Post by California gal on Feb 20, 2009 11:45:07 GMT -8
Originally posted Sept. 2008
Before entering the hotel’s barroom, Jim West paused at the door. Although he saw Artie instantly, he gazed around a moment, as though he had not. A few more seconds were required to locate the other party he sought, the man seated at a table near the entrance to the hotel’s adjoining restaurant. The scene was set.
The reflection in the mirror behind the bar gave Artemus Gordon a glimpse as his partner entered the saloon, but he did not move from his position, elbows on the polished mahogany, staring into the glass of amber liquid that had been placed before him, an angry expression on his handsome countenance. This was not going to be easy. However, they had to make it convincing.
Jim made his way slowly through the tables in the barroom, most of them occupied on this busy Friday evening, now keeping his eyes on Artemus’s slumped shoulders. He did not relish this assignment. Colonel Richmond had been adamant, and Artemus had been smugly happy that their superior had accepted his idea. Even better as far as Artemus Gordon was concerned, Lily had agreed to cooperate. Artie had been delighted to get the star assignment, and pretty much dared his partner to say he was not up to it. Jim could not, of course. He knew Artemus Gordon could carry it out with aplomb. Yet, he also could not keep from worrying.
Space was available on Artie’s left side, and Jim stepped up there, shaking his head toward the balding bartender to indicate he did not want to be served just now. Milt Taylor went back to polishing glasses. “Artie…”
“Get out of here,” Artemus Gordon growled. “Get away from me before I deck you.” The men on either side of the pair stopped whatever they had been doing to look after hearing the snarled words.
“Artie, you have to understand… it just happened. We didn’t mean…”
“Sure. Sure! It just happened. I know you, James West. Any time a beautiful woman is involved…. You just couldn’t keep away from her, even knowing she was my woman!”
Jim swallowed hard under the rage he saw in his partner’s eyes. Artie is an actor, don’t forget that. A damn good actor. “Artie, talk to Lily. She cares about you. It’s just…”
“Cares about me! Cares about me, yet she goes into another man’s arms. My partner’s arms! My friend’s arms!”
Jim West sighed heavily, turning to face the mirror now and allowing his gaze to briefly brush over the reflection of the man at the table near the door that led to the hotel’s restaurant. He was pretty certain that man, and perhaps a good portion of the population of Denver, was aware of the scenario that had unfolded a few hours earlier in the hotel where the agents had been staying. Artemus Gordon had entered his partner’s room without knocking, and found his fiancée in Jim West’s embrace… at least that’s what he loudly ranted and raved as he stormed through the lobby, with Lily Fortune and James West at his heels attempting to stop him, trying to explain.
Fortuitously, or so it seemed, a group of reporters from Denver’s dailies were in the lobby at that time, awaiting an interview with a royal personage said to be visiting the city incognito. They thus witnessed the imbroglio, recognized the participants, and scribbled eagerly in their notebooks. Then when Colonel Richmond, head of the Secret Service, entered the lobby from the street door, and Artemus Gordon angrily submitted a verbal resignation, condemning not only his partner for his betrayal but also the organization for having such a blackguard on their payroll, the scribes wrote even faster. After Gordon stalked out of the lobby, the newspaper people rushed off to write and file their stories. None of them even noticed that the royal personage never appeared. The story of the brouhaha and breakup of two of the nation’s most famous agents had hit the streets of Denver in the late editions.
“Artie, please don’t let this come between us. It wasn’t something I expected to happen. We were just talking and…”
Jim did not finish the sentence as a fist suddenly collided with his mouth. He stumbled back, grasping toward the rim of the bar, but it took the hands of another patron against whom he staggered to keep him on his feet. Artemus Gordon saw the blood spurt from Jim’s mouth, and all of his willpower was required to prevent himself from voicing an abject apology. They had agreed to keep it as real as possible. What better way to accomplish that than to shed a little blood?
Jim pulled a handkerchief from inside his blue corduroy jacket and dabbed it at his stinging mouth, seeing the crimson that stained the cloth. “Artie, please understand…”
“Get out of here, Mr. West.” Artemus used the polite title, but it dripped with bitterness. “Get out of here before I forget entirely that I once looked upon you as a friend. We are not friends anymore, nor partners. You proved that.”
Jim opened his mouth, closed it again, keeping his eyes on Artemus’s angry face. Then he sighed audibly, shook his head, turning to head toward the exit, never looking back. Artie watched him a long moment, then faced the bar and the mirror, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow to empty the tumbler. Only one bartender, Milt Taylor, another agent deliberately placed here for just this reason, knew that the contents of the glass were cold tea rather than strong whiskey. Artemus quickly waved to Taylor to refill his glass before the second bartender, who was not in on the ruse, poured the real stuff.
“Leave the bottle,” Artie growled. Taylor looked at him a moment, shrugged, and placed the still half full bottle of “whiskey” on the counter before moving off.
In the mirror, Artemus could see the man at the table gazing in his direction. At least he was interested. Now to get him to approach. Artie gulped down more of the tea, then turned his back to the bar, hooking his elbows on the edge as though needing some support. He glared toward the patrons at the tables, fiercely enough that a couple of men quickly averted their gazes. Whether they knew who he was or not, they did not want any trouble with him.
Uh-oh. This might be too easy! Out of the corner of his eye, Artie saw the man at the table motion to a passing waiter, who leaned down to hear what was being said, then looked directly toward Artie at the bar before nodding his head and accepting a gratuity from the seated man. The waiter made his way to the bar.
“Mr. Gordon, that fellow back there would like to talk to you.”
“So? Is that my problem?” Artie slurred his words slightly.
The waiter cleared his throat nervously. “Well, he said to tell you that he sympathizes with what happened to you, and he wants to help you get back at them.”
“You don’t say?” Now Artie stared directly at the seated man, who smiled and lifted his glass.
Artemus knew he had to leave the bottle of tea on the bar. He could not risk the discovery of the fake drink, in case his newfound friend decided to sample it. So he filled his glass then put the bottle down. After digging into his pocket for a crumpled bill to place alongside the bottle, he handed another coin to the helpful waiter, then, carrying his full glass, slowly meandered through the tables. He was careful to sway a little, but not too much. He did not want to appear so inebriated as to be unable to comprehend what was going to be imparted to him.
Gaining the table he looked down at the man. He knew this man’s identity already. What he did not know, and hoped to learn, was how deep his involvement was. “Who are you and what do you want?” Artie demanded.
“Sit down, Mr. Gordon. My name is Albert Lakewood. I have a proposition for you.” Lakewood was probably in his forties, his dark hair slicked back with too much oil—scented oil that reeked sickeningly all around him. His clothing were what would be described as “dapper,” a green plaid suit, dark green necktie fastened with a stickpin bearing a large diamond. He also wore a diamond ring. This was not the man they wanted, but the hope was he would lead them to the real quarry.
Artie pulled out a chair, seemed to nearly lose his balance as he plopped into it. “What do you want? You want to gory details? I’ll give them to you! My partner, my friend…” He paused, momentarily pressing his hand over his eyes as though overcome with emotion. “I never thought he would stoop so low. I thought I could trust him… and her!”
Lakewood smiled in sympathy. “I know, I know, Mr. Gordon. I heard all about it and it’s reprehensible. I am sure you want vengeance. I can show you a way.”
Artie squinted at him. “How can a newspaper writer…”
A raised hand stopped his words. “I’m not a newspaperman, Mr. Gordon. But I can help you gain a sweet revenge against West and Miss Fortune, along with the whole of the Secret Service. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To rub their noses in the mud?”
“Or blood,” Artie chuckled, then hiccuped. “’Scuse me. Did you see what I did to that bastard West? He always claimed he was my pal, my buddy… my brother! First chance he gets, he stabs me in the back. You know what?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know what? He was jealous. I had the beautiful woman, not him. He could never keep his hands off the pretty ones, but I got to Lily first. Not only that, I was looking too good. Iwas the one doing all the work, solving all the cases. Jim West, he’s a hog. He wants all the glory, and he got jealous when I started to get the credit and attention, so he decided to take Lily away from me.”
“A lot of people already knew that you were the real brains of the partnership. West struts around, gets the ladies and the glory, while you do all the grub work.”
“That’s right, that’s right. The grub work. Y’know? He didn’t like it when I got engaged to Lily. He kept trying to move in on her. Y’know? I can see it now. Y’know? He was after her right from the start.” Artemus picked up his glass and drank deeply.
“I believe that, Mr. Gordon.” Lakewood watched as Artie emptied his glass, and as soon as it was placed back on the table, he picked up his own bottle and filled it.
Now I’ve got to be careful. This is the real stuff. Drink enough, but not too much. Got to keep a clear head. “So, whattya got to say to me?”
“I told you. I have a friend who wants to help you get even. What do you think is the best way to get revenge on West and the Secret Service?”
Artie pretended to ruminate on this for a moment, taking a swallow of the excellent whiskey. Goes down smooth. Take care, Artemus. “Well, I gotta show them up. I gotta show them I’m better, smarter than they are!”
Lakewood’s smile was large, revealing a gold tooth at one side. “Then my friend is the perfect man to help you do that, Mr. Gordon. Want to meet him?”
So far, so good. Jim West crouched in the darkness of the alley across the street from the front entrance of the hotel and watched his partner leaving with Lakewood. This was the part that he hated most. He could not take the chance of being spotted, thus would be unable to follow Artie from here. They had arranged several ways to keep in touch, but that would be later. For now, Artemus was completely on his own. Other than Lakewood, they had no clue as to whom they were dealing with. The man leaning against a lamppost smoking a fat cigar might be one of them; so could the hooker eyeing that man speculatively from a dozen feet away.
The two men walked down the street about half a block, with Artie continuing to behave as though slightly intoxicated, swaying a bit, talking loudly. A closed carriage with a smartly dressed driver waited on the corner, and they got into it. All Jim West could do was watch it move off down the street before it turned left at the first intersection.
Over the last three months, two agents had been murdered here in Denver. The first man. Harold Barkley, had sent a brief report to Colonel Richmond stating that he had been approached and offered a substantial bribe to turn traitor against the service and the United States. He was going to play along, he said. A couple of days after that report was received, he was found shot to death.
