Act 4 ~~~~
Jim knelt by his partner's side and checked for a pulse - good and strong. He patted his cheeks, calling out his name until at last Artie groaned, then sat up.
"Now, Artie, what were you doing lying in the middle of the floor?" Jim asked, adding lightly, "Don't tell me you were kissing Miss Anushche again."
"Miss… Anu…" Artie started and looked all around, then groaned once more. "They got her, Jim!"
"They," said Jim, all business now. "And by that, you mean…?"
Artie nodded. "Lou and Herk." He ran a hand over his face and went on. "Anushche had gone into your stateroom to get dressed, so I came on in here to wait for the message. A few minutes later, I heard her shriek and then she came tearing in from the corridor. Lou was right behind her, and, well… If you ever want to know what it feels like to get shot with that prong gun, I can now fill you in from personal experience: No fun. The last thing I remember before I passed out is Herk coming in as well, and…" He glanced round the room. "Say, Anushche must have put up a pretty good fight, huh?"
"Where do you suppose they've taken her?"
Artie shrugged. "First place I'd check is back at Professor Smiler's house in that little podunk town."
Jim nodded. "I'll tell Orrin, and take care of my horse."
"Right," said Artie. "And I'll tell Washington, and start taking care of this mess."
.
Orrin poured on the steam and got them back to the little town as fast as possible, almost as fast as they'd made the opposite run the night before. Once Jim and Artie had set the parlor to rights, they spent the rest of the journey making plans and, on Artie's part, making his disguise.
And now they had arrived. Artie, blond, extravagantly mustachioed, and engulfed in an Inverness cape, strode alongside Jim as they passed through the rail yard and entered the depot itself. As they hurried across the waiting room toward the front door, a voice suddenly rang out, exclaiming, "Mais ce n'est pas acceptable! Où est notre bagage?"
Artie stopped dead in his tracks, catching Jim by the arm. Together they turned to see the station manager trying to deal with a small foreigner who was waving his arms, too angry to speak in any language but his native French. An exceedingly familiar foreigner. His voice failing him for a second, Artie called out, "Mon… monsieur le docteur Rodin?"
"Oui?" said the little fellow, turning at the sound of his name. A moment later his face brightened. "M West!" he said gleefully. "How good to see you again! And you have a new companion, n'est-ce pas?" He shook hands heartily with both men.
"But, Dr Rodin, how is it you are here?" said West.
He shrugged. "I am checking to ensure les bagages which I was forced to entrust to the care of the station are well kept. Mais bien sûr, they are not, for they have disappeared!"
"Not disappeared," said Artie. "It's all on our train now."
"On your…" Dr Rodin took a closer look at the blond man, his hand reaching automatically for the pince-nez glasses he no longer had. "Euh! My vision is not the best, mais… M Gordon? This is you? You look so different! I did not recognize you."
"Good. But, Dr Rodin, what happened? We, ah…"
"We thought you were dead," said West.
The little doctor nodded. "Oui, c'est très étrange - very strange indeed." And he gave a description very much like Jim's, of having been touched by Zernkje Irenje and knowing nothing, feeling nothing, being nothing, until the sensation of a kiss on the forehead and with it a prodigious influx of pure life. He had come to slowly and then found his way out of that horrible house by means of a broken window to return to his hotel room, greatly confused.
"Et les jeunes dames, where are they?" he asked at last.
"We're on our way to get them right now," said West.
"Yes," added Gordon. "You, ah… didn't want to come along, did you?"
Rodin's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Non, non, messieurs, indeed not! I have, how you say, learned my lesson. I will await quietly in my room à l'hôtel."
"Excellent choice, M le docteur. A bientôt." And the agents moved on.
.
The plan was straightforward enough: Artie in his disguise would go to the front door and cause a disturbance, distracting the household for Jim to let himself in round the back. And after that - well, who knew?
West and Gordon parted ways at the corner of the alley that led around to the rear, and Artie strode on toward the veranda and mounted the steps. The window alongside the door, he noted, had been boarded over and the shards of glass cleared away. Stepping up to the door, he rapped smartly, adjusted his clothing, brushed at his whiskers, and waited.
No one answered. Well, it was a big house. And with Matilda injured, who would be assigned to get the door? Under ordinary circumstances, he would wait patiently a bit longer, but as his job today was to raise a ruckus, he knocked again, louder than the first time, and also cleared his throat and called out stentoriously, "Halloo! I say, halloo therre!"
The door at last opened, but only by a few inches, just enough for half a face to peer out at him. And of all people, it was Matilda answering the door after all! "Yeah?" she said, sounding not at all happy.
Artie harrumphed and put on his best Scottish burr. He had, early on in designing this disguise, considered calling himself Alonso P Farnsworth - yes, considered it for all of five seconds! But the name and persona he had at last settled on was:
"Seamus Alistairr Campbell, dearr lady, of the Edinburgh Times." He doffed his hat politely and went on, "I've come herre to yourr fairr countrry to wrrite a serries of arrticles forr the Times aboot inventorrs in this land of opporrtunity, and one of the names I was given was that of Prrofessorr Angus Smilerr. Och, a fine name, Angus! I should like to interrview the prrofessorr, if I may?"
Matilda stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. "The professor don't wanna be disturbed," she said and began to close the door.
