THE NIGHT OF THE ICE COLD DEATH
By Andamogirl
WWW
ACT FOUR
Part two
Later
Holding a tray containing a pot of fresh coffee, two cups, a pot of milk, a butter dish and several pots of homemade jams, Artemus entered the parlor suite… and stopped dead in his tracks. The table, the chairs, the sofas and the armchair had been moved along the bulkheads, freeing up space.
He huffed. Jim did this only when he wanted to train in hand to hand combat with him – or boxing, but there was no punching bag hanging from the top of the car.
He placed the tray on the table and was ready to search for Jim when the door opened and his partner appeared, holding two plump pillows in his arms.
Marmalade was following him and AG was, as usual, perched on his owner's shoulder.
The older man frowned, crossing his arms on his chest. "I'm hungry. I want to eat the breakfast I prepared peacefully, I don't want to fight against you," he grumbled.
Placing AG on the sofa, where Marmie joined him, Jim threw a pillow at his best friend who caught it. "Still grumpy, I see. I knew that playing your flute and preparing breakfast wouldn't be enough to help you to release all that pent up tension in you, Artie. You need to be less tense, buddy, and I thought about us fighting… but not with a sword, or a knife, but with pillows."
Raising and arching a surprised eyebrow Artie asked, "A pillow fight? It's a bit childish don't you think? Where the hell did you get that idea?"
Moving in front of his partner, Jim said, "From you. You told me once that when you were a boy, and mad at something or someone, you had pillow fights with your dad, and you felt much better after that, all the tension was gone." And he attacked. He hit Artemus square in the face with his pillow, the air rushing from the other man's lungs in a surprised umphh. Then took a step back, with a wicked grin on his face, waiting for Artie's move, ready to counterattack. "Got you, Artie!"
Grabbing his fluffy weapon, Artemus narrowed his eyes and said with a playful note in his voice, "James my boy, you'll regret starting this war."
It was Artie's turn to attack: he faked a lunge to the left before launching himself right at his best friend… who dodged the blow.
He pivoted in a split second and smacked Jim's back.
Turning around to face his opponent, Jim said, "Only hits to the face count. West 1, Gordon 0," he said before smiling.
Still smiling, Jim lunged at Artemus who immediately ducked as his adversary swung his fluffy weapon wildly, before slamming his own pillow into Jim's face with a loud thwack.
Surprised, Jim stumbled back a bit and Artie said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "Gordon 1! And I'm gonna win."
Pulling back, Jim took a swing toward his best friend.
Artie dodged it at the last moment. "You shouldn't have chosen a pillow fight, pal. I have years of training behind me…"
Jim chuckled. "That was a long time ago. You're rusty, buddy."
The younger swung at Artemus, and Artie held his own pillow up with both hand to block his partner's attack, the pillows connecting with each other.
With a grin, Jim propelled Artie backward toward the couch. Then he smacked the other man hard in the gut and then hit his face.
Both men swung their plush pillows at the same time, hitting each other back and forth, landing blows wherever they could.
It didn't hurt of course.
Frightened, the cats bolted for the other side of the room, sitting under the work table and they stayed there, staring with curiosity at their owners pummeling each other with the pillows - pillows that spewed their contents everywhere on impact.
Laughing, Artemus hit Jim across the head with his pillow with all his might and Jim stumbled sideways. "I'm gonna win, I'm the best!" he said.
Suppressing a curse, Jim lost his footing, and fell over the back of the couch, onto the golden cushions, and then rolled onto the floor gracelessly. Taking advantage of the situation, Artie disarmed Jim of his pillow in a matter of seconds and then brought his own pillow down onto his best friend's head repeatedly, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
But Jim didn't like to lose, so he launched a new offensive: he used an arm to block Artie's hits to his face and while Artemus was busy slamming his head over and over again with his pillow – clouds of new feathers escaping the envelope and flying everywhere – he discreetly snaked his foot around the other man's left ankle, and pulled, hard.
Surprised, Artie let out a gasp and crashed down to the carpeted floor. "Not fair! You cheated!" He exclaimed, upset.
Grinning in victory Jim grabbed his pillow before moving to straddle him. "You didn't say we couldn't do that, buddy." Then he held the pillow over his partner's head and pushed it down over his face. "Do you yield, Major Gordon?"
Shaking his head, Artie wrapped his arms around Jim's torso and he flipped them over so that he was on top of his partner. "No way, Major West."
He grabbed Jim's pillow and raised it, into the air as if it were a sword, ready to strike and it folded down the middle from the lack of stuffing. "Damn!"
Laughing, Jim shoved Artie off of him and Artemus fell backwards laughing too. Both of them had their cheeks flushed and were breathing heavily.
Marmalade moved on top of her owner's chest and started to lick his jawline in a comfort gesture. "I'm fine, Marmie, I'm fine."
