Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs

by Hayes, Steve

  ‘That’s it! I remember wonderking at the time what possible value such papers could have had to anyone but a collector.’

  ‘In that you were correct. To you and me they are merely curiosities, but to a collector or historian they would be worth a small fortune. Far more money than the thieves could have raised to buy them legitimately.’

  ‘And so they chose to steal them in such a public manner because…?’

  ‘Because Christie’s has excellent security, my dear fellow. And the gang had no way of breaching it. Had they been able to break in, locate and then break into the strongroom, I have no doubt they would have done so. That proved to be beyond them. So they elected to wait until they could simply enter the building as prospective bidders, and then snatch what they wanted once it had been removed from the vault.’

  ‘I still don’t understand. What makes these papers so valuable?’

  ‘Mycroft grasped their potential significance at once,’ Holmes said. ‘You see, suggestively the plans and papers that were stolen contained a preponderance of work by architects – Lukas von Hildebrandt, Emmanuel Fischer von Erlach and the like. Men who had all, at one time or another, worked upon the same project.’

  ‘Which was…?’

  ‘The Imperial Palace.’

  ‘The very place we visited yesterday.’

  ‘Indeed. You see the significance, of course?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Think, man. Why would anyone want the plans to such a building?’

  Watson weighed his answer. ‘Because it is a target of some kind? That anarchists would wish to somehow destroy it and—’ He broke off suddenly. ‘Good grief! Are you saying there are plans afoot to assassinate the Austrian Royal Family?’

  ‘Not at all. Rather, there was something else about these cyanotypes that could potentially provide the thieves with what they really wanted – a means of entering and then leaving the palace undiscovered.’

  ‘Why would they want to do that?’

  ‘That is what Mycroft asked himself. The crime itself was an uncommon one. Therefore, it followed that the motive must be similarly uncommon. To steal some of the valuables contained in the Palace? Possible, but unlikely. To assassinate the Royals? They might just as easily kill them during any one of their many public engagements. So what was the true motive? When even Mycroft’s vast intellect failed to provide a plausible answer, he asked me to come here on his behalf and see if I might have better luck.’

  ‘So that’s why you were so preoccupied as we traipsed around the Palace!’

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Then young Purslane here … his presence has nothing to do with Houdini?’

  ‘That’s a point,’ Purslane interrupted. ‘Perhaps you can clear up that particular mystery for me, Mr Holmes. I’ve been somewhat curious as to your comings and goings where Mr Houdini is concerned.’

  ‘Houdini’s wife has been abducted and is being held to ransom,’ Holmes replied laconically. ‘That her abductors are indeed serious about this business is illustrated by their killing Houdini’s personal assistant yesterday evening, though whether by accident or design remains to be seen.’

  ‘And tonight…?’

  ‘Tonight they revealed to Houdini exactly what they want in return for his wife’s safe return.’

  ‘Which is…?’

  Holmes looked bleak as he remembered something the portly man had said earlier. ‘“I am going to break you, and then allow you to carry me where I want to go,”’ he muttered.

  Watson chuffed irritably. ‘Just for tonight, Holmes, can you please spare us your riddles?’

  Holmes’s grey eyes sharpened. ‘This evening, the price the kidnappers are demanding for the safe return of Bess Houdini was spelled out quite clearly. For reasons as yet unknown, they need to enter and leave a certain building unobserved. They have the plans to this building, but so far they haven’t been able to work out how they can get in and out again without being detected. It is hardly a stretch of one’s imagination to identify the building as the Imperial Palace.’

  ‘Then these people were also the Christie’s robbers?’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘And I fear we must take Frances Lane’s fate as some indication as to what befell the spinster they took hostage during the robbery.’

  ‘There,’ said Holmes, ‘you are mistaken, Watson.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘There never was a spinster,’ said Holmes. ‘She was one of the gang all along, and only acting the part. I saw her tonight, out of the disguise she wore on that fateful day. And I believe she is the most dangerous one of them all, for I’m certain it was she who killed Frances Lane.’

  ‘You have proof that she was there on the day of the robbery at Christie’s?’ asked Purslane.

  ‘No. But no one had ever seen the spinster at Christie’s before. No one knew her name, no one came forward subsequently to report a missing person, and no one responded to the description of the unfortunate hostage which was quite fully reported in all the newspapers at the time. All of which leads to one inescapable conclusion.’

  ‘That the spinster never existed,’ breathed Watson.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘The cunning beggars!’

  ‘Yes. But one thing is crystal clear: if we apply ourselves diligently to the task before us, we will save Bess Houdini and prevent whatever these people have planned for the Imperial Palace.’

  ‘In other words,’ Watson said, ‘we kill two birds with one stone.’

  Purslane said, ‘I am completely at your disposal, Mr Holmes. What do you want me to do? Shall I arrange for our embassy here to issue a discreet warning to the Palace staff that an attack of some sort is imminent?’

  ‘No,’ replied Holmes. ‘In the first place, we don’t yet know the true purpose of this business. Is it an attack of some sort? Burglary? Assassination? Who can say, based upon the data we presently have before us? Secondly, we do not want to do anything to scare these criminals off, or force them into the murder of Houdini and his wife. For the moment, they do not suspect that anyone is on to them. Let us keep it that way.’

