Embassy Row

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “An obvious diversion,” said Prince Jiro.

  “Hardly that,” said Mycroft Holmes. “Guthrie is telling you the truth, and you should be glad of it.”

  “Glad? That it has taken a woman to tell me you are abusing the hospitality you have claimed to extend to me?” He paced away and returned to confront Mycroft Holmes. “What possible excuse can you offer for this conduct, sir?” The last word became an insult in his mouth.

  Holmes regarded him steadily. “None, nor would I make the attempt if the surveillance were my doing, which, I repeat, it is not. If I were to set spies, as you insist upon calling them, to watch you, Your Highness; I would select them from among your fellow-cadets at Dartmouth, and would encourage them to make a friend of you for the sake of the interest of our two countries. They would not realize they were watching you for me. But I have not done that, nor would I. You will have to accept my word on it, I fear.” He glanced at the door. “The others should be arriving directly. I would not like it thought that you and I were—”

  Prince Jiro was not to be calmed or distracted. “Whether she is one of yours or not, I want her to stop following me. You are all seeking to discredit me, to bring shame on me, so that you may dictate to me how I am to behave. And I will not have it! You are not going to interfere with me again. Is that clear to you?”

  “Yes, your Highness, it is clear,” said Holmes, and added. “Though I fear I cannot do as you command.”

  Prince Jiro stood very still, regarding Holmes appraisingly. “If you deserve even half your reputation, Mister Holmes, you will see that my orders are carried out. Do you understand me?”

  “Your Highness is very direct.” He bowed again, and indicated I should do the same.

  “My Highness is deeply offended,” Prince Jiro corrected, his manner turning sarcastic with his title. “I will not be followed any more. It will stop. You will see to it.” He turned on his heel and went to the doors and rapped once.

  The footmen opened the doors so promptly that it was obvious they had been expecting his summons.

  Prince Jiro flung out of the room and down the hall.

  “Good Lord,” I said as the footmen closed the doors once more.

  “Precisely,” said Holmes, his brow furrowed. “Miss Gatspy appears to have been busy.” The last word was condemnation.

  “The Golden Lodge has undoubtedly tried to force her to—” I broke off, unable to convince myself of my ill-formed argument.

  ”Yes,” Holmes said measuringly. “The Golden Lodge has mired itself in this affair. And what has the Brotherhood been up to, I wonder?” He fingered his watchfob, and might have begun to twirl it, but the doors were opened again, and this time the Admiralty party came in.

  Rear Admiral Sir Richard King was showing his age, though his eyes were keen; his long years with the Indian Squadron had made him something of an expert on Oriental affairs, and he was welcomed for his insights as much as his position. Behind him, Admiral Seymour’s thick-set figure was easily discerned. His face looked to be made of seamed leather, tanned as it had been by the Egyptian sun and the waters of the Mediterranean. Immediately after him was Charles Stewart Parnell, his movements eloquent of impatience. He was deep in conversation with Sir Garnet Wolseley, the hero of the Ashantee War. Admiral Hewett brought up the rear of this fine company; the current commander of the East Indian Station was full of energy that belied his more than fifty years.

  Lord Brackenheath was the last of the party to arrive, and he presented himself with ill-grace to the men assembled. “The Japanese will join us directly,” he declared, as if making an announcement of disaster. “They are still engaged in greeting the arriving guests.”

  “Excellent,” declared Admiral Seymour, answering for all those who had just arrived.

  As the question of seating was arranged, Holmes pulled me aside and asked me to check on the four secretaries once again. “We will have need of their services directly. It would be best if you would put them on notice. Make sure that all the copies are secured, as well.”

  “Three copies, is that correct?” I asked, to be certain.

  “Yes. One of the copies written in Japanese, of course. Which is why one of your copyists understands the Japanese language.” He turned to acknowledge Sir George Tyrell, whose many journeys through the Orient had made his opinion particularly valuable in these negotiations.

