Against the Brotherhood

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  I glowered. “I can’t have that.”

  “No, you certainly cannot. So it would be worthwhile for you to give me an answer in the affirmative.” He watched me closely, though he made it appear he had no interest in me at the moment.

  “This man, then, the Scotsman. What would I have to do?” I begrudged the question as if I disliked having my hand exposed.

  “Read the document he carries and return here in advance of him with all the details I have stipulated. I will need to know before the Prime Minister has read it what is contained in it.” His answer was swift.

  “And the Scotsman would not have to have an... accident?” I was pleased at how avaricious I sounded, and how unprincipled.

  “No; in fact he must not be allowed to suspect anything. If he has the least suspicion that his mission has been compromised, he will make this known to those around him and that would be worse for my purpose than having the document arrive here without benefit of discovering its contents.”

  “What sort of document is it?” I asked, anticipating a lie for my answer. I was not disappointed.

  “I have no idea,” said Vickers, making no effort to hide his mendacity. “And that is the source of my trouble.”

  “I see. You may need to act if there are certain proposals within the document which would not favor you. That is why you want it examined and your questions about it answered,” I said, as if grasping the whole of the problem.

  “Yes. You see, if it turns out that certain enterprises of mine are at risk because of the terms of the document, I must have advance warning of it in order to minimize the losses I would suffer because of it. Surely in your factoring for cotton buyers, there have been times when a little advance knowledge has saved you from serious difficulties.” This last was another open appeal to Jeffries’ capacity for larceny.

  “It would be a challenge to try to discover the details of the document,” I said, as if warming to the prospect. “It might even be that some of the information could be turned to my advantage.”

  “It is possible,” seconded Vickers, again offering his temptation.

  I took more of the gin in the glass Holt brought than was prudent, and hoped as I did that it would not go to my head. “Fifty pounds, perhaps sixty, to go to Bavaria and deal with this Scotsman and the document he carries.”

  “That is the enterprise, yes,” said Vickers. “And if you can turn your labor to your advantage, so much the better.”

  It struck me then that Vickers was planning to have me—as Jeffries—killed at the conclusion of the venture; he had no other reason to be so expansive and helpful as he made himself appear if his intentions were less fatal; I tried to look more fuddled than I was, and slurred my words when I said, “Then you had better tell me when you expect me to leave, so I can be ready betimes.”

  “I think there is a packet leaving tomorrow evening for Amsterdam. If you take the train down tomorrow, you will arrive in plenty of time to be aboard her.” He clapped his hands together. “The sooner you begin, the sooner the money is yours.”

  “Amsterdam is a strange port for Bavaria,” I remarked.

  “You do not want to go the obvious way,” said Vickers. “In case your actions are traced later, you would not like the destination and purpose of your travels to be too readily apparent.”

  “Yes, I take your meaning. Very well, Amsterdam it is,” I agreed, doing my best to seem eager for the work. “But I will have to call upon solicitor James in the morning, to inform him I will shortly have the money he has demanded of me.”

  “Of course,” Vickers agreed, so quickly that I was certain that my impression of his intentions where I was concerned were correct. “Do that. And prepare a note for any relative you might want to be alerted to your whereabouts. Your half-brother, for instance, may want to know where you have gone. To say nothing of your wife; you would not want her to worry.” He put his hands on the arms of the chair. “I will see that they are delivered at once.”

  “Good of you,” I said, lifting the glass to him and steeling myself for the hideous stuff.

  “I will meet you here at eleven in the morning. I will accompany you to your train and I will give you your instructions then, and all the money you will need for your traveling.” He rose from his chair in a single energetic movement. “Until then, let me congratulate you on your decision. You have made a wise bargain.” He held out his hand, and I did my best to hide my reluctance as I took it.

  “It’s a privilege to be doing work for a fine gentleman like yourself, Mister Vickers. You won’t have any cause to regret it; my word on it.” I tried to make it sound as if I was completely won over, but I feared that my inward consternation was not adequately disguised.

