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

by Jack Tunney

  ELEVENTH SCRATCH

  We stepped out into a frozen wasteland. A gale clutched at our hats and we barely managed to keep them on our heads. The air was a wall of white flakes moving in every direction at once. We could not see the opposite side of the street as we stood ankle deep in snow, bracing against the wind.

  "We'll never get anywhere in this!" said I to Holmes as he looked up the street for a coach.

  Holmes pointed out a trio of children at play wrapped like Eskimos. "If they can manage it, so shall we."

  The intensity of the storm aided us in finding a transport for almost no one was about it the horrendous conditions. The first coach we came upon was not in use and the driver happily accepted our custom. Holmes gave the address and we began the long crawl eastward to the London Docks. Had walking been possible in the tempest, we might have made better time. Instead a journey of forty-five minutes took us more than two hours as the coach crawled across the snowy roads, encountering bogged down traffic at every turn. Holmes beat his fist in frustration against the wall of the coach and the hooded, haunted look in his eyes forbade conversation.

  When at last we reached our destination, Holmes bounded from the coach while I paid the man and accepted his wishes for the season. As we had alighted at Pennington Street, the Tobacco Dock was our first stop and I caught Holmes up as he was at the door.

  The wind howled bitingly off the Thames and the rigging of the docked vessels sang as men moved about hunched over into the storm. Inside Holmes inquired as to the location of the offices for the import concern owned by Mathews. These were in the Eastern Dock, so we knocked the snow from our hats and went there through the connecting passageway.

  The booking office was quiet as a tomb. A combination of the storm and the festive nature of the day had contributed to the absence of customers.

  "Good, Watson, we shall make up for lost time," observed Holmes as we strode to the service window.

  This prediction proved correct. Holmes asked the short, thin agent about the evening's sailings.

  "Only Pegasus leaving today. It has cargo that must be off to America as soon as possible," came the grunted reply. "Nothin' tomorrow. It's Christmas, fer the love a Mike!"

  The delight Holmes expressed at this news was a splendid bit of acting if one was familiar with his normally reserved nature. Tonnage was bandied about and we learned Pegasus sailed at six. It was almost two.

  The man, his name was Hight, had the departure log in front of him by this time. The page was open on the Pegasus entry, as Holmes assured the man that our cargo was being unloaded at that moment and only a ship was needed.

  "My that is an interesting stickpin," said Holmes as he eyed it appreciatively. He leaned across the counter to better examine it. "If I may be so bold. That is Lord Nelson, is it not? Amethyst-coloured paste for the face to be sure, but that is eighteen carat gold for the uniform trimmings. My word, excellent."

  While Hight expressed his gratitude for the praise of his adornment, Holmes humbly inclined his head as he leaned over the counter. Final arrangements were made, our cargo would have to be looked over, and Holmes promised the man we would return presently with the paperwork for his inspection.

  Once out of the man's sight, Holmes attempted a full sprint, dodging around the workers moving about.

  "What the devil, Holmes!" I managed as I struggled to keep pace.

  "Time is now our enemy," said he. "We must make all haste to the Bald-faced Stag!"

  We were outside once more, the wind whipping about our legs, snow tangling in our lashes.

  "By coach, it'll be boxing day before we reach our destination," said Holmes in a half shout over the wind. "It must be a tram or all is lost. Come!"

  We lost several minutes stamping up one avenue and the next in search of transport. As a tram appeared before us out of the snow, I noticed the toll the running had taken on the ankle and knee of Holmes. His blood was up, his colour high, but he limped noticeably as he we climbed aboard.

  "You'll be crippled for life at this rate," said I as the tram got underway. "Sit down and get the weight off that leg."

  Holmes laughed at this. I did not know what he thought was so amusing. We found seats and Holmes dove into the one at the window to stare sullenly out at the enshrouded city all the way to Camden Town. We alighted four blocks from the Bald-faced Stag. The snow seemed to be falling with even greater force which rendered a cab a useless proposition so we set off on foot.

