Escapes
Title: Escapes
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, this is just for fun
Characters/Pairings: Artie, Myka, Pete, McPherson (OCs)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,898
Summary: Artie, Pete, and Myka escape construction at the Warehouse to search for an artifact that kills those who use it but are they the only ones after it?
In the turbulent history of the Warehouse it was not common for the place to only be half destroyed. When destruction came to the Warehouse it took the whole thing out, walls, artifacts, people, and all. Yet, this was a rare occasion when the building was still standing but the doorway, so to speak, was “off its hinges” as Mrs. Frederic had been saying. So, instead of starting from scratch on a Warehouse 14 they were conducting repairs. Or, at least, Mrs. Frederic's mystery workers were.
“Maybe I should just kill myself....” Artie mumbled into his keyboard as the pounding and sawing and drilling echoed behind him.
“I think we've learned you're pretty indestructible, Artie,” Pete said from somewhere to his right.
“To my immense surprise,” Artie groaned, wishing Pete didn't have such good hearing.
“Well, hey, it could have just been luck that in your pocket was-”
“Pete...” Artie began.
“Please tell me there is some killer quill pen or attack dodge ball out there for us to get,” Myka interrupted. “I don't know how much more of this I can take.”
Artie pursed his lips, glancing to Myka slumped over in a chair to his right with her hands over her ears.
“When I find one do you think I’m leaving it to you two?” Artie said with a snort. “As the ranking member... well, not ranking… you know what I mean. Anyway, if something comes up I’m the one getting out of here.”
“That’s pretty cruel, Artie,” Pete said, standing up to hover over Artie’s shoulder. “After all, you’re the Warehouse wiz.”
“And remember what happened the last time you left us alone here?” Myka said, still hunched over in her chair.
“Oh, so now it was a disaster?” Artie replied. “Plus, you handled it just fine.”
“It was 30 seconds until it exploded,” Pete said.
“It wouldn’t have exploded.”
“Yes, it would,” Pete and Myka chorused.
Artie couldn’t stop a short bark of laughter.
“Obviously, you can't leave us alone here,” Myka said, lifting her head up slightly.
“Far too dangerous,” Pete added.
“Maybe we shouldn't even be here now,” Myka continued.
“Oh no,” Artie cut in; “If I'm here with all of this then you two are here too.”
The two groaned in time, Myka flopping back against her chair and Pete sitting down in the chair beside Artie and putting his forehead on the table.
“Cruelty...” he muttered.
“Yes, I'm Ivan the Terrible,” Artie replied, voice thick with sarcasm.
“Ivan the what?”
Myka laughed.
Suddenly something on the screen by Artie's right hand caught his eye. On the screen were several newspaper articles relating to the early deaths of three people, two women and one man all from the same Georgia town. The cause of death in each case was sudden heart failure while the deceased had no history of heart problems. The first article was dated a year before the second while the third was only three months later.
“And what do you have in common...” Artie pursed his lips, checking on the connections the computer had formulated to draw them together.
It was a lovely program of Claudia's which helped cull the herd of information by linking things on various basis of similarity such as objects mentioned, locations, images, close timed death dates, etc. Claudia’s program improved on the already rather clever Warehouse system. Artie just wished he knew where Claudia was to tell her how helpful it was. However, he'd have to worry about Claudia's disappearance later.
One connection between the three articles was the image of a necklace found in pictures of the deceased from all three articles; the first of Betty Carrel worn around her neck then Nancy Shamster also adorning her neck, and the third of Brett Shamster barely visible under a collared shirt also around his neck despite the necklace being obviously feminine.
“Ahem.” Myka and Pete both perked up at Artie's noise.
“What?” Pete leaned back in his chair trying to see the computer screen. “Got something?”
“Please say yes.” Myka crossed her fingers.
Artie turned to look at them with a smile. “Yep.”
---------------------
“It's Eva Peron's necklace.”
Myka and Pete perked up from their research posts around the room twenty minutes later.
“I thought you didn't like musicals Artie?” Pete joked.
“Like Argentina, president's wife in the 40s, Eva Peron?” Myka asked turning around in her chair away from the computer.
“Oooo, show off.” Pete wiggled his fingers at her. She just rolled her eyes.
Artie held up a stack of papers with a newspaper clipping on top, a picture of Eva Peron wearing the same necklace from the three articles they'd found. Myka stood up and took the clipping from Artie.
“It's the necklace she wore the night her husband was elected president.” Artie held up a finger. “And I found a note from… well from some old date, about a necklace which fulfills all the wearers, uh.... ambitions, shall we say. Nothing beyond that though.”
“Shouldn't all that be computerized?” Pete pointed to the filing cabinets.
Myka punched him in the shoulder then looked back to Artie. “Necklace that gives you a leg up?”
Artie shrugged. “Sort of; I believe it's like having all your life goals met.”
“That's very after school special friendly.” Pete took the clipping from Myka.
“Except these people are all dead.” Myka gestured behind her to the computer screen where the three articles were queued up side by side.
“Well, Eva Peron died young at... um, 34 or 35 I think.” Artie flipped through a book on the table, checking the glossary in the back.
