Chapter Ten

Still stressed as they waited for the arrival of the agents, Snakes dug around in his pockets for a cigar. Noticing, and realizing by now what he was doing, Arte sighed. "You still haven't broke that habit?"

"I mostly have," Snakes replied, a bit defensively. "It's just that when I'm real stressed, I . . . what the . . . ?!" He pulled a small disc out of his pocket and stared at it in shock. "I didn't put this here!"

Arte took it from him, stunned. He recognized what it was almost instantly after their other adventures. His stomach dropped.

"What is it?!" Snakes demanded.

Arte sighed, heavily. ". . . It's a homing beacon," he said. "They were tracking you."

Snakes paled. ". . . Deadeye must have slipped it on me when he was torturing me!" he realized in horror. "They knew all along where we were when we came here!"

Arte nodded. "I'm afraid so." And he snarled in furious dismay. "Why oh why didn't I think to look for anything like this?!"

"You're not used to it back in your time," Snakes said weakly. He ran a shaking hand down his face. "It's my fault they found us! It's my fault Lafe was . . ."

"Now don't start that!" Arte gripped his shoulders. "You've been a victim tonight. Nothing is your fault! If anyone's to blame, it's Count Manzeppi and his gang."

"Yeah." Finally finding the cigars, Snakes took his lighter and lit one up.

Arte just sighed and slumped back. Under these circumstances, he wouldn't protest further.

". . . Strange, isn't it. . . . How far we've come, I mean."

Arte looked over at Snakes. He was studying the cigar, but looked far away.

"Us standing here worrying together. . . . Me blaming myself for somebody being hurt instead of deliberately causing it to save myself. . . . Manzeppi thought I'd go back to that. And yet . . . he must've been thinking that there was a chance I wouldn't. Otherwise, he wouldn't have put that thing on me."

"The Count always thinks of every possibility," Arte said. "Or he usually does. It seems he didn't even consider the idea that you might try to shoot him instead of us."

"Heh. I guess he wouldn't, after all the times I was such a sick coward. You know, it wasn't even the dying that scared me so much. It was the thought of being tortured after death. I couldn't go back to that. I couldn't. . . ." Snakes shook his head.

"Pinto tortured you for three years," Arte said quietly. "It's completely understandable you wouldn't be able to face the thought of that again. I'm sure that had you been examined by modern doctors right after your revival, they would have found you were suffering from an extreme PTSD and more. No, it's not an excuse for the things you did, but it's an explanation. I'm sure you weren't emotionally or mentally well. And that does make a difference, Snakes."

"And he almost broke me again," Snakes muttered.

"The keyword being 'almost,'" Arte said. "You didn't give in. You wouldn't let that happen to you again."

"And Lafe . . . he was so tempted by the thought of wealth and jewels when he first came here, but he didn't wanna do anything to betray Coley," Snakes said. "If the Count found us because of m- . . . that . . . that homing thing, maybe Lafe being tempted by the chicken didn't have anything to do with it. Maybe he wasn't going against Coley's wishes there."

"Honestly? I don't think he was," Arte said. "I'll bet he was trying to do the right thing and the Count and his men overpowered him."

"I wonder what Coley thinks." Snakes leaned back, puffing on the cigar as he stared off at the ceiling.

"Judging from what you said, he must blame the Count and not Lafe," Arte said.

"Or he blames both of them but the Count is the only one he can do anything about," Snakes said.

Arte sighed. "I don't think Coley would hurt Lafe even if he thought Lafe got too greedy tonight. Maybe in the past he would have, but not now. Not after all they've been through here."

"Yeah. . . . You're probably right." Snakes pushed away from the door. "I think they're coming."

Arte paused. It definitely sounded like a helicopter coming close to the building. He opened the door just in time to see it start to descend and then land on the helicopter pad. "I'll go out to meet them," he said. "You don't have to come, Snakes."

Finally Snakes sighed. "Oh, I'll come. This ain't easy for you either. You shouldn't have to face it alone."

Arte had to smile. "Let's go then."

It wasn't really a surprise to see that the agents were Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin. Arte smiled more, genuinely happy to see them despite the grim circumstances. "Hello!" he called.

"So we meet again," Napoleon said.

"I only wish it was under better circumstances," Arte sighed.

"As do we," Illya said. He frowned, eyeing Lafe's body with a serious and still somewhat disbelieving look. "Are you positive this isn't merely a statue meant to trick all of you?"

