THE NIGHT OF THE COLD BLUE LIGHT (part 2 of 4)
byGorgolo Chick
Steady hoof beats and the creak of supple, well-tended tack were all that filled the unnaturally silent night as West rode up a long and winding lane. He passed at intervals between pairs of armed men who watched him steadily but without uttering a sound or offering any gesture, threatening or otherwise. The total absence of the noise of even the tiniest bug or largest night predator suggested far more strongly the dangers of this place than did those visible guardians. Whatever caused that silence loomed over him with chilling promise.
The warmth of the Louisiana summer night seemed even more fragile when he finally rounded another bend to find, rising up before him, the silhouette of a sprawling building lighted from within by a cold, vaguely bluish light. He reined in his horse for only a moment, however, before urging it onward, right up to the front steps. More of the silent guards stood on the moonlit porch, but made no move as he dismounted and approached the door.
It swung open, also silently, when he rapped on its surface.
West nodded to the guards, tipped his hat gently, and strode inside. There he found himself in a large, pleasant foyer well lit by the bluish glow he had already noted. The light sources scattered at strategic points about the room were hidden from direct view. To his immediate right was a curtained doorway, then a sweeping curved staircase that led to a balcony that overhung the far wall. Under it were two closed doors, and in each corner an opening that obviously led into passages off to the left and right. Centered in the wall to his left was a beckoningly open doorway.
Nowhere in sight was there any sign of human presence. The only sounds that came to his ears were the click of the door latch as it was drawn silently shut behind him, and his own muffled footsteps as he advanced far enough into the foyer to see a slice of the room beyond the open door. To all appearances it was as empty and ordinary, save for the lighting, as the room where he now stood. He turned and crossed to the curtained doorway. His natural movement was so quiet as to blend with the silence about him. It made him feel less like an intruder and all too much like a planned piece of this odd reality. The room beyond the curtain was lit only by the glow of the full moon outside; shining between the open draperies.
He turned back again to the foyer. Upstairs and downstairs beckoned new labyrinths, equally enigmatic and equally uninformative. He could call out, but since his presence was manifestly known that was unlikely to be productive. Whatever game had been set in motion by his arrival, he had already accepted its rules, at least provisionally, by coming here.
It was typical of dealings with Dr. Loveless that he had been left to work those rules out on his own. Evidently, he was now expected to explore, but experience suggested that his apparently endless choices of path were likely to be illusory. There would be some specific goal intended for him to find. Until he had achieved that goal, he would be barred from proceeding with his mission. It irked him to play so passive a part, but until he could gather more pieces of the puzzle, he had to take up the challenge as it was presented.
He crossed the foyer again and entered the lighted room. It was empty, but another door opposite where he had entered stood open.
For several minutes he worked his way through the house, until he found himself returning to the same hallways and rooms several times from different directions. He stopped in a long central room furnished as a lounge. Set in one wall was a huge stone fireplace, whose merrily burning fire was the only natural light he had encountered since the single moonlit room off the foyer.
To continue his exploration without any further clue was not only an unappealing prospect, but also one likely to be unproductive. He was missing some subtlety meant to guide him, if he could only pin it down.
By the fire was a Queen Anne wing chair that looked thoroughly comfortable. As he stood in thought, his gaze centered on this tempting piece of furniture. Slowly his lips stretched into a humorless smile. He walked quietly over to the chair and sat down.
An almost imperceptible click followed, and he was flung from his seat. He found himself sliding down a metallic chute that twisted and wound about before casting him suddenly onto a hard, cold stone floor in the dark. The speed of his slide and the height of his fall were sufficient to have done considerable damage were it not for his reflexes. As it was, he had turned his body in mid-air and landed in a bent-knee crouch with his palms flat on the stone. He steadied himself for a moment, then rose cautiously to his feet.
From out of the darkness surrounding him came a low-pitched giggle. As it built into a roar of laughter a second, musically feminine laugh blended with it. It was a sound he had heard too often to doubt its source.
"You see, Antoinette, how cat-like his movements are?" The high-pitched tenor voice commented. "Now, if we leave him in the dark he will begin exploring his surroundings almost as surely as if he could see what he was doing."