  The tram had made excellent time with the utter absence of pedestrians and, for the most part, cabs, omnibuses and waggons. This had calmed Holmes enough that he gave his leg some rest with the regular walking pace he set. In no time at all we reached the pub.

  Under better circumstances, the warm, moist air wafting over us as we entered would have been welcome relief from the icy conditions of the street. Instead, stepping into the Bald-faced Stag was like stepping through the gates of Hell.

  The air was fetid, close, oppressive. Through the haze of tobacco smoke, ruddy, half-obscured faces glared at us in the midst of their drunken revelry. The pub was full to capacity and those tables put back into use since the vandalism supported the hard, worn elbows of the drinkers leaning against them.

  A blaze roared in the hearth, signs of repair work temporarily set aside were visible throughout. Tanner was at the bar, serving with both hands while Hayden moved about collecting empty glasses and replacing them with those foamed to the brim. Next to the bar an accordion protested its misuse at hands better suited to other work.

  Tanner turned eyes as cold as a snake's to us and, looking us over, smiled his lizard's grin. "Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson!" said he with mock jocularity. "Come to celebrate the season with us?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two rough sorts rise up from their seats in the shadows at the sound of our names and make their way nonchalantly behind us, undoubtedly to block our retreat.

  Holmes sprang into action.

  "I'll not drink with such as you!" he bellowed above the din. "Cowardly, coopered blackguards who play the crooked cross turn my stomach!"

  Tanner's grin froze on his face and he blanched. "Come now, Holmes. Have a caution."

  "Or else what? You shall attempt to run us down in the street – again!"

  This silenced the pub. Holmes drove the thorn deep into the lion's paw. "Or, rather, you'll despatch your gulpy men to do it as you lack the bottom to face a man squarely. Perhaps your cowardice has reduced you to mere snide pinching."

  That last accusation of being a counterfeiter set Tanner off. The big man started around the bar in the direction of Holmes. Hayden attempted to push through the crowd and intercept the larger man, but his diminutive form lacked the strength to move larger men stunned into immobility. A look of grave concern was etched into his features.

  "I'll not pocket that, Holmes!" Tanner's pale features were now livid. "Recant and shut your blabber, or there will be consequences."

  "Do you think I fear a leg such as you." Holmes stepped up to the bar and slammed his hand down on the wood. "Blood or beer, you prig!"

  "I'll rip you in two, you bleedin' mandrake!"

  "Excellent!" Holmes made a show of scrutinizing Tanner. "I see you've been pouring beer into that fat stomach of yours. Well, I shall display more honour than you deserve. One hour, mumper, for you to clear your head. In the ring round back. Agreed?"

  Hayden had made it to Tanner's side and urgently sought the man's attention. He would just as well as tried to attract the notice of a mountain.

  "Done and done!" said Tanner, banging his fists together. "Use the time wisely, Holmes. The moments will be your last."

  This was our call to beat a fast retreat. The two men at the door remained intent on detaining us regardless of what had just transpired. I discretely showed them my pistol and they parted.

  TWELFTH SCRATCH

  We hastily put some distance between ourselves and the Bald-faced Stag and paused to catch our breath in an al
leyway out of the wind.

  "That's done it, Holmes," said I. "Whatever were you thinking?"

  "Time is against us. There was no other choice," said he. "Tanner and Hayden are leaving in a few short hours on the Pegasus bound for New York. I snuck a look at the ship's manifest while pretending to admire Hight's stickpin at the docks. They are well aware of the police net closing in on their operation and are clearing out. This is why they graduated from selling counterfeit notes to passing them off as they settle their business in England – in an effort to accumulate as much cash as possible before sailing away with the money stuffed into crates from the sawmill. They are relying on the chaos resulting when their fellow criminals are descended upon by the Yard. It was because Nigel Mathews had learned this that he was murdered. Lestrade and his men are pursuing the list of names Brophy provided in the hope of eliciting testimony from the men who have been cheated with the false paper. Lestrade must be allowed the time necessary to complete this task."

  "And you seek to delay Tanner from fleeing by stepping into the ring with him?"

  "Precisely."

