Chapter Six
Appearances are deceptive.
The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing – Aesop [Floruit 550 B.C.]
After leaving the police station, Artemus went to the hospital, primarily because he knew his superior would be checking up on him. Dr. Fifield was not in, but by complaining about the physician’s absence, then petulantly allowing another doctor to change the swathing bandage around his chest, Artie made sure that several nurses and a couple of doctors would remember that he himself had checked in. That doctor commented only to say that things “looked all right” especially as far as the bruises on Mr. Gordon’s body were concerned. When Richmond called on them, those hospital personnel would assure him that Artemus Gordon had gotten the checkup as instructed.
When he returned to the hotel and met the colonel for a late lunch, Artie was able to tell the truth when he said he was looked at by a doctor and that the doctor pronounced all was well. Richmond had the news that the judge had signed the order to permit inspection of the Kingston bank records, past and present. He was going to go take care of that chore himself, after first stopping at the police station to get the dates of the known murders. Did Agent Gordon want to accompany him?
Artemus thanked Richmond but said he was tired and thought he might lay down for awhile. They had not gotten much sleep last night, and perhaps his injuries were wearing him down. Artie could see by his sympathetic expression that the colonel might be thinking the fatigue was enhanced by grief; that perhaps Artemus Gordon was beginning to accept the possibility of the loss of his partner.
With a final grim word that he was also going to stop by the Navy office to learn whether they had had any luck chasing the
Carmela or in searching other ships that were still at the docks, the colonel left the table. Artemus merely nodded, quite certain that even if the Navy was able to apprehend the
Carmela, Jim West would not be aboard, and not because the beastly captain had tossed his captives overboard.
Jim was never on any ship. He was never shanghaied. Beryl Kingston has him, and I’m going to find him.Completing his meal, Artemus went up to his room and carefully checked his supplies. He had brought the “Theo Gaskin” costume home from the hospital with him, but he realized that he did not have the right makeup on hand. Theo had taken a bad beating a few days ago. Some bruises should still be evident, particularly if he had not had the care that Artemus Gordon had actually had, especially the ice to put on those bruises, bringing down the swelling and discoloration.
Jim’s idea to not tell anyone beyond the police about the mistaken identity might just turn out to be one of the best he ever had, Artie decided, taking the elevator down to the lobby again. He was certain his partner had never considered the fact that the disguise might be used, even needed, again. Jim undoubtedly felt, as Artemus did at the time, that not broadcasting that information might help to run the assailants to earth, if only by keeping them unaware of how much the authorities knew.
It had not. The quartet who had attacked him had pretty much vanished from San Francisco. At least no one had acknowledged seeing any of them when shown the sketches. Artemus had a strong suspicion they were at Kingston Hall, laying low for the time being, or at least were not using their usual haunts, like the bar where they had accosted him. He hoped the latter was the correct possibility.
Artemus knew that Colonel Richmond was right, that they had nothing remotely resembling proof right now that Beryl Kingston was involved in the murder-for-hire plot. Even if the inspection of the bank records revealed large deposits coinciding with the dates of murders, that might not be considered “proof” without further information. Someone like Harry Hazeltine would rip such evidence to shreds in court, and undoubtedly would provide “reliable witnesses” to testify regarding Gerald Kingston’s prowess as an investor and speculator. Even if the deposits continued after Kingston’s death, no doubt a canny attorney could discredit the prosecution’s case on such flimsy testimony.
Finding a captive Jim West on her premises would be rather strong proof. Not for one moment did Artemus believe that Beryl had ordered Jim killed. Not yet anyway. As well, he was confident that his partner would keep himself alive, even if that meant playing along with whatever grand plans Beryl had for him.
I just need to find him.He went to a favorite shop to purchase the correct tubes and sticks of makeup, then took a hack to the bar he had been in that night when he was attacked. At this time of day the clientele was sparse, but Artemus was glad to see the same bartender who had served him that night. The barkeep did not recognize him, of course, but he did recognize the description of the redheaded man, whom Artie identified as an old and valued friend he was hoping to find.
“Another acquaintance said he comes in here ever so often.”
That was true, the barkeep affirmed, but not the last few nights. “It’s not like Rusty. Him and his pals are usually here for a few beers and a card game, unless they have business out of town.”
“And does Rusty tell you when he’s going away?”
“Yeah, he does. See, I get a special keg of beer for him. He likes this one that comes from up north. Don’t favor it myself, but he pays extra to have it shipped in. So he tells me if he’s going to be gone a week, and maybe either I won’t order a fresh keg, or if there’s some left in the one we have, I’ll take it downstairs and put it on ice ‘til he comes back.”
“You’re one heck of a fine bartender,” Artemus beamed.
The man blushed. “Well, I gotta admit Rusty slips me a few bucks to take care of him like that.”
“Since I’m Rusty’s friend, I’m gonna do the same thing.” Artie pulled a bill from his wallet. “And do me a favor. If Rusty does come back today, say, don’t mention I was asking. I want to surprise him.”
Seeing the size of the bill, the bartender happily and speedily agreed. Upon returning to the hotel, Artie handed another bribe to the desk clerk, admonishing him to tell no one, and he meant
no one that Mr. Gordon had returned to the hotel. Not even Colonel Richmond. The clerk was someone baffled, but agreed. Artie winked at him. “What the colonel doesn’t know won’t hurt him, eh?”
“Oh. Oh yes, sir.” He was no more enlightened than he had been before.
As Artemus headed for the elevator, he smothered a grin, knowing he had confused the poor clerk even more. He was also certain that the desk clerk would heed his request. James West and Artemus Gordon had stayed in this hotel on previous occasions, so this clerk was aware of other strange goings-on.
Upon reaching his room, Artemus locked the door. He stripped off his jacket, opened his collar, and moved the room’s two oil lamps to the dressing table with the mirror. Placing his tubes and sticks in a strategic order, he pulled other items out of his makeup kit. Lastly, he placed a photograph against the mirror.