The second man, Elton Hirsch, had been sent to Denver to investigate the incident. Within two weeks of his arrival, he was dead as well. His reports had indicated he had a line on the man who might be behind the slaying of Barkley. He mentioned Lakewood, but he did not have the name of the big boss yet. His death was the warning that something extremely serious was occurring.
Jeremy Pike had been the next agent to hit Denver. Like Artemus, Jeremy had a knack for disguise, and rather than announce his identity and purpose, as Hirsch had done, Jeremy had used several roles in order to acquire information. What he learned caused Richmond to decide to bring in his two top men, West and Gordon.
Those two arrived in Denver openly last week. Artemus had been delighted to receive the assignment, because Lily Fortune’s acting troupe was already in Denver. He told Richmond and Jim later that something Lily said actually gave him the idea of how to portray a public rift between himself and his partner, thus setting him up to be contacted by the mysterious person they sought. Lily had simply mentioned that in a sense it was too bad everyone knew that he and Jim were such close friends, because separating one of them from the other and from the service to thus be accessible to the plotters was unlikely to be accepted.
Artemus had already told her that Colonel Richmond had vetoed the idea of one of them portraying a turncoat, which the colonel stated would not be feasible because of the publicity received during and after the previous incident using that ploy. He then asked her if she would participate in setting him up to be contacted. When she first hesitated, Artemus misread her thoughts, and assured her that she would be in no danger.
His heart had nearly burst with love when she grasped his hands to say quietly, “No, Artemus. I’m not worried about me. I just don’t know if I want to be the one to put you into a possibly perilous situation. You know I could not bear it.” His next concern had been whether Jim would mind being portrayed as a cad. He should have known better. His partner had laughed heartily when Artie worriedly mentioned the word.
The reports published in the evening papers stated that Gordon had publicly demanded that West be dismissed from the service. When that ultimatum was denied, Gordon had himself resigned. Artemus Gordon had been free with his livid quotes about his partner and the service, but “no comment” had been the response from other agency members, including Richmond and West. Miss Fortune had gone into seclusion in her hotel.
It’s a good thing I know that Artie was acting in the hotel bar. He scared me. Jim West touched his still tender mouth as he left his post and headed toward the rear of the alley. Though swollen and discolored, the bleeding had stopped. They had agreed beforehand that Artie would strike him, and in order to be believed, it had to be a real blow. In San Francisco, Jim had slugged Artemus, but he had pulled the punch, knocking his partner down, but not severely hurting him. The newspaper boys who witnessed that scenario did not need as much convincing as they raced off to file their stories.
Jim had tried his best to dissuade Richmond from this plan—out of Artie’s hearing of course. He did not want his partner to think he did not have confidence in him. That was not the situation at all. Artemus had proved too many times that he was more than capable of handling dangerous situations. But a good many of those situations had occurred while he was in disguise, under another persona—and often in a circumstance where he needed to help Jim in some manner, frequently to save his life.
Jim had left his horse waiting in the rear of the buildings. He had not wanted to risk that Lakewood had someone watching the area around the front of the hotel. They knew that the man they wanted—the unknown man—was extremely clever. He had trapped and killed two very capable and experienced agents already.
Artie has saved my life so many times. What if I can’t save his? What if I fail him, trying to do what he always did for me, backing him up?
Jim West had confidence in his own abilities. He had confidence in those of his partner. But this situation seemed backward. It was not a case where Artie went ahead, in disguise, to size up the situation, the method they often used. Nor would Artie be standing by, ready to move in, using some guise that would unbalance the thinking of the culprits they were trying to catch.
The two agents had learned that Colonel Richmond had initiated attempts to come up with a plan soon after Barkley’s death, and had warned Hirsch that he had received information that “something” was in the works. If West and Gordon had not been tied up in another case at the time, he would have assigned them instead of Hirsch. After Hirsch’s death, Richmond had sent Pike in, and what Jeremy learned confirmed what was already known, and garnered further information—but still too little to act.
The information Richmond had received earlier indicated some major crime was being planned, one that apparently required—or at least would be facilitated by—the presence of an agent, or ex-agent, who possessed particular, valuable information. Though they did not yet know who was plotting the scheme, Richmond knew he had to try to get someone into the organization. He had been considering Jeremy Pike because Pike was somewhat lesser known than West and Gordon, before Artemus came up with his idea.
“Has to be the mint.”
Jim smiled as he mounted the satin black horse. All three men had said those words almost simultaneously. The Denver mint was the primary government installation here, or at least the one that would yield a worthwhile fortune to some opportunistic and clever thief. Like Jim, Artie knew the mint inside and out. They had helped set up security measures, had visited often. Unsuccessful robbery attempts had been tried before. Who was this man who thought he knew how, with the assistance of an insider, to successfully accomplish this feat?
“Mr. Gordon, this is indeed a great honor for me. My name is Alaric Compton. I’m very grateful you agreed to talk to me. What has happened to you is shameful. Shameful!”
Artemus accepted the hand of the imposing man standing before him. Like Lakewood, he would stand out in a crowd, but in a different manner. Compton had the appearance of a sophisticated man, his clothing perfectly tailored, his shirt snowy white at the collar and cuff. Instead of diamonds, however, his tie clasp was a muted silver, with the design of a crown etched in the middle of a simple band, matching his cufflinks, which were silver squares etched with the same crown. He was a broad-shouldered man, but not overly tall, not more than two or three inches taller than Artemus. As well as sophistication, he had the appearance of strength, both in his physical build and his mien. A very handsome man, probably fifty or so, with steel gray hair and almost matching eyes.
“My pleasure.” Artie looked around the well-appointed living room. The moon was not very high yet, so he had not been able to see much of the outside of the house in the darkness. Nonetheless, he had gained an impression that it was not very large, and not very formidable. The inside was completely the opposite. Loveless would admire this man’s tastes. But who is he? Why have we not heard of him before?
“Please sit down. Would you like some coffee?”
Artemus deliberately scowled and stared at the sideboard where crystal carafes contained amber liquids. Then he muttered, “If that’s all you have.”
Compton chuckled. “For now, Mr. Gordon. For now.” He waved a hand, and Artemus almost jumped as a man seemed to materialize from nowhere to head for the door that Artie knew led to the hall through which he had entered with Lakewood, who had now vanished.
He quickly realized that the man in butler’s attire had been standing back against the very dark drapes behind Compton, out of the sphere of the illumination of the single lamp in the room, which was on the table next to the chair Compton settled into. That the butler was also swarthy—perhaps Spanish or Portuguese—had helped camouflage him as well.
Artie settled into a plush chair, and rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s been a long day.”
“I imagine you are very weary, Mr. Gordon. No man should have to endure such betrayal, especially not one of your sterling reputation. I understand your superior took West’s side. I can only imagine that the green-eyed god jealousy was involved on Mr. West’s part.”
“A green-eyed agent,” Artie snarled. “Damn…” He cut off his words, clenching his teeth together as the servant returned with a silver carafe on a tray along with a pair of bone china cups, once again displaying the design of a crown. Odd that like Compton’s personal adornment, the emblem was done in silver, rather than gold. He accepted the cup, lifted it to take a sip, but paused it close to his mouth, shifting his gaze. “Are you royalty?”
Compton smiled. “In blood, but unacknowledged. I’ll explain in greater detail later. But for now, I merely want you to know that I am on your side. I know the feeling of being betrayed, although in my case, a woman was not involved. I have seen Miss Fortune on the stage, and she is indeed a lovely woman. Not unexpected that other men would pursue her. I would imagine that after your long association with Mr. West, it must be galling that he would do something so traitorous.”
“I never knew,” Artie grumbled. “He fooled me. All this time, he was climbing the ranks by standing on my shoulders, and I never knew. Never suspected.” He shook his head sadly, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, feigning grief. He dropped his hand abruptly, allowing fury to twist his features. “Then he went after my fiancée!”
“That is indeed the ultimate insult, Mr. Gordon, especially from a man you considered your friend. I’ve never met Mr. West, but I’ve certainly heard about him. I often wondered how much of his reputation was truly earned. He seemed like an admirable fellow… before now.”
“I thought he was my friend,” Artemus moaned, putting his cup and saucer on the small lacquered table next to his chair. Again he rubbed his eyes. “I’m so blasted tired I can hardly think straight.”
“Of course you are. Forgive me, Mr. Gordon. I’ll summon Raymond to escort you to your room.”
Artie looked up. “My room?”
“Of course. You can’t go back to that hotel. We’ll fetch your belongings tomorrow. You are my guest, and an honored one.”
“Well… well, I sure appreciate that, mister… mister…” Artie chuckled in an embarrassed manner. “Now I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Compton. Alaric Compton. But don’t worry. We are going to be great friends. You won’t forget again.”
“Well, he’s in the lion’s den,” Jim scowled.
Jeremy Pike smothered the smile that threatened. Colonel Richmond had related the long hours of debate he had held with his top agent regarding the assignment of roles. Both knew as well as Jim did that Artemus was up to the task. They also knew the close friendship between the pair, and that this was a reversal of roles for them. Artie could adapt more easily than Jim.
“As long as he plays along,” Jeremy said, reaching up to scratch under the scraggly beard pasted to his chin, “things will be fine.”
“If only we knew who we’re dealing with. You haven’t heard…?” Jim paused. He knew that Pike would have revealed that information if he had it.
Jeremy shook his head patiently. “All I know is that this Lakewood is a go-between. He’s the one who contacted Hal Barkley for certain. And he may have been in touch with Elton, though I have been unable to confirm that.”
Jim West heaved a noisy sigh and threw himself down on the sofa in the parlor car, sprawling with his head against one armrest. “I hate just… waiting.”
“I heard Artemus say that a few times.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jim grimaced. “But Artie is the patient one. Not me. Twenty-four hours. It’ll be at least that long before Artie can arrange to contact one of us.”
“And maybe longer. We have no idea where he is, Jim. Only the suspicion that he’s still in Denver. Remember Loveless’s little hideout…”
“I know.” Jim pulled himself to a sitting position. “Denver is getting to be a big city. Not easy to keep track of people and places. At least the mint is on guard.”
Now Jeremy lowered himself into a chair at the table. “If the mint is the target. I could not come up with any information to confirm that aspect. Just vague rumors that something big is planned, that that was why this mystery man wanted a government agent on his payroll.”
“Now he’s got the best. He must know of Artie’s connection with the mint security setup.”