“33,” Pete corrected.
The other two looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“What? I like Andrew Llyod Webber.”
“No taste,” Artie clucked.
“Like you enjoy theater anyway!”
“Hey!” Myka snapped her fingers at them, eyes on the computer screen. Once they quieted she turned to look at them. “All three of these people were 33 when they suddenly died.”
“Oh ho!” Pete pointed at Myka. “So, you wear the necklace.”
“Succeed in your life's ambitions.”
“Then get the chop once you hit the big 33!”
Myka clapped her hands. “Necklace is an artifact.”
They both turned to Artie in triumph. He smiled back at them, dropped the stack of papers in his hand on the desk.
“Looks like we're going to Georgia.”
The drilling and sawing outside would have to continue on without agents to annoy.
--------------------
Once in Georgia, after a plane ride filled with debate about the pros and cons of musical theater, the team split up. Artie headed to the library to browse local newspaper articles while Myka and Pete went off to interview the families and friends of the deceased.
Back in a dark corner of the library Artie sat in front of a microfiche machine slowly turning the crank to view the newspaper articles. So far he'd learned a bit about the three individuals’ successful business ventures to no undue surprise. Beyond that it was fairly boring and he was beginning to think he should have made Myka or Pete do this when his Farnsworth buzzed. Artie flipped open his Farnsworth with a relieved sigh.
“Yeah?”
“So!” Pete’s face filled the screen at slightly too close a view. “Betty, the first girl, was Nancy’s sister! Betty dies, the necklace goes to Nancy. Had a bit of a fight with Betty’s friend about who would get it too, apparently.”
“Skip it, Pete,” Myka said from somewhere Artie couldn’t see.
“Okay, okay, sounded like a good fight though!”
“Got it, Pete,” Artie interrupted.
“Yeah, so, Nancy gets the necklace. Looks like she already knew what it did from Betty, except for the death part.” Pete made a slicing motion across his neck. “Then when she kicked it her husband Brett takes the necklace and when he turns 33, bites it as well. You’d think they would notice the death rate.”
“Apparently not.” Artie took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “So, where does that leave the necklace now?”
“Don’t know yet,” Myka said taking the Farnsworth from Pete. “Brett has two sisters, both live in town so perhaps them. You find anything?”
“Nothing exciting.”
“It is a library.” Pete poked his head into the view of the screen to give Artie a look.
“I should fire you for that.” Myka laughed “Anyway!” Artie picked up his Farnsworth and gathered up the microphish film around him. “Let’s meet up at the first sister’s house.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Pete saluted.
Myka snorted at the same time Artie groaned.
“That's it, I'm banning Star Trek.”
Pete gasped. “No way, Artie! That's like banning Christmas!”
“Good thing I'm Jewish,” Artie said snapping shut his Farnsworth.
-------------------
“A necklace? My brother?”
The three Warehouse employees sat slightly squished together on a white couch across from Ms. Rebecca Shamster.
“Well, it would have been Nancy’s,” Myka amended.
“Though your brother might have worn it,” Pete added, picking up a cookie from the plate on the coffee table between them.
Rebecca gave them a confused look.
Artie sighed and sat forward slightly. “It’s a sort of older style necklace, big jewels on it, can’t miss it.”
Rebecca chewed on her lower lip and shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to that stuff. It distracts from the real things in life. No need for such gaudy decoration I say.”
Myka and Pete glanced sidelong at each other.
“And I see no reason why my brother would be wearing a necklace of Nancy’s.” She sniffed. “They were so very dear… I do miss…”
“Ms. Shamster.” Artie put his cup of tea down, trying to get her mind off of her dead family members and back to the conversation. “What about their things? Are there still boxes, uh… things in storage, anything?”
“Oh,” She sat up, hands in her lap, “it all went to auction.”
“Auction?” Artie asked.
“Quite.” She smiled.
“Auction.” Myka looked crestfallen.
“Yes,” Rebecca said again, “all their valuables that weren’t some sort of family heirloom.”
“Auction?” Pete chewed slowly.
“Yes.” Rebecca repeated with more emphasis then cleared her throat looking uncomfortable. “We needed… there was no reason to… I mean, with so many possessions and the family…”
“No need to explain Ms. Shamster,” Myka said, a bright cheerful smile suddenly on her face. “Do you have any sort of record of the sales?”
“I’m afraid not. All sales were final and paid.”
“Damn,” Pete grumbled. “No easy stalking.”
Myka kicked his leg.
“Do you remember a sale of any jewelry?” Artie asked hopefully, plainly not looking at the other two.
Rebecca pursed her lips and held up a finger. “A box of jewelry did sell.” Myka, Pete, and Artie all perked up. “I can’t remember who bought it…” They sagged back slightly. “Oh!” Rebecca clapped her hands together once. “It was Helen, Helen Masters. She was a friend of Brett’s I believe.”
Myka whipped out her pad quickly writing the name down.
“Thank you very much, Ms. Shamster. That helps a lot.” Pete grinned. “Wonderful cookies, by the way.”
