The Night of the Mexican Revenge
Chapter 6
The Day of Revenge
"I felt that I breathed an atmosphere of sorrow."
(Edgar Allan Poe)
With thanks to my reviewer who has encouraged me to publish this story. It's time to try and save Texas. Please send reviews, even if you hate it.
"Before you kill me," Artie said, "I'd be interested to know how you're going to accomplish your ridiculous scheme."
"Very well, the room where we are now is the laboratory where I have produced the formula. The room beyond this is where I keep the mosquitoes, behind that door over there."
Artie looked where she pointed and could make out a metal door with a rubber seal.
"The room is sealed in case any of the insects escape. I transported them here as pupae, just before they were about to mature. Of course the containers have to be kept at the right level of heat and humidity, with the use of wet towels. There also needs to be a steady supply of air and water."
"How do you introduce the poison?"
"We put it in the blood meal we feed them. They are immune to it but, to the cattle, once bitten, it is lethal."
It was at that point that Artie realised that the woman was serious and there was a chance that she and her son might actually pull off the bizarre revenge they were planning. He saw Jim's shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly, showing that he felt the same way. Knowing that Jim was still conscious was a boost to Artie's morale. He knew he couldn't get them out of there on his own. Before he knew it, his hopes were dashed as Carlos approached them.
"Mother, the mosquitoes are ready and it is time to act." This was said in Spanish but Artie understood and knew that, if they remained in their present circumstances, any chance to prevent the release of the deadly insects would be lost.
"I have waited over thirty years for this moment," Dolores replied. "I will release the mosquitoes." So saying, she stood up and went into the room where the insects were kept.
Artie struggled anew to release himself. It was no good. He didn't want to think of the damage that would be done to Texas and its economy. Was this going to be the one assignment where they would have to admit defeat? Would they even live to regret that they had been unsuccessful in defeating the two Mexicans? For the first time he began to doubt it.
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Dolores was gone no longer than ten minutes. Artie couldn't help thinking how little time it took to destroy the livelihoods of much of the Texas population. He gave some thought as to how Carlos was going to move them both upstairs, without risking their trying to escape, once they were untied. As it happened, that was easily solved.
When Dolores returned, she hugged her son and there were tears in her eyes. "I've waited so long to get my revenge," she said. Then she stepped back, out of her son's arms. "We need to take our prisoners upstairs now," she said.
"Why do we need to do that?" Carlos asked.
"Because we want to make their deaths seem natural," Dolores answered.
"Once the house has collapsed, no one will be able to tell which room they were in when the fire started. All we need to do is drug them and then untie them. There will be no evidence that they were being held prisoner."
Dolores thought about it for a moment. "It will certainly make things easier," she conceded. "Alright."
Thankfully, Jim did such a good job of being unconscious Carlos didn't bother to drug him. Artie was not so lucky and soon felt a needle in his neck and then nothing after that.
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Jim realised that he was still in no way fit enough to take on Dolores, let alone her son Carlos. So he had to wait patiently, pretending to be unconscious, until his captors left the basement, probably to go upstairs and set the fire. Once they left, he would release the ropes around his wrists and free Artie. What he would do next, he wasn't quite sure, but he'd manage somehow.
After twenty minutes or so he heard the sound of a horse and cart crossing in front of the house and knew the pair were on their way. He was also aware of the crackling sound of a fire, somewhere in the house. In no time he had slipped the ropes over his hands and was able to free his feet. He spent some time regaining his equilibrium, after having to bend down. Looking across at his partner, he could see that Artie was deeply asleep and there would be no way to rouse him. He managed to untie his hands and feet and then sat back down in his chair to rest for a couple of minutes. He knew he would need all of his diminished energy to help Artie out of the cellar.
Jim knew that once again he would have to traverse the stairs leading to the ground floor of the house. He braced himself and grabbed Artie around the waist, in an attempt to hoist him over his shoulder. He wobbled on his feet and turned to stagger up the stairs with his burden. He was sweating by the time he reached the hallway of the house. He laid Artie on the floor for a moment and leaned on the wall, feeling disoriented. There was a thickening pall of smoke emanating from the sitting room, and the temperature around him was increasing.
It was obvious he was not going to be able to carry Artie any further so he resorted to dragging him by the armpits through the house and out of the front door. He carried on until they were at least fifty yards from the house and then let go of him and sat down on the ground. His head was aching and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go to sleep but he had to look out for his partner.
It was just over half an hour later when Artie began to groan and move his limbs, telling Jim he was about to surface from his drug-induced dreams.
"What the...?" he mumbled, trying to sit up.
"Come on, sleeping beauty," Jim cajoled. "Wake up, we need to get going."
Artie remembered where they were and, as quickly as he was able, in his groggy state, rolled over and made it to his feet. "Where are they?" he demanded.
"Long gone," Jim said, "along with the mosquitoes. Looks like we failed this one, partner."
Artie ran a hand through his hair. "What now?" he asked.
