Act Four, Part One ~~~~
"Time Flies, huh?" Jeremy Pike frowned and pulled at his chin. "No offense, Mrs Sparrow, but if this weren't Loveless we're talking about, I'd dismiss this whole business as nothing but malarkey."
"I saw what the flies did to that one poor man," she said quietly.
"Yes ma'am, I'm sure you did. And as this is Loveless involved, I'm suspending my skepticism. Now, you say Artie stayed behind?"
"To do some sabotage, yes."
Pike smiled. "Oh, that sounds like Artie all right." He glanced up as one of his men hurried over. "Hmm? Yes, Evans?"
"Mr Pike, a messenger has just arrived from the colonel."
And here came Richard Henry, his face flushed with pride at the importance of his mission. "Mr Pike, sir!" he all but saluted. He reached into his messenger bag, felt around inside it, then began rummaging madly through it, his face stricken. The poor lad nearly stuck his whole head inside the bag before he finally, with a great sigh of relief, found the message and handed it over.
Pike read it. "Well! It seems that Jim and the little girl have made it back to Washington safely." He glanced at Mrs Sparrow, whose delight and relief were written over her entire being. "He mentions the marble-melting chemical here," Pike went on, "so the colonel needs to be informed about the rest of Loveless' scheme." He looked at Denise. "Now, the little doctor didn't happen to drop any hints as to who might be the target he plans to use these Time Flies against, did he?"
She shook her head. "No sir. Well, except that he said they would be Uncle Artie's doom and," she tried to think of the exact words, "and would, uh, bring about the demise of James West."
Pike snorted. "Yeah, he always does like to target Jim and Artie! But who else is in danger from his happy little bugs?" He thought for a minute, then said, "Mrs Sparrow, I'd like to ask you to go tell Colonel Richmond everything you saw and heard in Loveless' lair. All right? And Mr Henry, would you kindly escort Mrs Sparrow to see the colonel?"
"Yes sir, Mr Pike, sir!" said young Richard enthusiastically.
"One 'sir' at a time is a gracious plenty there, Dick," Pike said, clapping the eager young fellow on the shoulder. "Now off you go."
Richard led the way back to his horse, mounted up, then gave Denise a hand up to settle her behind him. Excited to be messenger once again, young Mr Henry hollered, "Gee up!" and wheeled his horse to take them back to Washington.
…
In another part of the forest some distance away, a pair of Pike's men were searching for the lair's backdoor. The night was still full dark, but the waning moon shed enough light to cast stark shadows spearing out from the trunks of the trees.
"Hey!" one called to the other after a while. "Look at this!"
The second joined the first. "Whatcha got?"
The first one pointed at the ground. "That look like wagon tracks to you?"
The second hunkered down, the stock of his rifle propped on the ground. "Yeah, they might be." He glanced left and right along the direction of the slight impression in the ground. Pointing off one way, he said, "That's a mighty clear shot through the woods…"
"Yeah, and…" the other pointed as well, "it joins up with a narrow road just beyond that stand of trees there."
They both turned to look the opposite way, back into the forest, then exchanged a glance. "Kind of suspicious-looking hill there, wouldn't you say?" said one to the other. Hefting their rifles, they started for the hill.
A strange sound, like running horses but far too fast, alerted them that something was coming. Both men dove for cover.
A copse of bushes along the side of that uncanny hill uprooted itself, swinging upward. From under the opening door into the hill burst forth two wagons, moving faster than the two agents had ever seen anything drawn by horses move. The lead wagon, in the split second the men had to study it, seemed to be full of men. And the other…
"What was that thing, anyway?"
"I don't know. Looked kind of like… say, the pump on a fire wagon?"
"Hey!"
Something had detached from the undercarriage of the trailing wagon as it turned onto the road beyond the trees. That something went rolling and bumping along the forest track, coming to an eventual halt in a crumpled heap on the ground.
