Tag

A tall figure dressed in an overcoat and slouch hat, carrying a large carpetbag in his hand, walked into the consulate and stepped up to the receptionist's desk where he asked to see the consul. "Und mach schnell," he added.

The receptionist jumped to his feet. "Jawohl, Herr Vogel!" he cried and hurried deeper into the building.

Shortly Vogel was ushered into the main office of the consul. "Guten Tag, Vogel," he greeted jovially as Vogel saluted him with a nod of the head and click of the heels. "Und der Phönix?" he added hopefully.

Both men continuing their conversation in their native German, Vogel placed the carpetbag on the desk and said, "It is right in here."

"Ah, but His Majesty will be so pleased!" the consul exulted. "May I… may I see it?"

"Naturally." Vogel produced a handkerchief and held it ready to handle the beautiful treasure. Gently he shook the orb from its padded pouch and set it on the desk. Pulling out the ornate golden key as well, he fitted it into the slot on the bottom and wound the Phoenix up. He then set it down and stepped back.

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.

As they watched and the unseen gears continued to mesh softly, 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.

They waited. The six petals of the outer orb were still splayed out on the desk. The cycle did not seem to be complete, and yet the men became aware that the clicking sound had ceased. "Is that it?" the consul ventured.

Vogel frowned. "That does not seem right. It should finish as it began, closed. And yet the gears are no longer…" He reached out to prod the inner shell with a finger.

Abruptly, as the sound of gears cranking began again, the six slivers of the outer orb flew up and snapped themselves shut.

Herr Vogel snatched his hand away, giving vent to a Teutonic oath. "Someone could lose a finger that way!" he exclaimed as he tightly wrapped up his index finger in the handkerchief he had used only minutes earlier to handle the Phoenix.

The gears were still clicking, and curiously, now music began to play. The consul frowned. "I do not recall any mention in the official descriptions of the Phoenix that it would act as a music box."

"Nor do I," said Vogel. He leaned closer, being very careful to keep his hands - and, indeed, his face - well out of reach of the golden orb. The music though. It was familiar. He had heard it somewhere before. What was it…?

And then the orb cracked open again. The backmost petal split away from the rest in order to emit a tiny flag with sapphire blue in the top corner and horizontal stripes of ruby-red alternating with pearly-white making up the rest of it. The little flag waved back and forth merrily in time with the music.

The consul and Herr Vogel's eyes met over the top of the musical bauble as it continued to fill the air around them with:

O Columbia! the gem of the ocean,
The home of the brave and the free,
The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
A world offers homage to thee…

And Herr Vogel gnashed his teeth as he vigorously cursed the names of James West and Artemus Gordon.

…

"Well, gentlemen," said Col Richmond as he settled into his chair in his office and indicated some paperwork on the desk top, "I'm pleased to see your final report on your adventure here with the Florentine Phoenix before you head off tomorrow morning to deliver the little item to the Smithsonian. I rather imagine neither one of you will be sad to see the last of that golden bird, hmm?"

"No sir," said Artemus heartily, answering for himself and Jim.

Richmond took up the report and scanned it. "Now you say you found no trace of Miss La Joie?"

"No, Colonel," said Jim. "Only the professor's valise."

"Right," Artie added. "The knock-out bomb I had secreted inside the valise had in fact gone off, but somehow she managed to get away unscathed."

Richmond shook his head. "Pity. Pity about Herr Vogel and his diplomatic immunity too. However," and he turned to some other paperwork on his desk. "I've no doubt you'll be interested in these telegrams." He took up the first and passed it to Artie, the second to Jim, and kept the third for himself.

"Ah!" said Artie, looking over his. "It seems that the government of Bosnia is looking forward eagerly to the return of Countess Zorana to face trial for her part in the plot to steal the Phoenix."

"And London requests Gaspar Kutman be sent there as soon as the doctor clears him to travel. They have a few outstanding warrants against him. I suppose the State Department has no objections, Colonel?"

"None whatsoever, Jim."

"And the final telegram, Colonel? I suppose it's regarding our friend Mr Memphis?"

"Correct, Artemus. In his case, it's the government of Egypt requesting he be returned there to face charges in regards to… Oh, good evening, Professor Montague… in regards to his smuggling of those five ancient golden mice. They want… Ah, is something wrong, Professor?"

For Montague had suddenly turned crimson and was rubbing at the back of his neck. "Ah, well… yes, Colonel, there is something… well, not exactly wrong. I've been studying the mice a bit more now that I have them in a proper lab, you see. I hadn't the equipment to do a complete analysis when they first came into my hands, you understand, and… well…"

Every eye was on the professor. Then Jim and Artie turned a glance at each other. "What you're saying then, Professor," Jim stated flatly, "is that the mice are fake."

"Ah, well… yes. Yes, on further scrutiny, I would estimate that those particular mice were fabricated not more than fifty years ago. So, yes, they are fraudulent."

Artie snickered and shook his head, his eyes dancing. "Oh no! Poor old Memphis, after all he's been through for all those years, and it turns out his antiquities are phony!"

"Makes you almost feel sorry for him," Richmond commented.

"Almost," Jim echoed. "But considering that he tried to attack Artie over those mice…" and he shook his head firmly.

"Well, what's to be done then?" asked Montague. "As the mice are spurious, what of Memphis?"

"He was still deep in the plan to steal the Phoenix," said Jim.

"And he's still a smuggler, albeit a pretty bad one," added Artie, still chuckling.

"Oh, it's very simple, gentlemen," said the Colonel in a voice that announced he'd made up his mind. "As per this telegram and the wishes of both the Egyptian government and our own, we shall send Mr Memphis and his little darlings on the next ship back to Egypt…" He paused and glanced up at them all, "and from there we just let the Egyptians sort it all out for themselves."

"Sounds good to me," said Jim.

"Hear, hear!" added Artie. "I'll drink to that." And he turned to the colonel's liquor cabinet to pour them all a little brandy.

"A toast!" he said as he handed round the glasses. "To the end of another successful case."

They clinked glasses all around, and just as they were about to indulge themselves in the brandy, Jim added, "And to a safe and uneventful trip with the little bird to the Smithsonian. Because who knows how many other thieves and brigands are awaiting us all along the way to Washington?"

Artie groaned as that fresh set of worries assaulted his brain. "Oh no. No no no no no. Oh, Jim, you had to bring that up! You just had to!"

"Mm-hmm!" said Jim with a roguish grin, and then he sampled his brandy.

FIN

In my little homage to Dashiell Hammett:

Jim had the role of Sam Spade,
Artie was Miles Archer (but incapacitated, not killed - ok, and not really incapacitated either),
Both Countess Zorana AND Ecstasy La Joie portrayed Brigid O'Shaunessy,
Bartholomew Memphis was Joel Cairo, as a couple of people nearly called him,
Gaspar Kutman was spoonered from Kasper Gutman,
Merle Koch aka Col Richard Horst aka Herr Vogel was the sullen Wilmer Cook, and
The Florentine Phoenix was the Maltese Falcon.