SCENE THREE

'You are invincible.'' Miguelito Loveless said admiringly to his astoundingly enlarged reflection in the tall, gilt-framed mirror. ''Is there anything you cannot do? Is there any world you cannot make to live in?'' he went on to ask this wonderful vision of himself.

''No, none.'' that image responded with unruffled pride. ''The world I wish for is the world I shall have.''

''You have spoken.'' Loveless nodded to himself and turned back to Antoinette at the spinet.

The 'little doctor's' ego was at least twelve feet tall, so there was no doubt in Jim West's mind what Loveless saw when he looked in that huge mirror with the gaudy-Baroque gilt frame. The miniature megalomaniac undoubtedly saw himself a giant, a conqueror. And even when Kitty gazed into that same mirror, while Jim and Artie each talked like Dutch uncles trying to get her help; it wasn't much of a stretch to hear what she said and imagine what she was seeing there. She wanted what Loveless promised her. And she had to believe him; she had to believe the doctor knew her heart's yearning, and would give her that dream of beauty. No, neither of those things was surprising, much less shocking.

What shocked Jim then, and surprised him still, was what his own glance into the mirror. And considering what happened in the previous twenty four-plus hours, he wouldn't have thought there was much left to be shocked, much less surprised by. But Jim was, in fact, first he was badly chagrinned and then he was profoundly shaken. And those feelings, those reactions hadn't gone away in more than a fortnight now. Neither had the feeling of being at a total loss, neither had the wish Jim had half the time now that he'd never looked in Loveless' mirror at all!

First, there'd been an image of himself, only something on the order of fifteen or twenty years older. As might be expected, if only because it was much in the style of many of the men Jim West most admired, the first thing he noticed about this 'older self' was a full beard, dark, and just barely starting to show grey. Next, he saw a crowd shifting and milling, and pushing to get closer to him. They were reaching out, they were shouting, they were laughing far too loudly; they were applauding him, and pounding each other's backs. They were acting like a lot of toadies, in fact, the ones who weren't either acting like reporters, petitioners, and cronies, or aggravated Secret Service agents. They were all trying to get his attention, one way or another. And he wasn't able to move a step without stepping on one or more of their toes!

This older self, the younger Jim noted had also put on some weight, especially around the waist, and therefore looked both more prosperous and more self-indulgent. His face was paler than it had been at any time in his youth, and his shoulders seemed bent a little. There were more laugh lines around his eyes, and more worry lines creasing his brow, too in this not exactly mirror image. And he wasn't dressed as a 'richman's son', but far more soberly, much more like a politician!

''Wait! I'm not a politician!'' Jim the younger protested, gaping and glaring at this older self. ''And I never will be!''

''Who said you're looking at yourself, at me, that is, as just another politician? Jim the elder asked, grinning, all the while he kept a cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. ''Can't you see how the people around me are behaving, toadying and dancing attendance? Can't you tell from the way they're acting what duty I've 'reluctantly' taken on for the sake of the country, and the Man who best showed me how to face, and how to do that duty? And isn't that exactly what you've dreamed more than once of doing?''

''The Man?'' Jim the watcher echoed. ''The President? Are you trying to tell me I want to be President! That's outrageous! I don't want any such thing.''

''Are you trying to lie to yourself again? The bearded, older Jim demanded, frowning. And just when did that get you anywhere? And just what kind of honor does it do the Man you work for to deny you'd love to follow in his footsteps! President Grant would be delighted to see his protégé do just that, surely more than some of the shiftless, worthless other contenders! So why not admit it, you're seeing me, seeing yourself just the way you secretly wish you could be, someday, with the right friends and the right backing. Well, who's to say you can't be, you surely have all the right connections, James m' boy! ''

That very Artemusian phrase stopped the scene in the mirror cold and Jim shook his head, like a hunting dog climbing out of a pond, to clear it. That was definitely Artie's plaguing sense of humor. And even though Artie wasn't even paying attention, wasn't even in the doctor's parlour' at the time, Jim knew he was 'seeing' this image of 'James T. West as President', because he'd become long since infected with the actor's ironic wit. Jim started to laugh at his own weary imagination, and started to turn away from the strange mirror. But something stopped him and he turned back once more to face it.

