THE NIGHT OF THE FAKE HAND

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT FOUR

Later at Fort Brown, guests quarters

Completely exhausted, drained, Artemus Gordon dropped his travel bag at the foot of the narrow bed and, still fully clothed, his gun-belt still buckled around his waist he slumped heavily on the granite-like mattress. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Smiling, amused; James West put his travel bag on a chair and said, "You're taking the bed next to the window, I guess?"

He managed to stay awake long enough to remove his gun-belt and his boots. Then he imitated his partner a few seconds later. "'Night Artie."

The two men stayed dead to the world till the next morning.

WWW

It was sunrise.

Opening his eyes, Jim was the first to wake hearing the ringing bugle call signaling the troops to awaken for morning roll call.

He smiled broadly remembering a few good memories of his time in the cavalry during the war – and remembered his meeting with a certain Union spy…

Rolling onto his side, facing Artie, he looked at his partner occupying the bed next to him, lit by the light of the dawning morning streaming through the window of the room. Artemus was lying on his back, spread-eagled on top of the bedspread, his arms dangling over the side of the bed. He was sleeping peacefully. His face was slack, his features relaxed and his mouth was slightly open and…

He smiled at the sound of the light snoring and steady breathing coming from the other man. "Oh yes, you do snore, Artie," he said. And obviously he hadn't heard the reveille.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, yawned and scratched his head. Then he stood stretched and shook the older man's shoulder. "Wake up Artie."

But all he got was a louder snoring.

He took his emerald green jacket off, pulled up the sleeves of his white shirt then poured some cold water in an enameled basin and splashed his face with it. He mopped it with a rough towel then looked at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall above the small table.

He seriously needed a shave, he realized. "Mmm, there's a barber in each fort," he said as he heard his stomach growl, needing to be filled. "I'm famished. Breakfast first."

He pivoted and noticed Artie yawning and shifting on his narrow bed, and as his eyes fluttered open. "Hi Artie! Time to rise and shine buddy, it's 0530 and we have only 30 minutes to eat our breakfast, after that it will be too late." He watched Artemus rolling onto his side, facing the wall, turning his back to him, burying his head in his pillow. "Come on Artie. Let's go to the mess hall." But Artemus didn't move nor let out a sound. "They don't serve breakfast after 0600 you know that and there's no room service."

He only heard a pillow-muffled groan.

He took the pitcher again and padded toward Artemus. Grinning he poured cold water on his best friend's head eliciting a gasp from his partner followed by a curse and a bear-like growl. "There, now you're clean, let's go to the mess hall, I'm famished!"

Sputtering Artie pulled himself into a sitting position, his hair and face dripping. "That's not funny, James. What are you 5? Don't do that ever again," he rasped angrily and then broke into a weak cough.

Frowning Jim asked with a note of concern in his voice, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you buddy."

Rubbing his face Artemus nodded. "I'm fine. A bit wet though." He ran his fingers through his wet curls and heaved a long sigh. "I'm sorry for scolding you Jim, but… I'm a bit tense since I was hanged. I know it's a normal reaction… Plus that mission – and Loveless, plus the fact that I don't know what's going to happen in the Oval Office, boy! All this is getting on my nerves. It's not a good time to cross me," he said.

Reassured Jim smiled. "Duly noted." He grabbed the towel and threw it to his best friend. "Use this Artie, you look like as if someone had poured water on you."

His anger falling off, Artie gave a short laugh, stretching his arms upwards, "Very funny. Good morning, Jim." He toweled his face dry and said, "We are consigned here till the repairs on our train are finished, Jim. What are we going to do?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know, We'll see. Let's start with breakfast."

His own stomach growling it needed food, now, Artie nodded. "That's a good idea." Then he frowned remembering the usual non-appetizing military food. "Or not."

WWW

Later in the mess hall

Revolted Artemus looked down anxiously at the breakfast a soldier serving people in the mess hall had just placed on his tray: there was a plate with oatmeal, so thick and dry it could be used as mortar to build a wall, there were scrambled eggs on the second plate which looked the wrong color, and, in a third one were sitting two carbonized slices of toast and the coffee in his cup was surely strong enough to kill a bull, he mused. "Good Lord!" he mouthed.

