CHAPTER SIX

After a steak dinner at the hotel's restaurant, West and Artie lit cigars while Agent Chin produced a pack of Camel cigarettes. As she lit up, she noticed Artie gawking at her.

"You seem shocked, Mr. Gordon. You've never seen a woman smoke before?"

"Not in public."

"We've been smoking in public since the '20s," taking a deep, intense drag that made the lit end glow a radiant orange.

"What did I tell you, James? They're taking over the world!"

"We're certainly trying," blasting smoke out through her lips and nostrils. "And I hope you two won't sell me short for being a woman. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Mr. West, you studied karate."

"Yes, I did."

"Well, I'm a black belt. I once broke a man's nose with the sole of my foot! I'm also adept with knives, guns, and other weapons. Who knows, I may end up saving your asses."

Artie winced. He also was unused to hearing a woman curse.

Once they finished smoking, Chin led the men outside to her vehicle. West's face assumed a look of non-recognition. "What kind of a car is that?"

"That's a Jeep," Chin replied. "It's an Army vehicle."

"Where did you get it?"

"When my engine overheated, I took the car to a garage. Since I know someone at the Army base, I borrowed a Jeep. Otherwise, we'd be on foot."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Chin asked, "Did either of you drive?"

"I did," Artie answered, "but my license expired in 1914."

"We can do something about that," Chin assured him. "And if you'd like to brush up on your driving skills, we can go to the desert and you can practice."

"I would love that!" He turned to his partner. "You know, Jim, this whole 'returning from the dead' thing might not be so bad."

West's head jerked in his partner's direction. "What have you done with Artemus Gordon?" They had a brief laugh, after which West motioned to the construction crew that the Jeep was swerving around. "Looks like they're putting in a road from end one of town to the other."

"They are," said Chin. "It'll be quite a strip when it's done."

xxx

"And this is your headquarters." Agent Chin pulled up in front of a one-story cinderblock building on Fremont Street, near the city's first traffic light. Thanks to a pair of thick black curtains, the picture windows afforded no view of the inside.

As they exited the Jeep, Chin handed keys to West and Artie. "This way, you don't need that mini-blowtorch of yours."

The men chuckled as she unlocked the door. Inside, they found an impressively equipped armory and lab. Artemus made a beeline to a table at the back of the large room, brimming with test tubes, Bunsen burners, and dozens of vials of chemicals, among other items.

Meanwhile, West inspected the left-side wall, from which hung numerous firearms of various sizes and power. Paying particularly close attention to a lengthy olive drab tube, he asked, "What's this?"

"That's a Bazooka; it's an anti-tank weapon. I doubt you'll need one, but it's there if you do."

"I'd better familiarize myself with this stuff," West mused. "Is there a firing range?"

She motioned behind her with her right thumb. "Back room. And it's soundproofed, too."

Artie walked over to them. "Agent Chin, I must say, you did an excellent job of supplying us!"

"Thank you, but can I ask a favor?"

"Ask away!"

"Can we drop the formalities? Just call me Amanda."

"Perfectly fine, my dear! Then I'm Artie, or Artemus if you prefer."

"And I'm Jim."

"Solid, Jackson!"

"No, not Jackson," Gordon said. "I'm Artie, and he's Jim."

Chin laughed. "I was using slang. Oh, and don't forget these." She proceeded to the opposite wall and opened a locker, which housed all manner of gadgetry.

"Hello, my children," Artie gushed as he looked inside. "We must get reacquainted."

"They're updated," Chin advised, "but I'm sure you'll adjust."

"I most certainly will! Jim, remember this?" Artie held up a glob of what look like clay, with a thin, foot-long chain sticking out of it.

"Oh, yeah! That thing saved my life once."

Artie threw it at the ceiling, grabbed the chain, and lifted himself off the floor. "If memory serves, it'll support your weight for about ten seconds."

"It's thirty now," said Chin.

"Imagine that!" Changing the subject, "Now, about my driving…."

"Sure! We can go to the desert, and you can practice with the Jeep. Of course, you'll need a license too. You were born in 1835, right?"

"I was."

"Yeah, that's not going to work. You'll need some fake I.D. But for an expert forger like you, that won't be a problem."

"Not in the least! Especially with the gear you provided."

A sudden round of gunshots made them jump, but there was no danger. West had retired to the back room with a revolver and neglected to close the door.

Artie and Chin cautiously entered the shooting gallery. West stood fully erect with his back to them. His arms hung at his side, the smoking revolver clutched in his right hand. On the opposite wall stood a human-shaped target with four bullet holes in the chest and two in the forehead.

He turned to his friends, his handsome face emanating pure joy. "I haven't lost my touch!"