Now, more than two weeks later, safely home aboard the Wanderer, safely en route to another briefing on another assignment, Jim felt himself almost physically pulling back, pulling away from remembering his second look in that mirror. And he felt himself almost mesmerized, nearly helpless to keep from indulging that memory. And Jim knew, more and more as time stretched between him and that 'asylum' and the horrors of the day before he woke up there, that his second look in Loveless' mirror, and his second reaction to what he saw there, was more true, more accurate, and far, far more impossible.

''What are you telling me, James?'' Artie was asking his partner, when the younger man looked back in the doctor's mirror. ''What are you saying? Or should I ask, what aren't you saying?''

''There you go again; getting all theoretically insightful on me!'' Jim in that second 'vision' protested.

''Well, we have been partners since October of '61, my friend; so I think I might know something about you, Jim.'' Artie said, grinning that knowing grin of his, the one Jim always pretended to be so annoyed by. ''Is this something you think I really don't know, or something you think I know and just haven't admitted to, after all this time? ''

''This is something …No, Artie, no, this is nothing, it's not … anything! It's just my over-tired, over worked, over excited imagination painting outlandish pictures in the doctor's mirror!'' Jim insisted, to himself as much as to the still grinning but now, more confused, image of his partner.

''Outlandish pictures, James; you're telling me that your imagination's painting outlandish pictures? Well, are they any good? Are they … James; is your imagination painting low, wicked, appallingly depraved picture? Well, c'mon, the least you can do after admitting to such a thing is let me see them!'' Artie in the mirror asked, laughing heartily now.

''NO! ''Jim shouted, fuming now, but mostly with himself for letting this can of worms come open.''NO! NO, YOU CAN'T! They're not EVEN real, Artie. They're just some kind of… just another of the little doctor's nasty tricks, or maybe just something left over from his last one! And as much as I admit to saying I'll miss Loveless, I'm not gonna miss his fondness for mind games, not even one bit! ''

''All right, partner, all right. Calm down, you just said these … pictures aren't real. So why worry? Why get yourself in an uproar about them? Loveless is gone, that's certain, he could never have survived, no one can survive more than five minutes underwater, James, not the healthiest man alive, which the small doctor surely was not. But you're right, he probably left this place crammed with tricks and traps and all sorts of unwelcome surprises. That's why the best thing you could do right now is put a few hundred miles between yourself and the late doctor's latest carnival ride.'' Artie said, and put one strong hand on Jim's shoulder.

This was a gesture the actor had used more times than Jim West could count, to reassure, to calm, or to turn all avuncular and chiding with his partner. It was gesture the younger agent admitted to himself seemed no more than that of a caring, older brother… Artie was the same age as the brother who'd died when Jim wasn't yet two years old, Anthony Andrew, named for both their grandfathers. Jim had never had any trouble with the way Artie instinctively patted his back or grasped his arm, or as now, put one long, strong hand on Jim's shoulder. It was completely brotherly, on Artie's part that much Jim was sure of.

But now, remembering the mirror-images/visions, Jim was badly torn between a desire to pull his shoulder, and himself sternly away from Artie's hand, a desire to soak up the haven that gesture gave him, now as … as always, he realized; and a desire to have Artie change his stance, put both hands on Jim's shoulders, and then … change that comforting, comfortable touch to … an embrace!

And exactly that change, exactly that shift from the profound, brotherly affection Jim knew Artie held him in, held for him, was what he'd seen in Loveless' damned to Perdition gilt edged mirror! He'd seen that change, and a great deal more, with all of it seeming as right, as natural and as certain as daybreak and nightfall. And that was exactly what he couldn't tell, couldn't even imagine explaining to Artemus Gordon! He couldn't tell his partner about these thoughts, these reactions, these startling-familiar wishes, not ever, not outside the not so nightmarish remembrances of those images that still chased him out of sleep these days; as much or more than the terrifying recollections of his 'shooting Artie'.

