Tales of the Shadowmen 1: The Modern Babylon

by Jean-Marc Lofficier

  Gordon was tempted to reply that he had a daughter, but he hadn’t been married to the mother. Furthermore, her late mother had made him promise never to reveal his parentage to her. Instead, Gordon decided to change the topic of conversation.

  “Well, my dear Count, it looks like Leonard has escaped Chinese captivity only to be assaulted by a female blizzard from Hell.”

  Leonard had been able to placate the Chinese delegates by promising to publicly announce that the catalogue contained errors about the Yung-Cheng’s execution device. As soon as the Chinese duo had left satisfied, a Japanese woman in a white kimono accosted Leonard. She was complained that a large wooden baby cart with concealed muskets was a forgery. She screamed that the genuine baby cart had been destroyed in the 18th century.

  “Josephine’s uncle has no luck,” continued Gordon.

  “I am confident that Leonard will sidestep this lady’s thrusts. He is a very slippery eel. You won’t believe the story that he told me in a Bourbon Street bar last night. He was an extremely caring brother.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Leonard just pretended to be the brother of the earlier Countess Cagliostro. This deception permitted the Countess to have another lover who thought that she was his exclusive mistress. Leonard told me all this in confidence recently, but he didn’t mention the name of the other man. When Josephine was born, the Countess then told her deluded lover that he was the father. In truth, Leonard is Josephine’s father. It is very funny, is it not?”

  “Yes, it is,” Gordon acknowledged with a bitter laugh.

  “In fact, Arthur, I heard it stated that Leonard convinced the other man to fund Josephine’s education after she was left destitute following her mother’s death. The poor fool sent her to the Fourneau College, the place where all our old comrades sent their illegitimate daughters. I heard from a Frenchman who visited Ahaggar that this unique learning institution was closed down by the authorities due to a scandal. The principal’s son apparently became overly affectionate with several of her students.”

  “He tried to emulate Casanova, I presume.”

  “I suspect Bluebeard was more the boy’s model. Believe me; you don’t want to know the details.”

  Gordon proceeded to show the Count numerous items from the American West that were being exhibited. These included the knives of Manuel Sanchez, Doc Holliday’s revolver that had been recently found in the Arizona town of Clifton, and a banjo that contained a Winchester rifle inside it.

  Gordon motioned the Count over to a table in which several unusual rifles as well as a large derringer were situated.

  “These weapons, my dear Count, were all the handiwork of my partner, Lee Bailey. I sold them to Gunsight Eyes, a bounty hunter who was one of my best clients. Bailey and I even developed special ammunition for Gunsight Eyes. These were capsules that seem to be bullets, but really were harmless and contained a red liquid that looked like blood.”

  “Why would Gunsight Eyes need those?”

  “He needed to join a circus in order to track down a counterfeiter. The capsules with fake blood were used an act in which he functioned as both a marksman and an illusionist. He and other people pretended to kill each other in the act.

  “Here is another of Bailey’s great creations. This is one of his famous machine guns that were developed years before Hiram Maxim’s. Looking at the serial number that Bailey inscribed on the weapon, I can verify that’s it the one utilized by the Rojos Brothers to ambush Mexican soldiers at Rio Bravo in 1873.”

  “Pardon me, sir, but perhaps you can settle a friendly disagreement between me and another gentleman.”

  The speaker was a tall muscular man with curly black hair. He was dressed in a black suit with a white carnation in his lapel.

  “My name is Washburn. I am the sales representative of Washburn-Peterson Armaments.”

  “I believe that I am familiar with your company,” declared Gordon. “You sell arms throughout the Caribbean. Has business been good?”

  “Yes. We are even branching out into new territories. My brother John, who runs the company with a Swedish partner, is currently filling a rather large African order for a client aptly known as Killer. Countess Cagliostro was invaluable in negotiating the contract. Please allow me to introduce my friend, Monsieur Satanas of Paris.”

  Satanas was a thickset man in his thirties. He wore a monocle over his left eye.

