Chapter 4
In a small room in the basement of the secret service headquarters building, sat a man doodling on a pad of paper. The only lamp in the room was turned low, and the lanky man had his eyes inches from the page. He had a long nose with a pair of spectacles perched close to the end. He was pale from lack of sun, and his black hair was long and oily. The room he sat in was cluttered with papers and pencils. Everyone who walked into that room claimed it was a mess except the two occupants who used it. One in the day and one at night. They had everything in a certain order that only they understood. The other man was sick at the moment, so Wesley had taken over his night shift.
The telegraph key clicked to life and Wesley slowly turned and copied the message on a pad of paper. He mumbled it as he wrote it, then quickly sent an acknowledgment. He slowly rose from his stool and shuffled down the hall to his boss's office.
"I got a message here for Colonel Richmond from Mr. Gordon."
"What! When did that arrive?" Wesley's boss jumped from his seat and ran to greet him.
"About a minute ago." Wesley pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.
"Good grief, man! What's gotten into you? Colonel Richmond has been waiting for this for three days now."
"Well how was I supposed to know? No one tells me anything," Wesley whined as he started back for his office.
The office that he worked in was not the normal telegraph office. The actual one sat three doors down from Colonel Richmond. Messages only came to Wesley's office if the telegraph upstairs was busy.
Wesley's boss watched him go before hurrying to his boss on the first floor. That boss took it to his boss, and it worked its way up until it landed on Colonel Richmond's secretary's desk. She was not there; she was in the Colonel's office serving coffee to him and the President.
The two men had had dinner together and had just returned to the Colonel's office to go over some papers.
The secretary stayed there for some time helping them, until their conversation became private. The Colonel dismissed her and gave strict instruction that they were not to be disturbed. She quietly closed the door and seated herself behind her desk. It was then that she saw the telegram. It was in an envelope, as all official telegrams were, and she turned it over and over in her hands trying to decipher what it said. She didn't mind bothering the Colonel but she wanted to be sure it was good news. Finally giving up on that, she mounted her courage and rapped on the door.
"Come in!" the Colonel snapped.
She entered timidly and quickly handed the envelope to him, making a hasty retreat. He smiled slightly as she left, then tore it open.
"It's from Mr. Gordon," he said, answering the President's question before he asked it.
He read it once, then read it again. Then he gave it to the President to read.
"What is he talking about? I wasn't aware they were having any difficulties," Grant questioned as he handed it back.
"I wasn't aware of that either," Richmond mumbled as he started for the door.
They made their way to the telegraph room and sent an immediate reply.
...
Artemus sat at the desk idly playing with his pencil as he waited for a reply from Washington. He hoped they'd send one soon, for he was bone-tired. His side still hurt and he was starting to get a headache. But curiosity was stronger than his desire to go to bed, so he waited.
Suddenly the key began to click, and Artie quickly wrote the message down.
"PLEASE CLARIFY THE DIFFICULTY YOU ARE EXPERIENCING," he read aloud for Jim. "What should I tell them?"
"I don't know, tell them what you want," Jim replied from his seat on the couch. He was engrossed in the paper he was reading and cared very little for the conversation Artie was having with Washington.
Artemus smiled mischievously, thinking that this was a way to get back at his partner for drugging him; he quickly sent back a reply.
...
Colonel Richmond read the reply handed to him, and his expression became even more puzzled.
"What does it say?" Grant asked impatiently.
"It says: Artie is feeling much better, no need to worry, signed Jim."
"What? Was Mr. Gordon sick?"
"I don't know," he scribbled a reply and the telegrapher quickly sent off.
...
Artie could barely keep himself from laughing as the reply came.
"WAS UNAWARE THAT MR. GORDON WAS INJURED STOP EXPLAIN PLEASE" he read to himself.
"What do they say Artie?" Jim asked as he readjusted his paper.
"Oh, nothing. They understand the delay."
"That's good."
Artemus smiled. His head was pounding, but he was having fun.
...
"STILL UNABLE TO LOCATE OUR ENGINEER STOP JIM," the Colonel read aloud as his face went red.
"What are they talking about?" Grant snapped.
"That's what I intend to find out," the Colonel snapped back as he took the telegrapher's seat.
...
Artemus instantly noted the difference in the message and smiled. The Colonel had taken over the key.
"START FROM THE BEGINNING BEFORE I WRING YOUR NECK STOP RICHMOND."
Artie laughed, wincing when it tugged on his injured side.
"What's so funny, Artie?" Jim asked without looking up from his paper.
"Nothing," he replied trying to sound innocent, "Just thinking." He typed out his message and quickly sent it.
...
"SORRY THOUGHT YOU KNEW THE DIFFICULTIES WE WERE HAVING STOP JIM."
Richmond's frustration had reached its peak, and he glared at the message wishing very much he could get his hands on West. Grant was annoyed too, and he took the key from the Colonel. The other occupants of the room had long since made their exit and were very happy they weren't Mr. West.
...