  I withdrew from the Terrace Suite and went across the hall once more, this time to find all four men—Wright, Minato, Banadaichi, and Hackett—gathered around the table once more, reviewing their work one more time.

  “We’re down to the home stretch. The Prime Minister will be along in about two hours. I trust we can conclude our work by then. Is all satisfactory, gentlemen?” I asked, feeling a bit unnecessary, rather like a signal man waving on a moving train.

  “Yes,” said Mister Wright, attempting to conceal his excitement. “This is an historic occasion, and it is a great honor to be part of this event,” he went on, as if to account for the hectic look in his eyes.

  “So it is,” I agreed, and was about to turn away when I noticed that Mister Banadaichi was frowning portentously. “Is there something the matter?”

  “I . . . I suppose not,” he answered, his frown unchanged as he stared down at the page. “I thought . . .”

  “Thought what?” I pursued, impressions of treachery growing stronger in my thoughts.

  “I thought that the ink-cake was not so much used,” he said with an embarrassed glance at his fellow-Japanese. “I suspect it is a trick of the light.”

  “No doubt,” said Mister Minato very quickly. “I noticed this afternoon that the shadows lie long in this room.”

  “So they do,” said Mister Wright, ready to settle the blame somewhere other than on himself. “It’s enough to give one the headache.”

  What, I wondered, had truly bothered Mister Banadaichi? There was no way I could challenge him now without bringing about the embarrassment I had hoped to avoid this evening. I bowed slightly. “What would the significance of less ink be?”

  “That the cake has been wet too long,” said Mister Banadaichi. “The Japanese copy might be difficult to read. Too much water makes the ink faint.”

  “I see,” I said, though I did not see at all, for I doubted such a minor matter would so distract Mister Banadaichi.

  “A minor matter,” said Mister Hackett as if reading my thoughts, and stared in the direction of the door. “Not enough to keep you here.”

  “I would think not,” I agreed at once, and allowed myself to be persuaded to leave.

  “Is all well?” my employer asked as I returned to his side.

  I did not answer at once. “I trust it is,” I said at last, with a flatness of tone I hoped would catch Holmes’ attention.

  His heavy brows lifted, and though he said nothing at that juncture, he clearly indicated to me he was aware that I was bothered. “A matter concerning Prince Jiro, do you suppose?”

  “I am uncertain,” I admitted, keeping my voice low.

  “Did he visit them?” Holmes went on.

  “They did not say so,” I responded. “It would be unusual if he had taken so improper a step as that.”

  Holmes nodded. “Just so. Which is one reason I cannot shut it from my mind that he has done more than upbraid me.” He glanced over at Lord Brackenheath. “He may still cut up rough over this agreement. I am concerned about him. Having the Prince with a ferret in his drawers is bad enough, but that fool Brackenheath may well try to capitalize on this misfortune and scuttle this agreement for good and all, in spite of the best efforts of King and Seymour and Hewett. And then where should we be in the Pacific? We cannot petition the Americans and Canadians to divide their ships and send half of them across the world for England’s convenience.”

  “Is there nothing you can say to him?” I asked, more for form’s sake than in the hope of any positive response.

  “If I had time I might have done it by co
ntraries—convince him that in supporting the agreement, Lord Brackenheath would hasten the day when England would no longer have to deal with Orientals, but would exert her rightful place in the world, and the rest of that Pukka Sahib blather.” He frowned at the tabletop. “But no one warned me.”

  “Did you suppose they would?” I asked.

  “I hoped they would have sense enough to, yes,” Holmes replied. He shrugged and added, “They are pouring some excellent Armagnac. How very sensible the Swiss are. I am certain I will be glad to have it before the evening is over. So long as Tyrell doesn’t get half-sprung, it should smooth the way for our agreement.”

  I realized there was no point in pursuing the questions about Lord Brackenheath for the time being, so I followed after him, wishing I did not have to continue to use crutches.

