Sherlock Holmes Vs Irene Adler: A Duel of Wits (The Irene Adler Series Book 4)

by San Cassimally

  This Lord Something, she never knew his name, offered her twenty more pounds if she would let him take her away for good. He would look after her and treat her well, and one day help find a husband for her, but Emma shook her head violently and began to cry.

  ‘But I really like her,’ he entreated, ‘why, I might marry her myself.’ She must have been drunk, for she threw herself at him and pummelled him with her ineffective fists. This made him laugh, and he left, repeating that he really wanted her.

  Her health was in chronic decline and the astute Mrs Jeffries would let her work no more than two days a week, to help her remain functional, which was not enough for the three of them. Although she wouldn’t want her little ones to work for Jeffries, she ill-advisedly took the decision to take them, one at a time, to Cremorne Gardens where she herself sometimes went to earn a little extra. One afternoon she was there with Bertha, and had gone to ease herself. She asked her to wait on a bench, but when she came out of the bush, her little girl was gone. There was not much point in going to the police, who, she had been warned, usually put women in her situation behind bars for vagrancy.

  With one girl lost, and very little hope that the younger one would have a chance in life, she decided that they would now hang themselves. Martha agreed that this was the best thing they could do. The only reason they did not was that they had no rope.

  ‘Now, I had seen the older Mr Blaxby in Cremorne once before, obviously looking for some sinful pleasure. I had made sure that he did not see me. I further knew, by the way he used to look at me, that he rather fancied me. So I took my courage in both hands and went to his Chambers early one morning, in the hope that I might be able to talk to him alone. My prayer was answered. He was very civil and asked me to take a seat. Mr Blaxby, I said, you must know how I have suffered these last months after my Simon died. I have an idea that you find me attractive. Tell me if this is not the case, and I will walk away and not embarrass you. No, he said, I have indeed always found you very desirable. So I did not dilly dally, I am not one for putting a coat of bitter birch tar on the sugar lump I was offering him. I proposed that he let me come back to my old post and I would spend time in bed with him...’

  ‘You are one dark horse, Mrs Klight. I find your proposition very tempting, and as Mr Wilde said, I can resist anything bar temptation.’

  Thus it was that Emma was able to wean herself from the direst form of disreputable life there is, albeit to adopt another, but one where she was able to give up drugs and alcohol, and in which her daughter and she could go to bed with a full stomach. She thanked the Lord for having given her the strength to face her situation and find some sort of solution, far from ideal though it be. Obviously Bertha’s fate kept her mother and sister disconsolate, but although they had not given up on finding her, they had no idea who might be able to help. She was so scared when Martha said that she would do anything to get her sister back. Then one day someone mentioned Mr Holmes. Mr Blaxby in whom she had confided had promised to pay any expenses incurred. So Mr Lernière can rest easy, his dues will be met with.

  Irene told her that she would certainly do her best for her, but could not promise a result. Mrs Klight need not pay her anything until Bertha was rescued. Without mentioning Aztalan, she told her of the rumours that she had heard about the grooming of kidnapped girls for the purveyance of sex. She added that she had one or two ideas and would now look into them with greater urgency. For the first time a very faint smile lit up the face of the visitor.

  ‘I trust you sir,’ Emma said, as she walked away to the door.

  First thing next morning, Irene had just arrived in Warren Street, when there was a frantic pounding at her door. She was almost certain that it would be Emma Klight, and it was. She was shivering like she was in the throes of a fit of ague, and blurted out incoherent words.

  ‘Emma, I will only listen to you when you have calmed down. I will make you a cuppa, Sit down please.’

  ‘But she has gone, sir.’

  ‘Sshh. Just keep calm’

  After she had taken a sip of tea, all she did was show Irene a piece of paper. She took it and read the bold clear hand, ‘Mama, I will never come back if I don’t find Bertha. All my love. M.’ She had found this when she came home from work late yesterday, Mr Blaxby having kept her for a whole hour after the office had closed. It was too late to do anything.