  “Sleep well, Mister Jeffries,” said Vickers. “You will need to be alert tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take myself off at once, if it please you, sir.” I bowed my head slightly to him and made myself smile ingratiatingly.

  When Vickers strolled out of the taproom, I felt a pall had been lifted from the place. The fire seemed to burn more brightly, the lamps were cheerier than they had been while Vickers occupied the place.

  I glanced toward Holt and saw him shake his head once as if in sympathy or unhappiness. I discovered in myself an urge to tell the man I was not deceived by the blandishments and tantalization offered by Vickers, but I was able to stop myself in time. I tossed him a thr’penny bit and left the taproom whistling.

  Once in my room, I began to make a number of notes to myself, which I quickly destroyed as it occurred to me that I might well still be observed and subject to unwelcome scrutiny by Vickers’ agents; if I were foolish enough to make a record of my impressions and thoughts, I might not be alive come morning. As I burned the last of these notes in the candle, I heard a sharp rap at my door. “A moment,” I called out, and put the ashes into the pocket of my coat so as not to draw attention to what I had been doing. I made a point of taking my pistol as I went to the door.

  The elderly man with the Devonshire accent stood in the doorway, a cordial smile on his pinched features. He wore a hacking jacket of west-country weave, as if he had just come to town for the day. His breeches were chestnut-colored and his shirt was so white he could not have ridden here directly. The waistcoat was of a tapestry brocade. The country squire-scholar to the life. “Good evening, Mister Jeffries. I am informed that you have agreed to undertake a short journey on Mister Vickers’ behalf.”

  “That I have,” I said, making no move to invite him into the room, or to apologize for my pistol. “Though I don’t know what business it is of yours.”

  “Ah, Mister Jeffries,” said the Devon man, “I don’t mean to intrude in your affairs, but I would appreciate a minute of your time. You follow the stars, and when a man commits himself to a venture of so uncertain a nature, I would hope he would allow his stars to guide him.” He moved nearer so that I would be forced to admit him or close the door in his face.

  I was curious about the man and his purpose for coming, so I gracelessly held the door open for him, and indicated the single chair in the room; I went and sat on the corner of the bed. “What’s this about, then? And tell me quickly. I don’t have hours to spare.”

  “I have reviewed the information you provided me in regard to your birth, and I wished to remind you that there is a very powerful transit coming up in regard to your natal sun.” He continued to smile at me as if he were a painted puppet.

  “Yes,” I said, wondering what this man was actually looking for, as it certainly was not to inform me of what I presumably already knew. “And they will be most powerful on the eleventh of next month.”

  “And the twelfth,” said the Devon man. “I hope you will let me offer you a little advice in this regard.” He folded his hands, looking for all the world like a small, earnest, nearsighted animal with glasses p
erched on his nose.

  “What do you want to tell me?” I asked, beginning to think the man’s naiveté was genuine.

  “That it would be folly for you to suppose you may use the favorable conditions of the stars to push for advantage with Mister Vickers. He has much more at his command than the influences of Jupiter and Mars. He will not excuse any lapse on your part, once he has entrusted you with a task.” He scowled and looked down at the toe of his polished boot. “Play him false and you will suffer for it as you have never imagined possible.”

  “Very well,” I said. So this was what the man was doing—delivering a threat for Vickers.

  “He has many servants in this world; some of them are in Germany as well as France. Do not think you will be unobserved while you are on this mission for him. And if you think to escape him, you will discover that there is no place on earth he cannot reach you and exact vengeance for your betrayal.”

  “I will strive to remember that,” I said, as a grue slid down my spine. I had no doubt that this last was true.

  “He is a very powerful force in the world,” the Devon man said, for emphasis. “Keep that in mind.” He rose from the creaking chair. “You might want to read the accounts in the papers two years ago of Henry Gordon-Hughes. There is coverage of the case in the Times. It would be instructive to you to familiarize yourself with the case.” He went to the door and opened it.

  “Henry Gordon-Hughes,” I repeated as if the name were strange to me, though I recalled the dreadful matter well enough: Henry Gordon-Hughes was found on a stretch of sand by the North Sea in Holland. He had been flayed alive.