  ‘I will, of course, have to inform your brother.’

  ‘By all means do so, and as discreetly as you can. Tell Mycroft to put his trust in me, that I will manage this business and if at all possible bring about a satisfactory conclusion.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Our priority for now must be to ascertain the motive for this affair, which in turn may lead us to the identities of its perpetrators.’ He gave Purslane an incisive look. ‘Did you see our quarry leave the church grounds earlier?’

  ‘No, sir. I did what I could to draw that fellow with the pistol away from where I’d seen you take cover, and then made myself scarce.’

  ‘Well, it is certain that they did not vanish into thin air, though that is the way it seemed. Tomorrow we will return to St Petronius’s and see what clues we may find in daylight. In the meantime, you may request that Mycroft open some diplomatic channels for us. I believe we will need cooperation from the Austrian government to get what we require.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘The approximate time of Miss Lane’s death, according to the coroner, and the exact spot where her body was discovered. We also need to identify the enemies of the emperor and his family, and for that we will need someone who understands the political and social situation here far better than we.’

  ‘If anyone can point us in the right direction,’ said Purslane, ‘it is your brother.’

  ‘Then contact him as soon as possible and tomorrow we will begin our investigations in earnest.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  Purslane rose, collected his hat and bade them both goodnight.

  After he had gone, Watson finished his drink and set the empty glass back on the tray. The room was quiet but for the faint tapping of sleet at the window. ‘I think I’ll call it a night, too,’ he said. Gathering up his ove
rcoat, he started toward the door.

  ‘I am sorry if I seemed to have misled you, old friend,’ Holmes said quietly.

  Watson turned, said shortly, ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘By your tone of voice, I would say it is anything but all right.’

  For a moment Watson hesitated. Then he said, ‘I’m sorry, Holmes, but … well, I should think that after all our years together you would have trusted me with the true purpose of this so-called “holiday”. But then,’ he added before Holmes could reply, ‘you seem to have made quite a habit of keeping secrets lately.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I believe you know what I mean.’

  ‘I can assure you that I do not.’

  ‘Irene,’ said Watson. ‘Mrs Hastings, or Channing, or whatever she calls herself.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Don’t pretend, Holmes! I happened to see her this morning. Here – in Vienna – as free as a bird and up to her usual tricks.’

  Holmes studied him intently, then said, ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah, indeed,’ Watson replied. ‘Good Lord, man, why did you tell me she and her husband were finished, when all the time you had decided to give them a second chance? Surely I deserved better from you than that?’

  ‘Is that what she told you?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Those were her exact words?’

  ‘More or less.’ Watson thought a moment. ‘She said you had given her a second chance, and that she would not let you down.’

  ‘She mentioned me by name?’

  ‘“Mr Holmes”, she said. Twice, as I recall.’

  ‘And you naturally assumed she meant me.’

  ‘Of course. Why would I do any…?’ Watson broke off as it dawned on him; then somewhat sheepishly he said, ‘Mycroft again?’

  Holmes nodded. ‘For what it is worth, I was no happier about the Channings’ fate than you, my friend. But there is very little that Mycroft does not know. When he discovered that I was investigating them, he at once saw that he could harness their particular talents in the interest of the Crown.’

  ‘Turn them into spies, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But they’re criminals!’

  ‘That is certainly true. But Mycroft is in the business of information, Watson. He will gather that information in any and every way possible, no matter how distasteful it may be to the likes of you and me. If Mrs Channing can beguile someone of high political or military standing, and by doing so discover something that may be of interest to His Majesty’s Government, then as far as Mycroft is concerned it matters not one whit where the information comes from or how it was obtained.’

  ‘Or how it affects anyone connected to it?’

  ‘Or anyone connected to it.’

  ‘By God, it is a foul business.’

  ‘Of course. But like many other evils, it is also a necessary one. Whether we care for it or not, it is a business in which one bites, or is bitten.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ conceded Watson.

  ‘Of course it is!’ Holmes said with feeling. ‘Do you think the other nations of the world baulk at using similar methods whenever they spy upon their neighbours and rivals? Of course they don’t. And that is why Mycroft saw an opportunity to enlist a spy who might conceivably be more successful than most and, as you say, gave her a second chance.’

  ‘How noble of him.’

  ‘Who knows? Perhaps it was. Perhaps he saw something in the Channings that we missed, something that told him they would take that second chance and become better, more useful members of society because of it.’

  Seeing that Watson still wasn’t convinced, he shook his head. ‘I do not expect or even ask you to understand it,’ he continued. ‘But it is the way of this modern world of ours, and it will in all likelihood only get worse. In any case, we have our own matters with which to contend. Let us be satisfied with that challenge.’

  Watson allowed himself a brief smile. ‘You do know, of course, we are far too old to go gallivanting around as we once did.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Holmes said, brightening suddenly. ‘I promised you one last great adventure, Watson. Well, now that we have it, let us play it to the hilt.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  As Silent as Sleep or Shadow

  THEY WERE BREAKFASTING in the hotel dining room the following morning when the maître d’ came to their corner table and, clearing his throat discreetly, said, ‘Excuse me, Herr Holmes. There is a man here to see you. He gave his name as Purslane.’

