Act Two, Part Four

Sure enough, there was no one beyond the side door of the throne room. Artie read the disappointment on the young woman's lovely face. "An old friend of yours?" he asked.

She sighed. "Oh, but that is the problem! I have met him before; I am sure of that. But I cannot recall precisely where I have seen him…"

Working on the assumption that she had in fact recognized Jim, Artie asked helpfully, "Well, have you ever been to America?"

This question was greeted by a small laugh. "Oh my, yes! One of the more memorable journeys of my life. I was kidnapped, you see, and held a prisoner in the cellar of my country's embassy in Washington City by order of my very own brother! As you may imagine, I saw precious little of the United States during my sojourn there, but at length I was rescued by…" A look of delight suffused her face. "Ah, but that is from whence I know the man I just saw! He was the one who rescued me, and his name is…"

With a snap of his fingers, Artie suddenly exclaimed. "Of course! Princess Gina Carlottica of Albania!"

"No, my rescuer's name was James West. I am Princess Gi…" She broke off, her eyes widening. "But how is it that you know my nickname? Only close members of my family call me Carlottica!"

"I beg your pardon, Highness. It happens that I once heard a member of your family speak of you by that name. You see, I, ah… had a certain, shall we say, acquaintance with your brother Gio." And there was something glittering in his eyes as he said that.

Slowly, and edging away a bit as she spoke, the princess responded with, "Dear me. I'm afraid the fact that you were a former associate of my brother does not particularly inspire me to trust you, Mr, ah…"

"Gordon. Artemus Gordon. James West is my partner. I was there at the embassy the night Jim found you, the night that your brother, ah…"

She nodded. "The night Gio fell through the ceiling, or so I was told. Poor Gio! He went from being a robust athlete to a helpless invalid in less than a second."

Artie stared at her. "Invalid? You mean he survived that? I saw him sprawled on the floor, Highness, right after it happened. He, uh, didn't look in very good shape, you know."

"Considering that all he is able to do anymore is lie about drooling, no, he is not in very good shape. However," she added, "he had long before squandered his talents by living a life of crime, and at least now he is no longer the head of the Camorra." She glanced up at him. "But enough about my poor misguided brother. I am very relieved to know you are not among his former companions in wickedness! And you are Artemus Gordon, then? During Mr West's abortive attempt to release me from my prison cell, he told me to remember your name, saying that I could trust you. How wonderful it is to meet you at last!" She extended a hand and he bowed over it. "But where is Mr West?" she asked.

"Meeting with the king at the moment," he replied. "And you are here for the wedding, I presume, to represent Albania among the many crowned heads of Europe who have come?"

"Oh, more than that, Mr Gordon! I am one of Baroness Mireje's attendants. We were all to come first thing this morning to assist her in preparing for the wedding. And yet…" She frowned in puzzlement. "I think I must have been the first of her bridesmaids to arrive. And what strange behavior on the part of the majordomo! Why would Duzko try to send me away? He knows I'm to be here. And for that matter…" She trailed off, her eyes troubled.

"For that matter?" Artie prompted.

"Well," she sighed, "this morning as I was making ready to come to the palace, my own ladies-in-waiting were all atwitter with rumors about… ah, about the wedding being postponed. I told them they must be mistaken, that if such a thing were true, we would have received an official message from King Stepanko himself, not merely wild stories circulating in the streets. And yet when I arrived here at the palace, I found a scene of confusing chaos, and the majordomo trying to eject me from the palace without explanation! Mr Gordon, please tell me: what is going on? Are the rumors true? What is happening?"

Artie glanced about, then murmured, "Come this way." He offered his arm and steered the princess into a small private room nearby, making sure that no one was trailing them before he closed the door and jammed the back of a chair under the knob to lock it.

…

Expecting to need the aid of an interpreter, Jim slipped the letter from the envelope and unfolded it, only to find to his surprise that this missive was completely in English:

Your Majesty,

Do you care about the lovely baroness' well-being, or do you not? Too many people are speaking too many words, spreading rumors and lies. Bring this to an end! You are the king; tell them all to hold their tongues. If you do not and we hear of it — and rest assured, we shall hear of it! — you put your beloved's life in jeopardy.