  ‘Any idea where she might have gone?’ She explained that Martha knew about Cremorne Gardens, having been taken there in the past. She had once suggested going there, hide behind a bush and watch the goings on of men on the prowl, in the hope that she might discover a valuable clue. She had vehemently discouraged her, warning her of obvious dangers inherent in such a scatterbrained plan, but her little girl had gone, and she was sure that a terrible fate awaited her.

  Irene was taken aback. She had no idea how to proceed, what to say.

  ‘Now that both my girls are gone, there’s nothing left for me,’ said Emma, ‘I’m going to throw myself in the Thames.’

  ‘And what will your girls do when they come back?’

  ‘You think I’ll get them back?’ Irene was not sure at all, but said, ‘I can swear to you that you will get them back, Mrs Klight, trust Irene Adler.’

  ‘Who is Irene Sandler?

  ‘Oh it’s just an expression. Australian, I believe. I spent a year there you know. Trust Irene Sandler, they say to reassure people. I never discovered where the expression came from. What I mean is that I will move heaven and earth.’ You will need a magical spade for that woman, a small voice from inside her said mockingly.

  She made up her mind to go to St Albans and find Ernie the cabbie. That was the easy part. They went to a bar in Watling Street and she told him the story of Emma Klight and her daughters. She asked if she could meet his sister Maggie. She was disappointed to hear that she had been sacked, and had gone to Brighton to work as a nanny. She had not yet sent Ernie her new address.

  ‘Do you know why she was sacked?’ Ernie did not exactly, but it seemed that it was the policy of Aztalan to renew staff systematically. That’s because they have something to hide, Irene’s little voice whispered. She asked to be dropped outside the mansion, and spent a whole afternoon watching little girls playing and laughing, obviously having fun. But she recognised no one fitting the description of the two little disparues. She wondered whether when Holmes indulged in the white powder it did indeed foster illumination.

  A whole week passed and nothing had moved. Then ten days after Martha had disappeared, Emma appeared at Warren Street. She looked much more composed and the moment she sat down, she opened her shoulder bag found a letter which she handed over to Irene:

  Darling Mother,

  We love you so much both of us. We are in good health.

  We will be home soon.

  Bertha, Martha

  ‘Do you have the envelope?’ Irene asked, and Emma’s jaws dropped. No, sir, I used it to light the fire, she said. Did not think it was important. The postmark would at least have told us where they are, said Irene hiding her irritation.

  ______

  Martha had a plan when she left home. She made herself up to look like a nymphet, she hated it but she had done it before. She went directly to Cremorne Gardens as her mother had thought. She knew Schultz who had pimped for her on one or two occasions. She knew that he hanged around there, but it took a whole hour before he appeared. He saw her and accosted her and sat down next to her. They got talking and he said that he would find her a gentleman customer for the night if she was willing. She shrugged, and he went on talking about the various interesting things happening in their world. When he mentioned an American who ran a so-called orphanage, she questioned him, and he revealed that it was nothing like that. It was a serious money spinner. The man was minting money, and if Martha wanted he would take her to him. She shrugged again, ‘Why not?’

  ‘Ah,’ said the pimp, ‘only after I’ve sampled you.’

  ‘What?�
� said the shocked little girl although she had girded up her loins for the worst when she had embarked on her rash venture.

  ‘I want me wicked ways with yer, sweetheart.’

  She was in a daze when they arrived at Aztalan. She was served tea and cakes and invited to a plush armchair in the luxurious sitting room. Hiram J. Bleek Junior himself came down and greeted her with great warmth. ‘Young lady,’ he said to her, ‘you have shown great maturity in choosing comfort over poverty. An excellent initiative indeed. Here at Aztalan Enterprises, we will make sure that you will never go hungry ever again. And never again will you feel the cold slap of winter over your sweet little face. Forget the days when you were hungry little tatterdemalions. For somebody of your natural beauty, you deserve to be in fine clothes and jewellery for the rest of your life, mixing with the cream of society, and I will see to it that you get just that. Congratulations.’ But of Bertha there was no sign. She was pleased that no one had seemed to make the connection, although Mama said that they looked like two peas in a pod. She was taken to a room with six beds, where she met five other girls who giggled a lot and welcomed her. Young as she was, she was still able to summon the right mix of caution and friendliness when dealing with them.

