Act Two, Part One

"Quickly. Bring her here," said Catalina, taking charge of at least part of the situation. She led Andreshko as he bore the swooning Anje back out into the front room of the missing Mireje's suite, and directed the young soldier to settle his cousin upon the divan. "Smelling salts," she told him. "In the washroom. Quickly!" She knelt and chafed Anje's wrists while Dr Rodin hovered nearby, nervously polishing his glasses.

Within the bedroom, Jim studied the letter, then passed it back to Artie. "I'd prefer that full translation right now," he said.

"Sure, Jim, sure." With a quick ahem to clear his throat, Artie read aloud:

Your Majesty,

It cannot have escaped your attention that, now that the day of your nuptials has arrived, something vital is missing from the festivities. No doubt your mind is racing with questions at this moment: Where is my fiancée? Why has this happened? What must I do to ensure her safe return?

All in good time, Highness, all in good time. And rest assured that the answers to these questions come at a price. Romantic rhetoric dictates that the price of Love is far beyond rubies and diamonds, an inestimable treasure, for who would not give all that he possesses, yes, even his own life, for Love?

But our demands are far more modest. We require of you a mere 100,000 Ptervonian krufkozí, to be placed in a plain cloth sack and deposited within the throne room of the Old Palace at midnight three days hence. Once that is done, you may expect all your questions to be answered forthwith.

Artie held the paper out to Jim again. "You, ah, probably already noted the lack of any signature."

Jim nodded and picked up the envelope, studying the broken bits of wax. "I don't suppose anyone recognized the seal that had been pressed into the wax?" he asked loudly of everyone within earshot, both those with him in the bedroom and those out in the front room where Andreshko was just handing the bottle of smelling salts to Catalina.

"Of course I recognized it!" the king growled, springing to his feet and beginning to pace. "It was the Gorashko family crest. Whoever sealed that envelope used Mireje's own signet ring to do so. But who could have done this? Who hates me so badly as to carve my heart from my chest like this? How were they able to steal Mireje from her own rooms? Where have they taken my beloved? And where…" He whirled and glared at his majordomo. "Where is that worthless bodyguard Lieutenant Chel… Chel…" Angrily Stepanko shook his hand in midair. "Ah, what is the idiot's name?"

"Lieutenant Jenko Chelzumortko, Highness," came a voice from the front room. There in the doorway, swaying and holding onto the doorframe, stood the king's cousin Anje, her eyes every bit as fiery as her voice was now frosty. "Jenko, who happens to be my fiancé, lest we forget, is neither worthless nor an idiot. Doubtless the kidnappers have done something to him, and..." With a sudden gasp of horror, she exclaimed, "No, the windows! They are standing open. Surely the kidnappers did not fling him to his death!" She rushed to a window and leaned out.

Catalina hurried after her and caught her about the wrist. "Dreshko, come and help me!" she called to the captain, and to Anje she added urgently, "Zernkje muje, please, come away from the window. There is tragedy enough for one day; do not let yourself be added to it!"

Andreshko tugged his cousin away from the open window and started to lead her back toward the front room. "Come and lie down on the divan for a while longer, Anushche. You'll feel better," he advised.

"How can I feel better, Dreshko, when Mireje is gone and no one knows what has become of my Jenko? Oh, Jenko, Jenko!" she cried loudly and fell to the floor, weeping.

At that moment the two Secret Service agents turned and looked at each other. "You hear something, Jim?"

"Yes, thumping." Both men made a quick visual survey of the room, searching for the source of the sound. "There! The wardrobe!"

Jim, Artie, and young Dreshko as well made for the tall, fancifully carved oaken cabinet in the corner. Jim grabbed the latch and shook it. "Locked."

"I have the key," Catalina offered, reaching into the reticule pinned at her waist.

"That's fine, Cat, but Jim's got it," said Artie. Sure enough, Jim slipped his handy little lock pick from its pocket under his lapel and in three seconds had the door open.

For the next three seconds everyone in the room simply stared, most of them with mouths agape, at the amazing sight the opening of the door had disclosed within the wardrobe. Then…

"Jenko!" Anje scrambled up off the floor and flung herself upon the tall lieutenant who was crammed within the wardrobe, ropes binding him hand and foot, with a gag tied around his mouth. "Oh, Jenko!" Anje pulled the gag free and kissed him. "What, oh, what happened? Come, help him out of here!"