"Frankly, no," Arte said. "But I don't see how the Count would have had time to whip it up, nor do I think he would be foolish enough to do something to further get our ire up after . . . other things he did tonight." He sighed, rubbing a finger over his brow. "And Jim and I really did see Gerda Sharff transformed into gold in the past."

"Hmm." Illya didn't look convinced. But he started setting up the equipment.

"What if he's dead, though?" Snakes said. "Even if this whole thing really is true, you wouldn't be able to hear anything in that case."

"I will test the gold to determine if it was previously organic matter," Illya replied.

Snakes grimaced. "And if it doesn't say it was?"

"Then we will have to look at the possibility that this is and has only ever been a statue and Lafe is somewhere else," Napoleon said. "Could there be another villain involved who would have had time and motivation to 'whip this up'?"

Arte sighed, scratching his head. "Well, the folks at Majestic Studios could certainly do it, of course. But I can't come up with one reason why they would want to."

"It's a possibility we'll have to look into, at least," Napoleon said. "And do you have any idea where this Count Manzeppi is?"

"Unfortunately not," Arte said, "but James West and Ray Norman are looking for him."

"And Coley is too, unless they got him already," Snakes gulped.

"We're still hoping they didn't," Arte said. He looked to Illya. "Any luck?"

"I am not receiving any readings," Illya said, "which could be for several reasons." He took out another device and began running it up and down the still form.

"And this is supposed to tell if the gold was once . . . not gold?" Arte said.

"Yes, if it works correctly," Illya replied.

"Which it always has before," Napoleon interjected.

Snakes wrung his hands, waiting tensely for the answer.

When Illya leaned back, his expression was unreadable. He frowned, studying the screen again.

"Well?!" Arte demanded.

". . . The results are inconclusive," Illya said.

Arte threw his hands in the air. "So what does that mean, pray tell?!"

"It means we need to run more tests," Napoleon said. "But . . . I do recommend finding this chicken as soon as possible."

"Tell us something we don't know," Arte sighed.

Snakes was deep in thought, one hand to his chin. ". . . I know this'll probably sound crazy and all, but . . . is any change always permanent? I mean, some fairytales and the like give the people say, a day or two to fix things before it sets."

"I . . . honestly have no idea," Napoleon mused.

"If this chicken is indeed the fabled philosopher's stone, there should be a way to reverse what was done no matter how much time passes," Illya said. "It's science, not black magic."

"Forgive me, but isn't alchemy both?" Arte said.

"If one believes in black magic," Illya deadpanned.

". . . Although strangely enough, one text claims that the knowledge of how to make the philosopher's stone came directly from God to Adam," Arte remarked.

Snakes snorted. "That's a new one on me. This kinda power seems anything but heavenly."

"Then there's the myths of King Midas," Napoleon prompted.

"Yes," Arte mused. "Wasn't there something about a divine body of water that changed everything back to normal? . . . Yes, there was, at least in one version!"

"That's just a story, though," Snakes said. "Unless you're thinkin' maybe the water's really for real."

"Myths do have truth to them," Arte said. "Now that we've encountered the philosopher's stone, how can we say that this myth is entirely false?"

"It's not like we can go traipsing all over the place like Indiana Jones!" Snakes said. "We don't have time to be chasing down things that might only be fables!"

Arte suddenly started to smile. "No, we don't," he mused. "But maybe we don't need to. Snakes, my boy, we're going out to find the nearest church!"

"Eh?!" Snakes stared at him. "What the heck? You think any church would actually let me step one foot inside?!"

Arte sobered. "Yes, actually, I do. But that's not the point. I want to get some holy water and try pouring it on poor old Lafe. If a divine pool in the myth could fix the problem, wouldn't it seem that a bottle of divine water would have the same effect?"

". . . I guess," Snakes said slowly. "Maybe. If the thing about the water in the myth was true to begin with."

"And even if it isn't, holy water is in reality supposed to have amazing healing and protective and restorative properties," Arte said.

Illya looked skeptical at best. Napoleon, on the other hand, seemed encouraged. "Go find the water," he said. "We'll stay here and run a few more tests and keep the poor, misguided guests of this establishment from coming out and receiving a most unpleasant shock."

"Thank you," Arte said, steering Snakes back towards the door with hands on both shoulders. "We should be back soon."

Snakes went, but still looked reluctant. "You really think something like this is the solution?" he asked when they were alone.

"I think it's very definitely worth a try," Arte said in all seriousness.