"Oh but Madame!" the stranger insisted, stopping the door with his foot. " 'Tis forr posterrity! My carrd." He produced a calling card and held it out to her. "If I might set up an appointment forr the interrview?"
Again she gave him a long look. He smiled at her genially, hopefully, as he awaited her decision. Had she penetrated his disguise?
"Hmm," she said at last. "Oh, I s'pose so. You can come on in and wait here - right here! - while I go see what Angus has to say about it."
With one hand she took the card from him while with the other she opened the door wide enough to let him in. And Artie had to hide his surprise. Matilda was using both arms! How was that possi…?
Aha. Then Anushche was here. How else to explain Matilda's arm being healed so quickly after suffering such a severe injury only the day before?
The woman pointed at a chair and ordered him, "You sit yerself there. I ain't gonna be long." And she shuffled off in her house slippers down the corridor that led to the lab.
As soon as she was out of sight, Artie sprang up from the seat, reached inside the Inverness cape, and pulled out a little brightly painted device with a key on top. He wound up the key, set the timer, and deposited the device behind the sofa. He took out a second device, got it ready, and placed it under a table, then set a third device behind the curtain of the broken window.
That should be enough for this room. He picked a doorway other than the one Matilda had left by and continued on, one room or hallway after another, leaving a trail of little wind-up mechanisms in his wake, until…
"Herk! Lou!" Matilda's voice called out urgently at some distance. "I let a stranger into this house, and he done disappeared. Find 'im!"
Quickly Artie set the last device and ducked into the next room, where he stripped off his cape to expose the well-used white lab coat he was wearing underneath. He shed his blond wig and whiskers as well, and from a pocket of the lab coat whipped out a gray wig and donned it. He then produced heavy black gloves and protective safety goggles such as Professor Smiler had been wearing the day before.
In a matter of moments, a ringer for the real professor stepped out into a hallway and began roaming through the house, softly muttering to himself the tail end of a countdown: "… two… one…"
ZZZZZOWWW! Every little noise-maker he'd strewn throughout the house went off all at once as he hurried to leave the sounds behind him. Matilda, Lou, and Herk went racing about like so many chickens with their heads cut off, trying to figure out what was happening. Smiler in his lab came to the door and peered out scowlingly, while somewhere in the house… Oh, somewhere, somewhere were the pair of young sisters. But where?
.
Jim was ready when the ruckus commenced, and in moments he had the back door open and was up the stairs heading for the amphitheater. He slipped through that door and into the shadows at the top of the stands, then listened. The noises from Artie's little toys were winding down already; much closer than that, Jim could hear Angus Smiler soliloquizing again: "Interruptions! Always interruptions! First that ridiculous reporter and now thi… Ridiculous reporter! Drat and blast, of course! He's not a reporter; he's one of those bothersome busybodies from yesterday! Mat…!"
But he didn't finish calling out his sister's name. A hand slipped over his mouth just then, a second hand finding a certain point along the professor's throat and applying quiet pressure.
Smiler slumped, unconscious, and James West lugged him up into a dark corner of the stands where he handcuffed the scientist to something suitably large and heavy.
One down. West hurried to the group of lab tables and confiscated the prong gun, then went back upstairs, leaving the lower level for Artie to search.
For a few moments after Mr West had gone, the lab was silent and still. And then from the shadows a figure stirred. "Hmm!" said a purring feminine voice. "So he is restored! My sister's doing, no doubt. Well, I will simply have to see to him all over again. But first…"
And the shadowy figure crossed to another part of the amphitheater, to the place where a white-coated old man lay sprawled and oblivious, helplessly manacled to an immovable piece of equipment.
.
Why is it, Artie was wondering, that the lairs of evil villains tend to resemble warrens? or dungeons? He could imagine turning this into a game - wandering through hallway after hallway, checking room after room, looking for (as he was) confined captives, or perhaps - oh - treasure? Or useful items, such as weapons. For just a moment his creative genius threatened to carry him away.
If only it were just a game. If only real lives weren't at stake. Artie hurried on, door to door and hallway to hallway, searching fruitlessly for the sisters.
"Hey, Professor!"
For a second Artie nearly forgot that he was the professor now. Recovering quickly, he turned, tilted his chin up, and said in his best imitation of Smiler's imperious tones, "What do you want?"
Ah, it was Lou! Artie opened his mouth, his mind racing to phrase a question about the girls that would gain him information about their whereabouts without tipped Lou off that he wasn't Smiler after all. But before he could speak up, Lou started talking: "Oh, um, sorry to disturb you, Professor. We ain't found the guy yet. He scattered a whole bunch of these things all over the place." Lou held out one of the wind-up devices.
"Ah. Hmm," said the fake professor, accepting the little toy from Lou's hand. "Curious item," Artie went on. "It seems to… why, look at this!"
"Huh? What?"
"This here! Do you see? There seems to be a button here." Artie showed the device to Lou, putting it up close to the man's face, then pressed the button.
FWHOOSH! Magenta smoke erupted from the device, enveloping Lou's head. Artie held the item out at arm's length, then dropped it, using his handkerchief to cover his own mouth and nose while poor old Lou crumpled to the floor. Artie waited a bit for the smoke to diffuse, then quipped, "Well, it's not Tolstoy, but close enough." He pulled out some manacles to cuff Lou's hands behind his back. "There!" he said. "Now we won't have you shoving into the middle of things the way you did yesterday. Pity I didn't get a chance to ask you about the girls, though." Artie opened the nearest door and rolled the fellow out of sight. Then, satisfied, he closed the door and left Lou to his slumbers as he continued on searching for the Ambassador's daughters.
