Sherlock Holmes: Work Capitol (Fight Card Sherlock Holmes Book 1)

by Jack Tunney

  "You have evidence to support this accusation?" asked I.

  "A lifetime's worth. Now shove off!"

  Holmes wanted to peruse the matter despite the warning, but did not get the chance. Ezekiel Tanner strode in with an entourage, including Peter Hayden, the dwarf – who seemed likely to be trampled by the men hovering around the bigger man. A roar of welcome met his arrival and Tanner's lips stretched like the grin of a serpent.

  "Gents, you've made me fortune this day," roared Tanner, waving his men to clear a booth for his use. "That calls for a drink!"

  "Murdering swine!" Mathews was up like a shot, his chair skidded back to slam against the wall.

  "What's all this?" a voice asked from the crowd.

  Mathews jabbed a thick finger at Tanner. "You, sir! Ezekiel Tanner! I say yer name so there's no mistake. You murdered my brother in cold blood and I will have satisfaction."

  "Now, Mathews. None of that," said Tanner calmly though there was a murderous glint in his eyes. "You've a brother consigned to an earth bath and that's hard. But we can't have you talking like this. Let's drink to him all around."

  "Murderer and coward!" Tanner stepped around our chairs and approached the bar.

  "Have a care, sir." Tanner's smile had become a grimace. "What happened to Nigel Mathews was work capitol, sure, and the perpetrator will receive St. Peter's needle when he's caught. I ask you for the last time, out of respect for your dead brother, to leave me out of it. I'll not pocket more accusations."

  "I call yer a leeching, murdering thief and a liar, Tanner!" roared Mathews. "What say yer to that?"

  Tanner's slammed his meaty palms down on the bar. "That's done it! Blood or beer, sir!"

  A smile like an icicle stretched across the face of Mathews. "It's the ring, then. You and me and no tricks."

  "It's agreed. Name your time, sir."

  "Right this minute! It's all I can do to keep from tearing yer in two where yer standin.'"

  "So be it!" said Tanner with finality. "Back to the Stag, gents!"

  This touched off a whirlwind of activity. A rush for the cloak room to retrieve outer wear and the men pressed for the narrow doorway, each more eager than the last to pile into a coach of train for the ride back to London.

  At the urging of Holmes, we beat a path toward Tanner and Hayden the dwarf.

  "He has seen us with Mathews," whispered Holmes into my ear as we closed. "Let us seize our chance."

  We tumbled out with the rest of the crowd. Every coach had six men fighting to clamber aboard. Turning our gaze this way and that, we saw Tanner, Hayden, and two men hurrying along the snowy walk and sprang forward to intercept them before they reached the train.

  "Ezekiel Tanner, a moment!" called Holmes when we were within earshot.

  Tanner's men whirled around first, their hands buried in the folds of their coats while they looked us over. We slowed our pace and approached open-handed.

  Before introductions could be made, Hayden had the attention of the massive man, the dwarf’s tiny hand exerting pressure on Tanner’s thick forearm. "This be the gennelman what set me right last night."

  The large man paused, his massive shoulders relaxed as he looked us over. His face was fleshy, red in the cold, the scars from his time in the ring white against his livid countenance. His flat nose worked like that of a bull and his breath streamed from his nostrils. He moistened his thick lips, then stuck out a broad, flat palm towards me. "Cool this! Do me the honour, sir, of allowing me to shake the hand of a fine crow. Petey's right as rain thanks to yer doctorin' smarts."

  I gave him my name, expressed my thanks for his praise and relief that Hayden was doing well.

  "Your coat, sir," said I to Tanner. I handed over the garment I’d been carrying with a quick word of explanation and gratitude. Tanner accepted it eagerly, discretely fanning the pockets. I recalled the roll of notes left behind at the urging of Holmes, but held my tongue.

  Holmes stepped forward, hand extended. "Sherlock Holmes," said he, "Pugilist. And I'll wager you've scratched a time or two yourself."

  "I'd surely lose that wager, Mr. Holmes." Tanner shook my friend's hand with considerable energy, yet there was little warmth behind it. "Those days are over for me, but you've hit the nail on the head as to my sordid past, you have. I saw you last night. Outclassed but undaunted. Well presented."

