A/R: Sports medicine has only relatively recently become involved with the prevention of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, known as CTE, incurred during the performance of professional contact sports such as football. But I noticed another situation where this might have come into play but no one knew about the condition at the time...
DISCLAIMER: CTE is serious stuff; the following is making fun of the plot device only, not the condition itself.
Night of the New Assignment
The tall, thinly-built man stood on the back landing of the private railcar that was his objective. Somber in bearing, he patted his jacket's breast and felt the paper tucked inside the pocket underneath. This was probably going to be the hardest assignment he had ever been given during his employ with the Secret Service; his life wasn't in danger, but his usual good mood was already a fatality. He had drawn a bad hand, and even his skill at cards wasn't going to change it. He removed his hat, smoothed his moustache and knocked on the door.
"Come in" a voice called from within - the voice of fellow agent James West.
He entered the well-appointed train car, hat in hand as he carefully shut the door behind him. He looked around the room, reminiscing about previous time he had spent aboard the coach car that was the luxurious traveling base of operations for the top two agents of the Secret Service. That had been quite a few years and many miles in the saddle ago.
"Hello!" Jim West called out from his seat on a padded bench that would have been the envy of the Court in France "long time no see. Let me introduce you - Artie, this gentleman was one of the, er, gentlemen that took your place while you were on special assignment two years ago. He helped out when we had that owl case."
"Actually it was the Raven case, Artie" Frank corrected.
Artemus Gordon, who had been standing towards the middle of the car pouring himself a drink, smiled broadly. "No need to introduce me Jerry, we've already met" he said; the remark didn't seem to faze Jim at all. "Frank Harper was one of my contacts while I was away in Washington. Good to see you again." Artie shook hands vigorously with the visitor. "Can I get you a drink?"
"No thanks, I gave it up" Frank said in his usual drawl.
"I keep saying I'm going to give it up but I haven't managed it yet, have I John?" Artemus laughed as he finished off his glass.
"No Artie, but like I always say – ah, something about falling off a horse. Why are you here Frank? Does President Grant have a tough case he wants us to crack?"
"No, President Hayes hasn't sent me. Perhaps you should sit down, Mr. Gordon; I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
"I'll sit down too" Jim volunteered.
"You're already sitting, Jake" Artie observed. "But I, ah, think I'll join you." He found a chair and sat down heavily; it had been a tiring day and being called by his last name worried him.
"Gentleman, I won't beat around the bush" Frank went on as he drew the papers from his jacket pocket. "The Secret Service has decided to retire you both effective next week."
"Come on Frank, don't kid around" Jim said. "What's the assignment?"
"There is no assignment, Jim. The department is...concerned...that you might not be as fit for duty as you once were."
"Not fit? I'll show you fit!" West removed his special tear away shirt with one pull and started doing pushups on the billiard table.
"Looking good, Jasper" Artie complimented while his partner pumped up and down.
"It's not a matter of physical fitness, exactly" Frank said, slightly exasperated as he opened the paper and looked it over. "We have a summary of your reports over the last six years. The broken bones have mended, the cuts and bruises have healed, and I believe most of the scars aren't even visible. No, we're worried about your brains."
"Artie was always the brains of the operation" Jim offered. "My job was to get into fights."
"Yes, but I have the results here. According to your own reports, Mr. West has been knocked out by a blow to the head sixty-eight times while engaged in about...ah...one thousand fights. Mr. Gordon, you've been conked a total of forty-three times. These figures don't take into account how many times both of you were gassed, choked, or drugged. Not to mention being buried alive, smothered by elephants, burned at the stake, thrown off a speeding train and...oh yes, somehow getting hit by a cannonball."
"Buried alive? I've never been buried alive. Did you get buried alive, Jack?" Artemus asked.
"Not that I can remember" Jim answered after a pause.
Frank knew that there would be resistance. Most agents were reluctant about retiring from service; with the record of agents West and Gordon, it was going to be very difficult to convince them. In the past, the toughest and most challenging cases had gone to them and each had been solved with daring and cunning. You just didn't switch all of that 'off' with the stroke of a pen.
"I think we're fine" Artemus continued. "I can remember every disguise I've used down to the last detail; even the accent I used. Can I get you a drink?" he asked Frank again.
"No thanks, I...I gave it up."
"I keep saying I'm going to give it up but I haven't managed it yet, have I Joseph?" Artemus laughed as he got up to pour another shot.
"Listen, I don't mean in any way to besmirch your careers - you are both shining examples for everyone in the Secret Service. The home office thinks very highly of you and appreciates your achievements, but there comes a time when more able men take over the roles us senior agents used to fill."