If he had only known! Furtive as a cat, one of the sisters crept after him, pausing long enough to open the door Artie had just closed to step inside and give Lou one last kiss.
.
Matilda stormed into the lab in a fury, house slippers slapping angrily against the floor. "Angus!" she groused. "That durn foreigner's still runnin' loose somewhere inside this house! He cain't've gone back outside, 'cause I locked 'im in when I let 'im in, but he… Angus?" She paused, listening to the silence. "Angus, where'd you go?" She listened again. Nothing. Her shoulders dropped in consternation. "Where in the Sam Hill…?" she muttered. "Cain't never see nothin' in this big ol' barn of a room!" She crossed to one of the lab tables and rummaged for a bit. "Ah!"
Taking up the oddly-built lantern she'd found, she lit it from one of the lab burners, then snapped the lid shut. The specially ground lens of the lantern's face combined with the multitude of precisely angled mirrors within it to blast a powerful focused beam of light out the front. Matilda played the light all over the room: behind the tables, up and down each stairway, all along the amphitheater stands…
"Angus!" She almost dropped the lantern when she saw him. He was huddled up, his hands manacled, his face pale and still. Matilda kicked off the house slippers and charged puffing up the stairs to reach him.
Cold. He was cold already. Gently she set the lantern down on the closest seat and cradled her daft baby brother close. "Oh, Angus…"
And then she had a thought. "If that girl could fix my arm the way she did jes' by holdin' my hand, maybe… maybe she can do something fer Angus too." Swiftly she checked the dead man's pockets, coming up with a key. "This's gotta be where he put 'er, 'cause he took this key offa my ring 'fore he went an' locked 'er up." She clambered back to her feet and hurried from the room, muttering to herself, "I jes' hope I ain't too late."
.
The trembling of the floor was the giveaway that Herk was coming. West checked to be sure the prong gun was fully wound up and ready to fire, then aimed it down the hall toward the corner that the localized earthquake was coming from and waited.
The behemoth appeared from round the corner, his eyes lighting up when he spotted the agent. "Dere you are, little man! You know what I'm gonna do wit' you? Time I get done wit' you, dere ain't gonna be enough o' you left to fill up yer shoe!"
"Where are the girls, Herk?" said West calmly.
"I'll use yer legs fer toot'picks," Herk boasted, tramping slowly up the hall, "an' yer head fer a hat rack…"
"Where are the two young ladies you helped kidnap, Herk?" asked West.
But the giant only continued with his recitation of just what he would do with the several severed parts of James West, his eyes glittering, his massive hands reaching. Herk licked his lips. "I'm gonna enjoy dis!" he promised.
"Irenje and Anushche, Herk. Where are they?"
Herk grinned broadly. "Yeah, I'm gonna enjoy every second…"
There was a subtle shift in Herk's center of gravity; he was about to charge.
West pulled the trigger.
The giant's eyes widened as the prong sailed toward him. He tried to change directions and dodge to the side, but his own bulk worked against him.
BRZAP! The prong caught him off-center in the chest, and down went Herk, flailing uncontrollably.
West waited till the big man was still, then wound up the gun again, shaking his head. "You couldn't just answer a simple question, now could you, Herk?" The agent cuffed the giant where he lay, knowing it would no doubt immobilize Herk for all of two seconds once he woke up. Then West continued on with his search.
.
Matilda reached the room this key was for and paused to listen at the door. She smiled; the voice inside was young, feminine, and angry, muttering along in a rich blend of English and some other language - five other languages, in fact, if the older woman had only known.
Matilda inserted the key into the lock, and the voice inside ceased. "I'm lettin' you out," the old woman called loudly. "That dang sister o' yers done somethin' to my brother, an' I need you to… Oof!"
As soon as the tumblers clicked over, the knob had turned from within, the door wrenching away from Matilda, pulling her off balance. And then the door slammed forward again and smacked into Matilda's head, knocking her down if not out. Anushche emerged and whispered a Pterovnian apology to the fallen woman. Then, getting her bearings, the girl ran off down the corridor in hot pursuit of an exit.
.
Artie, searching along yet another hallway in this endless building, heard a voice from very nearby saying, "I'm lettin' you out. That dang sister o' yers done somethin' to my brother, an' I need…" Aha, he thought, Matilda! And from the sound of it, she was talking to…
"Now I'm getting somewhere!" Artie told himself and hurried toward the sound of the voice. He jogged round the corner, looked around and, to his great surprise, saw no one at all at first. Where…?
Ah! A groan caught his attention. Matilda was crawling out of an open doorway, one hand on her head as she gradually sat herself up.
"Matilda!" Gordon rushed to the aid of the injured woman, checking her wound - negligible - and helping her to her feet. "What happened?" he said. "And where is Anushche?"
"Oh Angus!" cried Matilda, "I tole you it was a bad idea to fetch in them strange girls! Now one of 'em's done clobbered me, an' the other's killed…" She stared at him now, her eyes wide. "Why… killed you! You ain't Angus. Who are you?"
"Angus is dead? Where?"
"In his lab. I was gonna have the other one touch 'im back alive, but she done run off on me. Who are you?"
"Seamus Alistairr Campbell, of courrse, dearr lady. At yourr serrvice."
