THE NIGHT OF THE FROZEN MAN

By Andamogirl

Author's note: post first TV movie, "The Wild Wild West Revisited".

References to "The Night of the Sedgewick Curse" & "The Night of the Big Blast". Reference to my story "The Night of the Disguised Assassin."

First story of 'Jim West's bad dreams' series.

Jim: Junior, you're crazier than your father ever was.

Michelito: Did it ever occur to you that my father was, and I am, completely sane, and the two of you and the rest of the world are mentally deficient?

Jim: No. that never occurred to me. Did it ever occur to you, Artie?

Artie: Never.

Michelito: Did it occur to you that my father was normal-sized and the two of you might be throwbacks to caveman types?

Artie: Now that occurred to me.

The Wild Wild West Revisited

Warning: mention of torture.

WWW

PART ONE

The Wanderer

Virginia City, Nevada, 1885

Drunk, swaying on his feet., Artemus Gordon tumbled onto the golden embroidered couch sideways, sinking into the plush cushions, his limbs feeling very heavy, like they weighed tons.

He took off his coat, dropping it on the coffee table and loosened his cravat. He began unbuttoning his shirt with clumsy fingers and stopped a few seconds later to bury his face in his slightly trembling hands. "Oh boy… I think I'm… totally… into-intaxi, intoxico, toxi… I mean drunk," he said, slurring his words, with the sensation that his brain had been stuffed with sodden wool. He blinked. "Room's blurred…" He blinked again a few times, slowly, and tried unsuccessfully to bring his partner into focus. "No… still blurred."

A bit tipsy himself, James West took a place on the second couch, placed opposite to the one that his best friend was occupying.

He noticed that Artie's chocolate eyes were heavy-lidded, his pupils dilated and clouded from the alcohol. "Oh yes you are. And I'm surprised, buddy. You usually hold your liquor quite well."

Rubbing his aching temples as a splitting headache was burgeoning, Artie nodded. "Usually yes, but Governor Hawkins's favorite liquor… I don't remember its name, is a killer. It's probably some kind of moonshine distilled in some secret part of his mansion. I never tasted anything so strong in my whole life… but… but it was very good and I drank a little too much of it…. and I will regret it tomorrow." He would have a monster of a hangover, he thought.

The younger man chuckled. "Tasted is not the word I would have used Artie, but 'downed' as you downed half of the bottle as if it was water. Governor Hawkins was pleased you liked it. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning buddy. No more moonshine for you from now on." He smirked, as he loved teasing Artie. "You're an old man now. You can't handle your alcohol anymore. Let's call it the curse of old age!"

He wasn't surprised when Artie made a face and then glared at him – he expected it. He knew what his partner was going to say and he had an amused grin when the other man mumbled, "Not old…J'st older than you, m' boy". He really was very tired – and very drunk.

He let out a long, heavy sigh and rolled in a ball on the cushions, the couch being two small for his frame. He stifled a wide yawn and said, his voice weary, "Y'r right. Night Jim… See ya t'mrow." Then he slipped into a drunken sleep.

Standing Jim said, "Good night Artie." Then he sighed wearily.

He removed his jacket, placed it on Artie's shoulders, dimmed the lights and then headed toward the swinging door leading to the sleeping compartments.

He too needed to sleep.

He woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee and, hearing loud snores coming from Artie's room, he padded along the narrow walkway, cat-footed and silently opened the door, left ajar.

He discovered his partner sprawled on his bed, dressed in his pajamas, his head sunk in his pillow, one arm hanging off the bed. His clothes were scattered on the floor.

He smiled. "Good idea. You'll sleep better in your bed, Artie," he whispered, then he closed the door behind him and headed toward the bathroom.

WWW

Jim's bad dream:

Buttoning his white shirt, his hair still a bit wet after his morning shower, Jim entered the parlor car, finding the place empty. "Artie?" he called.

Hearing Artemus busying himself in the galley he said, "I should have started by going there…" and he entered his best friend's den, finding himself immediately enveloped in the delicious scents of cooking and freshly brewed coffee surrounding him, making his mouth water.

His stomach growling it needed to be filled, he licked his lips in anticipated pleasure as he discovered the older man preparing one of his favorite desserts, crepes.