Remember this: Baroness Mireje's safety depends upon your wise actions as her loving fiancé. Do nothing to bring about any harm to her, and do not permit others to tittle-tattle on about matters that are none of their business!

"And again, it's unsigned."

"You see now the reason for the announcement I just made, I suppose," said Stepanko.

"Where did this come from?" said Jim.

The king gave a shrug and crossed again to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. "I have no idea, Mr West. I came downstairs from the horror of learning Mireshche was missing, and that envelope was upon the desk. You see there the bits of wax that fell when I snatched it up and opened it."

Yes, there were crumbs of sealing wax on the desk. Jim turned the envelope over and examined it, then scrutinized the letter itself carefully also. "Who has been in here? Who has access to your office?"

Stepanko took a slug of his drink and spread his hands. "That is the curious part, my friend! I do not know who could have come into this room. Duzko has a key, of course, but he was upstairs the entire time I was, and afterwards as well, I think. Other than he…" Again the king lifted his shoulders.

"But someone was here to leave this note. Very recently too."

The king frowned. "Ah?"

"Yes. See here? The ink is smudged a bit. And here is a mark left by the finger that made the smudge: your own thumb." Jim caught the king's hand and showed the man the ink stain that was plainly visible on his right thumb.

Stepanko laughed and gave vent to a word that even James West recognized as a Pterovnian oath. "Amazing, Mr West! Then I myself smudged the letter when I opened it? Indeed, my friend, there is nothing that escapes your attention, I see!"

"Exactly. Nothing, Your Majesty. And there is nothing that will stop or hinder me from finding out exactly what became of Mireje Gorashko."

"Gorashche," the king corrected automatically. "She bears the feminine form of the name. You realize, though," he added, eying Jim West intently, "that there is in fact one thing that will stop you from investigating further."

"What is that?"

Stepanko took leisurely sip of his drink before replying. "Me. If I order you to stand down and stop investigating, you will of course obey me."

Jim met the king's eyes steadily. "And why would you ever give me such an order, Your Majesty? Don't you want Mireje found?"

The man gave a sudden chuckle. "Oh, but with all my heart, yes! But these kidnappers! They abscond with my bride in the middle of the night, and now they leave this note upon my very own desk in my very own office, into which they have come by what means? Magic? They are invisible, these kidnappers, omniscient, for they know of talk even I have heard very little of yet. Omnipresent for all I know, able to see what we are doing at every moment. Why," he added, staring suddenly at Jim, "among the kidnappers' number might be anyone here in the palace, even you! So you see," and he nodded at the letter still in Jim's hand, "if they deliver to me another such missive and in it demand that all investigation stop, then all investigation shall stop. I cannot in any way risk Mireshche's safety."

"You are a king and this is your country," said Jim, slipping both letter and envelope into his jacket pocket, "but keep in mind that I am an American and not one of your subjects. I may not feel myself bound to obey your every royal decree."

"True, true," Stepanko agreed and sipped his drink again. "But let me remind you, Mr West, that you are my guest, and I have many possible places in which to accommodate your presence. You may, of course, continue to reside in the suite that has been assigned to you and Mr Gordon here in the New Palace. Or failing that, I am sure we can find room for you in the garizchezí of the Old Palace instead, my old friend." A little smirk curled the king's lips.

"Garizchezí meaning the dungeons, I take it," Jim countered. "Where I'll be roommates with another old friend of yours, with Capt Koloshko?" He saw the liquid in the king's glass slosh by a tiny amount. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll definitely keep that in mind. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more investigating to do." And Jim walked out of the office, right past Capt Andreshko just outside the door.

…

As Princess Gina Carlotta turned her lovely young face towards him expectantly, Artie took her hand. "I will tell you what's going on, Your Highness," he said, "but you must keep in mind that the king himself has ordered that no news be given out except that the wedding has been delayed, so whatever I tell you, you must keep it in complete confidence."