“And he probably feels he’s got what he needs,” Jeremy added. “Which means that the plans—whatever they are—will go forward.”
“Yeah, and all we have to do is sit quietly and wait to hear from Artie. Blast it!”
“Artemus! Artemus! Wake up!”
Artemus Gordon awakened but did not open his eyes, his whole being frozen with the sound of the familiar voice close to his ear. Then a hand touched his shoulder, and he rolled over… to stare into the moonlit face of Jim West.
“What the devil are you doing here?”
“The colonel got impatient, Artemus. He wants to know what’s going on?”
“What do you mean, the colonel? I’m off the force, remember? And you’d better get out of here before I start yelling!”
Surprise was evident on the intruder’s face. “Artemus, what’s the matter with you. I need to find out if you’ve been successful. Did you infiltrate?”
Artie sat up now, his hand slipping under his pillow. He had been a little surprised that Compton did not disarm him, and he had placed the pistol under his head so he would be aware if anyone attempted to grab it later. Lifting his hand, he pointed the gun. “Get out of here, West. I could shoot you and claim I thought you were a burglar. Justifiable homicide. And I’d do it with pleasure right now.” He kept his voice low and cold, anger and hatred in his eyes.
The bedroom door opened, and the glare of the lamp Alaric Compton held illuminated the scene fully. Compton wore a satiny dressing gown now… in dark blue with the silver crown emblazoned on a breast pocket. “Calm down, Mr. Gordon,” he said smoothly, smiling. “I don’t want you harming an important cog in our plans.”
Artie threw his blankets back, slipping off the bed, attired in the nightshirt Compton had loaned him. He still held the gun and looked from one man to the other. “What are you talking about? Jim West is in on this? Then maybe I don’t want to be!”
Compton laughed now. “I wondered whether Janus could still pull it off. Obviously he can, to fool West’s partner.”
Artemus’s eyes widened as he stared at the man attired in the blue jacket with the leather lapels. “Janus! He’s in prison.”
“I was,” that man said, his voice completely different now. “Mr. Compton was kind enough to see to my… release. I’m pleased to be able to help him take down the man who put me in prison. Or one of them at least. Glad to be on your side, Mr. Gordon.” He held out his hand.
Artie hesitated, then accepted the hand briefly, still appearing stunned. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry to have attempted to trick you, Mr. Gordon,” Compton said, putting his lamp on a bureau. “But I had to be certain. I can assure you that you passed with flying colors.”
“Well, Janus is lucky I didn’t shoot first, as the saying goes. I’m not sure I’m going to like having to look at that face too often!”
“Just tell yourself that because of Janus’s face, we are all going to become very, very wealthy men.”
Artemus looked from one to the other again. “You’re going to try to pass him off as Jim West?”
“With the knowledge of West’s behavior and activities that you will be able to impart, as well as what Janus learned while in the employ of the esteemed Dr. Loveless, I have no doubt of his success.”
Artie shook his head. “You’re forgetting that West is here in Denver, and his presence is well known.”
“True. But I have plans to take care of that. Don’t worry, Mr. Gordon, when the time comes, you will be there to witness James West’s disgrace. You will even participate. But that’s in the future. I apologize again for interrupting your sleep. I hope you rest well. We’ll see you at breakfast. Janus?”
Compton took the lamp again, and the two men departed. Artemus Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was too damn close! Thank God for the moonlight that allowed me to notice the lack of a bruise or cut on Janus’s mouth or I might have easily said something I would surely regret!
He sat down on the bed, all notions of returning to sleep currently vanished from his mind. This was one thing they had not counted on, had not remotely imagined. Janus! Loveless had done his usual superior job in altering the face of a man whose build and coloring, even the eyes, closely resembled James West. He had come very near to fooling Artemus on that occasion, had Janus not made the telling slip with a query concerning dear old “Aunt Maude,” combined with the telegraph message from Washington asking about West’s whereabouts.
So Compton had a plan to substitute Janus for Jim. How? With the purported feud between the two agents, not to mention his own resignation, they could not be seen working together. Very likely Janus indeed could fool people not closely acquainted with Jim. The remark Compton made about his plans for Jim, that Artemus could participate in his “disgrace,” was worrisome. Compton obviously planned to have Jim out of the way so as not to interfere in whatever scheme he had set up involving the doppelganger.
And I can’t get word to Jim. Unlikely that Compton will allow me to roam free, even though I passed this “test.” Not for awhile. I won’t be able to get to any of our plants to leave a message. I will need to convince Compton that I need to be seen in public or suspicions might be aroused. Even if it is only to continue my “carousing.” Taylor will be at the hotel bar for the duration of the plan…
Artie lay down, cradling the pistol against his chest, his eyes wide open as he stared at the moonlit ceiling. This room was as finely furnished as the parlor downstairs, and he had seen other excellent accouterments on the way up the wide polished staircase. Compton either had money, or he had friends who did.
Who in the devil is he, and why have we not heard of him before? Quite probably, the two murdered agents had been lured into some kind of trap by the elegant man. They would not have had any information, or reason to suspect him, either.
“Mr. West?”
Jim West lifted his head from the newspaper he had been pretending to read as he sat at the restaurant table, and gazed at the well-dressed, neatly bearded man who paused beside it. He recognized Jeremy Pike, of course, but pretended not to. “Can I do something for you, sir?”
Jeremy sat down opposite, and extended a card over. “How did you get here so fast?” he asked in a low voice, smiling ingratiatingly as befit his current role as a theater entrepreneur.
Jim gazed at the card for a long moment. “What do you mean?” he replied in an equally quiet but pleasant tone.
“I just left you down on Hawk Street playing cards. You were still there when I left.”
Jim got to his feet, pulling some cash out of an inside coat pocket to drop on the table, speaking in a normal though somewhat icy tone. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I can help you. I don’t see the current situation as fitting for the stage.” As he turned away, he lowered his voice. “The Wanderer, quick.”
Jim West reached the railroad yards and the train long before Pike, but was not surprised. Jeremy would not compromise his identity by following a direct route. Jim spent the time at the telegraph key, getting to his feet as the door to the car opened. “Jerry, what did you mean when you said you saw me on Hawk Street playing cards?”
Pike threw his hat on the desk. “Just that. I was in the saloon called the Red Queen talking to the gals about joining my, ah, show, when I spotted you at a table in the rear.”
“Playing cards? Gambling is against the rules.”
“Exactly. I figured you were onto something and had joined the game to get more information. You never looked my way, but that wasn’t surprising either.”
“Right. I wouldn’t want to suggest that I knew you. But it wasn’t me.”
“Yeah. I get that idea. Janus?”
“Just about has to be. I just sent some inquiries. He was sentenced to life at a maximum security prison. The warden knows the importance of keeping him out of circulation, as it wasn’t possible to change his appearance again. A doctor said that eventually time would cause some of the changes Loveless made in Janus’s appearance to alter on their own. But obviously not enough time has passed.”
“But how would he get here? Gotta be someone else, Jim. But I have to say I don’t know if anyone but Loveless could do a job like that.”
Before Jim could respond the telegraph key began to clatter. Both men listened silently, their countenances becoming grim. When the key ceased, Jim tapped off an acknowledgement, then looked at Pike. “Well.”
“How the devil could he have escaped?”
“You heard the message. ‘Investigation continuing.’ Has to be an inside job.”
Jeremy scowled. “I hate hearing that. But it does pretty much confirm that Janus is here. Funny that he’d be out in public like that.”
“It is,” Jim mused. “I’d say that it might be a setup, that we were supposed to become aware of him, except they’d have no reason to believe that I, or any agent, would be on Hawk Street.” He reached into an inside pocket for his cigar case, offering one to Jeremy, who shook his head.
“Is it possible,” Pike wondered aloud, “that he was playing poker to frame you, knowing… no.” He shook his head.
“Why do you say no? That seems plausible.”
“He wasn’t dressed like you, Jim. His attire was similar to what Lakewood wears—a cross between a riverboat gambler and flash city slicker.”
“I see what you mean. If someone wanted him to be mistaken for me…”
“James, none of this makes any sense.”
Jim finally lit his cigar, but did it absently, pitching the match into a nearby ashtray, then merely holding the smoke in his hand, his gaze on some point passed Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy waited. Finally Jim spoke. “This is something that Artie is much better at than I am, figuring out riddles. And damn it, we have to wait to hear from Artie. It’s been forty-eight hours!”
“We knew it might be awhile. After all, he has to gain… whoever’s… confidence.”
“Yeah.” Jim West did not voice his fears. Perhaps if he did not speak them aloud, Artie would remain safe. “I hate waiting.” How many times had he said that?
“You should have tried harder to win your debate with the colonel.”
Jim recognized that Jeremy was twitting him, trying to ease his impatience. “Yeah. The funny thing is, usually I can. With Artie’s backing.”
“Yep. But this time Artemus was on Richmond’s side.”
Jim stubbed out the unwanted cigar in the ashtray. “We’d better get back into town. I want to check some of the contact points just in case Artie was able to get a message through.”
“And I’ll head back to the Red Queen and see if the other Mr. West is still playing cards there. If he is, I’ll try to strike up an acquaintance. If not, I’ll see what I can learn about him. See you tonight.”
“Mr. Compton, I don’t want to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but I’m thinking I should be out and about a bit.”
Alaric Compton lowered his wineglass and gazed at Artemus across the table with its fine linen and exquisite place settings, not to mention the perfectly prepared roast beef they had just supped on. “You mentioned that before, Mr. Gordon. I’m really not sure that’s necessary. I can easily make it appear as though you have left the city. I have contacts around the country who can arrange for you to be ‘present’ in any city you desire—Chicago, New York, San Francisco… West and his cohort in the Secret Service will believe you have departed Denver.”
Artemus smiled tightly. “I’m afraid you don’t know James West as well as I do, Mr. Compton. He doesn’t follow, nor believe gossip. And you forget, the agency has offices—and agents—in all those cities. They would confirm, or refute, my presence.”
“Hmm. You might be right.” Compton’s face revealed some satisfaction, as he apparently realized that he was already reaping the benefits of having a former agent on his side, for the inside knowledge that former agent could impart.
“My experience with the service tells me that if I have vanished from the streets at this point, not to mention my hotel, an investigation will soon be instigated. Despite I resigned—and perhaps because of it—a search will soon be underway.”
“Yes. Yes! What is your suggestion?”
