and flickered in the dim light. The cupola was simpler here, and smaller, built in concrete and covered with a vast colored mosaic showing Neptune holding his trident, aboard his chariot pulled by hippocampus.

Drawing circles at the semi-solid surface with his forefinger, Artie nodded. "I remember that mission. I almost froze to death in that feathered coat. My skin was blue. But we're alone here, Jim, there's no risk. All the customers are in the dining room. We have the place to ourselves. We'll eat later. Come on, buddy," he said." He started to cover his arms and shoulders with the warm, smooth, slippery mud, chuckled and continued, "My mother used to scold me when I stained my clothes with mud when I was a boy. I loved playing in the rain, digging with my hands in the muddy ground to build channels and dams with pebbles and small branches. You know, the mud bath treatment has been used for centuries to relieve muscular aches and pains like arthritis, and like Dr. Henderson said, it produces a feeling of deep relaxation that helps to reduce stress. It has relaxing and revitalizing properties too and it's proven to be helpful with skin disorders. Do you know that the mud here is a combination of salt water and local volcanic ash. Hot springs mud is taken from the area where natural thermal hot springs are found, like here, in… Hot Springs." He let out a long breath, relaxing his body.

Smiling Jim asked, "Is there any subject you don't know anything about Artie? You're like a walking encyclopedia."

His hand coming up to rub his chin, leaving mud lines on it, Artie replied a few seconds later, "Mmm… no. I read a lot of books and encyclopedias on everything, and I still do, as well as scientific papers." He lowered his hand to the surface of the mud, drawing circles there and watched Jim strip off his towel from around his waist. "On second thought, there's a domain in which I have gaps: women. A lot of things puzzle me like how they can talk for hours about little things such as bouquets of flowers or the color and motifs of a fabric, and I'm amazed – and a bit envious – at how they can do several things at the same time, while most men are incapable of it, and there's another thing I don't understand: why they always gravitate around you - and ignore me, with, fortunately, some exceptions to the rule."

Smiling, Jim lowered his naked body into the warm mud and smiled as he submerged to his neck, bubbles heaping up to his shoulders. "Some? Oh come on! You're exaggerating, Artie. You're a magnet to women too, but I have to admit that there are more women who gravitate around me while on a mission than around you – don't ask me why, I don't know - but when in Washington, it's the contrary. I bet you know all the lovely women in the Capital. " He joined his best friend in the middle of the pool letting the tension in his body work itself out and said, "I thought you were not jealous, Artie."

Sighing Artemus shook his head. "I'm not. I don't know what jealousy is. But I'd like to know – I mean scientifically speaking – why do you always have lots of women - around you when we are on an assignment, and I… well, cats."

Smiling mischievously, Jim responded. "Maybe because I am a women magnet and you a cat magnet; Artie, besides, women don't like 'old men'… By the way, you never told me you had problems with your arthritis, old man…"

Frowning in mock outrage, Artie scooped up a handful of mud and smeared it all over his best friend's face. "Be respectful of the elderly, young man! I'm older than you yes, 15 years older to be exact, but I'm not an old man, not yet!" Then, with a mischievous grin, he splashed mud outward at his partner. "I don't have arthritis by the way. Otherwise I'd be sitting behind a desk in Washington." Having said that, he sank below the surface to emerge seconds later, up to his shoulders, mud dripping, and then eyes closed, he wiped it from his face. "Boy! That feels so good!" he let out.

Seizing the opportunity, and withy a wicked grin, Jim pressed on Artie's head and tried to push him beneath the surface. Artemus resisted, pushing Jim back into the mud, leaving muddy handprints on the younger man's face and neck.

Smiling Artie proposed, "Mud bath wrestling Jim? What are you, 6? Okay. I'm in. I'm heavier, I'm stronger, I'm going to win. The first who finds himself with his back against the edge of the pool has lost and will pay for all the drinks till the end of our stay here!"

Jim smiled. "Deal." And his smiled vanished when a giant mud ball hit him square on the head. "Who is 6 now?" he asked, wiping the sticky substance from his eye.