They had put several hundred miles between Jim West and the little doctor's 'asylum'. They were headed back across the country, now, in fact, and thus would soon be thousands of miles away from that madhouse; and all the things that happened there, and all the things that sent Jim West mad enough to be there in the first place. They were being called to report to the President, which duty Jim actively looked forward to meeting at least once a year now. And following that agreeable duty, another, far less welcome one would have both agents, and Dean Richmond appearing before the various Senate and House committees that held legislative and funding authority over the Service.

And if any of those political 'monks' up on 'the Hill' got wind of what's rampaging around in your head these days, James, old friend, the soldier agent thought. You'd be out of the Service, and out of Washington entirely as fast as the Secret Service' version of a courts martial could be empanelled, convened, with their verdict and their sentence already a given! Wherever he is right now, in Perdition or not, Loveless must be giggling up a storm at the notion of the storm the mere idea of what I thought I saw… the turmoil it could raise for the Service, the Army, the government and the President!

I know damn well and good what the Army would do; if I weren't retired from the Regular Army, years ago. They'd cashier my backside right out of there! They don't allow an officer, any officer to have any wishes, dreams or desires unless and until The Army issues him some! And they tend to call this sort of wishes, dreams, desires and what is worse acting on those things, behavior unbecoming an officer! Guess none of them went to the same prep schools I did. And as I was saying, so much for my Secret Service career, too!

I'm very sorry, I'm truly sorry, Mr. President, Sir, you can't have … someone like me as one of your special agents, your chief security advisors. The Democrats and the newspapers would have a field day with it!

''Someone like you, James, what in the very devil do you mean by that?'' Jim could hear Ulysses Grant demanding.

''Sir, it would be almost as much a scandal if I told you. And besides, except as a boy in prep school, I never thought … and, well, that was prep school, after all. Since that time, I haven't ever consciously considered that… No, no, that's not exactly true, either, Sir. But it was only when my partner was dying, when I thought Artemus was dying…and worse, when I thought I'd shot Artie at point blank range and outright murdered him… Mr. President, that part was in the first report I sent you, sir… You did read that report, didn't you, Sir?'' Jim now imagined himself, rather rudely in fact, in a way he wouldn't actually even dream of, asking 'the Man'.

''Yes, yes, of course, James. You were loathsomely drugged, and terribly deceived… mesmerized in a way, you said, to believe that appalling hallucination was real. But of course, anyone who knows you, and your record would never imagine or believe such a thing! Well, what's the rest of this, James? No, my young friend, I insist you tell me the whole story behind this suggestion that you must leave not only the Service, but also my administration.'' The President asked, and as Jim West knew from years of experience and observation, it wasn't truly a request.

''Sir, when I … thought I was coming out of that… hallucination… when I saw Artemus lying on the floor of that… what seemed like an abandoned stables… or barn, Sir… '' Jim started to say, knowing even without the authority of his office, he could never deny Grant's sternly compassionate questions their rightful answers.

'' When I saw Artemus lying there, Sir, He was … I believed, bleeding out, he was dying… And the revolver was still in my hand… almost as if it were … glued there… I couldn't seem to drop it… I dropped down beside him…

He was barely half conscious… Sir, it was only then, while I believed with all my heart that my partner was dying at my hand… It was only when I believed Artemus was lying there, dying, Mr President… that I knew… It was only then, that I knew… only then…'' Jim in the mirror-dream/memory whispered, but couldn't complete the phrase, not now; not to himself watching from outside Loveless' mirror, to the image of Ulysses Grant, or to the image of his partner.

None of the men the mirrored-Jim addressed said or did anything in reaction to this bizarre statement, Jim outside the dream noted. Artie was the picture of blinking astonishment, his dark bright eyes went wide as flying pie plates, his dark eyebrows went climbing towards his thick, coarse, dark brown almost to black hairline, and his broad grin started quirking up at one corner, in the way Jim often claimed to find exasperating. But Jim was absolutely certain that grin was about to give way to full-fledged Gordian rage and loathing, at any second.

