Act Four, Part Three

The sight of Koch running toward him with a sword in hand was not something Jim was particularly thrilled to see. Artie was only a couple of yards behind the German, hollering out, "Nein!" and "Halt!" and other such things, along with the plea of "Bitte!"

Koch was plainly ignoring the spurious Herr Kutman, for he just kept coming. Jim at the moment had a more immediate concern, since two of the minions with knives were converging on him as well. Realizing he might be able to kill not just two birds but three with a single stone, Jim grabbed both minions, clonked their heads together, then spun the pair around and shoved them toward Herr Koch.

Koch's grin was magnificent; curious that the man always looked taller and happier when he had a sword in hand. With a tidy flickering of his wrist, he disarmed both knifemen, sending their puny blades scattering into parts unknown, then gave one a thump on the head with the hilt of his sword. Koch made a polite "after you" gesture to Jim regarding the other man and Jim, his eyebrows rising, obligingly knocked the second man out cold with an uppercut.

With a cordial bow of his head and a click of his heels, Koch said, "Guten Tag, Herr West. Möchten Sie, dass ich Ihnen helfe?"

"He's offering to help you, Jim!" Artie called as he hurried to Jim's side.

Jim eyed Koch for a second, taking the measure of the man, then nodded. And to Artie he said, "The professor might need a hand there."

"Right, Jim." Artie clapped his partner on the shoulder, gave Koch a sharp look - the man had better not turn out to be a backstabber! - and hurried back to the carpeted area.

But not to the professor's aid, not yet. A glance at the table showed Artie that something was missing: the wooden case. A second glance pinpointed that the one man most interested in that case was no longer in view. Artie looked around hurriedly.

There! Memphis had wedged himself and the case into the space between two stacks of barrels. "All right, come out of there!" Artie ordered.

"No! Never!" Memphis bleated defiantly. He scooted himself backwards, evading Artie's attempts to grab him and haul him out into the open again. "You won't take me alive!"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic!" Artie returned. He planted his fists on his hips and glared down at the skulking Memphis. With a shake of his head, Artie turned and walked away.

Five steps later he whirled back and tossed a small glass orb into the space where Memphis was hiding. The bauble shattered, sending a cloud of saffron fumes right into the little man's face. Coughing, choking, Memphis tried to leap to his feet and run.

But it was too late for that. He keeled over, knocking down both stacks he'd been crouched behind.

Artie wafted the smoke away, then checked the man's pulse and nodded. "Taken alive, yes. Taken awake, no. You'll keep for now I think." He picked up the case and carried it back to the table.

Jim and Koch had been holding their own against the remaining minions and steadily reducing their ranks. The ones armed with sticks and knives had fallen by the wayside first, and now there remained only those with guns. Jim was behind a crate, firing and ducking as the minions fired at him. Where Koch had gotten off to, Jim wasn't entirely sure.

Ah! One of the bullets grazed Jim's upper arm. He clapped his left hand over the wound - a slight one, he assessed - and took aim on the minion.

Missed. The minion grinned and leveled his revolver at Jim. There was a…

No, not a gunshot but a thwock. The minion yelped and dropped his gun. Surprisingly there was a knife sticking out of his arm.

Koch now appeared from beyond some boxes, sword in one hand, two more knives in the other. Politely he offered one of the knives to Jim.

Jim shook his head and continued firing at the greatly dwindled group of minions. Strange character, that Koch. He had thrown the knife to wound, not kill. Even with his sword he had been careful to deliberately cause only a minimum of harm to the minions, just enough to incapacitate.

Another minion went down, this one with a knife in his leg. One of the final two snatched up his fallen comrade's gun and went on firing.

Artie was just setting down the case when a shapely figure emerged from beneath the table. "I don't know what to make of you, Gaspar," said Miss Ecstasy La Joie. "You seem to have decided to switch over to the side of the angels." She smiled, and suddenly there was a gun in her hand. "I'll take the Phoenix now."

Artie held up the case. "Oh, you mean this?" He sighed. "And I had a glass-topped display table just waiting for it!"

She fixed him with a frosty look and one at a time dropped the matching keys for the wooden case onto the table. "Don't try to trick me, my dear Gaspar. We both know the Phoenix that's in that case is a clever fake. It's the one in here," and she seized the valise, "that I want."

"What? No!" cried Artie, keeping up the ruse.

"Now, Gaspar," she said sweetly, drawing back the hammer of her gun, "please don't make me shoot you."

"I… I…" He fell silent, then raised his hands and backed off. "All right, my dear, you win."

"Of course I do." Still keeping the gun on him, she stepped away, taking the valise with her. "I'll be in touch, Gaspar, to let you know when the next round of bidding takes place." She headed for the door, then paused. "That is, if I decide to include you in it."

She walked toward the door, ignoring the professor and the countess who were still struggling together, she with one cuff on her wrist, he trying to catch her other wrist to cuff it as well. Without breaking her stride, Ecstasy fired a single bullet through the door lock, shattering it, and walked on out and away, never once looking back.

Another gunshot rang out, and the final minion slumped to the floor, holding his bleeding wrist. Jim rushed for the door as Koch instead strolled toward the table.

As Jim was pointing out, "There are carriages out back," Koch was leisurely wiping the blade of his sword clean.

And as Montague added, "Yes, and she knows how to drive them," Koch sheathed his sword and somehow managed to store it once more within the carpetbag. Leaving the bag on the table, he then wandered toward the group by the door, noting how, with the disappearance of Ecstasy La Joie, all the fight had departed from the countess and she was finally fully handcuffed.

"Well," Artie was saying, "the carriages don't matter. Whenever our Miss La Joie stops long enough to have a look inside the valise, she'll find the little surprise I put in there when I took the real Phoenix out. She won't get very far."

There was a deep-throated chuckle as a voice West and Gordon had come to know quite well by now spoke up. "Very good, Herr Gordon! Or to put it another way, sehr gut, Herr Kutman."

The voice was familiar, but the fact that it had just spoken in English was not. Jim, Artie, and the professor as well all turned to see Koch standing straight and tall, his posture not the least bit hunched, his expression not by any means sullen, and his cheeks no longer hidden beneath the heavy red beard. With an amused twinkle in his eye, Koch stroked the goatee that remained, then held out his hand, the other firmly ensconced in his coat pocket. The rigid outline protruding through the cloth of his pocket showed plainly that the hand was holding a weapon upon them.

"And now, meine Herren," he said as pleasantly as if asking them for the time of day, "you will hand over to me the Phoenix." Cutting his eyes toward Artie, Koch cocked an eyebrow and added, "Bitte."