Lloyd Morris had produced that photograph out of a file which contained other information about Theo Gaskin. The picture was several years old, but Artemus could easily see how his disguise the other night had caused those four men to believe that Gaskin had returned to San Francisco, especially in the smoky light of the barroom. The darkness of the alley had not helped either.
I need to look even more like Gaskin than I did that night. The photograph showed him a mole on Gaskin’s cheek, and that the man’s right eyelid drooped slightly. Because of the age of the photo, chances were the eyelid sagged even more now, or had when he had last been in this area. Artemus Gordon worked slowly and carefully, leaning close to the mirror.
This may be the most important disguise I’ve ever created, he told himself.
Jim’s life—perhaps even my life—may depend on it.The problem was going to be Gaskin’s voice and mannerisms. Rusty and his friends had not given him an opportunity to speak, let alone reveal his disguise. If this ploy worked, Artemus knew he was going to have to talk as well as try to be convincing with his movements and stance. The beating would help to some extent; no one should be surprised if he was hunched and hobbled.
The knock on the door was not surprising. Hearing the firm footsteps in the hallway Artie had turned down the lamps. He waited quietly, ignoring the call of “Artemus, are you in there?” and after a second knock the footsteps moved away.
Good thing the colonel’s room is on another floor. Be easier to sneak out. I’m probably going to catch hell after this, if I live through it; and maybe even if I don’t!W*W*W*W*W
His next visitor was a surprise to Jim, though as he thought about it later, he knew he should not have been astonished that Harry Hazeltine came to see him. The lawyer instructed the guard who let him in to wait outside, and when the man hesitated, barked a command which the guard obeyed, though still obviously reluctant. Jim suspected the men had received specific orders from Beryl Kingston, and perhaps were unsure of Hazeltine’s status.
Jim had been standing at the window, staring down at the gate and the lane, willing his partner or the police or anyone to arrive. He refused to believe that Artemus was accepting the shanghaiing story, but he also was uncertain what Artie could do. He might have difficulty convincing other officials to help him. Jim had to admit he was unsure about the colonel, who at times could be very flexible, yet on other occasions was a strict military man.
It might be up to Artie alone… and of course whatever I can manage to do.Hearing the click of the door lock, he had turned, expecting the lavender-eyed woman, or perhaps a guard bringing more food. It was close to dinnertime. Instead, the bearded, nattily attired attorney entered, followed by the sentry, whom he summarily dismissed. Jim stood still and waited as Hazeltine took a few steps toward him.
“Mr. West, I trust you are comfortable.”
Jim merely gazed at him, hoping to impart his opinion of such an inane comment. The ploy worked, for after a few moments, Hazeltine’s complexion darkened, and he cleared his throat.
“I wanted to tell you that your capture and imprisonment were carried out against my advice. Mrs. Kingston can be a headstrong woman.”
Now Jim spoke in a quiet, almost unemotional tone. “I expect she’d have to be to run a gang of cutthroat murderers.”
The remark did not appear to faze Hazeltine. “I also want to mention that I am completely unarmed. I took care to remove everything from my person that might be used as a weapon or as a means of escaping.”
Jim shook his head slightly. “You expected me to attack you?”
“I know your reputation, Mr. West. You are not usually a man who simply sits back and awaits whatever might come.”
“What do you want, Mr. Hazeltine?”
“I came—without Mrs. Kingston’s awareness—to recommend that you surrender and yield to her wishes.”
“Why?”
“To save your life, of course. Beryl will have you killed if you continue to reject her demands.”
“No, I mean why did you come here, against her wishes and knowledge?”
“Because I think it’s in all of our best interests to move on rapidly.”
“By moving on, you mean leaving this area?”
“Possibly even the country. Beryl is headstrong, she’s also very stubborn at times. I’ve been trying to convince her that even if the authorities accept the ruse that you have been shanghaied, they are not necessarily going to drop the investigation that you initiated. I’m aware of the loyalty—as well as the brilliance—of your partner, Mr. Gordon. My recommendation is that we move our operations to another country, at least for awhile.”
“You’re worried about yourself, Mr. Hazeltine? I could tell you that thus far, no evidence has been found to link you to the ring, other than your close friendship with Mrs. Kingston, and the fact that you were Gerald Kingston’s lawyer.”
The attorney’s smile was tight. “There you have it, Mr. West. I am a lawyer. I am quite aware how loose ends can be tied up, roping in all parties. Occasionally some escape, but not often enough to suit me. No, I’m ready and willing to leave.”
Jim folded his arms across his chest. “Taking me with you?”
He did not have to explain what he inferred. “I’m also aware, Mr. West, that Beryl is infatuated—fascinated—by you. It began some time ago when you and Mr. Gordon participated in another case in this area and stories were printed in the newspaper. Sight unseen, Beryl started fantasizing having you in our midst. Now that she’s met you…. But I think I can hold my own, primarily because I’m of the opinion that you have little interest in her, especially now that you are aware of the truth about Beryl Kingston.”
Which won’t stop me from playing up to her if it aids my escape! “Surely you know she’s insane.”
Hazeltine merely nodded. “It runs in her family. Her grandfather was hanged for murdering three men. Her mother killed two of her own children and herself. Beryl escaped merely because she had disobeyed her father and gone to play with some friends. Her father knew of the possibility of madness in her, but he doted on her, his only surviving child.” Here the lawyer paused, shook his head slightly.
“What happened?” Jim asked despite himself. He knew more remained of the story.
“Beryl’s father objected to her marrying Gerald, despite that Gerald was a wealthy man. He was more than twice Beryl’s age, of course. So… Beryl killed her father. Poisoned his whiskey with a drug that simulates a heart attack. As you may be aware, Beryl knows quite a bit about drugs. She studied the subject intensively. She knew that the one she used on you yesterday would paralyze your limbs but you would remain conscious long enough to get you into the carriage, so as to make it look like you were entering willingly and avoid any semblance of a scene in a public place.”
