CHAPTER TWO

The Wanderer was a steam train with two passenger cars, which the United States Secret Service had converted to living quarters. The train was on long-term loan to its two best field agents, James West and Artemus Gordon.

During the Civil War, West had been aide-de-camp to General Ulysses Grant. Gordon had also served, attaining the rank of captain. The Union Army had put to good use the latter's talents for acting and disguises on many a danger-fraught mission into Confederate territory. When Grant became president and started the Secret Service, West and Gordon were his first recruits.

They had just finished an assignment in Kansas City and were about to take a long overdue vacation. However, the clicking of the telegraph implied a somewhat different agenda. A dread-filled Artemus got up from his workbench and walked to the desk that he and West shared. He opened the door to a compartment disguised as hardbound books, which contained the telegraph key, and jotted down the coded message.

West, who had been shooting pool, saw the bemused look on his partner's face. "Should I even ask?"

"We're going to Hot Springs, Arkansas."

"Arkansas? I had my heart set on New Orleans!"

"And mine on Chicago, but no. It's Arkansas, James."

"What's so important there?"

"We're to investigate two people who've died in the last week."

"Murder?"

"No, natural causes. They were both in their eighties."

"What?" An indignant West slammed down his pool cue.

"Careful, Jim! That's the one with the gun barrel in it."

"I checked; it's not loaded." He grabbed the piece of paper from Artemus and read with incredulity. "I don't believe this! Our leave is canceled because two elderly people died?"

"There's more to it than that; there has to be. Colonel Richmond wouldn't do this on a whim."

West sighed. "I suppose you're right."

xxx

Artie took advantage of the train ride to tinker with a pair of devices he had sketched out. His face a mask of intensity, he sat at his workbench, hunched over a palm-sized rectangular gadget. On one end was a button.

Setting his screwdriver down, Artie exclaimed, "I do believe it's done!"

West, looking over his shoulder, asked, "What do you have there?"

"If someone is choking you, or has you in a hold you can't break out of, you put this gadget against his skin and press the button. It sends a wave of pure pain through him!"

"How will you test it?"

"Watch and learn, my boy!" Across the train car stood a mannequin, which Artie had modified so that it bore simulated human flesh. He held the device against the mannequin's arm and pushed the button. The dummy trembled, gently at first but more violently as the vibrations increased in intensity. Then it collapsed to the floor.

"Interesting," said West, "but are you sure it works on people?"

"Sometimes, you have to take things on faith."

"I'd rather not do that if my oxygen supply is cut off." West rolled up his left sleeve. "Try it on me."

"Oh, Jim, that's not a good idea."

"We need to know if it works."

"You want me to send pain coursing through you? But you're my friend!"

"Artie…. Remember the Howling Light case? Dr. Arcularis subjected me to all manner of torture, and I pulled through. I can handle a few seconds of pain. Now do it!"

"Part of me hopes it doesn't work." Artie pressed the device against West's arm, took a deep breath, and pushed the button. West bellowed in agony, stumbled backward, and landed on the couch. He shook forcefully, his breath coming in labored gulps and tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Jim!" Artie dropped the device and rushed over to his friend and partner. "Are you all right?"

West reached out with his "good" arm, placing the palm of his hand on Artie's chest. He attempted to speak but could only pant.

"I'll get you some water."

By the time West finished drinking, he had regained the ability to speak. "How much nerve damage did my arm sustain?"

"It's temporary; a few minutes at most. At least, I hope so."

An angry West shouted, "You hope so?," but quickly caught himself. "It's my fault. I insisted you do this. But at least we know it works."

"I don't suppose you'd care to see my other device?"

West couldn't help but laugh. "Show it to me."

Artie returned to his workbench and picked up a firearm. "This gun fires a cable made of a lightweight alloy. It's weighted on either end, and is coated with a sticky substance of my own invention."

He returned the mannequin to a standing position and walked across the car. "Behold!" Artie fired the gun. The cable wrapped itself around the mannequin's arms, pinning them to its sides. "It works on the legs, too."

"Good for getting us out of sticky situations."

Artie grimaced. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."