  Next day, after a very appetising breakfast, everybody was excited, and she discovered that the rest of the morning was going to be taken by Father Hiram’s Convocation. Oh you will love it, the girls promised. He is such a dear, so good, so funny, so wise.

  They were led into the hall. The curtains were all drawn in, and the room was dimly lit by candles with blueish globes around them, producing a hypnotic sort of atmosphere. The girls were in an excitable mood, and they sat down merrily awaiting the week’s great moment. They did not have to wait long. Father Hiram appeared, dressed in a long blue robe reaching down to his ankle. Around his neck he had a chain and a medallion which Martha could not quite see. It seemed like an eye encased in the sun. The girls applauded ecstatically. She looked round for Bertha but was unable to see her.

  Father Hiram beamed a smile at them, raised his arms and let his head drop slightly to the right, in a gesture which Martha read as a sign of satisfaction with the ways of the world. The applause redoubled.

  ‘Anybody still hungry?’ he asked, and a chorus of, Of course not Father, followed.

  ‘He is going to make a rabbit appear,’ the girl next to Martha whispered. The man from Wisconsin explained that he had a big program for them this morning. He will begin by creating a rabbit. Although it seemed that everybody had seen this before, they all waited anxiously for this. He muttered some magic words and all of a sudden a pigeon appeared. The crowd laughed.

  ‘I wanted to make a rabbit, but the Spirit of Eon, may he prosper, does not always do what I ask. You see, no one is more powerful that the Spirit of Eon, may he prosper. Not even me.’ The crowd tut tutted, showing their inability to believe this.

  ‘Who does not believe that at Aztalan nothing is less important than your past and nothing more important than your present and your future.?’

  ‘The wretched past is buried and gone,’ chorused the assembly.

  ‘Would we, at Aztalan ask you to do anything you beautiful angels don’t want?’

  ‘Our will’s our own,’ thundered the twenty five girls.

  ‘What is the most evil thing in the world, you tell me, my little angels.’

  ‘Refusing food to the hungry.’

  ‘Would the Spirit of Eon, may he prosper, do anything to harm you?’

  ‘Never, never. Everything he does is for our own good.’

  ‘When the men hurts you little angels in bed, are you angry or sad?’

  ‘Only through suffering are we purified.’ This was followed by prolonged applause.

  ‘Is what you do sinful?’ Father Hiram asked.

  ‘Never. It’s a beautiful thing! It’s a beautiful thing.’ This was followed by rhythmical clapping and a chorus of It’s a beautiful thing. It’s a beautiful thing.’

  This went on for over an hour, and the atmosphere was one of joy. It was then that Father Hiram said that he had an important announcement to make.

  ‘Your beloved little angel sister Bertha will now say a few words. Listen carefully, for she has been recognised by the Spirit of Eon, may he prosper!’ The assembly lustily chorused, ‘May he prosper!’ a few times before Hiram J. Bleek junior raised his hands to demand silence. Bertha appeared on the stage next to him. Martha did not immediately recognise her, for all the fineries she was wearing. A tight-fitting pink costume in satin or silk, shoes in white leather, a bonnet with frills. She had a pearl necklace round her neck. The assembly applauded her and she began by reading a poem she had written eulogising Aztalan and Father Hiram. Martha started wondering whether what had happened to her might not be a good thing after all, as she seemed wrapped in serenity?

  When the Convocation ended, it was lunchtime and they were served roast chicken and potatoes, and to Martha’s surprise, there was even a choice of wine, which the girls were encouraged to partake of. The atmosphere of festivity lasted the whole afternoon.

  Later, when the girls were playing in the courtyard, Martha saw her sister and rushed towards her, but to her surprise, Bertha smiled at her, but made no effort to embrace her. Martha put her arms around her and the older sister gave her no more than a friendly hug. Martha had the wisdom not to show her disappointment. Bertha was unwilling to part from the companions she was with, but Martha managed to get her to come sit with her on a bench near the fishpond where she could talk in privacy.