Jim was quiet a long moment, absorbing what he had just heard. “And you’re willing to chance she might use some of her expertise on you?”
The lawyer smiled. “Beryl is headstrong, and insane, but she’s also very smart. She knows how important I am to her organization.”
“I presume you recruited the gang of killers.”
“Many of them, yes. Started some years ago after I became Gerald’s attorney. It began when I became aware that something in his financial situation wasn’t quite right, and when I confronted him, he told me the truth, intending, I’m sure, to kill me if I objected. I’m rather smart myself, Mr. West. I am a good lawyer, a successful one, but I’d never accrue the kind of money being an attorney that I could working along with Gerald, and later Beryl.”
“Mr. Hazeltine, you have not yet explained the reason for your visit.”
“Haven’t I? I suppose it’s this. I suggest you yield and join Beryl’s… company. You’ll be killed if you don’t. By participating willingly, you will become a rich man. But I also suggest you rebuff any advances Beryl makes toward you. Because I will kill you if you don’t.”
Jim chuckled, and seeing the startled expression on his visitor’s face, explained. “Looks to me as though I would have been better off had I actually been shanghaied. The way you explain it, Beryl will kill me if I reject her, and you’ll kill me if I don’t!”
Hazeltine’s stare turned into a glare. “It’s up to you, Mr. West. I know you to be a clever man. I suggest you use that cleverness to remain alive. But I also suggest you do not attempt to escape. Beryl detests disloyalty. She thought that Gerald was being disloyal by attempting to disband the company.”
“I see what you mean. Then I suppose I should offer you my gratitude, Mr. Hazeltine.”
“Don’t bother. I agree with Beryl on one aspect. Your talents, as well as your knowledge, will be great assets. However, you have far to go to prove yourself.”
Jim did not respond as Hazeltine spun to go back to the barred door, reaching through to pound on the wooden door. It was opened immediately and without a backwards glance, Hazeltine departed.
I think he’s a bit off his rocker himself! Not in the same way Beryl was mad, Jim decided, but in the manner in which numerous criminals appeared to be mentally unbalanced, unable to live an honest life, and certain that they were smarter and in some ways more morally correct that those who did follow the straight and narrow. Miguelito Loveless came to mind. Jim had to smile slightly.
Suppose Beryl Kingston met Loveless. What a pair that would be!He returned to the window and his vigil, watching the road and gate down below. He was quite aware that if Artie did come, he might not arrive by the front door. In fact, chances were he would try to find a different way in. Of course, Artemus might try one of his famous disguises, but which one would get him through the gate to gain access into the house…
Jim West’s heart seemed to momentarily stop beating as the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
Oh, no, Artie! You can’t do that! The orders are to kill Theo Gaskin if he reappears!W*W*W*W*W
“Ugh!”
Artemus allowed himself to loudly express the jolt of pain as the wagon bounced in and out of a rut and continued on at a rapid pace. He was, after all, Theo Gaskin, and so far as his captors knew, Theo was still recovering from the beating of a few days ago.
In truth, so am I! He planned to use the discomfort of his injuries to help his disguise along once they reached Kingston Hall.
He had no doubt that was where they were headed, even though he could not see much in the darkness beyond the high sides of the wagon. So far the ruse was working. In disguise, he had again visited the bar where he had encountered Rusty and his friends the first time. A different bartender was on duty than on either previous visit and that worked out well, because Artemus was able to ask his questions without arousing undue suspicion.
That bartender also said that Rusty had not been in the last few nights, but he had heard that the man was seen at a bar a few blocks down the street. The barkeep seemed a bit put out that a regular had deserted. Artemus purchased a shot of whiskey and drank it so as to have alcohol on his breath, then headed for the other establishment.
Luck was with him, for Rusty was there with two of his friends. Artemus, as Theo, pretended not to see them, going to the bar to purchase a bottle of cheap whiskey, then carrying it to a table. He had barely poured a drink when he was joined by the trio, who pulled out chairs and sat down uninvited.
“Never knew you was so stupid, Theo,” Rusty growled. “Always heard you was a pretty sharp tack.” He still wore the knit cap and his wild red hair still poked out from underneath it.
Artie kept his chin down on his chest. “Go ‘way. I don’t want no more trouble. I just wancha tuh take me to see th’ boss.” He allowed his words to slur, hoping that none of these men had known Gaskin well enough to recognize his voice. Rusty’s words had indicated he had not been well acquainted.
“The boss don’t wanna see you,” another of the men snapped. “We got orders…”
“I gotta big deal,” Artie interrupted. “Big, big deal. She wants to talk to me. Big money. Politician type, y’know.”
“In Canada?” Rusty inquired, sounding somewhat incredulous. Also, the use of the feminine pronoun had not fazed him.
Glad you told me. “Yeah. Canada. Big mucky-muck. Big deal. Big money. I gotta see the boss.”
He did not lift his head as a long silence ensued. He knew the men were looking at each other, trying to make up their minds whether to believe him or not, and what to do about it. Rusty finally asked, “Where you been the last couple days, Theo?”
“Hosh… hos… hoshpital. You boys hurt me pretty bad. Di’n’t give no time to talk. Big deal. Lotsa money. Maybe reward.”
“Reward?” one of the men echoed.
Artie barely glanced up. “You take me to the boss. She’ll be happy. Lotsa money.”
The silence was a little different this time. Although Artemus still did not raise his gaze, he could picture the men exchanging glances, this time considering the bonus they might receive. Finally Rusty spoke.
“Guess it won’t hurt to take him out there. He can be killed there just as easy.”
When “Theo” protested that he did not have a horse, and could not ride anyway, the men had “found” a wagon at a livery stable, or so they said. One man stayed with him while the other two went off and returned with the wagon. Their horses were tied behind it as they headed out of the city.