  ‘Ask him to join us, if you will,’ Holmes replied, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

  A few moments later Purslane followed the maître d’ up to their table, where Holmes bade him sit down and requested an extra coffee cup.

  ‘What do you have for us?’ he asked eagerly.

  Purslane said quietly, ‘Your brother has given me the name of a journalist who might be able to clarify the political situation here in Vienna.

  ‘Splendid. What is his name?’

  ‘Walter Lenhard. He lives in the Wieden district of the city and works for various free-press newspapers. He is sympathetic to Britain through his marriage to a British woman. He can be trusted.’

  ‘Then we shall pay him a visit directly,’ Holmes decided. ‘What did you find out about Miss Lane?’

  ‘She was found outside a place called Adendorf, as I believe you know. Apparently, the poor woman’s body, while afloat, became entangled in the reeds growing alongside the river. Had it not been for that, there is no telling how far the river would have carried her. Anyway, before being transferred to the city morgue here, she was taken to a local hospital in Adendorf, where the police surgeon performed a preliminary post-mortem and calculated the approximate time of death as ten hours before the body was discovered.’

  With a sudden nod, Holmes abruptly rose to his feet. ‘Excellent work, Purslane. I can see why you were Mycroft’s first choice for this business.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’

  ‘But that, of course, is obvious,’ Holmes continued as if Purslane hadn’t spoken. ‘In every aspect of his life Mycroft only makes one choice, and that only after considerable deliberation. Now, enjoy your coffee while I go back to my suite and consult my map.’

  Without another word he strode purposefully away.

  Purslane watched him go, then turned to Watson and asked, ‘Is he always like this, doctor?’

  ‘By no means,’ replied Watson. ‘Sometimes he is much, much worse.’

  They drank coffee for a moment, and then Watson said carefully, ‘Would you mind very much if I … asked you a personal question, Purslane?’

  Purslane gave him a curious look, then said, ‘Not at all, sir.’

  Watson hesitated, still not sure if he should share his thoughts with the younger man. Then he said, ‘This wretched cloak-and-dagger business you’re in … does it ever trouble you?’

  ‘Trouble me, sir? I’m not quite sure what you mean.’

  Watson looked around uneasily and then lowered his voice still further. ‘Espionage. It is a dirty business, as far as I can see, and one that raises all kinds of ethical questions. I do not think I could stomach it, myself.’

  Purslane considered that for a few moments, then said, ‘Nevertheless, Doctor, someone has to do it.’

  ‘Yes, of course. A necessary evil, Holmes calls it.’

  ‘Quite so. And generally, the ends justify the means, in all sorts of ways that the man on the street is rarely if ever aware of. If we are able to gather as much information upon our enemies as possible and act accordingly to keep our country safe, then we have done our job to ensure the continuation of our peaceful way of life.’

  ‘The end justifies the means,’ Watson mused.

  ‘Indeed, sir.’ Purslane fell silent again, then leaned forward and said earnestly, ‘It is an irony that so many of my colleagues have risked all in the protection of our country, paid the ultimate p
rice for it, and yet they remain anonymous, unsung heroes. And make no mistake about it, Doctor, it can be a dangerous business, highly dangerous – even fatal, if one’s identity is exposed to the enemy.’

  ‘I am well aware of that,’ Watson said soberly.

  ‘Perhaps you are, sir. But knowing that, and still having the courage to take the job regardless … well, those individuals are truly the bravest of the brave.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Watson allowed his mind to wander briefly. The bravest of the brave, he thought. It seemed difficult to imagine Irene … Violet … as a brave woman. And yet in accepting her role of spy, with all its attendant risks, was she not showing more courage that he would have given her credit for?

  He remembered what she had told him yesterday, about making amends. He had found that impossible to believe at the time. But now he was prepared to accept that perhaps she really meant it.

  Fifteen minutes later Holmes returned to the table, dressed for travel and seemingly invigorated. ‘Watson, get your hat and coat. Purslane, summon a cab, if you will. We are going to Enghilstrasse.’

  Watson and Purslane exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘May we know why we are to go to Enghilstrasse, wherever it is?’ Watson asked.

  ‘Because it was there that Miss Lane met her death,’ Holmes replied, as if the answer were obvious.

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’

  ‘Elementary, dear fellow.’ But Holmes said no more until they had signed for their breakfast and tipped the waiter; then as they left the dining room, he explained, ‘The Danube is divided into three sections, based upon the gradients through which it has to flow. They are as one might expect, known as the upper, middle and lower basins. The middle basin flows through Vienna at a rate of approximately four and a half kilometres an hour – roughly half the speed at which it flows through the upper basin, and about twice as fast as it flows through the lower basin. If we assume that the police surgeon’s estimate as to Miss Lane’s time of death is approximately correct and that she became “entangled in the reeds” where she was found for, say, twenty minutes to half an hour, we can, therefore, identify the scene of the crime as Enghilstrasse.’