Unanswered Questions

"You knew?" Amanda West yelled just softly enough to keep the people in other sleeper compartments from hearing. She poked a jiu-jitsu strong finger into Tem's chest hard enough to make him take a step back. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

Tem not only backed up, he raised both hands palm outward in defense.

"They didn't want me to tell you! I just figured we would sooner or later! Besides, 'manda, he isn't an agent the same way we are! He's been working on equipment development the way your father always did – nothing d-"

He almost said 'nothing dangerous' – Amanda could tell exactly what word he'd been about to use and had cut off, and why. Since when hadn't some of her father's experiments been dangerous? Uncle Jim had always worried that his partner was going to get himself killed doing one of his little 'equipment developments' and now it turned out Jimmy was doing the same thing? And that her own husband had been keeping her in the dark about it too? As for his excuse . . . .

"Which they?"

"Come again?"

"Don't play ignorant with me, Artemus Jeremiah West! Colonel Longworth certainly didn't seem to know I wasn't let in on what my little brother had been up to for the past couple of years! Wherever this secrecy came from, it wasn't him or the President!" She watched her husband gaping and fishing around for words, and with a chill in her blood she knew who'd given Tem his marching orders for her exclusion all right. "This was my Dad's idea, wasn't it? Dad's and Jimmy's?" She could see she was right. Tem could go undercover with the stiffest poker face in the world when dealing with criminals or politicians – often the same thing – but he appeared unable to do the same with her.

"Amanda, they didn't want you or your mother to worry . . . ."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better, is it?" She poked him again, and there was some satisfaction in seeing him take the poke rather than trying to block it. "We silly little women aren't supposed to worry our silly little heads until we're being told Jimmy's gone and poisoned himself or chopped his own head off accidentally or-" blown himself up. She was the one cutting off her own words this time as the image of the hospital came back to her. Legs suddenly weak, she sank down and sat on the edge of the sleeper compartment bed and covered her eyes with her hands, which did nothing to erase that memory. "Oh, God . . . ."

She felt his hands on her shoulders, gentle rather than strong. Even as angry as she was, she wanted to throw herself into that embrace and find comfort, but she couldn't. Not right now. Keeping secrets from her was not okay, and Tem and Jimmy were both going to need that message pounded into their thick, masculine skulls before they got to Washington.

"Amanda, I'm sorry . . . ." he whispered. She knew he meant it. But he couldn't be let off the hook for this yet. She shivered rather than returning his touch.

"Just leave me alone for a little while, okay?" she croaked back, angry at the sound of the tears in her voice. She didn't want to sound weak. She didn't want to cry right now and make herself seem just like the silly little woman that so many men she encountered thought she was. But she couldn't help herself, especially with the strain of everything they'd been through in one week crashing down on her at once. She was grateful when she felt Tem withdraw his hands, heard him sigh, turn and exit out of the sleeper car, closing the door behind him. Good! Let him cool his heels somewhere else on the train and stew in his own misery for a while since he and Jimmy had done such a good job at making her feel miserable!

Men!

And to think that her father had been one of them too!

Well, of course he was. And Uncle Jim had probably been in on the secret as well. Her father wouldn't have kept anything from him. But to think that four human beings as otherwise intelligent as Artemus and James Gordon, and James and Artemus West could be so blockheaded as to . . . . It made her want to scream.

She had no doubt about who the ringleader in this little coven of silence had been either, and that was what really hurt now. Artemus Gordon had been an abolitionist and freedom fighter from his early youth, a progressive by the standards of his day in almost every way but one. Amanda supposed she couldn't entirely blame him for his actions. She knew her mother had turned down her father's first marriage proposal over her horror of what he did for a living, of all the dangers he faced. Though Lily Fortune had eventually changed her mind and even been the one to propose to him herself the second time around – now there was a story – and agreed to let him continue working for the Secret Service when she'd accepted the importance of his work . . . . Lily had never really been able to bear all the tales of the dangers her husband and Uncle Jim had faced. Oh, she'd listened, of course, as a dutiful wife had almost no choice in doing. But where Amanda had heard exciting bedtime stories that she assumed were mostly exaggerated or made up at the time, Lily had been the one to suffer through nightmares knowing that some of those stories were all too real.

Amanda remembered also, that her father hadn't wanted to raise his little girl to be a secret agent. Hadn't wanted to train her in all the unorthodox skills she had now. But he'd changed his mind quickly after she'd been attacked on a park playground by a neighborhood boy much larger and stronger than herself. She and Tem had gone to the playground on their own, trusted by the adults to be responsible. She'd been eight and Tem only six at the time – the bully who'd attacked her had been twice Tem's age and size. But when that bully had grabbed her arms, hurt her and started pushing her down onto the ground, Uncle Jim's little chip off the block had turned into a tornado of fists and fury, driving the bigger boy away. Tem had gotten a black eye for her valiant defense, but her attacker had gotten two of them.

