Act Three, Part Three
Jim West awoke to darkness. The gaslights were dim; the only other illumination came from the moonlight pouring in at the window to spill across the inert form of Gaspar Kutman in the hospital bed. Jim, in the chair at the bedside, barely moved a muscle. Only his eyes were active, roaming over the room, taking in all that could be seen - which was, granted, very little in the darkness.
Something had awakened him. But what?
A soft click announced that the door was opening. Instantly Jim was out of the chair and next to the door, ready, waiting. And once the door was fully open and a shadowy figure slipped inside, Jim sprang.
"Mrph!"
Jim had the man immobilized in a heartbeat, one hand over his mouth, the other arm pinning the man's arms to his sides. He struggled in vain for a few seconds before giving up.
"All right, I'm going to take my hand away," said Jim. "You promise not to call out?"
The man gave a small tight nod.
"Very well. Then who are you and why are you here?" Jim removed the hand.
"M-Mr West," the man sputtered. "I'm the doctor!"
Dr Milburn? Jim turned the lights up to see the familiar middle-aged man straightening his white coat. "What are you doing here at…" Jim consulted his pocket watch. "…three in the morning?"
"Checking on my patient, of course!" Milburn crossed to the comatose man in the bed, had a look at his chart, then lifted his wrist. "Col Richmond informed me of your change in room assignments. I already chewed him out, but now that I have you here, let me do the same for you! It would have been far less traumatic for my patient to have come here by gurney rather than stuffed inside a janitor's cart!"
"Less traumatic, but also less discreet. We didn't want it known that he is now here, and my partner over there."
"Yes, yes," said the doctor crossly. He finished with Kutman's vitals and scrawled them down on the chart. "You realize," he commented brusquely, "that the top of this chart is all full of Mr Gordon's information. We have yet to make that change!"
Ignoring the doctor's bad mood, Jim nodded toward the patient. "And how is Mr Kutman?"
Milburn sighed. "Well, it's hard to tell, you know. He seems to have stabilized, so it's now mostly a matter of waiting - and hoping - for him to wake up." The doctor gave West a sharp glance and added, "And waiting is hard on you, isn't it? For a man of action like you, inactivity is not your strong suit." His gruff expression softened slightly. "Look, if you're tired of being cooped up in this room, why don't you go stretch your legs for a bit? Things are quiet right now; I'll stay with him."
Jim nodded. "All right. Thanks. I'll take you up on that." He collected his hat and headed out, giving a nod to the guard as he went past. He took the stairs at his usual breakneck pace and was soon outside. Once there, he roamed about getting some fresh air, automatically noting everyone and everything in the area.
Not that there were many people out and about in the middle of the night. A few nurses were entering or leaving, and about a block down the street stood a carriage, its horse shifting between the shafts, its cabbie bundled up in a cloak, head down, dozing on the driver's seat.
Why would a cabbie be parked out in the street at this time of night, Jim wondered. Casually he wandered closer.
The red glow of a cigarette within the deep shadows of the carriage caught Jim's eye. Hmm, the cabbie had a fare then. The glow brightened and subsided as the unseen smoker puffed on it. Seemingly looking elsewhere, Jim patiently watched, gradually putting together details such as the fact that the smoker was holding the cigarette reversed, in the European fashion, and that the face behind the cigarette was bearded, with the brim of his hat pulled down severely.
Ah, thought Jim, and now he strolled on, meandering about the hospital's grounds. So that's who the man in the carriage was. But why was Merle Koch keeping watch over the hospital in the middle of the night?
…
Morning came, and with it Col Richmond and a companion to visit Jim West. After Richmond introduced Special Agent Stan Wilson, he went over to have a look at the patient.
"Has he awakened?" he asked, observing how the man's great belly slowly rose and fell.
"No sir. Not yet."
"Hmm. And what does the doctor say?"
"He looked him over about five hours ago," said Jim, then filled the colonel in on the prognosis.
"I see." He stood watching the comatose man for a bit longer, then turned away. "Wilson will stay here and watch over Kutman, Jim. Let's go see Artemus."
…
The guard opened the door to usher them in. Artie in his fat suit was seated on the edge of his bed, tucking into breakfast, while Prof Montague, with his own plate of toast, eggs, and bacon by his side on the other bed, was fitting components together.
"Good morning, Colonel!" Artie smiled. "Morning, Jim. Care for some breakfast? We have plenty."
"Looks good," said Jim and helped himself while the colonel contented himself with some coffee.
"It is good," Artie agreed. "Far better than the bland slop - if you'll pardon that word - Merle Koch brought up last night." He paused, waiting for the reaction.
He was not disappointed. "Merle Koch!" exclaimed Col Richmond. "He was here?"
