THE NIGHT OF JULY 14th, 1960

By Andamogirl

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ACT FOUR

The next morning,

0230 AM

The restaurant's dining room was deserted when Artemus entered the place still wearing his cook attire – a white toque and a white jacket - a grin illuminating his tired face.

Lucky and Andamo, both sitting at a table, were having a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette when they saw him.

Immediately, Andamo waved to his grandfather. "How was it?" he asked him, curious.

Rubbing his temples, Artie took a place at the table. "It was intense and exhausting. I usually cook for two, for Jim and me, or for Jim, me and two lovely ladies… I never prepared food for close to 100 people before, it was intense, tiring, but it was very exciting too!"

Lucky smiled. "The Chef told me that he greatly appreciated your work Artemus. You were very professional, he said. And he really loved – and our customers too – all the French pastries you made. You know, I'm thinking about keeping you here - indefinitely."

Artie shook his head. "Thank you very much Lucky, but my place is in my own time, working with my partner. I can't stay here – and I won't."

Lucky offered Artie a cigarette then lit it with his lighter. "I was joking, of course."

Smiling weakly Artemus yawned and stood up. "I know. If you will excuse me, it's late and I've had a long and excruciating day. Good night, gentlemen."

Both Lucky and Andamo said in a concert, "Good night, sleep well."

Once Artie was gone, Andamo smiled broadly. "He's such a marvelous man! He's a Secret agent extraordinaire, a master of disguise, a great actor, a great musician – he can play violin and piano like a concert professional– he's a great cook too and he can speak many languages: French, German, Spanish, Russian… etc. He can take on any kind of accent too, upper class English accent, Texas accent… He's a man of many talents."

Lucky chuckled. "I know now why you wanted to meet him – you revere him, compadre, he's your idol. And I understand why you do. He is indeed a man of many talents."

Smiling, Andamo nodded. "And he's an Indian too, a Cheyenne warrior, a Crow warrior and a Comanche warrior. Let me tell you ow he got his Comanche tattoo…"

Once outside, Artemus fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the side pocket of his white cook jacket. First a pause, then bed, he thought.

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Later

Artemus was leaning heavily against the rail of the fantail, relaxing, enjoying a third cigarette when he heard a low thud, then another one, louder.

He immediately bent over the rail and saw a dark motorboat berthing by the gangway. Three men left it a few seconds later, armed with guns.

They wore dark well-tailored suits and their faces were hidden behind masks. "Bandits!" he whispered. He threw his cigarette overboard and rushed toward the large door of the dining room.

Unfortunately one of the bandits saw the Secret Service agent and the man moved to intercept Artie just before he could reach the door.

He pointed his . 38 at the older man. "You, the cook! Freeze or I shoot you!"

Suppressing a swear, Artie complied reluctantly and he slowly raised his hands above his head. "Don't shoot me!" he said feigning fright.

The gangster smiled. "That's a good cook. Now turn around." Keeping his eyes on Artemus, he said to his companions, "Go to the restaurant, and take the money. I'm gonna take care of the cook." The other bandits headed toward the dining room. "Turn around, old man, slowly," he added.

Keeping his hands above his head, Artemus did what he was told, tautening his muscles, ready for action. But he didn't have time to do anything.

The gangster punched Artie against a nearby bulkhead, hard, almost breaking the older man's nose as his face made contact with the white-painted wood. "Don't move grandpa." He lifted his gun, butt first and brought it down, targeting the back of Artie's head.

But the Special Agent didn't comply. He whirled around in a split second and caught the gun in his two hands. Then, grabbing the revolver in one hand, he punched the gangster with his other one, hard and there was a cracking sound.

Before he could cry out in pain, he pressed a pressure point between the bandit's shoulder and neck, rendering him instantly unconscious.

The man collapsed to the deck, unconscious, blood pooling under his broken nose. Artie massaged his aching knuckles, smiling, proud of himself. "Not bad for an old man… Ow!"

Holding the .38 Artemus silently moved along the deck, keeping his head low, and peered inside the restaurant dining room, through a window.

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Lucky and Andamo, standing beside the safe had a gun pointed at them both. "Okay, Lucky," the tallest bandit said. "Open the safe and give us all the money. No tricks! I won't hesitate to kill you."

Looking falsely innocent, Andamo feigned surprise. "All the money? We barely had three customers tonight. There's only 50 dollars in the safe."