"If you say so," Snakes said. "If God was going to do something, I'd think praying for it would be enough."

"Perhaps," Arte said. "But I don't think God expects people to sit around just waiting for Him to fix everything that goes wrong. Do you?"

Snakes shrugged. "I got no idea."

"Well, I happen to think God wants us to go as far as we can ourselves and then He'll make up the difference," Arte said. "So I'm going to try the holy water."

"Okay," Snakes said slowly. "But you could get it yourself. Why do you want me along?"

Arte smiled a bit. "To prove to you that you're welcome in a church," he said.

Snakes didn't quite know what to say to that.

xxxx

The longer Coley looked for Count Manzeppi, the angrier he got. His oldest friend was gone, killed in one of the most horrible ways Coley could imagine, and Manzeppi had been all too delighted to let Coley know all about it and why it had happened.

Had he really been so blind that he hadn't grasped the truth when he was looking right at it? He had trusted Lafe to do the right thing after being foolish enough to bring the chicken with him. Instead, it looked like he had put the gold first.

It wasn't like Lafe in the first place to not be cautious with a dangerous item. He had wanted to get away from Dr. Kirby long before Coley had wised up to what Lafe had already known, that Kirby was too dangerous to be around, even with the promise of wealth.

Had the thought of the philosopher's stone crumbled away all his common sense in the end? It wasn't every day that one found something that could make gold out of anything.

Including people. . . .

Coley slowed to a stop on the sidewalk. Maybe it would have tempted others to their destruction, but not Lafe. Lafe would have stayed loyal. Either Manzeppi thought otherwise or he had been deliberately trying to get Coley's goat by telling him that Lafe had chosen the gold over him.

Coley clenched a fist. He wouldn't dishonor Lafe by believing Lafe betrayed him. He would just bring the Count down for killing him.

He reached into his pocket for his phone and scowled. "Great, just great," he muttered. He had lost it somewhere. Ray would be going out of his mind with worry. And by now he had wandered far enough that who knew how long it would take him to get back to the hotel and retrieve his phone.

He looked around the streets. Payphones were almost obsolete these days. If he could find one, he'd use it. But more than likely, there weren't any to be found.

He swore under his breath. This was a wild goose chase anyway. He would go back and find Ray and the others and then they would figure out what to do next together.

He turned to go back . . . and walked headlong into some guy coming from the opposite direction.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" the guy snorted in half-drunk anger.

"Watch it yourself," Coley snapped. He was in no mood to roll over and turn the other cheek.

The guy's attention was almost immediately on something else anyway. "Holy moly," he gasped. "Do my eyes deceive me, or is that there building gold?!"

Coley whirled to look. There, standing out against the night sky, was a golden skyscraper. In fact, it was the very building he needed to get back to.

He was hastening towards it in the next instant. And to his annoyance, the drunk was following him.

"Now you just hold up, friend!" the guy snapped. "You aren't walking away from Malcolm Coulter after he pointed out a 24 karat gold building to you!"

Coley glanced over his shoulder. "Look," he said in annoyance, "this gold is nothing to mess with! It already turned a friend of mine into a statue. You want that to happen to you?!"

Malcolm blinked at him and then let out a drunken cackle. "Oh, so it's that kinda gold, is it?!"

"Yeah, friend," Coley growled. "I'm trying to stop the guy who's using it before the whole city's gold. So you just stay out of it!"

He started off again. But when he heard Malcolm's footsteps coming after him, he swore in aggravation and didn't even bother to look back.

"If you insist on this, you'd better not get in my way," he said. "Or my friends' ways."

"I just want some of this sweet, sweet gold," Malcolm said. "I'll stay out of it until the dust's all settled."

"Fine! Suit yourself!" Coley snapped. He didn't have the time or the patience for this.

Hopefully Jim and Arte could get rid of this creep when he found them again.

xxxx

Ray was a bundle of nerves the longer he and Jim searched with no results. They spoke with several of the hotel guests and employees, but no one had seen either Coley or Count Manzeppi. It seemed a completely hopeless cause. At last they left the hotel to begin the exhaustive work of combing the streets.

"Are you really going to ask Posey and her gang to help us look?" Ray asked.

Jim sighed. "I think I'll tell them what's going on, at least. We need more help looking, and even though by now our secret about time-traveling is out, I don't think most law enforcement here is gonna willingly accept our stories about the philosopher's stone."

"You're probably right," Ray relented in disgusted frustration.