A full moon was coming up over the horizon, and Artie knew the landscape would soon be well lit. No fog again tonight, at least not in this area. Might come in handy later, if plans went as he hoped. None of these men had mentioned Jim yet. They may or may not even know that he was at Kingston Hall…
if he was at Kingston Hall.
Think positive, Artemus. Think positive. He has to be there. Because the wagon was slow, the trip to Kingston Hall consumed nearly twice as long as on horseback. Artie did not dare pull out his watch, but he suspected the hour was close to midnight. Yet, as the wagon pulled in through the gate, after being cleared by the ever-present guard, he saw that lights were blazing inside.
When Rusty pulled him out of the wagon bed, Artemus again did not need to feign the pain he experienced. Not as bad as when he had first awakened in the hospital a couple of days ago, but still sharp. The doctor today told him that although the rib seemed to be knitting well, he should still be careful.
The butler, Chase, opened the door, apparently hearing the commotion outside. He stared openmouthed for a moment as Artie stumbled up the stairs, Rusty and another man on either side, grasping his arms. Then the butler stepped back to allow them to enter.
“Mrs. Kingston is in the first parlor,” he said briskly.
He recognizes Theo too, Artie decided.
Artie allowed the two men to drag him along, mumbling drunkenly and trying to resist. Chase hurried ahead to open the door to the room, and apparently give advance warning, for when they entered. Artemus glanced up for just a moment. Beryl Kingston was on her feet, beautiful face a mask of rage, eyes like glittering stones.
“Gaskin! What the devil are you doing here? You were warned!”
Rusty released Artie’s arm and stepped aside slightly, pulling off the knit cap. His wiry hair sprang out like a porcupine’s quills. “Miz Kingston, he says he came back on account of he has a job for us… you.”
“Job?” She came closer. Artie kept his head down, continuing to sway slightly on his feet. He was aware that someone else was in the room, but he did not look up to see who it was. “What kind of job, Theo?” Artie mumbled something. “What?” She grabbed his hair with her hand, jerking his head up. “This isn’t Theo Gaskin!”
“Huh?”
“What?”
The three men who had accompanied Artie all exclaimed at the same time.
A new voice entered the conversation, coming closer. Artemus recognized Harry Hazeltine. “What do you mean, Beryl? Looks like Gaskin to me.”
She was staring at Artie’s face, still holding onto his thick hair. “Look at his eyes! Theo’s eyes are gray. Who…?” A satisfied smile flattened her lovely mouth. “Of course. I have heard of your famous disguises, Mr. Gordon. I certainly can see why my men mistook you for Theo.” Now she released his hair, but grabbed hold of one of the bushy sideburns, yanking it off.
Artie smiled in return. “That stings.” He straightened his body, and carefully removed the other sideburn. “Good evening, Mrs. Kingston. Nice to see you again.”
For a long moment, Beryl Kingston was silent, just gazing at him. Then she shook her head slightly. “I never heard that Artemus Gordon was insane. So there must be a reason for this.”
“A man needs a reason to visit a beautiful woman?”
Hazeltine was alongside Beryl now. “Don’t mess with him, Beryl. Let the boys take him out and get rid of him. They can dump his body in the bay…”
Beryl was waving a hand. “No, no. I know of a better use for Mr. Gordon. Obviously he’s looking for his late partner. Do you believe in ghosts, Artemus?”
“Indeed I do,” Artie replied enthusiastically.
“Search him,” Beryl ordered.
W*W*W*W*W
He had had some problem falling asleep, partly due to the brightness of the moon shining through all the unshaded windows, or so it seemed, and also due to the fact that he had been so sedentary all day long. Jim had just started to doze off when he heard the lock on the outer door rattle. He did not move other than to turn his head slightly so as to see the door.
Beryl Kingston entered first, followed by Artemus Gordon, attired in the same ragtag outfit he had been wearing the night he had been assaulted in San Francisco. Jim slowly sat up and rolled his legs off the divan, but did not stand up.
“Hello, Artie,” he said casually.
“James, good to see you again. Seems the sea air agreed with you.”
“Nothing like an ocean voyage to rejuvenate one,” Jim remarked, now getting lazily to his feet. Rusty and two other men had followed Beryl into the room, all three holding weapons.
Beryl left Artie’s side and crossed the moonlit room to Jim, taking his arm. “Isn’t it lovely that your dear friend came to join you, James? Now I
know you’ll want to accept my proposition, to keep Artemus happy… and healthy.”
“You have a point there,” Jim murmured. He wondered about the complacent expression on his partner’s face. What in the world was Artemus up to?
“For now,” Beryl said happily, “Artemus will have to share your quarters. I’m sure after you two discuss your situation, you’ll be ready to move to your own room downstairs, James, and leave the penthouse to Artemus.”
“Say,” Artie cried, “that’s not very fair!”
“I’m sorry, Artemus. Once James explains the situation to you, I’m sure you’ll understand. Good night to the both of you. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
The barred door and the wooden one were both closed and locked. Jim sank down on the sofa, drawing one leg up. “Artemus, I think you’ve got things a little mixed up. You are supposed to
rescue me, not join me!”
With an exaggerated motion of his arm, Artemus snapped his finger while he strolled toward the front windows. “I
knew I was forgetting something. Quite a luxurious penthouse view, James.” He turned from the window. “A little sparse on furnishings, though.”
“And the sofa is mine, pal. I got first dibs.”
“Hmm, floor looks nice and soft. I take it dear Beryl is pressuring you to join their little corporation.”
“Yep. And now she has you to hold over my head. You disguised yourself as Gaskin again? Are you crazy?”
“Crazy, I
hope, like a fox, partner. What’s the situation here. Bars look pretty solid.”
“They are. Nice cozy little prison cell.”
“You haven’t made an escape attempt? I’m surprised at you. Getting soft in your old age?” Artie sat down on the other end of the couch.