"You! You danged foreigner! We been turnin' this house upside-down lookin' fer you! Lou! Herk!"
"That's quite enough, Matilda," Artie responded, whipping his handkerchief over her mouth and tying it firmly. A moment later he had her cuffed, then led her into the room and settled her comfortably in the chair within. "And, by the way, Matilda, you're under arrest." He smiled at her, gave her a friendly salute, then closed her in, turning the key that Matilda herself had left in the lock.
"Well," Artie reflected, "Anushche was here just a few minutes ago. And she didn't come in my direction, so she must have gone this way instead." And he set off in hopes of finding his katjenje shortly.
.
This time the localized earthquake overtook James West before he had time to prepare. He pivoted, bringing the prong gun up to aim it.
Herk's huge hand lashed out and sent the weapon spinning down the hall. His other hand grasped for West's throat, and the agent just barely managed to twist away in time.
And so began again West's deadly dance of backing down a hallway keeping out of Herk's reach. A quick glance behind him gave Jim the layout of the corridor: three rooms on one side, four on the other, all doors closed; a corner off to the left on the side with the three doors; and there at the end of the hall, just below the window, there lay the prong gun where it had come to rest at the end of a decorative rug.
"Where are the girls, Herk?" asked West.
"What diff'rence dat gonna make to you, little man? You gonna be dead!" Herk spread his arms and lunged for West, and received a chop to the neck for his trouble.
"Is Anushche locked up? Where is she?"
"Fee fie foe fum," intoned Herk, slowly advancing on West.
"And Irenje. Is she roaming free as she was before?"
"I smell da blood of a…" Herk paused, considering. This man wasn't English! And then he grinned. "…da blood of a little man!"
West dodged another lunge, darted in and boxed Herk's ears, then leapt back once more.
"Be he alive or be he dead - and you gonna be dead in a minute, little man!"
"Herk," said West, "just tell me where the girls are."
"I'll grind his bones to make my… Hey!"
For West had suddenly turned and sprinted down the hall, racing for the prong gun tucked up against the wall below the window. Herk pounded after him as fast as he could go, hands outstretched to engulf the smaller man, to crush him.
At the last moment, instead of stooping for the gun, West kicked it sideways down the connecting hallway, then ran round the corner to pick it up. Herk tried to turn as well to follow the agent.
But his feet skidded on the loose rug. Herk gaped, flailing, trying to stop as his momentum carried him into and on through the upper-story window. Glittering slivers of glass surrounded him like a cloud, floating down around him to meet the up-rushing terrain.
With a massive THUD Herk measured his length on the ground. And yet, after only a few seconds, his hands moved, bracing themselves under him. He pushed, levering himself up, only to collapse once more flat on his face and lay still.
West stood looking down through the hole in the wall that had once been the window and shook his head. "And you still couldn't just answer that simple question for me, could you?"
A scream interrupted him, a terrified "No!" that abruptly cut off dead. It had come from… yes, from downstairs. Instantly James took off running to find the nearest staircase.
.
As Jim rounded the corner from one direction, Artie came tearing up the corridor from the other. They met before an open door. "I left this door locked!" Artie exclaimed as the pair of them entered.
It was not a pretty sight. Matilda, eyes staring, was on the floor beside the chair, her arms still cuffed behind her, the handkerchief pulled down around her neck, and on her cheek, as if smirking at them…
"A kiss print," said Jim.
Artie nodded. "Irenje. She got Smiler too. Matilda told me she found him in his lab, dead. She came here to fetch Anushche to restore him, but the girl got away from her."
"So we have both twins running loose in the house."
"Right, Jim."
"Let's go find them then." West headed out to the corridor. "I'll take this direction."
Artie nodded. "Just be careful, James my boy. Irenje is vicious. And I don't want to have to break in a new partner, you know."
"Neither do I, Artie, neither do I." Jim brandished the prong gun and the pair split up.
.
Letting slip a naughty word in Pterovnian that she wasn't supposed to know, Anushche stared at a door that should open to the outside but wouldn't, rattled the knob once more fruitlessly, then gave the door a petulant kick. Ow!
"Is there no door in this perishing house that will let me out?" she protested. Choosing a new direction, she continued on seeking a door to freedom.
.
There was no point, Jim reasoned, in going back upstairs. Irenje had obviously been busy down here, and Anushche, no doubt, was trying to escape this house, and why would she go upstairs to do that? Prong gun in hand, West listened carefully as he rapidly searched the halls, ignoring the rooms for now. Somewhere…
He paused, his ears picking up the sound of footfalls. High heels, therefore a woman. He hurried to the corner and peered round it.
Yes! There was one of the twins. But which one? Aiming the prong gun, West stepped into the hallway and ordered her, "Stop right there!"
.
Artie found himself in the corridor from which he had originally rescued Anushche. Yes, this was the room, the lock still unrepaired and useless. He moved on, cautiously rounded the corner and headed down the long corridor with the outside door midway along its length, trying the door in passing. It was locked. He kept going.
Now he arrived at the other corner, entered that hall, and looked around. No one. Hmm.
Artie paused for a bit in the middle of the hallway, giving this some thought, his forefinger tapping against his nose. Where to now? Up the stairs? Into the room to the right where Matilda had herded them the day before? Or maybe…
Wait - there was a sound! Artie sprang toward the study and shoved the door open. There, across the room, beyond the desk, there stood one of the twins. But which one? Pointing his black-gloved hand at her, Gordon ordered her, "Stay right where you are!"