They stood up with smiles and handshakes then headed to the door.
“If you want to talk to her I’m sure she will be at the party tonight.” Rebecca called from the parlor as they were almost at the front door.
Pete, Artie and Myka stuck their heads back in. “Party?”
“Yes.” She smiled with a girlish sort of expression. “There is a big party at the town hall tonight. Its founder’s day this week and every year there is a party. Helen is the head of the Department of Community Development and Enrichment, just elected two weeks ago in fact.”
“Gaining a personal ambition?” Pete glanced at Artie and Myka as he spoke.
Rebecca laughed. “I suppose you could say that.”
Rebecca stood up and walked over to a stack of newspapers on a side table. Pulling one out of the middle, she scanned the cover then brought it over to them. Artie took the paper from her hand and she pointed to a photo on the over.
“There’s Helen there.” Her finger pointed to a smiling woman in a red suit wearing a familiar ornate necklace. “She’s going to do a wonderful job as department head, I’m sure.”
Artie looked back at Myka and Pete.
“A party sounds delightful,” Myka said, turning to Rebecca. “Any way that visitors to town might be able to find an invite?”
----------------------
Approximately 9:00 PM that evening found Artie and Pete decked out in rented tuxes and Myka in a new black dress attending a certain founder’s day party.
“So, if she knows what the necklace does she should be wearing it.” Artie looked as far as he could down the long entrance hall and into the ballroom across from the front door, scanning for their quarry. “Of course, she might not know yet for sure.”
“Got the picture, Artie.” Pete clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Goal number one, find Helen.”
“We don’t want to be too obtrusive,” Myka said, her secret service training clearly kicking in. “If she knows what it does and sees us coming for her she might make a break for it.”
“If she knows what it does,” Pete emphasized.
“That is the rub.” Artie adjusted his bow tie.
“Well, it’s likely that she’s in the ballroom since she is host to this event so I say we start there.” Myka leisurely pointed to the ballroom, glancing in a smaller side room quickly.
“Great idea. You two go dance,” Artie said.
“What?” They both snapped.
“We need to blend in,” Artie pointed out, “and as you’re so glad to often mention I am a bit out of your age range for dance partners.”
“I’m terrible at following, anyway.” Pete fluttered his eyelashes at Artie.
Artie just raised an eyebrow back at him then went on. “You can cut through the crowd better that way and,” he looked at Myka significantly, “keep a low profile.”
Myka gazed back at Artie then grumbled, “Fine,” and took Pete’s hand.
“Keep your eyes open!”
Myka spared Artie a sarcastic smile then walked toward the ballroom with Pete in tow. Pete flashed Artie an ‘Ok’ sign over his shoulder.
The only other rooms with guests at the event were the buffet room and a volunteer center to one side. A quick check turned up no Helen, so Artie made his way over to the crowed ballroom as well. Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the room.
A throng of guests danced around Artie, laughing, talking, glasses of wine clinking against each other. The room was larger than it had appeared outside and packed to the brim. The whole thing felt far too exposed, too many places to hide, too many people. This was the worst kind of situation for an artifact to be involved in, public with high risk to civilians. For all they knew someone’s ambition to kill those trying to take back the artifact could be easily granted by the necklace. They weren’t sure yet just what the extent of the necklace’s power was.
Artie could see Myka and Pete to his left dancing among the people like just another couple enjoying the night. However, Artie could see their eyes moving in all directions. It was now or never to find Helen for her safety as well as everyone else’s.
Just then, among the crowd a face registered vaguely in Artie’s memory. It was just a flash but he was sure he knew the face.
“Who was…?” It wasn’t Helen he saw. It clicked; it had looked like McPherson.
Suddenly, Artie felt someone close behind him. Panic flashed in his head but before he could react a hand was covering his eyes and everything went silent. Artie twisted away from the hand to face the owner but he already knew who it was.
“James,” Artie all but growled.
James McPherson grinned back at him. “Miss me?”
“One hardly misses someone who blew them up.”
“And yet here you are,” James replied.
Artie just glared back. Around them all the guests stood frozen in place; nothing in the room moved in fact, not a person to breathe or a gust of wind. Artie could see Pete and Myka; Pete frozen looking away from him while Myka’s eyes were almost aligned with him, locked just out of place. In front of him James had one hand raised in the air holding an old leather bound book open to the first page. Looking back to James' face, Artie pointed to the book.
“The Time Machine?”
James nodded a fraction. “Jules Vern.” He laughed quietly then walked toward Artie a step, continuing. “I once recall you denying the existence of this artifact, Arthur. Something about how it was too fantastical even for the Warehouse. I believe I told you fantastical wasn't a word.”
“It is,” Artie replied tersely, stepping back once, keeping the distance between them.
“Regardless of your word use, Arthur, as you can see the artifact does in fact exist,” James swept his free arm around to indicate the motionless crowd, “and works rather well.”
“It certainly does seem like time has stopped...” Artie muttered.
“Except for us,” James replied
Artie balled his hands into fists, “What do you want, James? You didn't go to such elaborate lengths just to talk to me.”