''Wait a second! You only claim to find my superlative crooked grin exasperating, James m'boy? ''The actor's image in the mirror asked, smiling.

''Right this minute now, Artemus, as a matter of fact, I find it and most of your grins and smirks and such completely, completely exasperating! Jim scowled. Damn it, Artie! Artemus, were you even listening to the rest of what I … what he… what somebody who looks and moves and sounds a whole heckuva lot like me just tried to tell you? You pay closer attention to what people say than two thirds of the people I know, damn it! You insist you have to do that, so your danged photographic memory can take a picture… or make a record or whatever your danged…''

''Eidetic memory, James, eidetic, that means it's not just visual, and that's exactly the process you're talking about. Artie laughed. "I listen very closely to what's said to me, and around me; and in that way I'm able to give it back almost verbatim. It's an immense help when you're working with people who constantly drop cues, for instance. It also helps with recalcitrant partners who seem to think I'm not listening if I'm not looking right at them. I heard what you said, Jim. Honest. Do you want me to prove that right this minute; or is there something more you wanted to say, first? For example, why do you think I'm about to be enraged at, or worse, loathing what you just told me, especially since you clearly didn't finish whatever you wanted to tell me? ''

''Wh-Why do I?'' Jim scowled again, hearing himself almost stammering.' Because I can't run around leaping at conclusions, now can I? You hate that kind of so-called deduction and so do I? I can't … And I can't lie about this any more, since I already said it… And you weren't …you really weren't listening, not this time, were you, Artie?

Never mind, I'm not done making an ass of myself quite yet. You're right about that much, anyway! Artie, I can't make the kind of mistake now, as a grown man that it was okay to make in prep school! And it was just barely okay then, anyway! I can't assume things not in evidence, partner! And the evidence I might use for this sort of assumption … wouldn't hold up in court for an instant! It's ridiculous to even think it would, in fact! Just because you are and always will be an actor, just because you love almost everything there is to the theatre, plays, parts, actors, scenery…'' Jim went on.

''Only if I get a real chance to chew the latter, James m'boy.'' Artie laughed again, earning another superlative Westian style scowl. '' Oh, sorry, please, go on, partner, I'm fascinated.''

''Sure you are. Artie, what I'm trying to say is that I can't make assumptions about you, or draw conclusions either, based solely on the fact that you truly enjoy ballet and opera, not just plays, you love poetry and all kinds of music… and language… and all kinds of languages… It would be just as wrong as assuming you're a penny pincher or a usurer, or … ''

''A Shylock?'' Artie suggested. ''Well, I'd have to agree with you there, Jim. Oops, sorry, interrupted you again; it's always been my major failing… I suppose.''

''Except for all the times you interrupted somebody who'd just as soon killed me?'' Jim almost let himself relax and laugh, for a minute. '' Artie, am I getting through to you at all here? You like to dress the part … whatever the part happens to be, of course. But you love to dress for dinner, the dovetail morning coats, silk cravats, silk ruffled shirts, expensive suits, opera capes, and top hats… the whole nine yards. You carry it off really well, too.

You would have done really fine as the one of us playing the dandy, the rich man's son; if that hadn't been way too repetitious, or should I say, way too boring for you. And even adding those things to the rest of the list, I still can't just blandly assume that you are some kind of… popinjay. I can't do that, Artie, any more than I could assume you're some kind of roughneck, just because you know danged well how to look and dress and talk and move like a roughneck stevedore, right down to that tatoo. And I wish you hadn't got stuck getting that… honest…''

''James, don't be ridiculous! I've grown quite attached to my tattoo, really.'' Artie protested.

So have I, and to the man it's attached to. But I'm not about to say so, not right now! Jim thought

''And besides, it's no more than you would have done in my place, partner. We just happened to run into another band of bad guys who wanted to blacken your sterling reputation instead of mine, at the time. Wait, I don't think I've ever had a sterling reputation, have I?''