The shortest bandit grabbed Andamo's arm and twisted it behind his back painfully, nearly dislocating his shoulder. "Very funny! I don't believe you."

The Latino cried out and sank to his knees, wincing.

Lucky took a step forward. "Andamo!" and ended with the muzzle of a .44 against his jaw. "Don't do anything you might regret."

Pulling himself upright, Andamo rubbed his pounding shoulder. "I'm alright," he said to his worried best friend. "I'm okay."

Suddenly, Artemus entered the vast room, face like stone. He stopped, aimed calmly and fired precisely. The bandits crumpled on the floor, each with a bullet in their shoulder.

Lucky and Andamo were surprised for a couple of seconds then immediately grabbed the other men's guns, pointing them at their owners. "Don't move!" they both said.

The Latino smiled in admiration and winked at his grandfather. "Nice shooting for an old cook," he said bowing his head.

Lucky nodded. "I'm calling the launch and Lieutenant Rovacs. He should be there with a squad in 30 minutes." He patted Artie's shoulder. "Thank you, Artemus."

Artemus finally lowered his gun. "That was a pleasure, Lucky. There's another bandit in the fantail. I knocked him out. You should find a rope and tie him up."

Lucky nodded. "Okay, I'm going to do it before calling the Lieutenant. You two stay here with our guests keeping an eye of them." Then he left the dining room, running.

Seeing that Andamo was rubbing his aching shoulder, concerned, Artie asked, "Are you okay?"

Setting his gun down on a table, Andamo took his cigarette case from the inside pocket of his white spencer jacket and opened it. "Yes, I'm okay thank you. You?"

Lifting his right hand Artemus, flexed his sore fingers. "I'm fine. I knocked out that bandit with a single punch, I'm still good."

Smiling, Andamo offered a cigarette to his grandfather and then lit it with his gold-plated lighter. Then he placed a cigarette between his lips.

Soon after, the two men were letting out puffs of smoke.

Intrigued, Artie asked, "I've noticed that you smoke cigarettes with your left hand while you're right handed my boy, can you tell me why?"

Andamo chuckled. Artemus too was using his left hand to hold his cigarette. "You too. That way I keep my right hand ready to do anything – like pulling a gun out of my pocket. It's quicker than the left one."

Still aiming at the bandits lying on the floor, Artemus sat down on a chair, wrapped his lips around the cigarette again and drew the smoke in.

He smiled and said, "A new point of similarity between us." He puffed a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. "I prefer cigars myself, the cigars the late President Grant was smoking to be precise, but I'm beginning to like cigarettes a lot."

Andamo nodded. "After what you just did, I'm going to offer you box of cigars, the best cigars! You were prodigious! So calm, and your aim was perfect."

Artemus waved his left hand. "That's nothing really. I'm an excellent marksman at close range. They didn't have a chance."

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Later

0310 AM

Lieutenant Rovacs watched his men take the robbers to the launch and then joined Lucky, Andamo and Artemus in the restaurant dining room.

They were drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes, enveloped in a cloud of smoke. "The boys will put them in a jail shortly," he said taking a place on an empty chair. He looked at Artie, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Lucky told me it was you who shot them, and who neutralized the third goon. You're pretty good with your fists and with a gun for a cook mister… mister…?"

In a matter of seconds Artie realized that he couldn't say that he was Andamo's grandfather as Feliz was two years older than him. He was born in 1892.

He smiled, "I'm Artemus Gordon, Andamo's uncle, Feliz's half-brother. We have a different mother, but the same father." He paused dropping the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Oh that was pure luck you know? I hate guns and any kind violence in general. I came here to see how Andamo is doing and spend some time with him. It happens that I'm a good cook and as Lucky needed an assistant to his Chef, I offered him my services during my stay here, to thank him for his hospitality."

Keeping his face neutral, Andamo hid a smile. "He's perfect at lying, what a good actor! He thought. Then he poured a cup of coffee for Rovacs. "A cup of coffee Lieutenant?"

Rovacs nodded. "Thanks." He took a sip, grimaced at the bitterness and said, "So you're Andamo's uncle, that explains the stunning resemblance. The two of you really look alike. That's incredible!" Now that you are yourself again, tell me what happened to you. We found you almost naked wandering through the streets…"

To make his story more credible, Artemus rubbed the back of his head in a faux automatic gesture. "I was attacked on my way to the port. Two men hit me on my head hard and I passed out. They took everything, my money, my clothes, and my luggage. When I regained consciousness, I was so groggy and disoriented that I got lost. Fortunately for me a police patrol found me, then you brought me here, to my nephew, and I thank you, Lieutenant."