West unconsciously straightened his bolero jacket, then made a formal bow to the darkness.
"Doctor Loveless, and of course the charming Antoinette. I was honored by your invitation, sir. I apologize for the delay in my arrival, but I'm afraid I lost my way admiring your lovely home."
"Ever the perfect gentleman, Mr. West. But you're too kind. You haven't even seen the best part of my home."
Light flared up all around, the same cold, bluish light he had encountered throughout the house. He frowned at the room about him, but deliberately adjusted his expression to a warm smile as his raised his eyes toward the pair in the room above, which made a pit of the room where he stood.
There stood a small, lovely, dark-haired woman and an older man with the size and physical proportions of a dwarf. Each held in their hand an odd device shaped somewhat like an overgrown pair of opera glasses.
West considered his options for a moment, then chose to ignore the multitude of metal bars, bands, spikes and grotesquely jointed and bladed apparatus surrounding him and comment only on the devices.
"Considering your comments, Doctor, I assume those objects you are holding somehow allow you to see in the dark. A product of your own genius, of course?"
"What, this?" Dr. Loveless waved the device toward West carelessly. "Oh, a mere toy, a simple nothing. Just an idea I came up with while studying the properties of light. It amuses me."
"And this wonderful light?" West motioned toward the hidden light sources. "Surely it's artificial. A result of your experiments with electricity?"
"If you will, dearest." Dr. Loveless nodded to Antoinette. As the delicate young woman turned away, he looked down at his captive again.
"How very kind of you to recall my minor explorations into that field, Mr. West. Yes, I have extended some of my earlier ideas to an interesting conclusion. You will note that I have eliminated the disturbing level of noise produced by that first electrical candle."
"Most impressive. But then, your inventions and discoveries usually are, or would be, if only they were used for the benefit of all humanity."
"Oh, come now, Mr. West, let's not begin again on that tired old argument. You believe that human kind has value and deserves to be protected, while I find people to be a blight on this world and would dearly love to see them removed entirely. Surely we can agree to disagree for the moment at least."
West made a small bow of assent. As he did so, a soft melody seemed to drift down from above – the sound of a harpsichord played by expert hands.
"Besides," Loveless continued. "I am much more interested in getting your opinion on some of the other little toys I have invented. Of course, modesty forces me to admit most of them are mere modifications and improvements on ancient ideas. Look about you, sir. You stand amidst what is indubitably the finest collection that has ever existed of devices meant to obtain information, confessions, or pretty much anything else from a human being, be he willing or no."
West could feel his lips tightening as he forced himself to coldly survey the macabre furnishings surrounding him. He didn't think it was fear for himself that prevented him making derogatory comments concerning pride in a working torture chamber.
"Of course," Loveless' tone became taunting once more, "they also serve nicely for inflicting maximum punishment on those from whom one wishes nothing more than their suffering. Ah, but I wouldn't want you to think that a threat, Mr. West. If you will be so kind as to wait a moment, I will join you and give you a proper tour."
"Miguelito!" The music stopped with a discordant noise.
"Oh, don't worry, dearest." Loveless turned away from the pit. "I will be perfectly safe. Mr. West would never dare harm me while he is still awaiting word on the fate of the good senator. However, if it will make you feel better…" he leaned forward to gaze mockingly down at his prisoner. "Mr. West?"
"Doctor?" West smiled blandly up.
"Would you be so kind as to give Antoinette your word of honor that you will not lay a hand on me if I come down there to show you around?"
"Anything for a lovely lady." West raised his voice. "Antoinette, I give you my word to honor truce for as long as the good doctor continues to do so."
"Excellent, Mr. West. I find your terms most satisfactory."
West couldn't help but notice that although Dr. Loveless was obviously enjoying the 'tour' greatly, he seemed somehow almost to be passing the time in anticipation of something to come. He repeatedly began to hum with the musical accompaniment from above, but as often lost the thread of the tune without seeming to realize what he did. This was no more calculated to make West easy in his mind than the vivid descriptions Loveless gave of the effects on the human body of the various devices prepared for use at a moment's notice. He found his own thoughts dwelling on the expectation that Gordon would soon make his presence known, hopefully by some subtle indication.