“Oh, Arthur, always all business. 'What do you want?' Maybe I did just want to talk to you... or maybe it's all a game to me,” James said his grin widening in almost a cartoonish fashion. “Perhaps I am the mad villain wanting nothing more than to watch the hero suffer.”
“Does that make me the hero then?”
“The Sherlock to my Moriarty?” James countered stepping to the right.
“Funny that you make yourself the villain, James,” Artie replied, unconsciously circling to the left in response to James' movements. “Feeling some guilt?”
“I know you want me as the villain, Arthur.”
Artie scoffed, “Why would I want that, James? We were always better as partners before - ”
“Before your betrayal.”
Artie pointed a finger, his teeth clenched. “Don't start, this is not about that!”
James shrugged as if the subject was nothing, “Fair enough, Arthur, but you still want me in this part. You want me to be the power hungry villain so you can be the hero struggling on the side of the right.”
“Trying to ascribe archetypes to real life, James?” Artie shot back, still keeping his distance. “Don't you have something more creative in that head of yours?”
“Always the one to challenge my intellect and push me further into greatness, weren't you Arthur?” James replied, his raised hand lowering slightly. “Well, if you insist.”
“Wait!” Arthur shouted, not knowing what James was planning to do.
“Oh, do stop fretting, Arthur,” James said. “I don't plan on killing anyone. Certainly not your precious Bering and Lattimer.”
Artie glanced in their direction. “If you turn those pages....”
“And speed up their time?” James finished for Artie. “I told you I don't plan on killing anyone.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The same thing you do, Arthur.”
Artie cocked his head slightly. “You encased in bronze at the Warehouse?”
“Amusing,” James replied, “but I was thinking more of our present situation.”
James gazed behind him and following his line of sight Artie saw what they'd been looking for all along, the necklace around the neck of Helen Masters, frozen in mid twirl. Artie bit back a curse trying to think of some way to fix the situation, some way to get the artifacts away from James and keep everyone safe. Nothing was coming.
“I am taking the necklace,” James continued beginning to step back slowly. “And as you can certainly see, Arthur, if you try to get in my way or try to chase me I shall flip to the last page and everyone can find out how the story ends.”
“Getting us to do all the work again so you can steal another artifact?”
James gave him a somewhat pitying look. “Let's not squabble over who did what.” He continued to back up toward the necklace away from Artie. “The point is what is happening now.”
“Why do you want this artifact?” Artie was stalling for time. “Have some ambitions you want realized?”
“Oh, Arthur I am sure you can think up any number of uses for an artifact such as this, though I do believe I am past the age limit for my own personal application.”
“James, stop.”
James only grinned at him. “I'm very sorry Arthur.” He had reached Helen now. “But it seems you lose again.”
“Enough games!” Artie took a step forward.
“Ah ah.” James tapped a finger against the page of the book. “Control yourself, Arthur, or more lives shall be lost because of your Warehouse allegiances.”
With his free hand James unclasped the necklace from the frozen woman's neck and slipped it into his pocket. Artie clenched his fists, dying to move, to tackle James, to stop this! James continued to stare at Artie, book held up, as he backed further away through the frozen crowd to one of the glass doors leading outside.
“Farewell, Arthur.” His hand was on the door handle. “I am sure we will meet again soon.”
The book snapped shut and everything came of life around Artie. The music resumed, the people moved and life continued as if it had never stopped. He sprinted into action, zigzagging through the crowd, trying to reach the door James had disappeared through.
“Artie?” He heard Myka call from behind him.
Struggling through the dancing people, Artie finally reached the doors. Yanking them open, he ran out and stopped short on the grass. James was nowhere in sight.
“Artie?” Pete appeared at Artie’s left and Myka at his right. “What happened?”
Artie turned to Pete with a sigh. “McPherson.”
“What?” they both gasped.
“McPherson came and took the necklace.”
“What? I… I didn’t see him.” Myka flung out a hand. “We didn’t see him! How did he…”
“He had The Time Machine, the book, it stops time.”
“Whoa.” Pete put a hand over his mouth.
“How did…”
“If you cover your eyes when the book is first opened you can stay out of time while time stops around you.”
“That’s kind of creepy, Artie,” Pete said.
“I didn’t make the artifact,” Artie snapped back.
“So, that’s it.” Myka moved so she was in front of Artie and Pete. “He just swooped in and took an artifact from us again.” Artie just stared at her. “No way. He can’t just keep doing this!”
“Don’t think I’m not right there with you, Myka, but we’ve seen what this guy can do. I don’t think it’s that simple.” Pete turned to Artie. “Did he say anything?”
Artie laughed without humor. “Oh yeah… He had plenty to say.”
When Artie did not elaborate further Pete sighed and looked at Myka. She was biting her lip and shaking her head.
“What do we do?” Myka asked. “This can’t just be it. We can’t just lose.”
“Oh, it’s not just it.” Artie crossed his arms. “We have to find a way to be better than him.”
Myka nodded resolutely at Artie as Pete smiled confidently. Artie just stared out at the night sky. He would not let James beat him, not again.
