THE NIGHT OF JULY 14th, 1960
By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT ONE
Later in the Wanderer
Feeling good and relaxed, after a dinner in the best restaurant in the Capital, and some dancing with one of the most beautiful women in Washington D.C. – an old friend - (dining and dancing only – not flirting even, as he was married and faithful to his wife Juanita, mother of his two children), James West climbed the metallic stairs leading to the rear platform of the Wanderer.
He was smiling broadly. The parlor car was still plunged into darkness – telling him that Artemus hadn't come back home yet. He was dating Lupita tonight and the two lovebirds were probably flirting at the Mexican Embassy, or had already shifted to a more 'physical approach', in a hotel room.
He suddenly stopped and ended his musing at the same time when he noticed, at his feet, a small packet wrapped in brown paper made visible by the taillights of the train. He picked it up with his brow creased with suspicion. It could be a bomb. He had received booby-trapped packages before, he thought.
He entered the parlor car, took a knife from the drawer of the work table and began to gently cut the paper with caution and a bit of apprehension.
Beneath the paper he found a wooden box and placed his ear against the lid to see if there was some kind of timer inside.
But he didn't hear anything.
Jim opened the box, slowly, very slowly – hoping there was no trigger mechanism but there was nothing of that kind.
He frowned, puzzled as he pulled out a handkerchief from the flat box. "What?"
Immediately after the secret agent's blood ran cold in his body when he saw the initials AG embroidered in a corner with gold thread. "Artie!" he said, dread gripping his heart. 'Someone has kidnapped Artemus,' he immediately realized as he noticed a folded piece of paper lying in the bottom of the box; no doubt it was a message from the kidnappers.
He hurried to unfold it and read what was written, out loud, "Dear Mr. West, your partner and best friend is my special guest. Mr. Gordon is in perfect health – for now. If you want to see him again, in one piece and still alive, meet me at midnight at the Grant Street pier. Come alone, unarmed and with no gadgets hidden on you, of course. Yours truly, Michelito Loveless."
His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened with anger. "He has escaped from prison and he has Artie", he said, crumpling the piece of paper.
Loveless had Artie, but as he didn't say anything about Lupita in his message, he probably hadn't kidnapped her too. Unless he was keeping that information to himself for a specific purpose that was unknown to him at the moment.
He dropped it on the work table and opened the fake row of books hiding the telegraph key. There was no time to lose.
He sent a telegram to Robert T. Malone, the Director of the Secret Service: Loveless Jr. escaped from prison – stop – kidnapped Artemus – stop – going to find him and free him – stop - will keep you updated as soon as I can – stop, James West.
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Later, midnight, Grant Street pier
Four silhouettes, weakly lit by a lone streetlamp, were standing at the end of the pier when James West dismounted from his horse.
He could see a big fishing boat called 'Silver II' berthed alongside the dock behind Loveless's henchmen. Another boat was there too, berthed at the dock a little farther away, the Silver I. People were on board, on the bow and on the stern, ready to cast off. He tied the reins of his black stallion to a post then headed toward Loveless's minions waiting for him.
Once Jim had reached the goons, guns in their hands, they went through his pockets, finding nothing. "He's clear," one of them said to the others.
The tallest of the men, a hulky red-head pointed at the gangway leading to the Silver II. "The boss is inside; he's waiting for you West, move!"
With a gun pressed against his back Jim complied and entered the rear cabin shortly after. Michelito Loveless was there, sitting in an armchair and smoking a cigar. He was dressed in dark sailor's clothes, gray linen pants, navy blue sweater and black jacket - 'surely to flee Washington incognito on that fishing boat!' Jim mused. Then he noticed a man tied up and gagged, lying on a bunk behind the plump, blond man. He recognized him immediately. "Artie!"
In a flash two henchmen moved on each side of Loveless pointing their guns at the special agent of the Secret Service.
Michelito Loveless gestured at the still drugged agent. "Mr. Gordon is alright Mr. West. I didn't touch a single hair of his head. He's sleeping soundly. The effects of the sedative running through his blood should wear off in a couple of hours. But of course you can check for yourself." And he watched Jim move toward his partner.
Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Jim took Artie's pulse, checked his breathing which was deep and even, and finally touched his brow to detect any fever.
Loveless Jr. smiled, "Are you satisfied, Mr. West?" He paused. "It's time to cast off!" he said to the sailor standing beside the door, on the deck. Then, turning his head, he saw Jim remove the gag, gently. "I told you, Mr. Gordon is fine."
His arms crossed on his chest, looking straight at Artie and then his Nemesis, he asked, "What do you want Loveless? Revenge?"