A wide, mischievous grin splitting his face, Artie grabbed another fist full of the mud. "It wasn't me!" he said, feigning innocence, then he erupted into giggles. "I wanted a water splash fight, but we can have a mud splash fight, it's far better!"

Narrowing his eyes Jim scooped up a handful of bubbly mud in his turn and said, his voice low with playful menace, "Drop your weapon! Or I'm going to make you pay for that."

But Artie didn't and sticking his tongue out at his best friend, he threw his mud-projectile straight in his partner's face.

It hit Jim squarely in the face, with a splat.

Artie giggled childishly. "I'm the fastest mud-slinger in the whole country," he said. "You're no match for me, James West."

Dark brown mud dripping from his eyebrows, nose, lips and chin, Jim reached one hand up to wipe away the thick mud.

He splashed Artie back, right in the face. "You want a mud-splash fight Artie? Then you're going to have a mud-splash-battle." Then they started an all-out mud splash battle, laughing, chasing each other.

Finally, after a moment, without any warning Jim lunged at Artemus, catching both his arms and raising them above his head, knocking him off-balance after that so that the older man landed flat on his back in the pool of mud with a huge splash.

Then he flipped Artie like a crepe, effortlessly, and pushed his face into the mud.

Lifting his head, chuckling, Artie spat out the mud he had in his mouth and forced his right elbow up into Jim's side and managed to break free. "Not bad," he commented.

Facing each other, wet streaks of mud slithering down their hair and cheeks and dripping from their chins, the two men measured their strength, trying to push back the other and after a while Jim managed to make Artie take a step back. "Who's the stronger Artie?" he asked.

Chuckling, Artie sent a handful of mud directly into his best friend's eyes. "Okay, you won that fight, but I can win the mud-splashing battle."

Smiling, Jim wiped the mud out of his eyes and shot a handful of mud at Artie – who dodged it and splashed Jim back.

For a couple of minutes the two men threw mud at each other laughing and cackling with glee like two young boys.

Suddenly pausing, Jim frowned in concern as he saw Artie touch the back of his head, wincing. "Artie? You alright?"

The older man shook his head. "Owww! No. My head hurts…" He moved back hurriedly, half walking, half swimming. Dark spots danced before his eyes. "No, no, no. Jim… I'm going to… I need to…dizzy spell… I can't pass out here… drown… mud… disorientation…" He reached the edge of the pool and turned unfocused eyes in Jim's direction. "Jim? Help…me."

His body turned numb and the room began to spin around him. Suddenly, the world turned black and his knees buckled, causing him to slide down the wall of the pool, slowly sinking into the mud.

Swimming at top speed Jim was at Artie's side in no time. He lunged forward, caught the other man around his waist, holding him upright. "I've got you Artie, I've got you. You're safe buddy." Artie flopped against him. "You're safe."

Miguelito Loveless made his entrance, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by Voltaire with three goons in tow each holding a gun hidden beneath a towel. "No, he's not safe, and you're not safe either", he said, coldly. He lifted the blanket covering his legs and pointed a revolver at James West. "Is something wrong with Mr. Gordon? Is it why you're here?"

Jim shook his head, muddy hair sticking to the back of his neck. "It's a long story Loveless and I'm not going to tell you what happened." He hoisted Artemus onto the edge of the pool, the excess of dark brown mud sliding down his limp body, and took his pulse finding it rapid and erratic. His breathing was ragged as if he had run a marathon.

His face contorted with distaste, Loveless gestured toward the cubicles with douche sprays lining the wall. "Get rid of all that disgusting and revolting mud, in the meantime Garrett here will fetch your belongings." He snapped his fingers and one of the goons headed toward the door.

Completely covered in mud, Jim threw Artie (covered, from head to toe, in wet mud) over his shoulder and carried him into one of the cubicles.

Kneeling beside Artie, slumped against the tiled wall; he lowered a lever and hot water sprayed from several jets, both above and at the sides. Soon they were both 'clean' again.

Using the bath towels he found on a table, Jim quickly toweled himself dry and then did the same thing to his best friend, still passed out.

