by John Gardner
Crow was about to turn the girl away – as he had done many times since their nightly peregrinations – when Holmes stayed his hand.
‘You may well be able to assist us, dear lady,’ Holmes addressed the girl with unaccustomed charm. ‘We are making enquiries regarding an American friend of whom we have lost sight. We are aware that he was certainly enjoying himself in these night haunts of your city early in the year. I wonder if you set eyes on him. If not you, then your friends.’
‘There are many American gentlemen who pass this way, Monsieur,’ the girl replied. ‘I have not got time to discuss them in the streets. I am here to make money.’
‘You will not lose by it,’ declared Holmes pulling some silver from his pocket. ‘Let me describe this particular man to you.’
The girl grabbed hungrily at the coins, listening intently as Holmes drew a concise word picture of the stout, red-faced Morningdale.
‘Salaud,’ the girl mouthed. ‘I recall that one. He threw me into the gutter. Almost broke my arm.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Holmes fastened her with his eyes, which, Crow observed, were not as clear as usual.
The girl told of the night that she had approached the American, and of his threats.
‘He was a strange one,’ she said. ‘He could speak our language well – the argot if you know what I mean.’
Holmes nodded.
The girl gestured in the direction of the Moulin Rouge. ‘He had been in there, talking to Suzanne the Gypsy. One of the waiters is a good friend, he told me that they talked together for some time.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘She went off with his friend.’
‘Who? This Suzanne?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And where shall we find her?’
‘Anywhere.’ She spread her arms wide. ‘Suzanne is a law to herself. I have not seen her for two, maybe three, weeks.’
‘First thing in the morning we must begin our search for Suzanne the Gypsy,’ Holmes counselled when they were back at the Crillon. ‘The trail grows warm, Crow. She spoke to the man, and I should imagine that she is the kind of woman whose tongue will be set running with a small financial reward. As you have seen, it is now time for bribery.’
But on the next morning, Crow was disturbed to find Holmes in a dispirited mood. He did not rise at his usual hour and appeared to be in great turmoil, sweating profusely and in a kind of agony which racked his body at frequent intervals.
‘I fear that I shall have to return to London,’ the great detective said weakly. ‘This is what I dread, and it is the reason for Moore Agar advising rest in congenial surroundings. I fear there is now only one place where I can obtain the medicine which will arrest this state; and that is in London. Crow, you will have to continue without me, find this Suzanne and speak with her. You still have time before you are due back at Scotland Yard. I shall catch the next train to Calais.’
It was with a heavy heart that Crow saw the detective onto the train, before returning, alone, to the quest.
During the weeks that had passed since Moriarty had acquired the buildings at Bermondsey, much had been done in the way of refurbishing. Even since Schleifstein had become their first guest in this hideout, groups of family men – mainly cracksmen and sneak thieves who posed as builders, decorators and painters – had moved in to enlarge the premises, and make them more comfortable and safe from any person who might take an interest from the wider, and more law-abiding, world outside.
Pleasant alternative quarters had been furnished for Moriarty himself, and the main members of his Praetorian Guard, not to mention a large dormitory for transient family people; rooms for storing goods, lock-ups and, in fact, many of the amenities which they had so relied upon a few years before in the converted warehouse hard by the docks near Limehouse.
Bridget Spear, with only a few weeks to go before her confinement, had been moved into one of Sal Hodges’ properties, together with a midwife to see that all went well. Sal Hodges, herself now like ‘a galleon in full sail’, as she described it, would use the same room and midwife when her time came.
Martha Pearson, who had well proved herself about the Albert Square house, had now taken over Bridget Spear’s duties – with the help of a skivvy brought in by Bert Spear – while little Polly, still constantly in raptures over the handsome Harry Allen, was, on the Professor’s orders, instructed on all necessary matters and appointed as housekeeper and cook at the Bermondsey lair – Allen himself having also moved there.
Carlotta had disappeared from Moriarty’s immediate circle once Sanzionare had been brought in, leaving to earn exceptional money at Sal Hodges’ second house, where she was appointed madam.
