Vickers regarded me steadily for a short while. “So you are looking for a solicitor? Why not speak to the man who handled the will for your father.”
“Because I don’t trust him, is why,” I said, and let Vickers draw the fest out of me over the greater part of an hour, by which time, three more men had come into the taproom and sat down at tables flanking Mister Vickers.
“A lamentable situation, Mister...”
“Jeffries,” I introduced myself. “August Jeffries. No relation to the famous judge, not that I know of, any road.”
“The Hanging Judge.” Vickers showed his teeth. “Not a connection to boast of in polite company.”
The other three men exchanged looks that were impossible for me to read in the low light.
“So you want to find a solicitor who can... persuade the courts to make some of the funds left to your wife and family in trust available to you for the purpose of bringing said wife and family to England?” Vickers ran his tongue over his thin lips. “An enterprising notion.”
I listened, feeling ashamed of August Jeffries and his plans to take advantage of his nonexistent relatives. “I wouldn’t do it if the stars hadn’t turned on me as they did.”
Vickers fell silent, and now directed his gaze on my eye. “How did the stars turn on you?”
I managed to make my apprehension look like awkwardness. “It is Jupiter and Saturn together. If I had not a Grand Cross, it would not be so hard, but—”
“Stop!” declared Vickers. He looked at the other three men. “He is right; the aspects are generally negative now.”
The oldest of the three, a white-haired mole of a fellow in an expensive tweed suit and the air of a man of some consequence, nodded sagely, and spoke with a broad, Devonshire accent. “That is true. With Jupiter and Saturn both badly aspected, it could account for some of his misfortune.” He put a heavy emphasis on the some.
“But the Moon,” I interjected. “Tomorrow it moves into Aries, and—”
“It is more favorable to your endeavors,” Vickers finished for me.
“Perhaps the Moon is working a little ahead of itself, Mister Jeffries. For I think we can be of some help to you.”
I stared at him, doing my best to look grateful. “If you could put me in the way of finding a solicitor, I would thank you most heartily, sir, and no doubt about it.”
Vickers nodded, and looked steadily at me. “And in return,” he said with gelid assurance, “you will help us.”
“At your service,” I said, deliberately sounding a bit wild, so that it would appear I did not entirely trust to my good fortune, or had taken a spot more gin than was good for me, which was truly the case with the Blue Ruin they poured here. I made sure I reeled a bit as I got to my feet and saluted in very bad form indeed. “Yours to command.”
“Without a doubt,” said Vickers, smiling with all his teeth. He made a signal to the other men and got to his feet. “If you will give my companions all the details of your plight, I will engage to help you out of this coil, if your responses are satisfactory.”
“Satisfactory in what sense?” I asked, my ill-usage only partly feigned.
Vickers shrugged elaborately. “In... oh, in regard to that tattoo on your wrist, for example.”
I felt most apprehensive. “This—I can tell you nothing about it.” Vickers gestured to one of the men, who took a poker and stuck it deep into the fire. No one else in the taproom paid the least attention to any of this. “We shall see,” he mused. “When it is glowing, bring it here and lay it across—”
“What?” I demanded, ready to jump up.
“It will not be necessary if you will tell me what the significance of it is,” Vickers told me as if he were describing a day in the country. “It will spare you suffering, and what is the trouble with that?”
“No trouble, except that I can’t oblige you,” I said, doing my best to sound more resolute than ignorant; I was convinced that any sign of weakness now would set Vickers against me and I would fail in my mission for Mycroft Holmes.
The man he had ordered tested the poker. It was red but not yet glowing; he put it back in the fire.
“Think of all I can do for you. And in return I want only to know the importance of that... unusual tattoo.” Vickers looked toward the window. “Such a minor thing, really.”
“It may be,” I said, swallowing hard. “But I can tell you nothing. Do what you will, I cannot tell you.”
Vickers sighed. “Bring the poker.”
This could not be happening, I thought as the man approached me. I knew these men were dangerous, but I had not supposed they were mad. I could not move from my place without falling into their hands, so I did my best to maintain an outward composure. “I can tell you nothing,” I repeated as the poker—now seeming the size of a loaf of bread—was brought near enough for me to feel the heat of it.
“Suppose we should burn it off” Vickers suggested.
I recalled the scar I had seen on Mycroft Holmes’ wrist, so small I had not thought it worth notice, and I realized it was a burn scar. Good God, had they done this to him? “I still can tell you nothing,” I said. To my astonishment my voice did not shake.
The glowing metal was near enough now to singe the frayed cuff of my jacket. Vickers studied me. “Well?”
“I have nothing to say,” I told him.
“Not even about the Valley of the Kings?” he asked, and signaled his man to move away. “For now, I am willing to assist you.”
I was startled at the suddenness of his offer, at his abrupt change of demeanor, which did not diminish my conviction of his sinister intent. In the persona of August Jeffries, I demanded, “What are you talking about? You were prepared to maim me, and now you extend yourself as if there were no... question, or bargains? You are not a charitable man, of that I am certain. So what benefit do you expect?” I managed to sound scornful and pleading at once, and decided that the hours I had spent with Edmund Sutton were not wholly wasted.