He smiled broadly. "Mmmm…. Crepes! Good morning Artie." His green eyes zeroed in on the stack of steaming crepes sitting on a plate situated in the middle of the small table. "All for me," he added, hungrily, tucking his shirt into his pants.

Barefoot and wearing his navy pajamas, hair stuck up in all directions, Artie was holding the frying pan above the cooking top of the stove, a new and final crepe slowly browning in it. "Good morning Jim, and I hope you leave me some. I usually prepare waffles for breakfast, but I wanted to surprise you. I know that you love crepes. I'm almost finished. Could you set the table?" Then he grimaced in pain and groaned his head thumping. He lowered his baritone voice and then whispered, "Please."

Frowning in concern, Jim placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

The older man shook his head. "No, I'm not." Using a wooden spatula he flipped the crepe over in the pan the other side sizzling. "I have a monster headache because I have a mother of all hangovers." He said, watching the edge of the crepe caramelizing.

Opening the top part of the dresser, Jim winced sympathetically. "You were pretty drunk last night, I'm not surprised." And he pulled out two plates and a couple of mugs from it.

Sliding the crepe onto the pile, Artemus waved a finger. "No more moonshine for me." then he settled the hot and empty pan back on the stove.

Jim nodded. "It's a wise decision." He opened the drawer and took out two forks, two knives and two tea spoons.

Holding the pot of coffee Artemus poured the hot, dark liquid into two mugs and said, "Only regular alcohol," and he grinned, amused. He scratched his rough chin. He needed a shave, and to take a shower, but before that he needed to have breakfast, he thought.

Smiling Jim said, "I thought as much… no whiskey? No wine? Impossible." And he settled everything around the pile of thin and fluffy crepes and opening a lower part of the dresser he fished inside for three pots of jams and a bottle of maple syrup.

He found a tiny space for them on the overstocked table and said, "Ready!" Then he sat on a stool, in front of his best friend. He took a crepe, folded it on his plate and drowned it in the maple syrup. "Mmmmm… " he let out, before lifting a forkful of cooling syrupy crepe to his lips. He put it into his mouth, letting the taste settle before humming in pleasure.

Smiling, Artie took a sip of coffee, pleased to see his best friend enjoying the crepes he had made. Then he lifted one onto his plate.

Jim raised another forkful to his lips, his mouth watering even more. "Mmm…" He chewed it, closing his eyes in bliss. "It's delicious!" Pointing his knife at Artie he added, "I'm going to miss this once I'm back in Tecate. Juanita doesn't know how to make crepes."

Spreading strawberry jam on his crepe with his spoon, Artemus replied, "You're going to miss my crepes but not miss me?" He made a face. "Thank you very much." He sighed and took a new sip of coffee. "I'm glad our last mission together was a success and that we're still alive."

Holding his steaming mug, Jim nodded. "Yes, and we're ex-agents now. Like you, I signed up for one mission only. Once in Washington I'll take a train to go back to Mexico. I miss my wife and my children."

Rolling his crepe on his plate, Artie nodded and said, "And Penelope and me we'll take a train to Kansas City. I will manage her new career as an actress there – and continue my own career too."

Smiling Jim took a new crepe from the pile in front of him and dropped it on his plate. He opened the jar of marmalade and said, "Speaking of Penelope…"

Suddenly a series of gunshots resounded outside, making the two agents freeze in alarm and several whistling bullets broke a few windows of the Wanderer.

Dropping his knife and fork on his plate, Jim frowned and growled like an angry bear, "Not when I'm eating crepes!" He said, his mouth still a little full.

He rushed into the parlor car and, pressing on a hidden button on the dresser lowered the frame containing a map of the Arizona Territory placed above, revealing a panel on which were hung a shotgun, a rifle, two revolvers and a Derringer.

He grabbed the rifle before taking a box of ammunition from the drawer.

He moved toward one of the broken windows and spotted two men hiding behind a pile of firewood on the platform. Using a rifle each they were riddling the side of the train with bullets.

He cocked the Winchester and fired in his turn and hit one of the men who cried out in pain, staggered backwards clutching his chest and then fell onto his back, dead.

He ducked in a flash when a shot shattered what was left of the window he was in front of and he was showered with splintered glass.

He tipped his head forward just in time to avoid having his face cut. A volley of other bullets struck the wall of the train beside the couch where he was crouching, chunks of wood flying everywhere.