In his turn AG the tiny kitten climbed on Jim's chest and started to play with the feathers covering his owner's blue waistcoat.
Smiling, Jim turned his head toward Artemus, grinning. "Feeling better?" he asked, even if he knew the evident answer.
Petting Marmalade, Artie nodded. "Yes, thank you."
Pulling himself into a sitting position, Jim nestled AG against his chest. "I didn't surrender," he said. "Then, you didn't win."
Imitating his best friend, Artie settled Marmalade on his lap. "I'm still fit to fight." His stomach rumbled in hunger. He smiled. "Maybe another time, I'm famished."
WWW
Five days later,
Hillsborough Station, twenty miles from Washington DC
It was raining.
Looking like Harry Grahams, Artie attached the bags containing Loveless's belongings to his saddle and then he mounted Lockpick.
He glanced at Jim mounting his stallion Blackjack and chuckled. He had transformed his partner into a red-headed and bearded man, wearing spectacles. Jim was wearing a dull brown tweed costume and had a bowler had on his head. "You're perfect. No one is going to recognize you."
Scratching his itchy fake-beard Jim said, "The last time you disguised me I ended up wearing a red dress, looking like a woman."
Grabbing the reins, Artie smiled. "Yes, I remember, and you were gorgeous! And it was our first mission together at Petersburg. I remember it very well." He glanced at the Wanderer, immobile beside the train platform. "I would have liked to arrive in Washington by train. Riding in cold rain is not what I prefer."
Hitting his horse's sides, Jim said, "We couldn't. Loveless has spies everywhere in Washington, and the Wanderer is easy to identify. That's why we stopped here. Our arrival has to stay secret if we want to arrest Loveless, Vautrain and their men. And that's why you disguised me… as your cousin from New York, Elmer Stanford, salesman in all kinds of ties…"
Moving his bay horse close to his partner's, Artie said, "It's better than porcelain door handles believe me… I tried that cover once, but it didn't work. Yes, if you are asked, you're my cousin Elmer from New York and we met by accident on the train to Washington. You want a change of life, to become another man, to live dangerously ... I hope Loveless will accept you at my side as a new recruit… Elmer is dull, empty-headed, just like Loveless loves his henchmen. But if we can't meet him together, then I'll have to act all alone. I have my small gun and mini-bombs in my sleeves filled with a powerful and ultra-rapid knock-out gas… it should be enough to neutralize him and everyone else. I'll give you the usual signal if I am in danger and the usual signal if the mission is accomplished." He glanced at Blackjack's passe-partout saddle. "And that neutral saddle goes with the character. He smiled and added, "I know that you regret your shiny saddle, but it wasn't suited to your role and, like our train, it is very recognizable."
Jim nodded. "So is Lockpick. That white patch of hairs on his head is unique…"
Rubbing his gelding's neck with affection, Artemus nodded. "Yes, I know. That's why I used waterproof makeup to make it disappear."
Lockpick huffed and shook his head.
Smiling Jim said, "He doesn't like that."
WWW
Much later,
Golden Spike saloon, Washington DC
Harry Grahams (Artemus Gordon) and Elmer Stanford (James West) entered the saloon together, holding two heavy bags each. They immediately spotted two of Loveless's goons and one of Vautrain's experts in torture sitting at a table sipping a beer and playing cards.
Faux Grahams beckoned to them. Then he headed toward the bar while Stanford stayed beside a table, looking around him, feigning curiosity.
The bartender placed a glass filled with whisky on the counter and, bending down, gave a friendly pat on the other man's shoulder. Welcome back, Harry! You took your time!"
Dropping the bags at his feet Artie nodded and using the same voice as Grahams, he said, "It's a long way from Phoenix!" He swallowed the whiskey in one go and turning toward Jim, he added, "This is my cousin Elmer. He's a salesman but would like to have a more exciting life…"
The bartender looked at Stanford from head to toe and nodded. "Dr. Loveless always needs men at his service, and I could use some help here. Can you vouch for him?"
Nodding, Artie said, "Yes." He tapped his empty glass and the other man refilled it. "I need to give these bags to Dr. Loveless."
The bartender shook his head. "Not now, he has an important meeting with Colonel Vautrain and members of that MEOPG group in the basement… He doesn't want to be disturbed."
Doing his best to hide his excitement, Artie thought: 'Loveless, Vautrain and the MEOPG group… people who want to kill President Grant, what luck!' He nodded. "I understand, but Dr. Loveless left some very important papers in his room. I have them here, with me, in that bag. If he needs them and I do not give it to him, he'll fire me and I don't want to be fired. Please?"
The bartender nodded. "Okay, but your cousin stays here. You know where it is right?"
