The Night of the Mexican Revenge
Chapter 5
The Wake-up Call
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
(Oscar Wilde)
The only way out of the basement was the stairs that Jim had previously been thrown down. Artie looked at them with trepidation, not at all sure that Jim was in a fit state to climb them, even with his help.
"Where are we going?" Jim asked.
"To find our horses and get the hell out of here," Artie replied.
"No, we have to find out what Mrs Day and her son are up to."
"Jim, if I let go of you now you'd probably fall over. You're sick. We can come back later."
"No, it'll be too late. We have to confront them now."
"Jim, you can't be serious. We don't even have our guns."
"They must be in here somewhere. Look in the drawer of that table over there."
Artie looked at Jim and realised that he would not listen to any more arguments. He sat him down in a nearby chair and headed over to the desk. Unbelievably he found the guns where Jim had said. At least something was going their way. He handed Jim his gun and holstered his own.
"Now let's get out of here," he tried again.
"They must be in another part of the basement," Jim said. "Otherwise, why were they down here when we arrived?"
"I've seen enough of this basement to last me a lifetime," Artie said. "Why don't you let me take you out of here and then I'll come back and see if I can find them?"
"Alright," Jim finally agreed. His face had gone very white again and Artie knew the only reason he'd agreed was because he must be feeling ill. He helped Jim up the stairs and through the house to the back door. Just as they were stumbling across what used to be the garden, Jim pushed Artie away from him and turned to vomit violently into the weeds. He was close to collapse as Artie grabbed him and supported him to a nearby stone bench. "That's it," he said. "I'm going to fetch the horses and bring them here then I'm taking you to Beaumont, to see a doctor."
"No, not enough time," Jim managed to get out.
"I don't care what the Days are up to, I'm far more worried about you. Please Jim, listen to me."
"This is our job, Artie, we get paid to do this. We have to stop them."
"We don't get paid to take risks with our lives...," Artie began and then realised that was exactly what they were paid for. Jim was looking at him with a kind of desperate appeal in his eyes and he realised he was right, lives were probably at stake and he had to go back in. "Alright, you stay here and I'll see if I can find out anything."
Jim did his best to nod in agreement and then closed his eyes. Artie studied him carefully; the colour of his hair, which had fallen across his face, was in stark contrast to his pallor. He wanted to stay and make sure he was not about to pass out, realised he had other priorities, and reluctantly turned back toward the house.
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Dolores was still in the laboratory but Carlos had left her to get some fresh air and smoke a cigarette. Deciding to return to the laboratory, he came around the corner of the house and caught sight of Artemus Gordon, looking in through the basement windows. Carlos crept up behind him and shoved the barrel of his revolver in Artie's back. With his free hand he removed Artie's gun from its holster.
"Don't move!" Carlos said.
"Here we go again," Artie replied, annoyed that he had clumsily allowed himself to be caught. He'd been so worried about Jim he had allowed his concentration to slip.
"Where's your friend?" Carlos asked.
"Dead," Artie said, turning toward him. "You killed him, you bastard."
Carlos looked him in the face, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth. This was difficult, owing to the swelling and the rapidly developing black eyes.
"Come on, back to the basement," Carlos said, motioning Artie toward the front door.
They descended the lethal stairs once more but this time Carlos took Artie to the laboratory, where he had left his mother hard at work. He pushed him into a chair and tied him to it.
"Ah Mr Gordon," Dolores said. "Why have you brought him here, Carlos?"
"I caught him snooping around outside."
"So you managed to escape," she said. "How resourceful; I don't suppose you will tell me how you accomplished it?"
Artie looked at her mulishly.
"Of course not," she said. "And are we not to have the pleasure of Mr West's company, Carlos?"
"This one says he is dead."
"And you believe him?"
"No, I'm going outside to look for him, after I've checked the room where they were tied up."
"Alright, in the meantime, I will entertain Mr Gordon."
As soon as Carlos had gone, Dolores turned her chair to face Artie's. "I expect you are wondering what we are doing here," she said.
"The question had crossed my mind," Artie said. "Care to enlighten me?"
"I shall be happy to," she replied. "You must have suspected something, otherwise you wouldn't have returned."
"I might as well tell you I remembered being here as a boy. I know that you were the one Charles Day gave the information to and that Carlos is his son."
"Very clever, Mr Gordon."
"Thank you. Once I'd realised that, it was only logical to suspect that you had murdered your husband. We came back to arrest you."
"I thought that might be the case. I wanted to kill you all while you were here before, but Carlos wouldn't let me. He said you would accept Liston's death as natural causes; he had the swamp fever so badly."
"You let that man rot in prison for over thirty years for something you did," Artie accused, "and then you stamped him out like a fly, the first chance you got. You are some piece of work, lady."
"Nothing matters to me except the land that was stolen from my people. I married Liston for one reason only, to be able to enter Texas and live here openly, while his father and I plotted the downfall of our American enemies."
"What a shame that Charles Day died so soon afterwards."
Dolores smiled. "Not really, he had outlived his usefulness and he knew too much."
"So you killed him too."
"It was just a matter of loosening the straps on his saddle. No one suspected it was anything but a riding accident. You see I have been very clever."
"Treacherous and evil are better words to describe you," Artie told her, with disgust.
