The Wild, Wild West
The Night of the Baleful Deception
by the lurker

West sat in the corner of the parlor car of the train, his head leaning into his hand. The singing from the galley car continued, causing him to sigh in annoyance. Couldn't there be just one morning that he didn't do this while puttering around in there? Jim turned to look out the window, in an attempt to distract himself from the caterwauling. The world sped by as the train chugged toward Denver and the next assignment, the trees defying the laws of inertia, as they blurred past him.

Not even one week had passed: it had only been five days. Five painfully, lousy days. The tension in Jim's body increased as he recalled Grant and Richmond greeting him at the train station in Washington D.C. It had been awkward, uncomfortable and edgy all around. Richmond and Grant were afraid to say too much, and Jim had been afraid to say too little. He shook his head: it no longer mattered, things were the way they were. If he intended to continue as an agent, he was going to have to get used to it.... to him.

The singing increased in volume as the perpetrator entered the main car of the train, carrying a tray full of coffee. West glared in the direction of the approaching man. He was slight, with no muscle of which to speak, thinning sandy blonde hair, and tiny, round spectacles. He looked as though he belonged in a lab, not in the field. The vivid green eyes behind the glasses glanced up expectantly at West, causing him to misstep, bobbling the tray.

It was a close brush with disaster, but the man set the tray down on the table with only a slight clatter. Jim just stared at him. It was next to impossible to believe that such an uncoordinated individual had managed to pass the rigors of training, much less survived on assignment. West watched as the calamity in motion bobbled a cup and saucer, attempting to pour coffee. Jim was prepared to leap out of harm's way; it wouldn't have been the first time in the past five days.

Smiling, the little pip with spectacles handed Jim the coffee, nervously spilling a little over the edge onto West's leg.



Oh my....oh dear, I'm sorry. I've done it again. Here, the little man picked up a napkin from the tray, let me clean that off--

Jim almost jumped off the divan, No, no, he smiled nervously, that really won't be necessary, thanks. I can take care of it.

West took the napkin and cleaned himself off. He wanted nothing more than to abandon this pain in his posterior at the nearest train station. Or better yet, out in the middle of nowhere. What in the hell had Richmond been thinking? This was his idea of a replacement for Arte? An immediate pall fell over Jim's face: there would never be a replacement for Artemus. He stared into his coffee, wondering when the sadness he felt would dissapate, if ever. Jim felt so alone.

He observed Solomon as the man meticulously sipped his coffee, wiping the napkin across his lips after every swallow. Five days felt like five years. His thoughts drifted again to Arte. He wondered where he was and what he was doing. Jim hadn't had the presence of mind to ask him where he was going, what he would do, or....... Or how West would know when it was over. But then, Arte would have thought of it and arranged something.

Once again, he stared into his coffee cup: no doubt he would receive a telegram one day, and that would be that. No funeral, no good-byes, just gone. Jim wanted nothing more than to go in search of his partner, and be with him through the end; but the look in Arte's eyes when he told Jim he didn't want to subject him to the deterioration, prevented him. He knew he had to let him go.

He set the cup down with more force than he intended. Artemus had not given him a choice. West stood, tugged down on his vest and straightened his cravat. The smallish voice squeaked out at him, rather like nails across a chalk board.

Don't you think we ought to make a plan?

West stared at the little man before him, a strained look upon his face.

What do you have in mind?

The green eyes lit up, Now that you've asked, I actually have several ideas.

Excitedly, the pip jumped up and ran to the desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out what appeared to be hundreds of pieces of scrap paper, all of them filled with unintelligible scribbles. Jim gaped in disbelief. For someone who was so meticulous in drinking coffee, he was a made professor in the note plotting department. Arte had always taken notes neatly in a journal. Jim frowned as the little man brought the memos over to him, foisting them into his hands.

See? I have tons of ideas on how we can approach this assignment.

West sighed deeply,

--This one is about using disguises to sneak into the--



And this one, this is my favorite, we can use some toys I've created to--





Why don't you pick out your top five, write them down neatly on one piece of paper, and then we can discuss them.

Oh. If that's how you and Mr. Gordon did it, Mr. West.

Jim's voice turned icy, How Mr. Gordon and I did things has nothing to do with us. Do you understand? Solomon nodded, so West continued, And Marvin, don't call me Mr. West. It's Jim or James, got it?

The little man nodded again, and Jim decided to get some air.

Fine. I'm going to check on the horses.

Marvin watched the most famous and much talked about Jim West exit, heading toward the stable car. In D.C., there had been much discussion and supposition regarding the sudden resignation of the West's partner, Artemus Gordon. Some said that the men had had a falling out; others thought Gordon had simply grown tired of living in Jim West's shadow; and there were those who said it was something far more covert.

Solomon shuffled the slips of paper in his hands, and headed toward the desk, tripping over the leg of the divan on his way. If Gordon left the Secret Service, there had to have been a reason, and Marvin doubted that it was due to a falling out, or some kind of ego trip. The idea of something circumspect seemed not only more interesting, but far closer to the truth. Perhaps there would be time to discover an answer to the mystery of the great West/Gordon breakup, during the investigation of the latest counterfeiting operation in Denver.

At least Marvin hoped so.