For all the years they had worked together, he still thought his partner subtle. Yet while by comparison to West, Gordon's methods were devious, they were rarely understated.
It was a relief more than a worry when one of the silent guards entered the room and stood waiting to be acknowledged. Loveless scurried across the room immediately. West puzzled over the guard's actions as the man knelt down to quietly give his report, and passively maintained the stance while his employer performed a mad little jig of delight before dismissing him. He filed the oddity for future consideration, however, as Loveless returned.
"A most interesting occurrence, Mr. West. It seems that a roving band of gypsies has been discovered trespassing. My men have standing instructions to bring any intruders to me, of course. You might as well come along while I talk to the gentlemen."
He led the way out of the pit-chamber, his normal exaggerated gait now embellished with an occasional skip, as of childish delight. The implication of his behavior was becoming all too obvious, now. Somehow, he not only suspected that, despite his instructions, West was not working alone; he had known it. He had known that Artemus Gordon was no longer away on a separate assignment, as he had been for several weeks. He had actually been passing the time waiting for the second half of the team to put in his appearance.
He clearly had plans for the two of them.
West had to credit his partner with a definite score in their ongoing competition wherein West attempted to penetrate Gordon's disguises. He was certain that one of the group standing in an angry, irregular row before them must be him, but he could spot no clue as to which it was.
He took a quick mental inventory, noting that there was a close resemblance among them that was suggestive of family kinship. In fact, a pair of them who were constantly looking at one another and muttering and gesturing appeared to be twins. There were six others, none of whom stood out in his eyes. He quickly dismissed the differences in height among the men. None were of a height so different from Gordon's that he couldn't fake it, although one was distinctly taller than the rest. Two were older, probably uncles to what must be brothers or cousins, but the age spread was certainly well within the scope of the master of disguise. One man was noticeably paunchy in comparison, and seemed to lurk a bit behind, more sullenly angry than the rest. One had an odd distortion to his jaw line, suggestive of its having been broken in the past, and the last was an absolute average of the rest; by himself he might have been a bit exotic looking, but in this group, he was the least noticeable.
It was to the twins that the others seemed to look for guidance. They gestured the rest to silence and stepped slightly forward to address West.
"We insist you explain this at once," the one on his left told him. "This is a terrible thing,"
"To be attacked in the fields, then treated like bandits," the nearly identical man on the right finished. "We demand an explanation."
West lifted a hand toward Loveless.
"Here," he informed the pair with a small smile, "is your host. I fear I am nothing more than a fellow guest in this house."
The two turned their gaze aside, and each raised a surprised eyebrow, one on the left, and the other the right. There was a snort of disdain from the sullen man, but the twins again made mirror gestures silencing him.
They didn't speak further, apparently feeling that they had expressed themselves quite adequately already, even if to the wrong man.
"You were trespassing and you know it." Loveless looked intensely at each man in turn as he spoke. "I do not take kindly to having my property violated, and I especially don't like it when people try to sneak up on me." He was quickly becoming angry, and West guessed that it was caused by an inability to discern which of the eight men was a fraud. "You, lurking there in the back," he called out, "come out where I can see you." He thrust past the twins to reach a better position to see the others. He stared intently at the man to whom he had just spoken.
"You don't talk to the others," one of the leaders objected.
"You got questions, you ask me and Guillermo," the second insisted.
"You idiots," Loveless' voice was beginning to rise, "I don't want to ask questions, I want to get a good look at all of you. I know one of you is an imposter, so you might as well stop trying to hide him."
"Imposter?" "Impossible," they exclaimed almost in unison.
"Nevertheless, I know it for a fact. I will not let you convince me that your appearance at this time is some sort of coincidence. I will give you credit, Mr. Gordon…" Loveless' smile as he surveyed the group yet again had a jerky quality. "You have certainly managed to make the deception difficult to penetrate. One man would be obvious, but this is clever." He snaked a hand up and caught the coat front of the man standing nearest him; one of the elder pair. He jerked him down to eye level and ran his fingertips across the sun- and age-wrinkled face.