After the children had run home, with Amanda bruised and crying and Tem with his eye swollen but taking it in silence like the little man he was, the effect on their parents had been plain. Amanda had never seen her father so pale, so grim, so . . . sad . . . as when he'd taken her small arms in his hands and seen the marks on them. Amanda thought he was shaking as he thanked his six year-old namesake for saving her. Aunt Adele and her mother had comforted both children and given them cookies, and later both families had gone out for ice cream as a reward for Tem's heroism. But that day changed their lives forever. From that incident on, Artemus Gordon wasn't just going to be protective of his little girl – he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she could protect herself if she had to, just like Tem. Uncle Jim, Aunt Kate and other Secret Service agents had been enlisted in the cause. They'd helped make Amanda what she was today – a force to be reckoned with.

But there was still that difference. Still the attitude that women were to be left out of certain things. Amanda could be a Secret Service agent, thanks mostly to Aunt Kate. She could work for the President of the United States, guard him, put her life on the line in his service, but she couldn't vote for one – heavens, no!

She apparently couldn't keep her own father, brother and husband from hiding an important fact from her either. That had to stop now. If what President Roosevelt and Colonel Longworth said was true, and she believed it was, they would all soon be facing a foe that wasn't any respecter of persons male or female, an unseen enemy that killed indiscriminately. Did any of them know what they were getting into? Jimmy didn't, she was certain of that. But Colonel Longworth had been right about one thing: they were all involved, whether they liked it or not. There was no turning back now. Yes, she was angry. Yes, she had every right to be. But she still loved her family so much that it hurt, and if she was going to keep them safe, she would have to show them just what a determined woman could do.

[WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW]

Compared to its awful start, the rest of the train journey to Washington was relatively uneventful. The first night didn't allow for much sleep as Amanda held her back to Tem in their shared bed, which turned out to be neither as comfortable nor as roomy as she'd hoped. Tem knew he was officially In Disgrace and didn't complain, but took his punishment like he always did, in silence. The second night didn't give her much rest either, as the best part of getting into an argument with Tem was forgiving and making up afterwards. The two of them had made love so fervently that they almost broke that sleeper car bed and then cuddled and snuggled together until they had fallen asleep a few meagre hours before sunrise. Still, with sufficient coffee and the stern rigors of training, she and Tem would manage their arrival in Washington with sufficient aplomb.

The same might not be said for her younger brother. With sheer force of will, Amanda managed to be flawlessly calm, polite and courteous to Jimmy, just to let him know he was really in trouble. Sadly, he really was in trouble, not just from her, and aware enough of it to let it show. Amanda felt pangs of pity and anxiety for him as the train drew closer to its destination. He might be a genius and the University of Chicago's youngest graduate, but he was also in way over his head this time and probably wishing he'd stayed home. She could see it in his face. She wanted to hug him and tell him how brave he was being and that everything was going to be all right, but Tem had been correct. She couldn't treat him like a child anymore, and she might not even be able to protect him. He wasn't a secret agent, but she and Tem were going to have to train him to become one, fast, and without their fathers around to help them do it. Ready or not, it was time for him to grow up, assuming they all survived. At the moment that was a big assumption to make . . . .

"Dad would . . . not be jealous . . . ." was all Amanda could say in stunned disbelief as she got her first look at the 'other train' that President Roosevelt expected them to catch. In fact, she felt a panicked longing for The Wanderer, staring up at the homely green behemoth in front of her. This train was bigger – no doubt about that – and perhaps more powerful if the boiler on such a secondhand industrial locomotive could be counted on to work. Jimmy seemed entranced by the sight of it, but Tem was gaping at the train in similar dismay.

"Appearances are meant to be deceiving," Agent Hamilton said with his customary imperturbable manner.

Amanda could only hope he was right. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen such an unappealing vehicle. Where The Wanderer showed a brilliant central lantern and sporty number emblem on its graceful dark-and-red front, this green – no, greenish – monster had a snub-nosed head with a numberless, ugly round plate covering it, and streaks of rust flanking its side.

"It looks like it belongs in a factory railyard," she complained.

"That's the idea." Hamilton walked them over to the locomotive engine as Amanda and Tem stared.

Tem reached a hand up to run it along one of the streaks of rust and his expression became puzzled. Pulling his fingers away and holding them up, they looked clean. He tried rubbing them a bit harder against the rust stain but not a trace of the residue came loose.

"Fake rust?" he asked.

Hamilton nodded.