Rovacs nodded again. "Did you see the men who did that to you?"

Artie shook his head." No, they were masked."

The police officer gulped down his coffee and said, "I'd like to see you at the police headquarters as soon as possible, Mr. Gordon. You need to make a theft and assault report and file a complaint."

Artie shook his head. "That won't be necessary Lieutenant. What they stole from me can easily be replaced. I already forgot what happened."

Rovacs frowned even more suspicious. 'Something's not right here', he thought. 'Artemus Gordon, hmm… once back in my office I will search out any bit of information on the guy. And I'll have the whole story.' He stood up and said, "Okay, it is your right not to file a complaint. I have a report to write, Lucky, Andamo, Mr. Gordon, good night."

Then he left the restaurant dining room.

Lucky exhaled a puff of smoke and said, "You lied very well, Artemus, but I know Rovacs, he's a very suspicious man. I think he didn't buy your story. He's going to find information on you as soon as he reaches his desk and his phone. "

Artie sighed and drew out a matchbox from his side pants pocket. He lit another cigarette, took a drag on it, and let the smoke out slowly, watching it ascending toward the ceiling where it met the cloud floating there. Then he looked at the Lucky. "Then I guess we'll see the Lieutenant again, soon. The Secret Service still has my file, I suppose, archived of course. But as I am dead, he won't have any trouble accessing it. My file is probably declassified." He smiled. "I bet that he'll be very surprised to read 'deceased'' written on top of it."

Lucky nodded. "Then we'll tell him the whole story. Rovacs is a cop yes, but he's a good guy; he'll keep all of it to himself. Your secret will be safe with him." Seeing that Artemus and Andamo had both closed their eyes with fatigue, he said, "Let's call it a night."

The two Gordon's yawned in concert.

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0730 AM

Lieutenant Rovacs dropped the two files he was holding on the table and looking at Lucky he said, "I need to talk to the three of you, it's important."

Lucky poured himself a third cup of coffee. "Andamo and Artemus are still sleeping Lieutenant. I'm barely awake myself. But someone has to keep an eye on the Fortuna."

The white-haired man frowned, upset and ordered. "Now, Lucky!"

Lucked nodded. "Alright, but I'm not sure they will be very cooperative after only 4 hours' sleep." He stood up and then left the fantail, heading toward the cabins.

He knocked at Andamo's door first and then entered, finding the younger man still clothed sprawled on his bed, lying on his stomach, his head half buried in the pillow.

Lucky smiled and sat on the edge of the mattress. He shook his best friend's shoulder, gently. "Andamo, wake up buddy," he said. No reaction. The tall man rolled the younger man on his back and tapped his best friend's cheeks eliciting a soft moan from Andamo. "Come on compadre, come on, wake up."

Moaning Andamo slowly opened his eyes. "Wha…?" he blinked twice then closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Lucky chuckled softly and tapped Andamo's cheeks again. "Okay buddy, wake up!"

The Latino opened his eyes slowly again and said, "Let me sleep please Lucky and wake me in a week or so. Okay?"

Lucky shook his head. "I can't, I'm sorry. Rovacs is here, he wants to see us. I mean Artemus, you and me. I'm going back to the fantail, I'll leave you to wake up, Artemus. I prepared breakfast."

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Later

Both Andamo and Artemus both slumped tiredly into a chair, shoulders hunched, each of them glaring with puffy eyes at Lieutenant Rovacs.

The policeman smiled, amazed. "The two of you have exactly the same expression you know? You could be twins if there were not such an age gap between you."

Huffing Andamo nodded and started spreading strawberry jam on a piece of bread. "What do you want? I hope it's important, otherwise I'm going to head back to my bed," he said grumpily. Then he took the cup of coffee Lucky had prepared for him. "Thanks."

Rovacs opened the first file, the one on the top. "The men who came on board last night to rob you are working for Julius Hirsch, the famous mobster ruling the East Side." He showed the three men mugshots of the robbers then a photo of Julius Hirsch. "Of course they didn't say a word and they won't. They know what would happen to them in prison if they talk to the police. Hirsch doesn't risk anything."

Lucky frowned, puzzled. "Why would Hirsch want money? He could buy the whole country if he wanted to. It makes no sense at all."