“Simply that I take up my previous pursuits. I’ll be honest, Mr. Compton, I have never been much of a carouser. I’m afraid my anger upon coming to the realization of how my so-called partner and my sweetheart betrayed me caused me overdo it that evening. But for me to go into hiding, so to speak, might call too much attention my way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, in a convoluted manner, I do. You should know that West is still in Denver… as is Miss Fortune’s troupe. Your colonel has gone to Cheyenne, but is expected back. I believe the plans are that he will then travel east in your—in Mr. West’s train.”
“I see. That makes sense.” How the devil did you find out so much? The colonel’s movements are not usually public knowledge. “Mr. Compton, when will you be able to fill me in on your scheme?”
“Soon. I have a few more arrangements to make. Then it will be time to make use of your expertise. Soon we will all live the lives of kings.”
Artie cocked his head. “Is that the symbolism of the crown?”
“In a sense,” Compton replied, signaling to the ever present Raymond who stepped forward to refill his wine glass. Artie shook his head when the butler looked his way. “You see, my father was in line for the throne, and was cheated out of his heritage.”
Artemus blinked. “The throne… of England?”
“Of course. I’m afraid the details are somewhat sordid, so I won’t go into them for now. Suffice it to say that I intend to amass a fortune great enough to set up my own kingdom, and cause the Queen to regret that she refuses to acknowledge me.”
“I see. Have you selected a site for this kingdom?” Artemus knew he must not laugh, nor display any iota of doubt.
“South America, of course. Money goes a long way there.”
Artie could not help but glance around at the luxurious settings. “I rather had the impression that you were… well off already.”
“Oh, I have money. Over the years I developed a taste for fine living, thanks partially to our mutual acquaintance, Miguelito Loveless. He’s the one who pointed me toward Janus.”
Seeing the sour expression on Compton’s face as he mentioned the doppelganger’s name, Artie asked, “I’m surprised Janus isn’t here at dinner.” Somehow he was not surprised at the mention of the doctor’s name.
“Mr. Janus did a foolish thing, Mr. Gordon. I’m afraid he’s being punished.”
“Oh. I see.” Though intensely curious, Artemus felt it best to drop the subject for now. In the two days he had been residing in Compton’s home, he had developed what he believed was a good relationship with his host, and was gradually gaining his trust. He did not want to push too hard now, especially if Compton was on the verge of agreeing that it was time for Artemus Gordon to reappear in Denver.
The same applied to waiting to learn the plans for the robbery that was going to allow Compton to establish his South American kingdom… and reclaim the British throne. Acquiring that information was Artemus Gordon’s primary purpose in going through this dangerous ruse. However, patience was required. He wondered how Jim West was doing in that vein. Jim was not always the most patient of men.
Jim West paid for the newspaper and turned away from the newspaper stand, fighting the urge to curse aloud in his frustration. He had made the rounds. Taylor at the hotel bar had not seen Artemus Gordon since the night of the altercation. The man selling roasted peanuts on the corner a block away had not encountered the agent since the day they all met in Omaha to receive instructions before coming on to Denver to set up the deception. The story was the same with the young lady in the tobacconist, and the young agent manning the newsstand. Artemus had not made contact with any of them.
We need some information, Artie! Where are you? He knew of several reasons why Artemus had not appeared, primarily because he was still gaining the trust of his new “employer.” Jim was sure that Artie would talk his way out of the situation, whatever it was. Question was, when? Until they received word from Artie, they were in the dark.
Not even the information received regarding the escape of the man known as Janus was of much use yet. Someone—and it seemed that even the parties involved were not aware of that person’s identity—had bribed an assistant warden and a pair of guards. They had slipped Janus out of the prison, and worked a ruse that caused his absence not to be noticed until Jim West’s telegram was received, alerting the warden to check on that particular prisoner.
Knowing that Janus was involved was chilling. That meant that, somehow, James West’s reputation was going to be part of the plan. That also meant, Jim was aware, that he needed to be extra alert. Loveless had kidnapped him in order to create Janus. His plan had been to substitute Janus for the real agent. Chances were pretty good that… whoever… had the same idea, possibly including the part that had the real agent in his grave.
He looked up and down the street, seeing nothing untoward. His black horse was tethered in front of the tobacconist’s shop. Every person he noticed appeared to be going about normal business. Above the street, windows gleamed in the sun. Was there now someone behind one of those windows watching him, waiting for the opportunity to seize him? He knew he would not be attacked and killed openly. That would not work if the intention was to place Janus in his stead. His death would need to be kept hidden, at least for the time being.
Artie, tell us what’s going on!
Artemus learned the following morning what Janus had done to incur Compton’s wrath: he had taken an unauthorized foray into the saloons of Denver. The ex-convict sullenly claimed that after all the months he had spent in solitary confinement, he was entitled to some fun. “I agree with him, Mr. Gordon,” Compton blithely stated. “However, he risked our entire venture had he been ‘recognized,’ so to speak. Fortunately, that did not happen. Mr. Janus’s tastes do not equal those of the real James West. The types of public houses he frequents are not those that Mr. West would be likely to enter except in the line of duty. Mr. Janus realizes now that the only reason he is still alive is due to his value to our scheme.”
The only other scrap of information he was able to garner was overhearing Compton speaking to his servant, telling Raymond that when he shopped he should not purchase food for more than a week’s meals. Artie could only believe that meant that Compton planned to carry out the crime he was planning within that amount of time. Otherwise, why instruct the servant?
The good news was that Compton apparently arrived at the decision to trust his newest partner in that crime, saying that he believed Mr. Gordon was correct, that it would be wise for him to reappear in Denver. “I’ll leave it to your clever mind to devise an excuse for disappearing for three days,” Compton chuckled. “I’ll also trust your discretion that you will not over-imbibe and become too talkative.”
“No, indeed,” Artie assured him. “I’ve seen it happen too many times—and to the benefit of the service—when a careless fellow allowed demon rum to loosen his tongue. I’m an actor, Mr. Compton, as you undoubtedly are aware. I can portray a celebrant deep in his cups without actually sinking that low.” Compton laughed, and did not appear to recognize the irony of the remark.
“Jim!” Jeremy called out excitedly as he entered the parlor car of the Wanderer. “A break!”
Jim looked up from the rifle he had been cleaning. “Janus show up again?”
“Better. Artemus was back in the hotel bar, and he slipped Taylor a note with his money when he paid.” Jeremy Pike pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. His disguise today was that of a staid, white-bearded merchant. “Appears to be in a private code.”
Jim got to his feet to accept the paper, thin onionskin type, tightly folded. He opened it carefully. “Yeah. It’s one Artie devised. Give me a minute.”
He sat down at the desk, taking a pad of paper and pencil as he studied the slip of paper. Jeremy waited, watching, and noticing how a deep frown appeared on Jim’s face. “Did I bring bad news after all?”
Jim glanced up, putting the pencil down. “Not exactly. Here’s what it says: ‘Alaric Compton. Caution. Janus is here. Spy?’”
“That’s all? Who’s Alaric Compton?”
The frown remained on Jim’s countenance as he shook his head. “I don't know. I feel as though I should know the name, but I don't know why. You’ve never heard it?”
“Nope. Not to my recollection.”
“Well, get on the key and make some inquiries.”
Pike sat down in the chair Jim rose to vacate. “At least Artemus’s note confirms our suspicions about Janus. They’re going to have to get you out of the way for him to step in.”
“Yeah. I just can’t think of why that name sounds familiar, blast it.”
Jeremy began to tap the key. “No one you’ve encountered in a job?”
“That’s just it. I don’t think so, but I know I’ve heard it.” Jim raked his fingers through his hair as he absently listened to the codes Pike was transmitting, requesting information on Alaric Compton. Where did I hear that name? He had the sense that remembering was very important. He was positive Compton had not been associated with any case they worked on. Not directly anyway. Alaric Compton was not a common name. Not likely someone else bore it.
“At least,” Jim said then with some relief, “Artie is alive, and apparently going to be allowed to be out and about. That must mean he’s gained a semblance of trust from this Compton. And that also means he should be able to get more information to us.”
“Carefully,” Jeremy agreed, lifting his hand from the telegraph key and leaning back. “He’s got to be very careful about it. And what does he mean by ‘Spy?’?”
“I’d say he has reason to believe someone in or near the department is on this Compton’s payroll.”
Pike frowned deeply. “I hate to think that. It would have to be someone here in Denver, and I can’t believe Taylor or any of the others are on the take.”
Jim considered this a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t be anyone in the department. Otherwise, Compton would be aware of Artie’s ruse.”
“Very true. But it’s someone passing along enough information to make Artemus believe he… or she… is spying.”
“Seems so. Maybe Artie will be able to provide more information later.”
“Well, as I said before, he’d better be careful.”
“He will. Disguised or no, Artie knows how to carry out a charade. But we need to find out who this Compton is.”
“It’ll take a little time,” Jeremy reminded him. “Remember, it’s a lot later in Washington than it is here… and it’s almost midnight.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Won’t be anyone to do the digging until morning. Jeremy, in the morning, go to the mint and make sure they are on high alert.”
“I kind of thought I should stick close to you. You’re going to be a target, Jim.”
“I doubt if anything’s going to happen in broad daylight. But I’ll be watchful in any case. Thanks for your concern, Jeremy, but I can take care of myself.”
Jeremy Pike knew better than to argue. He also knew that no one was more capable of looking after his own safety than James West. But they were so much in the dark right now. All they really knew was that apparently this Alaric Compton was planning a crime and needed the services of a couple of government agents—one publicly on the outs with the service, the other to be replaced by a duplicate. The second part of that equation was the troubling portion: the real James West would need to be taken out of circulation before he could be replaced with the duplicate.
“Is it possible,” Jeremy mused, “that this spy is in the mint? Colonel Richmond spent a lot of time there before leaving town. His plans could have become known.”
Jim nodded appreciatively. “Nose around, Jer. If that is the case, it has to be someone who has access to some information that alerted Artie. They don’t know about the ruse there… but that person would know of extra security that being set up.”
THE NIGHT OF BETRAY AND CONQUER
To find the mind’s construction in the face:
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.
– Shakespeare, MacBeth, Act 1, Sc. 3, Line 11
To find the mind’s construction in the face:
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust.