“My teeth aren’t up to chewing through steel bars. That’s about the only weapon I have left. I have some explosive clay, but no fuse and no match anyway.”
“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t I teach you better than that?” Artie looked toward the barred door. “Any chance we’ll have a surprise visit?”
“I can’t promise it, but it seems unlikely. Why? What do you have in mind? They searched you, didn’t they?”
“Quite thoroughly… almost.”
Jim grinned. “What did they miss?”
“I have some tape in my jacket collar and matches in my boot heels.”
“Enough to cut through those bars?”
Artie’s face took on some doubt. “I don't know, Jim. They are pretty thick. Maybe in conjunction with your clay. Next question is… which way do we go?”
“Pretty much has to be out the door, Artie. I’m pretty sure we’d have a long jump if we went out the window. No trees near enough to grab, and I don’t remember seeing any vines or handholds of any sort.”
“That’s my impression as well. How many men are here?”
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve seen three or four different ones bringing my meals… and the three who escorted you up here tonight were not among those.”
“So we can count on at least a half dozen and probably more. Seems to me we need to tiptoe out of here and hope that Lloyd was able to talk Richmond into following me.”
“You came out here without the colonel’s knowledge?”
“You know he wouldn’t have gone for it, Jim. I’m pretty sure he thinks you are long gone, or even dead, buying the shanghaiing story. I talked it over with Lloyd. He couldn’t follow me to the bar where I met Rusty and his friends, but I was certain where I’d be taken…”
“If you weren’t murdered in the city.”
“Well, there was that possibility. But I arranged for Lloyd to go see Richmond and tell him this evening… too late for the colonel to do anything about it. The plan is to get some help from the army and come on out here. But…”
“But you don’t know, first, if Richmond will go along with it, or be too angry to be reasoned with, whether the army will cooperate, whether…”
“Yeah, little things like that.”
Jim West sighed noisily. “Artemus, one day you are going to be the death of me. And probably yourself.”
Artie grinned. “But we sure have a lot of fun, don’t we?”
Jim could only chuckle. “Yeah, there’s that. What’s the layout outside the door there? Stairs?”
His partner looked at him in some surprise. “You don't know?”
“I was unconscious when they brought me up here.” Jim realized Artemus had no idea how that had happened, so he explained briefly. “I know I might have been naïve, but it never occurred to me that she would do anything so bold in broad daylight, in the middle of a city street.”
“Beryl Kingston is very clever, Jim.”
“She’s also insane. I think that’s what bothered me from the very beginning. I was… struck by her beauty, yet something seemed to be amiss. She sees nothing wrong with murdering people she never met just to gain money.”
“She must have pretty high overhead with all the people on her payroll.”
“Yeah. She had Gerald Kingston killed because he wanted to quit the business and enjoy his ill-gotten gain.”
“And now,” Artie said, nodding, “she wants you to replace Gerald.”
“Seems so. Now that you’re here, I’m pretty sure she thinks she has a hammer to hold over my head.”
“Ah,” Artemus grinned, “but she doesn’t know you as well as I do, huh?” He laughed, drawing a grin and a shake of the head from his partner. Then both sobered as Artie said, “We need to figure out what we’re going to do, Jim. Morning is going to come all too soon.”
Jim pushed himself off the sofa and walked to the front window, leaning as closely to the bars as he could. “Earlier, I could see some light on the ground below, which I figured came from the lamps in the front parlor. It’s gone now. Which may indicate everyone has turned in.”
“Or it may not,” Artie countered, getting to his feet. “However, we have to take some chances, the way I look at it.”
“Exactly.” Gripping a bar with one hand, Jim lifted his foot to push the heel of his boot aside and extract a lump of claylike material. He did the same with the other heel, as Artemus pulled off his jacket to begin slipping long and slender strips from under the collar and lapel. He also produced several short matches from his boot heels.
“How much fuse do you have?” Jim inquired.
Artemus stretched out a coil that he had brought out along with the chemical tape. “Probably a half hour total here. What do you have in mind?”
Jim explained his ideas and his partner concurred. They would use the chemical tape to burn through the bars—Artemus stating frankly that they might need to double the tape because of the thickness of the iron and thus the exit space could be pretty narrow—then a small portion of the clay to burst the lock on the outer wooden door. The remainder of the clay would be left on the floor of the room, with what was left of the fuse burning. The subsequent explosion would serve as a distraction in one form or another.
The biggest problem turned out to be detaching a portion of the fuse to use on the door, because neither had a knife. Bending it back and forth innumerable times then standing on it while pulling finally separated a short piece. Artemus laid it and a small chunk of clay aside while he carefully placed the chemical tape over the bars.
They had estimated the need to remove a section of at least three bars in order for them to squeeze through. The bars were three or four inches apart. Jim tried to convince Artie to go for four because the wrapping around his chest and midriff was going to add to his girth, and it could be difficult as well as painful for him to squeeze through. Artemus adamantly refused.
“Not until we see how much we need to burn through these bars. I wonder what the devil this room was constructed to hold. A gorilla?”
“That was in Kansas,” Jim reminded him dryly, and quickly informed him of what Beryl had told him of the history of this house.
“Nothing like a handy little tower jail,” Artie returned. “You never know when you're going to have to imprison a guest.”
He stepped back from the bars, producing a match from his shirt pocket. “Ready?”
“As much as I’ll ever be,” Jim nodded.
Artemus ignited the match, then quickly held it to ends of the tape stretched across the bars in two areas. Both men stepped back, turning their heads slightly so as to not gaze directly at the garish illumination caused by the burning chemicals. The room filled with the acrid odor as the flame crossed the tape and died.
Jim quickly stepped forward and rammed his forearm across the bars. “Damn! Artie, they aren’t giving!” He slammed the bars again and they didn’t budge.
“Ah, Mr. West,” Artemus said, using his best Scots burr, “ne’er let it be said that a Gordon is not parsimonious!” He produced more of the tape from inside his shirt. “Got enough here for one more try, though single not double.”
