by J. R. Trtek
I sat up in my chair.
“A messenger boy delivered the note to Magillivray at Scotland Yard this morning. As per my agreement with the inspector, he turned it over to me at once. I suggest you read it.”
I picked up the piece of paper and looked at its scrawled words:
Must meet with Holmes. I have the knowledge of where are the additional stores. At the hour of seven tonight opposite Spitalfields Market. I meet with Holmes only! God Save the King.
“And this arrived today, you say?”
“Yes.” Holmes held his pipe and studied it closely. “I received it from Magillivray when I saw him at Scotland Yard.”
“But if the air raid is to be tonight, why would Baumann wish to meet with you during the same evening?”
Holmes gave me a long, cold stare.
“Von Bork wishes to take you prisoner,” I said at last, after revelation had come. “And you intend to let it happen.”
“Yes, I do,” said my friend, striding to the armchair, into which he dropped. Holmes drew the footstool to him with one toe of his new boots and set his heels upon it.
“Von Bork aims to incinerate London, but that alone will not provide him the satisfaction he requires. He must get even with me, remember,” Holmes added with a wan smile. He placed the stem of the pipe against his high forehead. “He means to be certain I witness his inferno at first hand—as one of its victims.”
“And what do Bullivant and your brother think of this latest note?” I asked cautiously, not wishing to reveal the substance of my previous conversation with Mycroft Holmes.
“They know nothing of it,” replied the detective. “Mycroft realised Baumann’s pleas were a ruse, as you know. I am certain he also thinks their purpose is to lure me into a trap. And so, after the arrival of the second message, I reminded Magillivray in no uncertain terms to inform me—and only me—when the next one showed up. It did so early this morning, as I told you, but my brother and Sir Walter were not informed.”
“And you will not tell them of it.”
“No.”
“And you were prepared to leave me in ignorance as well.”
“Because I wish to leave you in safety,” insisted Holmes. He looked at me thoughtfully. “What dissuaded you from departing, by the way?” he asked, glancing at my luggage.
“Intuition, I suppose.”
Holmes nodded and gave an amused smile.
“It appears, Watson, that Miss Lamington’s corresponding facility has rubbed off onto you. Well,” he said, “I assume you will not agree to pick up those bags and go.”
“A brilliant deduction, Holmes.”
He sighed and then once more studied me.
“Baumann’s note demanded that only I meet him.”
“As with countless other clients in the past, Holmes, he must accept both of us or neither.”
“And you understand the possible consequences if you accompany me?”
“I more than understand the accompanying effects upon my conscience if I do not.”
“Very well.”
My friend moved one booted foot, which still lay upon the footstool. Staring at the toe, he added, “Please change into civilian clothes, Watson, if you will, for I am expecting Jack James to arrive in a while with Sandy Arbuthnot in tow. If it is your wish, then we shall live out this night—or at least a portion of it—together.”
* * *
261 The Peshtigo Fire occurred on October 8, 1871—by coincidence, the same day as the more famous Great Chicago Fire. Twelve communities were destroyed, and the area of forest that burned was twice the size of Rhode Island.
262 The Great Fire of London burned for three days in September 1666, destroying the old medieval core of the city.
263 Germany did perfect such compact incendiary bombs in 1918, and plans were developed to use them in attacking London, Paris, and even New York City—by zeppelin, in the last case—but those designs were never carried out.
264 These events are related in more detail in Mr. Standfast.
265 This is probably a fictionalized reference to Sutton’s Farm, an aerodrome in Hornchurch, a town in the eastern reaches of greater London. The field was closed after the war, but the land was repurchased by the government a few years later to become the site of what was eventually called RAF Hornchurch, an air base that finally closed for good in 1962.
