THE NIGHT OF THE DISGUISED ASSASSIN
By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT FOUR
Two days later
French Embassy, Washington D.C.
Ballroom
President Ulysses S. Grant took a sip of Champagne and framed between Colonel Richmond and Dr. Henderson glanced around him.
He was searching for his new personal secretary having lost sight of him half an hour ago now. Artemus Gordon had vanished in the seconds following their arrival at the French Embassy.
No doubt he was in gallant company, somewhere, possibly with the Ambassador's daughter, Miss Charlotte Du Plessis, he thought.
He finally spotted the other man standing beside the Grand Escalier of white marble leading to the first storey. He was talking with three high-ranking military officers. One was a colonel from the German II Reich, another a general from the Russian Empire, and the third one another a Major from the British Empire. He observed Artemus, catching here and there words in German and Russian. He smiled proudly. His newest recruit spoke both languages fluently, with no American accent.
Stephen Henderson swallowed the rest of his Champagne and following the President's gaze he said, "Artemus is like a pig in clover."
James Richmond agreed with the physician and added, "And an excellent diplomat – and spy. He has an extraordinary facility for picking up errant scraps of information. I'm sure that he will learn many things tonight…."
As Grant and Henderson watched, Miss Du Plessis grabbed Artie's arm and they both headed toward a group of young women, looking absolutely delighted to meet the temporarily ex-secret agent. He smiled and added, "And possibly more from the women's chatting than conversing with men."
Ulysses S. Grant nodded. "I'm sure I will find a report on my desk tomorrow morning at first light." He said, as he fished around in the pockets of his jacket (loaded with two dozen cigars, a day's supply, the same as during the war), taking out a long, thick, cigar and a small pocket knife. "He's very talented, and his reports are perfect, detailed, precise and well-written." He opened the small knife and clipped the end of the cigar off, then dropped the cut tip in an ashtray nearby. "I make him read the other agents' reports before I read them, for a second look, another opinion, and he gave them back to me corrected and annotated. In two days I have already avoided two potentially grave political faux pas," He continued, pocketing the small knife. Then he raised his cigar to his mouth, placing it between his teeth. Then he pulled out a box of matches from his breast coat pocket, struck one against the side of the table he was standing close by, and lighted up his cigar. "I'd like to keep him as my secretary, but he's too good an agent to keep him behind a desk."
Richmond nodded. "Yes he is, Mr. President, but if you need him at your side again, he'll be more than pleased to be called to Washington on special assignment, to be your secretary again – or even work at the Treasury Department… As long as he can have lovely Ladies around him, and do a little spying too."
Grant took a deep drag from his big cigar and puffed out a long, slow breath of smoke. "I could replace him temporarily with Jeremy Pike," he said, tinged blue smoke escaping between his lips as he spoke. "Or with Frank Harper."
Richmond nodded. "Good idea, Sir. Jim and Jeremy are good friends, and Jim and Frank too. Speaking of Jim and Jeremy, they are on a new mission in Saint-Louis since this morning. The two of them like to work together."
Dr. Henderson approved. "It's a good idea to replace Artemus with Jeremy Pike or Frank Harper when he needs a pause, like now. Despite his reputation as a man of steel that is indestructible, he is only a man who sometimes needs rest." He frowned when he saw, like the President and the Head of the Secret Service saw too, the women grouped around Artemus – a dozen he counted – offering him glasses of Cidre Royal (a French cocktail made with a measure of Calvados topped up with cider) which he drank and French pastries stuffed with cream (he devoured) – as they were standing in front of the buffet. "But he must be careful not to drink and eat too much, because it's not good for his health. But I will keep an eye on him during his stay in Washington, of course."
Grant smiled. "I'm sure, Stephen."
Ulysses S. Grant smoked his cigar slowly for a couple of minutes, then he removed it from his mouth when he saw the French Ambassador heading toward him.
Pierre Du Plessis smiled broadly. "It would seem that Monsieur Gordon is grabbing the attention of all the pretty young women present here tonight, Mr. President."
Grant glanced at Artemus who, blindfolded with a napkin was now playing at blind man's buff. As he was the hunter, he was hunting the young women who were circling him – not too far away – but carefully avoiding his touch.
But he managed to touch a lovely blonde and she froze, giggling when Artie started to caress her face, trying to determine who she was. "It's Nathalie," he said.
The blonde shook her head. "No, it's Caroline. You lost Monsieur, and for that, I demand a kiss…" and she smiled when Artie kissed her on her cheek. "Not here Monsieur, on my lips…sur mes lèvres." And Artemus was more than happy to oblige.