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, this is just for fun
Characters/Pairings: Artie, Myka, Pete, McPherson (OCs)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,898
Summary: Artie, Pete, and Myka escape construction at the Warehouse to search for an artifact that kills those who use it but are they the only ones after it?
In the turbulent history of the Warehouse it was not common for the place to only be half destroyed. When destruction came to the Warehouse it took the whole thing out, walls, artifacts, people, and all. Yet, this was a rare occasion when the building was still standing but the doorway, so to speak, was “off its hinges” as Mrs. Frederic had been saying. So, instead of starting from scratch on a Warehouse 14 they were conducting repairs. Or, at least, Mrs. Frederic's mystery workers were.
“Maybe I should just kill myself....” Artie mumbled into his keyboard as the pounding and sawing and drilling echoed behind him.
“I think we've learned you're pretty indestructible, Artie,” Pete said from somewhere to his right.
“To my immense surprise,” Artie groaned, wishing Pete didn't have such good hearing.
“Well, hey, it could have just been luck that in your pocket was-”
“Pete...” Artie began.
“Please tell me there is some killer quill pen or attack dodge ball out there for us to get,” Myka interrupted. “I don't know how much more of this I can take.”
Artie pursed his lips, glancing to Myka slumped over in a chair to his right with her hands over her ears.
“When I find one do you think I’m leaving it to you two?” Artie said with a snort. “As the ranking member... well, not ranking… you know what I mean. Anyway, if something comes up I’m the one getting out of here.”
“That’s pretty cruel, Artie,” Pete said, standing up to hover over Artie’s shoulder. “After all, you’re the Warehouse wiz.”
“And remember what happened the last time you left us alone here?” Myka said, still hunched over in her chair.
“Oh, so now it was a disaster?” Artie replied. “Plus, you handled it just fine.”
“It was 30 seconds until it exploded,” Pete said.
“It wouldn’t have exploded.”
“Yes, it would,” Pete and Myka chorused.
Artie couldn’t stop a short bark of laughter.
“Obviously, you can't leave us alone here,” Myka said, lifting her head up slightly.
“Far too dangerous,” Pete added.
“Maybe we shouldn't even be here now,” Myka continued.
“Oh no,” Artie cut in; “If I'm here with all of this then you two are here too.”
The two groaned in time, Myka flopping back against her chair and Pete sitting down in the chair beside Artie and putting his forehead on the table.
“Cruelty...” he muttered.
“Yes, I'm Ivan the Terrible,” Artie replied, voice thick with sarcasm.
“Ivan the what?”
Myka laughed.
Suddenly something on the screen by Artie's right hand caught his eye. On the screen were several newspaper articles relating to the early deaths of three people, two women and one man all from the same Georgia town. The cause of death in each case was sudden heart failure while the deceased had no history of heart problems. The first article was dated a year before the second while the third was only three months later.
“And what do you have in common...” Artie pursed his lips, checking on the connections the computer had formulated to draw them together.
It was a lovely program of Claudia's which helped cull the herd of information by linking things on various basis of similarity such as objects mentioned, locations, images, close timed death dates, etc. Claudia’s program improved on the already rather clever Warehouse system. Artie just wished he knew where Claudia was to tell her how helpful it was. However, he'd have to worry about Claudia's disappearance later.
One connection between the three articles was the image of a necklace found in pictures of the deceased from all three articles; the first of Betty Carrel worn around her neck then Nancy Shamster also adorning her neck, and the third of Brett Shamster barely visible under a collared shirt also around his neck despite the necklace being obviously feminine.
“Ahem.” Myka and Pete both perked up at Artie's noise.
“What?” Pete leaned back in his chair trying to see the computer screen. “Got something?”
“Please say yes.” Myka crossed her fingers.
Artie turned to look at them with a smile. “Yep.”
---------------------
“It's Eva Peron's necklace.”
Myka and Pete perked up from their research posts around the room twenty minutes later.
“I thought you didn't like musicals Artie?” Pete joked.
“Like Argentina, president's wife in the 40s, Eva Peron?” Myka asked turning around in her chair away from the computer.
“Oooo, show off.” Pete wiggled his fingers at her. She just rolled her eyes.
Artie held up a stack of papers with a newspaper clipping on top, a picture of Eva Peron wearing the same necklace from the three articles they'd found. Myka stood up and took the clipping from Artie.
“It's the necklace she wore the night her husband was elected president.” Artie held up a finger. “And I found a note from… well from some old date, about a necklace which fulfills all the wearers, uh.... ambitions, shall we say. Nothing beyond that though.”
“Shouldn't all that be computerized?” Pete pointed to the filing cabinets.
Myka punched him in the shoulder then looked back to Artie. “Necklace that gives you a leg up?”
Artie shrugged. “Sort of; I believe it's like having all your life goals met.”
“That's very after school special friendly.” Pete took the clipping from Myka.
“Except these people are all dead.” Myka gestured behind her to the computer screen where the three articles were queued up side by side.
“Well, Eva Peron died young at... um, 34 or 35 I think.” Artie flipped through a book on the table, checking the glossary in the back.