“Think it’ll be enough?” He thought about chewing his partner out for causing the moment of despair, but decided it would be futile. Artie would be Artie.
The process was repeated and this time when Jim shoved the bars, they gave, though not without some resistance. They had not burned all the way through. However, the space was wide enough for Jim to slide through. He turned to help his partner. Artie first lit the fuse of the ball of explosive clay on the floor and then wriggled through, trying to hide the discomfort it caused. Jim’s expression revealed he was not entirely successful, but neither said anything.
The next step was to carefully arrange the smaller ball of clay around the door lock, then light it and step to the side. The explosion was a mere “poof!” but was enough to fracture the mechanism, especially when Jim slammed against the door with his foot. They stepped cautiously out onto the landing ahead of the darkened stairwell, and listened. The house was very quiet.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes before the second explosion goes off,” Artie whispered.
“Then let’s go.”
Once they started down the stairs they left the moonlight behind, and the darkness became complete, making it necessary to grasp the narrow handrail tightly while carefully taking one stair at a time. Jim was in front, and he bumped into the door. A moment later, Artemus bumped into him.
Grasping the doorknob, Jim held his breath, hoping it was not locked, knowing they would have to make quite a bit of noise to break it open if it was. But the latch turned easily, and quietly. It opened into a broader hallway lit by lamps in wall sconces.
“Stairs are to the left,” Artie said softly.
They entered a wide hallway, with a thick, plush carpet. Lamps in wall sconces were turned low, but provided enough illumination to view a number of closed doors. The two men did not speak as they slowly walked toward the stairs. Having no knowledge of who was sleeping behind those closed doors, they did not want arouse anyone. They were unarmed, and if Beryl’s men slept here in the house, those men would definitely have weapons.
Reaching the main floor without incident, they carefully and quietly unlocked and opened the front door, peeking out through a crack. Down the lane, a light was glowing in the guard’s little shack.
“I was hoping they just locked the place up at night,” Artie muttered.
“No sign of the cavalry,” Jim said. The opposite side of the road was a thick stand of trees. “If we can get by that guard, we can go through the woods, maybe find some help on the other side.”
“Unless the other side opens onto a sheer cliff over the ocean, or an impassable creek,” his partner groused.
Jim just laughed softly. They stepped out onto the porch, each ducking behind a pillar on either side. “One of us needs to try to scale the fence and get around the guard,” he said, then grinned as Artie made a “be my guest” gesture.
Using some of the overgrown shrubbery as shelter, the two men made their way from point to point across the broad yard, occasionally looking back toward the house, seeing no sign of activity there.
If we can overpower the guard, Jim mused,
we should be able to get a weapon or two. He knew they had to do it without any noise. The explosion should be going off within about ten minutes, and with any luck, the ensuing confusion would give them a good head start.
Reaching a point behind a large bush about ten feet and to the right of the locked gate, Jim nodded to Artemus, and then made a quick and quiet dash for the iron fence. His momentum allowed him to leap for the top rail and hoist himself up, avoiding the few “spear-like” ornaments at the top of the railing. The moonlight permitted him to see that he inadvertently had chosen a spot where the ground on the other side was filled with loose rock.
That meant slowing down, lowering himself over the other side cautiously so as not to disturb the rocks and make no sound that would alert the guard. Chances were good that the guard was dozing, but in the silence of this rural area, the noise a rolling rock might make could easily arouse him.
Artemus watched from behind the bush and briefly wondered why his partner hesitated once he was atop the iron fence. He quickly figured it out though, as he saw Jim grasp the top rail and vertical bars to lower himself slowly and carefully. Something on the ground on the other side was causing the slowdown.
Maybe we would have been smarter to try to find Beryl’s room and take her hostage. Then again, we could have opened a couple of wrong doors and gotten ourselves in deep trouble. No, getting away from here as soon as possible was the best strategy right now. We’re unarmed, and could be facing ten or a dozen men if detected. He glanced back toward the darkened house. Only a pale glow showed in the second floor window that opened off the hallway lit by sconces.
That bomb is going to detonate very soon!Reaching the ground, Jim immediately dropped into a crouch and waited a few moments, listening. No sound came from the kiosk about ten feet from him. Still moving cautiously, he stepped out onto the grass that was growing between the rocky area and the road, and moved slowly toward the guardhouse.
The one thing that had not occurred to either of them was that the guard might change during the night. Hearing a sound, Artemus looked around and saw a man carrying a rifle emerge from around the side of the house, striding toward the lane that would lead him to the gate and the guardhouse.
Too late to warn Jim. Knowing calling out might alert others, Artemus moved around the bush, keeping himself out of view as the replacement guard neared. As soon as the man passed by him, he stepped out, grabbed the fellow’s arm to jerk him around, and slammed a fist into his chin. With a grunt, the man stumbled backwards, the rifle falling from his hands as he dropped to the ground, unconscious.
His motions were not silent, however. In stumbling, he had not only kicked a rock but then fell through a small dried bush which crackled. Artie ducked back behind his original bush as he heard a sound from the guardhouse.
“Who’s there?” the man who stepped out of the small building called, though he did not yell loudly. “That you, Jed?”
Maybe he’s been chastised before for waking the house needlessly. Jim had heard the commotion himself, and he froze for a moment, waiting to hear who responded to the sentry’s call. When no one did and the man walked toward the gate, holding a rifle and peering toward the house, Jim moved. Unwittingly his actions duplicated those of his partner, as he seized the guard’s arm to spin him, and hit him with a hard right. This man was of a burly build, however, and though staggered, he did not immediately go down, trying to bring his gun about.
Jim grabbed the barrel of the gun and jerked it. The rifle went off, firing harmlessly into the trees beyond. Harmless in that it did not hit human flesh. But not so harmless because the noise would arouse the house. A second blow to the middle and another to the chin brought the man down. Jim quickly picked up the rifle and searched the guard for the keys. Finding them, he dashed to the gate, calling to his partner. Only then did he see the man sprawled in the dirt alongside the wide path.