  FROM THE JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS

  Sutton was cautious on his return from M H’s club; he informs me that he was aware of two men watching him, one at the junction of Waterloo Place, the other making his way down the street from the south end He says he is certain they were assigned to him because of how they moved. He claims that he can notice such things in a man’s movements. I will take his word for it, since such things are his stock in trade, but I must reserve judgment until such time as I may observe for myself the men he has mentioned. If they are the same as those I have seen, I will be convinced.

  I have had word again from M H, who informs me that he and G might not return until midnight, and I am not to be alarmed by this delay, as it is necessary to accomplish the task before them. Delays are to be expected, he tells me, when the matter is as complex as this one is. He may well issue such instructions, but I cannot school my apprehensions to suit his convenience. With this flat being watched and the reason for it unknown, I cannot banish troublesome thoughts from my mind.

  Sid Hastings is standing by to call for M H and G at the Swiss embassy. He has put his cousin’s grey gelding between his shifts, so that the watchers will not be alerted by Jenny. I am hopeful that there will be no reason for such precautions, but rather have them and not need them than regret they were not employed.

  “THEN THE WHOLE is settled,” said Charles Parnell on behalf of all those gathered. “What a very satisfying resolution for us all. We may get on with the signing of our agreement as soon as Lord Salisbury arrives.” His satisfaction was as much for his own key role in advancing Robert Cecil, Lord Salisbury, to the position of Prime Minister as for the successful conclusion of the negotiations with the Japanese. He saw himself as the driving force behind the government and wanted everyone to be aware of it.

  “And not a moment before time for him to appear,” said Lord Brackenheath in a tone of ill-usage: He disliked Parnell and all those around him, who were, in his eyes, dangerous radicals determined to throw well-ordered society into chaos. “It’s gone half eleven. We should have this behind us by midnight.”

  Seated between Sir Garnet Wolseley and Admiral Hewett, Mycroft Holmes rolled his eyes upward to express dismay at Lord Brackenheath’s lamentable conduct.

  There was a flurry of activity and the door was flung open by Andermatt, who bowed to the men, and announced the arrival of Robert Cecil, Lord Salisbury and Prime Minister of England.

  The men in the Terrace Suite rose and greeted Lord Salisbury in their respective customs: Ambassador Tochigi’s bow was deep and held for longer than usual.

  “A pleasure,” said Lord Salisbury, holding out his hand to the Japanese ambassador. “I thank you for your diligence. All of you. I trust the resolution has been achieved? To everyone’s satisfaction?” He took his seat, prepared for the ceremony.

  “Yes, I believe the Emperor will be satisfied,” said Ambassador Tochigi. “It resolves our differences to our mutual honor and advantage. We are most pleased with the opportunity to gain the invaluable training this will provide our officers. The Royal Navy is foremost in the world, and to enable our men to train with yours on such ships as we will be receiving is appreciated by the Emperor. Additionally, the trade provisions will allow the opening of Chinese ports in a way that adds to our mutual advantage. This will serve to lessen the tensions we have detected in our dealings with certain European interests in the East. Of paramount importance to the Chrysanthemum Throne is peace. With England’s help, the Japanese nation will now be assured of receiving the honor and respect properly accorded a modern industrial nation. Our united strength is our best guardian of peace, a peace that will serve the best interests of both our countries.”

  “I can see no reason to delay, then,” said Robert Cecil, Lord Salisbury, who had arrived at the Swiss Embassy twenty minutes before and was now at liberty to give his full attention to the agreement. “Let us have the final terms draughted to the end of the page and we will then sign and seal the copies for our governments. We are prepared to make this official tonight.” He smiled diplomatically. “You must be very pleased that our differences have been so painstakingly resolved, Ambassador Tochigi.”

  “If my Emperor is pleased, I will be honored to have done his bidding.” The Ambassador inclined his head.