.
The girl Jim was covering with the prong gun swung to face him. She stared for a moment, then exclaimed with a beatific grin, "James!"
"Don't move," he commanded.
"But, but, James! Do you not know me? It is I, Anushche!"
The gun in West's hand never wavered. "If you really are Anushche, show me your neck under your right ear!"
.
The girl in the study stared at the man confronting her. "Professor Smiler?" she said at last, sounding dubious.
Artemus yanked off the gray wig and the goggles.
"Oh, it is you!" the girl exclaimed. "How capital!" and she clapped her ungloved hands. "Come!" she said. "Take me away out of this house at once!" And she started around the desk toward him.
"Hold it right there!" Gordon commanded.
"But, but it is I, Anushche." She looked up at him with large and innocent eyes.
"Not another step," said Gordon. "Not until you show me that there's no birthmark on your neck under your right ear."
.
The twin in front of James tilted her head to let him see.
.
The twin in front of Artie slammed her hand over the side of her neck and, with a snarl, launched herself at him.
.
"You believe me now, James?" said this twin.
West nodded and put away the prong gun. "Yes, Anushche. I believe you."
"Capital!" said she. "And now you will take me away from here?"
"Not just yet," said Jim. "First I need you to undo a few things your sister has been up to." And he led her back to the room where he'd last seen Matilda.
.
Artie grabbed Irenje's wrists as she sprang at him, glad that his disguise as Professor Smiler had included the thick heavy gloves. Irenje fought him like a wildcat: hissing, spitting, kicking, attempting to bite. Artie, without releasing his grip, spun her around while bringing his hands up and over her head, then down again so that he ended up with the hellion wrapped up in his arms with her back against his chest. "There!" he said. "Now just calm down, Zernkje, and come along quietly. It's all over now and… Ow!"
She had stamped her high-heeled foot down hard on his instep, breaking both his concentration and his grip. She whirled on him, one hand sweeping out to slap his cheek. He just barely got his own hand up to block the blow, then beat a hasty tactical retreat, quickly getting the desk between the two of them.
"Now now, Zernkje Irenje! You don't really want to kill me!" said Artie.
She glowered at him with eyes like fire. "Tuvnjeko!" she snapped. "How dare you presume to tell me what I do or do not want!"
"All right, change of pronoun then: I don't really want you to kill me. I'm rather fond of breathing," he added with a disarming lop-sided grin. "Call it a habit, but it's one I'd prefer not to give up."
She scoffed.
"Well, why would you want to kill me? Why would you want to kill anybody?"
She leaned toward him, her eyes blazing. "Fool! Have you no eyes? Do you not see? All my life I have longed for power and had none. But now, now, I have power!"
"You are Zernkje Irenje Zelnurmofje, heir of a noble family in Pterovnia, godchild to the King. You have no power?"
Again she scoffed. "What, do you imagine my father has power, and that as his heir I will wield the power that once was his? He is but a servant to power; he has none of his own! I have no interest in the sort of life he leads, that he thinks to pass on to me. That is not power! But this!" She swiped her hand at Gordon, causing him to flinch back. "This is power in its rawest form. I need only touch what is living, and no longer is it living. The power of a king and all his armies, his judges and executioners, all embodied in me!" Her eyes, her whole face and being were lit up with the exultation of what she could do.
And then she scowled. "But you! You, and your partner, as well as that idiot professor and all his people, you know what I can do, and you would stop me. The professor - I overheard him! Now that I have taken his revenge for him on those three fools, the ones I kissed last night, he was plotting to take the power away again, to return me to my former state. That I will not permit. And so…" She smiled her feral smile now, her voice becoming the purr of a contented feline. "I kissed the professor, and his sister, and the small one Lou. I have a kiss reserved for the giant as well, but have not found him to bestow it as yet. And along with them, you. And your partner. You wish to stand in my way, to stop me; you will not."
"And your sister?" Artemus asked softly, already knowing the answer.
"She above all I hate! She, with her doe's eyes and her simpering ways. She whom the fools of men fawn over. She whom our father and mother adore, whom Dr Rodin adored. And you adore her too, more the fool you. She above all I would kiss and destroy. But over her my power has no effect!"
She glanced at the agent across the desk from her, the purr returning to her voice. "But that is no matter. Some other way. A dash of one of the professor's chemicals added to her food, or a little push at the top of the stairs. And I will be rid of her as well, and will go forth conquering and to conquer."
Artie's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, is that who you imagine yourself to be, the rider on the white horse? Wouldn't the pale horse be more apropos?"
Her eyes narrowed and she took another swipe at him which he dodged. And looking at her, he shook his head regretfully. "Poor Irenje. You just don't understand, do you?"
"Do not pity me!" she growled at him savagely.
"But what else is there to feel toward you? You think in dealing out death, you have the ultimate power. But…" And now he quoted, his voice flowing as if on the stage:
" '… love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave…
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it…' "
Irenje glowered. "Whatever are you babbling about?"
"It isn't your sister's doe's eyes that cause her to be adored. You have the same looks as she: eyes and face and form and figure. It's what is inside her that others adore. Her heart. She has a loving heart, and you hate. It's no wonder that what Smiler did to you two worked out this way. Hate kills, but love gives life. That's why, after you had kissed Dr Rodin to death, Anushche knelt over him and kissed his forehead…" His voice dropped dramatically. "…and she restored him to life."