"This entire train is brand new and state of the art," the agent explained. "It has been designed to look unexceptional on purpose. The old Wanderer was meant to resemble a fancy gambler's luxury item, which unfortunately made it stand out too much. There were reasons at the time, but it proved to be a vulnerability. The Wanderer II can travel anywhere in the country without attracting attention to itself. It is faster, roomier, has much greater carrying capacity and is much more defensible. Where the other Wanderer was broken into any number of times with comparative ease, this train is a fortress."

"I'll say," Tem frowned, looking down the body of the train at its equally unprepossessing railcars. "No windows?"

Hamilton shook his head as they walked alongside the train and directed them to reach up and touch a section of the second car near a set of stairs leading up.

"There are quite a few; they are coated with a special type of paint to remain opaque and hidden on the outside, but quite transparent from the inside. The technique involves hand painting and is very expensive, so please try not to break too many of them."

To Amanda's astonishment, her hand touched something that actually felt like a window's glass pane even though it looked like just another bit of the railcar's wall. Only the finest of ridges marked what must be the frame of that window. Agent Hamilton was right – appearances could be deceiving. Nothing about the outside of the train seemed special at first or even second glance. But what was the interior like?

Hamilton climbed on board the railcar they had been touching through a door that had been left unlocked for their benefit and gestured for them to follow him.

"If you accept the assignment," he said, "you will each be given your own key. Those too are expensive, and very important, so take good care of them."

Amanda wasn't sure what she had been expecting to see when they passed through the doorway – a larger mirror image of the 1870's Wanderer's garish appointments, or a bare, ugly metal space that matched the train's exterior. The reality was neither. Spread out before them was what appeared to be a perfectly comfortable, perfectly bland living space such as might be displayed in a model home, if that home were inside a train. Couches lined the walls, as they did in the original Wanderer, but they were of a different color and design – beige with green trim, and less ornate. In place of a billiard table, the central space was occupied by a double-sided – no, triple sided – partnership desk, with drawers on at least three sides and three chairs, so that all of them could be working with their own desk space at the same time, together or separately. A short distance from the desk was a long oak table that would have plenty of room for spreading out objects on it. But it was unusually thick, and Amanda would bet that it was more than just an ordinary table. Would they get to see all the refinements of this strange train if they said yes to what Colonel Longworth and the President were asking of them? Was there any, even remote, chance they could say no at this point?

Hamilton remained silent as they examined the other appointments in the large central railcar, the empty glass-fronted book cabinets, the green and beige carpeting and yes – the many magnificent, light-giving windows lined with green curtains and the wall sconces to be used at night. Jimmy, almost squeaking with anticipation, zig-zagged around the car and its furnishings touching panels and surfaces everywhere to reveal a host of hidden compartments and sliding, secret drawers. Give him a toy and he's happy, Amanda thought at first, before inwardly scolding herself. No – not toys – tools. You have to think of him as not a child anymore! Get used to it.

"You may wish to redecorate, of course," Hamilton told them, indicating he was ready for the tour to move on. "But it is hoped this will be good enough for a start. I thought you might want to see the other living arrangements."

The larger size of this train and its cars became apparent as the agent led them to what was a graciously appointed single bedroom with a generous double bed, a large wardrobe and closet as well as chest of drawers, small bookcase, suitable arrangements for a married couple. Just off of the bedroom was a water closet that – for a train feature – nearly took Amanda's breath away. Where the old Wanderer had a miserable cabinet-sized space with sink, facilities and shallow hip bath that could only have been comfortable to a contortionist, this space even boasted a full bath tub! Amanda was still admiring this when her brother's voice interrupted, sounding worried.

"Um, where am I supposed to sleep?"

"Your bedroom is on the opposite end of the car," Hamilton answered. "We can go there next. It has a separate water closet, of course."

Separate!

Bless them, Amanda thought. Oh, bless them!

Even if their new assignment proved fatal, she was liking its prospects better already.

Jimmy's bedroom area was almost as spacious as the one designated for Tem and Amanda. Amanda knew he'd be using every square inch of that space for the various mechanical gadgets, parts, tools and scientific bric-a-brac that accumulated like dust everywhere her brother went. The space did indeed have its own slightly smaller water closet, separated from the bedroom by a recessed spiral metal staircase leading up through a low ceiling section.

"To the rooftop observatory," Hamilton said as they stared at the staircase quizzically.

"Rooftop obs-" Amanda started to ask as her brother made another happy squeak and clambered up the staircase.

"There is a railing and a trio of anchored safety harnesses," Hamilton added. "We thought it might prove useful as well as enjoyable for Mr. Gordon."

Enjoyable anyway, Amanda thought as she heard Jimmy's exclamations over this unexpected amenity. She wondered if she, Tem or Hamilton would have to go up the stairs and drag Jimmy down bodily so they could continue the tour, but he came down willingly as soon as Hamilton said in a louder tone that he had more to show them.