Rovacs closed the file. "There are rumors that Hirsch lost a great deal of money – almost all his fortune – buying gold mines in a South American country. He was in cahoots with the local El Dictador when a revolution broke out and he was forced from power. The mines were nationalized right after. He needs money, and the Fortuna is an easy target. It has not got armed men guarding the safe and there's always lots of money in it and only Andamo and you are onboard once the customers are gone."

Closing his eyes Andamo stretched, raising his arms over his head and yawned - before reopening them and asking, "Do you think he'll try to rob us again?"

The police officer nodded. "Oh I'm sure, that's why I'm going to post two police cars on the port to dissuade bad guys from heading toward the Fortuna." He closed the file and opened the second file which was a thick one, while looking at Artemus who was eating a croissant au beurrehungrily. "Now let's talk about you Mr. Gordon. I was suspicious last night and didn't buy your story – at all. Call it cop's instinct. And you get rid of Hirsch's henchmen calmly and easily, like a great professional – like a hit man…"

Freezing, Artie said, "I'm not a hit man." Then he swallowed a piece of French pastry looking at the policeman right in his eyes, impassible.

Rovacs continued, "Or a Secret Service man…" and there was no reaction from Artemus who just finished his croissant.

Slowly wiping his greasy fingers on the napkin Artie asked, "Which do you prefer?"

The police Lieutenant replied, "Both being possible, I didn't choose. I contacted a friend of mine working at the FBI and asked if he knew a hit man matching your description, and after a while he said no. Then I contacted a friend of mine working at the CIA." He tapped on the file with two fingers and added, "He found this and sent it to me. It's a very old file from the first US Secret Service – it has been declassified of course – because Artemus Gordon is dead. He died 50 years ago." He pulled out a document from the file and brandished it. "This document is your death certificate!" He paused staring at Artie but the older man didn't react. He added, "If I believe what's in this folder, Artemus Gordon is Feliz Gordon's father, so you're not Andamo's uncle. You're his grandfather."

Pouring himself a cup of coffee Artie smiled mischievously. "Do I look dead to you Lieutenant? As you can see, I'm very much alive."

Lieutenant Rovacs shook his head. "Yes, that's why I think that old file is phony." And he pushed the file into the middle of the table. "The only real thing here is you being a Gordon, there's no doubt about that because there's a striking resemblance between Andamo and you. But are you even his uncle? I don't have any information on you and won't have any – why? Because you're an agent of the CIA."

Lucky, Andamo and Artemus exchanged a knowing look. 'Let him think that, so we won't have to tell him the truth.' They both thought at the same time.

Smiling Artemus nodded and then took a sip of his coffee. "I would appreciate that you stay discreet on my secret profession, Lieutenant," he said.

Rovacs nodded. "Of course. Are you on a mission?"

Artemus waved his finger. "I can't tell you, it's secret. But I really was assaulted and robbed of everything except my underwear and I was concussed."

Lucky took Artemus Gordon's Secret Service file and started browsing the old, yellowish pages more and more fascinated by what he read here and there.

Every detail on Artemus Gordon was held there: a personal profile with photos of Artemus as a Captain in the Union Army, in civil clothes as agent of the Secret Service, as an old man dressed in a Colonel's uniform shaking President Roosevelt's hand, etc; lists of missions – he counted 20 pages - medical files, lists of commendations and citations from Presidents Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland, Harrison, Cleveland again, McKinley and finally Roosevelt, a list of all the decorations he had received, many medals of valor and three Medals of Honor! And finally he found Artemus's death certificate. 1830-1910. He was buried in Arlington… He looked at Artemus in awe. The man sitting beside him and sipping his coffee was a hero.

He knew why Andamo had such great admiration for his grandfather – 'and I do too, now', Lucky thought with reverential respect.

Lieutenant Rovacs pointed at the file in Lucky's hands while still watching Artemus. "I read it, it's really impressive! If the guys working for the CIA personnel department can write such a phony file, they should make a fortune writing fairy tale books and scenarios for movies. You can keep it Mr. Gordon, I don't need it." He stood up and added, "Be careful, all of you and call me if something bad happens." Then he headed to the gangway where the launch was waiting.

Still tired, Andamo yawned widely and rubbed his puffy eyes. "Do you think Hirsch is going to send his men here again?"

Frowning, worried, Lucky nodded. "Yes, I think so. But if Artemus here gets rid of them like he did with those guys last night, he will think twice about doing it again."

