by Ted Riccardi
As your executor, I have taken charge of your personal affairs, which, I trust, will be in good order when you eventually return. A distraught Watson has just placed your obituary in the papers and is now writing up what he believes to be your “final problem.” Although my sympathies go out to him, I agree with you that the deception of a sincerely grieving friend is necessary to your long-term survival.
Mycroft
“I was immediately gratified by my brother’s expression of trust in me, Watson, but I confess that I felt no immediate enthusiasm for the mission he mentioned. Mycroft, as you know, is the most brilliant mind available to our Government. Indeed, as I have remarked on previous occasions, in some important ways he is the British Government. His message to me held important clues: the remotest corner of the civilised world could only mean somewhere in Asia, and in Asia most probably Tibet, that perennial goal of the romantic Englishman. But I assure you that what transpired in Tibet, or in any other remote corner of the world for that matter, was then farthest from my mind. After Moriarty’s death, having dodged the rocks thrown down on me by Colonel Moran, I had taken to my heels, torn and bleeding, and had done ten miles in the darkness over the mountains before I boarded a train to Italy. The reaction of a terrible weariness was upon me, and I knew that I should be limp as a rag for many days to come.”
Holmes suddenly rose and began pacing back and forth in front of me. He did not have to wait long, he said, to find out more about the proposed mission. It was towards evening a day later, that the portiere in the pensione where he had taken a room handed him a note:
Please meet me at seven this evening at the Piazza della Signoria about the urgent matter of which you have already been informed. Under the Medusa head.
Suo dev. mo
Sg. Berolini
The last reference was of course to the famous statue of Perseus by Cellini that still graces the central piazza of Florence. And it was to that place that Holmes walked slowly from his pensione, arriving at exactly seven o’clock. He placed himself near the statue and looked around. It was the hour of what is known in Italy as the passeggiata, and the square was filled with strollers walking arm in arm. Among them he saw striding towards him the only single figure, a short rather stout man, wearing a black overcoat and a fedora.
“I am Signor Berolini.” He bowed, addressing Holmes in measured but almost flawless Italian. “Please follow me,” he said. They walked over to a nearby bench not far from the piazza, where they sat and conversed.
“But you are an Englishman nonetheless,” Holmes replied, a bit sardonically perhaps. The man was a bit taken aback by his remark.
“How on earth did you know?” he cried out, breaking suddenly into English. “I have gone to great pains to create an Italian identity.”
“Then begin by taking the added trouble of employing an Italian barber to shape your moustache instead of trimming it yourself.”
Seeing that the man was crestfallen at his immediate exposure of him, Holmes did not continue in this vein, for he saw no reason to destroy the man’s already injured confidence.
“My name is really James Munro,” he said with a tight, embarrassed smile.
He handed Holmes a card that identified him as an agent of our foreign ministry, permanently assigned to the Italian peninsula. Holmes did not remark audibly on this part of his disguise, nor that he easily deduced that Munro had worked in Scotland Yard for a number of years.
“We shall leave here separately,” said Munro, “having recovered his composure, “and meet again in one hour at the address on the back of that card. Please memorise it. Any cab will take you there.”
He removed the card from Holmes’s hand and replaced it in his pocket. Rising quickly, he tipped his hat with a cheerful “Auguri” and disappeared into the crowd. Thorougly amused, Holmes sat there for a few moments alone, contemplating the piazza, one of the most beautiful of Italian creations. Then he hopped into a cab, asking the driver to take him to the assigned address.
It took almost an hour to reach his destination, a large villa beyond the old city limits on the southern route towards Rome, some hours from Montepulciano, Pienza, and the other beautiful towns that fill the Tuscan landscape. It was already dusk, and the shadows of the Italian pines were thrown softly everywhere by the golden setting sun.