  "With so much at stake, he would be a fool to involve himself in this."

  "Do you not see, Watson, that we have presented Tanner with a target too tempting to pass up? Also, he knows we have discovered the counterfeit notes, this is why he tried to have us killed in the road. Imagine his surprise when we stepped into the pub, like Daniel into the lion's den, and offered ourselves up to be slaughtered."

  "Tanner has more to lose than to gain."

  "Indeed. He is, as you said, a fool. You must realize Tanner expects to make quick work of me. Either with his fists or by use of the poisoned spike. Whatever the method, he sees it as fast sport – time which he can easily afford. And his pride will be his downfall. I shall prolong the fight and, once it has begun, he cannot exit the ring without yielding and thereby giving credence to the insults upon his honour I uttered in front of witnesses, to say nothing of his yearning to send us to our graves with the knowledge we possess. No, he will see the fight through and this will buy Lestrade and his men the time they need."

  "I understand. Still, there must be other ways to delay their departure until the police can swoop in."

  "There are, but none as attractive and distracting to our prey. There are spotters scattered about the neighbourhood who regularly monitor the movement of the police. At the first sign of a stealthy approach of the law, the pub will be notified and our quarry will slip away. Getting Tanner in the ring, and keeping him there, means the advance warnings will amount to nothing as he will be engaged in something he cannot extract himself from. All else falls away when the first blow is struck and Tanner will be blind to all else, but destroying me."

  "He may very well succeed." I leaned in to address Holmes confidentially. "Must I remind you that you fought but three days ago and have hardly eaten or slept since. Throw in the crash and the injuries to your knee and ankle and stepping into the ring with the likes of Tanner is suicide."

  "The apothecary," said Holmes simply. "A necessary stop."

  It took a moment for me to understand his meaning. "Not that damnable cocaine!"

  "I have studied the substance. Ingested orally in a carefully measured quantity, in pure form, cocaine will take thirty minutes to enter the blood stream with a thirty to sixty percent absorption result. While the onset of the effects, both physical and psychotropic, is slow they are sustained for approximately sixty minutes. The resulting surge of energy will carry me through the contest."

  "At risk of potentially irreparable damage to your heart, lungs, brain and kidneys! And what of the curare awaiting you in the ring? Holmes I won't stand idly by ... "

  "Then you condemn me to death at the hands of Tanner."

  "You should not be trading blows with him at all. He is a professional."

  "Past his prime. As was McMurdo, I remind you."

  "Both beyond your level of expertise."

  "I must concede the point, Watson. Under normal conditions with full enforcement of the boxing rules, you are correct, I cannot match them for long. Note, however, that Tanner will not adhere to the rules. He has shown this previously with the poisoning death of poor Fred Mathews. And he simply does not have the time for a fair fight. Creativity will come into play once we begin, and I can be quite imaginative in that regard. I trust you know me well enough to know I have reasoned it out."

  "You cannot go through with it. You have bought Lestrade one hour during which time we can be certain Tanner will stay put. It will have to do."

  "And if it is not enough?" asked Holmes. "We will be letting the murders of Nigel and Fred Mathews go un-avenged. We will be allowing a counterfeiter, thief, exploiter and murderer free passage to a new life with ill-gotten spoils. No. I will fight the man."

  "He will kill you."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "I see there will be no dissuading you. Well, I shall not bear witness while you secure poison for this madness. A tea shoppe operates three doors from the apothecary. I will find a table and await you there. Join me and I will monitor the affects after you have consumed the cocaine."

  I turned and left him in the alley. Striding out my anger, I reached the tea shoppe, knocked the substantial snow from my greatcoat and all but tumbled down the gloomy, steep stairwell into the steamy atmosphere, tinged with the odour of teas and coffee, of a low-ceilinged, smoke-darkened flat with dingy stalls consisting of narrow tables and grimy mahogany seats.

  Finding a table was not difficult as the place was deserted. I made use of one of a rank of hat pegs and sat down. Dismally uncomfortable, I scanned the egg-stained table cloth for a spot to place my forearm. Squinting through the murky air, I searched for an attendant but none were about.

