CHAPTER FOUR

NOTE: Alamo Field in Las Vegas (now Harry Reid International Airport) did not open until January 1943. However, since the TV show took historical liberties, I figured I could do the same.

"Can you believe this, Jim? It's not enough that his father pulled us out of retirement. Now, he pulls us out of death!"

They were in their room at the Mayflower Hotel as their flight to Las Vegas did not leave until morning. Artie paced the floor while West looked through a newspaper.

"Relax, Artie. We spent years going after madmen trying to conquer the world. What's one more?"

"Not to belabor a point, but we're supposed to be dead!"

"And we will be again." West changed the subject. "Did you notice, our new bodies are not infallible?"

"How so?"

"As you found out the hard way, we're susceptible to pain. We don't have superhuman strength. And I doubt we're bulletproof, either."

"So, we can be killed in these bodies?"

"I'm not sure 'killed' is the right word, since we've already died. But that's my guess."

"Great!" Artie exclaimed. "Let's jump out the window and be done with it. I'd like to go back to Jupiter."

West laughed. "You should really study what Malone gave us."

Along with the Loveless dossier, the Secret Service director had provided the agents with an English-language copy of Mein Kampf, along with recent issues of the Washington Post and books that covered contemporary history. Through his reading, West learned that Hitler had so far taken control of Austria, Czechoslovakia, and part of Poland, which Germany and Russia had divided and annexed.

Artie heaved an exasperated sigh, plopped down on his bed, and thumbed through Mein Kampf. After a time, he exclaimed, "My god, Jim! Listen to this:

"If, with the help of his Marxist creed, the Jew is victorious over the other peoples of the world, his crown will be the funeral wreath of humanity and this planet will, as it did thousands of years ago, move through the ether devoid of men.

"Hence today I believe that I am acting in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator. By defending myself against the Jew, I am fighting for the work of the Lord."

A sad-sounding West remarked, "And the people of Germany elected that man to lead them. Incredible."

"Can we jump out that window now?"

xxx

Artie's attitude changed the next day, when their plane was in the air. As Gordon looked out the window, he exuded the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

"Will you look at that?" he shouted over the propeller noise. "We're thousands of feet off the ground! It used to take days to go across country; now it merely takes hours. What will they think of next? Flying through space?"

Jim eyed the stewardess rolling her cart down the aisle. "Not all the scenery is outside."

Artie turned his head away from the window. "I see what you mean! Did you know they can vote now? I swear, they're taking over the world! I'll bet someday, they put a woman in the White House."

"Emma Valentine's fondest dream," West noted, then returned to his book on 20th-century history.

xxx

"Doc, we just got the word. West and Gordon are on their way. Their flight is due in at 4:30."

"Doc" rested his elbows on the arms of the gaudily decorated high-back armchair in which he sat. Smiling, he placed his hands together so that only the fingertips touched. "Marvelous! If only our mole knew more about those bodies of theirs. Ah, to have the kind of body that's always in demand! After all, every man wants to be a macho, macho man."

"So, Doc, you want we should give 'em a warm welcome?"

"Indeed, I do." He gave a diabolical snicker. "It's a jungle. Welcome to the jungle. Watch it bring you to your knees."

xxx

WELCOME

TO THE WEST'S FRIENDLIEST AIR PORT

SKY ROOM OF THE SKY WAY CAFE

OPEN TO THE PUBLIC

AFFORDS VIEW OF FIELD ACTIVITY

West and Artie read read the wooden sign nailed to a flimsy white fence. Fifty or so feet back stood the small two-story building that was the Sky Way Cafe. The agents had just deplaned and walked in the desert sun, each with a suitcase in hand.

A voice behind them called, out, "Mr. West! Mr. Gordon!"

The agents turned and faced four tough-looking men in denim pants and jackets. Each wore scruffy cowboy boots with evil-looking spurs.

"We wanted to welcome you to Las Vegas."

"Uh, thank you," said a reticent West. "I don't suppose we know each other?"

"No," said the same man, "but we will."

He punched his left palm with his right fist—the signal to attack.

West and Artie dropped their suitcases as the men rushed them. West feinted to the left, viciously elbowing the right temple of the man who had just missed knocking him backward. As a second man barreled toward him, West leaped up and kicked his would-be assailant in the chest. The man let out an agonized yowl and fell backward.

Meanwhile, Artie dealt with his own attackers by producing a small metal ball that Malone had given both him and West. It was based on what Artie himself had developed some sixty-five years before. The agent forcefully tossed it to the ground, causing a heavy cloud of green smoke to rise from the sands. Artie's attackers coughed violently and fell to their knees.

The agents took advantage of their aggressors' dazed states to produce guns. When the assailants eyed the weapons, they held back.

"Now," said West, "who sent you?"

"Go to hell," spat one of the men.

"I'm sorry," Artie said, "that's not the answer we were looking for." He approached one of the men, spun him around, and twisted his right arm behind his back. The man screeched in pain as Artie asked, "Now, one more time. Who sent you?"

"Dr. Loveless!"

"Did he want us dead?"

"No! He just wanted to know about those bodies of yours. Like, are you indestructible?"

West replied, "Unfortunately, we're not. Now, where do we find Dr. Loveless?"

"We can't tell you that. He'd kill us!"

"And we'll kill you if you don't."

"Then you'll never know, will you?"

A police siren blared in the distance. Within moments, a cruiser pulled up and two officers jumped out, firearms at the ready.

"All right," one shouted, "drop the guns!"

West and Artie did so.

"We got a report of a brawl. What's goin' on?"

Artie replied, "We no sooner got off our plane, then these 'gentlemen' attacked us. We still don't know why."

The lead cop turned to the men. "Is that true?"

The head attacker lied, "Officer, it was a misunderstanding. We thought these gentlemen owed us money from a poker game, but they're the wrong ones." To West and Artie, "We're awfully sorry, guys."

"No harm done," West allowed, "at least not to us."

The man forced a laugh. "Yeah, you messed me up real good! That was quite a kick in the chest."

The lead cop turned to West and Artie. "Do you gentlemen wish to press charges?"

The agents shook their heads.

"All right." He turned back to the assailants. "You men beat it! And if you're going to collect on a debt, make sure it's the guys who really owe you."

"Sure, officer, sure. Guess I need glasses."

As the men walked away, the cop said to West and Artie, "I hope this experience won't sour you on Las Vegas."

"The jury is still out," Artie assured him. "Any chance you'd give us a ride to town?"

"Sure! Where you stayin'?"

"Golden Nugget."

"Yeah, we'll take you there. Hop in!"

They did.