Act One, Part One

"You, ah…" said Memphis, tugging nervously at his starched collar, "you know each other?"

Her eyes aflame, the countess whirled on the little man and stormed, "Why did you not inform me that the men sent by your government to escort the Phoenix across the country would be these?" She glared at them all, and never had the figurative phrase "looking daggers" seemed so literal.

"Your-your pardon, my lady," stammered Memphis. "Until they met the ship just now, I did not know."

West and Gordon didn't bother with going through the middleman but addressed the countess directly. "What are you doing here?" said West.

"Yes," said Gordon, "how is it that you're traipsing about here free as a bird instead of locked up in prison back home in Bosnia?"

"Lock-locked up!" exclaimed Memphis.

"Oh yes," Artie went on. "Didn't Her Ladyship tell you about her previous excursion to the United States, when she hired a group of train robbers to help her go after her dear friend Count Draja's hidden treasure?"

The woman scoffed and tried to refute his words, but Artie only raised his voice and drowned hers out. "Now granted," he said, "your hired thugs turned on you, intending to take the loot for themselves. And yet once I had neutralized them all, delivering you from their hands, how did you reward me but by threatening my life?"

"Threat…!" Memphis gaped as he turned toward the countess, his bulgy eyes bulging more than ever.

"I did nothing of the kind!" the countess said regally.

"Yeah? Well, in my book, lady, holding a shotgun on a man is threatening his life. And you tried to get the drop on Jim as well."

"I'm very surprised you aren't serving a long prison sentence back home in Bosnia, Countess," said Jim. "You were after Count Draja's hidden money not to restore it to your country, but to take it for yourself."

Her head held high, the countess seated herself regally on the divan. "And yet I did restore it to my country," she said. "I…"

"Yes," Artie broke in, "after you were caught red-handed and realized there was no way you would be able make off with it!"

She leveled a cold glance at him. "How uncouth are Americans, always interrupting! As I was saying, it was my dear Draja that the authorities back home wanted, in comparison to whom I was merely - how do you Americans put it? small potatoes? And so once the treasure from the American West was in their hands, as well as the locations of a few of dear Draja's, shall we say, private museums in and around Sarajevo, why I was accounted the savior of Bosnia's cultural heritage, a patroness of the arts." She smiled and with a genial bow of her head added, "In which capacity you gentlemen find me today."

"Patroness!" spluttered Artie.

Mr Memphis, though, gave a sigh of relief and smiled. "Ah then. You see, gentlemen, you have misjudged my colleague. She found and restored the treasures of her nation, and has been rewarded with their gratitude, as is fitting."

"What? Didn't you hear a word we said? She's not…" Artie subsided only because Jim caught his eye and gave a small shake of his head. Artie muttered on for a moment under his breath, but he knew Jim was right: Memphis had chosen what he wished to believe, and no amount of mere words would be able to talk him out of it. He would have to see the countess' true colors for himself. "And may the price of his misplaced confidence not be the loss of the Phoenix!" Artie murmured.

"The Phoenix," said Jim, picked up on Artie's private grumblings. "May we see it now?"

"Oh, but of course!" said Memphis, glad of the change of topic. The little man hurried across the room and flung back a curtain to reveal the door of a safe embedded into the wall. He worked the combination with practiced ease, then opened the heavy metal door. Within was a large square case. He grasped the handle with both hands and lifted the case, bringing it to a low table in between two sofas.

Memphis set down the case and took a key out of his pocket. "My lady?" he said, and the countess too produced a key, this one from the dainty silk reticule dangling from her wrist. Memphis fitted the two keys into twin keyholes on the case, turned them in opposite directions, and opened the case. Inside…

Ah, inside was a thick cushion lined with satin, a second cushion just like it packed within the lid. Something round lay on the lower cushion, covered over with a satin cloth, white linen gloves lying to either side of the unseen object. Memphis took up the gloves and donned them. Then, with a look on his face that was nigh on veneration, he lifted away the deep purple cloth, whispering huskily, "Gentlemen, behold!"

Both West and Gordon found themselves leaning forward to get a good look. The countess as well hovered over the case, her breath abated, a rapturous gleam in her eye - unless, of course, the look lighting her face was less of a noble character and more of an avaricious one. As for Memphis, after assuring himself that the immaculate white gloves were pulled down snugly over his hands, he reached into the case and lifted out the object along with a second, smaller item that nestled by its side, each one in its own form-fitted niche in the lower cushion.

The smaller item was a golden key, its bow studded with rubies and garnets. The larger was something roughly the size and shape of an ostrich egg, also made of gold, with swirls and eddies of tiny rubies chasing all over its surface in playful patterns.

Mr Memphis turned the orb over to reveal that it had a flat base about two inches in diameter. Centered in the flat base was a keyhole. Memphis fitted the ornate key into that slot and cranked the key around once, twice, thrice. He removed the key and gently placed the orb flat side down on the table, then stepped back.

The two agents weren't quite sure what to expect, only that a phoenix would be involved. A light sound of gears turning, almost musical in its delicacy, met their ears. For a long moment nothing happened, then abruptly the orb cracked open, its golden shell splitting six ways into scallop-edged segments like the petals of a flower, each one slowly falling outwards to expose an elegant little bird within, its body greenish-white and inlaid with amethysts.