The short man gave Jim a dumb look. "Of course I want revenge. I spent a whole month in a cell because of Mr. Gordon and you!" He frowned, upset. "But I wasn't able to find the young man who is the spitting image of his father, I mean Andamo Gordon. It's like he never existed, but I will find him, eventually, and I will get rid of him too."
Jim hid a smile. 'Andamo is back in his own time and he's safe. You won't find him,' he mused. "Oh, I forgot to ask, where's Voltaire? Still in prison?"
Loveless Jr. nodded. "I couldn't take him with me. But I will free him soon. You'll have the pleasure of meeting him again."
Jim asked, "What about Lupita Quesada? What did you do to her?"
Loveless smiled. "Ah! The lovely General. I did nothing to her. I don't care about her." He lied. "She's probably still sleeping, like Mr. Gordon – in a bed at the Mexican Embassy."
Looking down at his sleeping partner again, Jim asked, "So, what happens now?"
Loveless let out a cloud of smoke. "What about a nice cruise on the Potomac? I have a house alongside Chesapeake Bay. We should be there in three days if the wind allows it." He looked at the goon on his right side and ordered him, "Escort Mr. West to the cargo hold, Benton. Then you will take Mr. Gordon there too. Oh and secure them with chains and shackles. I don't want them to escape. I prepared something exceptional for them."
WWW
Later in the cargo hold of the Silver II
When Artemus awoke, it was to a pounding headache and he groaned with pain before slowly opening his eyes.
Everything was hazy, and he blinked drowsily, his gaze still out of focus from drug induced sleep, then it cleared and the world around him eventually swam into focus.
He noticed that his ankles were restrained in shackles, said shackles linked to a short chain attached to a large steel ring fixed to the floor. He glanced around him, the room he was in was poorly lit, and piled with wooden crates and boxes of different sizes and the only light was coming from the lamp attached to the ceiling, slowly swaying.
The ambient air temperature was cold and he shivered.
He frowned, puzzled, as he could hear water – the smacking of waves to be precise – hit the walls – no, hit the hull, he realized. He was on a boat! 'A boat?'
He jumped as he felt a hand land on his shoulder and turned his head to his right. "Jim!" he exclaimed with surprise.
Facing his best friend Jim smiled. "Hi Artie!"
His brow furrowed Artie noticed that his partner was equally restrained. "Hi Jim. I'm always happy to see you, you know that, but not this time. You see I was counting on you to rescue me, and it's not going to happen now. What happened to you?"
Moving closer to Artemus Jim responded, "Junior wanted to see me, I came, and he captured me. It's that simple. Otherwise he could have tortured you and then killed you. Malone knows that I was going to find you. Nothing more. I didn't want him to send the cavalry as it would have ended in chaos. And Loveless Jr. would still have killed you. We'll get out of this predicament together."
Glancing around him, Artemus sighed. "Hmm. But it's not going to be easy. We're on board a boat and pretty well shackled."
Jim nodded. "We've been in worse situations – and we're still here."
Less optimistic, Artie said, "It's not difficult to imagine what's ahead for us, Jim. Hours of torture then a slow and very painful death. Unless you have something hidden on you… like an explosive pen to get rid of those shackles for example."
Shivers running through him, Jim shook his head. "No, sorry, no gadgets. I didn't bring any. It was Loveless's demand. What happened at the Mexican Embassy?"
Sighing, Artie replied. "Lupita and I were in the garden drinking Champagne when Junior and two of his goons surprised us. They used tranquilizer darts to neutralize us. Oh, my poor dear Lupita, she's probably dead worried about me…"
Nodding, Jim said, "Loveless told me he didn't do anything to her. He's not interested in her. He just wants to kill us. And she's probably doing whatever she can to find us. Her agents and ours are probably working together as we speak."
Artie nodded in his turn. "Yes, but they won't think about checking the fishing boats leaving Washington. It's a perfect way to get away undetected. It's very clever." He pulled hard on the chains attached to a ring deeply embedded in a solid beam. "We're stuck here."
The hatch suddenly opened and one of Loveless Jr.'s men came down the ladder. He was holding two thin blankets which he threw to the floor beside the prisoners. "Make yourselves comfortable," he said. There's no wind tonight. So we'll reach our destination in four days, not before. Have a good night, grandpas," Then, smirking, he left the cargo hold.
Feeling hurt, Artie frowned. "Grandpa? Do I look that old?" Then he grabbed a blanket with clumsy and stiff fingers and pulled it around his shaking shoulders.
Copying Artie Jim searched for something diplomatic to say in order not to hurt his best friend's feelings, Jim shook his head. "No. You look older than he and older than me, but not old."
Eyes narrowing, Artemus said, "He said grandpas, with an S, plural. You look old too, Jim. Especially with that ugly salt and pepper moustache."
