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

by Jack Tunney

  The snow was doubly biting after the close atmosphere of the tea shoppe. It did revive us though, and our colour was high when we rounded the corner of the pub and approached the shed with the boxing ring. I wanted to implore Holmes one last time to give up this folly, but I knew there would be no turning him from his path.

  THIRTEENTH SCRATCH

  Tanner betrayed his eagerness by being stripped down to britches and already in the ring when we entered the warehouse. Hayden was in Tanner's corner, a scowl of pure hatred on his face.

  "I respect a man who is on time for his own funeral," said Tanner. "Step right up, gentlemen and we'll begin."

  Holmes strode boldly forward. A brick wall would not have stopped him. He shed his outer garments as he approached the ring. Shirtless and in britches, he bent between the sagging ropes and, bouncing lightly upon his toes, faced Tanner. "Shall we proceed?"

  The intensity in my friend's eyes almost convinced me the fight would not be a fair one – for Tanner. However, one glance at the muscled torso and impressive frame of the big man convinced me otherwise.

  The advantage of size and ability lay with Tanner. The man had also gone to fat, and the glistening gut bulging the waist of his britches would slow him down. Certainly Holmes realized this.

  Without ceremony, the two men stepped to the middle of the ring. There would be no umpires, no rules and no reprieve. The crowd from the bar knew this and gave forth lusty enthusiasm for the spectacle to begin.

  Upon toeing the scratch line, Tanner set to with the due diligence of someone wanting to end the affair quickly while at the same time hoping to savour the destruction of his opponent. He rubbed his hands together and went at Holmes.

  Holmes threw himself into very fair position, his left well balanced for a shoot, his right across his body and he was lightly, but firmly, planted on his toes.

  Tanner tried to lead off his left, but Holmes danced well back. Another attempt met with the same result. Yes, Holmes had seen the disadvantage Tanner's fat presented and sought to exploit it by forcing the bigger man into energy draining movement.

  Tanner pressed ever forward, as inexorable as the tide and about as quickly. Holmes easily evaded the big man. For the moment.

  Both men feinted and dodged to find a weak point, but for a short time each fortress was well guarded. Holmes let go his left and a right. They were out of distance and barely brushed Tanner's forearms. This emboldened him, so Holmes put the man's wind to the test.

  Holmes ceased breaking ground. Standing almost toe to toe with the tiring Tanner, he leaned back, dropping his arms to his side. His long torso, so positioned, placed his head at the limit of Tanner's reach. Twitching his head this way and that, demonstrating the reflexes of a jungle cat, the stout blows Tanner shot barely touched his opponent's face, brushing harmlessly along first the right side of the jaw, then the other. This went on for five or six attempts, then Holmes turned and countered with a light cross to the neck of Tanner. Not to inflict damage, only to let Tanner know he could have if he so desired.

  Tanner shook off the blow, the intent behind it enraged him further. He came at Holmes again and again Holmes retreated, keeping his head at the limit of the man's range. The result was to be expected. Tanner's chest pulsed like a bellows and he gave up the chase for the moment.

  Holmes feinted constantly, always staying just out of reach, which no doubt infuriated Tanner all the more. He tried a left. Tanner stopped it and got back with a quick jab that found the mark. Holmes countered quickly. His opponent was ready for it and blocked.

  Holmes barely got out of the way of Tanner's combination. Tanner missed a couple of well-meant shots before popping a rattler on the throat of Holmes. Holmes retaliated on the right brow.

  The big man was smiling, his eyes fixed on Holmes. He was certain he had the better of his opponent and would toy with Holmes a while longer before bringing the fight to an end. Holmes kept away. Not falling for the ploy a second time, Tanner did not pursue. This brought the ire of the drunken crowd thirsting for blood.

  Holmes gave it to them.

  He came forward and the two fighters engaged in a little fiddling. Tanner believed this part of the game and didn't mind a little in-fighting. The tentative nature of the approach vanished as Holmes got near the bigger man. He instantly slung out his left full on the bridge of Tanner's nose. Slightly stunned, Tanner was open for the uppercut and right cross Holmes sent his way before taking ground to the right.

  Tanner swiped at the blood running from his mashed nose. The crowd roared its appreciation of the show of red at Tanner's expense. Holmes, on his toes, shot Tanner a wink and dropped his guard contemptuously.