"ENOUGH GAMES WEST EXPLAIN YOURSELF STOP GRANT." Artie's eyebrows hit the roof when he realized the President had the key. He contemplated ending his game but decided against it. He was having way too much fun to stop now.
...
"ARTIE AND I HAD AN ARGUMENT STOP JIM"
The message stopped there and Grant angrily looked at Richmond. "Can't those two send a simple telegram?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe when they get back I should have them take a refresher course."
Grant nodded his approval as he sent his final reply.
...
Artie read the reply that wasn't worth repeating, and decided his game had gone on long enough.
Jim's ear had caught the rapid succession of the telegraph and he started to listen to Artie's reply.
...
"ARTIE WENT ONE WAY AND I WENT ANOTHER STOP DR THORNTON WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND SO I JOINED ARTEMUS IN WENTWORTH STOP HE WASN'T THERE STOP THE DOCTOR WAS AND THREW HIM IN JAIL THEN SEARCHED FOR GORDON STOP GORDON BEEN SHOT AND WALKING FOR A DAY, BUT I GOT HIM BACK TO THE TRAIN AND FIXED HIM UP BEFORE ANTOINE MOREAU SHOWED UP DEMANDED THAT I GIVE HIM THE DOCTOR OR HE WAS GOING TO KILL MY ENGINEER. I HAVE THREE DAYS LEFT TO FIGURE SOMETHING OUT STOP THE DOCTOR IS NOW ON THE TRAIN STOP JIM"
Grant smiled. Finally they were getting somewhere.
...
James glanced up from his paper and looked at Artie. "Hey Artie, why'd you sign that Jim?"
Artemus tried to hide his humor as he looked back at his friend. "I just thought the message might sound better if they thought it was coming from you."
"Who's they?"
"Colonel Richmond and President Grant," he smiled.
Suddenly not liking the way his partner was smiling, Jim rose from his seat and made his way over to Artemus. The key clicked and he read the message out loud.
"In the future, Mr. West, I expect you to come right to the point. Grant."
"What? Artie what have you been doing?" he questioned.
"Nothing, just telling them what happened," he smiled.
"Artemus Gordon, if you've gotten me in any trouble, I'll―"
"Would I do something like that?" Artie looked at him innocently, and stifled a yawn.
"Yes, you would, and just to make sure you don't cause any more trouble tonight, I want you to go to bed."
"That's not a bad idea," Artie stretched, winced, and hurried off to bed. He'd had enough fun for one night.
...
The next morning found Artemus Gordon in his lab, busily working. He had risen early that morning and was engrossed in what he was doing.
"Say Artie? Why would President Grant send me a million wires, all of which don't answer my very simple question?"
Jim stood in the door way of his friend's lab with an annoyed smile on his face.
"How should I know?" Artemus asked without looking up from his work.
"Because the President informed me that I created this game, and he was only playing by my rules."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Artie mumbled, as he adjusted the flame under a tube.
"Artie, I didn't send any telegrams last night, you did." Jim had approached his partner, his voice full of irritation.
Artie looked up from his work and ran his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. "Jim, I really am sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about, so please would you leave me alone so I can get this finished. We need to be thinking of a way to get our engineer back." He turned back to his work.
"But tell me, Artie, why would Grant, not the telegrapher, not Colonel Richmond, Grant. Ulysses S. Grant. Why would he reply to me in such a fashion?" Jim thrust the telegram under Artie's nose, forcing him to look.
With an annoyed look at his partner, Artemus took it and read. A slight smile played around his mouth, and he quickly handed it back.
"Well? You seem to have some understanding of what's going on," Jim demanded.
"I kinda sent some rather annoying messages last night, and I guess that's Grant's way of dishing it back."
"Is that why you were signing my name to the end of your messages?" Jim groaned.
"You don't think I'd sign my own name, do you?"
"Artie! You could get me into serious trouble." Jim looked accusingly at his partner.
"I think not, Jim. If the old man was playing the game today, then I highly doubt you'll get in any trouble."
"I'd better not…"
"Have you thought anymore about our problem?" Artemus asked as he turned his attention back to his work.
"Yes, and I've decided that I'll go in search of Orrin and you'll stay here and guard Dr. Thornton."
"Sounds good."
"Really? I thought it was a lame idea, but if you like it…"
"I think we're better off if we wait for Antoine to make his move."
"Now that sounds appealing."
"I thought you might like it," Artie smiled.
"At the moment, yes. Later I might reconsider." Jim returned the smile, and headed for the holding cell.
Dr. Thornton was sitting on the cot in the cell, angrily glaring at the door. "Is this the way you treat your guests, Mr. West?" he snapped when James entered.
"I was unaware that you were a guest," Jim flashed a smile.
Reaching for the keys, he unlocked the door and let the Doctor out.
"This is more like it." Thornton rose and straightened his attire. The Doctor was stick thin and had the longest fingers Jim had ever seen.
James led Thornton to the train's parlor, and seated the prisoner. Chaining his wrist to the arm of a chair, he smiled.