"In the flesh," said Artie and went on to describe the encounter. He concluded with, "But it's curious that the food this morning is a perfectly normal, if somewhat prosaic, meal. The supper last night was insipid in the extreme." He gave a shudder to illustrate just how very bland it had been.
Montague agreed. "Yes, it was the sort of food one would expect to be served to someone who is quite ill."
"True, whereas this…" Artie waved a hand over the repast. "…is more to the taste of someone who is, well… well. Now, I don't know why my diet was changed - not that I'm complaining, of course."
"Perhaps the doctor ordered the change, knowing you would prefer a normal diet," said the colonel.
"Hmm… Maybe."
"But getting back to Merle Koch," Jim put in, and now he filled them all in regarding his own overnight observation of the German.
"Oh? Watching out for his employer perhaps?" said Richmond.
"I don't know. If so, he must have forgiven Kutman for the change in the color of his eyes," Jim remarked, and he shot a glance at Artie.
They ate in silence for a while. Shortly the door opened again, this time to admit Richmond's secretary, Mr Keeley. "Good morning, sir. Here's the professor's valise." He set a cracked and battered brown leather bag down on an empty spot on the bed being used as a workbench.
"Thank you, Keeley. And you sent the rest of his luggage on to the train depot?"
"Yes sir, just as you asked."
"Fine, Keeley, fine. That's all then." The colonel turned away, but Artie, noting the longing look in the secretary's eyes, spooned up some of the eggs onto a slice of toast, crisscrossed some bacon over it, then added a second piece of toast on top. He wrapped it all up in a napkin and passed the sandwich over to the young man, who accepted it with thanks and headed off again with his breakfast in hand.
"Planning to get rid of me, are you, Col Richmond?" the professor asked jovially.
"Well, according to Jim, your most recent estimate for the completion of our bogus Phoenix would be sometime this afternoon, correct?"
"True, true, that is what we told him yesterday." He raised an eyebrow and shot a glance at Artemus.
"Now, once the phony Phoenix is ready, Professor, you'll need some way to conceal the real one as you transport it back East. I assume you've given some thought to this."
"Oh my, yes!" Montague drew the valise Mr Keeley had just brought to him closer and rummaged in it for a moment, then pulled out a small jug. "What do you think of this, Colonel? My, ah, medicine, shall we say?"
Richmond frowned. "That had better not be what I think it is!"
With a chuckle, Montague passed the jug on to Artie. "And you, dear fellow?"
Artie uncorked it and took a whiff, then whistled. "What is that, about eighty proof?" he exclaimed.
Jim held out a hand for the jug. Artie chuckled and splashed a little of the contents into his coffee before passing it on. Jim too took a sniff, then corked the jug and studied the earthenware container carefully. It was a normal looking jug with a ring-shaped handle near the spout at the top. Most of the body of the jug was dark brown, with the bottom third glazed a lighter shade of brown. Jim turned it over, paying special attention to the line where the lighter glaze at the bottom started, then took hold of the bottom and gave it a sharp twist.
"Excellent, James!" crowed Montague as the entire bottom of the jug unscrewed to reveal a hollow space inside. Taking up the real Phoenix, the professor carefully wrapped it up in a soft thick cloth, then tucked it into the clandestine hollow in the bottom of the jug.
"And the key?" asked Richmond, watching with interest as Jim reattached the bottom of the jug.
"That goes right here," the professor replied. He emptied the valise, then slipped the bejeweled key into a small crevice in the floor of the piece of luggage, hiding it completely. He now repacked the bag, tucking the jug in as well and cushioning it with a few articles of clothing and some scientific journals. "There we are, gentlemen. Everything's quite ready to go."
"Everything but the copy of the Phoenix, yes."
"Right, Colonel," said Jim. "And, ah, how much longer do you expect that to take, Professor?"
"Ah. Well. If Artemus is finished breaking his fast?" He turned a mock-severe look at Artie, who dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then stood and came over the work area. Artie looked over the various components littering the bed sheet and took one up. He held it up to the morning sunlight streaming in at the window, then with a flourish passed it into his other hand, closing that hand around it.
"Artemus…" said the colonel with impatience.
"Now, now, Colonel. Don't let your attention wander. The piece I picked up should be here, shouldn't it?" Artie unfurled his fingers to demonstrate that his hand was now empty.
"Yes, yes, you're a fine magician. But now is hardly the time…"
His voice trailed off as Artie leaned closer, then brought up his other hand, saying, "Why, what's this? Col Richmond, are you really in the habit of carrying a large golden orb behind your ear?" And lo and behold, Artie brought his seemingly empty hand up just beyond the colonel's field of vision, then with a flick of his wrist produced a glittering golden sphere.
"What?" Richmond clapped his hand to his ear and gaped in astonishment. "How did you do that?"
Artie smirked. "Now, now! Magicians never tell their secrets!"