  Reason fled Tanner's brain. He lunged forward, his arms working like pistons. Holmes leaned back always a hair's breadth out of reach as they made a circuit of the ring. Sweat now poured freely down the faces and torsos of the two men.

  This ended when Tanner feinted with his right, then lunged forward with a left. The blow missed the mark, but the full weight of the ponderous fist fell on the right arm of Holmes, which was driven back against his face. Holmes retaliated on the right brow of Tanner and broke ground.

  Tanner, as well as I, plainly saw his shot had numbed his opponent's right arm, which was now held too tight against the body. The big man got a rum one on the left cheek of Holmes. Tanner dropped his left with effect on Holmes’ nose.

  Holmes danced away then came again on another tack. Bang went his left on Tanner's cheek, and then he was instantly out of danger again. Tanner rushed after him, but was well stopped, thrice in succession.

  Holmes kept out of harm's way, dodging his man effectively. Until Tanner countered Holmes heavily on the cheek drawing blood and raising a considerable bump. Holmes staggered. Tanner would not give him space. He came on intent to force the fighting.

  Holmes worked his right arm as he retreated in an attempt to shake some life into the limb. He tried a left to back Tanner off, but the blow lacked steam. Tanner got one on the chest of Holmes, but not heavily.

  Suddenly the strategy revealed itself to me. Holmes had used his momentary disability to encourage Tanner to expend vast energy in his intent to kill. The big man's chest heaved and he panted, his face deep crimson from the exertion.

  Had Holmes moved in with the speed he possessed, he might have finished Tanner who leaned forward like a sawn tree poised to topple. I cursed Lestrade and this damned delaying action while I witnessed Holmes continue to retreat when it was time to attack.

  Tanner evidently concluded the fight had gone on long enough. He attempted to guide Holmes into the darkened corner where Fred Mathews had found curare waiting. Holmes was having none of it and his very posture indicated indignation rather than fear over the man's actions.

  Holmes joined issue at once. He let fly his left with no warning. This was followed by a rattler to the cheek of Tanner. An uppercut missed, but a hot one scored Tanner's left cheek. Another effort landed on Tanner's chin.

  Tanner returned on the chest as Holmes swung away from the poisoned corner. Cheeks puffing for air, Tanner broke ground. Holmes delivered his left, but not effectively on Tanner's chest.

  "Time!" The cry sounded in clear violation of the rules. Then again, no rules had been set for this match.

  The shout had come from Hayden and I would not have though him capable of sufficient volume to rise above the din. The two fighters straightened warily. I whipped my ahead around and saw Hayden stepping away from a bedraggled youth with a coating of snow upon his threadbare greatcoat and damp hair. The dwarf waddled toward Tanner's corner.

  Holmes joined me in his.

  "Has Lestrade been found out?" I whispered to Holmes.

  "Could be. Perhaps the Yard is making its move. Does the warning reach them early or too late?"

  "Tanner will have to call off the fight."

  "He will never do it," said Holmes, speaking rapidly between breaths. "I have shown him up. He wants to punish me. I am out of
reach. Nothing enrages the bull more than a target it cannot strike. When we resume, the fight will turn away from straight boxing. I shall let Tanner set the tone while we wait for Lestrade."

  Tanner was in heated discussion with Hayden. I could but hope the net was closing around them and the dwarf was endeavouring to convince his master there remained no time for fighting. The repeated shakes of Tanner's massive head strengthened my interpretation of their exchange.

  "Tanner will be desperate to end the fight quickly," said I. "By any means. If he gets those hands on you, he'll throttle you as he did Nigel Mathews."

  Tanner was up and approaching the scratch line. Holmes did likewise. "Tanner did not kill Nigel Mathews." Holmes said over his shoulder as he strode to the center of the ring. "Must crack on."

  This time it was Holmes who pressed the matter. After coming to scratch, he switched to the stance of a left-hander fighting out of the right-foot-forward southpaw stance and landed a sharp one over the right eye of Tanner.

  Another right jab burrowed into the large stomach before Tanner extended his left jab to create separation. Holmes lodged a little one on Tanner's nose as a result. Slight exchanges followed as Tanner adapted, stepping outside the left foot of Holmes. He took a right cross-hit for his trouble as Holmes pivoted left and let go.