"What?" Irenje objected vehemently. "Njede! No! That is not possible!"
"I spoke to the man myself this morning. You killed him, but she brought him back."
"I…" Irenje's eyes darted round the room. "I must stop her now. She will ruin everything! She must die immediately!" Suddenly her attention focused on the man before her once again. "But first, you!" And she came right over the top of the desk at him.
Artie batted her away with his gloved hands, trying to catch hold of her wrists as before. The woman was an untamed savage, flying at him again and again, making every effort to lay a hand, a finger on him. He fought back, knowing that if once she touched him skin-to-skin, he was dead. Literally.
The room was gradually reduced to a shambles around them, the globe going over with a crash, and later, the grandfather clock as well. And still she kept coming after him, relentlessly, furiously, demoniacally. He had a small derringer hidden on him, but he didn't want to shoot her, as that action might well cause an international incident all on its own. He also had one of his ubiquitous smoke bombs; the thought of knocking her out with it held tremendous appeal, but she just wasn't giving him any breathing space to have time to pull it out and throw it.
And now she had him pinned against the desk, her hands everywhere, his countering them. He had no time to reach for anything to employ as a weapon against her; to do so would leave her an opening for one of her hands to dart in and touch him, paralyzing him as she had Jim, allowing her to then gloat over him at her leisure before administering the coup de grâce of the kiss of oblivion.
Abruptly, with an even louder crash, the desk went over. Artie's head landed hard, stars springing up before his eyes. And in that fateful moment - everything froze.
Was his heart even beating? his lungs filling? He had no awareness of either. His body was numb. He had, contrariwise, perfect awareness of her. Irenje had landed on top of him and was now gazing down into his face, gleeful, joyful. Triumphant.
"Well! At last! You put up quite a fight. I'm frightfully winded. Perhaps I shall just sit in a chair for a bit to catch my breath. Wouldn't you care to do the same? No?" She laughed merrily. "No of course not; you have no breath! You are my toy now, to play with if I want, to break if I want. And rest assured, once I tire of speaking to this inert lump that is you, I shall break you. Perhaps now?" Her hand wandered toward his face, her fingers curving as if she would caress his cheek. She held that pose a long moment, then laughed and withdrew the hand. Next the fingers of her other hand loitered over his hair, lifting the stray curl that had been jarred forward across his forehead when he hit the floor. Again she laughed, then rose to her feet and slinked to a chair, righted it, and sank into the cushions.
"And now," she proclaimed, "it is I who pity you. Do you enjoy the feeling, the wretchedness of being the object of the pity of others? To have others look at you, with their eyes so, with the clucking of the tongue so." She demonstrated the look and action, then threw her head back with laughter once more.
And she's jealous that people prefer Anushche, thought Artie, his mind being the only part of him that was still fully functional. I can't even blink. How can I hinder her once she tires of celebrating her victory over me with mockery?
The laughter stopped. Irenje looked at him, sighed. "Well, it was fun while it lasted," said she. She rose from the chair, sauntered back to Artie's side, and stood over him for a long time. Then she chuckled and said, "I do hope droshche Anushche is the one who finds you! Perhaps I shall lead her here, as I did to show her Dr Rodin. But this time, of course, I must kill her before she can bring you back. In fact… Yes! I like that! I shall lure her here to the study, show her you paralyzed and waiting for the death stroke. Then I shall kill her and afterwards you as well. Ah, and that partner of yours also." She chuckled. "Do wait right there," she said, then added. "As if you have any choice!"
Irenje turned toward the door to carry out her plan. Her hand was nearly on the handle when the door sprang open on its own. Two people were in the doorway: Irenje's beloved sister, and Artie's beloved partner.
"Artie!" cried the one and, "Djenko!" the other.
The next moment a cat fight exploded as Irenje attacked Anushche. In moments the twins were grappling together, Irenje's hands going after Anushche's throat, and Anushche doing all she could to defend herself, their struggles adding to the shambles that the previous fight had caused.
Jim ran to his partner and checked for his pulse. It was just barely there. "Hang in there, Artie," said Jim briskly. He looked over at the girls scuffling together. There was no point in trying to shoot Irenje with the prong gun as long as she was in contact with her sister; the electrical shock would no doubt harm them both. But he needed the life-giving twin over here to touch his partner back from this paralysis. So West called out, "Anushche! Artemus needs you."
Both girls paused and glanced at him, then one smacked the other hard across the face and rushed over. She was about to fling herself down at Artie's side when Jim suddenly aimed the prong gun at her.
"What?" she cried.
"Show me the ear," he responded.
"Ah!" She pulled her hair back - no birthmark. Jim nodded and was just making room for her when SMACK! Irenje landed on top of her sister, knocking her over. Smirking proudly, Irenje leaned over the supine Mr Gordon and resoundingly kissed him on the cheek.
For Artemus Gordon, the lights went out.
.
And then, Artie had no idea how long later, they came back on again. Anushche's hand was on his, the heavy glove gone, the familiar sensation of drowning ecstatically at the foot of a waterfall engulfing him, smashing into his brain, taking the top of his head off.