She nodded. "I understand."

"The reason the wedding won't take place today is that Baroness Mireje has disappeared."

"Dis… disappeared! But what do you mean? Where is she?" Suddenly, eyes widening with horror, Gina Carlotta's hand clutched at her throat. "Oh no! No, has she been kidnapped as I was? Oh, but… but surely her brother is not the same sort of man as mine!"

"No, no, not hardly," Artemus assured her.

"Is a ransom demanded?"

"Yes," said Artie, "but don't worry about that. King Stepanko is handling everything." Or not handling everything, he just barely managed not to say.

"But how terrible! I must speak to His Highness and assure him that Albania stands by Pterovnia in this hour of distress. If he has need of anything — anything! — we will surely supply it!"

"That's very kind of you, Highness, but remember: you're not even supposed to know. What the king wants most is for everyone to keep the events to themselves in, uh…" Thinking quickly, Artie spun a small lie for her. "…in the hopes that the culprits will give themselves away by knowing too much."

"Oh. Oh, yes, that makes sense. Yes, I will keep quiet. Oh, but I wonder…" A troubled look crept into her eyes.

"You wonder what, Highness?" Artie asked quickly.

"Oh… Perhaps it is nothing. Our embassy is on the edge of the old city, and my window looks out over the surrounding open fields. Last night I heard a sound, or thought I did. The sound of a horse being ridden away across the fields. It must have been well past midnight when this occurred."

"A horse? Just one?"

She gave it some thought. "Yes. Yes, only one horse. Which means it must have had nothing to do with the kidnapping, yes? For there would have been at least two horses, would there not? One for the kidnapper and one for the baroness." She frowned. "Or else a carriage or some other conveyance in which to spirit her away, such as I was transported in during…" She gave a shudder, followed by an embarrassed smile. "Oh, but I have no wish to dredge up weary memories of my own ordeal. Poor Mireje! I should go and see Lady Anje at least. She must be frantic with worry, and surely she will not tattle on me to the king that I have cajoled the truth out of you. But thank you so much for confiding in me, Mr Gordon! I will be careful not to, ah, spill the beans on you. Au revoir, my new friend!" She offered her hand to Artie once more, and as soon as he had removed the chair from under the doorknob, she hurried off through the corridors of the palace to find Lady Anje.

More updates to tell Jim, Artie thought as he put the chair away. He set off to find the king's office.

…

Milling crowds wandered the halls of the National Museum, apparently whiling away the time until they would know more clearly whether there would be a royal wedding today or not. Jim heard plenty of rumors new and old as he made his way through the exhibits, getting an idea of the layout of the Old Palace, paying particular attention to the positions and movements of the guards.

Eventually he came across a room displaying a collection of beautiful antiques vases, the walls lined with magnificent tapestries. And in one wall of this room was a door constructed of large, heavy wooden beams. Beside the door was mounted a sign bearing a message written solely in Pterovnian. Jim studied it briefly, noting the word garizchezí, which he recognized from his recent conversation with the king: dungeons. Which meant he'd found the right place. Curiously, the lower half of the sign read "1 Krufko."

Money? Jim wondered. Something about the dungeons cost money? Was it possible that they sold tours of the dungeons?

Well, what Jim had in mind was a private meeting with a certain resident of the garizchezí, not a conversation held while a gaggle of tourists looked on. After a quick glance around to assure himself that he was alone, Jim slipped the lock pick from its little pocket under his lapel and made short work of the lock. Once that was done, he dragged open the door and disappeared through it into the drafty, musty stairwell beyond.

No sooner was the door shut behind James West than a somewhat scruffy-looking man in a mud-splotched green coat peeked out from behind one of the tapestries. "Ah, the blue-eyed American — he has blocked himself in!" he snickered to himself, then reached for the curtains of the nearest window to close and open them again three times.

End of Act Two