''Only in some quarters, partner. And I'm still not finished. But I'll try to pick up the pace so you can have time to laugh, or shout or cuss me out all you want to, after. I'm trying to say I'm wrong, Artie, and I know you hate it when that happens. I mean think about it, I proposed to Lily Fortune for you, Artemus! You were so much… You probably are still so much in love with her you couldn't get the words out… Remember? ''

''Vividly, James, just as vividly as I recall the champagne cork that popped just when I was making my own second attempt to persuade her, partner.'' Artie laughed, his dark bright eyes twinkling.

''That was… Well, I thought that was unintentional. Anyway, she turned you down, Artie and you were crushed and I thought… I felt really bad for you… But now, if these dream, this image, this scene in the mirror is … anything close to real…

Artemus, that's what I can't … that's what I'm not doing such a very good job of telling or not telling you… And what makes me think you'd want to hear it? …What in the world besides Loveless' mirror makes me even think…much less hope… ''

''Now there's an interesting question, James. What makes you think I would or wouldn't want to hear whatever this is that you're driving us both crazy, trying to decide whether you're going to say it? Artie asked him. Just tell me, for the love of G-d, Jim, tell me. It's clearly something you need to say… And true friends, as you told me you learned in prep school, tell each other…''

'' True friends tell each other everything, true friends share everything; except the past, before they met. ''Jim finished the quote from some old Greek text or other. '' All right, all right, I'll make another run at it, Artie. But I know … I do know you were only kidding. You were only plaguing me, trying to provoke my black Irish-Welsh temper, the way you like to … more than almost anything. You'd have that twinkle, almost, but not altogether hidden in your eyes… that laugh… riding just below your voice… So I knew, and I know you never meant what I thought you … said or meant … ''

''I don't suppose I'm going to be allowed to be the judge of that, at some point in this discussion? I don't suppose you're going to tell me what I said that was really only plaguing you or trying to provoke that infamous Torrance temper? And by the way, I'm not a masochist, James; I have no wish to provoke your temper. ''Artie insisted.

''Yeah… I know. Well, all right… Sometimes you'd say… sometimes you still say things like this: ' You know there really ought to be a law, James, about one fellow having as devil-may-care a heart and as handsome a mug as yours'. Jim quoted, giving a fairly decent rendition of the actor's voice. Or you'd say, ' You don't need any help with the latest conquest from me, Jim, not with that unstoppable, unfathomable Torrance charm of yours'.

Or you'd grin and wink and start to laugh and say: 'You're just too damnably good looking for your own good, James'm'boy…' Or you'd top all of those by saying: ''I'm clearly the consummate, unsurpassed brains of the outfit, James, while you're the heart-stoppingly dazzling brawn' … And you'd say that as if you really believed the second part, and, if it were true, which its not; as if there was something I could do about it! ''Jim finished, with something very much like one of Artie's best, most world-weary sighs.

''Bravo! Bravo!'' Artie laughed and applauded, smiling with what seemed honest pleasure and compassion. ''You've gotten much, much better at 'me', James m' boy, since the first time you tried that.'' Then the twinkle in his bright, dark eyes quieted a bit, and Artemus studied the younger man as closely as Jim in the mirror and out of it both wished and feared he would. ''Now, let's get to the root of the matter. 'What are you telling me, partner?'' Artie asked, his dark eyes wide, his expression still somewhat confused, and Jim knew that he was dreaming this 'conversation'.

'' Are you sure you want to know, partner?'' Jim demurred, sighing again.

'' I'm sure you've got my curiosity piqued, to say the least!'' Artie laughed, and the warming, booming sound was like an audible hug.

'' Well, it's like this, Artie… As it turns out, you're not the most gifted grifter, or con artist or swindler on Mac's team. You're not the preeminent liar, the finest imposter or the greatest actor in the Service, either.''

''Oh, really, James?'' the actor asked, frowning; but in the way that told Jim Artie suspected a trick or gag of some kind. '' And just who do you imagine is better at all those things than yours truly?''

Taking a deep breath, and turning away for a moment, Jim turned back and answered ''Yours, truly.'' pointing to himself.