  "You flatter me," said Holmes.

  The commotion around us intensified as carriages clattered down from the palace. Seeing this Tanner's lips twisted in a wide imitation of a grin and he clapped his meaty hands with finality and expectation.

  "Duty calls!" Tanner exchanged a quick glance with Hayden before saying to us, "Ride with me, won't you?" His manner was expansive and welcoming, but his grey eyes were cold.

  His head was too small for his muscled body and had a brutish countenance "There's business to take care of at the Stag, you don't want to miss. It will be of particular interest to you, Mr. Holmes. I promise you a ream gaff. Afterwards, if you fine sorts are willing, we'll put our noses in the manger then have a palaver as we have business of our own to sort out."

  Holmes accepted readily and we climbed into a sparsely occupied rail coach. With Hayden leading, we followed Tanner up the short stairs. His two men brought up the rear, and I could not help but think Tanner's invitation had been mere formality.

  The train filled quickly, belched steam, and began to roll. Last aboard were two inspectors Holmes and I spotted straight off. It was evident Tanner was aware of them as well.

  We settled into our seats across from Tanner and Hayden.

  "Will you not be hindered by your years away from the ring?" asked Holmes, keeping his voice at a normal tone. The inspectors were out of earshot, content to keep watch over Tanner and his men from a distance.

  "I'm always game for a scratch," replied Tanner. "Sooner the better, I says. The Bald-faced Stag's a bone gattering and I won't pocket any ill-wind directed at it. Mathews had his say and now he'll answer for it. Such is how I handle those who don't get along. I trust I have made meself clear on this matter."

  "I believe I understand you," said Holmes.

  "Excellent. This will aid our business once I'm done with Tanner. Mark me, I'm in a fightin' mood after the shenanigans of last night. My man beaten to within an inch of his life, the premises torn down. If I was certain of the men what done it, I'd do a deswskitch on 'im they'd not likely forget."

  "Perhaps Mathews has evidence that will shed light on the matter. I'm certain there's more going on here than has been brought to light."

  "Look at you," said Tanner. "Talking like one of those dicks by the door. There's not a shred against me. I was at the fight, handling the wagering as anyone who was there surely knows."

  "I recall you being there," I confirmed.

  "There you have it," said Tanner.

  "Surely Mathews must know your presence at the McMurdo benefit can be confirmed."

  "I don't know what he knows or don't know."

  "Do you accuse him of attacking your barman and destroying the Stag?"

  Tanner became indignant. "I do not. That was bloodthirsty vandals kicked off that jolly. Petey remembers four of 'em. Bent on robbing most like, but something scared them off."

  "That's right, four of 'em," said Hayden. "Cruel as the devil they was. They'll get what's comin' to 'im."

  "Nothing was taken?" asked Holmes.

  Tanner gave Holmes a sidelong glance. "What's it to you, Holmes? You were there that night or you wouldn't have had my coat. In the Chapel that would be enough to get you your gargler sliced. I'm a man who likes to keep what's his."

  "This isn't Whitechapel," replied Holmes. "My question is born of curiosity. When my friend handed you the coat, you felt at the pockets as though in search of something."

  Tanner's eyes glinted. "And what might that have been?"

  "I could not hazard a guess, thus my question. I should hate to be accused of common thievery. My associate and I are int
erested in honest gain for the most part. However, one must keep one's eyes open for opportunities."

  "You a gonoph? No, you're not built for petty work. I see you maybe as a blower. What say you to that?"

  The conversation had entered dangerous waters. There's was no greater insult in criminal circles that to be accused of informing for the police. Holmes took the insult in stride.

  "I'd be inclined to take you to task for it," said he, his gaze flicked to the two officers. "However as you are already engaged this evening. Perhaps another time. That is, if nothing should happen to prevent your participation."

  "It will be my pleasure," said Tanner.

  "What did you think of the bout yesterday?" asked Holmes, as if the previous exchange with its barley veiled threat had not taken place.

  "There's some steel in you, but it ain't been through the fire."

  "Your eye is keen, sir," said Holmes. "I seek to advance in the sweet science."

  "It can be done. I worked the carnival boxing booths until I was too good for it. Mind your place and you'll live enough years to try it."