He fired again and a bullet struck the second shooter in the chest and he fell backwards on top of the pile of logs, dead as well - and there was silence.

He suddenly realized that he was alone. Artemus wasn't there. "Artie!" No response. "Artie!" He reloaded and moved toward the galley.

He opened the door and discovered Artemus lying on the floor, on his side, unconscious and a shiver ran down his spine. "Artie."

He gritted his teeth in anger against himself. That was a rookie move! The two attackers standing on the platform had distracted him – while the others had sneaked into the Wanderer and neutralized Artie before he could do anything.

Two hooded men holding a gun were framing an immobile Artemus. A third one his face hidden behind a hood too was pointing his revolver at him. "Drop your rifle, or he's dead," he commanded. He was clearly the leader, Jim noticed.

Looking at Artie, Jim saw that his best friend didn't seem injured and he sighed in relief. "Who are you? What do you want?" he asked.

The man replied, "Shut up! And drop your rifle! Now!" And then he pulled back the hammer of his Colt, ready to fire. "I'm not gonna repeat it!"

Jim did as he was told, not willing to risk Artie's life and he said, "Satisfied?"

Re-holstering his Colt, the hooded man, said, "Very," then he pulled out a pre-filled syringe from a pocket of his jacket.

Looking at it, Jim asked, "What's that?"

The man replied, "Your friend is already sleeping like a baby thanks to this sedative…" He removed the protective cap and added, "Don't move! Don't do anything foolish or your friend is dead…"

Staying immobile, Jim let the other man inject him with the sedative, "I'm not going to do anything," he said through clenched teeth, his voice low but his frustration clear.

But he had no other choice.

His vision blurred a few seconds later the liquid pulsing through his veins already taking effect. He felt his body slump.

He slowly felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

He suddenly collapsed like deadweight.

WWW

Much later

The two prisoners, blindfolded, hands bound behind their backs were roughly manhandled to a vast underground machine-filled room. It was cold too. No, frigid.

The different, loud noises they produced were almost deafening. Two men dressed in white coats were standing beside a beeping control console.

They were forced onto their knees and a voice they recognized immediately said, "I'm happy to see you again, gentlemen."

Shivering, Artie groaned. "I told you I didn't know who had kidnapped us, but now I know, Jim. It's Michelito's lovely sister, Carmelita. And I must say that I'm surprised."

Carmelita chuckled. "Why's that Mr. Gordon? Because I'm a woman? Women are much better than men and in all fields. Some men know that and admit it, others who have always been cavemen types deny it, because they think it diminishes their maleness." She had an evil grin… "Speaking of cavemen, I will… no, no, no. I will tell you about that later. I don't want to spoil it."

Behind his blindfold Artie rolled his eyes. "I heard that before… from Miguelito Loveless's mouth. Feels like something bad is going to happen to us."

Jim nodded. "I knew I couldn't trust you Carmelita – you're a Loveless." Looking up at Carmelita, without seeing her, he added, "And, as a Loveless, I suppose, like your brother wanted to, you want to kill Artemus and me to avenge your father's death? To follow a family tradition."

Carmelita didn't respond. She snapped her fingers and the blindfolds were removed.

With squinted eyes, the two ex-temporary Secret Service agents looked around them amazed, blinking. The whole room was occupied by very sophisticated machinery, floor to ceiling. There was a big metallic table in the middle of the room with two chairs and a few unopened crates.

Impressed and curious, but not showing it so as not to please Carmelita, Artie said with a blank face and a casual tone, "I love the decoration of the room, it's pure Loveless style."

Impassive too, Jim nodded. "I got me some bad déjà vu about this.," he remarked.

Moving closer to the two men Carmelita smiled. "I know. My father built fantastic machines…" She paused and glared at her prisoners. "Machines you destroyed!" Looking down at Artemus, she said, "I'm sure you're impressed and curious Mr. Gordon, as you are some kind of scientist…" And then she smirked when Artie made a face, visibly hurt. "You see my brother is not the only one who inherited my father's genius. I'm even more brilliant than he is. But I let Michelito think I was just an averagely intelligent woman, so that I could pursue my experiments peacefully, here, in my own hideout, unnoticed." She pivoted and gestured toward all the huge machines which were blinking, pulsating, rolling… etc. and then she added, "This is my chef-d'oeuvre! I designed everything, every piece of it, and had the best engineers in the country working on it. This technological wonder is destined to…"

Looking at Carmelita again, Artie interrupted her, "Let me guess, kill us. Your father created extraordinary machines just to get rid of us."