– Shakespeare, MacBeth, Act 1, Sc. 3, Line 11
Before entering the hotel’s barroom, Jim West paused at the door. Although he saw Artie instantly, he gazed around a moment, as though he had not. A few more seconds were required to locate the other party he sought, the man seated at a table near the entrance to the hotel’s adjoining restaurant. The scene was set.
The reflection in the mirror behind the bar gave Artemus Gordon a glimpse as his partner entered the saloon, but he did not move from his position, elbows on the polished mahogany, staring into the glass of amber liquid that had been placed before him, an angry expression on his handsome countenance. This was not going to be easy. However, they had to make it convincing.
Jim made his way slowly through the tables in the barroom, most of them occupied on this busy Friday evening, now keeping his eyes on Artemus’s slumped shoulders. He did not relish this assignment. Colonel Richmond had been adamant, and Artemus had been smugly happy that their superior had accepted his idea. Even better as far as Artemus Gordon was concerned, Lily had agreed to cooperate. Artie had been delighted to get the star assignment, and pretty much dared his partner to say he was not up to it. Jim could not, of course. He knew Artemus Gordon could carry it out with aplomb. Yet, he also could not keep from worrying.
Space was available on Artie’s left side, and Jim stepped up there, shaking his head toward the balding bartender to indicate he did not want to be served just now. Milt Taylor went back to polishing glasses. “Artie…”
“Get out of here,” Artemus Gordon growled. “Get away from me before I deck you.” The men on either side of the pair stopped whatever they had been doing to look after hearing the snarled words.
“Artie, you have to understand… it just happened. We didn’t mean…”
“Sure. Sure! It just happened. I know you, James West. Any time a beautiful woman is involved…. You just couldn’t keep away from her, even knowing she was my woman!”
Jim swallowed hard under the rage he saw in his partner’s eyes. Artie is an actor, don’t forget that. A damn good actor. “Artie, talk to Lily. She cares about you. It’s just…”
“Cares about me! Cares about me, yet she goes into another man’s arms. My partner’s arms! My friend’s arms!”
Jim West sighed heavily, turning to face the mirror now and allowing his gaze to briefly brush over the reflection of the man at the table near the door that led to the hotel’s restaurant. He was pretty certain that man, and perhaps a good portion of the population of Denver, was aware of the scenario that had unfolded a few hours earlier in the hotel where the agents had been staying. Artemus Gordon had entered his partner’s room without knocking, and found his fiancée in Jim West’s embrace… at least that’s what he loudly ranted and raved as he stormed through the lobby, with Lily Fortune and James West at his heels attempting to stop him, trying to explain.
Fortuitously, or so it seemed, a group of reporters from Denver’s dailies were in the lobby at that time, awaiting an interview with a royal personage said to be visiting the city incognito. They thus witnessed the imbroglio, recognized the participants, and scribbled eagerly in their notebooks. Then when Colonel Richmond, head of the Secret Service, entered the lobby from the street door, and Artemus Gordon angrily submitted a verbal resignation, condemning not only his partner for his betrayal but also the organization for having such a blackguard on their payroll, the scribes wrote even faster. After Gordon stalked out of the lobby, the newspaper people rushed off to write and file their stories. None of them even noticed that the royal personage never appeared. The story of the brouhaha and breakup of two of the nation’s most famous agents had hit the streets of Denver in the late editions.
“Artie, please don’t let this come between us. It wasn’t something I expected to happen. We were just talking and…”
Jim did not finish the sentence as a fist suddenly collided with his mouth. He stumbled back, grasping toward the rim of the bar, but it took the hands of another patron against whom he staggered to keep him on his feet. Artemus Gordon saw the blood spurt from Jim’s mouth, and all of his willpower was required to prevent himself from voicing an abject apology. They had agreed to keep it as real as possible. What better way to accomplish that than to shed a little blood?
Jim pulled a handkerchief from inside his blue corduroy jacket and dabbed it at his stinging mouth, seeing the crimson that stained the cloth. “Artie, please understand…”
“Get out of here, Mr. West.” Artemus used the polite title, but it dripped with bitterness. “Get out of here before I forget entirely that I once looked upon you as a friend. We are not friends anymore, nor partners. You proved that.”
Jim opened his mouth, closed it again, keeping his eyes on Artemus’s angry face. Then he sighed audibly, shook his head, turning to head toward the exit, never looking back. Artie watched him a long moment, then faced the bar and the mirror, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow to empty the tumbler. Only one bartender, Milt Taylor, another agent deliberately placed here for just this reason, knew that the contents of the glass were cold tea rather than strong whiskey. Artemus quickly waved to Taylor to refill his glass before the second bartender, who was not in on the ruse, poured the real stuff.
“Leave the bottle,” Artie growled. Taylor looked at him a moment, shrugged, and placed the still half full bottle of “whiskey” on the counter before moving off.
In the mirror, Artemus could see the man at the table gazing in his direction. At least he was interested. Now to get him to approach. Artie gulped down more of the tea, then turned his back to the bar, hooking his elbows on the edge as though needing some support. He glared toward the patrons at the tables, fiercely enough that a couple of men quickly averted their gazes. Whether they knew who he was or not, they did not want any trouble with him.
Uh-oh. This might be too easy! Out of the corner of his eye, Artie saw the man at the table motion to a passing waiter, who leaned down to hear what was being said, then looked directly toward Artie at the bar before nodding his head and accepting a gratuity from the seated man. The waiter made his way to the bar.
“Mr. Gordon, that fellow back there would like to talk to you.”
“So? Is that my problem?” Artie slurred his words slightly.
The waiter cleared his throat nervously. “Well, he said to tell you that he sympathizes with what happened to you, and he wants to help you get back at them.”
“You don’t say?” Now Artie stared directly at the seated man, who smiled and lifted his glass.
Artemus knew he had to leave the bottle of tea on the bar. He could not risk the discovery of the fake drink, in case his newfound friend decided to sample it. So he filled his glass then put the bottle down. After digging into his pocket for a crumpled bill to place alongside the bottle, he handed another coin to the helpful waiter, then, carrying his full glass, slowly meandered through the tables. He was careful to sway a little, but not too much. He did not want to appear so inebriated as to be unable to comprehend what was going to be imparted to him.
Gaining the table he looked down at the man. He knew this man’s identity already. What he did not know, and hoped to learn, was how deep his involvement was. “Who are you and what do you want?” Artie demanded.
“Sit down, Mr. Gordon. My name is Albert Lakewood. I have a proposition for you.” Lakewood was probably in his forties, his dark hair slicked back with too much oil—scented oil that reeked sickeningly all around him. His clothing were what would be described as “dapper,” a green plaid suit, dark green necktie fastened with a stickpin bearing a large diamond. He also wore a diamond ring. This was not the man they wanted, but the hope was he would lead them to the real quarry.
Artie pulled out a chair, seemed to nearly lose his balance as he plopped into it. “What do you want? You want to gory details? I’ll give them to you! My partner, my friend…” He paused, momentarily pressing his hand over his eyes as though overcome with emotion. “I never thought he would stoop so low. I thought I could trust him… and her!”
Lakewood smiled in sympathy. “I know, I know, Mr. Gordon. I heard all about it and it’s reprehensible. I am sure you want vengeance. I can show you a way.”
Artie squinted at him. “How can a newspaper writer…”
A raised hand stopped his words. “I’m not a newspaperman, Mr. Gordon. But I can help you gain a sweet revenge against West and Miss Fortune, along with the whole of the Secret Service. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To rub their noses in the mud?”
“Or blood,” Artie chuckled, then hiccuped. “’Scuse me. Did you see what I did to that bastard West? He always claimed he was my pal, my buddy… my brother! First chance he gets, he stabs me in the back. You know what?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know what? He was jealous. I had the beautiful woman, not him. He could never keep his hands off the pretty ones, but I got to Lily first. Not only that, I was looking too good. Iwas the one doing all the work, solving all the cases. Jim West, he’s a hog. He wants all the glory, and he got jealous when I started to get the credit and attention, so he decided to take Lily away from me.”
“A lot of people already knew that you were the real brains of the partnership. West struts around, gets the ladies and the glory, while you do all the grub work.”
“That’s right, that’s right. The grub work. Y’know? He didn’t like it when I got engaged to Lily. He kept trying to move in on her. Y’know? I can see it now. Y’know? He was after her right from the start.” Artemus picked up his glass and drank deeply.
“I believe that, Mr. Gordon.” Lakewood watched as Artie emptied his glass, and as soon as it was placed back on the table, he picked up his own bottle and filled it.
Now I’ve got to be careful. This is the real stuff. Drink enough, but not too much. Got to keep a clear head. “So, whattya got to say to me?”
“I told you. I have a friend who wants to help you get even. What do you think is the best way to get revenge on West and the Secret Service?”
Artie pretended to ruminate on this for a moment, taking a swallow of the excellent whiskey. Goes down smooth. Take care, Artemus. “Well, I gotta show them up. I gotta show them I’m better, smarter than they are!”
Lakewood’s smile was large, revealing a gold tooth at one side. “Then my friend is the perfect man to help you do that, Mr. Gordon. Want to meet him?”
W*W*W*W*W
So far, so good. Jim West crouched in the darkness of the alley across the street from the front entrance of the hotel and watched his partner leaving with Lakewood. This was the part that he hated most. He could not take the chance of being spotted, thus would be unable to follow Artie from here. They had arranged several ways to keep in touch, but that would be later. For now, Artemus was completely on his own. Other than Lakewood, they had no clue as to whom they were dealing with. The man leaning against a lamppost smoking a fat cigar might be one of them; so could the hooker eyeing that man speculatively from a dozen feet away.
The two men walked down the street about half a block, with Artie continuing to behave as though slightly intoxicated, swaying a bit, talking loudly. A closed carriage with a smartly dressed driver waited on the corner, and they got into it. All Jim West could do was watch it move off down the street before it turned left at the first intersection.
Over the last three months, two agents had been murdered here in Denver. The first man. Harold Barkley, had sent a brief report to Colonel Richmond stating that he had been approached and offered a substantial bribe to turn traitor against the service and the United States. He was going to play along, he said. A couple of days after that report was received, he was found shot to death.
The second man, Elton Hirsch, had been sent to Denver to investigate the incident. Within two weeks of his arrival, he was dead as well. His reports had indicated he had a line on the man who might be behind the slaying of Barkley. He mentioned Lakewood, but he did not have the name of the big boss yet. His death was the warning that something extremely serious was occurring.