Artemus chuckled. "Are you hiring me as a gunslinger now?" He took his file and opened it, paying attention to the photos only. He took one of Jim and he both dressed in a Union Captain's uniform and sighed missing his best friend and partner very much. "It's my partner James West and I. We had both received the Medal of Honor from President Grant."

Andamo opened his eyes wide amazed. "You have a Medal of Honor?" Andamo asked. "Whoa! You never told me. Can I see the photo?"

Artie gave it to his grandson. "Actually I have three Medals of Honor, and I don't know how many medals of valor I have too." He smiled. "It was a long time ago. Jim and I we… we…" His face suddenly shadowed and his eyes misted with tears. The vacuum left by Jim at his side was becoming unbearable. He had held on so far in trying not to think about it, but it was impossible now. He didn't know what to do, he thought, apart from crying over his loss. He stood up. "Excuse me, but I need to go back to my cabin to end my too short night in my bed. I'm very tired. See you later, gentlemen."

Shoulders hunched, he left the fantail and headed toward his cabin.

Lucky frowned in concern. "He misses his partner a lot."

Sympathetic to his grandfather's sadness, Andamo nodded placing the photo back in the file. "Jim West is more than his partner Lucky; he's like a brother to him. he misses him a lot and he's worried about him a. He can't protect him. They are used to protecting each other since the end of the war, I mean the Civil War."

Lucky nodded. "I understand, I feel the same way with you buddy."

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Later, at the end of the afternoon

Stretched out on the comfortable couch of the fantail, lit by the golden sunset, Artemus was reading the local newspaper when Andamo joined the older man.

The Latino took a seat on the nearby cushion and smiled broadly, amused. His grandfather was wearing khaki Bermuda shorts and a white T-shirt and he was barefoot. He was completely relaxed.

He chuckled and said, "You know, I always thought that the famous Special Agent of the Secret Service Artemus Gordon never relaxed, was always ready to grab his gun or pull out a sleeping gas bomb from his pocket to react to any threat, night and day – and even while on leave."

Lowering the Puerto Verde Herald, Artie grinned. "Our lives didn't – I mean they don't look like those of the spies you see in movies on television – who never rest and who always have their gun at hand and are ready to go on missions at any time, day and night and don't even wince when they're hurt, and spend a few hours at the hospital after a bullet wound. It's nonsense! The real life of special agents is not like that. What a wonderful invention is television by the way! I spent the whole afternoon watching it, especially 'westerns' and I loved it. Didn't your father tell you about that?"

Reaching out toward the bottle of lemonade sat on the low table, Andamo replied, "No, he didn't. He told me about all your action-intense life. Not the calm episodes. He was so proud of your incredible exploits – and still is. He loves you."

Looking at the bright orange sun, Artie nodded. "I'd like to meet him very much… and I will. I didn't think that I would fall in love again having been broken-hearted twice…"

Furrowing his brow in curiosity, Andamo asked. "I know about Lily Fortune… but who is the other woman who broke your heart?"

Looking again at his grandson, Artie sighed. "White Crow. She's a Crow warrior… " He waved his hand. "The past is past." He paused and smiled. "I thought I would never get married and have a son and a grandson... I thought I would end up being killed on a mission ... or with a lot of luck, end up alone in my family home, old, surrounded by cats…"

Andamo nodded. "My grandmother never told me about those calm moments in your life either, you know? She loved that kind of life too."

Folding the newspaper on his lap, Artie chuckled. "I'm sure that my life at her side is going to be very eventful and dangerous. Could you tell be about that?"

Pouring himself a glass of cold, bubbling liquid, Andamo shook his head, "I could, but I'm not going to. I wouldn't want to spoil your fun, so it's a no. I'm not going to say a single word about that."

Stretching like an oversized cat, Artie said, "Jim and I relaxed after each mission usually in charming company in front of a dinner I prepared or in a restaurant, with wine and Champagne…"

The Latino took a sip of lemonade, smiled and said, "My father told me that during that mission in Mexico, Lupita had kissed Jim first… then slapped him."

Smiling too Artemus moved into a sitting position on his large cushion. "I was attracted to Lupita since I saw her in this potter's workshop and I was frustrated at Jim kissing her, and not me. I wasn't jealous, I don't know what it is, anyway… So Lupita kissed me… and something happened, like as if I had been struck by lightning and she looked at me with love, smiling… what an adorable smile, so charming and tender… We both fell in love with each other at the same time and then she slapped me so Jim and I are even. She didn't want to wreak havoc between us because of her, and that would never have happened anyway, as Jim and I are like brothers, but it was a delicate gesture."