He looked at Jim sitting on a bench beside him who was wolfing down his oatmeal hungrily and scrunched his face in disgust. He touched his partner's arm and said, without a sound, "How can you eat that awful, revolting thing? I wouldn't serve this to my worst enemy."

Replying with a smile, Jim then said, "I can eat anything when I'm famished." And then he bit into a slice of burnt toast and added, "Eat your food, Artie. It's not that bad."

Glancing at the door leading to the mess hall kitchen Artie silently mouthed, "I know what I am going to do here instead of dying of boredom. For the next two days, I'm going to teach the 'cuisine basics' to the fort's so-called cook: first lesson, how to prepare decent oatmeal without poisoning people."

Jim gave a short laugh. "That's a good idea. But remember to stay silent, do it using paper and a pen, and your hands."

Holding his cup of coffee Artemus chuckled. "It's not going to be easy." And took a sip – immediately regretting it as it was like swallowing molten lava and it burnt his throat. He grimaced and coughed, covering his mouth while doing it.

Colonel Finley and Major Bowen joined the two agents, taking places on a bench in front of them. "Good morning gentlemen," the both said in chorus. Jim and Artie did the same – Artie mouthing it.

Finley took a sip of coffee, savoring it and curious he asked, "Have the two of you known each other for a long time?"

Jim nodded. "Yes Sir, since the end of the war. I was General Grant's aide de camp when I met Artemus. In fact, the first time I saw him, I shot him and I almost killed him."

Finley and Bowen exchanged a stunned look. Artemus just chuckled and Jim grinned enjoying the two senior officers' reaction.

It happened every time he told that story.

Intrigued the Colonel said, "You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. West."

Placing a hand on his partner's shoulder Jim explained, "Yes Sir. During the war Captain Artemus Gordon was a master spy working under General Grant's direct orders for almost two years when I shot him. I didn't know him at that time. We never met. Like all the officers I heard about a mysterious visitor – a spy - coming at night, several times per week, to see the General, but that was all. General Grant received Artie alone in his tent and Artie was always disguised to avoid possible Confederate spies who had infiltrated the camp from recognizing him, and he usually left before dawn."

Using a knife Artemus carefully started removing the burnt layer of his slice of toast and glared at two soldiers who were sniggering at him.

The shorter one mouthed to Artie, "Sissy!"

They continued to make fun of Artemus, ignoring the agent's black look and anger, mimicking what he was doing with accentuated womanly gestures.

Other soldiers chuckled and Finley's and Bowen's gazes zeroed in on the two soldiers – then looked at the older Secret Service agent – ready to explode.

Seeing that too, and knowing that it wasn't a good time to annoy his 'on edge' best friend, Jim said, "Take cover!" and waited for the explosion.

Artie grabbed Jim's knife and suddenly threw it at the tallest man – and the blade embedded halfway in the wooden wall, just above his head.

Sniggers and chuckles vanished within seconds and everyone in the mess hall froze in surprise and the mocking soldiers then gulped in uneasiness.

Smiling, Jim explained, "Artie is like a grizzly bear before his first cup of coffee. Don't bother him. After that, he becomes human again."

Finley called the two soldiers who had bothered Artemus Gordon to him and said, "You will come to my office after breakfast. The man you made fun of is a federal agent, and has the rank of Major. I'm going to think about a disciplinary sanction. Dismiss!"

The two men paled in worry, saluted and left. The other soldiers who had mocked Artie too lowered their eyes to the ground, trying to shrink away and didn't stick around.

Looking at his partner who was still frowning, upset, Jim said, "And you should see what Artemus can do with a fork and that's not to mention teaspoons…"

Artie burst out laughing, relaxing at the same time. He mouthed, "I play music with them, turning them into a percussion instrument, you turn them into lethal weapons," Then added a piece of sugar to his molasses-like coffee, grinning.

Jim patted his best friend's shoulder in appreciation and then he continued, "It all began after the siege of Petersburg. It was the end of the day and I was part of the General's escort when I saw a confederate soldier suddenly tumble on the way before me. He was holding a gun, and my first reaction was to protect the General riding beside me. I grabbed my gun and fired at him. The General who had just recognized Artie tried to stop me, but unfortunately it was too late." He gulped his coffee, poured himself another one and then added, "I was very surprised to see the General dismount and then take the Gray-clad soldier in his arms. The General called for his surgeon, Dr. Henderson and shortly after, he told me that I had just shot at an Union Captain working undercover to infiltrate the enemy army – a spy - hence the confederate uniform Artie was wearing. His name was Artemus Gordon." He looked at his partner now battling to open a pot of jelly. "I felt very bad. Artie was bleeding from a wound to his torso and it hurt like hell..."