“33,” Pete corrected.
The other two looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“What? I like Andrew Llyod Webber.”
“No taste,” Artie clucked.
“Like you enjoy theater anyway!”
“Hey!” Myka snapped her fingers at them, eyes on the computer screen. Once they quieted she turned to look at them. “All three of these people were 33 when they suddenly died.”
“Oh ho!” Pete pointed at Myka. “So, you wear the necklace.”
“Succeed in your life's ambitions.”
“Then get the chop once you hit the big 33!”
Myka clapped her hands. “Necklace is an artifact.”
They both turned to Artie in triumph. He smiled back at them, dropped the stack of papers in his hand on the desk.
“Looks like we're going to Georgia.”
The drilling and sawing outside would have to continue on without agents to annoy.
--------------------
Once in Georgia, after a plane ride filled with debate about the pros and cons of musical theater, the team split up. Artie headed to the library to browse local newspaper articles while Myka and Pete went off to interview the families and friends of the deceased.
Back in a dark corner of the library Artie sat in front of a microfiche machine slowly turning the crank to view the newspaper articles. So far he'd learned a bit about the three individuals’ successful business ventures to no undue surprise. Beyond that it was fairly boring and he was beginning to think he should have made Myka or Pete do this when his Farnsworth buzzed. Artie flipped open his Farnsworth with a relieved sigh.
“Yeah?”
“So!” Pete’s face filled the screen at slightly too close a view. “Betty, the first girl, was Nancy’s sister! Betty dies, the necklace goes to Nancy. Had a bit of a fight with Betty’s friend about who would get it too, apparently.”
“Skip it, Pete,” Myka said from somewhere Artie couldn’t see.
“Okay, okay, sounded like a good fight though!”
“Got it, Pete,” Artie interrupted.
“Yeah, so, Nancy gets the necklace. Looks like she already knew what it did from Betty, except for the death part.” Pete made a slicing motion across his neck. “Then when she kicked it her husband Brett takes the necklace and when he turns 33, bites it as well. You’d think they would notice the death rate.”
“Apparently not.” Artie took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “So, where does that leave the necklace now?”
“Don’t know yet,” Myka said taking the Farnsworth from Pete. “Brett has two sisters, both live in town so perhaps them. You find anything?”
“Nothing exciting.”
“It is a library.” Pete poked his head into the view of the screen to give Artie a look.
“I should fire you for that.” Myka laughed “Anyway!” Artie picked up his Farnsworth and gathered up the microphish film around him. “Let’s meet up at the first sister’s house.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Pete saluted.
Myka snorted at the same time Artie groaned.
“That's it, I'm banning Star Trek.”
Pete gasped. “No way, Artie! That's like banning Christmas!”
“Good thing I'm Jewish,” Artie said snapping shut his Farnsworth.
-------------------
“A necklace? My brother?”
The three Warehouse employees sat slightly squished together on a white couch across from Ms. Rebecca Shamster.
“Well, it would have been Nancy’s,” Myka amended.
“Though your brother might have worn it,” Pete added, picking up a cookie from the plate on the coffee table between them.
Rebecca gave them a confused look.
Artie sighed and sat forward slightly. “It’s a sort of older style necklace, big jewels on it, can’t miss it.”
Rebecca chewed on her lower lip and shrugged. “I don’t pay much attention to that stuff. It distracts from the real things in life. No need for such gaudy decoration I say.”
Myka and Pete glanced sidelong at each other.
“And I see no reason why my brother would be wearing a necklace of Nancy’s.” She sniffed. “They were so very dear… I do miss…”
“Ms. Shamster.” Artie put his cup of tea down, trying to get her mind off of her dead family members and back to the conversation. “What about their things? Are there still boxes, uh… things in storage, anything?”
“Oh,” She sat up, hands in her lap, “it all went to auction.”
“Auction?” Artie asked.
“Quite.” She smiled.
“Auction.” Myka looked crestfallen.
“Yes,” Rebecca said again, “all their valuables that weren’t some sort of family heirloom.”
“Auction?” Pete chewed slowly.
“Yes.” Rebecca repeated with more emphasis then cleared her throat looking uncomfortable. “We needed… there was no reason to… I mean, with so many possessions and the family…”
“No need to explain Ms. Shamster,” Myka said, a bright cheerful smile suddenly on her face. “Do you have any sort of record of the sales?”
“I’m afraid not. All sales were final and paid.”
“Damn,” Pete grumbled. “No easy stalking.”
Myka kicked his leg.
“Do you remember a sale of any jewelry?” Artie asked hopefully, plainly not looking at the other two.
Rebecca pursed her lips and held up a finger. “A box of jewelry did sell.” Myka, Pete, and Artie all perked up. “I can’t remember who bought it…” They sagged back slightly. “Oh!” Rebecca clapped her hands together once. “It was Helen, Helen Masters. She was a friend of Brett’s I believe.”
Myka whipped out her pad quickly writing the name down.
“Thank you very much, Ms. Shamster. That helps a lot.” Pete grinned. “Wonderful cookies, by the way.”
They stood up with smiles and handshakes then headed to the door.