One of the agents thumped the other on the arm. "That's a man!" And they both took off running toward the inert form lying on the ground. They stopped a couple of yards away and aimed their rifles at him. "Mister?" one of them called out.
There was a groan in reply.
Well, he wasn't dead then. "You're under arrest!"
"Better than being under that wagon," came the response.
The pair exchanged looks again. There was something familiar about… "Mister, what's your name?"
The figure sat up and held his head for a moment as if afraid it might fall off. Then, apparently satisfied that it was still firmly in place, he looked up at the two men holding rifles on him. He reached up to his face and peeled something off his nose, wriggled the nose a bit, then said, "Well, your name is Clayton Hale. And yours is, uh, Billy… Billy Ray Tanner. Right?"
They frowned at each other. "Yeah…"
"As for me," said their prisoner, "for a while tonight I was Mike Murray. But now I might as well revert to being Artemus Gordon."
"Mr Gordon!" Instantly the rifles were withdrawn and Hale offered a hand to help him up.
Once Artie was upright and somewhat dusted off, the questions began. He held up his hands, quelling them. "Boys, we need to go report in to Mr Pike."
"Yes sir. Only… where're those wagons off to in such an all-fired hurry anyway, huh?"
"That," said Artie, "is what I was hanging on to the underside of that wagon for, to try to find out. But the thing was moving so fast and bouncing so hard, I couldn't keep my grip."
Tanner gave a low whistle. "Yeah, them's the fastest draft horses I ever saw! You'd think something was bitin' 'em, to make 'em move that fast."
"Yeah," Artie echoed, "biting 'em." He then added, "Which way to Pike?" and the pair set out leading the way back to the camp.
…
The trip to Washington in the wagons was astonishingly rapid. Most of the minions were hanging on to the sideboards of the wagon bed, eyes wide, jaws slack, tongues tied. It seemed like no time at all before they were rattling across the bridge over the Potomac and into the city.
"Stop!" cried Dr Loveless. "Stop, stop, stop!"
The driver of his wagon reined up, leading the other teamster to do the same. Loveless sprang to his feet, pointing ahead of them at a horse being ridden double. A man was in front, and behind him was a woman dressed in a rust-colored skirt and bright yellow blouse.
"There she is!" Loveless growled in a fury. "Oh! I was cheated! I've long wanted Mr West to see Mr Gordon die before his eyes - and once I succeeded. And now I had someone for Mr Gordon to see die before his eyes! But he cheated me of that! I will not be cheated again!" He eyed his henchmen in the wagon bed. "Mr Rafe! Take two men and capture Mrs Sparrow, then bring her to me. You know where I will be."
"Yeah, Boss." Rafe chose his men and out they hopped. Immediately the two wagons set off again at incredible speed.
"All right. Which way'd she go?" said Rafe. And the trio set forth to trap a Sparrow.
…
Artie read the note Pike handed to him and nodded. "Well, that's good to know. And you sent Niecie on to speak to the colonel?"
"Yep," said Jeremy. He waved a hand toward the door they'd been watching. "So all the birds have flown, huh?"
"As far as I could tell, yes," said Artie.
Pike nodded. "Not a bad idea to have a look though," he said. Summoning a few men, he instructed them to enter the lair and make a thorough sweep of the place. "And be careful!" he added.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when there came a muffled whump.
"What was that?"
With a grim look, Artie said, "I bet I know." He hurried to the entrance to the lair and cautiously laid the back of his hand on the metal door, then snatched his hand away again. "It's hot!" he called.
Pike frowned, his fists planted on his hips. "Hmph. Rigged it to burn, did he? And on a time-delay, hoping to trap some of my men inside." He shook his head, then looked around. "Well, don't see much point in us hangin' around out here any longer. Hale, you and Tanner stay here and keep an eye out for anything else happening. And the rest of you - let's load up and head back to Headquarters."
…
"Where'd she go?" Rafe said again after a bit.