Suddenly his other glove was gone as well and another hand gripped his. The power flooding in from Anushche diverted now, slamming across him, in and down his left arm, crossing his chest, then up and out through the right. "Jim…" Artie croaked. This was unbearable! Not so much like being the rope in a Tug-of-War as being the wire in an electrical circuit. And the current was overloading…
I'm going to die, thought Artie.
A voice roared at him from somewhere far far away: Jim's voice. "Artie! Let go of Irenje's hand!"
"C… c… can't…" Artie managed. He was being torn apart. His heart would explode. He blinked, trying at least to see, to focus on his best friend's face one last time before the end.
For Jim, it was the same problem once more. Irenje was in contact with Artie, and for that reason he couldn't use the prong gun. And he couldn't touch the woman without winding up in the same condition as his partner…
Hmm… He couldn't touch her with his bare skin, no. But his feet weren't bare, were they?
Artie was sure now that the end was near, creeping up on him. And he couldn't see Jim. The phrase "flights of angels" floated across his fading consciousness.
There was a blur from Artie's left, in the color of Jim's clothing. And suddenly the hand was gone from Artie's right. There was only the power surging in from Anushche now, healing him, relieving the pain…
Irenje cursed heartily at Mr West. "How dare you kick me, you horrible man!" The air was blistered with Pterovnian expletives as Irenje gathered herself, intent on launching herself at that other interfering agent.
"I wouldn't," said West. Irenje snarled at him in contempt, seeing only too late the prong gun in his hand, aimed at her heart.
Jim fired.
.
Gradually Artie sat up and looked about him. Anushche was hovering at his side, no longer touching him, only peering into his face anxiously. He caught her eye and gave her a wink, eliciting a wide and relieved smile. She turned to Jim and said, "I think Artemus is - what is it you say? Oh-queue?"
"Ok."
"Ah, yes! Artemus is ok now, I believe."
Artie was taking in the scene, reconstructing in his head what must have happened. "Jim. You shot Irenje with the prong gun."
"Mm-hmm." Jim was roaming the room picking up the heavy gloves from where the two girls had flung them. He then pulled them on, flexing his fingers.
"Thanks, Jim," said Artie.
Jim grinned and gave a shrug. "It was my pleasure, old pal."
Artie turned now to Anushche. "And you. You brought me back. Kedurshte dje, droshinje."
She too smiled modestly. "It was my pleasure as well, droshtafko. Can you - are you able to stand now?"
Artie considered how his body felt after all that abuse. "Let's give it a shot."
She took his arm, careful to touch him only through his sleeve, and helped him upright. He stood a moment, taking internal inventory. No dizziness. The memory of pain was there, and of paralysis. But his body felt…
"Just like new!"
"Oh, capital!"
"Well, Jim," said Artie. "Now what?"
"Now, we finish this." Jim lifted the still unconscious Irenje and flipped her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then led the way to the door he and Anushche had entered through. "We were just taking a revived Matilda to the lab for Anushche to take care of Smiler as well when we heard the commotion down here. Matilda should be there; she's still cuffed. Once Anushche gets the professor on his feet again… What?"
For Artie had clicked his fingers. "Lou! He needs to be brought back too. Come on, katjenje. Jim, we'll meet you in the lab."
"Right, Artie."
.
It was a somber group who were gathered in the lab. Matilda and Lou, both of them handcuffed, were glaring daggers at the unconscious Irenje where she sat slumped and strapped into one side of the illuminated machine of the chairs. While Artie kept guard over those prisoners, Jim led Anushche up into the stands to the side of the deceased Professor Smiler. The girl took a seat while Jim removed the cuffs that anchored the dead man in place. Once that was done, she put out her hand toward Smiler, then hesitated. "He has caused a great deal of grief to a great number of people," she said softly.
"True," Jim replied. "But now he is going to undo some of that grief. At least for you." He nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead and touch him."
"Dasda, Djenko."
He gave a brief chuckle and shook his head. "Just 'Jim' is fine."
"Yes, James." Anushche drew a deep breath and stretched out her hand.
It was a classic delayed reaction. After a few seconds of no response, Smiler's eyelids abruptly slammed open. He stared wide eyed at the deep darkness of the ceiling directly over his head as a range of expressions paraded over his face. Finally his eyes slid to the side, taking in first James West leaning over him, and at his side, the girl as well.
"Gaahhh!" Smiler screeched and clutched at West's arm. "Keep her away from me, man! Don't let her touch me! She… she'll kill me!"
"Not this one," West replied and pointed at the chair machine. "That's the one who wanted you dead. And she accomplished it too. This one, your 'insurance,' just brought you back."
Smiler was silent again for a long moment, taking all that in. "You…" He looked at the twin beside him with awestruck curiosity. "You did? You resurrected me?"
She nodded.
His face became crafty. "Why?"
"Because I told her to," said Jim. "Now…" and he caught Smiler by the arm and hauled him vertical. "…we are going to put both twins into the chairs, and you are going to show my partner how to reverse the process and give this young lady her life back." West paused, then added, "Consider it an expression of gratitude to her for not leaving you dead."
"I… That is… The other one - she can't get at me?"
"She's not even conscious. And she's well strapped in."
"Ah!" said Smiler briskly, beginning to sound like his usual arrogant self. "Well, to start with, if the plan is to restore the young ladies to their original states, that one is in the wrong seat. She'll have to be moved."
Jim made a sweeping gesture. "Be my guest."