Loveless drummed his fingers impatiently on the arm of his wheelchair, still holding a gun in his other hand pointing it at West. "Wake your partner Mr. West; I'm not going to stay here all night. I'm a very busy man. I have many things to attend to."

Jim stopped the jets and tapped Artie's cheeks with one hand, slapping him gently back and forth. "Come on buddy, wake up. Artie!"

Moaning, Artemus opened his eyes and blinked tiredly at his partner. "Hey, Jim! What hap…?" He trailed off noticing Voltaire towering Loveless who was sitting in a wheelchair framed between two men holding guns. He sighed and gave a small salute. "Dr. Loveless, it's not a pleasure to see you again," Then he looked up at the giant dressed in black and added, "Voltaire? I didn't know you had escaped from the penitentiary. But Jim and I will send you back there soon."

Immediately Voltaire's black eyes flashed in anger and he bared his teeth predatory-like groaning like an angered grizzly bear.

Before Artemus could react, Jim stood and moved protectively in front of Artie. "Try me," he said menacingly, a look of defiance on his face.

Loveless nodded. "It's very recent, that's why. Plus the telegraph does not work very well in this country. But I bet that Mr. Graham Bell's newest invention that acoustic telegraph he calls a 'telephone' will soon revolutionize the communications in the country." He paused and added, "Anyway, my previous man-servant and bodyguard Achilles was killed in an unfortunate accident a week ago. I was searching for someone to replace him when I heard that Voltaire would be transferred to another high-security penitentiary, after he almost killed three guards in his former prison. To get him out of the cell-car was child's play using mini bombs of sleeping gas, and here he is, at my side again. And you won't put him in prison again, because you'll be dead, soon."

Slowly standing up, Artie wrapped his waist in the bath towel and, curious, he asked the little man, "What are you doing here?", his voice raspy.

Loveless smiled. "The same thing that you are I suppose, taking care of my health." He pointed at Artemus's neck showing vivid blueish finger marks. "I noticed the bruises on your neck, Mr. Gordon. Did someone try to strangle you?"

Moving a hand to his still sore neck, Artie said, "occupational hazard."

Loveless then pointed at the massive bruising throughout Artemus's torso and shoulders. "And what about those marks here? How many ribs did you crack?"

Crossing his arms across his chest, Artie just glared at Loveless.

Loveless nodded. "And you're here to heal your throat and cracked ribs, I suppose. Well, chance or fate decided to reunite us again, isn't it marvelous?"

The two agents had both crossed their arms across their chest, both glaring at their Nemesis.

Loveless chuckled. "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, now that you're barely decent, let's leave that place, and don't try anything stupid. Though I have difficulties walking, I can shoot very well, and my men too."

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Later

A few minutes later they entered a small building located on the outskirts of the resort. "My private residence in the resort," Loveless said. "I often come here to ease the aches in my joints. As I am a generous donator, the Director offered me this humble abode… which is only the tip of the iceberg. I built a whole facility beneath this building." Voltaire opened a large door, revealing the two metallic panels meeting in the middle of an elevator. He pressed on a button and they slid open laterally to reveal a shaft. "Just another wonder of modern technology powered by that marvelous invention I'm quite fond of, electricity. Gentlemen. Follow me."

Artemus pursed his lips, huffed and crossed his arms, "Do we have a choice?" he asked, his voice rough and hoarse.

Miguelito Loveless waved a finger. "Don't be bitter Mr. Gordon, I will soon give you the opportunity to have another leave, a permanent one."

Unfazed, Jim snorted at that and Artie grumbled something inaudible.

They moved downward for a few minutes then once the doors opened, they entered a long corridor excavated out of the rock. It was lit with gas lamps. There were two doors on each side of the corridor the agents noticed, metallic and gray-painted and another at the end of the corridor, bigger and made with wood. "It leads to your other apartments, I suppose," Jim said.

Loveless nodded. "Voltaire, show Mr. West and Mr. Gordon their room. I'm sorry but I didn't expect any visitors, so the guest quarters are limited to an empty storage room."

The giant grabbed Jim's arm and Artie's arm and opening the closest door with his shoulder he threw them inside a dark room.