“If you want to talk to her I’m sure she will be at the party tonight.” Rebecca called from the parlor as they were almost at the front door.
Pete, Artie and Myka stuck their heads back in. “Party?”
“Yes.” She smiled with a girlish sort of expression. “There is a big party at the town hall tonight. Its founder’s day this week and every year there is a party. Helen is the head of the Department of Community Development and Enrichment, just elected two weeks ago in fact.”
“Gaining a personal ambition?” Pete glanced at Artie and Myka as he spoke.
Rebecca laughed. “I suppose you could say that.”
Rebecca stood up and walked over to a stack of newspapers on a side table. Pulling one out of the middle, she scanned the cover then brought it over to them. Artie took the paper from her hand and she pointed to a photo on the over.
“There’s Helen there.” Her finger pointed to a smiling woman in a red suit wearing a familiar ornate necklace. “She’s going to do a wonderful job as department head, I’m sure.”
Artie looked back at Myka and Pete.
“A party sounds delightful,” Myka said, turning to Rebecca. “Any way that visitors to town might be able to find an invite?”
----------------------
Approximately 9:00 PM that evening found Artie and Pete decked out in rented tuxes and Myka in a new black dress attending a certain founder’s day party.
“So, if she knows what the necklace does she should be wearing it.” Artie looked as far as he could down the long entrance hall and into the ballroom across from the front door, scanning for their quarry. “Of course, she might not know yet for sure.”
“Got the picture, Artie.” Pete clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Goal number one, find Helen.”
“We don’t want to be too obtrusive,” Myka said, her secret service training clearly kicking in. “If she knows what it does and sees us coming for her she might make a break for it.”
“If she knows what it does,” Pete emphasized.
“That is the rub.” Artie adjusted his bow tie.
“Well, it’s likely that she’s in the ballroom since she is host to this event so I say we start there.” Myka leisurely pointed to the ballroom, glancing in a smaller side room quickly.
“Great idea. You two go dance,” Artie said.
“What?” They both snapped.
“We need to blend in,” Artie pointed out, “and as you’re so glad to often mention I am a bit out of your age range for dance partners.”
“I’m terrible at following, anyway.” Pete fluttered his eyelashes at Artie.
Artie just raised an eyebrow back at him then went on. “You can cut through the crowd better that way and,” he looked at Myka significantly, “keep a low profile.”
Myka gazed back at Artie then grumbled, “Fine,” and took Pete’s hand.
“Keep your eyes open!”
Myka spared Artie a sarcastic smile then walked toward the ballroom with Pete in tow. Pete flashed Artie an ‘Ok’ sign over his shoulder.
The only other rooms with guests at the event were the buffet room and a volunteer center to one side. A quick check turned up no Helen, so Artie made his way over to the crowed ballroom as well. Gritting his teeth, he stepped into the room.
A throng of guests danced around Artie, laughing, talking, glasses of wine clinking against each other. The room was larger than it had appeared outside and packed to the brim. The whole thing felt far too exposed, too many places to hide, too many people. This was the worst kind of situation for an artifact to be involved in, public with high risk to civilians. For all they knew someone’s ambition to kill those trying to take back the artifact could be easily granted by the necklace. They weren’t sure yet just what the extent of the necklace’s power was.
Artie could see Myka and Pete to his left dancing among the people like just another couple enjoying the night. However, Artie could see their eyes moving in all directions. It was now or never to find Helen for her safety as well as everyone else’s.
Just then, among the crowd a face registered vaguely in Artie’s memory. It was just a flash but he was sure he knew the face.
“Who was…?” It wasn’t Helen he saw. It clicked; it had looked like McPherson.
Suddenly, Artie felt someone close behind him. Panic flashed in his head but before he could react a hand was covering his eyes and everything went silent. Artie twisted away from the hand to face the owner but he already knew who it was.
“James,” Artie all but growled.
James McPherson grinned back at him. “Miss me?”
“One hardly misses someone who blew them up.”
“And yet here you are,” James replied.
Artie just glared back. Around them all the guests stood frozen in place; nothing in the room moved in fact, not a person to breathe or a gust of wind. Artie could see Pete and Myka; Pete frozen looking away from him while Myka’s eyes were almost aligned with him, locked just out of place. In front of him James had one hand raised in the air holding an old leather bound book open to the first page. Looking back to James' face, Artie pointed to the book.
“The Time Machine?”
James nodded a fraction. “Jules Vern.” He laughed quietly then walked toward Artie a step, continuing. “I once recall you denying the existence of this artifact, Arthur. Something about how it was too fantastical even for the Warehouse. I believe I told you fantastical wasn't a word.”
“It is,” Artie replied tersely, stepping back once, keeping the distance between them.
“Regardless of your word use, Arthur, as you can see the artifact does in fact exist,” James swept his free arm around to indicate the motionless crowd, “and works rather well.”
“It certainly does seem like time has stopped...” Artie muttered.
“Except for us,” James replied
Artie balled his hands into fists, “What do you want, James? You didn't go to such elaborate lengths just to talk to me.”