Carmelita shook her head. "No, there are simpler and much cheaper ways to kill you, like a bullet in your head, but it would be too rapid and not entertaining. I want you to suffer and I, time to enjoy your death. My father lost his time and money by building sophisticated machines for the sole purpose of killing you ... and, sadly, he failed every time. I will not make the same mistake."

Jim nodded. "You're a Loveless, so you will fail too."

Artie added, "Jim's right. We managed to thwart all of your father's nefarious world domination schemes, and we'll do it again with yours."

She waved a hand in dismissal and then added, "And I want you to see this!" She snapped her fingers. "Bring them back toward the caisson." And she turned on her heel.

Still framed between an armed goon each, Jim and Artie followed Carmelita Loveless toward the said caisson placed in an alcove, a soft electrical hum coming from it. It was metallic coffin-sized cylinder, enveloped in a frozen mist and its surface was covered in a thick layer of ice. It had a hatch on the top and a small porthole of thick, curved glass in it and there was a dim, blue light inside. Power cables were running along the sides, connecting it to a…

His eyes lit with scientific interest, Artie said, "Generator. It's an electric generator!" and admired the sophisticated machine.

Carmelita snapped her fingers and one of the men wearing a white coat used a scraper to remove the thick layer of ice covering the small window and said, "Take a look inside gentlemen, I'm sure that you're going to be very surprised."

Jim and Artemus complied – and they both stared, gaping, at the prone figure of Miguelito Loveless Sr. lying on a soft mattress covered with a white blanket up to his shoulders. His small body was wrapped in a layer of tiny ice crystals, his eyes were closed, his lips blue, his skin deathly pale and he had a calm and peaceful expression on his face.

The two men were too stunned to say anything for a moment.

Then, taking a step backward, Artie pinched the skin of his hand, flinching at the pain. "No, I'm not dreaming this…" He said. "Well… That's a hell of a surprise! I thought he was dead – and buried under that huge tombstone… I mean was buried, past tense, because the whole area was completely obliterated by that huge explosion."

Carmelita shook her head and explained, "I retrieved my father's body as soon as he was put in his coffin and I immediately replaced it by another body, a double. Then I came here to my secret hideout with him and placed his body in that sterile cold container, freezing him in a matter of seconds to preserve it. My brother Michelito didn't notice anything. I had my father frozen for later revival. One day, in a distant future, the great Miguelito Loveless will resuscitate and conquer the world, his new world!"

Jim's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "He will resuscitate? So your father's dead?"

Carmelita nodded. "He is – for now."

Even more confused Jim frowned his brow again. "What do you mean 'for now'"?

Snapping his fingers, Artie said, "Cryogenic technology!" He looked around him at the machines-filled room and added, "I heard about that technique of low-temperature preservation of living tissue and organisms in general. Your father is dead but you have hope to that healing and resuscitation may be possible in the future thanks to a highly-advanced technology. That's remarkable! How does all this work?"

Carmelita blushed with pleasure. "Thank you very much for that compliment, Mr. Gordon, I appreciate it, and I won't tell you how all those machines work, because it would take too long. And you do not have much time left. Because you'll be dead soon." She paused and added, "Thanks to cryopreservation, one day, my father will come back – one day."

Glancing at the refrigerated 'coffin', Artie said, "It's theoretically possible…"

Less enthusiastic than Artie, Jim nodded. "I don't believe that the dead can actually be brought back to life this way," he said.

Carmelita smiled. "I expected no less from you, Jim. My father told me you are someone pragmatic and own-to-earth."

Jim nodded again. "True. Okay. Let's say it works. You won't be here to see it," he said bluntly.

Carmelita nodded. "I know that. You, I, we all will be long dead, but one day, he will live again! My children will see to it, and my grandchildren, etc. my descendants will take care of that machinery, will improve it with time, and one day they will be able to bring him back."

Still in scientist mode Artie looked again at the whole machinery. "You must need a formidable source of energy to power it all. I'd like to know how."