Holmes alighted from the cab and was again met by Munro, alias Berolini, who stood at the gate, opening it as he approached. He followed him down the main path to a large villa that sat a few hundred yards back from the road behind a large garden. They entered and proceeded to the library in which two gentlemen, highly placed at the time in the British cabinet, were already seated. Holmes recognised one of them instantly; the other he knew by name. He has asked that I not reveal their identities. One of them, a ranking member of our foreign office who still carries great weight in the upper circles of government though he has since resigned, began the discussion.
“Mr. Holmes, I am here to explain to you in detail the mission to which your brother has alluded in his message to you. I sincerely hope that you will agree to take on the tasks that I am about to describe to you. Should you choose not to, however, I trust that all that will have transpired between us will be irrevocably forgotten and dismissed from your mind.”
Holmes nodded in assent. “You may speak frankly, Your Lordship, and I shall consider most seriously whatever you propose. I can assure you, however, that should your mission not suit me, I shall immediately dismiss it as well as any recollection of our meeting here this evening.”
“Then listen most carefully, Mr. Holmes. As you may be aware, the threat to our Indian Empire from the design of other Oriental powers continues to grow and perturb those of us who have the grave responsibility of maintaining our vast Empire in safety and order. Although the entire Subcontinent has been pacified internally for some time, the threat continues to grow from outside. The Russians, the Japanese, and at times those who manage the flickering energies of the Chinese empire stand ever ready to take from us what is by now rightfully deemed ours. They see our Indian possessions as the likely sources of their own eventual enrichment, knowing little of the costly civilising burden that we carry there. Although the defences of the Empire in India are strong, the threat grows in Central Asia, an area that, as you know, is almost totally closed to us and still little known at best. The Tsars have continued to conquer and plunder the region, moving their borders eastward to the confines of Tibet, where they already have their resident agents. The Japanese, their eyes constantly on a weakening and starving China, have already begun to depute their agents there as well. You perhaps have heard of the Russian lama Dorjiloff and the notorious Yamamoto of Kyoto.”
“The two have well-known criminal records, achieved long before they disappeared into the wilds of Tibet,” said Holmes confidently. “Dorjiloff is a man of the greatest intelligence and is extremely dangerous. He is wanted for a particularly brutal murder in Riga. Yamamoto is hardly Dorjiloff’s equal, though he has his talents. He is wanted in Shanghai for extortion and embezzlement. I have grappled with both in London, albeit at a distance and unfortunately without lasting success. Their reincarnations as Government agents have amused me for some time.”
“They have been in and out of Lhasa for several years,” continued the minister, “during which period our relations with the Tibetan government have come under serious strain. The Viceroy is already of the strong opinion that these agents, pursuing aggressive Tsarist and Japanese policies of expansion in the Orient, have moved the Tibetan government away from its traditionally neutral stance to one that could foreseeably cause us great trouble along our Himalayan border, thereby sowing the seeds of political dissatisfaction in the plains of Hindusthan as well. The ultimate objective is of course obvious: the removal of Britain as a power from the continent of Asia and the division of the spoils between Tsar and Emperor. I myself regard the latter as almost unthinkable considering our present strength. But I am also a person
of prudence, one whose task it is in government to make sure that not even the slightest step along this path is taken.”
“I understand your concerns,” said Holmes. “What, then, are the immediate circumstances that have brought you here?”
