Post by California gal on Jul 28, 2010 8:04:41 GMT -8
THE NIGHT OF PARADISE LOST
Do not stand in a place of danger trusting in miracles.
— Arabian Proverb
Do not stand in a place of danger trusting in miracles.
— Arabian Proverb
“I think this could be one of those times, Mr. West, when discretion may well be the better part of valor.”
Artemus Gordon spoke in a low, tense voice, holding his coffee cup near his mouth as he pretended to gaze idly toward the nearby window with its view of the dusty street and the buildings on the other side of it.
On the opposite side of the table, Jim West carefully cut his steak, head down. “I fully concur, Mr. Gordon. I suggest we finish our meal, check out of the hotel… and regroup somewhere nice and quiet.” They were very aware of the two men half a dozen feet away at the bar, not to mention the several armed men they had seen out on the street while walking from their hotel.
“May I freshen your coffee?”
Both men looked up at the waitress holding the large enamel coffeepot with folded cloths protecting her hands. She was a pretty woman in her mid twenties, with long brown hair that flowed over her shoulders, contrary to the prevailing style whereby women bound their hair in knots, braids, or other elaborate coifs. Although her lips were smiling, her brown eyes were anxious.
“Thank you,” Artie said, lowering his cup to the saucer, glancing at Jim and then focusing on the woman. They had talked to her previously during their three days in Desert Springs, New Mexico Territory. Her name was Mira, and she had served them several times in this restaurant.
As she leaned forward, she whispered. “Don’t wait to check out. Leave immediately. He is coming for you.”
Jim’s first impulse was to ask her, “Who’s coming?” but he quelled it. Who she meant was obvious. Perhaps the question really was why she was offering this warning. She had been friendly—very friendly, even a little flirtatious—during previous encounters. Her gaze now was not the least coquettish, and quite serious. Townspeople had been avoiding the agents as much as possible; why had not Mira behaved the same way?
“Good idea,” Jim said then, getting to his feet and reaching into his coat for his billfold.
She reached out with a free hand after resting the pot on the table, a gesture to stop his actions. “Just go. Quickly. You…”
Her words halted as the front door of the restaurant opened. Four men entered, three of them carrying rifles that were immediately pointed toward the table where the two agents were dining. The two from the bar stepped forward simultaneously with the entry of the other gun-bearing men, pulling their pistols. Artie rose slowly now. He knew better than to try for the weapon at his hip with five guns pointed their way. Instead he touched Mira’s arm and jerked his head. She immediately moved away, taking the coffee pot with her. The several other patrons in the restaurant were also drifting toward the back wall, apprehension on their faces as the armed men formed a circle around Jim and Artie’s table.
“Mr. West, Mr. Gordon. Good morning.”
The speaker was the nattily clad man in the lead. They had met him on their first day in Desert Springs. His name was Marius Hammer, and both agents had agreed that their first impression of him was that he was one of the most dangerous and evil men they had ever encountered. Artemus freely stated that Hammer’s cold silver eyes caused a chill to traverse his spine.
Hammer was the man they had been sent to New Mexico to investigate, after the department received a letter from a former Secret Service agent who had left the service to marry and become sheriff here in Desert Springs. Russell Kelsey had been a respected agent, so the information he imparted had been taken seriously. In the missive he promised more details and proof of his allegations as soon as the department sent someone to look into the matter.
When West and Gordon arrived in Desert Springs, however, they were told that Sheriff Kelsey had gone missing. His frightened and grieving wife had no information for them, other than to relate that her husband was the seventh man to vanish mysteriously in the last two years—and that she was certain Marius Hammer was behind it. She had been aware that Russ wrote to Washington, but he had been careful to not involve her, not giving her any information whatsoever.
They had searched Kelsey’s office without finding anything that would tell them how to proceed to gain the proof that the sheriff had promised. The office evinced signs of having already been thoroughly searched. The information the sheriff had provided to get them here was that Marius Hammer was not only committing extortion, but had a scheme in the works that could affect the entire nation, possibly the world. Whatever those plans were, Russ Kelsey had taken them seriously enough to warn Washington, but had not felt it would be safe to put them in his communication.
During their two days here the agents had talked—or tried to talk—to numerous residents in town and on the ranches and farms in the area, but gained precious little in response, other than the obvious fact that the people were terrified. They themselves had noticed the armed men who were a constant presence both on the streets of Desert Springs and in the outlying areas. While visiting at least two ranches, a man with a rifle lingered nearby, watching. No one would speak of the men who had vanished, not even the families of those men. The only thing that could be gleaned was that all those missing men, like the sheriff, had opposed Hammer in some manner.
“Good morning, Mr. Hammer,” Jim replied pleasantly. “I’d ask you to join us, but I’m afraid we’ve finished our meal and are about to depart.”
“Nonsense,” Hammer replied in an equally agreeable tone, “we have business to take care of. In fact, rather than breakfast, why don’t you join me outside?”
“Oh, thank you for the invitation,” Artemus said with exaggerated politeness, “but I’m afraid we really must be going. We are expected.” He put a slightly harder emphasis on the last words.
“Nonsense,” Hammer said again, unfazed. His tone was soft, but his eyes were silvery granite stones. He was a man in his fifties, of medium height and slim build with an angular, almost triangular face, his chin pointed and somewhat jutting. His hair was snow white, impeccably cut and combed, along with always-perfect attire. A ruby stickpin gleamed in his cravat. “Whoever is expecting you won’t mind waiting… awhile. Do come along. I have something very interesting to show you.”
With the rifle-toting men moving closer, hefting their weapons to their shoulders, barrels aimed at their heads, the two agents had no choice. Once they were out onto the porch of the restaurant, their own weapons were removed and they were herded toward a waiting wagon, ordered into the bed of it, along with two of the guards. Hammer did not deign to ride in such humble transportation, but went to a gold-trimmed black carriage drawn by two gleaming black horses with a driver on the front bench.
In such close quarters, Jim realized, they were going to have difficulty accessing any of the other weapons they possessed. He could not get to the explosive in his boot heels and Artie would not be able to use the gas pellets and explosives disguised as his jacket buttons. The derringer inside his sleeve would not be of much use against such odds, nor would the knife in his jacket.