Between the combined efforts of Jim, Artie, and Dreshko, hampered slightly by Anje's incessant fluttering over her fiancé, the lieutenant was shortly set loose and escorted to the divan in the front room. He sat down and stretched out his legs, rubbing at his wrists, blushing slightly at Anje's solicitous attention. "I am fine, I am fine, Anushche, I assure you," he repeated over and over.

"It is well that you are fine," the king's voice cut in coldly, "but what of Mireje?"

At that the lieutenant looked up, then all around, a dawning horror settling into his eyes. "But… where is my Lady?" Jenko asked at last.

"We were hoping you could tell us," said Jim. And Artie, beside him, wordlessly held out the ransom note.

Jenko read it and sprang to his feet. "Njede!" he exclaimed. "No, this cannot be! I was guarding. I was… I was…" Suddenly he looked all about. "That bottle. Mir… my Lady asked for more wine. I advised her that she had already had too much. She said… ah…"

"Go on," said Jim, and the king, arms folded, echoed him. "Yes, Lieutenant, do go on."

Jenko rubbed at the back of his neck. "She said if I did not wish her to drink so much, I must make the wine disappear myself." Sheepishly he explained, "She meant that I must drink some too, so there would be less for her. I took a glass, intending to pretend to drink, then distract her and dump out the rest. But then she proposed a toast — 'To marriage!' — and I could not abstain without being rude."

Artie shook his head. "Looks like I need to give this young fellow a quick lesson in sham drinking!" he muttered to Jim.

"And when you drank?" Jim prompted.

"I… I don't know. I vaguely remember the room… spinning? But how could that be? I saw Mi… my Lady pass her hand over her face, then collapse. I… I think someone came into the room? But after that, nothing. Nothing until a few minutes ago when I heard someone cry out my name and realized it was Anushche. That's when I discovered I was bound and gagged and stuffed into a small space. So I began to kick the walls."

"And that's when we heard you," said Artie. He sighed and shook his head. "Well, my young friend, in the ongoing informal contest of who had the worst night last night, I think you just surged past the king into second place. No offense, Your Majesty," he added, anticipating that Stepanko would be glaring daggers at him.

"And for whom," growled Stepanko, "are you reserving first place in this irreverent game of yours?"

"Why, for Mireje of course! Unless someone can beat getting kidnapped?"

"Artie…" muttered Jim quellingly. He well understood making jokes in the face of disaster, but the king didn't seem to be particularly charmed by his partner's gallows humor.

"Zartechko dujo…" came a voice.

Stepanko glared at the speaker. "Oh, what do you want, you young fool?"

Lieutenant Jenko snapped to attention and saluted stiffly. "My king, I wish to report for duty."

"Duty? What… what are you talking about?"

Eyes straight ahead and still maintaining his salute, Jenko replied, "Sir! It is my job to guard Baroness Mireje. Whoever took her had to go through me…"

"…and did!" the king broke in sourly.

"…and therefore my reputation is at stake, my king. Give the word, and I ride at once to rescue both your bride and my good name!"

"What? Jenko, no!" Anje protested. "You just spent the night crammed into a wardrobe, and are recovering from a drugged sleep as well! You must rest first. There are plenty of soldiers the king may send instead of you."

Jenko turned to her and took both her hands in his. "That is true, Anushche my own. But how can I marry you if I have not done everything in my power to find and restore the baroness to the king? My name is at stake. Or dare I say it, our name, when the time comes that you share mine?"

Artie thumped his nose and shot a glance at Jim. What a pair of love-struck kids! But it was the king, one hand over his face, who spoke up. "Fine, fine! Go at once and rescue your name and my bride! But hear this and hear this well, Lieutenant Chel… Cher…"

"Chelzumortko," the majordomo supplied.

"Yes, yes. Hear me well, Lieutenant Chelzumortko: if you fail in your mission and do not return here with Baroness Mireje within the three days given in the letter — then do not return at all."

Anje gaped, stunned. "Panko!" she hissed.

"That is my decision, and it is final!" Stepanko roared. He swept across the room, very nearly knocking little Dr Rodin right off his feet. Then the king strode out and slammed the door behind him.

Jim caught the little Frenchman and set him upright again. For a moment everyone stared at the still vibrating door. Then Jenko said, "It will all be fine, Anushche, you shall see. Yes, perfect — more than perfect! All that I have promised you I shall do, and all our plans and dreams for the future shall come to pass." Her hands still clasped between his, he smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Atuchejnte dje," he said.

"Atuchejnte djo," she replied.

As Anje turned to watch him leave as well, Jenko gave a nod to all those still present. "Good-bye, my friends," he said. Then he too swept from the room, but for his part he closed the door behind him very gently indeed.