“Recent events led us at first to believe that matters were about to improve. This past year, the Chinese government agreed to a treaty that would begin the regularisation of our relations with Tibet. In order to stabilise these relations, we asked that the treaty be signed as soon as possible. The Chinese agreed, but they have only nominal control over the Tibetans and could only meekly request Tibetan compliance. Indeed, the constantly weakening Chinese government proved too feeble to obtain Tibetan consent. As soon as certain elements within the Tibetan government who are unfriendly to us became aware of some of the provisions of the treaty, they began, deliberately and presumably with the aid of agents such as Dorjiloff, to undermine it. Boundary markers were uprooted and destroyed, border patrols were attacked, and, most impudently, English merchants were prevented from plying their trade. The most egregious example of this dastardly conduct occurred when the only road from Tibet to the market of Yatung, which had been thrown open to trade with India by the stipulations of the convention of 1810, was permanently blocked by the building of a wall. Letters from the Viceroy protesting this action to the Grand Lama in Lhasa were returned unopened. In order to convince the Tibetans that deeds such as these could only prove harmful in the long run and that it was in Tibet’s interest to sign the treaty at once, a treaty that in my judgement is most generous to Tibet, a special envoy was sent to the Grand Lama with the specific purpose of explaining our present position directly and without ambiguity. The emissary was Sir William Manning, one of the most sober of our diplomats, whose experience began in the Central Provinces and included a distinguished period of service in Kashmir. We had every hope for his success, but except for a brief note sent by Manning himself to the Viceroy announcing his safe arrival in Lhasa, nothing has been heard of him since. A year has now gone by since his arrival, all requests from us have gone unheeded, and the Tibetan government professes no knowledge of him or his mission. Furious with what he considers to be Tibetan duplicity, the Viceroy has now requested permission to send an armed force to take the Tibetan capital and put an end once and for all to Tibetan machinations. His Majesty’s Government, however, is reluctant to do this without one last approach to the Tibetan government. It is the general opinion in London that a war in Tibet is to be avoided at this juncture, if at all possible. Despite our military supremacy in the region, it would be a costly affair, causing severe repercussions amongst the warring tribesmen in Central Asia, all of which we would regard as undesirable. We are well aware of our losses in Afghanistan and do not wish to repeat such unfortunate episodes. An invasion would come only as a last resort. The mission which we propose to you, therefore, Mr. Holmes, would have several goals: to find Manning or learn what has happened to him; to have the treaty signed or, barring that, recommend to us a course of action, including, if you deem it necessary, an invasion of Tibet, for which undesirable eventuality we are prepared; and, finally, of course, to do whatever might be done to neutralise the effects of Yamamoto and Dorjiloff, particularly the latter. Until now, there has been no one whom we could oppose to the dexterity of the Buriat lama Dorjiloff, no one who might bring some sense to the turbulent children of Tibet. We believe that you are amongst the very few who can do these things. Should you agree to the mission, you will have the full force of Government and their resources behind you. I should advise that in all dealings with the Tibetan Government you keep to the specific identity which we have chosen for you and confirmed in the documents: if you accept the mission, you will be known as Hallvard Sigerson, Scandinavian explorer and naturalist, and incidentally secret envoy of the British Government. Your true identity as Sherlock Holmes is to be kept secret and revealed only if necessary to the success of the mission. This, I would presume, would be your wish as well, judging from what little Mycroft Holmes has let us know of your immediate desires.”
Holmes listened intently to the Minister’s every word. Despite his fatigue and reluctance to undertake any arduous assignments, he found that he was most intrigued. He had thought of a long trip to a quiet corner of the world where he could recover and plan the demise of his remaining enemies in the Moriarty gang. Why not Tibet? The suggested journey not only fit his plan to avoid his enemies for a time, but it promised to be a mission of the greatest interest. It also gave him an official disguise, invaluable to him at this dangerous juncture in his life. He therefore did not hesitate.
“I agree to the mission, Your Lordship, but I shall need immediate assistance. I should say, immodestly perhaps, that for a variety of reasons my knowledge of some aspects of Tibet is already considerable, and I shall not bore you with the many reasons why that is so. I do nothing of this kind, however, without the most painstaking preparation, preparation which, under circumstances such as those which may befall me during the mission—conceivably matters of life and death—must reach to the most minute detail.”
The minister smiled when he heard Holmes’s acceptance, and in answer to his last words replied: “Easily done, my dear Holmes, far more easily done than you would have thought. First, accept this portfolio. It contains official copies of the treaty to be signed, copies of the charge to Manning as well as the details of his mission and itinerary, and secret exchanges concerning Tibet between ourselves and the Chinese.”
As he spoke, he handed Holmes a large folder containing the official papers.