  “My friend, Mr. Washburn, and I were debating about a weapon of similar nature. I am a devotee of the novels of Corbucci. One of his best works was a fictionalized treatment of the real-life outlaw known as the Undertaker. He described such a weapon being employed by the Undertaker in the 1880s. Mr. Washburn insists that the Undertaker’s exploit really happened in the 1870s.”

  Gordon was thoroughly confused.

  “Who the dickens is Corbucci?”

  “Count Corbucci, the late Camorra leader of Naples and a very close friend of our charming hostess. He was a rather ingenious fellow who once rigged a grandfather clock to fire a pistol. His clock is being offered for auction here. He became infatuated with the stories of the American West during an extended visit there in the 1870s. The various gunfights of your country reminded him of the blood feuds in his native Italy. Corbucci loved American dime novels so much that he decided to write them himself. His ambition was to be the Ned Buntline of Italy. Having researched several actual events, he wrote a series of books about the West. Being multi-lingual, he first wrote them in Italian and then translated them into English himself. His stories are incredibly popular in Italy. Foolishly, his American publisher, Pickman and Sons, refused to distribute the English version of Corbucci’s greatest work, Il Grande Massacro, because it had a brutally depressing ending.”

  “I never heard of this Corbucci. I did read a dime novel about the Undertaker by a man named Stanley Corbett.”

  “Stanley Corbett is Corbucci’s pseudonym in America. In Italy, his novels appear under his real name.”

  Gordon then proceeded to elucidate how a gravedigger’s error must have misled Corbucci.

  “That explains everything,” concluded Satanas. “Corbucci did mention to me that he had visited the graveyard in the ghost town where the Undertaker disposed of the remaining members of the Red Scarf Gang.”

  “Being such an aficionado of Corbucci, do you intend to bid on the machine gun?” questioned Count Bielowsky.

  “If the Undertaker had owned this weapon, then I would have been tempted. I am more interested in finding something that could be put to usage in my own business endeavors. I have my eye on a small cannon here that was made by Professor Schultz in his factory at Stahlstadt, Oregon.”

  The group clustered around the machine gun was then joined by a thin young man clad in a white suit with a flamboyant blue scarf. He gave his name as Adam Saxon, and was curious as to where one might purchase a machine that was more portable and lighter than the weapon being auctioned. Washburn began to enunciate various models sold by his brother’s company.

  Gordon was intently listening to this litany of machine guns when he was accosted by another newcomer. The fellow was a tall mustached man in his fifties.

  “Are you the Arthur Gordon who fought for Texas independence in 1836?”

  “Indeed, I am.”

  “I also fought for Texas. I was an 18-year-old lieutenant in the final year of the War Between the States. People now called me Nine Fingers. May I have the pleasure of shaking your hand?”

  As he shook the hand of the Civil War veteran, Gordon noticed that his new acquaintance was missing the top joint of one of his fingers.”

  “I see that you are missing the tip of your trigger finger. You must have difficulty in handling a gun.”

  “There is still enough of my finger left to pull a trigger.”

  “You’re lucky that you weren’t wounded in the thumb. A man can’t hold a gun if he is missing a thumb.”

  Gordon remembered how he had once told the sam
e thing to a young boy that he trained how to shoot.

  “Have you ever been to Utah?” inquired Gordon.

  “Utah? No, why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that I knew a lot of Utah bounty hunters with injured hands. You weren’t ever a bounty hunter?”

  “No, but I was a close personal friend of one of the best bounty hunters that ever lived. I even served with him in the Confederate Army. He was called Gunsight Eyes.”

  “I was also his friend.” Gordon paused for a few seconds. “Wait a second. You aren’t the fellow who lost 5,000 dollars to Gunsight Eyes in a poker game and then skipped town without squaring the debt.”

  “You are confusing me with another man, sir. The Major and I have always been on the best of terms.”

  “Major? Gunsight Eyes was a Colonel.”

  “He was a Colonel when he served in the United States Army before Fort Sumter. During his time in the Confederate army, he only rose to the rank of Major.”

  “I remember now. That’s correct, but he preferred to be called Colonel.”

  “To me, he will always be the Major. Did you know the Major long, Mr. Gordon?”