Jeremy Pike had been the next agent to hit Denver. Like Artemus, Jeremy had a knack for disguise, and rather than announce his identity and purpose, as Hirsch had done, Jeremy had used several roles in order to acquire information. What he learned caused Richmond to decide to bring in his two top men, West and Gordon.
Those two arrived in Denver openly last week. Artemus had been delighted to receive the assignment, because Lily Fortune’s acting troupe was already in Denver. He told Richmond and Jim later that something Lily said actually gave him the idea of how to portray a public rift between himself and his partner, thus setting him up to be contacted by the mysterious person they sought. Lily had simply mentioned that in a sense it was too bad everyone knew that he and Jim were such close friends, because separating one of them from the other and from the service to thus be accessible to the plotters was unlikely to be accepted.
Artemus had already told her that Colonel Richmond had vetoed the idea of one of them portraying a turncoat, which the colonel stated would not be feasible because of the publicity received during and after the previous incident using that ploy. He then asked her if she would participate in setting him up to be contacted. When she first hesitated, Artemus misread her thoughts, and assured her that she would be in no danger.
His heart had nearly burst with love when she grasped his hands to say quietly, “No, Artemus. I’m not worried about me. I just don’t know if I want to be the one to put you into a possibly perilous situation. You know I could not bear it.” His next concern had been whether Jim would mind being portrayed as a cad. He should have known better. His partner had laughed heartily when Artie worriedly mentioned the word.
The reports published in the evening papers stated that Gordon had publicly demanded that West be dismissed from the service. When that ultimatum was denied, Gordon had himself resigned. Artemus Gordon had been free with his livid quotes about his partner and the service, but “no comment” had been the response from other agency members, including Richmond and West. Miss Fortune had gone into seclusion in her hotel.
It’s a good thing I know that Artie was acting in the hotel bar. He scared me. Jim West touched his still tender mouth as he left his post and headed toward the rear of the alley. Though swollen and discolored, the bleeding had stopped. They had agreed beforehand that Artie would strike him, and in order to be believed, it had to be a real blow. In San Francisco, Jim had slugged Artemus, but he had pulled the punch, knocking his partner down, but not severely hurting him. The newspaper boys who witnessed that scenario did not need as much convincing as they raced off to file their stories.
Jim had tried his best to dissuade Richmond from this plan—out of Artie’s hearing of course. He did not want his partner to think he did not have confidence in him. That was not the situation at all. Artemus had proved too many times that he was more than capable of handling dangerous situations. But a good many of those situations had occurred while he was in disguise, under another persona—and often in a circumstance where he needed to help Jim in some manner, frequently to save his life.
Jim had left his horse waiting in the rear of the buildings. He had not wanted to risk that Lakewood had someone watching the area around the front of the hotel. They knew that the man they wanted—the unknown man—was extremely clever. He had trapped and killed two very capable and experienced agents already.
Artie has saved my life so many times. What if I can’t save his? What if I fail him, trying to do what he always did for me, backing him up?
Jim West had confidence in his own abilities. He had confidence in those of his partner. But this situation seemed backward. It was not a case where Artie went ahead, in disguise, to size up the situation, the method they often used. Nor would Artie be standing by, ready to move in, using some guise that would unbalance the thinking of the culprits they were trying to catch.
The two agents had learned that Colonel Richmond had initiated attempts to come up with a plan soon after Barkley’s death, and had warned Hirsch that he had received information that “something” was in the works. If West and Gordon had not been tied up in another case at the time, he would have assigned them instead of Hirsch. After Hirsch’s death, Richmond had sent Pike in, and what Jeremy learned confirmed what was already known, and garnered further information—but still too little to act.
The information Richmond had received earlier indicated some major crime was being planned, one that apparently required—or at least would be facilitated by—the presence of an agent, or ex-agent, who possessed particular, valuable information. Though they did not yet know who was plotting the scheme, Richmond knew he had to try to get someone into the organization. He had been considering Jeremy Pike because Pike was somewhat lesser known than West and Gordon, before Artemus came up with his idea.
“Has to be the mint.”
Jim smiled as he mounted the satin black horse. All three men had said those words almost simultaneously. The Denver mint was the primary government installation here, or at least the one that would yield a worthwhile fortune to some opportunistic and clever thief. Like Jim, Artie knew the mint inside and out. They had helped set up security measures, had visited often. Unsuccessful robbery attempts had been tried before. Who was this man who thought he knew how, with the assistance of an insider, to successfully accomplish this feat?
W*W*W*W*W
“Mr. Gordon, this is indeed a great honor for me. My name is Alaric Compton. I’m very grateful you agreed to talk to me. What has happened to you is shameful. Shameful!”
Artemus accepted the hand of the imposing man standing before him. Like Lakewood, he would stand out in a crowd, but in a different manner. Compton had the appearance of a sophisticated man, his clothing perfectly tailored, his shirt snowy white at the collar and cuff. Instead of diamonds, however, his tie clasp was a muted silver, with the design of a crown etched in the middle of a simple band, matching his cufflinks, which were silver squares etched with the same crown. He was a broad-shouldered man, but not overly tall, not more than two or three inches taller than Artemus. As well as sophistication, he had the appearance of strength, both in his physical build and his mien. A very handsome man, probably fifty or so, with steel gray hair and almost matching eyes.
“My pleasure.” Artie looked around the well-appointed living room. The moon was not very high yet, so he had not been able to see much of the outside of the house in the darkness. Nonetheless, he had gained an impression that it was not very large, and not very formidable. The inside was completely the opposite. Loveless would admire this man’s tastes. But who is he? Why have we not heard of him before?
“Please sit down. Would you like some coffee?”
Artemus deliberately scowled and stared at the sideboard where crystal carafes contained amber liquids. Then he muttered, “If that’s all you have.”
Compton chuckled. “For now, Mr. Gordon. For now.” He waved a hand, and Artemus almost jumped as a man seemed to materialize from nowhere to head for the door that Artie knew led to the hall through which he had entered with Lakewood, who had now vanished.
He quickly realized that the man in butler’s attire had been standing back against the very dark drapes behind Compton, out of the sphere of the illumination of the single lamp in the room, which was on the table next to the chair Compton settled into. That the butler was also swarthy—perhaps Spanish or Portuguese—had helped camouflage him as well.
Artie settled into a plush chair, and rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s been a long day.”
“I imagine you are very weary, Mr. Gordon. No man should have to endure such betrayal, especially not one of your sterling reputation. I understand your superior took West’s side. I can only imagine that the green-eyed god jealousy was involved on Mr. West’s part.”
“A green-eyed agent,” Artie snarled. “Damn…” He cut off his words, clenching his teeth together as the servant returned with a silver carafe on a tray along with a pair of bone china cups, once again displaying the design of a crown. Odd that like Compton’s personal adornment, the emblem was done in silver, rather than gold. He accepted the cup, lifted it to take a sip, but paused it close to his mouth, shifting his gaze. “Are you royalty?”
Compton smiled. “In blood, but unacknowledged. I’ll explain in greater detail later. But for now, I merely want you to know that I am on your side. I know the feeling of being betrayed, although in my case, a woman was not involved. I have seen Miss Fortune on the stage, and she is indeed a lovely woman. Not unexpected that other men would pursue her. I would imagine that after your long association with Mr. West, it must be galling that he would do something so traitorous.”
“I never knew,” Artie grumbled. “He fooled me. All this time, he was climbing the ranks by standing on my shoulders, and I never knew. Never suspected.” He shook his head sadly, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, feigning grief. He dropped his hand abruptly, allowing fury to twist his features. “Then he went after my fiancée!”
“That is indeed the ultimate insult, Mr. Gordon, especially from a man you considered your friend. I’ve never met Mr. West, but I’ve certainly heard about him. I often wondered how much of his reputation was truly earned. He seemed like an admirable fellow… before now.”
“I thought he was my friend,” Artemus moaned, putting his cup and saucer on the small lacquered table next to his chair. Again he rubbed his eyes. “I’m so blasted tired I can hardly think straight.”
“Of course you are. Forgive me, Mr. Gordon. I’ll summon Raymond to escort you to your room.”
Artie looked up. “My room?”
“Of course. You can’t go back to that hotel. We’ll fetch your belongings tomorrow. You are my guest, and an honored one.”
“Well… well, I sure appreciate that, mister… mister…” Artie chuckled in an embarrassed manner. “Now I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Compton. Alaric Compton. But don’t worry. We are going to be great friends. You won’t forget again.”
W*W*W*W*W
“Well, he’s in the lion’s den,” Jim scowled.
Jeremy Pike smothered the smile that threatened. Colonel Richmond had related the long hours of debate he had held with his top agent regarding the assignment of roles. Both knew as well as Jim did that Artemus was up to the task. They also knew the close friendship between the pair, and that this was a reversal of roles for them. Artie could adapt more easily than Jim.
“As long as he plays along,” Jeremy said, reaching up to scratch under the scraggly beard pasted to his chin, “things will be fine.”
“If only we knew who we’re dealing with. You haven’t heard…?” Jim paused. He knew that Pike would have revealed that information if he had it.
Jeremy shook his head patiently. “All I know is that this Lakewood is a go-between. He’s the one who contacted Hal Barkley for certain. And he may have been in touch with Elton, though I have been unable to confirm that.”
Jim West heaved a noisy sigh and threw himself down on the sofa in the parlor car, sprawling with his head against one armrest. “I hate just… waiting.”
“I heard Artemus say that a few times.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jim grimaced. “But Artie is the patient one. Not me. Twenty-four hours. It’ll be at least that long before Artie can arrange to contact one of us.”
“And maybe longer. We have no idea where he is, Jim. Only the suspicion that he’s still in Denver. Remember Loveless’s little hideout…”
“I know.” Jim pulled himself to a sitting position. “Denver is getting to be a big city. Not easy to keep track of people and places. At least the mint is on guard.”
Now Jeremy lowered himself into a chair at the table. “If the mint is the target. I could not come up with any information to confirm that aspect. Just vague rumors that something big is planned, that that was why this mystery man wanted a government agent on his payroll.”
“Now he’s got the best. He must know of Artie’s connection with the mint security setup.”