Holding the pot of jelly he had finally opened, Artemus patted his best friend's arm soothingly with his other hand and silently said, "You didn't know that." Then he smiled.

Jim nodded. "Yes, I didn't know that, but I still feel responsible of what happened to you, Artemus. I almost killed you that day."

Colonel Finley was surprised. "You can read lips?"

Jim nodded. "Yes Colonel, and Artie taught me sign language too when we started working together in the Secret Service, it's a silent way to communicate. It's sometimes very useful." He paused and continued, "Dr. Henderson couldn't do anything here, so he gave Artemus a powerful sedative, knocking him out and it was only once at the General's camp that he took care of Artie. Dr. Henderson managed to save Artemus's life, but that was close, too close. General Grant kept Artemus in a bunk under his tent until he felt well enough to rest under his own tent."

Both Finley and Bowen were very surprised again and looked at Artemus who was now determined to spread a layer of almost solid jelly on his now barely edible toast. "President Grant… I mean General Grant must have appreciated you very much for doing that," the CMO said.

Blushing a little with pleasure, Artie nodded.

Jim explained. "You see, Sir, General Grant kind of adopted Artie during the war. He loves him like he is his own son. And Artemus has a son's love for the President." He paused seeing a new stunned look on both the Colonel's and the Major's faces. Then he continued, "Because I felt guilty about what I did and because that man I shot intrigued me a lot, I asked the General if I could spend my free time at his side, and he accepted." He placed his hand on his companion's shoulder again, proudly, and said, "And I discovered an exceptional man. General Grant told me that Artemus was a brilliant actor and master of disguise before the war, a very intelligent man, a scientist with degrees in chemistry and mechanical engineering, always inventing wonderful gadgets he used on his missions… He told me too that Artie was a formidable officer, a great spy, using disguise to infiltrate the enemy forces. Battles were won thanks to the intel he had transmitted, using pigeons – that's why he loves them a lot! - if he couldn't come back behind the Union lines." He smiled broadly and then added, "The next evening, Artemus opened his eyes, looked at me, frowned, and recognizing me he said, "You shot me!" and I said, "Yes, I did but you were wearing the wrong uniform, Captain." He smiled and then added, "Before the war was over we did a mission together – our very first mission. It was during the Petersburg campaign. We failed and were almost killed."

Artie ate the last bit of his toast and took another one, a little less burnt. Then using his knife, he started to scrape the burned layer.

Jim went on, "After the war, I stayed in the Army as General Grant's aide de camp. As for Artie, as he wasn't an active officer during the war but a volunteer he became an actor again, in Chicago. When General Grant became President he invited us to join the Secret Service, we told him that we would accept, on two conditions only: to be partners and work together and to be at his side again, anytime necessary to protect him. The President accepted immediately – of course, as Special Agents of the Treasury Department we have other missions, like investigating all crime under federal jurisdiction, from murder to bank robbery to illegal gambling." He pressed Artie's shoulder in affection. "Since that time we have stayed together – or almost because the President kept him in Washington twice as his personal secretary. But before we became partners, we both worked on solo missions to get accustomed to our new job, and it lasted 6 months. I was traveling in the Wanderer – my private train, comfortably, and Artemus less-comfortably in a small wagon called the 'Gordon's Traveling Emporium' – but he loved that. It reminded him his days on the road when he was still an actor. We got officially partnered together after we captured Juan Manolo and Artie became my roommate on board the Wanderer. We were together again."

Finley smiled. "That's a hell of a story, Mr. West." He looked at Artemus in sincere admiration. "You're a special man, Mr. Gordon."

Eyes twinkling with pleasure, Artemus bowed his head. "Thank you Sir," he mouthed.

Miguelito Loveless holding a tray filled with breakfast took his place beside Jim and pointed at the concrete-like oatmeal in his plate. "Are you sure that thing is edible?" he asked in profound irritation. "Because only pigs could eat that."

For once Artie agreed with Loveless.