Dr. Loveless rolled his wheelchair and stopped it in front of the open door. "Try to have a good night's sleep gentlemen. I'll see you in the morning. And don't try to escape, Voltaire will keep an eye on you. He ended up in prison for months because of you, so he's a bit cross at you. He could for example break some of your bones, to stop you and make you suffer… And as I don't want you to catch a cold, I'm going to provide you clothes. I'm going to send someone to bring your belongings here."

Glaring again at Loveless, Artie said, "It's very kind of you. Thank you."

Smiling like a crocodile eying its prey, Voltaire slammed the door closed and locked it. The room was plunged into total darkness.

Jim sat down his back against the closest wall. Artie did the same thing and said angrily, "And I was thinking that this leave would be calm and relaxing… We can't avoid trouble Jim, trouble always finds us. Even when we're on leave." He sighed. "If we survive what Loveless has prepared for us, Grant will keep me in his office in a giant ball of cotton wool to make sure I'm okay and in no trouble."

Looking at Artie but not seeing him, Jim said, "You're like a son to him, it's normal he's worried about you. And there's no if, Artie. We'll come out of this, we always do – more or less in good shape." Frowning in concern he placed his hand on the older man's shoulder. "How do you feel Artie? Tired?"

Artie nodded. "My headache is still there but it's only throbbing now and the pain is bearable. But I'm very tired. I'm going to sleep now." He crossed his arms across his chest and rested his chin there. "Good night, Jim," he breathed before closing his eyes.

Jim patted Artie's leg. "Good night, Artie." He stayed wide awake, repeatedly checking if Artie was alright and sleeping tight.

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The next morning

Miguelito Loveless was practically jumping with glee when James West and Artemus Gordon each took their place in an armchair.

Two armed hulking thugs leaned against the closed door of the study keeping an eye on them ready to open fire anytime.

Sitting behind a big Louis XV style table with a telegraph on the right hand corner and a bottle of Sherry and a glass on the left hand one, Voltaire standing beside him, the diminutive man said, "I hope you had a good night's sleep gentlemen, because today will be a tiring day – especially for you Mr. Gordon. Mr. West won't have much to do, that's true, but he'll be very worried about you and anxiety can tire one easily."

Artie sighed. "Wrong choice, Doctor. I'm not in the best of shape. That's why I'm on leave and that's why Jim is mother-henning me. The recent weeks have been hard for me. I got knocked out, hard, a big ape cracked two of my ribs, an assassin almost throttled me and I still have dizzy spells from a serious concussion… I can lose consciousness anytime. Take Jim for the job, he's the one in tip top condition."

Jim smiled. "Thanks Artie."

Loveless shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, but this mission requires one of your most famous talents Mr. Gordon, and your partner here doesn't have it." He snapped his fingers and commanded, "Voltaire, open that trunk on the table!"

Immediately the giant dressed in black complied.

Loveless explained, "I took the liberty of sending two of my men to your train, gentlemen. I needed special things I could only find there. Don't worry, they were very careful. Your precious train is intact. But my men weren't when they came back. They were covered with bleeding scratches. Your cats attacked them – your pets are fine, don't worry. Though I can kill people without hesitation, I don't kill animals. I'm not a monster. Voltaire, pull out some of the things which are inside…"

Nodding, Voltaire lifted out a red-haired wig and a red and gold dress…

Surprised Artie stood up. "I recognize that dress and wig! They're mine. That's one of my disguises!"

One of the minions laid his hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down in the armchair. "Sit! And don't move!" he commanded.

Loveless nodded. "Yes, they brought me everything necessary for you to dress up like a woman Mr. Gordon, even your make-up box and your faux-jewels."

Frowning in curiosity Jim asked. "Why do you want Artemus to impersonate a woman?"

Loveless responded, "Why? Because I need to kill Senator Paulson. He's well-guarded, but his bodyguards and even he will never suspect an attractive woman of being an assassin. I don't have any female assassins amongst my personnel. It is a lack that I plan to fill quickly, but in the meantime, instead of a real woman I will use a 'faux' one: Mr. Gordon."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Artemus said, "You want me to disguise myself as a woman to be able to kill Senator Paulson? I won't do it! Never! I'm not an assassin!"