  “Yes, in fact I sold him his derringer and rifles.”

  “Are you planning to bid on the derringer?”

  “Why would I? I sold it. Why buy it back now?”

  “I am glad to hear that. I intend to bid on that item. It has a sentimental value for me. Since you are such a close friend of the Major, perhaps you could settle a matter of some mystery to me. In 1879, I suddenly stumbled upon the Major in a circus using a very weird alias.”

  “Yes, I know all about that. Let me see. What was the name? Some Spanish name. Wasn’t it Zapata?

  “That’s close enough. Why did the Major change his name?”

  “Gunsight Eyes had a younger sister. While he was off fighting the Yankees, she and her husband were killed by a Mexican bandit known as the Indian. When the War ended, Gunsight Eyes tried to find the Indian. In 1867, he got a lead that took him to Mexico when the Juaristas were about to finally finish off the forces of Maximilian. There was a mercenary fighting with the Juaristas against Maximilian’s forces. This soldier of fortune was named Zapata, but he was also called the Black Indian.”

  “Black Indian? Was he an African?”

  “No, he just had a horrible taste in fashion. He wore the most outlandish black outfit that you could ever imagine. Mistakenly concluding that Zapata was really the man that they were after, old Gunsight Eyes killed him. He was deeply upset when he realized the truth. Years later, Gunsight Eyes would be reminded of his tragic error in judgment.

  “In 1876, there was a corrupt Justice of the Peace in Utah. In partnership with an equally dishonest sheriff, he wanted to get rid of a gun runner who settled there. The man was selling guns to Mormon settlers whose land the two corrupt officials were hoping to steal. The devious pair of officials came up with a plan to frame the gun trafficker for a crime that he didn’t commit. In order to keep their own hands from getting dirty, the duo then opted to trick a famous bounty hunter into killing their enemy. The man that they decided to dupe was Gunsight Eyes. At first, old Gunsight Eyes didn’t suspect a thing. His target had a rather common surname in this country. The name didn’t mean anything to Gunsight Eyes until he viewed his quarry. The wanted man greatly resembled an older man with whom Gunsight Eyes was friendly. It turned out the intended victim was actually the son of the old friend. Gunsight Eyes did some investigating and discovered the truth.

  “That’s why he took the name Zapata. Gunsight Eyes had almost killed an innocent man again. By taking the name Zapata, he was constantly reminding himself never to make that mistake again.”

  “I remember reading a recent scandal about bounty hunters in Utah massacring Mormon settlers,” recalled Nine Fingers.

  “That whole mess was caused by the same Justice of the Peace,” maintained Gordon. “He was able to finally master the art of orchestrating bounty hunters to further his ambitions. The Mormons responded by hiring a gunslinger to kill the bounty hunters. The conflict in Utah’s Snow Hill County in 1898 was nearly as bloody as the Lincoln County war that erupted in New Mexico during 1878.”

  “Well, thank you, for clearing that matter about Gunsight Eyes, Mr. Gordon. Please allow me to take my leave. I have to make some arrangements concerning a poker game that will be held in Dr. Mabuse’s hotel suite tomorrow.”

  When Nine Fingers left, Gordon turned around and suddenly saw Count Bielowsky. The Count had been standing behind Gordon the whole time during the discussion about Gunsight Eyes. The shrewd aristocrat had heard everything.

  “You didn’t trust that mountebank enough to confide in him the whole story, Arthur. Reading between the lines, I can deduce that there’s more to the tale. Gunsight Eyes must have left Utah to warn his old friend that his son was marked for death. Am I right?”

  “Yes, nothing seems to get by you. Of course, the father rushed to his son’s assistance.”

  “Did the father arrive there in time?”

  “No. The sheriff and his partner decided that they had wasted enough time toying with bounty hunters. They personally shot the son and his wife. Both were dead when the father arrived.”

  “But there was another family member.”

  “Yes, there was a grandson. The killers didn’t waste any bullets on him. They just cut his throat. He would have bled to death if his grandfather hadn’t rushed him to a doctor. He lived, but he never spoke again.”

  “That’s… very tragic.”