  Holmes let this second insult pass without comment. His appearing cowed had loosened Tanner's lips.

  "Was it during your time with the carnival circuit that you met Mr. Hayden?" Holmes held up a restraining hand to forestall Tanner's protest of the intrusive query. "As you say, we have business awaiting us and I like to know who I am dealing with. One's past shapes one's present, I've always held."

  "I begin to like you, Holmes," admitted Tanner. "You are direct. In the ring, as in life, the only way is straight ahead. You strike me as a man I can deal with. To answer your question, it was. Once I'd enough for the Stag I quit the circuit and took Petey with me. When you go by the ground as he does, well, such a man needs someone in his corner for life."

  The train reached the station and Tanner had a coach waiting to cover the short distance between the station and the pub. Outside the station, I saw Hayden run his hand across the top of his bulbous head in the manner of someone smoothing his hair. I recognized it as a subtle signal.

  Instantly, the two officers behind us were surrounded by street beggars who barred their way as we climbed into the coach. I immediately saw the implications of this and put my hand on the revolver in my coat pocket. Tanner and his men saw my gesture, mirroring the action as the last of the waning sunlight bathed the cab.

  "Looks as if the night will be a clear and cold one," said Holmes. "Let us all relax and enjoy the dying of the light, yes?"

  "Indeed," said Tanner, crossing his arms. "Time for fun and games later."

  The tension in the coach eased noticeably.

  It was full dark when we arrived at the Bald-faced Stag. We stepped down and the cold gnawed at us. Our destination was a small warehouse behind the pub. Tanner seemed unaffected by the bitter cold and smiled jovially as he beckoned us to follow him around back.

  "Come along, smartly now," said he, his eagerness could not be concealed. "Heat for the limbs and a fire for the belly lay within these walls. A shred of spectacle thrown into the bargain as well. The Law would have us for it now, but there was a time when men were free to settle their affairs."

  We entered the musty, rectangular room to find it piled high with crates. Tanner's men set to work moving crates aside as men continued to enter from the cabs and carriages pulling up. Gradually the wooden surface of a boxing ring appeared on the dusty floor. It appeared to conform to the specific dimensions of twenty-four feet square though it lacked posts and ropes. These appeared in the arms of Hayden who passed them to a pair of workmen who set about placing them and I could see by the easy placement of them that the ropes were intended to be removed just as quickly and spirited away should the police appear on the scene.

  The rest of the work party skillfully arranged the crates into makeshift stands from which everyone was to view the fight. The singular arrangement of the ring puzzled me. It did not align with the dimensions of the room but, rather, was at an angle, presenting us with a diamond shape from where Holmes and I stood with the far corner nestled in shadow. Candles burned from every surface and the air took on the quality of a church on All Saints' Day. The steady stream of men diminished and murmurs became rumbles of expectation. The room could seat fifty persons, but only half of that number were present.

  "Get spots right up close," said Tanner as he slipped out of his coat. "There will be no delay. Petey!" he called over his shoulder. "Reeb for these two thirsty garglers! Let's get on with it then!"

  He left us to proceed ringside, shedding garments until he stood bare-chested in his britches. Holmes indicated Mathews at the opposite corner, removing his clothing in a similar fashion. His movements seemed a trifle unsure.

  "Do you think him addled by drink?" asked I.

  "Possibly," replied Holmes. "The motive for this fight is the real issue."

  Tanner and Mathews stepped through the ropes and approached the scratch line. No standing on ceremony here, the two toed the line, then began to box in earnest.

  Mathews's uncertainty continued to manifest itself, though he lead off smartly. Two jabs aimed at the midsection of Tanner were turned aside, but a third landed squarely on the right cheek of his opponent.

  Tanner did not counter despite openings even I could see. Scowling, he kept pressing Mathews who glided from side to side, launching punches driven as much by anger as by muscle and sinew.

  Tanner's head snapped back from a stout jab to his flat nose. He countered to the torso and Mathews had bellows to mend and, gasping, had no alternative but to break ground.

  A quick exchange followed with Mathews receiving the worst of it. His right eye began to swell from a cross-hit. Tanner turned Mathews around the ring, not giving him a chance to regain his breath.