Carmelita smiled. "Are you familiar with geothermal energy Mr. Gordon?" Artie nodded. "You see, there are hot springs under the mountain and I built a machine to draw heat from the ground with a geothermal heat pump producing steam under pressure. That steam under pressure drives a turbine and the turbine drives an electric generator which is supplying the necessary energy for all the electric apparels, here, and also the same as the light in the mine located beneath us."

Not hiding he was impressed, Artie repeated, 'That's remarkable! And yes, I'm familiar with the geothermal energy."

Intrigued, Jim asked, 'What kind of mine?"

Moving away from the caisson keeping Miguelito Loveless's body frozen and intact in the cold and ice, Carmelita said, "When building that secret compound, the engineers found a gold vein. As I needed to extract it with all discretion so that nobody would come to loot it – and because I didn't want to pay workers either - I call on local labor, so to speak. I had all the able men from the village a few miles from here kidnapped, and they work for me for free."

Blinking, appalled, Artie said, "You turned them into slaves?"

Carmelita nodded. "That's right. The sheriff investigated for a few days but he found nothing. The mine is well hidden." She stroked Jim's jawline. "You Jim, you're going to stay with me, until I decide to kill you." She glanced then at Artie and added, "As for Mr. Gordon you're going to join the slaves in my mine, and then, I will kill you too. I'm sure you're going to have some fun!" The glee was evident in her voice.

Scowling, Artie sighed. "Oh great!"

WWW

Later in the mine

Leaning his pickaxe against a metallic prop, Artie wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and looked at his blackened and bleeding feet, shackles fastened around his ankles.

If the other 'slaves' had clothes and shoes, he was only wearing his pajamas and was barefoot and the rough and dirty rocky ground was just a torture to walk on it.

It was difficult too to walk with the thick, rusted pair of shackles locked around his ankles, he thought, watching the wall in front of him where a large vein of gold was exposed.

Feeling uncomfortably too hot, sweating, he removed the top of his pajamas and tied it around his waist. "It's like a steam room in here," he said and glanced at the big pipes running along the mine shaft. They had tiny holes in them here there because the pressurized steam escaped from them. "Mmm… there's steam in those pipes and the steam drives the turbine, and the turbine drives the electric generator which is supplying the necessary energy for all the electrical machines, up there…. and stopping the generator would create huge panic up there, chaos… and Jim could escape… Oh, good idea, old man!"

Looking around him in the enclosed space to see if the coast was clear, he took his pickaxe in his hands again, targeted the closest hole and hit – before immediately stepping to one side.

Suddenly a powerful jet of steam was forced out with a hiss, billowing up. He hit the hole again, enlarging it, hurriedly moving back again, barely avoiding being scalded.

The underground gallery was now filled with warm air, heavy with moisture and Artie was instantly covered with beads of sweat rolling down his whole body, his skin was reddening and burning. He felt like he would be boiling soon and it was hard to breathe.

He remembered that time he had almost died from heat exposure in that steam room while investigating the disappearance of a government appropriations official, A.T. Redmond with a rare disease. If he hadn't had a trick cane with blade in the tip to pick the locked door, he would be dead now.

He turned around when a dark shape materialized through the steamy mist and said, "Hey! You! Stop!"

Seizing the opportunity that he was thick steam-camouflaged, Artemus headed toward the guard punching him and grabbing his gun once it was on the ground.

Finding a key attached to the other man's belt; he took it and got rid of the shackles locked around his grazed ankles.

He rubbed the sore area where they once were to restore circulation in his ankles. "Ow!"

He ran down the dim tunnel, only lit by a few torches, gripping his revolver. Gusts of hot steam were swirling around him.

He shot another of Carmelita Loveless"s minions on his way to the entrance to the mine – he knew was closed by a large metallic door because he had used it to come there a few hours before - taking his gun. It was guarded, so he would have to neutralize the guard there, he thought.

The steam hadn't reached that part of the mine shaft yet when he spotted the massive door, so, he hid behind a cart to avoid a couple of bullets coming his way.

He shot at the man guarding it and his action was greeted by the cheers of the numerous 'slaves' gathered in the mine shaft who had stopped carving into the shaft or picking at the walls or shoveling debris away, or collecting the gold nuggets in buckets.

He halted beside two prisoners dressed in dirty, tattered clothes and gave a revolver to the first one, and the key to open the shackles to the second one. "Free everyone! Then leave the mine. Find a way to contact the authorities. Tell them where this place is and what's happening here." Then he took another key from the dead guard's belt. "This one must open the door, "

Once all the 'slaves' weren't restrained by shackles anymore, Artie divested the dead guard of his blood-stained uniform, complete with his socks and boots, then said, "There are other guards behind that door. I'm going to get rid of them all, then you can leave this place."