WWW

Much later, in the guests quarters

Lying on his bed Jim was relaxing, reading the local newspaper after a hard day – when the door opened and Artemus entered the room, his shoulders all slouched. "Hey Artie! I haven't seen you since this morning. Where have you been?"

The older man took off his bicolor and fringed jacket off, slowly, wincing, folded it on a chair and then he slumped heavily on his narrow bed and yawned widely. "I spent the whole day in the kitchen. I taught the cook simple recipes and then I prepared dinner for all the 250 men of the Fort. I'm completely exhausted. I have no energy left." He tapped his pillow and lay down with a sigh of pleasure, relaxing. "Everything hurts, my arms, my hands, my shoulders, and my back. But at least we'll eat good food for dinner – and for future meals… I hope we will anyway." He yawned again, rubbing his tired eyes. "Otherwise… I will kill the cook."

Smiling Jim turned toward his best friend. "I love good food, that's why you're my private Chef. Artie, I should have known that you were in the fort's kitchen.

Closing his eyes Artie asked, "What did you do to keep you busy?"

Sitting on his bed, Jim responded, "Boxing, hand-to-hand combat, shooting targets and playing chess. I was busy. What about Loveless?"

Stretching cat-like, Artemus replied, "I asked him a few minutes ago, I mean I wrote a message asking how was his day. He told me he had spent the day in the library reading books about battles, military strategies and armaments and then he had discussed medical procedures, surgery, various and varied remedies, etc. with the CMO. He's still with him. They probably are talking about drugs and poisons…" He yawned again longer and rubbed his tired eyes. "Jim, could you wake me just before dinner… because I… I… need… a nap." Then He succumbed to sleep, his head lolling to the side.

Snores.

Jim smiled. "I will Artie. I wouldn't let you miss dinner."

WWW

The next evening, on board the Wanderer

Smiling broadly Jim ran his fingertips over the glass panel of the entrance door. "It's fantastic!," he said, amazed. "It was a good thing I gave photos of the Wanderer to the craftsmen who did all that work, so they can repair and replace everything identically. Good job!" He turned around and looked around him. The parlor car looked like nothing had happened. "We're home again, Artie. The whole train is now ready to depart." He joined his best friend who was sitting at the work table, his finger on the telegraph key, pressing it, sending a message to Colonel Richmond in Washington.

There was a knock at the door and a young Cavalry Lieutenant entered the room. He saluted and said, "I'll be commanding the detachment protecting you until we reach Washington. My men have boarded the train. We can leave anytime."

Jim nodded. "Thank you Lieutenant Moore."

Moore saluted again and said, "I hope we will play further games of chess and I hope I will win." Then he headed toward the opposite door, his men and him having settled into the stable car.

The officer paused mid-way to gently scratch underneath Marmalade's and Aztec's chins both rolled together into one big furball on the table – and two sets of satisfied purrs started immediately. Saying "I love cats" he left the room.

Jim smiled. "I like that young man, he reminds me of me when I was his age. I beat him at chess twice. We'll have time to get to know each other better during the journey to Washington."

The telegraph suddenly rattled and Artemus translated the message, writing it on a piece of paper. Jim looked at it above his best friend's shoulder and read, "Your plan to replace the President during the meeting with the fake Dr. Loveless is approved. We'll take any necessary security procedure once you are at the White house. Signed Colonel Richmond."

Right after that Artemus acknowledged the message then closed the fake-books telegraph box hiding the telegraph key.

Crossing his arms on his chest, Jim asked, "A fake Dr. Loveless?"

Crossing his hands on the leather underhand, Artie cleared his throat and explained, "I have a theory based on the fact that Loveless is very different from the man we both know – for example, he's relatively calm and composed, not commanding and not too disagreeable. And I don't think he has changed – a leopard can't change its spots, you know that. It's like he tries to be another person to charm the President – or rather, is a different person. He's not himself… that's why I think he's a doppelganger."

Sitting on the couch Jim replied, "Now that you're telling me this, Artie, I think you're probably right…I thought about it too."

The older man grinned. "Great minds think alike," he said.

Pleased by the compliment Jim smiled. Then he said, "He created a second me, so he can creates a second him. But this double is not perfect, for example he's helpful, a quality that the true Loveless thinks is a flaw and that he never shows."