  Rapping upon the table with a copper produced better results and a man in shirt-sleeves appeared. He set down a saucer and mug and splashed a dark liquid into it, which looked strong enough to stand a spoon in. One sip confirmed this. Coarse sugar from the cracked glass bowl was dismal, and the dirty milk from the dirtier mug ended my notion of taking refreshment. Still, as I had no idea when the opportunity to eat would present itself, I was resigned to the huge slabs of brown-crusted bread smeared with a yellow deposit of oily butter accompanying the beverage.

  Holmes found me there ten minutes later, ducking his tall, gaunt frame somewhat for fear of knocking his head on the ceiling. "My word, Watson. You can pick 'em."

  A second rap on the table resulted in similar victuals in front of Holmes who sipped readily at the brew. "Truly awful," he concluded. "It will have to do, I suppose."

  From his coat pocket he produced a small twist of paper, which he folded in half and popped into his mouth before I could attempt a last protest. A swallow of the swill carried it to its destination. Now all we could do was wait. I had watched him inject cocaine enough times and in this instance, the dose had a valid reason beyond merely as a means to overcome boredom. Nevertheless seeing it did not sit well. I chose another subject to occupy my thoughts.

  "I should like to return to the matter of Arthur Mathews and Tanner."

  "I thought it plain" said Holmes. "Mathews Sr. was to be released from his debt in exchange for providing free passage to Tanner and Hayden. The proof of which we discovered at the docks."

  "Yes, But how did you join the two? Surely it was not merely the ropes around Tanner's boxing ring?"

  "They were but the weakest link to Arthur Mathews. A single chain link is nothing more than a hoop of iron. Connect it to others of its kind and you create something that can bind indefinitely. The ropes together with the planks from the sawmill of Nigel Mathews established a connection between the Mathews family and Tanner. As we had previously established, Tanner would not have an illegal boxing ring built by persons whose silence he could not ensure. What was the nature of that control? Arthur Mathews was in debt and Nigel Mathews had been murdered not far from a pub run by the criminal element in a place he had no busin
ess being. This had to be explored and the results are conclusive. From the sawmill we found the link to Jonathan Midge who gave Nigel Mathews a reason to be in Camden Town the night he was murdered."

  "But what connected Midge to Tanner?"

  "The newspaper account of his death stated the man had once had an affiliation with carnivals. Tanner related to us how he and the dwarf Hayden had met through their employment at carnivals."

  "A connection Nigel Mathews discovered while interrogating Midge."

  "Precisely. He also learned of the imminent departure of Tanner and Hayden and the resulting cancellation of the debt. His later attack on the dwarf and the planting of the notes – yes, it was Nigel who left the counterfeit notes in Tanner's coat under the watchful eye of the battered yet still conscious Hayden." Holmes pause long enough to sip some more of the ghastly brew.

  "This led to questions," Holmes continued. "Why did Nigel Mathews go to these lengths? He had already killed once that night, why leave Hayden alive? Why plant the notes? The answers are evident to us now. Mathews had tipped the police about the Stag. They arrived very quickly, if you recall. It certainly wasn't one of that rough lot from Alison's who called them. If was Nigel Mathews himself, seeking to disrupt the deal his father had in place by having Tanner and Hayden arrested. If they could not get safe passage, the erasure of the debt would not happen. He paid for his desire for vengeance against his father with his life."

  " It is a tragic tale, no question."

  A transformation slowly came over Holmes. First his eyes glittered with unnatural intensity and his breathing increased slightly. A trickle of perspiration inched down from his high forehead. The cocaine was taking effect. "Not utterly tragic, Watson. We will finish up at the pub. Some measure of justice for the guilty. I'm afraid I may lose that tooth you so expertly re-implanted."

  "Let us hope that is all you lose."

  That brought our next destination readily to my thoughts. A glance at my pocket watch told me it was time to head back. Holmes seemed to be all right despite the encroaching maniacal air. I would do everything in my power to keep him in one piece, and damn Lestrade if the man was late.