"We continue on to Beaumont and put the word out for their arrest. We need to warn the authorities about the mosquitoes too."
"What about the house?"
Jim looked up at the building. It was now burning with full force and there was the sound of timbers collapsing.
"I think it's a good idea to let it be destroyed. There is an air of sadness about the place, so many people lost their loved ones here; it's a place without hope or comfort."
"Why, Jim, I never knew you were so sensitive."
"Put it down to the bump on the head," Jim replied. "Let's go find our horses and get out of here."
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The ride to Beaumont was uneventful. Once there, Artie insisted that they book into a hotel so that his partner could rest up and he also made him visit the local doctor. It turned out that he did have a concussion but, in the doctor's opinion, his being made to sit upright, during his incarceration, had probably been the best thing for him.
Artie made sure that Jim returned to the hotel, before making his way to the sheriff's office.
"Morning Sheriff."
"Good to see you, Mr Gordon. Did you bring those two Mexicans with you?"
"No," Artie sighed, with an air of defeat, "things didn't quite turn out as we planned." There followed an explanation of everything that had happened since the two agents had last seen him.
"Well, I'll be damned," the sheriff exclaimed. "We need to get word out to the local ranches, as soon as possible, though what they can do I just don't see."
"I'll leave you to handle that. I'm going over to the telegraph office now to make my report."
"That reminds me," the sheriff said, "this letter was waiting here when I returned. It's addressed to you and Mr West."
Artie looked at the envelope. He thought he recognised the handwriting.
"You'd better open it. Might be urgent," the sheriff said.
Artie ripped open the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper he found inside. He started to read.
"Dear Mr West and Mr Gordon,
I am desolated that I am unable to see you in person at this time. Nevertheless, I feel it incumbent upon me to apprise you of a meeting I had, some time ago now, in fact before our last outing together, with a mother and son, of Mexican origin. So I have decided to write to you about it, at the cost of letting you know that I am still alive and did not perish in the conflagration that ended our last adventure together.
The family in question are Dolores Diaz and her son Carlos. They were of some use to me, when I found myself at an even greater disadvantage regarding my height than usual. I entrusted them with the formula of the antidote to restore my adored Antoinette and me to our original size. As you can imagine, I was in no way able to synthesise the potion myself and was reliant upon them to do it for me. I am embarrassed to admit that I bribed these two with the promise of a different formula, one which would bring to ruin the vast cattle ranches of Texas. As the achievement of this aim would not further my purpose in any way and realising that, unlike me, the pair of them had become completely insane in their quest for revenge, I in fact gave them a harmless formula which would do no harm at all.
An informant tells me that, after hearing that Liston Day had escaped from prison, Senora Diaz and her son left Mexico to travel to Texas, so I am sending this letter to await you at the nearest town to the house they told me about, which was where they have a laboratory. I was sure that you two would be involved in this case and, if not, then this letter will hopefully reach you somehow, wherever you are, and you will be able to put the authorities' minds at rest.
I look forward to our next meeting and remain, as ever, your adversary,
Doctor Miguelito Loveless"
Artie couldn't help laughing with relief when he had finished reading.
"Is it good news?" the sheriff asked.
"Very good news," Artie replied. "I have to go now but I'll see you again before we leave town."
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Back at the hotel he found Jim fast asleep so instead of waking him, he left the letter by his bed and went to the telegraph office to make his long-awaited report. Then he went to the local eatery, for a much-needed and satisfying meal, before returning to the hotel to have a shave and change of clothes.
When Jim woke up, he read the letter and welcomed Artie with the words, "Well, I never thought I'd be pleased to hear from that crazed little guy."
"Yeah, he's definitely got us out of a sticky spot. When Mrs Day was telling me that he gave her the formula, I should have realised there and then that it was unlike him to further anyone else's aims but his own. And all that rubbish he told her about mosquitoes spreading malaria should have made me suspicious."
"Don't beat yourself up. The Doctor is one character who likes to remain unpredictable so you can never know what he is planning until he turns up again. Look at how many times he's caught us off guard."
"Yeah, you're right. Anyway, I've sent my report to the Colonel and it's now up to him to arrange for Mrs Day and her son to be brought in and face justice. What are we going do now?"
"First I'm going to clean myself up. Then I'm going to have something to eat. After that, we'll return to the Wanderer for some well-earned rest. I reckon we could make it to New Orleans just in time for Mardi Gras."
"That sounds good to me, the last part anyway, the first two you're going to have to do on your own," he chuckled, but then had a sudden thought. "With your concussion do you think you'll be safe in the bath-tub on your own? Maybe I ought to come with you."
"That's a great idea. I could really do with someone to pour my bath for me and scrub my back and cut my toenails and..."
"On second thoughts, I think you'd be safer on your own. I'm likely to drown you myself."
Jim laughed at that and Artie smiled, so glad that Jim was there with him and okay, he decided that, bathing apart, he wasn't going to let his partner out of his sight for some time to come.
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The End