Then, the game re-started. A few seconds later, he touched another demoiselle, didn't recognize her and had to kiss her.
Richmond chuckled softly. "That game is very interesting. Losing is more interesting than winning, and Artemus loses each round."
Henderson smiled. "And he obviously loves to lose."
Glancing at a few men watching the scene with envy and even jealousy, Grant said to Du Plessis, "I hope that my man won't have to fight a duel at dawn tomorrow morning."
The French Ambassador shook his head and smiled. "He won't, no, Monsieur le President. All the demoiselles playing with Monsieur Gordon are friends of my daughter and are not married, not even fiancéed. Even if one of the young men attending the reception was upset by the… kisses your man gives to them, he wouldn't do anything, because Monsieur Gordon's reputation precedes him. everyone here knows that he's one of the best special agents of the Secret Service, he's is very good fencer and very good shot. They wouldn't want to end up in the hospital." He turned around and clapped his hands. "I prepared a surprise for you, Mr. President. And I hope you will like it."
President Grant frowned, upset. He didn't like surprises. As a former military man, and now as POTUS he liked things to be planned in advance and proceed according to his predictions. Quite the opposite of surprises. "I like surprises," he said in diplomatic language not wanting to offend his host. But his instinct ringing warning bells in his head, he beckoned to Artemus – realizing too late that his agent had a blindfold and couldn't see him, and said, "Mr. Gordon!"
Artemus stopped playing blind man's buff and removed his blindfold. He immediately spotted Grant and said, "Yes Sir."
Chagrined, the lovely young women pouted. "Duty calls, ladies. But do not go too far, the game is not over, just interrupted," he said with a wink.
Charlotte Du Plessis kissed Artie on his lips and said, "Don't be too long, mon chéri. I'd like to have a private conversation with you on the balcony… where no one can see us."
Artemus smiled and, taking the young woman's hand, he kissed it, softly. "Later. The President needs me." Then he joined Ulysses S. Grant and in full special agent mode he asked, "Is there a problem Sir?"
Moving back, Artie following him, so that Pierre Du Plessis couldn't hear them, President Grant nodded. "Mr. Du Plessis has prepared a surprise for me, and my instinct tells me there's something wrong with it, possibly dangerous. As you know, my instinct never betrays me."
Frowning, worried, Artemus made a gesture with his hand and the four bodyguards protecting the President converged around Grant.
Du Plessis noticed it and puzzled, he moved toward. Once at his side he asked him, "Something wrong, Monsieur Gordon?"
Smiling, Artemus said, "No, nothing wrong, Ambassador. The President wanted everyone to be present for your surprise," he lied.
Du Plessis was reassured. "Good."
He smiled as he saw a man and a boy both dressed in black clothes enter the room. The boy was wearing a black leather mask covering his whole head. He was pushing a cart on which was sitting a big machine with a cylinder for recording and playing sound.
It was similar to one of his own devices, he thought, but his was more elaborate with a phonographic disc instead of a cylinder. It had a turntable protected by a circular lid, on which the disc was placed and was activated by a spring motor which needed to be tensioned before listening to a disc, by operating a scroll wheel. It possessed a tubular arm with at one end a needle allowing sounds to be played, sounds which were amplified by a removable cone-shaped attachment, the whole thing small enough to fit in your pocket. The speed was provided by a regulator. He used them to record voices, sounds, and music in order to distract an opponent or make him believe that he was in a place while in fact he was elsewhere.
Moving protectively in front of the President, Artemus lowered his hand to the small gun he kept in a holster at his side.
Pierre Du Plessis clapped his hands and said, "Dear guests, may I have your attention please?" And when everyone looked at him, he continued, "I met yesterday a fabulous inventor and his son at a restaurant! The Guzzinis! I told them that I was giving a reception today and Monsieur Guzzini proposed to come here tonight with his son to show us his latest invention, the device that you see before you, which can record voices and music and then play them back. He can record songs for example. I offer you the possibility tonight to record your own voice, solo or with other persons, then Monsieur Guzzini will offer to provide you with a small version of his device that you could use at home to play the recording again and again, as many times as you want."
Immediately there were 'aaahs!' And 'ooohs!' of surprise and pleasure.
Narrowing his eyes, clearly upset, Artemus realized that someone had stolen his invention, or stolen Edison's, which was based on his own invention.
Curious, the Russian general asked, "Why is the boy's head covered with a mask?"
Mr. Guzzini let out a sad sigh and said, "My boy was disfigured in a fire. The skin on his face melted and he lost his hair. As people were afraid of him, he decided to hide his head."
