Act Two, Part Three
Word had spread quickly throughout the embassy that the invader had been captured. A dozen green-clad guardsmen sped along a second story corridor heading for the stairs, eager to be on hand for the entertainment of the interrogation. Not a one of them gave a second glance — no, nor even a first one — at a gorgeous blue-and-white vase standing in a corner of the corridor upon a waist-high pedestal. Certainly none of the guards thought to look back once they had passed the shadowy nook the decorative vase made, a nook big enough to conceal a man.
And so none of them saw Jim West slip out from his hiding space behind the vase. Having long since divested himself of the manacles by means of the key Artie had palmed to him, Jim now listened carefully for the sound of any more unwelcome company and, hearing nothing, set out for the nearest window, eased open the sash, and slithered through. Quietly he lowered himself out of view until he was dangling from the sill, hanging on with one hand as he did his best to shut the window again with the other hand.
His best wasn't quite as good as he would have wished; the frame stopped closing an obvious two inches above the sill. Any farther, though, and he'd risk shutting it on his fingers.
Well, there was nothing more he could do about that. He gave a quick glance downward, and seeing that the coast was clear, he let go of the window sill to drop to the lawn below.
Jim hit the ground and instantly rolled into a crouch, then scrambled for the covert of some shrubbery. Again he listened, and again he heard nothing. Wondering how Artie had managed to convince all the guards that his partner was safely under arrest again, Jim edged out of the bushes and glided around the side of the embassy, heading for a certain narrow window beyond which lay the Rumormeister's office, still waiting to be searched.
Now if only Artie could keep everyone busy until Jim was done…
…
Schwimmer made a soft squeak of alarm as the wielder of the knife thrust the interior kitchen door fully open with a bang. The Rumormeister and his man now found themselves facing a broad, beady-eyed, scowling visage — but to their great relief, a familiar one.
Putting on a winsome smile and notching up his charisma noticeably, Herr Vogel purred, "Ach, mein liebes Frau Hilda! Guten Tag, Liebchen!" He caught the cook's hand, deftly relieving her of the carving knife even as he bestowed a flirtatious kiss upon her gnarled knuckles.
Her scowl deepened as she snatched away her hand. "It is no use trying to charm me, Herr Vogel," she snapped peevishly. "You men, always trying to raid my kitchen! Well, it won't do! I served das Mittagessen well over an hour ago. As you were clearly absent while everyone else was eating, you must do without until das Abendessen is ready. You know the rules of my kitchen: I do not feed moochers in between meals!" She turned her glower toward Schwimmer, adding, "And that goes for you as well. Now, away with you both! Vacate my kitchen at once!" She stabbed a finger emphatically towards the inner door.
Vogel came to attention with a click of his boot heels and an impish gleam in his eye. "Jawohl, meine Kapitänin — at once!" he intoned waggishly. Then, giving an imperious snap of his fingers to his subordinate, the Rumormeister swept past the disgruntled cook to disappear deeper into the embassy, striding for his office as his man Schwimmer hurried right behind.
…
Countess Zorana sagged back into her chair, blinking in disbelief over what she had just seen. "The, the Phoenix!" she murmured in awe. "The bona fide, genuine item! And here, in my boudoir! The treasure I hired you to steal for me…"
"And I've delivered it," said Ecstasy.
"So you have, so you have." Zorana reached out a hand toward the Phoenix, then leapt to her feet instead. "But why?" she demanded. "Why are you here, and why have you brought that to me?"
Ecstasy gave a smiling shrug and spread her hands. "I've fulfilled my bargain with you, my lady."
"Fulfilled, faugh!" the other exclaimed. "You stole the Phoenix once before in supposed fulfillment of our bargain, only to double-cross me and set out to auction it off to the highest bidder. No, no, my girl, you're not here to keep your end of our agreement. No, you want something else from me." And she gave suddenly a most unladylike snort. "Hah! No doubt you want more money! A second twelve thousand for you to squander like the first! Well, you won't get it, not from me!"
"I do want something, but not another twelve thousand dollars," Ecstasy admitted. "I'll settle for two thousand — even one! All I need is enough money to get me well away from Washington City. Right away, and without those obnoxious Germans finding out what I'm doing."
"Germans? What Ger… Oh!" A smirk of recognition suffused the countess' face. "That, that bodyguard of Kutman's — whatever was his name — Koch! He's onto you? Kutman sent him to…"
"No, no, no!" Ecstasy cut in impatiently. "Kutman had nothing to do with it. He wasn't even there at the auction; that was Artemus Gordon, if you can believe it! No, Koch is actual some Vogel fellow, whoever that is, and he's trying to get the Phoenix, for… well… I don't really know who he's working for, but it wasn't Gaspar, I know that much."