During the last week in April, word was received from Segorbe, in far off Spain, that he would be arriving in London on 2 May, and would be pleased to meet Grisombre, Schleifstein and Sanzionare at their own convenience. He had rooms reserved for him at a small hotel off Upper George Street, not far from the site of Old Tyburn where so many a villain had met his end.
It fell out that, on the afternoon of Tuesday, 27 April, Moriarty called together a conclave at Bermondsey. The three reconverted continental leaders were there, together with the few attendants they had retained. Of Moriarty’s people, Spear, Lee Chow, the Jacobs brothers, Terremant and Harry Allen joined the group.
The Professor spoke for some time on the plans he already envisaged for the new alliance, and went on to speak of Segorbe’s visit.
‘I do not intend to waste my time with him,’ he said, darkly. ‘We all know of his power in Madrid, and what he can offer us by way of contribution. I consider it best if we do not bring him down here to Bermondsey immediately, so I would suggest we meet with him at a place I have already appointed – a flash house at the corner of South Wharf Road and Praed Street, up near the Great Western Railway Terminus at Paddington. We can speak fairly with him. You gentlemen,’ he indicated the three continentals, ‘can bear me out. I think there is little doubt in your minds as to whether I am a fit person to lead this union or not. Any dissension which may still linger in his mind, because of past happenings, will soon be dispelled. I see no difficulties.’
Later, alone with Spear, Lee Chow and Terremant, he made further plans.
‘It is best to be safe,’ he looked gravely at Terremant. ‘You still have the device we held in reserve for Sanzionare?’
‘All in working order, Professor.’
‘Good. You will bring the Spaniard to our meeting, and take him away. If it is necessary …’
‘All will be done.’ Terremant grinned. ‘It will not be a case of merely singeing this king of Spain’s beard.’
‘And you, Lee Chow,’ the Professor turned to the small Chinaman. ‘We have kept you secure and close since the unfortunate death of old Bolton. Now you must be abroad again. I am within sight of my goal. Once more the broad spectrum of European crime is about to come under my overall leadership. We can only move forward from now on. But I am determined, before we proceed, to settle with Holmes once and for all.’
‘You want me to …?’ began Spear.
Moriarty’s face shrank into a pained expression. ‘Spear, have you not learned from me in the past weeks? Have I not taught you how much better it is to move with cunning? To bring men down through their own weaknesses rather than with the pistol, knife or bludgeon? Certainly it can only be accomplished in the cruder manner with the more rough and ready of our rank and file, or with enemies who can understand only the methods of violence. For Holmes I have a better kind of death. Social ostracism, a complete loss of face. Lee Chow will understand. You have a particular leaning towards these methods in your native land, have you not?’
Lee Chow grinned his evil yellow smile and bobbed his head up and down like a Buddha.
‘It is time, Lee Chow. Go and remove that which Holmes most needs. It is quite like old times. You remember when we did it before the Reichenbach fiasco?’
Spear laughed. ‘I think I follow you n
ow, sir.’
‘A small turn of the screw.’ Moriarty did not smile. ‘It is also time to bring in our old friends Ember, and the lurker known as Bob the Nob. They’ll bring one of Mr Meddling Holmes’ friends with them. And with her in London, I think I can lead a dance in the West End that will ruin the reputation of that, so-called, great detective.’
Within the hour a telegraph had been dispatched to Ember who was still watching the lady known as Irene Adler, in Annecy. The telegraph read – BRING THE EAGLE HOME.
Lee Chow entered Charles Bignall’s chemist’s shop just as it was closing in the same evening. He noted with satisfaction the sudden look of mingled fear and concern which spread, like a stain, across the man’s face.
The Chinese stood back, holding the door for a departing lady customer who smiled in haughty thanks.
‘Another dose of opium? Or perhaps laudanum to keep her happy?’ asked Lee Chow as he closed the door and slid the bolts in place.