Intrigued, a young man asked, "We will. Thank you very much, sir. I don't understand… why aren't you coming with us?"

Dripping sweat, Artie smiled. "Because I have to help my partner. He's still prisoner. Be careful." He then moved toward the heavy door and simply knocked. 'Open the door!"

WWW

Later in Carmelita's apartment

Bedroom

Carmelita sat on the edge of the bed where Jim West was half-sitting, half-lying, his back propped on two pillows; his wrists manacled to the bars of the headboard. "Feeling comfortable?"

Smiling Jim glanced at the elegant, well-furnished bedroom and then he looked at Carmelita. "Yes, I am. I have experienced worse positions – besides being tied up to a bed, believe me, but I would be even more comfortable without the manacles."

Carmelita smiled too. "Yes, but I want to keep you here with me… a little before killing you." She caressed his face from hairline to chin. "You are a very handsome man… " She kissed his lips. "I remember my father telling me that the great James West was a ladies man, had all the women he wanted at his feet…" and she trailed a finger from his chin to his Adam's apple.

Insensitive to Carmelita's caresses, Jim nodded and replied, "Yes, but it was a long time ago, before I met my wife."

Carmelita nodded. "Speaking of your wife, she'll have to live alone with her children soon," ignoring Jim shooting her a sour look. All of a sudden there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" she said.

At that the door opened and two burly men entered, both holding a half-naked, battered Artemus Gordon, they unceremoniously dumped onto the floor a few seconds later. Artie landed hard on his knees and he gritted his teeth.

Seeing Artie's bruised and scraped face, Jim paled and jerked at his restraints. "Artie!"

Carmelita looked annoyed at the interruption. "What happened?"

The tallest goon kicked Artie in his ribs eliciting a low groan of pain from the older ex-agent. "He killed five men and freed all the prisoners working in the mine shaft. We intercepted him in the Caisson Room – but he didn't have time to do any sabotage there, we verified."

She stood and headed toward the older man's prone figure. "He could have destroyed the machinery and my father's future. And because of him we lost a team of miners." Furious she reached out, "Give me your gun!" The man complied. "Roll him on his back."

Once Artemus was lying on his back she placed the mouth of the gun to his forehead. "Adieu Mr. Gordon," she said eye to eye and froze seeing acceptance and no trace of fear of dying reflected in Artemus's chocolate eyes. She abruptly calmed down realizing that if she killed him that way, what she had planned for the two Secret Service agents couldn't happen. "No, it's not what I planned for you… " She gave her minion his Colt back and then went back toward the bed.

Jim sighed in relief – Artie was safe for now.

Moving to his knees, Artemus said, his voice weak, "I was stopped before damaging the caisson, but the turbine that drives the electric generator has slowed down dangerously… Only a little steam is supplying power, not enough to keep all the machines running…' Then he grinned proudly. "I think it has something to do with the sabotage of a big pipe in a mine shaft…"

Carmelita reddened in anger. "You'll pay dearly for this sabotage!" Then she told her blond henchman. "Find Michael! Tell him what happened – I want the all system to be controlled and the damage repaired as soon as possible!"

The man nodded. "Yes, Miss Loveless!" and then he left.

The young woman sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Jim. "My father loved to torture your partner – and I'm going to follow the family tradition." She looked down at Artie then. "I recently read the thick file my father had on you, Mr. Gordon. My brother never read it. Only the present time interests him, not the past. I really appreciated what my father did to you before he died, five years ago."

Artemus flinched.

Frowning, puzzled Jim said, "What?"

Carmelita continued, "Engineers have dug several wells in the mountain to probe it before they built the mine shafts. Those wells are narrow, dark, wet and cold, just like in your cell in that mental asylum he locked you in. But this time, you won't escape. I'll plug the well with a stone slab and you'll be buried alive… for a few hours, it would be sufficient to scare you… I'm going to punish you that way."

Looking at Artemus with a furrowed brow, Jim asked, "What? Loveless did what?"

Carmelita smirked. "Oh, he didn't tell you then? Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!" She said, shaking her head. "I thought the two of you had no secrets from each other."