266 Built in 1876, Grey Towers actually served as the command depot for the New Zealand Army during the first half of 1916 and then became a hospital for New Zealand troops, as Sir Walter correctly notes. However, Bullivant appears to confuse the New Zealand command with that of ANZAC, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, which fought in the disastrous Battle of Gallipoli. Grey Towers was demolished in 1931; its driveway is now a suburban road known as Grey Towers Avenue.
267 See footnote 212.
268 The craft referred to was probably an R.E.8, a two-seater that served as the principal British reconnaissance aircraft from 1917 to the end of the war. It was generally regarded by pilots as somewhat difficult and unsafe to fly.
269 When, in 1891, Holmes and Watson fled to Europe to escape Professor Moriarty, their journey led them to Reichenbach Falls, where Moriarty separated Watson from the detective by means of a false note requesting the doctor’s assistance with a dying Englishwoman back at their hotel. This left Holmes alone with his foes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: HADES UNVEILED
Holmes and I rode without speaking in the back of Jack James’s taxicab as the vehicle made its way toward the area of Spitalfields Market, with Sandy Arbuthnot seated ahead of us, beside the American.270
“You are certain you do not want your package yet?” Arbuthnot asked, holding up a burlap bag whose contents Holmes had not revealed to me.
“Not at present,” the detective replied. “Where we shall be going, its items would be confiscated in any event. Hold on to the bag instead, Sandy, and have it on hand when Dr. Watson and I meet you at the police launches.”
“You expect us to eventually arrive at the river front?” I asked in a whisper, adding to my query the single word, “Alive?”
Holmes ignored my comment.
“Inspector Magillivray and Sergeant Scaife should be there, tending the two vessels with a set of constables,” Holmes said. “Both Frank Farrar and Shinwell Johnson are to be in attendance as well. Simply wait for us. However, should Tatty Evans give the signal, do not allow too much time to elapse before all of you begin the pursuit without us, if necessary.”
“You’re certain you don’t want the two of us to join the pair of you now?” asked Jack James as he negotiated the busy street. “I’d think that would make it a mite safer for you.”
“In agreeing to accept the doctor as companion, I have already violated the conditions of the message. I shall not tempt fate any further.”
“As if you aren’t doing so already—with all respect, sir,” replied James.
Holmes did not respond.
James made as if to speak again, but Arbuthnot quieted him with a discreet gesture, and for a while the two younger men did not attempt to engage us in further conversation until we approached Paternoster Row, where I plaintively whispered, “At least Martha is safe with your brother.”
“As you may be, old fellow, if you will but give the word. I have always sought only to protect you,” he added, repeating his earlier protestations.
“I understand and appreciate the sentiment,” was my hushed reply. “But I would rather be allowed to stand beside you, Holmes, than be protected by you.”
“Let us say no more of the matter, then,” Holmes replied. “Our thoughts should be aimed at this night and the future of London, not the past in Baker Street.”
“Even though what you do now will only endanger you, to no benefit?”
“You may debark at any time, Watson, as I have said.”
I stared at the profile of my friend.
“If you wish to sacrifice your life, then I may as
well cast mine onto the pyre as well.”
Arbuthnot turned his head ever so slightly and looked at Jack James.
“I thought that fiery metaphors were what we are at all costs trying to forestall,” answered Holmes.
“You are exasperating!”
“And you are most refreshing when angry.”
My friend’s comment and smile evoked from me a chuckle I could not contain, and when our laughter had subsided, I said with a wistful air, “Let us drop discussion of the matter, then, and simply live it instead.”
“Agreed.”
“Time be damned,” I announced.
“And ourselves as well, if need be.”
Meeting Holmes’s eyes, I silently nodded.
Glancing ahead, the detective leaned forward and said with sudden sharpness, “We are close, Jack! Pull to the kerb!”
James brought the vehicle to a halt, and Holmes and I debarked the taxicab some few blocks from Spitalfields Market.
“Proceed to the riverbank, as I have previously instructed,” the detective commanded. “Both of you.”