Artie nodded. "If that man is not the real Loveless, those attacks were real. And Loveless – I mean the real one – is behind them. He didn't hire those people, but he made sure to attract them by letting the information out, somehow, that he would give away all his fantastic machines to the President in exchange for immunity away, to give even more credibility to his fake self. And, several foreign Secret Service have not resisted the temptation to kidnap Loveless to have his machines."

Jim nodded. "And Loveless – the real one, did that too to annoy us." He started petting AG who had taken his place on his lap. "Loveless built all that set up to be able to send a doppelganger to kill Grant. Killing the President would create a total chaos – from which he would benefit, because everything he does has a goal, to serve his own interests."

Rubbing his chin pensively, Artie said, "True. We can list why the real Loveless wants to kill Grant, he's been telling us for years. Such as he wants to create chaos, confusion and disorder in the country to be able to benefit from it. Like 'seizing' a little defended territory to make his own country out of it, a country he would rule like a king or an Emperor… Or simply because Grant sent him in prison multiple times… and the list goes on and on." He sighed, upset. "Okay. We know that Loveless is not Loveless, but it doesn't tell us how that doppelganger is going to kill the President, and that intrigues me, and worries me. In any case he'll end up dead. Killed on spot in the Oval Office or hanged after being captured and sent for trial."

Shaking his head Jim said, "You shouldn't, because Grant won't meet the fake Loveless, you will…" Then he realized that Artie would be the doppelganger's target. To avoid that, he proposed, "Maybe we should put him in the rolling cell and start questioning him?"

Looking at his cats grooming each other, Artie shook his head and said. "No. He wouldn't tell us anything – except that he's really Miguelito Loveless and that our story is a fairy tale." He took a new sip of coffee. "He would tell us that he will cancel the visit to Washington and the meeting with the President and we would have to let him go. He'd vanish. He knows where Loveless is, and if we want to capture him, we have to let him go ahead with his plan or rather Loveless's plan – then after he tries to kill Grant, I mean me posing as the President, we will arrest him and ask him questions. I'm sure that the President will commute his death sentence to a prison sentence if he tells us where the real Loveless is."

His brow furrowed in worry for his partner who was going to risk his life, Jim asked, "As he won't have any weapon on him… he could carry a bomb inside him like the fake Jim and the fake Artemus Gordon Dr. Faustina created."

Artie shook his head. "No, they were just… zombie-like creatures, incapable of thinking, just able to follow orders. Besides, they were carrying time bombs. It was impossible for Loveless to predict the exact time his double will meet the President. Did you search him when he boarded the train?"

Jim nodded. "I did, and I didn't find anything potentially dangerous neither on him or in his travel bag." He sighed. "I suppose we have to wait and see what happens – and I don't like that. He'll try to kill you thinking that you are the President, Artie."

Smiling reassuringly Artemus said. "I know, but it's going to be okay, Jim, don't worry. I'd be wearing a bullet proof jacket. And you'll be here with Jeremy. You won't let the old Artie be killed, will you?"

WWW

Four days later, in the White House

Ulysses S. Grant (Artemus Gordon) gestured to the chair placed in front of his desk. "Please take a seat Dr. Loveless, we have much to discuss."

Keeping his face neutral, Artie had an inner smile. His voice came back to normal a few hours before the meeting between 'the President' and the fake Loveless. Just in time, he thought.

Fake Loveless sat on the chair and looked up at Jim West and at Artemus Gordon (Jeremy Pike wearing a mask of Artie's face) both standing behind the President, almost at attention. "I thought we would be alone to discuss things, Mr. President," he said, looking upset.

Fake Grant shook his head. "Mr. West and Mr. Gordon are here for my security, Dr. Loveless. They have guns and are ready to use them to protect me. I'm the President of the United States and I have many enemies. People often try to kill me."

Miguelito Loveless smirked. "I know, I tried many times, but I was never so close to you…" He shaped his hand like it was a gun. "If I had a gun… Bang! You're dead!"

Impenetrable Fake Grant ignored Loveless's childish comment and demeanor and nodded. "And you failed each time, thanks to both Mr. West and Mr. Gordon." He opened the silver box sat on his desk and took out a cigar. He bit the tip off, dropped it in an ashtray, put the cigar in his mouth and leaned toward the lit match Jim was holding next to his face. He took two puffs then said, "I'm listening to you, Dr. Loveless."