As soon as the gate was open, Artie dashed through. They locked it behind them, aware that other keys were undoubtedly available, but also realizing that having to unlock the portal again would slow down pursuit. The two men ran across the dirt road and plunged into the woods there. They had gone perhaps a hundred feet when the explosion rocked the house behind them. The shouts they heard revealed that the blast had added to the confusion caused by the gunshot, as anticipated.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Artie urged, as they had paused to look back upon hearing the sound.
“Wish to hell we knew where this leads,” Jim panted.
“Away from Beryl and her men,” Artie replied. “That’s all that counts right now.”
They kept running, conscious now of the different tone to the sounds back at the house. Someone was barking commands, apparently raising a posse to pursue them. However, when Artemus stumbled on a root and tumbled to the ground with a sharp groan of pain, they had to stop a moment as an anxious Jim helped him to his feet.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Artie insisted, steeling himself against the sharp pain in his chest.
Have I damaged that rib?“Artie, look!” Jim was facing back towards the house and road, and Artemus turned that way. The moon was filtering through the thick trees and brush to some extent, but it was very dark. Through that darkness, they could now see an orange glow.
“The explosion set the house afire,” Artie muttered. “I wondered if that would happen. Well, that should bring company. I assume there’s a volunteer fire department out here somewhere.”
“Might work to our advantage,” Jim concurred, “but we’d better keep moving.” From the yells and some other sounds, the posse was obviously taking up the pursuit. “You sure you’re okay?” In the faint light, Jim saw the shiny perspiration on his partner’s face and wondered if his complexion was not more pallid.
“I’m fine,” Artemus assured him. “Come on.”
No more falls, Artemus. You might do it for good and all. He knew he would have a difficult time convincing Jim to leave him if indeed he became incapacitated.
Clutching their rifles, the pair continued onward, trying to keep to a steady course that would take them directly through the woods, but with the darkness and the need for haste, Jim was unsure if that was what they were doing. He remembered Artemus’s remark about coming to a sheer cliff or an unfordable waterway.
We don’t know this area at all. Could be a creek ahead. But I doubt there’s any cliffs… though the ocean is somewhere out there… I hope not! These woods were extremely thick, apparently untended and unused. In this portion, no evidence revealed that any trees had been downed for firewood or lumber or anything else.
At least their pursuers were running into the same difficulties as they were, dealing with the thick brush and lack of light. The two agents could hear shouts and occasional angry curses or questions. Someone appeared to be giving orders, but it also sounded as though those orders were being disputed.
That’s good, Artie decided.
Might slow them down. A couple of times he glanced backwards and saw that the glow from the burning house was brighter and brighter. The whole place was going, it seemed. An unintended consequence, but Artemus did not feel any remorse. With her residence in flames, Beryl Kingston might have other things to think of.
Odd that she sent her men after us instead of keeping them to fight the fire. Then again, Beryl would be a difficult woman to predict.
Both men were panting heavily when they came upon a small stream, with a bed about four feet wide although the width of the water flowing through it was probably only a foot or so. Jim estimated they had gone at least a half a mile, but then again, distance was difficult to judge when traveling through the thick copse. They took turns getting water, and while Artie was kneeling down to drink, Jim checked his rifle.
“Looks like I have about six shells in here,” he commented.
Artemus ejected the bullets from his. “Four. Great. Would have thought they’d keep their rifles fully loaded.” He looked around as he automatically reloaded. “Jim, I’m getting the impression these woods are a lot deeper than we anticipated.”
“Yeah. I know. How about we follow the stream awhile? But first…” He stepped across the water, up onto the opposite bank, and crashed through some brush there, creating some very visible broken twigs and branches, as well as some footprints in the soft soil. Then he carefully arced back, stepping on piles of leaves and needles, or a fallen branch, so as not to leave any returning signs. When he got back to the other side, the two men wordlessly headed upstream, north, toward the town of Daly City.
“Richmond must have been difficult to convince,” Jim said as they slowed to skirt around some brambles growing alongside the stream.
“He’ll be here,” Artie spoke firmly. “Might be taking awhile to get the army out of the Presidio. At least the colonel still has his rank.”
“But the Presidio has a general,” Jim reminded him.
“When did that ever stop James Richmond?” Artie cracked.
“Wait a minute,” Jim said, halting his steps and reaching out to grab his partner’s arm to stop his movements. “Listen.”
They could hear a low rumbling sound. Horses. “The army or the fire department?” Artemus wondered softly.
“Artie,” Jim said briskly, “let’s head back toward the house. Circle around.”
For a moment Artemus was astounded by the suggestion. Then he realized what his partner meant. Whether the sound they heard was the approach of the cavalry from the Presidio in San Francisco, with Richmond at their head, or the local volunteer fire department, they would at least have allies. “Let’s go.”
Although they slowed their pace compared to what they had used escaping from the house, the going was no less difficult, requiring pushing through brush and thickets, sometimes with thorns grabbing at their clothing and skin. The only relief was the awareness that the sounds of the shouting pursuers were farther away. With any luck, that group of men had crossed the stream and were still going.
When they finally neared the road, they slowed even more, remaining hidden from the view of anyone at or near the blazing building. The trees and other growth around the house and yard made it difficult to see just what was going on inside the fencing. Lights were illuminated in neighboring homes, with the residents aroused probably first by the explosion, and then the fire and commotion. A few people, mostly men in dressing gowns, were out on the road peering through the fence.
“I think it was the fire brigade,” Artie muttered. “Doesn’t look like they are going to be able to do much to save the house.” The flames were shooting skyward and in all directions. Every time a wall or a beam fell, sparks emanated like fireworks.
“It doesn’t matter. I have the money.”