Artemus watched the scenery as the wagon rumbled out of town. Hammer’s carriage was in the lead, thereby avoiding the dust created by the wagon, but causing some for the wagon’s passengers and the guards. The terrain in this part of New Mexico, like a good portion of the state, was rough and mostly arid. “Desert Springs” gained its name from the several very fine water sources in the region, including a creek that flowed for most of the year, occasionally boosted by ferocious thunderstorms. The local population survived by dint of those springs and the creek, and was prosperous. Or had been.
A rather high mountain, probably at least a couple thousand feet in elevation, dominated the area, and it appeared that was where they were heading. Why, Artie wondered. He knew Hammer’s main abode, a large home, was in the other direction from town. Is this where the other missing men ended up? In some ravine, perhaps covered with rocks? He glanced at his partner, aware that Jim was experiencing the same tension he was. They were in a bad situation here, outnumbered and virtually unarmed. We should have gotten the hell out of Desert Springs after the first day. Retreat, however, was not usually in their vocabulary.
They had encountered Marius Hammer that day of their arrival. Indeed, he had come to the small hotel, directly to their rooms just a couple of hours after they registered. As Jim had commented later, that was certainly a sign of Hammer’s self-confidence. He did not appear to harbor any fear of the federal government interfering in his plans, whatever they were. On that occasion, just one man had accompanied Hammer, a stocky black-bearded fellow with small and dangerous eyes. That man was not among this group.
Does Hammer really believe he could kill us then not face retribution from the federal government? My comment that “we are expected” was not far off the mark. Colonel Richmond will be awaiting word from us, and when it doesn’t come, more men, perhaps troops, will be dispatched to this area.
He’s so confident, Jim mused, he’s not even tying us up. He looked up toward the mountain looming ever closer and unknowingly had the same thoughts as his partner. The bodies of those missing men could be hidden rather easily in this terrain, full of gullies and boulders, leading right up to the base of the mountain. The early Spanish inhabitants called this mountain La Guarida del Diablo, he had been told: “the devil’s lair.” Legend said that the mountain itself swallowed anyone who ventured onto it.
Jim glanced around. The two men riding in the wagon with them and the three on horseback were alert, still with their rifles pointed toward the prisoners. If either one of us makes a move, they start shooting. That’s obvious, even without a warning from Hammer. But we have to do something. Maybe when we reach our destination… wherever that is!
The two vehicles rumbled on, eventually cutting off the main road to head directly toward the mountain on a narrow, very rutted path. One pothole was bad enough that the jolted wagon hurled Artemus toward the nearest guard. That man rammed the butt of his rifle into Artie’s shoulder, obviously believing Gordon was attempting to make a break of some kind. Jim reacted angrily, and would have thrown himself rashly toward the guard, but Artemus grabbed his arm.
“I’m all right, Jim.” That was not quite true, as his shoulder throbbed. He knew he would have a dandy bruise—if he lived long enough for one to develop. He had no doubt, however, that if Jim grappled with the guard, the others would quickly join in… and they might not live to reach wherever they were going.
Jim sat back, taking a deep breath. Stupid bastard! He was jolted by the same hole in the road. Why didn’t he realize that was what happened to Artie? Jim knew the answer to that. Some men enjoyed inflicting pain, and the scarred faced man who had acted looked to be one of those, always watching for an opportunity to abuse the helpless.
Finally, near the base of the mountain where the boulders were massive and the vehicles had to wend the way slowly and carefully among them, they stopped in a clearing just below a straight, shear rock wall. The two agents were ordered to the ground, and as they did so, four more men appeared from beyond the boulders, also bearing rifles. Artie glanced at his partner and saw the same grim thoughts in Jim’s eyes. Their chances of escape were greatly diminished with the odds increasing against them.
Marius Hammer dismounted from his carriage and strolled toward them. “I trust the journey was not too arduous,” he said, eyes glittering.
“Not if you’re planning to provide a picnic lunch now,” Artie replied blithely.
“Not a picnic lunch,” Hammer assured him, “but a memorable experience. Gentlemen?”
Hammer led the way, and appeared to be walking toward a blank wall. Was that it—a firing squad against the rock face of the mountain? Artemus knew that he and his partner would attempt something. They would not complacently stand still to be shot down. Whether or not they could be successful was beyond the point. James West and Artemus Gordon would go down fighting. That was how they lived, that was how they would die.
Both men were astonished when Hammer veered to one side, approaching what appeared to be a mere shadow caused by a fold in the wall, where he vanished. They quickly realized Hammer had entered a narrow, almost hidden, opening. When the agents halted their steps in their amazement, rifles prodded them in the back, so they followed Hammer in through the slim aperture.
Lit torches were in sconces on either side of a rough tunnel. Several of the men grabbed other torches that were on the floor and ignited them from the burning ones. The pungent scent of tar and smoke filled the air as they moved forward. The ground was rough and they soon found they had to pay attention lest they trip over a jutting rock.
Only when they entered into a large cavern did the two men exchange glances. Both saw the yawning opening in the middle of the floor. Jim’s stomach tightened. This was, obviously, where the missing men ended up. If no one else knew about the cave—or did not dare enter if they did know—the site was a perfect place to dispose of bodies.
Rather than a firing squad against the mountain wall, we’re going to be stood next to the abyss, Artie decided. Our bodies will fall in—and be disposed of forever. Again he looked at his friend. They needed to coordinate their efforts when they made a break. Futile as it might turn out to be, the attempt was necessary.
Artie was more than a little startled when Jim was grabbed by the arms and pushed around to the far side of the hole. That did not make a lot of sense. It would be easier to have them together… Oh God! He’s going to throw us in, alive, one at a time! A freezing chill coursed through Artie’s veins. Being some dozen feet apart, with the gaping abyss between, the odds increased considerably. Still… they would fight. Across the way Jim lifted his gaze and Artemus met it.
“Now, gentlemen, I think you are gaining an idea into my plans,” Hammer purred. He was standing several feet back from the blackness of the hole, at a spot in between the two captives.