“Enclosed also is what I trust you will find to be more than adequate compensation for your efforts and for your expenses to Lhasa and return. There are also your personal documents identifying you as the Norwegian naturalist Hallvard Sigerson. And now, let us proceed to the adjoining chamber.”
They moved to the next room, one smaller than the library but also lined with books. It was the second minister who spoke at this time. “Thanks again to your brother Mycroft, Mr. Holmes, we were able to locate our meeting in this villa, the home of Count Giancarlo Possenza d’Este, one of Italy’s greatest explorers and scholars of the Orient, and a good friend, I might add, of Mycroft’s and mine from the Diogenes Club in London. It was in anticipation of your assent to the mission that his estate was chosen for our meeting. He himself is absent from Italy, but he has consented to full use of his collections. This room contains substantial resources in several languages on the history and peoples of Tibet and adjacent areas. There is, in my judgement, no better collection anywhere. In your stay, an active brain such as yours should be able to absorb and retain as much as it needs. Notice, too, that these drawers contain detailed maps, the best now available, on Tibet and on Lhasa itself. We have made arrangements for you to live here until your departure from Italy. Berolini has already seen to the removal of your bags from your pensione, so you needn’t return there at all. You will have, in all, six weeks here. You will travel then to Naples, and thence to Brindisi, where you will board a ship for Bombay. Once there, you must seek advice from the Indian Government—the Viceroy himself will be in charge of your mission—as to how to proceed and what the best route to Lhasa will be at the time of your arrival. Best of luck to you, my dear fellow, and I earnestly hope for your safety and success.”
They shook Holmes’s hand vigorously as they departed.
“I was left alone, Watson, elated at the prospect of my new adventure but still feeling the exhaustion of the previous days. By this time it was almost eleven and I decided to retire. A knock at the door came just as this thought occurred to me, and one of the servants appeared and showed me to my quarters. A heavy fatigue enveloped me, and I went smoothly into the first real sleep since the death of Moriarty.”
The following days were for Holmes, as he recalled them for me, a vigorous assay into the Oriental literature on Tibet and its neighbours. Each day he spent long hours poring over old histories and ma
ps, taking notes, memorising routes, passes, and altitudes. Since he was to travel in the guise of a Scandinavian explorer and naturalist, he made certain of his familiarity with what was known of Himalayan flora and fauna. He studied not only Hooker but also, and not without a certain irony, the works of his remaining chief enemy, Colonel Moran, who had spent long years in the Himalayas. At night, he learned the peculiar script and studied the language. He read the classic accounts of the Catholic missionaries such as Orazio della Penna and Le Père Huc. By all these accounts, the journey to Tibet was considered to be a most dangerous one, and it was in this last text of Huc that he read of the curious misadventures of the first Englishman to visit Tibet, a certain Clement Moorcroft, who was, according to the good friar’s account, killed by bandits as he attempted his return from Lhasa. Not an appealing precedent, he thought. Danger lurked everywhere for the casual traveller, and accounts of more recent visitors did not differ in this judgement.
It was the more recent accounts, however, that provided much of what he needed to understand present conditions in the country. There was what appeared to be a most complicated political situation. The Grand Lama, the titular ruler of the country, was still a young boy in his minority, and the power of his office was wielded by a regent, one Getong Tsarong. Little was known of the latter except that he was the most feared individual in Tibet, known for his ruthless methods and great cruelties. His power seemed to be diminishing, however, for in addition, there now lived in the Potala itself, the residence of the Grand Lama, this strange presence who bore the name of Dorjieff or Dorjiloff, the deadly agent alluded to by the ministers from London. In strategic but temporary collusion with him was the Japanese Yamamoto. The two appeared bent on wresting control of Tibet from the Tibetans themselves and dividing it between their respective governments. How long it would be before the interests of these two powers diverged into open conflict rather than remain in the cooperation that they now professed depended largely on the cleverness of our own policy. Holmes was indeed walking right into the Great Game in Central Asia.