Zorana smiled smugly. "Then you know very little indeed, my dear Miss La Joie! You should spend more time in Washington City, listening to the local gossip. Vogel, you say? Herr Vogel, the legendary Mr Bird?"
Ecstasy's eyebrows shot up. "You know him?"
Zorana made a small moue and a shrug. "Know of him, at least. I have never met him — or thought I had not, was not aware that I had, I should say. He is German, though, that much is true. And if he is working for anyone," she added musingly, tapping at her chin with a forefinger, "why, it must be for the descendant and heir of the original owner of the Phoenix! He, as I know very well, has been hounding the government of Bosnia to return the precious bird to him!" She laughed with a shake of her head. "Not that Bosnia will ever do such a thing! The Phoenix belongs to us now! We will go to any lengths, yes, even to war against Germany and against her haughty Emperor before we will ever turn over to him our beautiful national treasure!" She drew herself up to her full height, the fire of patriotic ardor flaming in her eyes.
"Say that again?" came Ecstasy's voice.
"I said, we shall go to war against Ger… Why should I say that again?" she snapped.
"Because when you say haughty Emperor, I know exactly with whom I should be dealing to sell the Phoenix, someone who will pay me every last dime I want for it!" With alacrity Ecstasy scooped up the Phoenix and its key, slipped them into their pouch again, and turned to go. "Adieu, dear Countess," she called.
A glittering laugh echoed after her. "But my dear Miss La Joie, you're not going anywhere!" said the countess. "Or rather, the Phoenix is not going anywhere. It is a Bosnian treasure, and here within the Bosnian embassy shall it stay. You, on the other hand," she added, reaching into a drawer of her vanity, "are no treasure to anyone at all. In fact, you are distinctly expendable, I should say." And from the drawer Zorana produced a dainty little derringer, aimed it at her departing guest, and drew back the hammer.
…
The window to Herr Vogel's office was locked — not that that was any impediment to James West. It took but a moment's work with his lock pick for the Federal agent to defeat the catch. In he went, softly sliding the window closed behind him. Now to find the Phoenix…
He first checked the paintings on the walls along with each of the suspiciously innocent-looking nooks and crannies of the room, searching for hidden safes, finding none. Pursing his lips, Jim turned his attention to the heavy furniture. He was just leaning down to inspect the underside of Vogel's desk when the door to the office sprang open. Instantly Jim tucked himself into the kneehole of the desk as two men entered.
"I am amazed, mein Herr," said a voice Jim didn't recognize, "that we have seen no one in the embassy except for Frau Hilda."
"Ja, that is curious, nicht wahr?" came a second voice, and this one a voice Jim did know. "But close the door, Schwimmer. Even if no one is about, I still do not wish for us to be disturbed."
"Jawohl, mein Herr," responded the first voice. A second later Jim heard the door click shut. A pair of booted feet then crossed the room. Skirting the desk, the wearer of the boots drew up the chair that belonged with the desk, the chair that Jim had pushed aside just moments before. The man then settled with a sigh into the chair and stretched his feet out full length up under the desk.
Right into Jim's face.
…
"Was ist los?" growled Baron Hinterstoisser yet again, glaring at the assembled guards. "Who is this man? Where did he come from?" he demanded.
"He… That is, he, ah…" one of the guards spoke up before realizing now was not the best time to be drawing attention to himself. Immediately he shut his mouth again.
Too late. "He what?" snarled the baron, planting his fists on his hips and looming over the hapless guard. "Explain yourself! Who is this man?"
Neither that guard nor any of the others seemed inclined to answer. The captive, however, was eagerly sputtering from behind his gag, throwing his head in all directions and yanking at the chains that held him bound to his chair.
With a flame in his eyes that seemed ready to flare forth and burn up all before him, Hinterstoisser fumed, "Release him! If none else will account for this debacle, he shall!"
"Jawohl, Herr Baron!" The men snapped to attention with a multitude of heel-clicks and hurried to obey.
Behind the baron's back stood a silent observer. His hands behind his back in the parade rest position — and a small item casually hidden within one of those hands — Artie watched the goings-on with minimal interest, his mind instead on the conundrum of what had become of his partner. Or rather his interest in the goings-on remained minimal only until the chains came off the captive and the gag was loosened from mouth.
"That's him!" the prisoner shouted, jumping to his feet. "That's the rat who cheated me! That fellow right there!" And he lifted one freshly liberated arm to point unequivocally straight at Artie.