Smiling Artie nodded. "Sure!" He glanced at Jim and winked at him meaning, let's go! grabbed his two bags and headed toward the back door.
He entered a small room filled with cases of whiskey and bourbon but with no door. He didn't see any hatch either. But there was a large shelf placed against the wall, covered with piles of dusty glasses and lots of empty bottles.
He dropped the bags to the floor.
He smiled. "Certainly hiding a secret passage leading to the basement," he said to himself. "Let's find the opening mechanism…"
He found a button under the lowest board, between two empty bottles of whiskey – and pressed on it. There was a click and the shelf slid to the side.
He verified if the holster strapped to his calf containing his small gun was still in place, if the mini-bombs filled with the knocked out gas were in place in his sleeves, and they were. He glanced at his ring, whose false turquoise contained a very powerful anesthetic and pressing on the side, released a short, thin needle. Then, he went down the stairs leading to the basement.
The shelf moved back into place.
He was intercepted on his arrival at the foot of the stairs by one of the two brutes who had tortured him. His eyes flashed with anger and he tightened his fist.
He was ready to jump at his throat when he remembered his character, Harry Grahams, one of Loveless's henchmen.
He forced himself to smile and to relax. "Hello, I'm Harry…"
The hulky man lowered his gun. "I know who you are. What do you want? They don't want to be disturbed. Come back later."
Feigning interest, Artie said, "What a beautiful gun… it's a 1861 Navy Colt May I see it?" and the goon reached out – placing his gun in Artie's hand. Smiling, Artie used his trick ring to inject a tiny dose of anesthetic in the hulky man's hand, but sufficient to knock out a horse.
Rubbing the back of his hand, Vautrain's henchman said, "Something stung me…" He stumbled backward and collapsed to the floor.
Grabbing the brute's arms, Artie pulled him behind a pile of crates, hiding him there and then he headed toward the back door.
A mini-bomb in his palm, he took a deep breath, knocked at the door and entered… to find himself face to face with a dozen people sitting around a big table. They were all wearing a long black tunic over their clothes, but they were not judges.
He recognized two ex-confederate senior officers – those who had thrown him in the river - a senator who, he knew, wanted the President's seat of POTUS for years, two very wealthy businessmen, and the under-secretary of state. As for the others, he didn't know them.
He looked down at the little man seated close to him, at the end of the table, Voltaire standing beside him, towering over him. "I'm sorry to interrupt you but…"
Raising his hand, frowning, upset, Loveless said, "Later, Grahams. And I hope you have a good reason to be here and interrupt this session of the MEOPG group." Then, he placed a canvas bag on the table and added, "I have very good news, gentlemen. James West and Artemus Gordon are dead. Really dead this time." He pointed at Colonel Vautrain and added, "Colonel Vautrain used his fabulous power – and he really has a fabulous power, believe me – to send the two pesky agents, who have been thorns in my side for years, a long, long, time ago, in the past. They're dead."
Senator Cawfield frowned doubtfully and turned toward Vautrain who looked very proud of himself. "In the past? Do you mean that they have traveled in time?"
Colonel Vautrain nodded. "Yes, I sent them back in time, about 10,000 years in the past. I won't say they're dead, because we can't know if they survived 10,000 years in the past, or not, but they won't come back; I won't bring them back this time. Good riddance!"
Loveless nodded and pulled out a few things from his bag, he showed to the others. "And as proof of what the Colonel has just said, here is… James West's famous gunbelt and his famous rattle snake Colt, and his hat… and ID card from the Secret Service and… this is Artemus Gordon's gunbelt, with his Colt, monogrammed AG on its handle, and his hat…I kept them as a souvenir."
Moving toward the table Artie, with his own voice, said, "I'm really sorry to disappoint you but…" He grabbed his gunbelt and fastened it around his waist in a flash. "But I'm not dead." He moved back then and pointed his Colt at Loveless. "You're under arrest, Loveless, as is everyone here."
Miguelito Loveless recognized Artie's voice and gaped in total and utter surprise and was left speechless, but it didn't last. "Artemus Gordon, no…" the diminutive man croaked.
Smiling, Artie pointed his gun at the ceiling and fired, twice. "Yes, moi." Then before anyone could react he threw the mini-bomb to the floor.
It exploded and instantly, a thick cloud of red smoke filled the room.
Hearing the two gunshots, Jim pulled out his gun from his shoulder hoslter and pointed it toward the four men sitting around the table. "Hands up!" then he gave a loud whistle and about twenty armed policemen invaded the place.
He had rushed to the back room, found the hidden passage in one minute tops and entered the basement room shortly after.
He knelt beside Artie, crumpled beside the big table and took his pulse. He was breathing steadily, sleeping soundly.
Like Loveless, Voltaire, Vautrain and everyone else there.
He grinned. "Great job, Artie."
Tbc.