“One last time, sir: are you sure about that?” Arbuthnot asked. “I know the Colonel is along with you now, but shouldn’t you have a third?”
“And a fourth?” added James.
“We all have our place in this grand scheme,” Holmes declared quietly. “Yours has been given you. Follow orders, Sandy. And you as well, Private James,” my friend said with a gentle smile.
“Yes, sir,” replied the American in a cautious voice. “And you still don’t want the package?” James added, kicking with his shoe the burlap bag that now lay on the floorboards between him and Arbuthnot. “You are certain?”
“Yes,” replied the detective. “Let the items within it prove their value later tonight.”
“Very well,” declared James. “Watch yourselves, gents.”
Holmes closed the taxicab door, and the two of us started down the pavement toward Spitalfields Market as our companions watched us leave.
“And what was in that bag?” I asked as we reached the end of a block.
“Your old service revolver and my Webley,” replied Holmes. “Both are loaded, of course, and there is spare ammunition in the sack as well. I hope you do not mind the liberty I took with requisitioning your weapon.”
“Of course not. Are you certain Von Bork can take you prisoner here in these surroundings?” I asked as we weaved through a bustling evening crowd. “This is hardly a deserted moor; there are countless people about, and subjugating us cannot be accomplished without public notice.”
“The Germans will no doubt have Baumann lure us to a secluded place, and there we will be taken captive, Watson. You are still certain you do not wish to leave this to me alone? I do not believe Arbuthnot and James have started up their motor yet, and even should they have already left, you may still catch a taxicab or bus to safety.”
“You mean cut and run?” I replied. “Certainly not.”
“Good old Watson!” Holmes said, patting my shoulder as he glanced about. “You are a rock indeed. As you are so determined to accompany me, I promise you we shall both escape this obvious trap.”
“But why place yourself, let alone both of us, in such a place at all?” I asked. “If you have launches at the ready to pursue Von Bork when he flees, why not lie in wait with Magillivray, Scaife, and the others?”
“There is, perhaps, more information that can be coaxed from him in the meanwhile.”
“What information could that be?” I insisted. “You have discerned the German plans for this night. You have deduced the probable true identity of Moxon Ivery. What else could possibly be gleaned, Holmes?”
We crossed a street, and my friend failed to answer. Again I saw him look about.
“Do you perhaps intend this as your own, personal wager of combat?” I asked.
“I beg pardon?”
“A trial by combat,” I said. “Much the same as Letchford’s son’s ordeal during the May Day festivities back in Biggleswick. This, however, is not play. And from what accusation are you seeking acquittal?”
Holmes remained silent as we walked.
“It is Mrs. Hudson, is it not?”
“Watson, please do not—”
“Do you believe that by putting yourself at Von Bork’s mercy and somehow escaping his wrath you will be absolved of any blame for her death?”
Holmes suddenly paused before a pawnbroker’s shop. In his eye, I saw an odd glimmer and, on instinct, took hold of his arm.
“If you have thoughts of bolting away, do not try,” I said firmly. “I intend to stick to you as glue, old man.”
“Please let go.”
“No. I believe we both understand what this is about, Holmes.”
My friend stared into my eye for a moment, and then I felt him relax.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Further discussion is, I suppose, unnecessary. However, I shall say this to you one last time: go and save yourself. For God’s sake, Watson, please do so.”
“No.”
“A friend cannot allow a friend to die needlessly.”
“That is why I shall not leave you now.”
Again Holmes looked at me intently. At length, he said, “And you shall not die needlessly. I promise that you shall see the morning.”
“Promise me that for yourself as well,” I replied. “Win your acquittal and absolution, Holmes, and take me with you.”
“Very well. Remove your hand from my arm then, old fellow.”
“Promise me you will not run from me.”
I saw my friend’s expression change again, and he nodded. “I promise that, Watson.”
I released my grip, and Holmes motioned for us to continue along the pavement. As we approached the next crossing, I began to sense another presence at my back.