“Not hard to figure out,” Jim replied icily. “You’re a fool, Hammer. Kill us and the government will be here in short order.”
Hammer shrugged. “And they will be told that Mr. West and Mr. Gordon left Desert Springs, saying they were returning to their headquarters. Dozens of reputable citizens will tell them the same thing. You will vanish, Mr. West. Simply vanish from the earth.” He nodded.
It happened suddenly. The two men nearest each agent grabbed their arms. Both struggled mightily, and in Jim’s case, a third man joined in. While grappling with his captors, Artemus saw this, realizing that in his case, the third was not involved. He also became aware that as he was being pulled back from the abyss, Jim was being pushed toward it. What…?
He had no time to speculate. Propelled back to the wall and pinned there by two strong men, his arms twisted behind him, Artemus Gordon watched in horror as Jim was forced toward the lip of the hole. The men holding him obviously had experience in similar situations. Jim’s arms were also twisted behind his back, increasing his difficulty to fight back as he dealt with the pain. He could not maneuver his feet to attempt to trip any of his captors as he was forced forward.
At the last instant, Jim looked up and his gaze met that of his horrified partner. Then… Artemus Gordon’s horrified “Noooo!” echoed in the cavern as Jim West vanished into the darkness. The silence prevailed for long seconds. Artie was aware that without the support of the two men still grasping his arms, he would have slipped to the ground, his legs momentarily losing strength.
“Well, that’s done,” Marius Hammer said in his usual genial tone. “Mr. Gordon…”
The voice and the words brought Artemus back from the void his mind had slipped into. “You… you…” he could not think of the words that would express his rage and hatred adequately. Finally he spoke quietly. “I’m next, I suppose.”
“Oh, no, not at all. You’re not going to die, Mr. Gordon. Not yet. I need you.”
Artie’s brow creased. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s quite simple. Miguelito told me that you have a very fine brain, and he is of the opinion that away from Mr. West’s influence, you might even use it in a fruitful manner.”
“Miguel… you know Loveless?” For a moment, astonishment wiped everything else from his mind.
“Certainly. We have been acquaintances—I daresay friends—for many years. We think alike in numerous ways. Miguelito has his sights set on regaining his inheritance in California. My vision is focused slightly higher.”
“And you… you expect me to… help you? After you just murdered my best friend?” The fury returned, redoubled.
Hammer waved dismissively. “Before long, you will be wondering why you ever associated with a man like James West. Come now. We can be at my home by midday. I have an excellent cook. I’m told you are a connoisseur of good food and drink. I serve the best.”
W*W*W*W*W
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair.
— Cato (act IV, sc. 3), Joseph Addison (1672-1719), English essayist, poet, and statesman
I will indulge my sorrows, and give way
To all the pangs and fury of despair.
— Cato (act IV, sc. 3), Joseph Addison (1672-1719), English essayist, poet, and statesman
He opened his eyes and stared. For a long moment, he could not think, could not imagine where he was, what he was seeing. He finally realized he was looking at the rough slats on the bottom of a mattress above him. A slight sound, an indrawn breath, caused him to turn his head slightly… and he stared again at the face he saw.
“Russ!”
The man seated alongside where he was laying was recognizable despite a beard and mustache on his formerly clean-shaven face. He smiled slightly. “Hi, Jim. Didn’t expect to meet you this way, at this place.”
Jim West lifted himself up on his elbows, and looked around. “This place” appeared to be a bunkhouse of some kind, a long room lined with double-deckers of beds. He himself was on a lower bunk.
“I don’t understand. How… how did you…?” Sudden realization hit. “Am I dead?” His surroundings did not look anything like his vision of heaven… or hell.
Russ Kelsey laughed, the smile he had been famous for in the service lighting up his countenance. He was close to forty now, but being blond and fair skinned, appeared much younger. In the military, he had twice successfully portrayed a youthful man to gain information from the enemy. The blue eyes sobered then.
“No, we’re not dead, Jim, neither of us. But for all intents and purposes, we might as well be.”
Jim managed to gain a sitting position, aware of the weakness in his muscles and the overall sense of fatigue. He realized he was now wearing different clothes, denim trousers and a faded cotton shirt, his feet bare for the moment. “How did I get here? Last I remember was hitting the water…” …the icy cold water that had swallowed him into the deeper darkness. The shock of it on his body had almost done him in, but he had recovered to stroke back to the surface. The only light had come from above the opening a hundred feet above him, and as he paddled around, trying to regain breath enough to yell, even that vanished. All he could do was swim, and before long—within about twenty feet, he thought—his hands touched something solid. He didn’t remember much after that.
“Mother Angel has spies in town,” Russ said then. “When they become aware that someone has been taken toward El Diablo, they send word—somehow. I’m not sure how that works, but the information reaches the inhabitants of the valley, who rush to the pool to try to rescue whoever has been thrown in. Of the seven—now eight—two have died. One of those was Charles Barber, our judge, who was in his seventies. Chances are the shock of the water killed him. The very first one, Fred Frantz, the gunsmith, happened before Mother had her system set up.”
“Wait, wait! Mother Angel? The valley? What…?”
Russ sighed. “Jim, it’s pretty unbelievable. There is…”
His words halted as Jim suddenly grasped his wrist, a horrified expression on his face. “Russ… Artie!”
“What?”
“Where’s Artie?” Jim looked around the room frantically. Every other bed was empty.
“Jim, you were the only one they brought in.”
Jim stared at him, shaking his head slowly. “No! No! Artie was there. We were both brought to the… the cave. They must have thrown him in… after me.” Dear God! Why didn’t I try to help him? He had a vague recollection of hearing a voice, or voices, as he swam. Artie, calling for his help? No… that hadn’t been Artie’s voice. But…
“I’m sorry, Jim. Artemus is not here.”
With a groan, Jim dropped back on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes. For a long, long moment, he lay still. Russ was silent. Then, with a shuddering, deep breath, Jim sat up again. “How do I get back to Desert Springs from… wherever we are?” His tone was icy.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Jim. You can’t. We can’t. We are now members of Mother Angel’s flock. I have no idea how to get out of the valley.”