  Lord Salisbury positioned himself at the ambassador’s side. “The cooperation of our two nations has already benefited us many times before, so it is doubly suitable that the Occident’s greatest monarch and the Orient’s most revered Emperor should wish to bind their two nations more surely. This agreement will guarantee the stability of trade in Eastern waters for, I daresay, a century or more. It pleases Her Majesty and her government to endorse the obvious mutual benefits that have made the creation of this agreement so agreeable a process.” Here the Prime Minister paused and exchanged a quick look with Mycroft Holmes. “Certainly the British and Japanese Empires will share in the increased wealth and prosperity this agreement assures. As Prime Minister, I welcome this as an encouraging beginning to what will most assuredly be the first step in a growing commonality of our enterprise and our interests in the future.”

  “We of Japan are also looking forward to an era of greater understanding and broader exchanges between our peoples.” Ambassador Tochigi matched Lord Salisbury’s tone perfectly.

  Holmes turned slightly in his chair in order to say to me, sotto voce, “It’s all over now but the dancing and champagne.”

  Messers. Minato and Banadaichi were watching closely as Messers. Wright and Hackett put the last clauses onto the pages, and then were watched in turn by Mister Hackett as the same was done to the document in Japanese.

  Lord Brackenheath rose. “You have no further need of my presence for the nonce. I will return to witness the signatures shortly. I fear I have neglected my wife this evening,” he added as he excused himself.

  “Neglected his wife,” scoffed George Tyrell. “It has nothing to do with his wife. He wants to put as much distance between this agreement and himself as he can. I wonder that he was invited at all.”

  “He had to be included,” said Holmes to the distinguished traveler. “If we did not allow him, or some other associate of his who shares his view, the whole of this agreement would be endlessly debated in Parliament, to no one’s eventual good, and the possible discrediting of the agreement itself. With him here, there can be no claim that their point of view was not represented.”

  Tyrell snorted but nodded his agreement. “A sad state of affairs.”

  “Well, he is out of the room now, so we can get on with this signing,” said the Prime Minister. “Billstowe, get the seals for us, will you, please?” His secretary, a man of such careful neutrality that he was almost invisible, hurried to fulfill his commission.

  Ambassador Tochigi leaned forward in his place and said, “I thank you on behalf of my Emperor for your diligence in bringing this agreement about.”

  “No thanks to Brackenheath,” interjected Tyrell with deliberate sarcasm. “The man is positively antediluvian in his attitudes.”

  “Certainly,” allowed the ambassador. “But we have men of his stripe in Japan as well, and Mister
Holmes is right, if they are ignored they do more mischief than if they are included in such negotiations.”

  “Good to spike such guns,” said Sir Garnet Wolseley.

  “It is necessary to do it, soon or late,” said the Prime Minister as he got to his feet. “Better to keep an eye on him, as you indicated; and then be assured that there are no covert acts set to bring all these efforts to failure.”

  “Still, it is awkward to have him about,” said Tyrell, determined to have his notions endorsed by someone among the company.

  “Oh, without doubt,” said the Prime Minister. “But necessary.”

  Holmes had risen with the rest, and exchanged bows and handshakes with the Japanese. He signaled to me again. “Once the seals are fixed, I want you to go in search of Lord Brackenheath. We need his witnessing signature, and he is likely to complain a great deal about this agreement if we allow him to roam loose tonight.”

  “As you wish,” I said, not relishing keeping watch over Lord Brackenheath for any purpose whatsoever.

  “I know this is not wholly to your liking, Guthrie, but I would account it a great favor if you would be willing to make note of those to whom Brackenheath talks tonight.” Holmes was being more accommodating to me than he usually was, and it made me suspicious of him.

  “Do you expect interference?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what to expect,” said Holmes bluntly. “That is the problem as I see it. I have only my . . . guesses, for they are no more than that, but I cannot ignore the dangers we still face.”

  “All right,” I said, and patted my crutches. “But I’m not going to be much use slinking about.”

  “Do your best, Guthrie. That’s all I can ask of you, or of anyone.” He sighed again, and I had the uneasy feeling that he was privy to some intelligence he had not shared with me. At a less public occasion, I might have pursued the matter, As it was, I accepted his instruction with as much grace as I could muster—which was not much—and prepared to go in search of our dissatisfied Lord Brackenheath.