"White gold?" asked Artie, glancing up.

Memphis shook his head. "No, electrum. Do watch, Mr Gordon!"

As they all watched and the unseen gears continued to mesh softly, the bird lifted its head and spread out its wings, its beak opening and closing. Memphis again urged them to "Watch!" as a ring of tongues of flame sprang up all around the bird, little rippled blades of red gold, looking like so many tiny flaming swords surrounding the bird. The flames grew taller and taller, becoming broader at their bases, curving up and over the bird until at last the flames joined up together into a solid shell again that hid the bird completely from view.

"Well, that's very interesting…" Artie began.

"Watch!"

The light music of the gears still clicked on. Suddenly, with a crack that made them all jump, the shell split open anew, revealing a different bird, tinier, and made all of silver encrusted with sapphires. It lifted its head and wings as the first bird had done, then bowed its head and folded its wings around itself as if going to sleep.

Slowly the backmost petal of the outer shell began to rise up to its original position again, followed by the two petals flanking it, then the two flanking them. Last of all the petal in the center front came up as well, joining with the rest to enclose the reborn phoenix. With a last soft click the orb regained its smooth round appearance and the gears fell silent.

There was a collective sigh as Memphis and the countess let out their breaths. "Exquisite," murmured the man from the Smithsonian. "Do you not agree, gentlemen?"

"Very nice," said Jim. "Artie?"

His partner reached for the orb. "May I, ah…?" he said.

Memphis started slightly. "May you what?"

"Have the gloves so I can inspect the Phoenix, of course." Artie waited, holding out his hand, as Mr Memphis reluctantly pulled off the gloves and passed them over. The little fellow watched, worry shining from his large dark eyes as Artie lifted the Phoenix in freshly gloved hands and turned it over, eying its outer surface. The agent produced from a pocket both a large magnifying glass and a jeweler's loupe, the latter of which he screwed into one eye. Silently he looked over the orb for several minutes before laying it gently into its spot in the case and spreading the purple cloth over it once more.

He gave a soft whistle, then glanced at Jim and nodded.

Jim took charge of the case now, waiting until Artie had replaced the gloves inside before snapping the case shut with the priceless art treasure and its key inside. "Thank you, Mr Memphis, Countess, we'll take it from here. Meet us at the Wanderer in the railroad yards first thing in the morning and we'll be off to Washington."

"Oh, but…"

West picked up the case and turned to face the woman. "Yes, Countess?"

She lifted her chin regally. "I must accompany the Phoenix wherever it goes!"

"And you will, when we set out with it aboard the Wanderer tomorrow," said Jim.

"Yes, and for now, it will be locked away securely in the safe at Colonel Richmond's office," added Artie. "Ah… your key, please?"

She shot him a glare. "Why?"

"Because the Phoenix is in our custody now."

"The Phoenix, and all that pertains to it," added Jim. He held out his free hand. "The key now, Countess."

She gaped for a moment, holding tightly to the silken purse she had stored it in. "Mr Memphis!" she exclaimed at last.

"And yours as well," Artie said, turning to the official of the Smithsonian.

The little man was also gaping. "But…" he said, beginning to protest.

"And we'll see you on the train tomorrow."

Slowly, reluctantly, Memphis nodded and relinquished his key. Obviously displeased, the countess followed suit.

"Thank you," said Artie genially. He pocketed one key and James the other, then Artie pulled out a pad of paper, swiftly wrote out a note, and passed pad and pencil to Mr Memphis. "If you'll both sign this, please."

"What is it?"

"A receipt, of course, showing that you and the countess have entrusted the Phoenix to our care."

Memphis turned his large and soulful eyes upon the agent for a long moment, then nodded with a sigh and signed. The countess gave Artie a long glare before acquiescing to sign as well. Artie then pulled the sheet from the pad with a cheerful, "There we go! One copy for you…" He handed it to Memphis. "…and one for us." He put away the pad. "And now, good day to you both." Artie put on his hat and touched the brim of it to the pair, then went and held the door for Jim.

Their trip back off the ship was quicker than the one boarding it. As they stepped off the gangplank, Jim stopped and shifted the case from one hand to the other, making a show of flexing his fingers.

"Following us?" murmured Artie.

"Oh yeah," said Jim. "Memphis and the countess both." He shifted the case back and they moved on.

Artie contrived to sneak a clandestine peek. "Hmm. And they're together," he said.

Jim gave a small nod. "For now, at least. Recognize anyone else?"

"If you're referring to the gentleman in the slouch hat across the street ahead of us, holding his cigarette in the European fashion…"

"I might be."

"Right. So there's Herr Koch putting in his appearance on Mr Kutman's behalf. Which, James my boy, just goes to show that we're attracting all the right attention, hmm? I wonder if anyone else will be joining in the parade."

As they reached the street, Artie raised an arm and hailed a cab. Shortly afterwards, the two of them were being driven along, heading for Col Richmond's office. If they suspected their driver of being yet another party interested in the Phoenix, they gave no sign of it.

And if they suspected their driver of being not a he but a well-disguised she, well, they gave no sign of that either.