(Click image to enlarge.)
THE NIGHT OF FORCED HEGEMONY:
Scene Three
James West lay on the stone floor of the cellar- stark naked, shivering in a puddle of his own cold sweat and bleeding from multiple lacerations- willing himself, mercilessly, not to pass out. Betrayal was a bitter draught to swallow and the wounded secret agent vowed with all the steely strength of his formidable will that someday he would kill Artemus Gordon for what he had done…and it didn’t matter whether the traitor died fast or slow, James West wasn’t that kind of man, but die he most certainly would. That the young secret service agent would eventually escape and that all would somehow, impossibly, be well was a certainty to a mind trained in relentless optimism and boundless faith in his own capabilities. He was James West, confidante of presidents, specimen of physical perfection and extraordinary mental acuity, a well paid public servant with his own private train…how could he not prevail at the end? And then his confidence, born of a slow-dancing opportunism that was part genetic and part the result of decades of assiduous practice, would suddenly waver. Jim would convulse, choking on still-born sobs that filled him with unreasoning shame, as the dreaded name echoed in his mind like a gunshot- Miguelito Loveless…Doctor Miguelito Loveless…Artemus’ cruel parting words, uttered with a sneer as the heavy door to the cellar slammed and was bolted shut plunging Jim into darkness, ticked in his mind inexorably as a doomsday clock; he was the helpless prisoner of a diminutive madman capable of anything…anything at all. Continue reading