  During this brief flurry, Tanner had so turned that he had Holmes with his back to the poisoned corner. He lunged as if launching a new combination of blows. Holmes retreated, off balance.

  Tanner opened his hands and thrust Holmes backwards with all his strength. Falling backwards, Holmes reeled into the corner with the curare-tipped tacks. At the last second, he bent double at the waist and hit the ring post first with his lower body. As the poisoned tack was set high to prick the upper back, Holmes landed below it.

  Still, he had but seconds to get out of the corner before Tanner could trap him there and force him into the poison. Tanner knew this and sprang forward to finish Holmes. Holmes waited until the last possible moment, then cut deftly to the left, clubbing a lethal left into Tanner's ribs. The big man had to open his hands to clutch at the ropes in an effort to keep clear of the curare. In this position, he was vulnerable and Holmes pounded at the man's center until Tanner grasped the ropes to stay upright.

  The big man was no stranger to pain and he endured the damage gamely. He came up swinging wild with both hands. Half the blows missed the mark, however, Holmes was driven back.

  Counter-hits ensued. Tanner seized the right arm of Holmes and yanked him off balance. Holmes sprawled face-first on the rough boards. Tanner leapt to plant both feet in the back of his opponent. Holmes rolled away and came cleanly to his feet.

  The fight had turned just as Holmes had predicted. Tanner meant to have his life with no holds barred.

  This change in the nature of the contest brought about a change in the way Holmes conducted himself. Tanner snapped a right to the head of Holmes. This was received on the right forearm.

  In the blink of an eye, Holmes had turned his palm while sliding his arm up to grasp Tanner's by the wrist. A quick short step to the right, while retaining hold on Tanner's arm, left the man vulnerable. Holmes soundly backhanded the large man behind the ear with his left fist.

  Holmes continued the movement by placing his left leg behind the left of Tanner and pulled the fighter toward him. Pressing upon the upper portion of Tanner's arm with his right forearm, Holmes leaned over Tanner's right arm with his body, throwing Tanner to the floor.

  The movement happened so quickly, the crowd did not know what it had seen. Tanner hit hard, the wind knocked from him. He sprang to his feet and raised his guard. Holmes appeared content to let him do it.

  This apparent nonchalance instantly faded when Tanner pulled a short dagger from the colours about his waist. Hayden must have slipped to him during their brief contact. My revolver was in my pocket and I plunged a hand for it as Tanner darted forward with the knife.

  Holmes was ready for him and another example of this strange fighting technique was displayed. The lunge was met when Holmes seized the knife hand of Tanner by the wrist with his index finger and thumb and yanked at the limb.

  Tanner instantly jerked his arm back, but Holmes relaxed his pull, putting Tanner off balance as he reeled back. Holmes followed the movement, bending Tanner's arm backward in the process.

  Stepping forward with that singular hooking of the legs, he pushed Tanner's right elbow in and up while turning the man's hand outward and down. The big fighter's face twisted in pain and he toppled backward, dropping the knife in the process.

  The ropes broke his fall and their elasticity propelled Tanner back into the fight. Enraged, confused and, ultimately frightened, Tanner let loose with all he possessed.

  Holmes was a spring-heeled Jack as he dodged, weaved, ducked all the while striking orthodox and singular back-handed blows seemingly at will. Tanner's head snapped first back, then to the side. He doubled over as the wind was driven from his lungs.

  For his part, Tanner landed his share. Holmes received a bloody nose and swollen cheeks in the exchange. However, Holmes struck with such speed and from every angle at once that after the flurry ended, the bigger opponent was out on his feet.

  At last Lestrade and his men burst into the room as Tanner slid down the ropes to sprawl insensible.

  FOURTEENTH SCRATCH

  Chaos ensued as the crowd fled in all directions. I had my gun out, but no one made a move toward me. Escape was their sole intent, and the police used batons to great effect. A shot rang out and an officer fell clutching at his side. However, it was clear to all the police had the upper hand and the numbers to keep it while they knocked the fight out of Tanner's rabble, who cursed them all they were subdued.

  Armed only with his fist against this cutthroat rabble, Holmes sprang for my side and the protection the pistol offered. Lestrade bashed his way through the melee towards us.