The twin leaders let out an outraged howl at this indignity, and only the raised guns of the guards spread about the perimeter of the room prevented the entire band from attempting sudden physical violence. Their reaction served, however, to drive Dr. Loveless out of the circle with the alacrity of a mouse that has realized he is under the gaze of owls.
"Curse you, Gordon!" Dr. Loveless' voice was rising in pitch. "Wasting my time on this senseless deceit. But never worry; I shall have you in a moment. You there." He turned to the guards. "Keep these men back until called for." Loveless hurried over to a nearby table and scrambled up a small stepladder onto it. "Now," he continued, "bring one of them over here."
When all of the guards started to move at once, Loveless squalled in frustration and ordered them back. "Numbers thirteen and seventeen, step forward." This time only two men moved. "Bring one of those men to me, but keep a good grip on him. No!" He waved the nearest guards to cut off the twins as they moved toward him. "Drat it, I said I will see you one at a time."
The two leaders exchanged a glance, and one promptly stepped back. The other positioned himself directly in front of Loveless. "So, gajo, you start with me and tell me what you want. Maybe I let you talk to the others, maybe no."
Loveless stared at him, then glanced beyond at the other twin. "Why you? He asked. "Why did your brother give up precedence to you?"
"Giuseppe is younger. Our father had already acknowledged me his heir before the midwife even knew he was coming."
"Hm, step back. You come here." Loveless gestured peremptorily to the younger brother. Both growled deep in their throats as they switched. Giuseppe assumed the same place and stance as Guillermo had used.
After trading glares with the gypsy for several moments, Loveless waved him away. "Now let me see…"
"No!" Giuseppe's objection was followed in the same breath by an echo from Guillermo. Giuseppe stepped back to his brother's side, and they exchanged low-voiced comments.
"I've had more than enough of the pair of you!" Loveless broke into their conversation. "Numbers ten and two, take these two men into the next room, and if they attempt to come back here without my express permission, shoot them both."
When they started to protest, West intervened. "Gentlemen, please. Our host is a man to be taken seriously. I beg you not to resist him or his men, because they will do exactly what he said."
"Always leaping to protect others, aren't you, Mr. West?" Loveless' anger faded into a smile. He turned to the twins. "Indeed, I have no scruples with having you killed, gentlemen. Don't push me, I warn you."
The men leaned their heads together again and exchanged a few more words. "We believe," Guillermo answered.
"We go, but…" Giuseppe paused.
"We warn you." Guillermo finished.
"Yes, yes, if I mistreat any of your band I'm very sure your wrath will be a terrible thing. Go now."
As they were led from the room Loveless gestured toward the nearest member of the rest of the band. "Him, bring him here now." The man, one of the older pair, stepped up to Loveless' table and stood with his head raised, staring over Loveless' head.
"Oh, I've looked at him, take him to the back of the room and bring me another."
The guards hardly had anything to do, as the gypsy moved away and was replaced by the second older man instantly. Loveless reached up and tugged at the sagging jowls, then pulled the man's face down level with his own. After staring intently, Loveless waved this one away, too.
The tallest of the group stepped up next. This one had a mustache, and Loveless quickly assured himself that it was real.
Loveless stamped a foot and shoved him away. The next man to come up to him was the one with the crooked jaw. Loveless gripped the man's shirt front and tugged him down to a level. He was grinding his teeth as he fingered the gypsy's prominent nose, and cheeks. "Not this one either," he mumbled. Suddenly, he dug his fingers in, just as they were at the edge of the crooked jaw. When he released, he stared. Where his fingernails should have cut into skin, a torn flap of putty now gapped loose bloodlessly.
"Ah, ha!" Dr. Loveless shoved this man hard straight at West, who kept him from falling. "Did you really think I wouldn't find you out, Mr. Gordon?" He immediately turned to the two guards who had stayed near him. "Take the rest of them, and those other two, out to dormitory B and lock them in. And be sure they are provided with whatever refreshments they require. And escort Mr. West and Mr. Gordon here to the dining room." He turned again. "You gentlemen will join me for dinner?"