"U.N.C.L.E. will help, but they probably can't spare any more agents than the ones they've already sent," Jim said. "And they're trying to do what they can for Lafe right now."

"Lafe . . ." Ray shook his head. "I still can't believe it. . . ."

"After what we saw happen to Gerda, we don't have much choice except to believe it," Jim said.

"I know, I know." Ray rubbed his forehead.

"At least it's encouraging he didn't disappear like Gerda did," Jim said. "I wanna think that means something."

"But to get him back after . . . this. . . . That seems almost more unbelievable than it happening to him in the first place," Ray said morosely.

"If there is any way, Arte and the U.N.C.L.E. agents will find it," Jim said.

He took out his phone, dialing the number Lucrece had called them from earlier that night. Arte had passed it along to him before they had known they would really need it so soon.

"Hello?" Lucrece sounded annoyed to have been called so late, and she was most likely even more annoyed if her caller I.D. was showing her who was calling.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Jim deadpanned.

"What do you want, Mr. West?" Lucrece responded, not confirming or denying his query.

"Count Manzeppi is still at large, and he has something we've been trying to keep away from him," Jim said. "Long story short, things are turning to gold, including things that shouldn't be."

"Yes, we saw the news about the building," Lucrece said. "We all agreed that was unnatural."

Jim hesitated. ". . . It also looks like he turned Lafe to gold. Arte and I saw that happen to someone in the past, so we know it's possible."

"I'd thank you for the warning, Mr. West, but I know you wouldn't just be calling out of the goodness of your heart," Lucrece said. She sounded completely unsurprised by the morbid news.

Jim wasn't sure what he thought of that. "You're right," he said, and suddenly realized that he wasn't sure how to even address her now that she was married to Pinto. "We need to find Count Manzeppi before morning. He'll be spending the night turning things to gold, but by morning he'll probably depart for somewhere far away from here." He wouldn't care that he'd be leaving the movie production high and dry, surely, now that he had what he wanted. Part of Jim honestly wasn't sure of that, since the Count was a thespian and had some semblance of honor, but he didn't want to rely solely on the possibility that the man might stay.

"And you actually want us to help you in your search?" Now Lucrece sounded surprised and in disbelief.

"We need more eyes and ears to speed up the search," Jim said. "We know he has to be outside somewhere, but this is a big city. Coley's gone off gunning for him and we can't find him either."

"And what makes you think we'll help you?"

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Jim said with a calm smile. Sobering, he added, "The Count already involved you in his plans tonight. He might have more in mind for you."

"What would he possibly want with us?" Lucrece scoffed.

"It wouldn't be anything good," Jim said.

Lucrece sighed, considering that. ". . . We'll have a short board meeting and decide together."

"Make it really short," Jim cautioned. "There's not a lot of time before morning."

"I know. Goodnight, Mr. West." Lucrece hung up.

Ray still looked worried. "What if the Count got to them first and she's only pretending to give you the time of day?"

"I've thought of that," Jim admitted. "I just have to hope that it's not true."

"And Coley . . . who knows where he is," Ray fretted. "If the Count doesn't have him, he can't be thinking straight at all to have dropped his phone and not know it! He pays attention to things like that!"

Jim nodded. "I know." They were both aware that Coley would be deeply hurting and grieving, and that could cloud even his judgment. To go after the Count alone was a reckless decision he would never make in a calm state of mind.

"If Lafe really is . . . Coley will never get over it." Ray shook his head. He couldn't bear to think of that.

"It would be a blow to all of us," Jim said. He had seen so many friends fall through the years. It never got easier. And although he had learned to rein in his emotions and handle situations with cold efficiency, he was filled with anger inside any time it happened. Including now.

". . . What do you think really happened, Mr. West?" Ray sounded lost now. "Did Lafe's greed really get the best of him after everything? Or are we missing a piece?"

"I don't know," Jim said. "Count Manzeppi probably knows, and unless Lafe can be saved somehow, asking the Count is the only way we'd find out."

". . . Unless it's on the security cameras," Ray realized.

Jim considered that. "I'd think the Count would try to keep it off the security cameras," he said. "He wouldn't want even more people to find out the philosopher's stone is real."

"Good point," Ray sighed.

"And I'd think the guards might have found Arte and said something to him if they saw it," Jim added.

"You're probably right," Ray said.

"Let's just keep looking . . . and hoping," Jim said.

It was easier said than done, but Ray nodded agreement. There wasn't much else they could do right now.