“And he probably feels he’s got what he needs,” Jeremy added. “Which means that the plans—whatever they are—will go forward.”
“Yeah, and all we have to do is sit quietly and wait to hear from Artie. Blast it!”
W*W*W*W*W
“Artemus! Artemus! Wake up!”
Artemus Gordon awakened but did not open his eyes, his whole being frozen with the sound of the familiar voice close to his ear. Then a hand touched his shoulder, and he rolled over… to stare into the moonlit face of Jim West.
“What the devil are you doing here?”
“The colonel got impatient, Artemus. He wants to know what’s going on?”
“What do you mean, the colonel? I’m off the force, remember? And you’d better get out of here before I start yelling!”
Surprise was evident on the intruder’s face. “Artemus, what’s the matter with you. I need to find out if you’ve been successful. Did you infiltrate?”
Artie sat up now, his hand slipping under his pillow. He had been a little surprised that Compton did not disarm him, and he had placed the pistol under his head so he would be aware if anyone attempted to grab it later. Lifting his hand, he pointed the gun. “Get out of here, West. I could shoot you and claim I thought you were a burglar. Justifiable homicide. And I’d do it with pleasure right now.” He kept his voice low and cold, anger and hatred in his eyes.
The bedroom door opened, and the glare of the lamp Alaric Compton held illuminated the scene fully. Compton wore a satiny dressing gown now… in dark blue with the silver crown emblazoned on a breast pocket. “Calm down, Mr. Gordon,” he said smoothly, smiling. “I don’t want you harming an important cog in our plans.”
Artie threw his blankets back, slipping off the bed, attired in the nightshirt Compton had loaned him. He still held the gun and looked from one man to the other. “What are you talking about? Jim West is in on this? Then maybe I don’t want to be!”
Compton laughed now. “I wondered whether Janus could still pull it off. Obviously he can, to fool West’s partner.”
Artemus’s eyes widened as he stared at the man attired in the blue jacket with the leather lapels. “Janus! He’s in prison.”
“I was,” that man said, his voice completely different now. “Mr. Compton was kind enough to see to my… release. I’m pleased to be able to help him take down the man who put me in prison. Or one of them at least. Glad to be on your side, Mr. Gordon.” He held out his hand.
Artie hesitated, then accepted the hand briefly, still appearing stunned. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry to have attempted to trick you, Mr. Gordon,” Compton said, putting his lamp on a bureau. “But I had to be certain. I can assure you that you passed with flying colors.”
“Well, Janus is lucky I didn’t shoot first, as the saying goes. I’m not sure I’m going to like having to look at that face too often!”
“Just tell yourself that because of Janus’s face, we are all going to become very, very wealthy men.”
Artemus looked from one to the other again. “You’re going to try to pass him off as Jim West?”
“With the knowledge of West’s behavior and activities that you will be able to impart, as well as what Janus learned while in the employ of the esteemed Dr. Loveless, I have no doubt of his success.”
Artie shook his head. “You’re forgetting that West is here in Denver, and his presence is well known.”
“True. But I have plans to take care of that. Don’t worry, Mr. Gordon, when the time comes, you will be there to witness James West’s disgrace. You will even participate. But that’s in the future. I apologize again for interrupting your sleep. I hope you rest well. We’ll see you at breakfast. Janus?”
Compton took the lamp again, and the two men departed. Artemus Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That was too damn close! Thank God for the moonlight that allowed me to notice the lack of a bruise or cut on Janus’s mouth or I might have easily said something I would surely regret!
He sat down on the bed, all notions of returning to sleep currently vanished from his mind. This was one thing they had not counted on, had not remotely imagined. Janus! Loveless had done his usual superior job in altering the face of a man whose build and coloring, even the eyes, closely resembled James West. He had come very near to fooling Artemus on that occasion, had Janus not made the telling slip with a query concerning dear old “Aunt Maude,” combined with the telegraph message from Washington asking about West’s whereabouts.
So Compton had a plan to substitute Janus for Jim. How? With the purported feud between the two agents, not to mention his own resignation, they could not be seen working together. Very likely Janus indeed could fool people not closely acquainted with Jim. The remark Compton made about his plans for Jim, that Artemus could participate in his “disgrace,” was worrisome. Compton obviously planned to have Jim out of the way so as not to interfere in whatever scheme he had set up involving the doppelganger.
And I can’t get word to Jim. Unlikely that Compton will allow me to roam free, even though I passed this “test.” Not for awhile. I won’t be able to get to any of our plants to leave a message. I will need to convince Compton that I need to be seen in public or suspicions might be aroused. Even if it is only to continue my “carousing.” Taylor will be at the hotel bar for the duration of the plan…
Artie lay down, cradling the pistol against his chest, his eyes wide open as he stared at the moonlit ceiling. This room was as finely furnished as the parlor downstairs, and he had seen other excellent accouterments on the way up the wide polished staircase. Compton either had money, or he had friends who did.
Who in the devil is he, and why have we not heard of him before? Quite probably, the two murdered agents had been lured into some kind of trap by the elegant man. They would not have had any information, or reason to suspect him, either.
W*W*W*W*W
“Mr. West?”
Jim West lifted his head from the newspaper he had been pretending to read as he sat at the restaurant table, and gazed at the well-dressed, neatly bearded man who paused beside it. He recognized Jeremy Pike, of course, but pretended not to. “Can I do something for you, sir?”
Jeremy sat down opposite, and extended a card over. “How did you get here so fast?” he asked in a low voice, smiling ingratiatingly as befit his current role as a theater entrepreneur.
Jim gazed at the card for a long moment. “What do you mean?” he replied in an equally quiet but pleasant tone.
“I just left you down on Hawk Street playing cards. You were still there when I left.”
Jim got to his feet, pulling some cash out of an inside coat pocket to drop on the table, speaking in a normal though somewhat icy tone. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I can help you. I don’t see the current situation as fitting for the stage.” As he turned away, he lowered his voice. “The Wanderer, quick.”
Jim West reached the railroad yards and the train long before Pike, but was not surprised. Jeremy would not compromise his identity by following a direct route. Jim spent the time at the telegraph key, getting to his feet as the door to the car opened. “Jerry, what did you mean when you said you saw me on Hawk Street playing cards?”
Pike threw his hat on the desk. “Just that. I was in the saloon called the Red Queen talking to the gals about joining my, ah, show, when I spotted you at a table in the rear.”
“Playing cards? Gambling is against the rules.”
“Exactly. I figured you were onto something and had joined the game to get more information. You never looked my way, but that wasn’t surprising either.”
“Right. I wouldn’t want to suggest that I knew you. But it wasn’t me.”
“Yeah. I get that idea. Janus?”
“Just about has to be. I just sent some inquiries. He was sentenced to life at a maximum security prison. The warden knows the importance of keeping him out of circulation, as it wasn’t possible to change his appearance again. A doctor said that eventually time would cause some of the changes Loveless made in Janus’s appearance to alter on their own. But obviously not enough time has passed.”
“But how would he get here? Gotta be someone else, Jim. But I have to say I don’t know if anyone but Loveless could do a job like that.”
Before Jim could respond the telegraph key began to clatter. Both men listened silently, their countenances becoming grim. When the key ceased, Jim tapped off an acknowledgement, then looked at Pike. “Well.”
“How the devil could he have escaped?”
“You heard the message. ‘Investigation continuing.’ Has to be an inside job.”
Jeremy scowled. “I hate hearing that. But it does pretty much confirm that Janus is here. Funny that he’d be out in public like that.”
“It is,” Jim mused. “I’d say that it might be a setup, that we were supposed to become aware of him, except they’d have no reason to believe that I, or any agent, would be on Hawk Street.” He reached into an inside pocket for his cigar case, offering one to Jeremy, who shook his head.
“Is it possible,” Pike wondered aloud, “that he was playing poker to frame you, knowing… no.” He shook his head.
“Why do you say no? That seems plausible.”
“He wasn’t dressed like you, Jim. His attire was similar to what Lakewood wears—a cross between a riverboat gambler and flash city slicker.”
“I see what you mean. If someone wanted him to be mistaken for me…”
“James, none of this makes any sense.”
Jim finally lit his cigar, but did it absently, pitching the match into a nearby ashtray, then merely holding the smoke in his hand, his gaze on some point passed Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy waited. Finally Jim spoke. “This is something that Artie is much better at than I am, figuring out riddles. And damn it, we have to wait to hear from Artie. It’s been forty-eight hours!”
“We knew it might be awhile. After all, he has to gain… whoever’s… confidence.”
“Yeah.” Jim West did not voice his fears. Perhaps if he did not speak them aloud, Artie would remain safe. “I hate waiting.” How many times had he said that?
“You should have tried harder to win your debate with the colonel.”
Jim recognized that Jeremy was twitting him, trying to ease his impatience. “Yeah. The funny thing is, usually I can. With Artie’s backing.”
“Yep. But this time Artemus was on Richmond’s side.”
Jim stubbed out the unwanted cigar in the ashtray. “We’d better get back into town. I want to check some of the contact points just in case Artie was able to get a message through.”
“And I’ll head back to the Red Queen and see if the other Mr. West is still playing cards there. If he is, I’ll try to strike up an acquaintance. If not, I’ll see what I can learn about him. See you tonight.”
W*W*W*W*W
“Mr. Compton, I don’t want to seem ungrateful for your hospitality, but I’m thinking I should be out and about a bit.”
Alaric Compton lowered his wineglass and gazed at Artemus across the table with its fine linen and exquisite place settings, not to mention the perfectly prepared roast beef they had just supped on. “You mentioned that before, Mr. Gordon. I’m really not sure that’s necessary. I can easily make it appear as though you have left the city. I have contacts around the country who can arrange for you to be ‘present’ in any city you desire—Chicago, New York, San Francisco… West and his cohort in the Secret Service will believe you have departed Denver.”
Artemus smiled tightly. “I’m afraid you don’t know James West as well as I do, Mr. Compton. He doesn’t follow, nor believe gossip. And you forget, the agency has offices—and agents—in all those cities. They would confirm, or refute, my presence.”
“Hmm. You might be right.” Compton’s face revealed some satisfaction, as he apparently realized that he was already reaping the benefits of having a former agent on his side, for the inside knowledge that former agent could impart.