"How could we refuse so kind an offer?" West asked. "Come on, Arte, I'm sure you're hungry." He reached up and peeled off the false lump from his companion's jaw. "It was a good try," he added.
Artemus Gordon washed down a last mouthful of the supper he had been served with a sip of wine. He wiped his mouth on a linen napkin, and looked across the table at his friend. "Ah," he commented. A most excellent meal, don't you think?"
"The cooking isn't bad, Artemus, but I don't think much of the service."
"I am sorry about the situation, Guillermo," Gordon responded. "But I will see to it that you get out of here."
"Yes, if you and your friend West aren't killed." Guillermo waved off Gordon's protest before he could form it. "No, my old friend, I do not accuse you of anything. You described the situation and your opponent very clearly. We all agreed to your plan, including Jacamo, when he let you falsify that disguise. But none of us are foolish enough to not realize that things could go wrong."
"That's true, but it would be very outside Dr. Loveless' character to hold any of you if he did dispose of James and me. Otherwise, I never would have risked calling in that favor you swore you owed me."
"We will not go into that matter. Had you not proven the truth of that series of crimes…" Guillermo shrugged expansively.
"It still might be better if all of you escaped now, and I send Jacamo after you."
"Not better for your mission. No, my dear twin brother," Guillermo laughed. "You shall now make up old Antonio there," he gestured to the older member of the gypsy band sitting at the end of the table. "To look like your Senator Long, and you will go find the senator, and you will make the exchange. Then we will leave and take the senator with us. And you will send Jacamo and Antonio back to us after this mad dwarf has been defeated."
"Guillermo, old friend," Gordon stood up, "I am proud to know you." He reached across the table to shake hands with his erstwhile twin. "May your caravans always find the best camping places, the sweetest water, and the most forgiving farmers and sheriffs."
"And may your life be long and robust," Guillermo returned. "Now, oughten you be to your work?"
With a grin, Gordon complied. A short time later he stood back to observe his handiwork. "All right, Antonio," he commented. "You'll do very nicely. Just be sure the guards don't see your face when they come in."
The older gypsy grinned widely. "It's the right of a respected elder not to have to speak to or even acknowledge the gaje," he responded.
"Which just makes the fact that you help me all the more of a true honor." Gordon bowed low from the waist to the smiling man.
"I'm not so sure you're really a gajo, Mr. Gordon. You sure you weren't stolen from the gypsies as a baby?"
"Not that I remember, uncle." Gordon clapped Antonio on the shoulder, and then moved across to speak with Guillermo. "Be sure you force the putty I gave you right into the lock, with the fuse solidly in the middle of it. And stand back, because while it only burns for a few seconds, it gets very hot."
"Even so, how much damage can so little explosive do? Even inside the lock?"
"It's not really an explosive; it won't make any noise. It's a chemical that burns, and it will melt the lock out. Just be sure you give the guards plenty of time to clear away before you use it. I'll wait and signal you how many they leave outside. And don't wait more than twenty minutes for me to check back in. If I haven't found Senator Long by then, I'll let you know. If I don't show up, the whole band better get out fast. If he's got James and I both, I don't think he'll bother to keep Jacamo for long."
Guillermo offered his hand again. "I do not easily call anyone brother, and none outside of the Rom. But I have called you brother, and I mean it. This is not a favor repaid – it is help for family, which the Rom never fail to give. I wish you luck, my brother."
"And I you, Guillermo, my brother." Gordon clasped the wrist behind the offered hand, and had his own clasped in return. They embraced. "We'd better be ready; the guards should be coming to clear away supper any time."
The rattle of the key in the lock came so hard on this comment it might have been a reply. Most of the rest of the band grouped behind Guillermo and Gordon, who was still made up as the ersatz 'Giuseppe'. Old Antonio, however, stayed seated with his back to the door, as well as to the table.