Chuckling Andamo added, "Then you took her to a restaurant and after dinner, you spent the night together in a hotel room…"

Pouring himself another glass of lemonade Artie replied, "It was a night in heaven…" He swallowed a mouthful of lemonade, ending the conversation that way. Then, setting the empty glass back on the coffee table he stood and added, "I have to go to the galley now."

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Much later

0136

Lucky found Artemus standing on the deck at his favorite place, leaning against the rail of the fantail watching the last launch leave the gangway.

He was holding a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers.

The older man was still dressed in his cook's attire, lost in his thoughts. "You had many other compliments from the Chef and the customers", the tall man said. "Your boeuf Stroganov with roasted potatoes, garlic and parsley was a must. Everyone ordered it in the restaurant or almost."

Artemus took a drag and blew the smoke out, tapping lightly on top of his cigarette with his index finger letting the ashes fall down to the calm ocean. "I'm glad they liked it," he said flatly.

Lucky moved closer, leaning against the rail too, watching the lights of the shore shining three miles away. He sighed and said, "When Andamo vanished two months ago thanks to Otepek, I almost went mad with worry. He had just vanished into thin air and I didn't know what happened, where he was… We have dangerous enemies, he and I." He paused and glanced at Artie. "I couldn't sleep anymore, I wasn't eating anymore, I didn't move from the phone expecting a call from him, or dreading a call from Rovacs, from the hospital or from the morgue… I didn't know if he was alive, or dead. That was true hell! I have a brother's love for Andamo, and I understand what you feel now. The man you love like a brother is somewhere, trapped in the past, maybe in danger and you can't help him." He placed a soothing hand on the older man's shoulder. "But you won't stay here, you and I both know that, you'll go back to your time and James West. You'll be together again - I don't know how and when, but you will be reunited."

Nodding, Artie smiled feeling much better. "I miss him so much, and my life at his side too, I completely forgot that. Thank you for reminding me."

Lucky smiled too, happy to see that the older man felt better. "Go to your cabin, take some rest Artemus, I'll take the first shift. Then Andamo will. He'll wake you for your shift."

Artie nodded. "Alright, good night Lucky and thank you again," he said, after throwing his cigarette overboard. He turned around and headed toward the cabins.

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Much later

BANG!

A gunshot, then a second awoke Artemus with a start.

He didn't bother putting some clothes on and, wearing only his striped pajamas, he opened the door of his cabin. Once in the corridor he heard a third gunshot – and a cry of pain followed by a curse in Spanish. He recognized his grandson's voice and his blood ran cold in his veins.

Andamo was hurt!

The bandits had returned!

Hirsch had sent more of his henchmen on board and they had avoided the policemen posted on the port and had come on board, he thought.

Careful, silent, Artemus climbed the metal stairs leading to the deck and followed the voices resounding in the night. They came from the restaurant dining room.

Through a partially opened window the US Secret Service agent saw three masked and armed gangsters plus Lucky and Andamo standing next to an open and now empty safe.

One of the gangsters was holding a fully stocked linen bag, bundles of banknotes coming out from the opening at the top.

He noticed that Andamo was grasping his left arm, grimacing in pain. Blood was pouring through a hole in the sleeve of his white bolero jacket. He sighed in relief, his grandson wasn't seriously wounded. He tightened his jaw readying himself for action.

Now he had to stop the bandits!

One of the gangsters, probably the leader of the group, said, "If you call the police Lucky, your friend here is dead." He snapped his fingers. "Hold the Mexican!" Immediately the two other men grabbed Andamo pretty roughly, pointing a gun at him." He added, "We'll release him somewhere in the city, once we are safe." He pointed his revolver at Lucky and finally said, "Stay here."

Almost crouching Artie walked toward the gangway. He glanced above the rail and saw a dark boat waiting there with the masked pilot on board, its motor whirring, and ready to depart.

He glanced then at the side door of the restaurant dining room. The bandits plus Andamo were going to appear on the deck anytime now, he mused.

His plan fixed in his head, Artemus climbed the stairway that led to the upper deck and moved to the rail overlooking the lower deck at the gangway.

Silently, he crouched on the floor, so as the man on the boat couldn't see him and give warning to his accomplices or worse, take out a gun and shoot him. 'At the last moment, when they are on the lower deck, beneath me, I'll straddle the rail and throw myself on top of them. I will use the element of surprise to get rid of them,' He thought, sure of success.