"Really? Mr. West, is this necessary?"
"I'm afraid so. I wouldn't want you to grow tired of my company and leave. Besides, you have a date in Washington that I wouldn't want you to miss."
"Why don't we get going then?"
"Because our friend, Antoine, decided to entertain our engineer." Jim had gone to glance out the window.
"I can drive the train."
"You?" Jim laughed.
"Yes, Mr. West. I can drive the train."
"Why am I finding that hard to believe?"
"Because you so easily doubt. It's a bad habit, and I dare say you have a rather bad case of it."
"Well it wouldn't matter if you could drive it. We're not leaving without Orrin our engineer," Jim smiled and left.
Jim silently entered the lab. Artemus didn't even notice, as he was in deep thought. Jim found it amusing to watch his partner at work. Artie hummed, mumbled, and even cried out with glee as he worked on his latest invention. Then with a final triumphant cry, he put down his pencil and turned to the door.
"Ah, Jim! Come have a look," he beckoned, with a smile on his face.
Jim arose and went to stand next to his friend. "Artie, what is that?" Jim asked, recognizing it as the same green liquid he had seen next to Artemus's nightstand.
"I haven't the faintest idea, Jim, but don't you find it entertaining?" He stuck his hand into it and pulled out a glob.
Jim instantly stepped back. Artie only smiled, and then rolled the green stuff into a ball. It became rubbery on the outside but remained a liquid on the inside. To demonstrate, he bounced it on the floor, and it bounced like a ball.
"How did you ever come up with that?" Jim asked, backing away from the ball as it rolled his way.
"I really don't know, Jim. It just came to me." Artie retrieved his invention and put it back into the bowl with the remaining fluid. It instantly went back to its original form.
"And what is that good for?" Jim asked, as his partner slid into his coat.
"As of yet, the only thing I know it is good for is burning. It's very flammable. I mean, very."
"And you're going to leave it there?" Jim eyed the bowl worriedly.
"Oh, no," Artie laughed, "No, I'll get rid of it, but right now I want some breakfast."
"Artie, look at the time. You missed breakfast. It's time for lunch."
"So it is," Artie smiled. "I guess then I'm off to find lunch."
They exited the lab together and headed for the kitchen, Artemus in the lead. Upon entering Artie busied himself with making lunch, and Jim sat on the counter in the small room.
"Artie, just how flammable do you think it is?"
"You'd only need about the size of a pea to blow this train sky high."
"You didn't try it, I hope?"
"No, it's only a theory I wish to test after lunch."
"Hmm, maybe. If we have time" Jim jumped from the counter.
"You thinking we're going to be busy after lunch?"
"Maybe." Jim smiled and grabbed a stack of plates. He took them to the living room and began to lay the table. Thornton smiled at him, amused.
"I didn't know you secret service agents did housework."
"Unfortunately, the government does not supply us with a maid."
"That is one thing I cannot abide about your government. They never give you the necessary equipment to do anything," the Doctor huffed.
"Oh, I don't know. I guess they figured a maid wasn't necessary."
Artie brought lunch from the kitchen and James moved the Doctor's chair to the table. Jim had only fastened one of Thornton's wrists to the chair and he thought he'd leave it that way. They Doctor voiced his disapproval, but he was ignored by the two agents, and quickly gave it up. When the meal concluded the Doctor threw his napkin on the table with a satisfied sigh.
"I will have to say, Mr. Gordon, you are a wonderful cook. I would be happy to give you a job."
"You hear that, Jim?" Artemus laughed. "He's offering me a job."
Jim smiled. "Like he's in the position to offer anyone anything."
"You may laugh, gentlemen, but I assure you that I am serious. And if Mr. Gordon ever tires of his current job I will gladly give him a new one."
"Thank you, Doctor. But I'm quite happy where I am," Artie smiled.
Thornton waved him away. "Never mind, Mr. Gordon. I can see you're dead set on ruining our life, so never mind."
Both agents laughed at the Doctor's apparent distress. Artie gathered the dishes and carried them to the kitchen
"Come on, Thornton, I'd better lock you up again," Jim said, rising.
"Must you really, Mr. West? It's so boring in there by one's self."
"You wouldn't want Antoine to walk through the door and see you, would you?"
"You are too late for that, Mr. West. I already have." The Frenchman called from behind.
Jim had his back to the door, and was in the process of releasing Thornton, but he froze. The Doctor's face went ashen and he stared at Antoine Moreau. Jim slowly turned around and smiled at his unwanted guest. Antoine had brought two of his men in with him, and they had their guns pointed right at Jim. Antoine lifted his cane and James lifted his hands.
"Please, Mr. West, do not do anything hasty. We're only here to collect our prisoner. Would you be so good as to call your friend?"
Jim's mind was racing. He couldn't let Antoine have Thornton, but there was really nothing he could do about it. The train was full of booby traps, but Jim couldn't reach the controls to any of them. Flashing his charming smile, he called for Artie.