Now Jim swung his bare feet over the side of the bed. He saw a pair of worn boots on the floor, picked one up and began to tug it on. “Talk sense, Russ.” The boot fit reasonably well, so he grabbed the other one.
“I don't know if I can. Here’s the story. You’ll see some of it once we go outside. We’re in a valley that is apparently deep within La Diablo. I remember hearing Indian legends about it, but I thought that was all it was, a legend. Seems Mother Angel and a few of her followers discovered it some years back and decided to make it their personal Eden. Over the years, some of them have left the valley periodically to bring back recruits to her colony. I think there were originally around twenty of them, maybe a dozen men, the rest women, before she started rescuing men from the pool. When Hammer found the cave and began to throw his enemies into the pit, they started adding the rescued men to their flock. Close to forty all told now, with other recent recruits that she brought in.”
“And… you are staying willingly?”
“Not willingly, Jim. There’s just no way to get out. I mean, there is a way, but only a few know where it is. Even some of the newer willing recruits told me they were brought in blindfolded. They have no idea how to get out, even if they wanted to. But they are here voluntarily.”
“The spy in town… Mira… at the restaurant?”
“She’s one of the highly trusted members. They have some pretty good cover stories as to why they come and go. Mira told me a while back she had elderly parents living some fifty miles from here and she periodically had to go check on them. That was how she explained why she’s gone from town for a few weeks. I’m not entirely certain about the others. I know I saw a few of them in town from time to time. I guess I thought they were just farmers, coming in for supplies or for a touch of civilization from time to time.” He paused. “Jim, did you talk to Louisa?”
Jim nodded. “She’s mourning, but she’s fine. She’s a strong woman, Russ.” He and Artemus had attended the wedding some years ago and admired Louisa Kelsey for her willingness to leave her Washington, D.C. home to travel west with her new husband.
Jim then asked Russ about Marius Hammer, the man they had come to investigate. “We could see how terrorized the population is. No one wanted to talk to us… except Mira.”
Russ related how Hammer had arrived in Desert Springs a few years ago, bought the old Hernandez house and grounds, and at first seemed to be a good citizen. “Then these gun-toting toughs started to arrive, one or two at a time. I asked Hammer, because he appeared to be hiring them. He told me that he was organizing an expedition into some unexplored areas of Brazil and these men were to accompany him for protection.”
The sheriff shook his head, bemused. “It sounded odd, but I had no reason to disbelieve him. When he had brought in about twenty men, things changed. Hammer started offering ‘insurance’ to folks in the area. His prices were pretty high, and at first few bought in. Then things started to happen. A spring poisoned out on the range; a fire in a storeroom in town. Soon became clear that those things weren’t happening to anyone who bought the insurance. I had no proof, however, that Hammer was involved.”
“Those types of crimes are often hard to prove,” Jim said softly.
Russ sighed. “That’s for certain! In any case, I tried to do what I could, but at that time I was alone, no deputy. And I think my pride got in the way. I should have asked for help a lot sooner than I did. But it wasn’t a federal case either. More gunmen arrived and things just became worse. Then I started hearing stories about what Hammer was doing in his house, his laboratory. Talk about conquering the world, killing lots of people in the process. Rumors said he was making some kind of a poison to sell to men who wanted to overturn their governments.
“About this time, our mail started being watched. Everything outgoing has to go through Hammer. Of course, that’s against federal law. But I couldn’t write for help! Finally I got that letter out by slipping it to the driver of the stage that comes through about twice a month. I couldn’t give a lot of details, just in case Hammer got hold of it anyway.”
Jim stood up, grabbing the vertical support of the beds for a moment to steady his surprisingly shaky legs. He had not been in that frigid water long, but obviously it had taken a toll. “I’m getting out of here,” he stated firmly. “One way or another. I have a man to kill.”
W*W*W*W*W
Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.
Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.
—Joseph Jourbert (1754-1824), French moralist and essayist
Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.
Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.
—Joseph Jourbert (1754-1824), French moralist and essayist
Artemus Gordon looked around his room. As luxurious accommodations as he had ever had, easily matching the extraordinarily fine hotel where he and Jim had once stayed in Paris. The outside of the house was rather ordinary, if large, but the interior was fabulous, the floors coated with thick imported rugs, pictures and hangings on the walls.
Seems Hammer and Loveless have more than just megalomania in common: a taste for opulence.
He walked to the window and looked down on a well-tended, lush flower garden. A high stone fence surrounded the house and grounds. Guards patrolled that fence, were stationed at the front gate and, Artie was sure, at any other existing gates. No one was allowed to enter, or leave, without permission.
Briefly he closed his eyes against a sudden surge of pain the memory of Jim West disappearing into that abyss flew through his mind. How could it be? How could it have happened? They were rarely off guard, but Hammer’s abrupt entrance into the restaurant and even more sudden actions taking them to the cave had definitely surprised them. Neither of us expected it. Not so quickly. Not so openly.
They had briefly discussed the idea that they might have trouble leaving Desert Springs after their presence and official status became known. But that kind of trouble they would have been prepared for. Being abruptly taken prisoner by armed men had not been anticipated. Not in the middle of town, in a busy restaurant. They had underestimated Hammer’s level of control of the townspeople. Hammer did not operate like other men. That went without saying. He seemed to have no fear of government retribution.
He mentioned at lunch that he expected me to intervene if the government does investigate further. He may be more insane than Loveless. At least Miguelito Loveless would know better. But Hammer has this whole area under his thumb. Is that how he’ll try to coerce me to fend off any further government probes, holding the safety of the citizens over my head?
Artie frowned as he walked back to the huge, soft bed and sat down on the edge. Hammer said that his—and Jim’s—possessions would be brought from the hotel, including their horses, to make it appear as if they had indeed left the area. If that didn’t work and other agents appeared, Hammer appeared confident that Artemus Gordon would make adequate explanations—whatever those might be. Perhaps he would simply be held prisoner here while the frightened townspeople parroted whatever story Hammer gave them to offer to future investigators.