‘What do you want?’ Bignall did not disguise his revulsion for the Chinese.
‘You thought you get rid of me? You thought you not see me again, Mr Bignall?’
‘Your friends are bad enough without having you here. I’ve done everything as instructed.’
‘Oh, I quite aware of that, Mr Bignall.’ He still pronounced it as two separate words. ‘You would have known pretty damn quick if that had not been so. I come in person with the special message. You remember? The one we spoke about last time we meet?’
‘I remember.’
‘Good. That ver’ good, Mr Bignall. So you do it now. Our mutual frien’ Mr Sherlock Holmes, to whom you supply cocaine. When he come nex’ time, you tell him it no more possible.’
‘Have you people no mercy? Cannot I let him have even a few grains? Why, the man will suffer agonies.’
‘Not even speck. No cocaine for Mr Holmes. I know if you disobey, and his dear frien’, the Dr Watson, has closed all his other sources of supply. Yes, poor Sherlock Holmes will be in pretty pickle. If he not, Mr Bignall, then I promise that you will be hung by thumbs and flayed alive. That no idle threat. I mean what I say. I done it to others.’
‘You swine,’ mouthed the chemist. ‘You utter swine.’
Lee Chow grimaced and made a small grunting noise. ‘See to it, Mr Bignall. See to it.’
Esteban Segorbe usually travelled alone. His control over the darker populace of his sunny area of the continent was so complete, so total, that he had little to fear from any man. Soberly dressed, short and almost nondescript in appearance, Segorbe was always one to be reckoned with. He was the least well-known of Moriarty’s former allies, except for the fact that the man was ruthless and single-minded when set upon a venture. The Professor also had plenty of evidence that the Spaniard earned himself a truly vast sum of money each year from the many criminal activities in which he was concerned.
Watched as ever, by the unseen lurkers, Segorbe arrived at his small unprepossessing hotel soon after eight on the evening of Sunday, 2 May, just as the many families who lived in the vicinity of Upper George Street were returning from Evening Prayer.
Half an hour later, a note was delivered, via the hall porter, telling him that the three other continental criminals would see him at two o’clock on the following afternoon, and that a hansom cab would call for him, a quarter of an hour before the appointed time, to take him to the rendezvous.
Segorbe nodded and told the man there would be no reply. Since 1894, and Moriarty’s rout from the alliance, Segorbe had done small, but lucrative, pieces of business with all three of the men he was here to meet. He had no reason to think that his presence this time would end in any other way but financial gain. He retired early, but did not turn out the lamp before completing a summary of the day’s cost in the small accounts book he always kept by him. Esteban Segorbe was a man full of avarice. He hoped that the visit would soon start to show a profit.
At a quarter of an hour before two o’clock on the following afternoon, Segorbe was ready and waiting for the cab, which arrived promptly with Terremant in the cabby’s little perched seat at the rear.
Terremant climbed down and, treating the Spanish visitor with great deference, assisted him into the cab before returning to his seat and whipping up the horse in the direction of the Edgware Road.
South Wharf Road ran – as it still does – diagonally between Praed Street and the Great Western Terminus at Paddington, and was so called because it backed directly onto the Paddington basin of the Grand Junction Canal. Its houses were drab, full, for the most part, with loaders, bargees, and men from the railway company. It was not a street in which one lived permanently, but rather through which one passed; the flash house which the Professor had marked down as a meeting place being a favourite haunt of small fences, dragsmen, who stole from carriages and cabs, and those who preyed upon the canal cargoes, not to mention the dippers who worked the crowds at the railway station.
On the previous afternoon, the owner of this seedy limbo – one Davey Tester – had received a visit from Bert Spear. Money changed hands, and, at midday on the Monday, the owner had passed the word that he was closing shop for the rest of the day.
At one o’clock, four of Terremant’s punishers arrived, to make certain that no villain remained within the confines of this small five-roomed hostelry. Unseen outside, the lurkers gathered, placing themselves at vantage points in doorways and other nearby buildings, for the house in question was set in a perfect position, with a clear view down both South Wharf Road and Praed Street, as far as the railway station.