  “It’s not as tragic as it might have been. As the grandfather told the boy, you don’t need vocal cords to learn how to handle a gun.”

  At the auction, Count Bielowsky purchased the Punjabi wires, but Oliver Haddo beat his bid on Malaki’s six Sumerian statutes.

  Washburn was quite surprised that Gordon spent a substantial amount of money on a Mauser pistol. Such a weapon could be bought for a much cheaper price from Washburn-Peterson Armaments.

  Very late into the evening, Josephine Balsamo invited Gordon as an old family friend to have a drink of rare Amontillado with her and her partners. Both Leonard and Aguirre joined Arthur and Josephine in her office.

  “I must say, Josine, you presided over the auctioning of those items with the grace of an Empress.”

  “In a sense, you are responsible for that talent of mine. I learned how to affect a regal bearing by closely observing the headmistress of the Fourneau College. I owned much of my success in my profession to the training given by that skilled lady.”

  Josephine was totally sincere in her praise. She had learned the fine art of manipulation from the headmistress of the finishing school. Nevertheless, Josephine always resented the indignities that were inflicted on her person in the early phases of the tutelage of the matriarch of the Fourneau College. Josephine succeeded in a diabolical revenge on the headmistress. Josephine’s patron had kept her teen-age son segregated from the female students. Unknown to his mother, Josephine secretly contacted the boy during her last days at the school. She suggested an idea to him regarding the remaining students. Following Josephine’s departure, the boy acted on her advice and brought ruination to his mother.

  “I am curious, Arthur. Why did you buy this Mauser pistol that’s lying on my desk?”

  “You probably know that I sold a lot of Bailey’s weapons to bounty hunters. A lot of those men were my close personal friends. That damn Mute Shootist murdered some of my best clients. I intend to break that pistol with a mallet in order to honor their memory.”

  “Well, sir,” intoned Aguirre in a nice Southern drawl. “There is a piece of information that you might find interesting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m the man who gunned down the Mute Shootist. I set an ambush for him with a few of my friends. I shot him in the head, and then I removed that Mauser from his stinking corpse.”

  “Well, Mr. Aguirre, I think that you and I should shake hands.”
/>
  Aguirre extended his right hand. Gordon seized the Mauser from Josephine’s desk. His first bullet blasted into Aguirre’s right thumb. As Aguirre fell to the ground screaming, the second bullet from the Mauser stuck the thumb on his left hand.

  “You murdered my grandson!” yelled Arthur as he sent his third bullet into Aguirre’s forehead.

  “As for you, Leonard, there is the matter of the unnecessary tuition that I paid to the Fourneau College.”

  Arthur fired the Mauser at Leonard. The Frenchman fell to the ground. His forehead was covered with blood.

  “Josine, you’re just a treacherous tart like your mother.”

  Arthur fired three times at Josephine. Her blouse was covered with red stains. She slumped lifelessly to the floor.

  Another gunshot was suddenly fired. Arthur felt a sharp pain in his right hand and dropped the Mauser. He saw Leonard standing with a revolver. Josephine Balsamo lifted herself up from the floor and picked up the Mauser. Aguirre also rose up and laughed.

  “You all should be dead!” shouted Gordon

  “Have you forgotten the special ammunition that you and Bailey made for Gunsight Eyes?”

  “The fake blood capsules…”

  “Yes, Arthur. We knew all about you relationship to the Mute Shootist.”

  “How?”

  “You may thank the late great Corbucci for that. Satanas told me about your conversation concerning my late friend’s literary effort. His Il Grande Massacro is actually a sensationalized account of your son’s death. It even mentions the mutilation of your grandson.”

  “But why did you let me attend the convention if you knew I wanted to avenge my grandson’s death?”

  “Your arrival here was planned from the beginning. I lured you to this auction.”

  “But I received a letter from Djanko.”

  “A letter that Djanko was prompted to write by the Swede who is co-owner of Washburn-Peterson Armaments, a firm that is indebted to me for their lucrative African deal. If it is any consolation, Djanko was totally unaware that he was being used as a pawn. He really thought that he was helping you take revenge for your grandson’s death.”