Faux Loveless nodded. "Alright, Mr. President," he said while positioning his fingers so that his hand looked like a gun, again… and he fired, twice.

BANG! BANG!

Then two small BOOMS resounded.

Hit at point blank square in his chest by two explosive bullets, Artemus Gordon toppled backward, falling from his armchair, losing consciousness under the impact.

Fake Loveless grinned in victory. "Long live the Confederation and General Lee!" He said, before Jeremy Pike leaped on him, tackling him to the carpeted floor a few seconds later.

In a flash Jim knelt beside his best friend and ripped open Artie's black vest and waistcoat and white shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere in the process - revealing the front side of the bullet proof vest his partner was fortunately wearing and found bits of explosive bullets embedded in the thick fabric just above the heart. Without that protection Artemus would have been killed instantly, his heart shredded by the shrapnel, he thought paling a little.

He patted Artie's cheek gently but firmly. "Wake up, Artie!"

Suddenly the door of the Oval Office opened and the real President Grant entered the room framed by two soldiers armed with rifles and followed by Colonel Richmond holding a gun.

Ulysses S. Grant barely glanced at the fake Loveless pinned to the floor by Jeremy Pike and then moved to the unconscious man sprawled on his back behind his Louis XV work table.

His brow furrowed in worry, he asked Jim, "How is he?" while kneeling on the other side of a passed out Artemus Gordon.

Regaining some color Jim smiled reassuringly. "Artemus is alright Mr. President. He's just unconscious due to the impact of the explosive bullets on his bullet proof vest – and on his ribs. He just had the wind knocked out of him and lost consciousness." He saw Artemus open his eyes, moaning, and helped him to move into a sitting position. "Are you okay buddy?"

Grimacing in pain, Artie looked at his partner and said, "Yes, ow! It hurts!" And he touched his chest where it hurt. He then noticed Grant knelt at his side he hurried to add. "I'm perfectly fine, Sir. I'm just going to have a few bruises, that's all," as he didn't want Grant to ground him in Washington D.C. again 'for a long time, a very long time,' he thought.

President Grant nodded and then narrowed his eyes not buying it. "It's good to hear that Artemus, but I remember that you have a rendez-vous with Dr. Henderson at the hospital for a complete medical evaluation. He – and only he will tell me if you really are fine."

Feeling a bit embarrassed Artie nodded. "Yes, Mr. President." Then the three men stood and Artie removed his faux beard.

They moved toward the assassin, now standing on his feet that the two soldiers held firmly – with right hand stretched out.

The right sleeve of his vest and shirt had been pulled up, revealing a very sophisticated fake hand, the tip of his index and middle finger were still opened and a little smoke was coming out from them.

Grant nodded. "A very ingenious weapon," he said impressed. "And the hand looks like a real one. It's absolutely remarkable!"

The fake Loveless realizing that the 'first' Grant was in fact Artemus Gordon disguised as the President, scowled and said, "You got me!" He muttered a curse then, glaring at Artie he said, "He warned me that you could do that, but I thought you were still unable to speak, and I was not suspicious ..."

Smiling proud that his stratagem had worked just fine, Artemus replied, "That's what I was hoping for."

Richmond intervened, "By 'he' you mean Dr. Loveless?"

The diminutive man nodded. "Yes, I work for him. I'm Sergeant Oliver Polk, Army of Tennessee!"

Still pointing his gun at the fake Loveless Jeremy Pike said, "You were working for him and the war is over, Mr. Polk."

Polk shook his head. "It's not for us."

Colonel Richmond asked, "Who are 'us'?" He insisted. "Tell me!"

The fake Loveless spat on the carpet with contempt. "I won't say anything to you about my comrades – not even under torture."

Grant, curious asked, "Where did you lose your hand, Sergeant?"

Raising his chin proudly, Polk responded, "At the battle of Chattanooga, fighting your troops!" He grimaced with resentment. "We lost."

Curious too, the Colonel asked in his turn, "How did you end up working for Dr. Loveless?"

Polk responded, "He put and ad in a Savannah newspaper. He was looking for a particular type of man, small in size with a missing hand, who was a former Confederate soldier who wanted to avenge the South. He then transformed me to look like him, physically but also in his way of moving, expressing himself, and he even managed to transform my voice so that it was identical to his own. It took 6 weeks for the transformation to be complete..."