A little before a quarter to two, a pair of coaches came up from the Edgware Road, four punishers leaping onto the pavement before the horses had drawn to a halt, to see the way was clear. Only when they were certain that all was well did they allow the pasengers to alight and move quickly into the building.
At the Tyburn end of the Edgware Road, Harkness slowly edged the Professor’s private hansom forward through the tightly-packed traffic. Ahead of him he could see Terremant turning his cab from Upper George Street across the flow of cabs and omnibuses, and into the stream moving up towards Paddington. Moriarty spotted it as well, from the back of the cab, and nodded contentedly. Segorbe would be won over within the hour.
Promptly at two o’clock, Terremant’s cab drew up in front of the house at the top of South Wharf Road, and Segorbe was ushered inside. The punishers guarded the doors. Five minutes later, Harkness brought the Professor’s cab to a halt and Terremant, who was waiting by his horse, hurried forward to assist the Professor.
Inside, in the small narrow room which served as a parlour, the four continentals greeted one another with the kind of reserve that criminals the world over use when meeting afresh after a long absence.
They were just taking their places, around a rough wooden table, when the Professor came quietly into the room. Segorbe’s back was to the door and he turned in quick surprise at Moriarty’s greeting.
‘Good cheer, Esteban. I am glad you could come.’
The Spaniard’s hand flashed towards his belt as he turned, the Toledo steel dagger half out by the time Schleifstein clamped his wrist.
‘There is no need for that, Esteban,’ smiled Moriarty. ‘We are all good friends here. Just like it was in ’94 when we first formed the alliance.’
‘You resigned from the alliance,’ Esteban Segorbe said with a slight intake of breath, his eyes showing a tiny gleam of disquiet.
‘No, I was forced to resign. I now wish things to return to their status quo.’
Segorbe looked around, searching the faces of the other leaders.
‘He failed. We agreed that failure in a leader could not be overlooked.’
‘You chose no new leader, my friend.’ Moriarty’s smile remained fixed. There was little warmth in it.
‘We met,’ Segorbe was equally cool. ‘We met and discussed the entire project. Our decision was unanimous.’
‘There was no decision.’ The Professor’s lip
curled in anger. ‘All that happened was that you occasionally did one another a service. You allowed the situation here in London – one of the great criminal capitals of the world – to fall into pieces. It was a free territory. I do not know about you, Segorbe, but at least Grisombre and Schleifstein poached on my London preserves. My offer now is simple. That we return to our former alliance, with me at the head. I have proved myself. Ask them.’
‘He made ninnies of us all. It’s true enough.’ Grisombre spoke without anger or emotion.
Schleifstein sighed, ‘There is no answer to the Professor, Esteban. He trapped each of us at our own game, and he has put the most dangerous detective in the Metropolitan Police Force out of action. Discredited.’
‘Together we can prosper as never before,’ Sanzionare nodded.
Segorbe was not convinced.
‘You remember our former schemes?’ Moriarty came over to the table, taking his seat at the head. ‘I counselled you all that we could work together for chaos in Europe. Through chaos our aims would be more easily obtained. And do not forget my other warning. The police forces of the world are daily becoming more efficient. We can best combat this in the alliance.’
Segorbe did not speak for a full minute. ‘Gentlemen, I have my own society in Spain. The police do not bother me over much and all my people make a good living. They are content. It is true that there has been some profit in working together, but I do not altogether trust your motives, Professor Moriarty. I am not certain that the criminal population of Europe united under your overall leadership is necessarily a good thing. In the long term it means a common sharing, a common market place if you like. Countries go through varying periods of prosperity and poverty. My feeling is – on due reflection – that the more impoverished a country is, the more it might have to give away in the common cause.’ He made a gesture of some eloquence with both hands. ‘It could be that the more wealthy countries would simply become increasingly wealthy on the plunder of their poor relations. The poor relations might even go to the wall.’