Artie's eyes widened in fear and shock and he swallowed hard, like he had a lump in his throat. He shook his head. "No! No! Not that! Please!" He managed to pull himself on his knees and added, "I beg you, please."

Carmelita beamed and cackled. "My father would have loved to see that: the great Artemus Gordon, on his knees, terrified, begging me, saying please…"

Still on his knees, Artie moved toward the young woman and halted at her feet. He breathed, "Please… please… don't do that," he said, voice trembling.

Carmelita nodded, her eyes alight with glee as she saw desperate tears forming in the older man's haunted eyes, "Yes, tell Jim what my father did to you – enjoying every minute of it," she said.

Both intrigued and very surprised to see Artemus react this way, he demanded, "Artie, what happened? Tell me buddy."

Pale as a ghost, Artemus swallowed hard and said, his lips trembling, "Loveless Jr. didn't mention it when he saw me, because he didn't know what his father did to me. It happened two weeks after you and I we retired. You had left for Mexico and I was in New Orleans with Lily. Loveless Sr. made a last attempt to get rid of us. But as you were far away and I closer Loveless Sr. targeted me and not you – He kidnapped me and had me locked in a mental asylum. I was drugged, put in an isolation room, in the dark. The cell was so small that I couldn't stand, and it was so cold…The only times they pulled me out of my cell, was to do horrible things to me: they had fun in electrocuting me, in almost drowning me… They beat me, senseless and they used cold water and electricity, Loveless' favorite. They gave me just enough food and water so I could survive so they could continue to torture me… And I'm not talking about the lack of hygiene… It wouldn't be decent, as we are having supper." He paused, wiping tears away with the back of his trembling hand and then continued," After 6 months I… I completely lost my mind and my humanity. I became an animal. Loveless had won – he had broken me, he had killed me. I wasn't myself anymore. Artemus Gordon was dead, Jim." His hand trembling he poured himself another glass of wine. "I got out only two years ago."

Horrified, Jim rasped, "My God Artie…"

His voice raw, the older man added, "I could have died there – buried alive – if Lily Fortune hadn't found me, well, the private detective working for her did and released me. She was searching for me since my kidnapping. No one else. She brought me to her home in New Orleans, and with time and love, I became a man again. Little by little Artemus Gordon came back to life." He lowered his head, hiding his tears rolling freely down his cheeks. "She saved my life… and-and she died a year ago. She passed away in her sleep… She didn't suffer. I lost her Jim… she was my best friend."

He lowered his head, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged, nauseous – chasing away the images of his terrible ordeal from his mind.

Carmelita chuckled. "It's a lovely story, Mr. Gordon… My father failed again to kill you, but it gives me the opportunity to "play' with you before killing you. And I won't fail."

Still looking at his best friend, Jim asked, "Why didn't you tell me that before? We used to share everything Artie, like brothers. Good things and bad things."

The older man heaved a long sigh while regaining his composure. "I didn't tell you anything because you were happy, you had a wife, wonderful life and I didn't want to bother you with that. And I didn't say anything to you on our last mission because we were on a mission. Work and emotions don't mix well." He took a deep breath. "And now you know. After Lily's death, I became an actor again, and it healed me."

He suddenly pivoted and punched the henchman in his groin, with all he had and caught the gun as the other man dropped it.

He stood in a flash, his knees creaking, then using the butt of the Colt he hit the head of Carmelita's other minion, knocking the other man out before he could do anything.

The older agent, his face as hard as stone moved toward Carmelita, saying, "Don't try anything! I never killed a woman before, but there's always a first time." Glancing at Jim, then at Carmelita he commanded, "You have the key to the manacles, release him, now!"

Seeing that she didn't comply, he fired – the bullet just missing the young woman's head – embedding in the wall behind her.

Pale and shaking Carmelita fished the key from the drawer of the bedside table and unlocked the restraints. Jim immediately jumped off the bed.

He manacled Carmelita to the headboard. "Stay here. I'll come back to get you before the whole mountain explodes," he said.

Carmelita knew immediately what he intended to do. "You want to sabotage the machines in the caisson room!" she said.

Jim nodded. "Good guess. They will explode, and this place will be buried under tons of rocks." Spotting the doily sitting on the bedside table under a lamp he took it and put it in the young woman's mouth to stop her from calling for help.