“Oh, there are questions, and you have answered the most pressing,” said Vickers, and his voice was as cold and piercing as a hangman’s pity. “Rest assured, you have given the answer.” He turned on his heel and strode out the door without looking back.
The Devon man glowered at me. “Let’s go over the terms of your father’s will, shall we?”
I made a half-hearted and truculent protest, then sat down again and let them draw my story out of me; all the while I wondered what I had said that had so changed Vickers’ mind. I reckoned I must have given him the response he expected in the denial of all knowledge of the meaning of the tattoo. But what did that denial mean to him?
FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS:
G. has been started on his mission. M.H. told me that he is apprehensive about the assignment for there is much we do not know, and G. is still untried. Once enmeshed in the intrigue it may be difficult to extricate G. from it. If, indeed, we have such an opportunity. So much depends on G. himself.
There was a note from G.’s fiancée delivered here, summoning him to a fete tomorrow night. M.H has sent her a note, informing her that G. will not be available for the occasion, being as he is on business for the government.
M.H. was displeased to read in the Times that there are yet again rumors of another naval scandal. The author of the article claims that an effort is being made to conceal any evidence of wrongdoing, for it is feared that another blow to the government could lead to a vote of no confidence. In these uncertain times, even the appearance of mismanagement might be sufficient to do the government severe damage.
The messenger from hospital informs me that Mothers condition remains unchanged It is a great relief to me that M. H. has undertaken to pay the whole cost of her care, for now I know she will not be deprived of any help or comfort the medical p
rofession can offer her. Had I been the one to shoulder all the cost, she must have had far less skillful care than she now receives.
THE NEXT MORNING, true to my assignment, I left the Cap and Balls with my head ringing from gin and lack of sleep. I could feel welts on my body where it had been nibbled by the permanent denizens of the inn; I contrived to keep the itching from annoying me by recalling all the details I had offered to the three associates of Mister Vickers. They had been very interested in my supposed wife and children, as well as the nature of my fictitious father’s death. As I made my way toward the law courts, I realized a puny man with a beak of a nose was keeping pace with me, roughly twenty feet back. So Mister Holmes had been right in warning me against being followed. I did my best to ignore that unwelcome companion and to keep on my way.
As I neared the law courts, I made a point of stopping men in legal robes, making it appear I was searching for a man to take my case. I was not given a very encouraging reception by those I accosted, which was my intention; I continued my efforts in as surly a manner as I could summon up. Finally I saw Pierson James, Mister Holmes’ current personal courier, coming toward me, clutching a large leather portfolio, his solicitor’s robe so frayed and threadbare at the collar that I could not help but wonder if he had got the garment from Edmund Sutton. He very nearly stumbled against me, and began to apologize.
“I never intended... your pardon, sir.” He held me by the arm to get my attention. Though not much older than I, James had the air of a man in his middle years, and he carried himself with a formality that went well with his lawyer’s garb. Spectacles dangled from a dark ribbon around his neck.
I recognized the sharpness of his eyes in no need of lenses. “It is no matter,” I said, and launched into a request for representation, for I could see that the beak-nosed man had edged nearer.
“A will is in question, then?” said Pierson James eagerly. “Why, yes, I might be able to advise you. If you will do yourself the trouble to come with me.”
“Certainly,” I said, making a show of cordiality that rang false to me, and I trusted appeared the same to the man with the beaky nose. “I am grateful to you, sir, for being willing to consider my case.”
“A man in your position must find it hard to come by representation,” said James as he led the way down a narrow street toward a number of buildings housing chambers. “I will hear you out, without charge to you, and then decide if your case merits my attention.” He turned into one of these and led the way to the end of a dark, narrow hall. “I suspect that whoever is watching you will now find a place to observe the front of this place,” James remarked to me over his shoulder as he opened the door to reveal a fine suite of rooms; in the second of these Mycroft Holmes was sitting, appearing to take his ease in a high-backed, overstuffed leather chair.
“How do you do, Guthrie,” said my employer, regarding me carefully. “What luck have you had thus far?”
“I think I may have been more fortunate than we anticipated.”
I looked toward Pierson James. “Is it all right—?”
Mycroft Holmes motioned his courier away, calling after him, “Do not leave the building. I will need you to escort Guthrie back to the street when we have done here.”
“As you wish, sir,” said James, and left us alone.
“Now then, tell me of what you suspect may be good fortune?” He leaned forward and braced his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Someone approached you at the Cap and Balls?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and quickly summarized my meeting with Mister Vickers, and described his three lieutenants, in particular the older man with the Devonshire accent, who I was certain could be identified. I finished with my impression of Vickers himself. “He has awakened the gravest misgivings in me. I cannot tell you precisely why, but I suspect he has within him the capacity for great evil.”
“There you have the right of it, for I have known Vickers of old, and have every reason to suppose he has not redeemed his character.” Holmes stared up at the ceiling. “If Vickers has been bold enough to approach you now, it must be because he is seeking some dupe, as I suspected he was.” He regarded me closely. “Do you anticipate his return this evening?”