Both men whirled to see the woman standing a half dozen feet behind them. She was attired in a velvet robe over her nightclothes. The robe appeared black in the moonlight. And she held a double-barreled shotgun pointed right at them.
“I thought you might be coming back,” Beryl Kingston said pleasantly. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders like a glowing silken river. “Drop your weapons.”
“Beryl,” Jim said quietly, “it’s all over. You should surrender. It’ll go easier on you.”
“Surrender! Why? I haven’t lost anything except that stupid house. I told you, I have the money. Thousands and thousands of dollars and everything else I need. The three of us can set up headquarters elsewhere, just as I was explaining to you earlier, James.”
“The three of us?” Artemus echoed. “You’re including me in your plans now?”
“Why certainly. You proved your brilliance and courage tonight. I had heard of both of you, and now I’m suitably impressed. We can set up a worldwide organization.”
“If we’re going to be working together,” Jim spoke pleasantly, “why do you want to disarm us?”
She sighed in exasperation. “Because I don't know if I can trust you yet. But that will be taken care of. That little drug I used on you was not the only pharmaceutical knowledge I possess. I will administer a poison to each of you, a poison that must be treated at regular intervals, or you’ll die. If either of you betray me, the other will not get the antidote. Simple, don’t you see? I know about your close friendship, and Mr. Gordon’s derring-do tonight proved that as well.”
Artemus exchanged a glance with his partner, remembering their discussion earlier about her sanity. Clearly she was mad. She was standing in a dark woods in the middle of the night, clad in her nightclothes while her home was burning to the ground, but confidently planning her future criminal life with two men she could not trust unless she threatened them. The expression on her face was one of complete confidence.
“That might work,” Jim said slowly. He wondered about a faint sound he was now hearing, but a louder noise was that of the Beryl’s men, who had apparently realized they had been tricked and were now circling back. They might well arrive to assist Beryl, which presented a quandary. Did they stall for time to allow the Army a chance to arrive—if that was the sound he was hearing—or work quickly to overcome Beryl before her men got there.
“What next?” Artemus asked.
“Put your weapons on the ground,” Beryl stated. “This scattergun has a very wide range. I can get both of you easily.” She lifted her weapon slightly to emphasize her point.
They had no choice at the moment. Both men leaned over to place their rifles at their feet. Beryl was pleased.
“Now, when the fire burns out and people have dispersed, we’ll begin our journey. We’ll go back into the city, charter a boat and… what’s the matter, Artemus?”
Artie had clutched at his midriff, leaning forward slightly, gasping in pain. “My chest—I think the broken rib has pierced my lung…” He was speaking in a very hoarse tone, and as though unable to take a full breath.
Jim grabbed his arm. “Artie!”
I hope to hell this is an act, pal! “Here, lay down. Come on.” He eased Artemus to the ground, quite conscious that Artemus positioned himself parallel to one of the rifles laying there, his arm partially covering the weapon. Jim experienced a mild sense of relief, yet wondered just what Artie had in mind. That shotgun was dangerous.
Beryl came a little closer, looking down at him. “What’s wrong with him?”
“That beating your men gave him when they thought he was Gaskin broke a rib. The doctor warned that undue exertion might cause a problem. Now it seems it has. He’ll die if we don’t get him some help!”
Beryl’s lovely face was thoughtful. “Well, we don’t really need him…”
“You need him if you expect my cooperation,” Jim shot back. She came a couple steps nearer, very close to Artie’s boots.
“Is that true, James?” she asked, her gaze fastened on his face. “I thought you cared for me.”
“Regardless,” he returned, keeping her attention on him, “you can’t expect me to care for you if you let my friend die.”
“Jim, help me,” Artie moaned.
Jim leaned over his friend, and at the corner of his eye, saw Beryl take another step. He jerked back as Artemus whipped his legs around, catching Beryl Kingston at the ankles. She shrieked, tried to regain her balance, the shotgun flailing wildly. Jim West grabbed at the gun, caught the barrel, and yanked it from her grip.
Artie leaped to his feet to grab Beryl around the waist from behind, pinning her arms as she screamed curses and struggled. Jim was able to kick the rifles out of the way, then he pointed the shotgun. “Remember, Beryl, this scattergun does a lot of damage.”
“You won’t shoot me with Artemus right behind me!” she challenged.
Artie released her and stepped to one side. “Fire away, ,James.”
Beryl’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t…!”
“Misbehave and find out. Come on, out to the road. I think we have company coming.”
“Now
that has to be the colonel,” Artie stated, pushing through the brush.
Beryl reluctantly followed, Jim right behind her with the shotgun. The flames from the house were still towering, and between the fire and the moon, visibility was high. The approaching Army men saw them, and Colonel Richmond, on the lead horse alongside Sergeant Lloyd Morris of the San Francisco Police Department, called a halt.
“Colonel,” Artemus hurried up to him, “there’s a bunch of men coming through the woods. Armed men. Hers.”
Richmond turned to the officer behind him. “I suggest you prepare to receive prisoners, Lieutenant Case.” As Case began to give orders to his men, Richmond dismounted. “Mr. Gordon. I thought you said you were checking in at the hospital.”
“I did, sir.” Artemus held himself erect, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in chest and midriff, exacerbated not only by the run through the woods but his recent close encounter with the beautiful woman who rammed a couple of sharp elbows into him while struggling. “The doctor looked me over and changed the wrappings.”
“And then you took it upon yourself to be a one man posse to rescue James. Did you think I would forbid you?”
“Well…”
“You’re right, I would have. But I could have also told you that virtually every deposit in the Kingston bank account coincides with a murder over the last several years. That information persuaded the judge to issue a search warrant for these premises, presuming some sort of records could have been found.” Richmond looked toward the blazing structure. “Not much chance now.”
Jim had kept his eyes on Beryl and now he spoke up. “Mrs. Kingston told us she saved her money from the fire, colonel. I suspect she saved more than that. Ask the soldiers to search this area… as soon as they have Beryl’s boys in hand.”