“Oh, Arthur, always all business. 'What do you want?' Maybe I did just want to talk to you... or maybe it's all a game to me,” James said his grin widening in almost a cartoonish fashion. “Perhaps I am the mad villain wanting nothing more than to watch the hero suffer.”
“Does that make me the hero then?”
“The Sherlock to my Moriarty?” James countered stepping to the right.
“Funny that you make yourself the villain, James,” Artie replied, unconsciously circling to the left in response to James' movements. “Feeling some guilt?”
“I know you want me as the villain, Arthur.”
Artie scoffed, “Why would I want that, James? We were always better as partners before - ”
“Before your betrayal.”
Artie pointed a finger, his teeth clenched. “Don't start, this is not about that!”
James shrugged as if the subject was nothing, “Fair enough, Arthur, but you still want me in this part. You want me to be the power hungry villain so you can be the hero struggling on the side of the right.”
“Trying to ascribe archetypes to real life, James?” Artie shot back, still keeping his distance. “Don't you have something more creative in that head of yours?”
“Always the one to challenge my intellect and push me further into greatness, weren't you Arthur?” James replied, his raised hand lowering slightly. “Well, if you insist.”
“Wait!” Arthur shouted, not knowing what James was planning to do.
“Oh, do stop fretting, Arthur,” James said. “I don't plan on killing anyone. Certainly not your precious Bering and Lattimer.”
Artie glanced in their direction. “If you turn those pages....”
“And speed up their time?” James finished for Artie. “I told you I don't plan on killing anyone.”
“Then what do you want?”
“The same thing you do, Arthur.”
Artie cocked his head slightly. “You encased in bronze at the Warehouse?”
“Amusing,” James replied, “but I was thinking more of our present situation.”
James gazed behind him and following his line of sight Artie saw what they'd been looking for all along, the necklace around the neck of Helen Masters, frozen in mid twirl. Artie bit back a curse trying to think of some way to fix the situation, some way to get the artifacts away from James and keep everyone safe. Nothing was coming.
“I am taking the necklace,” James continued beginning to step back slowly. “And as you can certainly see, Arthur, if you try to get in my way or try to chase me I shall flip to the last page and everyone can find out how the story ends.”
“Getting us to do all the work again so you can steal another artifact?”
James gave him a somewhat pitying look. “Let's not squabble over who did what.” He continued to back up toward the necklace away from Artie. “The point is what is happening now.”
“Why do you want this artifact?” Artie was stalling for time. “Have some ambitions you want realized?”
“Oh, Arthur I am sure you can think up any number of uses for an artifact such as this, though I do believe I am past the age limit for my own personal application.”
“James, stop.”
James only grinned at him. “I'm very sorry Arthur.” He had reached Helen now. “But it seems you lose again.”
“Enough games!” Artie took a step forward.
“Ah ah.” James tapped a finger against the page of the book. “Control yourself, Arthur, or more lives shall be lost because of your Warehouse allegiances.”
With his free hand James unclasped the necklace from the frozen woman's neck and slipped it into his pocket. Artie clenched his fists, dying to move, to tackle James, to stop this! James continued to stare at Artie, book held up, as he backed further away through the frozen crowd to one of the glass doors leading outside.
“Farewell, Arthur.” His hand was on the door handle. “I am sure we will meet again soon.”
The book snapped shut and everything came of life around Artie. The music resumed, the people moved and life continued as if it had never stopped. He sprinted into action, zigzagging through the crowd, trying to reach the door James had disappeared through.
“Artie?” He heard Myka call from behind him.
Struggling through the dancing people, Artie finally reached the doors. Yanking them open, he ran out and stopped short on the grass. James was nowhere in sight.
“Artie?” Pete appeared at Artie’s left and Myka at his right. “What happened?”
Artie turned to Pete with a sigh. “McPherson.”
“What?” they both gasped.
“McPherson came and took the necklace.”
“What? I… I didn’t see him.” Myka flung out a hand. “We didn’t see him! How did he…”
“He had The Time Machine, the book, it stops time.”
“Whoa.” Pete put a hand over his mouth.
“How did…”
“If you cover your eyes when the book is first opened you can stay out of time while time stops around you.”
“That’s kind of creepy, Artie,” Pete said.
“I didn’t make the artifact,” Artie snapped back.
“So, that’s it.” Myka moved so she was in front of Artie and Pete. “He just swooped in and took an artifact from us again.” Artie just stared at her. “No way. He can’t just keep doing this!”
“Don’t think I’m not right there with you, Myka, but we’ve seen what this guy can do. I don’t think it’s that simple.” Pete turned to Artie. “Did he say anything?”
Artie laughed without humor. “Oh yeah… He had plenty to say.”
When Artie did not elaborate further Pete sighed and looked at Myka. She was biting her lip and shaking her head.
“What do we do?” Myka asked. “This can’t just be it. We can’t just lose.”
“Oh, it’s not just it.” Artie crossed his arms. “We have to find a way to be better than him.”
Myka nodded resolutely at Artie as Pete smiled confidently. Artie just stared out at the night sky. He would not let James beat him, not again.