Tracing his moustache with a proud finger Jim said, "I love it." He frowned, giving Artie a black look. "How is it ugly? Since when? You never told me that before."
Smirking Artie said, "Since the first time I saw you with it. And I'm not the only one to think it's ugly and it makes you look old." Suddenly he made a face. "I never told you that even though you told me that my hair looked funny." He ran a hand through his dark, abundant hair. "My hair is just perfect."
Jim snorted, scoffing. "Perfect? Oh, come on! It's all flat and lifeless. I preferred your hair shorter and curled – you looked younger then." He frowned realizing that he had made him, in fact, a compliment. He attacked again: "You're probably using something to dye your hair, because you should have a bunch of white hair now… You're 15 year older than me." He regarded his partner with an amused look. "You are what French people call a 'vieux beau', Artie. A man who, despite his advanced age, always tries to seduce women. Dyed hair!"
Crossing his arms on his hairy chest, Artie glared at his partner and replied, "Ha! Ha! Ha! Says the man who spends two hours taking care of a patch of hairs on top of his upper lip."
Narrowing his eyes, Jim said, "You have gained weight. Fortunately your Cheyenne horse is strong. He used to pull a tepee before being offered to you, right? There's little change." And he crossed his arms on his thickly muscled chest too.
Smiling Artie was the first to raise his hand in a peace gesture. "Okay, we're even. Ah! It feels good to banter with each other. We used to make fun of each other in the past… "
Smirking again Jim said, "When I was younger and you didn't look like a 'granpa', yes." He chuckled and then added, "Seriously, you should do something with your hair, Artie."
Chuckling, amused, Artemus replied, "And you should have that ugly moustache." Then his mobile face suddenly showed sadness and he said, "You know, we stopped our banter after President Grant's death… as our life was turned upside down and sorrow invaded our hearts. It was the end of an era…" He stared at the opposite hull for long minutes, eyes glazing over, losing focus, memories, good and bad flooding his mind. Then he continued, looking at Jim again, "And our 'joie de vivre' vanished with him. I can't believe he died five years ago ... for me it was like it was yesterday. I miss him a lot. I loved him like he was my own father."
Jim nodded. "I know, and miss him too, a lot." He paused and added, "Let's re-start our usual banter, we loved that Grant loved to hear us do that."
Shivering again, Artie said, "We already have, Jim. Brrrr! It's cold in here," as the chill in the air sank into his bones through the not too clean blankets he kept against his cold frame.
Shivering too, Jim nodded. "The cargo hold is located under the waterline Artie and the Potomac is very cold." He said and then yawned. "Let's get some sleep. Worrying serves nothing. We'll see soon enough what Junior has prepared for us."
His eyelids beginning to droop, Artie nodded. "Good idea, goodnight J'm," He closed his eyes and was fast asleep.
Jim's eyes drifted shut and soon he was snoring.
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The next morning
Jim was the first to open his eyes. He blinked twice remembering where he was and pulled himself into a sitting position. During the night he had slid onto his side.
He looked at his partner chained beside him and smiled. Artie had curled in on himself into a ball and had rolled himself up in his blanket, disappearing, or almost, beneath it. He shook his partner's shoulder and said, "Artie! Time to wake up buddy."
In response the older man groaned and said, "We are prisoners with nothing to do, so let me sleep." His stomach grumbled aloud and he became restless. "I'm hungry and I have to satisfy nature's call…" he sighed and emerged from the blanket. "Hiya Jim. Did you sleep well?"
Smiling, Jim nodded. "Yes, thank you. I can sleep like a rock anywhere under any circumstances. What about you buddy, did you sleep well?"
Shaking his head Artemus yawned. "No, I didn't. I was too cold. I dreamt about Lupita and me. We were both in Mexico, in her hacienda. We were watching our son ride a pony in the corral. He was a little sacred but was enjoying the ride too… then I dreamt about Andamo riding a pinto. He had fun..." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I miss him a lot Jim."
Jim nodded. "I miss him too Artie. But he's safe in his own time, out of reach of Loveless Jr.'s clutches. Ah! I can hear breakfast coming!"
The hatch opened and two burly men came down the ladder leading to the wedge. The first one held two plates of oatmeal and the second one two cups of steaming coffee. They placed them on the floor. "Breakfast! Who needs to pee?"
Jim and Artie both raised a hand.
WWW
Later
Jim and Artie screwed up their eyes as they emerged from the dark cargo hold to step on the deck lit by the harsh daylight.
Their vision adjusting, they exchanged a long look, thinking the same thing at the same time. The Potomac River bank was about two miles away, they mused, and they weren't restrained, no ropes, no shackles and chains, nothing.
Fog banks floated here and there above the dark water and could hide them, facilitating their escape. But first they had to get rid of the two armed men framing them.