"I bet President Grant is sitting there in the White House worried Dr. Loveless is plotting some new plan to take over the country" Jim said as he emerged from a doorway in a new shirt.
Artemus snapped his fingers. "That's it, Julian, it has to be. You don't send a telegram for something this urgent; you send an agent with the details."
"No gentlemen, I'm afraid the decision has been made - you both will be retired at the end of the week, with full pay and benefits of course. Uncle Sam takes care of those that served." Frank folded the paper and stuck it back into his pocket. "I'll be back on Monday to see you off; be sure to have all your personal effects packed and ready to go."
"Go? Have we got an assignment?" Jim asked. "Maybe it's Dr. Loveless we're going after again. We just can't seem to get that guy and make it stick."
Frank heaved a big sigh, masking his frustration. It was going to take a lot more agents to get these two to retire. "I'll see both of you on Monday." He put his hat on and exited the coach. He untied his horse from the railing of the car's observation platform and paused before leaving. There had to be another way than forcing West and Gordon out of their position; something that gave them both dignity and didn't give the service a black eye. If only they could be given...
That was it.
Frank waited impatiently for twenty minutes to pass; that should be about enough time, he thought to himself. He dismounted, tied his horse and stepped up to the coach's door and knocked.
"Come on in."
Frank entered again with hat in hand. "Oh look Artie, it's that agent that visited us last week - have you brought us that assignment from President Grant?" Jim asked. "I was just telling Artie that we were expecting you, it being Monday and all."
"Yes I have" Frank said as he bit his lip. He was going out on a limb, but he thought the home office would approve once his report was filed. "President Grant has sent me personally to give both of you a special assignment." He pulled out same paper from his jacket pocket as before, and only pretended to read from it.
"THAT'S what I'm talking about" Artemus whooped. "Jeff, I KNEW something special was coming - I could just feel it, I tell you."
"That's right. The President has been made aware of a plot against the country; we don't know who, but it might be that Dr. Loveless character again. This is going to be the longest assignment you've ever been on; you'll be deep undercover, working on your own without any communication from the office, other agents, or each other. It is absolutely vital that you keep a low profile and blend in and appear to be just another civilian."
"Wow" Jim exclaimed. "It's that serious? I can't just go as Jim West, Secret Service agent?"
"Believe me, if we could do it another way we would. We're going to send you to areas that are suspected of being where the next trouble will start. West, you'll be stationed in Mexico."
"Will there be senoritas there?"
"Undoubtedly. They'll be resistant to your charms, but you must NOT let them know you're with the government. Pretend you're a retired army officer."
"If they don't trust me, maybe a kiss will change their mind" Jim grinned.
"Will I have a chance to create more characters?" Artemus asked.
"Of course, Mr. Gordon. We want you to travel the country; we feel that maybe being a part of a troupe of actors is the best cover for you. You'll have full choice over who you play and where you go; we're doing that to introduce a random element in our, ah, search for Dr. Loveless. Are you two up for the challenge?"
"What do you think, Jerome?" Artemus asked.
"I think...I better brush up on my Spanish" Jim said. "Frank, tell President Grant we'll do it for as long as it takes; he can count on us."
"That's the dedication I expect" Frank said, putting the paper back in his pocket. "I'll be back next week to see you off. In the meantime, you might start planning how you're going to blend in with the public."
"No problemo" Jim agreed.
"I can hear the audience cheering already" Artemus chimed in.
"That's the team I expected to find. Until next week then, gentlemen - I'll go inform Colonel Richmond that you're accepting the assignment." Frank shook their hands and picked up his hat, replaced it on his head, and exited the coach. As he began to trot away on his horse, he turned and took a last look at the train. It sure was a beauty; he would recommend it be kept in use if possible. There might be a time, sometime in the future, when the newly relaxed lifestyles of West and Gordon would afford them the opportunity to heal and perhaps even regain some of their faculties; who knew, they might even be needed again. There was so much that was unknown about medicine that it left a great amount of room for hope. And with that happy thought, Frank rode off to the nearest town to make his report.
The End
A/N: Not only did the characters go through a lot during the series, but the actors themselves (and some stuntmen) suffered serious injuries. Today's safety precautions and technology simply didn't exist in the 1960s when stunts mandated even greater risk to life and limb.
While my young son was watching the shows with me, even he noticed how women were "swayed" from evil by the affections of Jim West. He used to joke by saying "Maybe a kiss will change your mind" whenever an appropriate scene would occur, so I just had to work it into the story.