“My experience with the service tells me that if I have vanished from the streets at this point, not to mention my hotel, an investigation will soon be instigated. Despite I resigned—and perhaps because of it—a search will soon be underway.”
“Yes. Yes! What is your suggestion?”
“Simply that I take up my previous pursuits. I’ll be honest, Mr. Compton, I have never been much of a carouser. I’m afraid my anger upon coming to the realization of how my so-called partner and my sweetheart betrayed me caused me overdo it that evening. But for me to go into hiding, so to speak, might call too much attention my way. Do you understand?”
“Yes, in a convoluted manner, I do. You should know that West is still in Denver… as is Miss Fortune’s troupe. Your colonel has gone to Cheyenne, but is expected back. I believe the plans are that he will then travel east in your—in Mr. West’s train.”
“I see. That makes sense.” How the devil did you find out so much? The colonel’s movements are not usually public knowledge. “Mr. Compton, when will you be able to fill me in on your scheme?”
“Soon. I have a few more arrangements to make. Then it will be time to make use of your expertise. Soon we will all live the lives of kings.”
Artie cocked his head. “Is that the symbolism of the crown?”
“In a sense,” Compton replied, signaling to the ever present Raymond who stepped forward to refill his wine glass. Artie shook his head when the butler looked his way. “You see, my father was in line for the throne, and was cheated out of his heritage.”
Artemus blinked. “The throne… of England?”
“Of course. I’m afraid the details are somewhat sordid, so I won’t go into them for now. Suffice it to say that I intend to amass a fortune great enough to set up my own kingdom, and cause the Queen to regret that she refuses to acknowledge me.”
“I see. Have you selected a site for this kingdom?” Artemus knew he must not laugh, nor display any iota of doubt.
“South America, of course. Money goes a long way there.”
Artie could not help but glance around at the luxurious settings. “I rather had the impression that you were… well off already.”
“Oh, I have money. Over the years I developed a taste for fine living, thanks partially to our mutual acquaintance, Miguelito Loveless. He’s the one who pointed me toward Janus.”
Seeing the sour expression on Compton’s face as he mentioned the doppelganger’s name, Artie asked, “I’m surprised Janus isn’t here at dinner.” Somehow he was not surprised at the mention of the doctor’s name.
“Mr. Janus did a foolish thing, Mr. Gordon. I’m afraid he’s being punished.”
“Oh. I see.” Though intensely curious, Artemus felt it best to drop the subject for now. In the two days he had been residing in Compton’s home, he had developed what he believed was a good relationship with his host, and was gradually gaining his trust. He did not want to push too hard now, especially if Compton was on the verge of agreeing that it was time for Artemus Gordon to reappear in Denver.
The same applied to waiting to learn the plans for the robbery that was going to allow Compton to establish his South American kingdom… and reclaim the British throne. Acquiring that information was Artemus Gordon’s primary purpose in going through this dangerous ruse. However, patience was required. He wondered how Jim West was doing in that vein. Jim was not always the most patient of men.
W*W*W*W*W
Jim West paid for the newspaper and turned away from the newspaper stand, fighting the urge to curse aloud in his frustration. He had made the rounds. Taylor at the hotel bar had not seen Artemus Gordon since the night of the altercation. The man selling roasted peanuts on the corner a block away had not encountered the agent since the day they all met in Omaha to receive instructions before coming on to Denver to set up the deception. The story was the same with the young lady in the tobacconist, and the young agent manning the newsstand. Artemus had not made contact with any of them.
We need some information, Artie! Where are you? He knew of several reasons why Artemus had not appeared, primarily because he was still gaining the trust of his new “employer.” Jim was sure that Artie would talk his way out of the situation, whatever it was. Question was, when? Until they received word from Artie, they were in the dark.
Not even the information received regarding the escape of the man known as Janus was of much use yet. Someone—and it seemed that even the parties involved were not aware of that person’s identity—had bribed an assistant warden and a pair of guards. They had slipped Janus out of the prison, and worked a ruse that caused his absence not to be noticed until Jim West’s telegram was received, alerting the warden to check on that particular prisoner.
Knowing that Janus was involved was chilling. That meant that, somehow, James West’s reputation was going to be part of the plan. That also meant, Jim was aware, that he needed to be extra alert. Loveless had kidnapped him in order to create Janus. His plan had been to substitute Janus for the real agent. Chances were pretty good that… whoever… had the same idea, possibly including the part that had the real agent in his grave.
He looked up and down the street, seeing nothing untoward. His black horse was tethered in front of the tobacconist’s shop. Every person he noticed appeared to be going about normal business. Above the street, windows gleamed in the sun. Was there now someone behind one of those windows watching him, waiting for the opportunity to seize him? He knew he would not be attacked and killed openly. That would not work if the intention was to place Janus in his stead. His death would need to be kept hidden, at least for the time being.
Artie, tell us what’s going on!
W*W*W*W*W
Artemus learned the following morning what Janus had done to incur Compton’s wrath: he had taken an unauthorized foray into the saloons of Denver. The ex-convict sullenly claimed that after all the months he had spent in solitary confinement, he was entitled to some fun. “I agree with him, Mr. Gordon,” Compton blithely stated. “However, he risked our entire venture had he been ‘recognized,’ so to speak. Fortunately, that did not happen. Mr. Janus’s tastes do not equal those of the real James West. The types of public houses he frequents are not those that Mr. West would be likely to enter except in the line of duty. Mr. Janus realizes now that the only reason he is still alive is due to his value to our scheme.”
The only other scrap of information he was able to garner was overhearing Compton speaking to his servant, telling Raymond that when he shopped he should not purchase food for more than a week’s meals. Artie could only believe that meant that Compton planned to carry out the crime he was planning within that amount of time. Otherwise, why instruct the servant?
The good news was that Compton apparently arrived at the decision to trust his newest partner in that crime, saying that he believed Mr. Gordon was correct, that it would be wise for him to reappear in Denver. “I’ll leave it to your clever mind to devise an excuse for disappearing for three days,” Compton chuckled. “I’ll also trust your discretion that you will not over-imbibe and become too talkative.”
“No, indeed,” Artie assured him. “I’ve seen it happen too many times—and to the benefit of the service—when a careless fellow allowed demon rum to loosen his tongue. I’m an actor, Mr. Compton, as you undoubtedly are aware. I can portray a celebrant deep in his cups without actually sinking that low.” Compton laughed, and did not appear to recognize the irony of the remark.
W*W*W*W*W
“Jim!” Jeremy called out excitedly as he entered the parlor car of the Wanderer. “A break!”
Jim looked up from the rifle he had been cleaning. “Janus show up again?”
“Better. Artemus was back in the hotel bar, and he slipped Taylor a note with his money when he paid.” Jeremy Pike pulled a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. His disguise today was that of a staid, white-bearded merchant. “Appears to be in a private code.”
Jim got to his feet to accept the paper, thin onionskin type, tightly folded. He opened it carefully. “Yeah. It’s one Artie devised. Give me a minute.”
He sat down at the desk, taking a pad of paper and pencil as he studied the slip of paper. Jeremy waited, watching, and noticing how a deep frown appeared on Jim’s face. “Did I bring bad news after all?”
Jim glanced up, putting the pencil down. “Not exactly. Here’s what it says: ‘Alaric Compton. Caution. Janus is here. Spy?’”
“That’s all? Who’s Alaric Compton?”
The frown remained on Jim’s countenance as he shook his head. “I don't know. I feel as though I should know the name, but I don't know why. You’ve never heard it?”
“Nope. Not to my recollection.”
“Well, get on the key and make some inquiries.”
Pike sat down in the chair Jim rose to vacate. “At least Artemus’s note confirms our suspicions about Janus. They’re going to have to get you out of the way for him to step in.”
“Yeah. I just can’t think of why that name sounds familiar, blast it.”
Jeremy began to tap the key. “No one you’ve encountered in a job?”
“That’s just it. I don’t think so, but I know I’ve heard it.” Jim raked his fingers through his hair as he absently listened to the codes Pike was transmitting, requesting information on Alaric Compton. Where did I hear that name? He had the sense that remembering was very important. He was positive Compton had not been associated with any case they worked on. Not directly anyway. Alaric Compton was not a common name. Not likely someone else bore it.
“At least,” Jim said then with some relief, “Artie is alive, and apparently going to be allowed to be out and about. That must mean he’s gained a semblance of trust from this Compton. And that also means he should be able to get more information to us.”
“Carefully,” Jeremy agreed, lifting his hand from the telegraph key and leaning back. “He’s got to be very careful about it. And what does he mean by ‘Spy?’?”
“I’d say he has reason to believe someone in or near the department is on this Compton’s payroll.”
Pike frowned deeply. “I hate to think that. It would have to be someone here in Denver, and I can’t believe Taylor or any of the others are on the take.”
Jim considered this a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t be anyone in the department. Otherwise, Compton would be aware of Artie’s ruse.”
“Very true. But it’s someone passing along enough information to make Artemus believe he… or she… is spying.”
“Seems so. Maybe Artie will be able to provide more information later.”
“Well, as I said before, he’d better be careful.”
“He will. Disguised or no, Artie knows how to carry out a charade. But we need to find out who this Compton is.”
“It’ll take a little time,” Jeremy reminded him. “Remember, it’s a lot later in Washington than it is here… and it’s almost midnight.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Won’t be anyone to do the digging until morning. Jeremy, in the morning, go to the mint and make sure they are on high alert.”
“I kind of thought I should stick close to you. You’re going to be a target, Jim.”
“I doubt if anything’s going to happen in broad daylight. But I’ll be watchful in any case. Thanks for your concern, Jeremy, but I can take care of myself.”
Jeremy Pike knew better than to argue. He also knew that no one was more capable of looking after his own safety than James West. But they were so much in the dark right now. All they really knew was that apparently this Alaric Compton was planning a crime and needed the services of a couple of government agents—one publicly on the outs with the service, the other to be replaced by a duplicate. The second part of that equation was the troubling portion: the real James West would need to be taken out of circulation before he could be replaced with the duplicate.
“Is it possible,” Jeremy mused, “that this spy is in the mint? Colonel Richmond spent a lot of time there before leaving town. His plans could have become known.”
Jim nodded appreciatively. “Nose around, Jer. If that is the case, it has to be someone who has access to some information that alerted Artie. They don’t know about the ruse there… but that person would know of extra security that being set up.”
W*W*W*W*W