Loveless smiled. "I knew you would say that, Mr. Gordon. I could threaten Mr. West with a horrible death to force you to do what I want, but I won't – not because I don't want to, because I can't. I don't have any sophisticated machine at hand designed to give Mr. West a very creative and stylish death. You know that I am reluctant to use ordinary pressure tactics such as threatening to kill someone with a bullet in the head or to cut his throat ... that's what common criminals do. I am above that, I am an artist!" He poured himself a glass of Sherry and added, "I'm not in my usual hideout here - where my main lab is, it's my vacation hideout. I just have books and a small chemistry lab to occupy myself when I'm not in the baths, taking care of my aching joints. But, later, after this mission, I will kill you both with my latest invention." He paused to take a sip of Sherry and continued, "A friend of mine works in the asylum just across the street. As a doctor he needs to use drugs to calm his wildest patients and sometimes he runs out of drugs – there are too many demented people to calm down. So I prepare all kind of drugs for him to test on his patients, it's a hobby of mine." He set his glass down in front of him, and opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe and a vial. "Oh, don't worry, I won't test any of them on you Mr. Gordon, you could have… let's say bad reactions like hallucinations, spasms, and a cardiac arrest, and I need you to kill the Senator."

Paling, Artemus stiffened before he started fidgeting anxiously in his chair. "I can propose a list of female assassins… some of them aren't behind bars – yet," He said.

Loveless chuckled. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Gordon. But I'm running out of time. No, I'm going to give you something commonly used on asylum patients. It will help you relax and it will help you be extremely cooperative, because I'm sure that you are a difficult subject for programming."

Hearing that Jim shivered. It reminded him of what Professor Arcularis had said a few years ago after he had hypnotized Artemus.

His sixth sense started to ring alarm bells in his head.

Loveless continued, "Your strong will, will vanish. I heard you encountered Professor Arcularis… and you sent him to prison…"

Feeling his blood run cold in his veins Jim knew that there was a connection between Loveless and Arcularis and he glanced at Artie finding his face gray with dread.

Loveless continued, "Where he unfortunately died. But he had a son, Lyle. I asked his help promising him that he could kill you."

The two agents exchanged a surprised look and Jim asked, "You want him to kill us? But I thought you wanted to kill us. It's your most cherished dream."

Loveless nodded. "I know. Because I need his help, I will let Mr. Arcularis try to kill you, but first I will play with you, a little. You will be my puppet, Mr. Gordon." He cackled with glee. "I said 'try' because I'm sure he won't succeed. All the people who tried to kill you failed."

Smiling Artie said, "You first."

Loveless gave the older agent a black look. "You're right. I tried many times to get rid of you, definitively and I failed each time, yes. But I'm persuaded that one day, I will be able to kill you. me, not others, me, me, me, because we're linked somehow. I know that I will eliminate you, like the hunter knows that one day, he'll kill the evasive deer he's been pursuing for a long time. It can't escape indefinitely. Some day or another, the animal will meet his bullet. And I'm patient."

Hearing that, Jim chuckled mockingly. "You patient? Oh, come on! You're the most impatient man I know. You're like a child, you want everything, right away, and if nothing happens the way you want, you have temper tantrums."

Artie frowned, puzzled. "Linked somehow? What do you mean?"

Loveless glared at Jim then looked at Artemus. "Destiny has reunited us, my dear Mr. Gordon. Since the first time I met you, I knew that our lives would cross now and then… until one day, one fortunate day, I am able, finally, to kill the two of you." He grinned and continued. "Mr. Arcularis was enchanted at the idea to help me to have the possibility of killing you – so he thinks. And should be here tonight. He's a famous hypnotist. You probably know him under his artist's name, "Agbar the Great – hypnotist of the Sultan of Ramaputhra."

Resigned to what would happen to him, Artemus closed his eyes. "I get it," he said opening them a couple of seconds later. "You want me hypnotized and conditioned to kill the Senator. Why?"