Both his men shrugged, and Banjo grumbled, "Y'know, if the Boss wasn't so dern long-winded, we coulda been right on 'er tail 'fore she got a chance to up an' disappear so fast!"
"Hey, Rafe," said Finn. "Ain't that her?" He pointed at a building down the street with a sign out front identifying it as a hospital.
"Hot diggety, we found her!" exulted Rafe. "All right, boys, we'll cover all the exits an' wait fer her to come back out. An' give a hoot when she does." And they rushed to get themselves into position.
…
Richard Henry held the door for Mrs Sparrow to enter the hospital, then continued to hold the door as an old man came out. The old-timer tugged at the brim of his cap and bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "Danke," he said affably. "Danke, mein Herr. Gute Nacht… ach, nein, guten Tag!" and he pointed eastward to where the sky was just beginning to lighten. He paused, then gave a special smile to Mrs Sparrow, touching his cap once more. "Meine Fraulein."
Young Richard chuckled as the old fellow shambled off. "Funny old geezer, still trying to charm the ladies!" And escorting Mrs Sparrow, Richard inquired of the young man sitting at the desk in the foyer for the directions to Mr West's room.
Outside, the little old German went wandering off, turned a corner, then paused to bring out a cigarette. He lit it, holding it not between his first two fingers as an American would, but between thumb and forefinger in the European fashion. Pensively he puffed on it, then took it from his lips and whispered, "Very interesting…"
His sharp eyes had not failed to notice the three disreputable characters approaching the hospital. They had split up to surround the building, he saw. And the young man who had held the door for him - that man was known to be a Secret Service agent. The young woman with the agent he had not recognized, but he made it a policy always to smile at a lady. Women, after all, were good sources of information, the same as men. Leaning up against the wall that encircled the hospital grounds, he turned a number of fresh puzzle pieces over in his mind. So many rumors this night!
Word had reached him an hour or so past midnight of a large group of Secret Service agents being sent over to Virginia, apparently to keep guard over what amounted to a hole in the ground. Still later had come the note from Schwimmer informing him of a new case at the hospital just like the first one earlier in the day. Schwimmer had implored him to come in person. And so Vogel had donned a gray wig, powdered his moustaches and goatee, then ventured forth in his usual disguise of Fritzi Drossel, a harmless doddering old immigrant with still an eye for the ladies.
Schwimmer's information had been gold; the new case at the hospital was none other than the well-known James West! The head of the Secret Service himself had arrived shortly afterwards for the two of them to consult together. And so, through careful observations made while seemingly wandering and lounging aimlessly in the hospital corridor, Vogel had picked up more information, information he found disturbing. He continued to think it all over, leaning against the perimeter wall, smiling mindlessly, puffing on his cigarette, and keeping watch, incidentally, for any sign of the members of that odd trio to make a reappearance.
A substance that could melt marble! He was not sure if such a thing were even possible. But from what he had gathered, Mr West had seen it work with his own eyes. And it was to be loaded into an atomizer to spread the mist throughout the city.
Vogel shook his head. The Embassy was within the city. And a chemical would be apolitical; it would not reach the wall surrounding the Embassy and say to itself, "Ah! Beyond this wall is foreign soil upon which I may not trespass!" No, the chemical, if indeed it existed, would waft onto the Embassy grounds to melt that edifice the same as every other marble building in Washington.
If it existed.
Vogel wrestled with the issue a bit longer. Then he crushed out his cigarette, produced a small notepad and pencil from his jacket pocket, and wrote out a note. He would go immediately to the Embassy and have this note delivered to the Ambassador, in which he encouraged that all Embassy personnel be evacuated to Baltimore until further notice.
And then… What? What would he himself do then? Where would the next scene in tonight's drama be staged?
Ah… There was a saying he had heard, an Americanism: Who is minding the store?
Who indeed, thought Vogel.
Moments later, old Fritzi Drossel ambled off into the gathering dawn.