Then turning toward his partner who looked devastated, he pulled the other man into a tight embrace and held him there. "I'm very sorry Artie."

Nodding Artie said, "No more secrets between us, I promise." He couldn't hold back the wave of emotions that submerged him. He cried and then sobbed into his partner's shoulder.

Carmelita tried to free herself of the manacles, in vain. "You won't succeed! My men will stop you!" She said glaring at the two men.

But Jim and Artie ignored her.

Seeing that his best friend had now regained control of his emotions and that color had slowly returned to Artie's cheeks, Jim patted his partner's arm. "Are you okay?"

Sniffing, Artie nodded. "Yes." And he moved back from Jim's arms.

The younger man smiled. "It's good to hear that. You haven't lost your touch Artie! I'm very proud of you. Now let's go, let's destroy this place."

WWW

Later in the machinery room

Suddenly a bullet brushed against Jim's earlobe missing him by a scant few inches and hit the wall behind him. He ducked in a flash behind a metallic table he flipped sideways. "Damn! That was close," he said firing in his turn at Carmelita's henchmen.

Five bullets left, he realized. Not much. Not enough, to fight against a dozen armed guards. If Artie and he wanted to stay alive, there was only one solution: destroy the machines. Explosions and flames would frighten the guards and they would leave, it was the original plan after all, he thought.

Glancing at Artie kneeling on his right, hidden behind a big crate, he said, "Artie, while I'm covering you, you need to destroy all the machines! It's the only way to make these guards leave – and for us to stay alive. Go! I'll take care of them!"

Confident in his partner to cover him, Artie nodded. "Okay."

Jim watched Artie run at top speed toward the generator controlling all the machines, then sitting next to the caisson where Dr. Loveless's body was frozen, fired his last bullets at the guards – killing three, and then the barrel of his Colt was empty. "Hurry Artie!" he called out.

Crouching next to the turbine control panel, Artie turned the buttons on the right, watching the points of the dials rapidly go to the red section labelled DANGER.

The turbine was set on overload and soon it would explode, creating a chain reaction. The whole room would be engulfed in flames in a matter of minutes.

Noticing that two guards were heading toward Jim who had fired his remaining bullets Artie aimed at them and fired, killing one and wounding the two others.

Seeing that, the other men carefully retreated toward the door - while continuing to shoot at both Secret Service agents.

Artie smiled – but his smile vanished instantly as he saw a guard move toward him. He raised his gun and fired. But the other man had time to press the trigger of his Colt before stumbling backwards and going down, mortally wounded.

Hit at his temple, Artemus hissed at the sensation of the bullet grazing and burning his temple and slumped onto his back and lost consciousness.

Blood left Jim's face as he saw his partner collapse on the floor, unconscious. "Artie! No!" he let out seeing a stream of blood flowing from his partner's wound.

Suddenly the huge turbine exploded into flames and jets of steam too, burning to death the guards standing close to the sabotaged machine. Horrified at what had just happened the other guards fled the room as they wanted to stay alive.

Once they were gone, Jim then rushed toward Artemus. He dropped to his knees and shook his partner's shoulder. "Wake up buddy! We need to get out of here!"

But Artie remained unconscious. Jim lifted him onto his shoulder and followed the guards running in front of them along a long corridor.

Five minutes later, he and Artie exited the compound while it was rocked by violent explosions. The guards had already scattered into the forest.

Kneeling on the ground, Jim settled Artie on a flat rock and saw his partner's eyes flutter open. "Artie! wake up buddy."

Slowly, very slowly Artemus opened his eyes and saw his best friend's face close to his. "Jim… you alright?" he breathed before grimacing in terrible pain.

The younger man nodded. "I'm fine thanks. But you're injured, Artie. But it's going to be okay, the bullet grazed your temple. It's nothing!"

The older man gave a weak smile, his face ashen. "Hurts…" He croaked.

Frowning in concern, Jim ripped Artie's pajama top open and tearing off a piece of the fabric used it to make a makeshift bandage. "I know, Artie."

Closing his eyes, his vision blurred, Artemus passed out.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Jim grabbed the Colt he had slid behind his back and turned around – but it was too late.

Eyes flashing and her face contorted with anger, Carmelita, holding a rifle, smacked Jim's head with it, hard. He succumbed to the darkness that enveloped him.

Tbc.