Artie ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, looking back toward the room’s door. It was locked. He had tried that earlier. Not only that, Hammer had taken his jacket and had his men thoroughly search the prisoner’s clothes and person. They had found nothing because his only hidden weapons had been the buttons at this time. I don’t even have a picklock!
Again he went to the window, this time leaning his forehead against the cool glass, not really seeing anything outside. Jim was dead, dying a horrible, terrifying death. They had faced death so many times. Had escaped just as many times. Now… again the pain washed through his soul. At that instant in the cave, he had wished for death himself. Not now, however. Not before he gained vengeance.
No matter what I have to do. If it’s necessary to appear to go completely over to his side to gain his confidence and trust, that’s what it’ll be. Anything to give me the chance. Someday, somehow, I’ll kill Marius Hammer… even if I hang for it.
W*W*W*W*W
A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
— Paradise Lost (bk. III, l. 495), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet & Author
A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
— Paradise Lost (bk. III, l. 495), John Milton (1608-1674), English poet & Author
Jim put his fork down on the plate, the chunk of beef he had speared still impaled. Everyone else at the long table was eating with great gusto, and indeed, the stew had a pleasing aroma. When he tried to chew a bite, however, it seemed to turn to dust in his mouth. Picking up the cup of coffee, he let his gaze lift to the woman at the far end of the table.
Mother Angel. She did not resemble his vision of an angel. Perhaps once, in her youth, she had been lovely. The bone structure was there. But now, in a little beyond middle age, with many pounds padding those bones, she was a heavy set woman with gray streaked dark hair, falling to her shoulders and beyond, as did the locks of every woman present. Those women ranged in age from early twenties to close to Mother Angel’s years.
He had been introduced to all the women, as well as the men, who like the females covered a broad age range, with the youngest probably twenty or so and the oldest a white-bearded man with longish hair that reached almost to his shoulders. His name was Sam, as Jim recalled. Jim did not remember many names other than the four that Russ had pointed out earlier as the “missing men” from Desert Springs. All of the men present were not only unshaven but also appeared to not have had a haircut in a long while.
Those four from Desert Springs were a doctor, the blacksmith, a merchant, and a young man whom Russ said had just been appointed as his deputy at the time he disappeared several months ago. The merchant had been taken from town a little less than two years ago, the second victim in Marius Hammer’s plan to silence any strong voices of dissent, and thus quell future problems with fear and intimidation. He had also been the first rescued by the people of the valley.
That means that Mother Angel has kept him here for all that time. That did not bode too well for a successful escape. Jim knew, nevertheless, that he would try. The exit was somewhere. With his experience, might be he would be the only one who could locate it. He just needed a chance.
“James!” the woman known as Mother Angel called, “you are not eating. Are you well?”
“I guess I’m tired,” he replied. “If I may be excused…” He started to push back his chair.
“Of course. Rufus, you appear to have finished your meal. Please walk James to the quarters and make sure he is comfortable.”
“I can find my own way…” Jim began.
She smiled. “Nonsense. You went through a terrible ordeal today. I want to make certain you are well. Rufus.”
Russ Kelsey got to his feet alongside the thin balding man who rose reluctantly. “I’ll go with Jim.”
Mother Angel’s smile continued to match her name. “That’s kind of you, Russell, but I’m sure Rufus can take care of him.”
“I’ll go with them both.”
The three men departed the large structure that Russ had told Jim was the main building of the compound, containing not only the dining area and kitchen but also Mother Angel’s living quarters—and the women’s bedroom. “I suspect she is not entirely sure of the morals of all her children,” Russ had grinned.
Jim had discovered earlier that the valley was relatively small, probably about a half mile across and not much more than a mile long. It appeared that the underground pool in the cave was fed by the swiftly flowing stream that emerged in a broad waterfall from the shear cliff at one end, apparently having some springs as its source. This stream bisected the valley and disappeared into the rock wall near where entrance to the pool’s cave was located, providing water for the inhabitants as well as to irrigate the gardens tended for their own consumption and for sale. Russ related that some of the produce was sold in Desert Springs, with the residents of that town being told that they came from a farm some miles away. “I know I never questioned it,” the sheriff said ruefully.
Russ speculated that at least one exit that led out of the valley was so cleverly disguised as to be almost invisible from the interior of the valley, and undoubtedly from outside as well. He knew that a small wagon passed in and out of the valley, so a larger tunnel must exist, but thus far he had no idea where that one was either: the walls appeared to be sheer and solid all around. When Jim asked, Russ said he did not know how Mother Angel had found the valley in the first place. “I tried to ask her once, but she changed the subject.”
The men’s bunkhouse was about fifty yards from the main house, alongside the big barn and corral where a number of horses and a couple of milking cows were kept. When they entered, Jim went directly to his bunk, pulled off his boots and lay down, as though exhausted. Russ sat down on the bunk across, while Rufus went further down the aisle. After a moment, he came back.
“Look, Russell, you think you’ll be all right here with him? I mean, there’s apple pie for dessert…”
Kelsey smiled and waved. “Go ahead, Rufus. Tell Mother we’re both laying down, and that Jim fell asleep right away.”
As soon as Rufus departed, Jim sat up. “Russ, I’ve got to get out of here.”
“So do we all. I want to get back to Louisa… and my job. I swear, Jim, every day since I’ve been here I’ve tried to find that exit. I’ve asked questions, and when the opportunity arose to be near the walls, I searched for it.”
“But people do leave the valley. Do you see which way they come and go?”
Russ shook his head, grimacing. “That always occurs sometime during the night. The wagon goes out in the early dawn hours as well. I usually notice one morning that a new person is at breakfast, and one is missing. I think there are two out of the valley at a time, and I suspect that ties into how they get signals about the condemned men. Like I said, though, I don't know how that works. I’ve asked the others—Wes, Arthur, Simon, and Jake,” he named the other kidnapped men, “and they have seen nothing, heard nothing. Mother Angel has kept this place secret for years, bringing people in without anyone knowing about it.”
“She then began rescuing the men from the abyss.”