Miguelito Loveless nodded. "Excellent deduction Mr. Gordon. Let me answer your question. Senator Paulson refuses to let me buy a large part of the mountains around here arguing that those lands will be part of a future National Park. But there is gold in those mountains, and I need funds to create more inventions. Once he is dead, I hope his successor will be more willing to discuss the price."

Jim nodded. "I understand, but what I don't understand, is why ask Artie to disguise himself as a woman? He could kill him more easily as himself, Artemus Gordon, special agent of the Secret Service. The Senator wouldn't refuse to receive him in his office."

His arms still crossed on his chest, Artemus frowned. "To make fun of me, no doubt."

Loveless smiled. "You see Mr. West, Senator Paulson is a very prudent man. A few people have tried to kill him before so he always has two heavily armed bodyguards, ex-gunslingers I heard, with him. The only times he's alone is when he's with a woman – and the fool doesn't think a woman can be an assassin… tsk! Tsk! Anyway, he loves red-haired women, can't resist being attracted to them, that's why I chose the red-haired wig. Once alone with the Senator, Mr. Gordon previously conditioned by Mr. Arcularis will kill him. Don't you think it's brilliant?"

Jim shook his head. "No. What about Artie after that? The guards will probably kill him on sight – even disguised as a woman."

Blanching Artemus gave James a long look. "Why thank you for pointing that out, Jim."

James smiled and continued with his idea, "I thought you wanted to kill Artemus and me with your latest invention. If Artie dies there, you won't have the pleasure of kilingl him using your machine."

Loveless nodded. "You're right Mr. West. Of course I considered the problem and found the solution. The solution is lying in the bottom of the trunk. I took the liberty of ordering my men to take your bullet proof vest Mr. Gordon. It's a formidable invention. You were wearing it the last time we met – and that's why you're still alive, and that's why those gunslingers protecting Senator Paulson won't kill you, except if they fire at your head, but in general they prefer to aim at the chest, targeting the heart. If they shoot you, then I'll send men to retrieve your body from the morgue, and thanks to your bullet proof vest, you won't be dead, just unconscious. If they capture you, I'll send my men to free you from prison. It's that simple. I have thought of everything – and of course I will have the pleasure of killing both of you myself gentlemen, much later."

Artemus raised his hand. "As the door of our train is open to you, I'd like to have my sewing kit. I can't wear my bullet proof vest under a dress. Not in its present design at least."

Loveless nodded. "You will have your sewing kit, Mr. Gordon. In the meantime, go back to your cell. Voltaire will bring you a lamp and a copious breakfast – but no forks and no knives of course."

WWW

Later

The flame of the lamp was so small that the cell (empty storage room) was almost plunged in darkness and the two men barely saw the contents of their plates.

Frowning, Jim was far too worried to have an appetite but the whole thing didn't stop Artie eating the scrambled eggs, the slices of grilled bacon, the sausages and the buttered toast. "I'm famished," he said, sucking his greasy fingers. "Oh come on, Jim, not eating won't prevent anything, on the contrary you have to eat to regain some strength. We haven't eaten since yesterday midday. We'll both need it. I intend to finish my leave, hopefully where no one will try to kill me."

Taking a grilled sausage Jim nodded. "I'm worried about you."

Artie nodded. "I know, and I'm worried about you too." He smiled. "You're giving me gray hair on a regular basis, my boy. But it's the life we chose to lead."

Jim chuckled. "I can't see any gray hairs on your head, Artie."

Artemus gave a short laugh. "Then I hide them well."

The younger man bit the end off his sausage and wolfed it down within seconds.

They both ate in companionable silence then, when the plates were empty and the coffee pot and cups empty too, they leaned against the wall, both satiated.

Suddenly Artemus pinched the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb. He closed his eyes under the assault of another excruciating migraine. Wincing, moaning in pain, he buried his head in his now trembling hands and suppressed a curse.

Jim cushioned Artie's head on his shoulder and said, "It will pass, try to sleep Artie. You will feel better after. I've got you."

Grimacing Artie said, "Thanks, Jim," the older man said and he found himself drifting into sleep and finally sank into it.

Tbc.