Moving toward the ex-Confederate soldier Artemus took the other man's false hand in his and observed it closely, from every angle, fascinated. "Fascinating! It's one of Dr. Loveless's best inventions so far," he said. Only he could create such a wonderful articulated prosthesis… that can be used as a gun too." He noticed a small bump on the ring finger housed in a very small hatch. "Ah! And there's the trigger."

Glancing at Polk's fake hand harboring a hidden real gun, Jim said, "It's an example of Loveless"s sick humor, an assassin using a 'false gun – and he mimicked a gun with his hand - which is actually a real one." Then he looked at Grant. "He's the tenth ex-confederate soldier who tried to kill you, in three months Mr. President…" Then he lowered his eyes toward the fake Loveless. "To avenge the South and General Lee, right?." The diminutive man glared at him. "But you failed – and Loveless with you."

The faux Loveless smirked. "It's not over yet, damn Yankees," he said, using his ring finger to press in the center of his hand reaching out toward Artemus. "Long live the Confederation and General Lee!" he repeated before grinning in victory.

There was a short metallic click and the word 'bomb' flashed in Artie's head. Polk had activated a bomb hidden in his fake hand and it was about to blow, he realized.

He reacted in a split second, his breath quickening, his chest tightening. "Get down! Everyone down!" he cried out loud. Then he leaped on Grant, catching the President around the waist and bearing him down to the floor, landing hard on top of him, shielding the other man with his own body in order to take the brunt of the coming explosion.

Polk had just enough time to move closer to Artemus – protecting Grant with his own body – before the bomb exploded.

It was a small bomb as it was lodged in Polk's fake hand, but the blast was powerful enough to throw all the other persons still standing in the room to the ground.

The blast hit Artie at close range and he cried out in pain as flames burnt his skin and bits of metal ripped into his flesh.

His ears hurt too.

But the President, lying on the floor beneath him, was safe, that was the most important thing, he thought as he tightened his jaw and clenched his teeth against the excruciating pain he was feeling.

His ears ringing, feeling blood rolling from his scalp down to his neck and his face, he slowly rolled to one side, feeling nauseated, moving away from Grant who sat up, helped by Pike.

Grimacing in pain he asked the President, "Are you alright Sir?"

He saw the President nod and say something to him but didn't hear a single word and realized that the explosion had rendered him temporarily deaf. His ears were ringing loudly. He couldn't even hear his own voice. It had happened before during the war when he was far too close to cannons, and a number of explosions - he thought.

He added, "I can't hear anything, Sir… I'm temporarily deafened by the blast."

Ulysses S. Grant frowned in concern and repeated, "I'm alright, you saved my life, Artemus, thank you very much," then he rubbed his ears in an attempt to make the buzzing go away.

Moaning, gritting his teeth, Artie curled up on himself as the pain on the back of his body increased making his eyes tear up.

Grant gently pulled Artemus onto his lap in a comforting gesture, hearing muffled cries as the other man buried his face against his chest, to suppress them and hide his tears. He looked up at Richmond ordered, "Artemus needs medical attention. I want Dr. Henderson here as soon as possible! And call Dr. Bennett. I want him here as soon as possible."

His ears buzzing, Richmond nodded and holstered his gun. "Yes Sir!" Then glancing at the two soldiers who framed the shredded, bloodied and charred body of the fake Loveless wrapped in tendrils of smoke, he told them, "Go to the Military Hospital, and bring Dr. Henderson here and also bring the White House resident physician! Tell Dr. Bennett what just happened."

The two soldiers, their ears buzzing too, saluted and left the Oval Office.

Kneeling beside Artie, Jim ignored the buzzing in his ears due to the explosion and surveyed his best friend's body – and saw that the nape of his neck was burnt, but not too badly and noticed that dozens of small shrapnel were embedded in the bullet proof vest he was wearing under his black jacket but his butt and legs were not protected.

He was bleeding from multiple small wounds there, and he had blood trickling down the back of his head and down the side of his face. Bits of metal had scraped his scalp too, he noticed.

He took Artie's hand in his interlacing his fingers with his best friend's. "Hold on Artie, help is on its way. Hold on buddy."

Everything went black, Artemus lost consciousness.

Tbc.