  "Tanner seeks to herd Mathews into that far corner," observed Holmes. "A singular development. Tanner is a showman, yet he is trying to fight far from the crowd."

  Mathews found his breath and unleashed a flurry of blows so quickly that most landed and Tanner was staggered. Tanner was a big man, aptly built to take such punishment and did little to defend himself. A cruel grin pulled his swelling lips apart.

  Tanner followed up by letting loose every punch he had. He did so with a strange, mechanical regularity, as if he were sparring to master his technique and timing. His attack seemed devoid of all emotion, a methodical delivery as if before a classroom. It lasted mere seconds, but drove Mathews into that far corner where Tanner eventually pinned the man tight against the ropes. Mathews covered as best he could, braced tight against the ring post for support.

  The crowd roared as the fight now looked as if it would not see a second scratch.

  Tanner had boxed his way through his opponent's defenses. Blow after blow thudded into the bloody face and body of Mathews. The man's movements became sluggish and he seemed unable to stand let alone defend himself.

  "This must be stopped!" I hissed at Holmes, and began to rise from my seat.

  Holmes placed a restraining hand on my shoulder, his voice anguished. "Too late!"

  I moved to shake off his hand as the crowd rose to its feet in its bloodlust. Holmes followed this action. When we were both standing, he leaned in and whispered. "Do nothing!"

  Mathews was being battered senseless. Tanner drove fists into the man's face and throat. Arms dangling at his sides, fist open, Mathews stood immobile as the punches landed with devastating effect.

  Every ounce of my spirit as a medical man urged me to intervene. It is a testament to my confidence in my friend's judgment that I yielded to his insistence. This was no easy thing and I glared at Holmes while I held my place. Sherlock Holmes was not often wrong, but if he were in this matter, the result would be grievous.

  The inevitable transpired. Following a thunderous shot to the throat, Mathews collapsed in a heap in the corner. Tanner stepped back and turned to the crowd, his hands raised in victory while the crowd, ignorant as to the extent of the beating be
gan heartily counting down from ten as Mathews lay unmoving.

  The bout was over and nothing short of a bullet would restrain me now. The crowd, small though it was, milled about, heading in every direction at once, yelling excitedly. My impulse was to join the men as they dragged Mathews from the ring and I pushed my way through the crowd. Quick examination confirmed my fear. Fred Mathews was beyond the aid I, or any other doctor, could render. I left the men and rejoined Holmes. At that moment I could not speak to him.

  Holmes shot a quick look at the broad back of Tanner as he towered over the surge of humanity herding him to the courtyard door leading to the Bald-faced Stag. Tanner looked sharply over his shoulder to ensure we were amidst this entourage. He saw us as his men bore him into the pub. Seeing we were unobserved for an instant, Holmes guided me behind a stack of crates nestled in shadows and it was here we remained as the room emptied.

  "There was nothing you could have done to save him," said Holmes with feeling minutes later when we were alone in the room.

  "Damn you! You don't know that."

  "I know it for a certainty." He stood and glared down at me. "Follow if you have ears to hear."

  Holmes quitted our place of concealment. I confess to a moment of indecision, but a burning curiosity could not be denied.

  I stepped out to find Holmes stepping lithely through the ropes to pace about the boxing ring. The sound of revelry dimly reached our ears as Tanner's victory was being celebrated. I thought of the cold corpse Hayden and the others had carted through that same door.

  "The ropes, Watson," said Holmes. "They are the first indicators – the implications of which we will soon fathom."

  The strands in question were old, blackened from much handling, desiccated and frayed.

  "These are the ropes one finds around anywhere in London," I said, still much irked.

  "Seemingly,” Holmes said. "But they have secrets. Observe the weave." He stepped forward and took the rope in his fist. "Chatham hemp. Two-inches in diameter. Made from hemp found in the Sativa plant native to Asia. Hand-combed fibres. Chatham has employed machines to do this for twenty years now. All decry a seafaring origin." He snatched up a heavily creased section of the rope. "Look! Buntline Hitch." He displayed a second set of creases. "Alpine Butterfly Loop." A third section he showed to me. "Rat-tail Stopper. These leave no doubt and are significant."