The entering guards gestured the group away from the table. They held their ground for a moment, then moved aside. While some of the guards, unarmed, began gathering the remains of the gypsy's repast, the band moved around toward the armed ones at the door. These responded by bringing their guns to bear. There was an exchange of muttered comments, and some of the gypsies moved diagonally closer to the door.
Gordon caught the eye of one man and held it long enough to snarl at him. He muttered a Romany curse and turned suddenly away, starting toward the back of the room. Guillermo, on the other side of the guards, began making demands in a loud voice. The guards all turned in that direction and two of the gypsies stepped between them and Gordon. Gordon slipped immediately out of sight behind the open door.
The band gathering again at Guillermo's back and his loud demands soon caused the guards to respond more actively.
"Everyone will move to the back of the room," one said in a flat-toned voice. "You will remain there until we leave. You will be silent."
"Not until we are…" Guillermo started to protest.
"If you do not cooperate, we will begin shooting until you do so." The threat – no, simple statement of fact – was accompanied by a raising of rifles to the guards' shoulders.
Guillermo waved his family back toward the far wall. "Giuseppe, make them stay back," he called. "We do as you say," he spoke levelly to the guard who had given the warning. "But we demand…"
"No demands. Behave and you shall soon be released. Do not and you shall all be shot."
During the exchange, the armed guards had all moved forward, with their backs to the open door. In that moment, Gordon slipped around it and out of the building.
"Some days," he muttered softly, "things go too well. Makes me nervous."
He settled himself in the shadow of a low-hanging willow where he could clearly see the door of the barracks building he had just left. In a short time, the guards came out. When the left no one posted outside, Gordon grimaced. "Much too easy," he grumbled. He followed them at a distance, watching for any to peel off and return. Instead, they led him to another, smaller building nearby. Most of them remained outside while two – one armed and one not – entered. They returned a moment later with another tray of dishes.
"Enough for one. That's got to be the senator."
As the guards proceeded on, Gordon hurried back to the barracks holding the gypsy band. Outside the door he whistled a low curlew's cry. A moment later, watching the keyhole, he saw a tiny, brilliant flare.
When the door swung open, he spoke low. "All clear." He led the emerging band to the willow's protection. "He's nearby; they led me right to him," he told Guillermo. "We should be able to make the switch without raising any suspicions. They're not leaving any guards on any of these outbuildings."
"Suspicious, no?" Guillermo commented.
"Suspicious, yes," Gordon returned. Very suspicious. But if it's a trap, hopefully you can get Senator Long out before it springs."
"If we get out, your senator will as well. This I promise you."
"I know it is true." Gordon smiled before he turned to old Antonio. "Are you ready, uncle?"
"I am ready, cousin." The old gypsy bowed with great dignity. "Let us go and free this poor man. After all, no little madman can hold a true Rom prisoner for long."
Gordon nodded gravely, and led the way back to the small building he had seen the guards visit. He set Antonio to keep watch while he manipulated the lock.
"Why you don't do like with the other one?" Antonio asked, keeping his eyes on the surrounding moonlit grounds.
"I don't want anything about the lock to make them suspicious of you."
"Yeah, that's smart." Antonio nodded. Only when Gordon touched his arm did he turn. "Wait just inside the door," Gordon requested. "Until I make sure of the senator."
He was back beside Antonio in a moment, accompanied by another man.
"Senator Long, say hello to Senator Long," Gordon quipped.
"Hello, Senator Long," the prisoner responded dully.
Antonio snorted derisively, and moved off into the room. "All right, Mr. Gordon, you had better get the door locked back pretty quickly, don't you think?" Antonio gave a fair imitation of the senator's voice, and certainly had pushed the gypsy accent out of his speech pattern.
"Be careful, uncle." Gordon shook his friend's hand once more. "Remember, you only have to fool them for long enough for Guillermo to get the real senator out of here. And if the pretense gets dangerous, don't try to keep it up."
"I'll certainly remember that. Now go."
Gordon led his charge out into the moonlight. The senator followed him unresistingly, which had already been setting off mental alarms. "Sir," he spoke softly. "Are you all right?"
"All right." The senator's voice was flat.