Half a minute later the gangsters and Andamo appeared on the deck.

Shortly after, Artie threw himself on top of the robbers and pinned two of them beneath his large frame. He pulled himself upright in a matter of seconds, grabbed a gun that one gangster had dropped on the deck then fired at the goon holding the bag filled with banknotes. The gangster cried out in pain, and collapsed, a bullet in his leg, and dropped his gun overboard. Using the butt of his gun Artie hit the head of the second groggy gangster who was moving upright on his knees.

He pivoted in a split second to face the third gangster and saw the leader of the bandits aim his gun at him and then heard a loud BANG.

The impact of the bullet to his body, threw Artie against the nearby bulkhead and with a yelp he slid to the floor, slowly, grimacing in pain, tears welling to his eyes. "Ow! God!" He let out, one hand clamped tightly over the burning wound in his right side.

In a flash Andamo grabbed the gun Artie was still holding and fired at the other man – hitting him square in his chest. The gangster crumpled onto the deck like a sack of potatoes.

Hearing gunshots, the man in the motorboat hurried to untie the tether and left the Fortuna II at top speed, heading towards the shore.

His face pale and his brow furrowed in deep worry Andamo knelt beside his grandfather who was seriously wounded watching the blood paint the white jacket red. "Lucky!" He called. Luckyyyyyy!"

Lucky headed toward them at top speed. "I just called Rovacs with the ship-to-shore phone and then Pudge. He'll be here within ten minutes at most. An ambulance will arrive on the dock within minutes too." He also knelt beside Artemus, still slumped up against the bulkhead. "Artemus ?"

Blinking slowly, trying to stay conscious Artie whispered, "M still here…"

Lucky gently lay the wounded man down on the deck. "We are going to take you to the hospital, Artemus. Hold on." He added his own hands on top of the secret agent's and pressed even more on the wound. The pain was so sharp and deep that Artie cried out and almost heaved. "I'm sorry, but we need to slow the bleeding. Andamo, continue to press on the wound, while I remove my jacket!"

Hurting too, bleeding too, but injured less seriously, the Latino immediately complied, wincing. "You're going to be okay, Artemus," he said, hoping he was right.

Lucky quickly removed his jacket, rolled it in a tight ball and, holding it in one hand; he used his free hand to remove Andamo's hand and Artie's. He pulled the older man's jacket up to his chest, revealing a gaping wound on his right side, a lot of blood pouring freely from it.

Lucky grimaced. "It doesn't look too bad, you'll be okay." He placed his jacket on top and applied pressure on the bullet wound. "I'm sorry, but I have to do it," he said.

Eyes tight shut, Artie let out a strangled cry of agony and gritted his teeth, tears of intense pain rolling down his cheeks.

He blacked out for an instant, then opened his eyes again, his vision graying out around the edges. He was losing consciousness, he realized. "It's alright… alright," he breathed. "It's not the first time I've been shot… Ow! That hurts!' He hoarsely rasped out. He closed his eyes. "Jim… help," he croaked, then he passed out, going limp on the deck of the Fortuna II.

Lucky stood. "I'm going to find ropes to tie the gangsters up."

WWW

On the harbor at the same time

Happy and relieved James West grinned.

Because After searching for the Fortuna II along the wharfs and the docks of Puerto Verde for hours, he had finally found her, floating miles away from the shore, its neon sign that read "Lucky's" alongside a tall, thin and one-eyed cat flashing in the night, he mused. "Artie's on board," he said. "I have to find a way to reach him, but not by swimming, if possible…"

Hearing a noise, he moved closer to the edge and saw a motorboat ready to depart down the gangway. Holding his . 45 Colt in his hand, he ran there and then jumped in the back of the boat.

He pointed his gun at the pilot who immediately raised his hands and said, "Don't be afraid! I'm not going to shoot you. "He pulled his identification card out of the inner pocket of his jacket. "My name's James West, I'm a Special Agent of the Government. I need to get on that boat over there, the Fortuna. Take me there, please." Then he lowered his revolver.

Feeling much better, Pudge lowered his hands, nodded, said, "Okay," Then he left the gangway. Once heading toward the giant yacht, the man turned around and said, "I was heading toward her anyway you know, Sir. There was a shooting on board and the new assistant cook is wounded. Lucky and Andamo – the owners of the Fortuna – need my boat to transport the man to the dock. An ambulance is coming for him."

His six sense tingling, Jim frowned in worry. "This man, the cook, do you know is name?" he asked sitting on a bench.