"Magicians indeed!" Richmond accepted the sphere and studied it closely. "First you told me it would take another two days, if not three, Professor!" he protested. "Then you told Jim it would be ready this afternoon."
"Hmm, well, if you'd really prefer to wait a few more hours, give it back to me and I'll tinker with it some more," Montague offered.
"No, no. This is… satisfactory. Completely satisfactory." Richmond turned it in his hands some more. "That is, if it works?"
Now Artie produced the key. He accepted the orb from the colonel and passed both items on to the professor, who then wound it up and put the phony Phoenix through its paces.
"That, ah," said the Colonel as the device snapped itself closed again at the end, "that's not precisely the same as what I remember the original doing."
"True. But we didn't want to make it exactly the same," said Artie.
"And this makes it easier for us to avoid confusing the fake with the real," Jim offered.
"Yes, and should one of the thieves manage to make off with our copy, we want him to realize it's phony as soon as he tests the Phoenix."
"Or she."
"Yes, but what if the thief realizes too quickly that he merely has the copy of the Phoenix? Or she," the colonel added with a glance at Jim.
"Oh, by the time any thief makes that discovery," Artie replied, "Prof Montague here will be a quarter of the way across the country."
"Hmm. True. Well!" The colonel clapped his hands together. "Then we're all set. Professor, may you have a pleasant and quiet trip to Washington."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be traveling back to Denver first, to make it look like I'm simply returning home."
"Good, good. Jim, what are your plans for today?"
"To spend part of it watching over my injured partner," and he crooked an eyebrow at Artie, "and the rest continuing my investigations of Koch, Memphis, and Zorana. We want to keep the three of them off-balance as much as possible, as well as making them think we have no idea where the Phoenix is."
"Fine. And you, Artemus? What about you?"
Artie laid a hand over his heart and slid effortlessly into his death-warmed-over act. "I shall languish here upon my bed of pain until such time as the good Dr Milburn decrees I may repair once more to my luxurious suite at the Hotel Frémont, no doubt under the tender loving care of my dutiful Herr Koch, there to, one hopes, be contacted by Gaspar Kutman's confederates in his designs on the Phoenix."
"And chew a bit of scenery while you're waiting, right, Artie?"
"Why, James! You cut me to the quick! I have no need to gnaw on scenery, not after the excellent breakfast of which I've just partaken!"
Richmond rolled his eyes. "Fine, gentlemen, just fine. You two can make your reports to me this evening. And, Professor…" The colonel held out a hand and Montague clasped it in fond farewell. "Be careful. Never let that valise out of your hands."
"I will. That is, I won't. That is… Oh, you know what I mean!" He donned his coat and hat and took up the valise. "Good day then, Colonel, Jim, Artemus." He went out the door, bid the sergeant at the door a friendly adieu as well - much to the astonishment of the guard who had had no notion such a man was in that room - then headed off along the corridor in search of the stairs.
"Well, that's done," said the colonel. He frowned down at the remaining parts scattered on the bedsheet. "But why are all these still here?" he asked.
"Ah, well," and Artie set out explaining how the professor had deliberately overestimated the numbers and kinds of parts to prepare in advance in an effort to be sure they wouldn't run short. As he talked, Artie packed up the fake Phoenix into the case.
And while Artie was busy with the colonel, Jim stood at the window watching and waiting for Prof Montague to come into sight below. He was frowning, beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong, when at last the professor's slight figure emerged into view and strode for the street. He raised his arm to hail a carriage. Almost immediately one drew up and the driver hopped down to help the passenger inside. Jim watched as the driver regained his seat and half turned, no doubt listening to the professor's destination.
Then the cabbie shook out the reins and the carriage drove off, turning at the next corner and disappearing from Jim's sight. "All right, he's away," he told the others.
"And so should we be. Artemus." The colonel shook his hand. "I'll send someone by for the, ah, Phoenix later."
"Right, Colonel. Jim." Artie gripped his partner's hand and said, eyes twinkling, "don't spend all your time fretting over your poor ol' partner, languishing at death's door..."
A small smile lit Jim's face. "Oh, don't worry, I won't," he said.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh! Look at that! See? Here I am, wasting away, cut down in my prime, and do you even give me a second thought, James?"
Jim's smile broadened. "Nope. Not even a first one."
Artie grinned and gave Jim a little cuff on the shoulder. "See you later, Jim." He turned to help himself to another cup of coffee.
Jim and the colonel headed for the door, only to hear the guard speak loudly, "Good morning, Doctor! How are you doing this fine day?"
"Wishing it started later," replied Dr Milburn, fatigue evident in his voice.
The colonel stepped forward and opened the door. "Good morning, Dr Mil…"
Richmond froze in mid-sentence, staring past the doctor and the guard. Jim too was caught by surprise.
For beyond them both, out in the hospital corridor with a carpetbag in his hand, stood the ominous figure of Herr Merle Koch.