Immediately there were sad 'ooohs' and some "poor boy" and a few "it's so sad' and a couple of "'it's horrible, poor boy".
Focusing on the boy, Artemus felt that something was wrong… but couldn't put his finger on it. He scratched his head wondering what it could be.
The boy took the handle in his hand, actioning the cylinder and his father said, "But before we start the recordings of your voices, I'm going to let you hear a sample… Ready son?"
Nodding the boy let out a laugh.
Instantly Artemus's hair stood up on the back of his neck as he recognized that particular laugh, more like a cackle, which belonged to… Miguelito Quixote Loveless.
In a flash Artie thought: It is not a boy! Loveless has hidden his head behind a mask so he can't be identified. He is here! The President is in mortal danger!
But before he could react, Lyle Arcularis's voice resounded from the machine: "You're going to focus on my voice, on my voice only. Nothing exists but my voice. You will obey my voice… Black!"
Immediately Artemus froze like a statue, his eyes vacant, his expression was blank, stone-like. He was waiting for his orders, ready to do whatever the now dead hypnotist wanted.
Lyle Arcularis's voice commanded, "Kill Ulysses S. Grant!"
In a hypnotic trance Artemus moved to obey. He unholstered his gun and turned around, pointing the revolver at a stunned Grant.
Stupefaction which turned into anxiety and fear.
Richmond reacted instinctively. He grabbed Artemus's arm and pushed the other man to the side. There was a loud BANG!, the bullet brushed against the President''s shoulder and sank into the wall.
Everyone froze in place for a long moment, and then the flight started and people began to run in all directions, panicked.
Devoid of emotion, Artie raised a fist and hit the Colonel square in his face propelling him backward and cocked the hammer of his gun again.
Moving toward Grant, two of his hulky bodyguards from the USSS marshalled the POTUS out of the ballroom to put him in a safe place while two other agents leapt on Artemus, pinning him to the floor. Artie managed to push them off and stand up, hand already curled into a fist.
Colonel Richmond gave an order to the agents, "Stop him, but don't hurt him too much. He's not responsible for his acts."
Deciding to accomplish his mission: kill Ulysses S. Grant, Artemus needed to get rid of the agents trying to neutralize him. That's why he punched one sending the big guy stumbling backwards against a table. When the other man rushed toward him, he kicked him in the groin. The blond agent yelped and collapsed to the floor, grunting, red-faced, tears of pain rolling down his face. Artemus was rapid enough to duck the fist flying toward his face coming from the second bodyguard, but the dark-haired man was able to grab hold of the front of his jacket and he couldn't avoid the steel-like fist which collided with his face – twice.
But Artie barely felt it and in return started throwing punch after punch. He hit the agent in the face and in his chest. But the blond agent came back to help his partner. He rushed forwards, intent on knocking the Artemus off balance and into a Corinthian column. But Artie anticipated his opponent's intention and moving deftly to the side, he stretched out his leg to trip him up. The stumbling agent hit the marble column head first and crumpled to the wood floor, passed out.
Richmond had had enough. He reeled back and brought his fist down to connect with the side of Artemus's face. sending the other man partially down to the ground.
Following suit, the dark-haired agent hit Artie's head with the butt of his gun, sending him crashing to the floor. with a bloody and battered face.
Richmond knelt beside Artemus and took his pulse. Then he looked up at the blond agent. "Carter! Call an ambulance!"
Carter nodded. "Yes Sir!"
Miguelito Loveless who had stayed to watch the fight, hiding behind a table, hoping that Artie would win it and go after Grant, growled in despair and then frustration as his plan to kill Grant had failed, and seizing the opportunity given by the general panic, he tried to move the cart and the device out of the room, but he couldn't as the room was suddenly filled with policemen.
He glanced at his goon. "Take the cylinder! I can build another machine, but this cylinder is unique!" he commanded.
But Guzzini was pushed to one side by a group of panicked women who had grouped in a corner and that the policemen was evacuating - in complete disorder.
Upset to say the least, Loveless had no other choice but to follow them and abandoned his device and cylinder.
Once outside, the diminutive man met Voltaire, waiting for him on the sidewalk and the giant helped him to enter the carriage parked there.
Guzzini took his place beside the coachman and the vehicle moved away.
He settled on the seat, Voltaire taking his place in front of him, and suddenly realized that he could send the giant to retrieve his machine and the cylinder.
He was ready to say 'stop!' and to send him to do just that when, through the window he saw dozens of armed soldiers converging on the French Embassy joining all the policemen already gathered there.