  "Find Hayden!" roared Holmes.

  I flung my gaze about and saw no sign of the dwarf. With pandemonium all around, I would not have seen the Queen. "He's likely run off. What of it?"

  "Lestrade!" Holmes shouted again, finally gaining the inspector's attention after the man had clubbed down the ruffian before him. "Have you found the dwarf?"

  A questioning look twisted Lestrade's features, but the man did not seek clarification. He barked orders to several of his men. They dashed through the door to the connecting courtyard.

  Holmes staggered and I supported his weight. He was cold, clammy and I felt his heart thundering in his chest.

  "You're all in, Holmes," said I, guiding him through the ropes. Holmes gestured weakly toward a stack of crates to one side, and I helped him to reach them.

  Lestrade's men had made quick work of the rogues and were herding them toward the far wall, keeping between them and the door. Three men hauled the insensate Tanner out of the ring.

  I gave Holmes my handkerchief to staunch the bleeding of his nose. "If you attempt to get up, I'll knock you down myself."

  "Hayden, Watson! That fool Lestrade!"

  "What is this sudden fixation you have on the dwarf?"

  "Suspected him from the first."

  "Does this connect to what you said in the ring? That Nigel Mathews did not die at the hand of Tanner?"

  With his chest heaving, Holmes could only manage snatches of speech. "Yes! Was Hayden."

  "How could this be? Mathews came to have it out with Tanner over the counterfeit notes," said I. Then something occurred to me. "And yet, if Fred Mathews knew of Tanner's gambling operation and went out to the Alexandria to challenge him, surely Nigel Mathews would also have known Tanner would not miss out on the betting for the McMurdo bout. So why go to the Bald-faced Stag and not Allison's?"

  "Exactly," gasped Holmes. "Hayden was target. Nigel... no fighter. Father said as much. If the boy expected Tanner at the pub... why no pistol on person? No. Wanted Hayden... knew dwarf would be alone."

  Holmes doubled ove
r, then straightened as he drew a deep breath into his lungs and his rate of respiration eased somewhat.

  "There were three drinks upon the bar," said I.

  Holmes nodded. "Hayden saw Nigel Mathews enter. Blood in his eyes. Knew he could not match him physically. Tanner was at Allison's. Why not drink? Talk things over? Like gentlemen. Hayden would see Mathews drank first."

  "Then there should be two glasses, then. Not three."

  Holmes fought to regain some measure of his self-control and his breathing slowed perceptibly after some long breaths. "Perhaps Mathews saw Hayden pour. Having just learned of the dwarf's treachery, Mathews left his glass untouched and poured a fresh one. Or his blood was up and he wanted only to do violence. The untouched glasses had a film of dust on their surfaces from the destruction Mathews wrought. The empty glass did not."

  "Remarkable to have noticed the state of the glasses in all that mess."

  "This lead me to conclude Mathews toasted his triumph after the evil work was done. Not realizing Hayden had poisoned the bottle, not the glass. Poisoned, Mathews staggered outside and fell paralyzed.

  "The man was strangled. There is no way Hayden could have pulled off such a feat. And there were no tracks around the body."

  "Hayden, beaten bloody, but undaunted, plucked collaring tongs from the rack in the blacksmith's and followed Mathews outside. Stepping lightly into the short, staggered prints of a man slowly being paralyzed, Hayden went to the immobile Mathews where the larger man had fallen and secured the clamp around the neck of the prone man. Throwing his weight this way and that upon the clamp, Hayden had leverage to break the neck of Mathews who lay helpless, inflicting the bruising we observed. Apparent cause of death –

  strangulation." Holmes took several more reviving breaths.

  After blowing his nose in a handkerchief I provided, Holmes continued. "He next used the tongs to peel back the dead man's coat, sever the watch chain and remove the billfold. He could not get at the gold snuffbox with the clumsy tongs. Retracing his steps, Hayden returned to the pub to play the innocent victim after having replaced the tongs and concealing, or most likely, burning what he had taken off the body. The heavy snow sufficiently filled in the small tracks he left inside Mathews’ prints. That last was a gamble on his part. Well, sometimes fortune favours the desperate. A quick lie to the police about four vandals and no one was the wiser. Or so he thought."