“Yeah. Seems she knew about the hidden cave and the pool a long while ago too. I think the persons in town get an idea about who Hammer’s next target might be, so they watch for signs that the trip to the abyss is imminent, and maybe one comes hurrying back to set up the rescue. I don't know. I do know where the tunnel from the abyss to the valley is—though it doesn’t do any good. There’s no way to escape through there. Somehow Hammer discovered the cave and began to use it to dispose of his enemies. Obviously, he does not know about the rescues.”
“I wonder why she decided to rescue the doomed men. Out of the goodness of her heart? Or because she still needed recruits?”
Russ chuckled. “Perhaps a little of both. Speaking of recruits, did you notice the white-haired man sitting at Mother’s right hand?”
“Yeah, I did. Sam, wasn’t it? I have a vague notion I’ve seen him before. What’s his last name?”
Kelsey shook his head. “I don't know. It was never given, and he’s never offered it. As I understand, he came here about three months ago, and not entirely of his own free will. He wasn’t thrown in the pit—came from somewhere else. Mother Angel spotted him, decided she wanted him as her consort, and had him brought here.”
“Then technically, she’s guilty of kidnapping.”
“Yep. Sam wants out too. He told me once he has something to do on the outside, though he didn’t elaborate. Clammed up, as a matter of fact, when I asked him what it was.”
Jim rose from the bunk and padded barefoot to one of the windows on either side of the front door. The shadows were lengthening rapidly as the sun lowered below the crest of the walls. He saw a couple of women carrying pails leaving the house and strolling toward the barn, probably to do the evening milking. He turned back.
“I need to go back to the house and talk to Mother Angel, tell her who I am and why I need to get out of here.”
Russ got to his feet. “Won’t do any good, Jim. Chances are you’ll be summoned to her presence tomorrow after breakfast anyway. That’s the routine for newcomers. I told her I was a law officer, and why I needed to get back, not only for my job, but my wife. She just smiles and shakes her head, says that my former life is all behind me, that this valley is my future now. I’ve attempted to talk to her several times, and always get the same answers.”
Jim shook his head. “No. I can’t accept that. I’ll make her understand. Perhaps if we all went to her en masse…”
The sheriff shrugged. “Maybe. However, I can’t promise that Wes Barrie would join us.”
“Your deputy? Why not?”
“Did you notice the comely young lady he was sitting next to at supper? Her name is Roseanne, and Wes is quite smitten. That’s another thing. You know that the women and men are kept separate, especially at night. Mother demands strict morality—celibacy if you will. She tells us that when her quest is complete, there will be a man for every woman, and of course, vice-versa. I’ve gotten the impression that when that happens, she’ll be doing the pairing.”
“I see. Right now it’s a little lopsided toward the males, presumably with the assistance of Marius Hammer.”
“Right. So far he hasn’t taken to tossing any women into the abyss. For whatever reason, Mother Angel seems to be more persuasive when she converts men than women. I understand she plans to go out on a recruiting trip later this summer.”
Jim sighed. “Well, that doesn’t concern me at the moment. I’m going to get out of here, Russ, if I have to scale those walls with my bare hands!”
W*W*W*W*W
Qui se laudari gaudent verbis subdolis, Sera dant peonas turpes poenitentia.
[They who delight to be flattered, pay for their folly by a late repentance.]
Fables (I, 13, 1), Phaedrus (Thrace of Macedonia; 15 BC-50 AD) Roman poet & writer
Qui se laudari gaudent verbis subdolis, Sera dant peonas turpes poenitentia.
[They who delight to be flattered, pay for their folly by a late repentance.]
Fables (I, 13, 1), Phaedrus (Thrace of Macedonia; 15 BC-50 AD) Roman poet & writer
“What do you think? How does this compare to Miguelito’s laboratory?”
Artemus gazed around thoughtfully at the various benches and tables covered with scientific apparatus, bottles and vials of chemicals. “To be honest, I have never visited his primary laboratory, if one exists. My encounters have been at various locations where he was operating temporarily.” Though each time Loveless thought he was settled in permanently in his quest to conquer the world, or at least some part of it! “This is very impressive, Mr. Hammer.” Artie turned to look at his “host.” “It is mister, not doctor?”
“I am self-taught, Mr. Gordon,” Hammer preened. “No degrees. Someday I’ll tell you my entire story. But for now, suffice it to say that while I may not have as much general knowledge as Miguelito, I do believe I am a finer scientist than he is, or ever will be. Perhaps because I have concentrated on the science entirely without the sidetracks of world domination.”
“I suppose it’s too soon for me to ask what your ultimate goal is.” Artemus had experienced a restless night on the extremely comfortable bed in his room, disturbed by nightmares when he dozed, and by anger, grief, and thoughts of vengeance while awake. When morning broke, he had been brought downstairs by one of the armed guards to join Hammer at the breakfast table, where he had been treated as an honored guest rather than a prisoner, despite that the guard lingered just outside the door. Afterwards, Hammer brought him into this basement laboratory, where now two guards also stood by. One of the pair was the scar-faced man who had struck Artie in the wagon, resulting in a painful bruise near his shoulder, but that was of little consequence at this juncture.
Hammer smiled. As usual, the smile did not reach his eyes. “I intend to be the richest, and thus the most powerful, man in the world.”
Artemus cocked his head. “I see. And you plan to do this through science?”
The smile remained in place, the eyes silver ice. “Exactly, Mr. Gordon. Which brings me to our visit here this morning. I have some papers—notes that I have made over the years related to my work. I would like you to read them and give me your opinion.”
Now Artie shook his head slightly. “Mr. Hammer, I am not a scientist. I…”
Hammer waved him off. “You have a scientific mind, Mr. Gordon. I’m quite aware, and very impressed, by what I have been told concerning your accomplishments; the chemical leech for instance, as well as your proficiency with gases and explosives. I believe that your skill in those areas is probably well beyond that of many so-called experts.”
Artemus was a little surprised that Hammer had this knowledge, but he controlled his expression and voice. “And these notes you want me to peruse… they involve…?”
“You’ll see.” Hammer stepped over to a desk and lifted a thick folder. “Here is the first of them, approximately half of what I will eventually give you. And a ledger in which you can make your notes as you read. Go back to your room. A man will be outside your door at all times. Let him know if you wish refreshments, or want to discuss something with me. I will summon you when lunch is ready.”