“Holmes,” I said, “I feel as if we are being—”
“We have been followed for the past three blocks, Watson. Let us cross the street and pause before that bakery. I have a wish to admire the treats in its window.”
I followed his lead, and in a moment we were both standing before the baker’s shop. In the corner of my eye, I detected a reflection that moved and then stopped.
Beside me, Holmes gently smiled.
“You are God Save the King?” asked the detective suddenly.
“Yes,” came a nervous voice from behind. “Please do not turn about. You were to be alone.”
“You profess familiarity with me and my methods,” replied Holmes, who continued to stare through the bakery window. “Do you not recall I am never without my confidante, Dr. Watson?”
“Watson, yes,” said the voice. “I recall him, I believe. There is no one else?”
“No one,” Holmes replied.
“You may bring your friend,” declared the man after a moment.
“Thank you.”
“Go down the pavement and cross the next street. There you will encounter a watchmaker’s shop. Both of you will please enter it.”
“As you wish. Come along, Watson.”
We did as the man requested, crossing the avenue and finding, about midway along the following block, a watchmaker’s establishment.
Holmes opened the door, which caused a bell to ring, and I followed, leaving the door open behind me.
The shop was empty save for numerous timepieces arrayed on tables and shelves, as well as in glass cases sitting before a scratched wooden counter, behind which hung a row of maroon brocade curtains.
While we still faced the counter, I heard the door behind us shut, and then the sounds of a bolt being thrown and window shades pulled down. Turning slowly round, we saw for the first time our escort: a young man of perhaps thirty, dressed in respectable attire, blond and blue-eyed, with a brace of moles upon his cheek that, oddly, gave by contrast an enhanced beauty to the remainder of his boyish face.
“God Save the King?” said Holmes again.
Dietrich Baumann remained silent.
“God Save the King?” repeated the detective.
“Rather, Heil di rim Siegerkranz,” came another voice from behind, guttural and low.
“Hail to thee in victor’s crown—” It continued as we turned back toward the counter to see a familiar face emerge from the curtains.
“Ruler of the fatherland,” Heinrich von Bork added with a sneer as he set a walking stick upon the wooden counter and removed his hat. “Hail to thee, emperor!”271
“I shall not take off my gloves,” the German agent said quietly, “for I will be departing even sooner than you.”
There was a tapping at a shaded window, and Baumann unbolted the door to let inside five young men of seemingly rough persuasion.
“No one else there was?” asked Von Bork.
“Not a soul,” said one of the toughs in an accented voice. “You can take poison on that.”
“Gut,” said their chief as the door was bolted again.
Von Bork stepped from behind the counter and leaned against its edge.
“Ah,” murmured the German as he crossed his arms and studied us with care. “Can I believe that since we last met there have elapsed all of three years?”
“Three years and four months,” answered Sherlock Holmes. “Almost to the day.”
“It seems as if it were but days ago,” murmured Von Bork as the five new men took up stations behind and to the side of Holmes and myself. “And it is not as if we have not communicated in our way, now and then, in the meanwhile.”
“Or felt the presence of one another here in the metropolis,” Holmes added.
“You did not cease to be an instrument of your government after 1914, did you?” the German spy said to my friend. “You continue to play the game of espionage in your quaint manner, do you not?”
Holmes did not respond.
“You crossed the Reich’s path now and then with your code breaking, and it would have been better for our cause had you not, but you first seriously incommoded us when you interfered in that silly hamlet of Biggleswick,” declared Von Bork. “The flight of Moxon Ivery was a setback, the apprehension of Abel Gresson an irritating inconvenience, and the recent capture of our Portuguese messenger a sad loss, but you gravely hampered my own plans with the discovery and seizure of that mustard gas in Limehouse. And now, as winter closes in, I find myself in a place where I am in danger of not achieving my principal aim—all because of you. You have made the situation an impossible one, Herr Holmes. What? You find this amusing?”
