Act One, Part Three
Morning came, and with it the fog. Col Richmond's carriage took him through the muffled streets, then pulled up outside the office building to disgorge him at the steps. No sooner had he paid the cabbie and started for the door than a familiar figure in powder-blue materialized out of the swirling white.
"Jim!" exclaimed the colonel, slightly taken aback. Recovering quickly, Richmond greeted his agent with a handshake. They entered the building together, presented their credentials to the guard at the front desk, and were buzzed inside.
"Well, Jim, what happened last night? You and Artemus followed the professor?"
"Yes sir, and he was none too thrilled when we showed up at the same restaurant."
Richmond snorted. "Yes, I imagine not! But the girl. Who was she?"
Jim shook his head. "She never arrived. Artie and I sat a few tables away from the professor, one of us keeping an eye on him and the other watching the rest of the room - and we never saw anything of a solitary woman at all."
"So Montague dined alone?"
"Yes, and at the end, he came over to our table and gave us a brief but thorough reaming out."
Richmond paused in the act of pulling out his key. "He did? The professor? Amazing!"
Jim laughed. "He certainly did."
"Dear me, perhaps this girl has gotten to him…" He was just fitting the key in the lock when hurrying feet came rushing along the hall toward them.
"Colonel Richmond!" a voice exclaimed.
"Ah, good morning, Keeley," said the colonel as his secretary dashed up, breathless.
"You're in early, sir," said the secretary. He had his own key in hand, looking somewhat nonplused to be arriving later than his boss.
Richmond let them all in and crossed immediately to the door of the inner office. "Coffee, please, Keeley," he said.
The secretary nodded and left the anteroom just as the colonel grasped the knob of his own door and turned it.
Or tried to turn it. It was locked.
Richmond's brows climbed. "Artemus?" he called. He rattled the knob. "Artemus, open up."
No answer.
"Hey, Artie!" Jim added his voice as the colonel produced the key for this door.
When there was still no sound from within, Jim took the key from Richmond's hand and swiftly unlocked the door. "Artie!" he called again as he shoved the door open. "C'mon, Artie, I know you love to pull practical jokes, but this isn't the time for that. Now, where…"
He trailed off. Where was the question indeed! A first glance around the room as the colonel crowded in behind him revealed no sign of Artemus Gordon.
"Artie?"
"Oh no. Jim! The safe! The Phoenix!" For in the corner of the office, the thick heavy door of the safe was standing wide open. Both men instantly headed for it, Richmond skirting the desk to the front and Jim toward the back.
Only Richmond reached the safe. He bent to look inside, then searched it carefully. "It's empty, Jim! There's nothing here. Nothing except for these… Jim?"
Silence replied. Richmond turned around.
Jim was kneeling behind the desk. "There's something here though," he said quietly.
Richmond jumped up and rushed to Jim's side. There on the floor, tucked part way up under the desk with a livid bruise sprouting on the forehead of his pale, pale face, was Artemus Gordon, lying silent and still.
…
Through the early morning fog with rapid strides a man hurried along, carrying a burden. What the burden was, he did not know; he only knew he had been strictly enjoined not to look under the all-concealing black cloth that covered it. His job was to act as the deliveryman and to ask no questions.
He did his job.
…
Richmond leaned over Jim's shoulder, his eyes on Artie's immobile face. There was a thin trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth, crossing his jaw and neck. "Jim," the colonel whispered hoarsely, "is… is Artemus…?"
"His pulse is strong, but he seems to be out cold, Colonel."
"But alive?" At Jim's nod, the colonel added, "Thank God. Keeley!"
"Yes sir, the coffee's here!" The secretary brought in a tray and set it down on his own desk out in the anteroom.
"Never mind about the coffee right now. Mr Gordon is injured! He needs a carriage to take him to the hospital at once."
"In… injured? Yes sir, right away!" He abandoned the coffee and raced off downstairs.
"You're going to be all right," Jim told his partner, his hand gripping Artie's. But if Artie heard his voice at all, he gave no sign of it.
"I'll get some men to help bear him down to the carriage once it's here, Jim." The colonel laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Artemus will be just fine very soon now. I'm also sure you'll want to track down whoever is responsible for this."
"Yes sir." Jim tore his eyes away from Artie's face and looked up. "And the Phoenix is gone as well?"
"Yes, Jim. The safe is empty of everything except these." He held out the puzzling items he'd found in the otherwise bare interior.
Jim accepted the items with a frown, turning them over in his hands. "Feathers?"
Richmond frowned as well. "Why would someone have left four white feathers in the safe after taking the Phoenix? What are they supposed to mean?"
"These look like they came from a pigeon, I'd say," put in Jim. "And they look like they were shed rather than plucked. But why feathers? And why four?"
"Well…" said Richmond slowly. "White feathers are symbolic of cowardice."
"True," said Jim. "But whose cowardice?" He frowned at the feathers a bit longer, then turned his grim face toward Artie once more. His partner was still motionless on the floor, his only obvious sign of life his slow and steady breathing.
Keeley, panting, appeared in the doorway. "The carriage is here, sir."
"Good. Round up some men to take Mr Gordon down to it. I'll accompany him to the hospital. Jim?"
Jim was sliding the feathers into a jacket pocket. "Yes sir. I'll be doing my own brand of rounding up," he said with a resolute set to his jaw.
The colonel nodded. "Where are you going?"
"Right here," said Jim, pulling out the business card Gaspar Kutman had given him the day before.
"I see. Keep me informed."
"Yes sir."
…
She was kicking herself mentally for not being the first cabbie on the scene as she watched several men carry out the inert form of Artemus Gordon and load him into someone else's carriage. As she saw Col Richmond climb into that carriage as well, a familiar figure in powder-blue bounded from the building and sprang into her carriage.
"The Frémont Hotel, please," he said.
Pitching her voice low, she replied, "Yes sir, Mr W… mister." She shot him a furtive glance; had he noticed that she'd nearly called him by his name? If he had, he didn't show it. His eyes were on the other carriage, the one bearing his partner away.
The cabbie clicked her tongue to the horse and set off for the Frémont.