Artemus accepted the items, nodding thoughtfully, giving the impression, he hoped, that he was truly intrigued. I am an actor, after all, he had told himself over and over. I should be able to persuade an egomaniac like Hammer that I can learn to admire, even worship him; that I am eager to participate in his plans to gain this wealth and power. In the end, I’ll take him down. I may be the only one who can at this point. He’ll pay for murdering my brother.
Back in the bedroom, Artemus stretched out on the chaise lounge near the window with the bundle of papers. The door was closed, and he had not heard the lock click this time. Nevertheless, that made little difference. The scraping of a chair against the wall outside indicated that the armed guard, his “attendant,” he was quite certain, remained in the corridor. No chance to leave—even if he wanted to. And at the moment, escape was farthest from his mind.
W*W*W*W*W
Jim rapped on the door then opened it when he heard the summons from inside. At breakfast, Mother Angel had told him to come to her “office” when he finished his assigned chores, which turned out to be rather light, carrying buckets of water to the chicken coop behind the barn. Russ had told him that newcomers were usually started out slowly. Russ himself was now assigned to the garden area, digging up the ground where plants had finished growing.
Stepping inside, Jim found himself surprised. He was unsure what he had expected of Mother Angel’s inner sanctum, but he was pretty certain it had not been this rather sterile room with stark wooden cabinets, a large desk, and several severe wooden chairs. Mother herself was behind the desk and she smiled warmly. Today, as previously, she was wearing a plain cotton dress, its only adornment a white collar trimmed in very narrow tatting.
“Sit down, James. I hope you are comfortable so far, and recovering from your ordeal.”
“I’m fine,” Jim replied honestly, taking one of the hard chairs. He had slept well, something else that surprised him. Exhaustion was the only explanation. He had expected to lay awake remembering the fall into the abyss, as well as thinking about his lost partner. His grief was exacerbated by the guilt he was experiencing. I should have been able to help him!
“Mother Angel,” he went on quickly before she could speak further, “I have to leave here. I have to return to Desert Springs immediately.”
“That’s not possible.”
“You don’t understand. I’m a government agent…”
“I’m aware of that. Your credentials were in your jacket, soggy, but readable. But you have left that life behind, James. Fate brought you to Eden, and you will remain here. The time will come when you’ll realize this is the place you were meant to be.”
He held his temper. “I am very grateful to you and your people for saving my life. I need to ask you. Was there another man?”
Her expression turned regretful. “We were informed that two men were being taken to the pit. But you were the only one we found. You had pulled yourself up on the ledge, or even that might not have been possible. Usually we receive the warning in good time, but as it was, we were unable to get to the cave any swifter. We found no sign of a second man.”
The knife of anguish in his soul was excruciating. “How do you learn of these… these executions?”
“That must remain our secret for now.”
Jim persisted. “It is imperative that I leave this valley. You cannot hold me here against my will.”
“You may believe at this moment that it is against your will. But you’ll come to understand that destiny took a hand. You were meant to be here with us, James. Fate cannot be changed. I ask you to be patient, to allow yourself to look and listen. You’ll begin to comprehend the happiness that exists here. We do not need to deal with the greed and stress of the outer world. We are our own world. And we shall prosper.” Regardless of her gentle voice and optimistic words, steeliness appeared in her blue-gray eyes.
Nothing he could say, or threaten, swayed her. Jim also attempted to ask questions about her background, but she brushed them aside. The past did not matter now, not hers, not his. All that was relevant was the present and the future, both of which were rosy in her eyes. “Eventually we will have a beautiful community here, with homes and families. New members will swell our numbers. Among them will be the mate for you, if indeed she is not already present. In truth, I have someone in mind that I believe would match up perfectly with you and produce healthy, beautiful children to build and continue our life.”
He was dismissed with the instructions to use the rest of the day to get acquainted with his fellow citizens, learn about their work. “If you see a task that you feel you would be well suited for, please tell me. It may not be possible to assign you to it at once, but perhaps in the future when a member of that team wants a change. Tomorrow you’ll receive your regular assignments.”
Jim was not entirely surprised to find two of the younger, stronger-looking men standing outside the door when he exited the office. Undoubtedly Mother Angel was aware that new “recruits” could be angry, even unruly. Like himself, Russ had protested strongly. These guards undoubtedly helped convince those men they belonged here, as Mother insisted.
As he passed through the kitchen where the young Roseanne and another older woman were still cleaning up after breakfast and perhaps beginning to work on the midday meal, Jim entertained a brief thought about returning to Mother Angel to demand his freedom more forcefully. He could handle those two young men. He pushed the idea aside. He would be better served, he was certain, to appear to go along with the flow, if only to gain the confidence of Mother Angel and others. The sooner that occurred, the sooner he might be able to explore the valley and find the exit.
Four men were in the barn, shoveling out the stalls. Jim paused there. One was the man Russ had identified to him as Simon Dahlen, the former owner of the largest mercantile in Desert Springs, and among the first to openly attempt to stop Marius Hammer’s plans, and the second to vanish. He was a man in his late forties, balding, but with a reddish beard. Two other men were long-time disciples, according to Russ, while the fourth was the white-haired man Sam.
Because of the presence of the faithful followers, Jim could not openly talk to Dahlen or Sam. He asked general questions about the compound and the chores, laughingly said that if given his choice, this particular one would be at the bottom of his list. The others also laughed. Or three of them did. Jim noticed right away that the man named Sam appeared to be concentrating on keeping his back to the newcomer.
He pondered this as he strolled away. As he had told Russ, he had the sense that he had seen Sam before. Had he been on a wanted flyer? Jim tried to remember one where an older man was wanted for a crime, and came up blank. Russ had said that several men had been present when Jim was divested of his soggy clothes while unconscious, and his credentials had been discovered. So others, if not all, knew of his official capacity. Did Sam fear arrest, even within this sanctuary?