Leaning toward Jim Artemus whispered, "You take the one on your right, and I the one of my left." He smiled and added, "See you later on the river bank Jim. At three. One… two… three!"
A well targeted punch sent Loveless's henchmen to the floor and the two agents jumped over the rail. They hit the water a couple of seconds later and went under. It was so cold that their chests seized up and they could not breathe. It was burning like acid.
They surged up out of the water, gasping, sucking in air, and once the initial freeze-shock was passed, both started to swim as fast as possible heading to the Potomac River bank, trying to stay together, to put some distance between them and the boat.
But they moved away from each other as they were enveloped in a bank of fog. They didn't see the boat change direction but they could hear voices saying: "We have to find them!", "they can't be very far", "They can't swim fast, they're old and decrepit!"
Both Artemus and Jim felt insulted by that.
The fog disguising Artie and Jim gradually dissipated and they could spot each other swimming in the right direction.
But the men of the Silver II located them too.
Artemus did his best to keep himself at his partner's level but cold and fatigue slowed him down. He pivoted to see where the sailing boat was and gasped as he noticed that it was right behind him.
Two sailors threw a large, heavy fishing net in the air and it landed on Artie, trapping him inside and pulling him under the water.
Artemus sucked in lungful's of water and resurfaced, spluttering, kicking his legs wildly, his wet clothes hampering his movements, trying to get rid of the net to escape an inevitable death by drowning. "No, no, no…" he let out.
Terrorized he completely forgot that he wouldn't die that way and not in the next few minutes, but very old and in his bed.
Sheer panic had taken over.
He swallowed water again when an undertow caught him and pulled him under, under the boat. He resurfaced again utterly panicked, arms flying every which way, coughing, gagging and wheezing – still prisoner of the fishing net.
He couldn't swim, couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
Being a better swimmer that Artie, Jim had almost reached the bank when he looked behind him to see if his best friend had followed and gasped watching the tableau, fear gripping his heart.
He didn't hesitate one split second.
He had to save Artie.
He swam at top speed toward his best friend kicking wildly, with the current, to catch up with Artemus who had resurfaced entangled in the fishing net weighing him down. He was struggling to stay above water, desperately calling," Jim! Jim!" But once again, he went down in the river.
Suddenly a floating band of fog hid Artie and Jim lost visual, and his dread of losing his quasi-brother increased exponentially.
He couldn't see Artemus but could hear him suck in a greedy amount of air, his chest heaving and coughing. He had resurfaced, Jim thought with a smile on his blue-cold lips.
He was at arm's reach from Artie when the older man paralyzed by cold, not feeling his limbs, hypothermia setting in, and feeling exhausted, sank like a stone under the water. "No!" Jim cried out.
He plunged and reached out blindly in the muddy water … swimming in circles, battling with the current pushing him to the side, and with oppressing darkness, and after one minute, he touched something solid, sinking, felt skin, touched a hand, Artie's hand.
He wrapped one arm around his partner's chest and pulled him up to the surface. Then he maneuvered himself behind Artie and slung his left arm over his chest, keeping Artemus's head and shoulders above water. Then he began moving them both toward the boat where two sailors hoisted them on board.
Once Artemus was freed from the fishing net he was tangled in, Jim sank to his knees beside him, taking his pulse.
He found one, erratic but strong.
Hearing a moan coming from Artie Jim gently slapped the older man's pale face. "Artie, wake up." And Artemus's eyes flew open, clouded with pain and exhaustion and his whole body convulsed.
He jerked and coughed violently, sputtering water.
In a flash Jim turned his partner on his side and supported Artie as water rushed out of his mouth, his lips tinged with blue. "That's it buddy, that's it, I've got you," he added, as his best friend spat more water on the deck – followed by the contents of his stomach too.
Exhaling with deep relief, Jim collapsed on the deck, burying his face in his trembling hands, his teeth clattering together.
They both lay there, panting, soaked right through, violent waves of shivers making their freezing bodies convulse, trying to regain control of them, but failing.
Michelito Loveless looked down at the two soaked, gasping and shivering special agents, brow creased and eyes flashing. He was furious. "That was stupid! That was very, very stupid! You could have both died drowned – and I need to keep you alive to be able to kill you myself, later."
Breathing heavily Jim looked up at the short man. "We had to try to escape. It's is the first duty of a prisoner… and go to hell Loveless!" He said between gasps.
Hurting all over, Artemus opened his eyes sluggishly and panted, unable to speak for long moments. He only managed unintelligible grunts. His lungs were burning. "It seemed to be a good… idea", he finally croaked, staring at Loveless Jr. with unfocused eyes, his throat burning too. Black dots filled his vision then he felt himself drift into darkness.
Tbc.