And he did. Leading them through to the other railcars, he showed them a kitchen galley and dining area that her father would have found a dream to work in.

"One of the engineers is a very good cook and happy to oblige should you not wish to do so," Hamilton told them.

That was a relief. Amanda and Jimmy had both inherited at least some of their father's legendary cooking skills, but they probably would find themselves preoccupied and Tem had inherited his father's equally legendary cooking skills, which was to say he could wind up poisoning himself with his own coffee. The second railcar also contained abundant storage space as promised as well as a small game room, exercise space, a weapons cabinet and a laboratory for Jimmy. The third and final railcar contained a stable for horses and their tack, a two-horse wagon and the strangest surprise of them all.

"A horseless carriage?" Amanda asked as Jimmy and Tem stood mouths agape, albeit for different reasons.

"The latest auto-mobile design," Hamilton said. "Of course, it isn't the most practical form of transportation as yet, but-"

"It will never replace horses," Tem said, scowling.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow, but gave no other show of emotion and said nothing to contradict him. Jimmy was already hovering over the novel device, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to take this wonder apart for the sheer pleasure of examining each individual piece before putting it back together, no doubt with his own modifications.

It was a lot to take in, a whirlwind on top of the disaster that had all but destroyed them only the week before. Amanda normally thought herself equal to any situation, but she was grateful when Hamilton brought their tour of their possible new home to a close and allowed them to go back to their hotel to consider the prospect.

They all had a lot to ponder before they climbed on board that train for the real ride. It was obvious now that this was indeed something that the Secret Service had been planning to recruit them for all along. The Wanderer II, with its specific appointments, had not been brought into existence overnight. Had their fathers known about this? Had they approved, maybe even helped plan for this? Amanda found it difficult to believe that her loving and protective father would want both of his children hurtling themselves into danger along a set of train tracks the way he had, especially with Jimmy still a minor. But had he known and objected? Known and approved? Not known? What about Uncle Jim?

They would never have the chance to ask those questions now.

Dad, how could you die when I have so much more to talk to you about?

Amanda could almost hear her father answering her back with that familiar chuckle in his voice.

Well, I couldn't breathe, Sweetheart, and you need to be able to do that.

Amanda wanted to rest and be alone with her thoughts for a while, but that wasn't Tem's way or Jimmy's. Both of them, especially her brother, had a kind of restless energy whenever they faced unanswered questions. After a brief respite, those two opted to return to the Secret Service facility to work out their own feelings while she struggled with hers.

When Tem returned, his face was grim. He'd obviously learned something he didn't like, and just as obviously didn't want to share it when she asked.

"Not yet," was all he would say.

She didn't pester him. This wasn't a matter of keeping secrets from her. She trusted she'd conveyed adequately what would happen if he tried that again. No, this was Tem being Tem, still trying to work something out in his own head before talking about it. She'd noticed that trait in Uncle Jim too. When he felt ready to speak his piece, he would.

The following morning, Jimmy was already at the Secret Service headquarters before she and Tem got there, at work in one of the bureau's examination labs. He'd left a message for them to join him, and when they arrived, they found Jimmy engrossed in checking out an object they recognized.

"Dad's cane?" Tem asked softly, already knowing the answer. They all would have known that distinctive, hand-carved eagle head anywhere.

"Yes," Jimmy nodded, handling the treasured object carefully, with gloved hands. "It was found at the . . . the scene. I thought you should see this." He pressed the eagle's left eye with his thumb and the spring-mounted dagger blade popped out the bottom of the cane, coated in something that looked a little like splashed on rust. "Blood. Not his either, would be my guess." He turned the cane around, picked up a small implement from the examination table and used it to pry open the eagle's beak, which had resembled part of a solid carving. "I checked the gas capsule reservoir too – empty. Looks like Uncle Jim put up one heck of a fight."

"Always," Tem said.

Jimmy twisted the eagle's head and unscrewed it from the body of the cane.

"He didn't leave any messages inside it, though, or use the wire and grapple hook. They're still in there."

How poor Uncle Jim could have done anything more than he already had, Amanda couldn't imagine. But the lack of any message was a disappointment. Obviously he hadn't had time or strength before his injuries brought him down.

Jimmy screwed the eagle head back on and pushed the beak into place. Another press of the left eye caused the bloodied knife blade to snap back into its concealed space. It now appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary cane, just as her parasols all appeared to be ordinary too. Jimmy set the cane back down on the examination table, took of his gloves, and they all stared at it for a moment.

"I can't believe they're really gone . . . . " Jimmy whispered, though they all could believe by now.

Tem reached down and stroked the smooth, worn surface on top of the eagle's head with the tip of one finger.

"We'd better start believing it." Tem's voice was not much more than a whisper itself. "Because we've got another problem. A big one."