The older man nodded, changing course to reach the yacht's gangway. "His name is Artemus Gordon. Do you know him?"

Jim nodded and asked. "Yes, I know him very well. When do we reach the Fortuna?"

The pilot accelerated. "In five minutes."

WWW

Later

The large motorboat had just reached the Fortuna II when Jim jumped on the gangway and climbed it at top speed… to stop dead in his tracks at the top a few seconds later, seeing his best friend lying prone on the deck, unmoving and still. Artie was framed between a tall, dark-haired man he didn't know, dressed in a black suit (minus the jacket) and Andamo he recognized immediately. He frowned in worry as he spotted blood on the Latino's sleeve.

He noticed then Artemus's pajama jacket, reddened with blood. "Artie!" he said, blanching.

He hurried toward the other men and sank to his knees beside his wounded partner, Andamo moving to Artie's feet to give him room.

Looking at Jim with utter surprise Andamo said his tone as reassuring as possible, "He's still alive, Jim. He's just unconscious." Then he frowned, puzzled. "I wasn't expecting you, you know? Artemus told me that Loveless had exiled you in the English Middle Ages."

Shaking his head, Jim replied, "Oh he wanted to, but it didn't happen." He pointed at Andamo's wound and added, "You're injured."

The Latino nodded. "It's nothing, don't worry." He grinned. "I should have known that you would come to the rescue, you always do that when Artemus is in danger."

Sighing in relief, Jim gently turned Artemus over to check for an exit wound, and found one meaning that the bullet wouldn't have to be surgically removed and complications avoided. "And Artemus always intervenes when I'm in danger too, saving my life each time." After that, he rolled the older man on his back and took Artie's hand in his, finding it burning with fever. He shook it gently, but firmly. "Artie! Wake up buddy!" And Artemus's eyes fluttered open. "Come on Artie!"

Eyes half-opened, Artie smiled weakly. His eyes were going glassy and having trouble staying open. He was shivering but also sweating. "Jim-my-boy, fancy… meeting you here. I thought you were… you were stuck in medieval England… courting some 'demoiselles endétresse' in some castles… or jousting, or killing a dragon or two, y'know… a knight's day job."

Jim smiled. "Dragons exist only in fairy tales and I didn't travel in time. It's a long story. Hold on buddy, I'm going to bring you home."

Artie managed a very small smile. "Home… y's, bring m' home, I have a date with Lupi…" Then he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Jim turned toward Andamo, rested Artie's hand on his stomach and then took the Latino in his arms. He hugged the younger man for a long moment. "It's good to see you again, Andamo." He said, finally pulling out from the embrace watching the younger man wince. "Sorry. I missed you, my boy."

Andamo smiled broadly. "I missed you too, Jim."

Jim turned his head toward the other man. "You must be Mr. Lucky, Andamo's best friend and partner? I'm James West…"

Lucky nodded. "You're Artemus best friend and partner, I know. I saw a photo of Artemus and you. It's a pleasure to meet you Sir. I would have liked this to be under other circumstances."

Nodding, Jim placed his hand on Artie's shoulder. "Me too. What happened here?" He glanced at the unconscious men lying on the deck, wrists and ankles tied up with rope.

Lucky said, "Gangsters, I mean bandits attacked us, emptied the chest, took Andamo hostage. Artemus got rid of two of them, but the third shot him. It was an act of great courage… "

Nodding too, Andamo added, "Not surprising coming from him."

Pressing Artie's hand in his, Jim said, "The usual then. Ok, t's time to go home, buddy. The requested energy to transport us back to our time is so huge that Loveless Junior's machine is about to explode anytime now. There is no time to lose." He looked at Andamo. The Latino was sad to see them leave. "Don't be sad, Andamo. We'll see each other again. Your friend the god Otepek can grant you another travel in time, in fact any travel you want. Find his statue and come to visit us anytime, Artie and I we'll be delighted to see you again."

Andamo beamed. "That's a wonderful idea! Yes, I will."

Holding Artie's hand in his, Jim hit the red button on the bracelet (Loveless's) then both Artie and he were transformed into a ball of pure energy.

Moving back Lucky and Andamo gasped in stupefaction, eyes going impossibly wide. Then the two 19th century men vanished.

Lucky frowned, embarrassed. 'What am I going to say to Rovacs now?" Seeing Andamo grimace in pain, he added, "First you need to go to the hospital."

Tbc.