“I don’t know,” I said as candidly as I could. “I do have the impression he wants something from me, which accounts for the notice he has paid to me.” I put my hands into my waistcoat pocket. “I have done as you suggested, and made it clear that I seek legal advice in order to deal with gaining the money I, as Jeffries, believe I am entitled to have.”
“Very good. I think it will be as well that you continue this ruse, my lad. Let them know you have happened upon a solicitor who is willing to undertake acting on your behalf, but in order to accomplish this, you will have to give him thirty pounds.”
“Is that a large sum for such services?” I asked, uncertain of the amount. “If the charge is too high, Vickers may wonder.”
“It is not as great as many would charge, but it is well beyond August Jeffries’ means, and that is all that need concern us at this juncture.”
I hesitated. “You intend that I will have to avail myself of Mister Vickers’ offer for help?”
“Certainly, my dear Guthrie. You will have to be caught up in his plots if we are to learn anything of his intentions, as distasteful as that may be to you.” Holmes rubbed the bridge of his long nose. “I can understand why you do not welcome such a predicament. It is never pleasant to place oneself in the way of harm, or to be required to deal with individuals of such reprehensible conduct. And I sympathize, Guthrie, I truly do sympathize. But it is necessary that we penetrate to the heart of the maze.”
I stared at him. “But these are dangerous men. They were prepared to put a ... a red-hot poker on my wrist, where you made that infernal tattoo.”
“You have my gratitude,” said Mycroft Holmes with such sincerity that I was momentarily taken aback. “They will say nothing about the tattoo again unless you yourself bring it up.”
“How odd,” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
“You have been established as one of a most secret society. They would be risking more than hot pokers if they questioned you again.” Holmes achieved a grim smile. “You are right. The man is dangerous. I have been aware of his nefarious activities these twenty years and more, and there are few men I would consider more formidably evil than Mister Justin Oliver Beauchamp Vickers.” He got to his feet and took a turn about the room. “Odd as it may seem, I am pleased that you are aware of what risk you are running with Vickers. Do not forget the peril he represents, I beg you.”
There was a history here, and one I sensed was particularly bitter for Mycroft Holmes; I sought to learn the whole. “He has done damage before?”
“A great deal of it, I regret to admit,” said Mycroft Holmes grimly. “I cannot be more specific than that now. In time I will tell you the entire sorry tale.” He reached for a bell to summon James. “Go back to the Cap and Balls, and let it be known that you need money to pay your solicitor. Do not be apologetic about it. And be firm in your choice, so that Vickers cannot foist another man upon you in James’ place, though I doubt they would try, now that they are convinced of your associates.” He made a gesture to encompass the suite where we sat. “I will be here tomorrow in the morning, and if you have word for me, come here yourself. Vickers will know this is where your solicitor keeps his chambers; any inquiry will reveal that P. N. James practices law here.”
“I will, and I must,” I said, wanting no part of any more dealings with Mister Vickers.
“As soon as you have some sense of what this fellow is up to, let me know of it.” He looked at me directly once more. “I am sorry that I must require so much of you, Guthrie, but I have no other I can trust in this instance, and no one who is able to gain such direct access to Vickers without attracting unwanted suspi
cion.” He came and put his hand on my shoulder. “I wish I could remove you from this role you have assumed at once, but, alas, that cannot be, not if I am to fulfill my sworn duty to England and the Crown.”
“Is the matter of that magnitude?” I asked, feeling a shock that was also a thrill. “Am I in immediate danger?”
“Not immediate, but the situation is precarious. There are certain delicate negotiations that might be irreparably damaged if Vickers and his lot could have their way in the matter. We must have some knowledge of their intentions if England is not to be badly compromised in this matter.” My employer looked across the room. “I did not think the case was so desperate yesterday, but word has come to my hand that makes it imperative we know what Vickers and his Brotherhood are doing, or risk having crucial diplomacy come to nothing.”
“Of course,” I said, ashamed that I should have allowed my fright to overcome my obligations.
“I am grateful to you,” said Mycroft Holmes, moving away from me once again. “It is a thankless task I have set for you, and doubtless, inexcusable in me to require so much of you. But I fear I must.”
I nodded, hoping to find words to express my respect for his judgment. All I was able to say was, “I will do as you ask.”
Mycroft Holmes rounded on me with purpose. “Then give me your close attention, Guthrie, and prepare yourself to enter the very gates of hell. “ For the next ten minutes he reiterated my instructions, and provided additional information which served to convince me that I would have to persevere in this venture. “It is fitting that you ask questions of Vickers. The character of August Jeffries, being no honest man himself, will question the acts and requests of others, and assume the worst of them. Use this to your advantage, and impart to him the full catalogue of your misfortunes, with as much self-serving remarks as you can summon up. If, for example, you are asked to travel, complain of the scale of accommodations you expect to be given or the time of the travel as inconvenient, to say nothing of the cost you will not wish to bear, and demand time to pursue your own interests while abroad.”
Against the Brotherhood Page 4