He sighed. "Too late." Looking up at Voltaire he added, "Grant is still alive. Gordon was so close to killing him, but Richmond intervened!... But it will wait for another time." He pulled a face. Even if he could build a new recording-playing machine, the sole existing cylinder with Arcularis's voice was lost. He wouldn't be able to use it to control Artemus Gordon again and 'ask' him to kill Grant.
WWW
Later, at the Military Hospital
President Grant leaned over Artemus lying on a bed and shackled to it. He was immobile, staring at the ceiling, his eyes vacant, waiting for his orders.
His face was bruised and his lower lip spit.
Dr. Henderson nodded. "He's been like that since he regained consciousness," he explained. "He's still in a hypnotic trance."
Grant turned around and looked at Stephen Henderson standing beside the door, arms crossed on his chest and his brow furrowed in worry. "Tell me that he's not going to stay like this," he said, fishing for a cigar in the pocket of his formal jacket.
Henderson sighed. "I re-read James West's report on what happened with Lyle Arcularis before he was killed, Mr. President. There's only one way to 'wake' Artemus from that hypnotic trance state… Lyle Arcularis has to say the trigger word releasing his mind, "white."
Grant nodded. "I read that report too. He looked back at the 'absent' man. "The problem is that Mr. Arcularis was killed a few days ago."
Meeting Grant beside the bed, the physician nodded. "Yes, and I don't know what to do… it's like he's in a coma again."
Suddenly the door opened and the two soldiers posted in the corridor allowed Frank Harper to step inside. The moustached agent was pushing the cart on which the 'Guzzini's' device was sitting.
Frank Harper rolled it toward the bed and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. President, Colonel, but there's a way to 'wake' Artemus from his hypnotic trance."
Dr. Henderson nodded. "Yes, we know. But Mr. Arcularis is dead. He's not going to be able to say 'white" anymore," he said.
Harper shook his head. "He still can, Sir. After Colonel Richmond informed me of the situation, and ordered me to take the matter in hand, Jim and Jeremy not being available, I listened to the whole recording and Dr. Loveless has recorded Mr. Arcularis saying the trigger word 'white" releasing Artemus's mind from his hypnotic condition. I discovered too that he has also recorded Arcularis's ordering Artemus to kill James West. Then, to kill himself after that. I suppose that he did the recording to be able to use that machine on Artemus whenever he wanted, to have him at his command anytime he wanted."
Grant let out a long sigh of relief and grinned. "Then you're going to be able to free Artemus's mind from that hypnotic trance, good, good."
Henderson's enthusiasm was less apparent. Frowning he asked, "Do you think Dr. Loveless possess copies of that cylinder?"
Frank Harper shook his head. "No Sir. Following some testimonies of people there, Dr. Loveless wanted to retrieve the cylinder containing Mr. Arcularis's recordings. A witness told me that he had heard Dr. Loveless tell his henchman, "Take the cylinder! I can build another machine, but this cylinder is unique!" Then Artemus is definitively freed of Mr. Arcularis's influence."
WWW
The next afternoon
At the Washington Military Hospital
Looking at his feet covered with the blanket, avoiding the direction of Grant's eyes since he had 'woken up' his pummeled face aching and with a pounding, blinding, headache, absolutely mortified, Artemus mumbled, "I'm so very sorry, Mr. President, Sir. What I did is… is inexcusable."
Sitting on the edge of the bed, while a soldier unshackled the agent, the president said, "On the contrary, it's perfectly excusable. You were hypnotized, not responsible for your actions. You didn't try to kill me son, Dr. Loveless did, using Mr. Arcularis's indirect assistance."
Once Artemus's movements weren't restrained anymore, the soldier left with the shackles and closed the door behind him.
Reaching out, the President took Artie's hand in his and pressed it. "Look at me Artemus, you don't need to be embarrassed. You are the victim here. Dr. Loveless used you, without your consent. Fortunately Colonel Richmond intervened."
Finally looking up at the POTUS, Artemus said, "Yes, Sir. I'm glad he did. I could have killed you."
President Ulysses S. Grant nodded and fished around in the pockets of his jacket taking out two long, thick, cigars. "Stephen is going to keep you under observation until tomorrow midday, to be sure you are alright." Using his pocket knife he clipped the end of the cigars off, then handed one to the other man. "I want you in my office tomorrow afternoon, I have reports for you to read, I need your opinion before taking any action," he said, pocketing the small knife. Then he raised his cigar to his mouth, placing it between his teeth. "I'm glad you're back, son."
Tbc.