Jim spent the remainder of the day as Mother Angel had suggested, wandering around the valley, getting acquainted with its inhabitants—and also its layout. With every opportunity that presented itself, he moved as close as possible to the sheer walls of the valley, and tried to inspect them. He soon realized that Russ was right: wherever the exit tunnel was, it was well disguised, either naturally or by other means.
He did spot a dark aperture in the lighter rocks, a dozen feet or so above the valley floor. When he asked Wes Barrie, who was nearby clearing an irrigation ditch, the former deputy confirmed that the hole in the canyon wall was indeed that tunnel, the location of which was no secret here in the valley. A ladder was used to reach it. Knowing about that particular tunnel opening did not help anyone who wanted to leave.
Wes Barrie was a stocky young man with a round face, clear blue eyes, and curling blond hair. Russ said that Barrie proved his courage and steadfastness on more than one occasion, helping out the sheriff and other men in the area, which was the main reason Russ Kelsey decided to take him on as deputy. Russ had experienced some guilt over this, because he had felt that Hammer had executed the younger man as a warning to the sheriff to not hire deputies. “I sure felt a lot better when I found Wes in here alive!” Russ stated.
When he went to the main house for the midday meal, Jim deliberately seated himself between two younger women, a brunette in her thirties named Helen, and Janet, a blonde slightly younger. During the meal he talked with each of them, bestowing smiles and compliments. He had no idea whether either of these two could help him, but he would never know unless he tried. They responded as most women did to his overtures, smiling and flirting back, though perhaps a little less so than if they had been out in the open world. Unfortunately he also noticed the icy gazes of a couple of the males who undoubtedly had this pair of women in their own sights.
During the afternoon, he lingered where the various women were scrubbing clothes in tubs and hanging them on a line and was rewarded when Helen mentioned that she was due to leave the valley in a day or two. That meant she was one who knew where the exit was. He tried to find out exactly when she was going to leave, but either she did not know or she was too cagey to reveal the information. Mother Angel had undoubtedly already warned the disciples who were here willingly to keep the secret from the newcomers. A chosen few knew the location. Those disciples apparently had already proved their loyalty in some manner.
He did not give up, however, and even ingratiated himself with Rufus, the dessert-loving man who had given him and Russ a chance to talk the previous evening. But Rufus blithely told him that he had never left the valley after his arrival more than three years ago, and had no desire to do so. He was happy here.
The following day did not allow much time for conversation as Jim was assigned to the irrigation ditch crew along with young Wes and two other men. Their job was to make sure that the passage remained clear to allow the water from the stream to reach the gardens, a seemingly never ending task. Apparently because the stream itself was swift flowing, the water in the ditches was also rapid, and tended to bring down soil and rocks, blocking the channels. In this warm New Mexico climate, the plants dried up rapidly without water.
Jim did have an opportunity to talk to Mother Angel again when she came out to survey the work, but the results were the same. Even telling her that he was on a mission to stop a madman whose plans might cause the deaths of hundreds, even thousands, had no effect. She continued to insist that in time he would lose all desire to leave her paradise, pointing out that the presence of such people as Hammer and the threats in the outside world were another excellent reason to remain in Eden.
She mentioned once more her plans to form families by joining couples—as soon as she was able to even the numbers of male and female residents. This time she included a mildly veiled threat about people who even considered rebellion. When he mentioned this to Russ later, the sheriff said he had not heard of anyone being punished, yet he concurred with Jim that more than benevolence was keeping all these people happily ensconced in this hidden canyon.
When Mother Angel went on to inspect another site, a lanky man named Bert turned to Jim. “Why do you want to leave paradise?”
Jim shook his head. “I have business in the outside world. Important business.”
Bert smiled. “I thought I did too until Mother convinced me I could leave it all behind. Sure has been a blessing.” He sighed happily, and Jim could only wonder what he had left behind: a nagging wife or an unfulfilling, poor paying job, perhaps, a law officer on his trail? How many of these people had abandoned families or other pressing responsibilities in the outside world? Although they were required to toil here, their efforts and new duties were much easier than they might have been facing out there.
Sam continued to avoid Jim, always choosing the farthest spot from him at the table, and staying away from him otherwise. Jim could only guess that Sam was wanted for something, some crime in the world beyond. The memory of where he had seen the older man before was persistently and annoyingly elusive.
On the third morning, the waitress from the restaurant, Mira, was at the breakfast table, and Helen was missing. Jim tried to disguise his frustration and anger. Russ had said that these switches of outside spies occurred rather infrequently, as well as irregularly. The only thing he could do was hope that the flirtation that had occurred in Desert Spring would mean that Mira continued to be susceptible to his charms.
To that end, he caught up with her as the residents dispersed for their chores. She was walking toward the barn, where he would also acquire his tools for the day. “Mira, I want to thank you for sending the signal that saved my life.”
She paused her steps, smiling. “I’m glad I was successful. Sometimes it’s very touch and go. They reached you in time.”
Stopping alongside her, Jim dropped his head. “But they were unable to rescue my partner.” He could not keep the bitterness from his tone.
“Oh! Didn’t you know?”
He looked at her. “Know what?”
“He’s alive.”
Jim gaped. “What?”
“I have only seen him once, but he was in the carriage with Hammer when it returned to town. I don’t understand it… but at that time, he was alive and well.”
The news staggered Jim West, and was difficult to absorb. For three days he had been in mourning, planning his vengeance against Marius Hammer. “You’re sure it was him.”
“Oh, yes. I honestly don't know why he wasn’t thrown into the abyss. It’s never happened before. Of course, two men were never taken to the cave at the same time before.”
“You… don't think he was taken back… later?”
“I can’t say with absolute certainty, but I don't think so. They would have had to come back through Desert Springs, and I can usually see everything on the street from the restaurant. Nor has anyone mentioned such an occurrence. My thought is he is being held prisoner at Hammer’s house.”
Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Artie’s alive! Alive! “Hammer must have plans to hold him hostage, or perhaps try to force him to transmit false reports to prevent more government intrusion.”
Mira put a hand on his arm. “Mother told me how you were determined to return to town to avenge your partner. Now that’s not necessary. You can relax and enjoy Eden.”
Jim smiled. “Yes, I guess that’s true.”