"Me!" the old scientist squeaked. "Surely... surely you don't really expect…"
"I'll do it," Artie called up. He donned the heavy gloves and quickly got Irenje into the other seat and strapped in securely once more.
"Very well," said Smiler, not drawing near the machine until Artie was done. "And now the other young lady…"
Artie offered his gloved hand to Anushche and settled her into the seat. "Comfy?" he asked teasingly.
"You are sure this will work?" she asked nervously. "I will be again what I was before? And Irenje as well? We will be… normal?"
"As normal as you ever were," he replied, kneeling in front of her to buckle the straps around her ankles. He looked up then, meeting her eyes. Drawing off one of the gloves, he touched her cheek very lightly, steeling himself not to jump at the influx from the contact. "I'm your djenko, isn't that so? Would I encourage you to do anything I knew would harm you?"
"Njede, Artemus. But… what if you only think it is safe, and it is not?"
"It's safe," he replied. And as he got to his feet, he gave her a brief kiss on the top of her head, then turned to Smiler. "Now what?"
"The helmets."
Jim helped with this, each man settling a heavily wired circlet onto one of the girls' heads. They then stepped well back. Anushche looked so very anxious, her large eyes - by Jove, they were doe-like! - straying from Artie's face to Jim's and back again.
Smiler donned his thick goggles and heavy gloves now and took his place at the control panel. "Clear!" he cried. "That is to say," he added, "no one touch them while the machine is running."
"Yes, Professor Smiler," said Jim. "I think we understood that."
"Ah. Well, then…" And he threw the switch.
The hum of electricity was low at first, but rose steadily in volume as well as pitch until it was ear-splitting in both attributes. Everyone was wincing, and those who were able to covered their ears with their hands. The two agents watched over the girls carefully, observing the look of anguish on Anushche's face. A pang of worry constricted Artie's gut; he had been sure this was safe when he strapped the droshinje in, but now he wasn't so sure. As for Irenje…
Suddenly through the whine of the machinery came another sound as the elder twin came to and realized where she was. Her shriek of "No!" was one of pure anguish. At her side, Anushche struggled to loosen her hand in the restraint enough to be able to reach her sister's hand and hold it, but the straps were too tight for that. Instead, she called out, "Irenje! I am right here!"
"Oh, who cares if you are, you infant! They are taking it away! My power, my exquisite power!" And Irenje wept.
Slowly the noise of the machinery dwindled and at last Smiler disengaged the switch. Now the sound died away entirely. "May we?" asked Artie.
"Oh, yes, yes, by all means. That is, ah, wait." The scientist pointed at a group of small cages against one wall. "Bring over one of those."
Artie complied. In the cage was a large white rabbit - somewhat too large, Artie thought frowningly, to be living in such a cramped cage.
Smiler took the cage from him, extracted the rabbit, then tossed it into Irenje's lap. She shrieked in a fury. "Take that thing away!"
"She's not actually touching it, you know," said West to the professor. The agent walked over, took up the rabbit, and held it against Irenje's face.
Nothing happened.
Now Artie came to Anushche's side of the machine and gently laid his hand on hers. He smiled at her and winked. "You see, droshche, this is what normally happens when a man takes a woman's hand."
Excitedly, she asked, "Then you feel nothing?"
"Ah, well, I didn't exactly say that!" he teased. Kneeling, he undid all her buckles. As soon as her hands were free, she reached up and shoved that helmet off her head. Shortly her feet were free as well and Artie stood up, taking her hand to help her up as well…
"Oof!"
For Anushche in her joy had launched herself into Artie's arms and was now giving him a very big kiss, and not on the cheek either. And for a second - no, only a split-second - Artie found himself kissing her back. Then he caught himself at it, gently withdrew from the kiss, and said, "Anushche, droshinje. Don't you remember? It's better if you don't do that."
"Oh but…" She looked up into his eyes, plainly confused. "I, I thought that it was because of the power and how it would make you inebriated. But the power is gone now. So why is it wrong?"
He shook his head gently, smiling genially. "Sweet child, you have to understand something. A woman's kiss, power or no power, can be intensely inebriating all on its own." And he kissed the top of her head avuncularly again and said, "Why don't you go help your sister while James and I start rounding up our… Ah… Jim? Where did Smiler go?"
Smiler! The scientist had been standing by the control panel. Where had he…?
There was a rending sound and Smiler popped up from beneath the control panel, a fistful of wires in his hand.
"Professor! What are you doing?"
"What do you think I am doing? I am destroying this malignant machine. I never want to see it or hear of it again, and I certainly never want anyone to use it again!"
"Sounds like a good plan to me, Professor," said Artie, adding,
"But this rough magic
I here abjure … I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book…"
And with the aid of a few nice big heavy tools, Smiler and the agents had the machine converted into kindling in short order.
"Excellent!" said Artie. "Or, to quote someone of our acquaintance, 'Capital!' And now we should…"
This time it was Jim who snapped his fingers. "Herk!"
"Herk? You know, that's right, I don't think I've seen him all day. What became of him, James?"
"Well, either we're a bit too late in asking Anushche to see about him, or else he should be recovering right about…"
There came a roar like an angry bull, followed immediately by the crash of yet another window being reduced to shards.
"…now," said Jim and picked up the prong gun once more. "I'll be right back."
"Oh, that's fine, Jim. You take your time. No hurry. No hurry at all."
.
[It's not over yet! Tag to follow.]