Gordon drew the man into deeper shadows. He turned to face him, watching his reactions as he spoke. "Your daughter has been terribly worried about you, sir."
"I have no daughter," came the toneless response.
"Do you know who I am, Senator?"
"I've never seen you before in my life."
"You've never…" Gordon paused. "I guess that's true, at that." He commented, considering his current disguise. "Do you recognize my voice?"
"Your voice is familiar."
"If you don't know who I am, why did you come with me?"
"You told me to come with you."
"Well of all the… So you just did what I told you?"
"Yes."
"Senator Long does not let other people tell him what to do." Gordon was feeling very confused.
"No, I do not."
Gordon stopped, just staring at his companion. "Well then, why are you?" he asked in exasperation.
"I don't know."
"Come on, you've got to give me a better explanation than that!"
"I don't feel as if it is important."
Gordon continued to stare. Then he slowly nodded his head. "I bet you've been drugged."
"Not as far as I know, Mr. Gordon."
"I thought you didn't recognize me."
"I have recognized your voice as that of Artemus Gordon of the United States Secret Service."
"Okay. Well, I'm going to take you to some friends of mine. They'll get you away from here and back to New Orleans. Please do whatever they ask of you Senator Long."
"Very well."
With a shrug, Gordon led his charge on. When they joined up with the waiting gypsy band, he spoke quietly with Guillermo. "The senator seems to have been drugged. Fortunately, that means he won't give you any trouble. Unfortunately, it means you're going to have to deliver him."
"I do not think that would be appreciated. What gajo would believe us that we did not kidnap him, eh?"
"Well, not exactly deliver him in person. I'll give you an address to take him to. You just need to get him near there, and then send him in." He turned to Senator Long. "These men are friends of mine," he explained. "They and their cousins have risked their lives to help me rescue you. Do you understand?"
"Yes. These men have helped rescue me."
"I hope you'll remember that later on, Senator, because you owe them everything. This is my job, but they have no good reason to want to help."
"I will remember."
Gordon had started to turn away, but looked back when the senator spoke. He gazed at the man, and then stepped over to Guillermo. "Thank you again. I'm going to owe you very much for this."
"If you insist, I am sure there will come a time when we need your help again. Then I will remind you that you could not be dissuaded."
"And I will be glad to remember." For a moment, Gordon smiled, but his face swiftly became serious again. "Hurry, now. There are too many things going on around here I don't like. I'll be much happier knowing you are safely away."
Once Guillermo and his band had disappeared into the night with Senator Long, Gordon heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay, you insane little genius," he muttered. "I don't care what sort of traps you've got set around here, I don't think you'll catch them now." He grinned sardonically. "You'll have a heck of a time even catching me!"
Although he was feeling increasingly anxious, Gordon took his time then to make a careful survey of the premises. While this left him with more questions than when he began, it at least allowed him to leave a few little surprises of his own about.
"Now," he finally muttered. "That just leaves the house itself. You can bet your Great Aunt Maude's last silver dollar Dr. Loveless has still got Jim in there. And of course Jacamo. The question is; how do I get in without triggering any alarms?" He hesitated and rubbed his temple. "I guess I could always just walk in the front door."
Gordon suddenly shook his head. "Where did that come from?" he asked himself. "I'm not about to go to all this trouble to fool Loveless, and then just turn myself over to him!"
He paused and took a slow, deep breath. "Say, I must be worse off than I realized, thinking like that. Exhaustion is not a secret agent's best friend, I guess." He examined the back of the house carefully. He was considering the advantages of the second floor windows when he found himself again thinking about how much easier the front door would be.
Arguing with himself seemed such a useless waste of time. It wasn't, he considered, as if the manner of entry mattered so very much. He wanted to go inside, and he knew both James and Dr. Loveless wanted him inside.
"What does it matter if I just walk in?" he asked himself reasonably. "Maybe Dr. Loveless will just… NO!"
Gordon stood for several interminable minutes, struggling with his growing sense of disconnection. By the time he started around the house toward the front door, he couldn't quite convince himself that he shouldn't be surrendering himself so easily. He wondered both why this was, and why the thought should be important, anyway.
TBC