  When they were seated, she put an arm round her older sister’s waist and drew her near, but the response was lukewarm.

  ‘Didn’t you miss mother?’ she asked, ‘didn’t you miss me?’

  ‘Of course, but I have a new life now. The Spirit of Eon, may he prosper...’ And she went on and on for a long while extolling him and the man from Wisconsin. Martha did not immediately ask difficult questions, but finally she did.

  ‘Did you not think that what you are doing, I mean what we have been doing is wrong?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Bertha angrily, ‘Father Hiram would never be party to any wrong, may the Spirit of Eon prosper. Oh Martha, he’s such a sweet man. He’s not a man, he’s a prophet. He’s our saviour. Didn’t you listen to him?’

  ‘You’re right. But didn’t you think you could send word to mother that you were well and being looked after properly?’

  ‘We’re not allowed,’ she said without thinking, but amended this. ‘Why would we? The Spirit of Eon, may he prosper, looks after everybody. We trust him that he will look after everybody. And that includes mother. He will eliminate poverty from the world, no child will go hungry or die of cold. Don’t you see?’

  ‘It can’t do any harm if we just write her a line to tell her we’re well.’ Bertha looked at her sister obliquely before asking how would they send the letter. Her sister explained that she could bribe a maid to send it. But she will be sacked, Bertha said. You understand that in an orphanage like ours there have to be strict rules. Yes of course, Martha nodded, adding, but we will be very careful. She finally agreed, and they sat together and composed an uncompromising letter. Martha then gave a kitchen maid a glass necklace and pleaded with her to post it.

  A couple of days after the first brief note arrived, Emma Klight received a much longer one from the younger girl. Irene marvelled at how thoughtful an eleven year old girl could be. She read quite a lot between the lines, which, presumably Emma did not. They were virtual prisoners in St Albans, in a place called Aztalan. She was not sure whether the Prophet was evil or deluded. She described how well he looked after them all, but they had to work, for the Spirit of Eon has no time for idleness. He made them satisfy the lust of men, which made them suffer both physically and mentally, but the Prophet had assured them of the good that followed suffering. A raging storm is followed by rains which help things grow. Without mentioning Bertha, she explained that most girls did not see
their condition as wretched. Starving was wretched, shivering of cold, going barefoot in the snow was wretched. Allowing men to penetrate them was nothing in comparison. The Spirit of Eon sanctioned it. But she, Martha, suspected that what Father Hiram was doing was misguided. The most interesting thing was a sheet she had torn off a ledger, listing big sums of ten thousand dollars and more paid to Aztalan from American companies. She explained that she knew a few secrets but was not going to write about them. Please come and rescue us from these evil men. If it was true that they were evil, she was so confused.

  Irene was aware of the rumours now circulating: girls and young woman were being trafficked into the United States of America. It was quite legitimate for agents to negotiate for brides for lone homesteaders who were willing to pay well for a wife and someone who was willing to help do the hard work. Some very powerful men were also on the look-out for well brought-up English roses to show to their friends (and enemies.) The many dancing halls which had mushroomed up to cater for the needs of frontiersmen and gold prospectors needed a constant supply of dancers and pleasure girls. It seemed that there were people operating in London and its surroundings making a fortune in this trade, much of it illegal. She was convinced that Hiram J. Bleek Junior and his partner Lord Maldicott were involved in this at Aztalan.

  Irene decided to pay a visit to Holmes who listened to her very attentively. We need to do something, he said pursing his lips, for he knew that there would be a lot of resistance from Labalmondière. He had been overheard recently saying that if there were people willing to take the dregs of society out of the country they deserved a medal, and not being hounded. Lord Harcourt, the Home Secretary, never took a vital decision before consulting with his ineffective Police Commissioner. Mycroft’s Viscount Ridley was below Harcourt in the pecking order, but sometimes he craftily went against his will when he was convinced that something needed to be done. Sherlock said he would talk to his brother. Irene, like Holmes, knew that the complex Frederick Abberline was not untouched by corruption but they also knew that he hated crimes against women and children. Could the Viscount and Abberline be brought into this?