Just then the door opened and Carlos walked in with Jim cradled in his arms. Artie struggled to stand up but was pinioned firmly to the chair. "Jim," he breathed. His partner looked more dead than alive, his head leaning against Carlos' shoulder was still; his eyes shut. Just when he thought he had been right when he told Carlos that Jim was dead, he noticed a slight movement of his partner's eyelashes.
ooooooooooo0ooooooooooo
Artie looked across at Jim, satisfied that he was as well as could be expected, given his condition. Carlos had produced brandy from the main house and managed to tip some down Jim's throat. This had returned some colour to his cheeks at least, and he had recovered even more when they had both been spoon-fed some hot soup, by Dolores' fair hand. Artie had tried to forget that it was the same hand that had slipped the poison into Liston Day's oatmeal. Now Jim was slumped in a chair opposite his partner, tied hand and foot. They were back to square one and Artie suspected that the only reason they had kept Jim alive was because the Days wanted both of them to know their plans before they disposed of them. 'Shades of Miguelito Loveless,' Artie thought. He couldn't know how close he was to the truth.
"Now where were we before we were interrupted, Mr Gordon?" Dolores asked.
"I believe I was calling you an evil, treacherous bitch," Artie said. That got Jim's attention; he looked up and essayed a crooked smile. It did Artie's heart good to see it.
"I was hoping to gloss over that part of our conversation," Dolores said, slightly disconcerted. "We were, if you recall, discussing my intention to reclaim Texas on behalf of Mexico."
"You'll never do it," Artie said. "Texas is too well established, the people would fight you tooth and nail. Remember how it turned out last time?"
"You say that because you know nothing of our plans," Carlos broke in.
"I hope it doesn't have anything to do with rats and the plague," Artie said, remembering the mad scheme thought up by Liston Day in his dream.
"I hadn't thought of that," Dolores said, thoughtfully. "No, that would be too difficult to implement," she decided.
"So what do you have in mind?"
"Mosquitoes," Carlos dropped into the silence.
"What, those whining, biting, infuriating things?" Artie asked, failing to see what danger they could possibly be.
"I too would have thought the same thing," Dolores said, "had I not meant the incredible genius, Doctor Miguelito Loveless and his charming companion."
"Loveless!" Artie said. "I thought he perished in a fire."
"I know nothing of that. I first met him some time ago. It was quite bizarre. He told me he had arrived on the back of a raven and I suppose it was possible as he and the lady with him were no more than six inches tall."
"So that's how he escaped."
"So you knew him back then?2
"All too well, I'm sorry to say. He shrank Jim as well but I managed to give him the antidote."
"He explained to me that, in his haste to escape, he had forgotten to take any of the antidote with him. In his situation it was not possible for him to make more of it so he asked for my help, which I gave him, in exchange for his help with my plans for revenge.
"That man has the nine lives of a cat," Artie exclaimed. "What mad scheme did he suggest?"
"He is a man far ahead of his time and totally undervalued by this country. He had been experimenting in the field of disease and had discovered that this sickness you label 'swamp fever' is in fact cuased by a parasite carried by infected mosquitoes."
At first it seemed ludicrous until Artie thought about it for a moment. He knew how clever a scientist Loveless was, it was only the use he made of his discoveries and inventions that was tinged with lunacy. "How are you going to use that piece of knowledge?" he asked.
"Doctor Loveless gave me the formula for a new poison, one that affects cattle only. I am going to make sure that thousands of mosquitoes carry that poison across Texas."
"What?"
"Yes, I agree, not all that devastating. But that's only the beginning."
Artie looked at Jim, who had his eyes closed. He had been taking everything in but had let Artie do the talking, conserving his energy and making himself seem weaker than he actually was. It would give him a better chance of escape. Jim could feel that Carlos hadn't tied his hands and feet as tightly as before, probably because he didn't see him as a threat. He had been slowly trying to slip out of the ropes and believed that when the time came he could be free in a matter of seconds. He hoped neither Senora Diaz nor her son had noticed.
"Don't you think it's dangerous, making up the formula for this poison? If you get it wrong it could be deadly. You might end up killing the entire human population."
"You make that sound like a bad thing, Mr Gordon. My only concern is that it might kill me or my son, before we could implement it. Afterwards it won't matter; we have long been prepared to sacrifice our lives for the cause."
"You're mad!"
"If that is true then it is the greed of your government that has made me so."
"What are you going to do with us?" he asked, nodding toward Jim.
"You two are a nuisance. I would rather your government believe that the disease is of natural origin but that would not be possible if we leave you alive to tell them about our part in it. Because of this you must die."
"I gathered that much. How are you going to do it? If you were going to poison us, you should have put it in the soup."
"No, it has to look like an accident otherwise your colleagues will come to investigate. Perhaps you might have returned here and found the house empty, also perhaps you decided to stay the night and perhaps you left the fire burning and then perhaps a piece of wood rolled onto the carpet and perhaps the house burned down. That would result in your deaths and the destruction of any evidence.
"Perhaps," Artie mimicked. "Won't it be a little awkward if our charred bodies are found tied to chairs in the basement?"
"Of course not, you will be found asleep in the drawing room, having been untied and drugged to make sure you are unconscious throughout the whole thing."
"You become more dangerous the longer I know you."
"It's a good thing it won't be for very much longer then."
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Doctor Loveless was before his time. The connection between mosquitoes and Malaria (swamp fever) was not made until 1897.