  “Yes. He failed to complete a mission for Mister Vickers.” And with that, the man with the Devonshire accent was gone, leaving me with a number of distressing thoughts to bedevil my sleep.

  FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS:

  M.H. sustained a visit from Miss Roedale of Twyford shortly before noon; she was much distressed that her fiancé has been called away from her at this time. It appears that there is to be an important gathering of her family which G. was supposed to attend and now will not be able to. Miss Roedale informed M.H. that she had not anticipated such disruptions in her life when she learned that G. worked for a member of the government. M.H. did what he could to assure the young woman that this mission could not be helped or set aside, which somewhat mollified the young lady.

  “I AM SORRY, my dear Guthrie,” said Mycroft Holmes the next morning as he arrived at the chamber of Solicitor James about twenty minutes after I had sent word through James that it was urgent I see him. “I would have been here earlier, but I did not want to attract any undue attention to our meeting here. And I was inconvenienced when I found my flat had been thoroughly and messily searched when I returned from my club last night. Tyers was visiting his mother at the time, and that left the culprits free to cast about like wild men.”

  “Good God,” I said in dismay. “Was anything of value taken?”

  “Not that I have been able to determine after a cursory examination. Tyers is setting the place to rights now, and I will learn more later.” He took my note from his pocket. “So Vickers wants to send you to Germany today. He is not taking any chances that you might change your mind, or have the opportunity to learn too much to his disadvantage.”

  “So it seemed to me,” I agreed, trying to put as good a face upon matters as I could. “He has already done all that he can to ensure that I will be beholden to him.”

  “And he will try to do more,” said Mycroft Holmes. “It has long been his pattern to bind his servants to him with fear and indebtedness of all kinds. You will have to make it seem you are willing to be one of his creatures.” He paced down the room, hands clasped behind his back. “I can only think it is indeed the Freising Treaty he is seeking to obtain, and that is not welcome intelligence.”

  “What is it about this treaty that troubles you so much in this regard?” I asked.

  Mycroft Holmes halted and gave me a long, direct stare. “This treaty may not be particularly significant in and of itself, but there are ramifications to it that cause me the gravest concern. This treaty may be the last chance to prevent a destructive war that could tear apart half of Europe. I dare say it may drag us into another calamity like the Crimea. And it is all the result of folly.” He took a cigar from his case and returned the case to the inside pocket of his coat. “Nations, very much like people, need to grow.”

  I watched Holmes, wondering if he intended this last reflection to apply to my youth and inexperience. But he was snipping off the end of the cigar, apparently unaware of my presence. As he lit the cigar, he gave a quick glance in my direction, and then stared up at the ceiling.

  “There are so many young nations today,” he explained, luxuriating in the first puff of rum-flavored smoke. “Some are not much more than children in the scheme of things. In the past such new nations looked to older, wiser states for direction, and to curb their impetuousness. But not now, not with the powerful German states uniting under the Prussian banner and the hand of Otto von Bismarck. This rapid emergence has been at the expense of the Hapsburgs. Austria as we knew it is fading rapidly, and it is being supplanted by a nation with no tradition of responsible government, much less any diplomatic sagacity.” He studied the graceful arabesques from the glowing tip of his cigar as if a code were hidden there that he might break.

  Although I had not yet fully grasped the extent to which my employer was involved in foreign affairs, I sensed that he had more than an academic interest in European developments. When he ventured nothing more, I asked, “Is there to be a treaty between Germany and Austria?”

  “Actually, no. Their problems cannot yet be addressed. There are other, more pressing matters to be settled before those questions may be answered.” He flicked the ash off his cigar. “This treaty was negotiated by England as a neutral party in order to prevent a particularly disruptive war from erupting in the Balkans. A most unsatisfactory region, the Balkans: everyone is eager to rule himself for the specific purpose of being free to slaughter his neighbor.”

  “If the region is as volatile as you say, why should we bother with such pugnacious peoples?” I asked. It hardly seemed worth the effort to me.

  Mister Holmes sighed and commenced to twirl his watch fob. “Yes. Ordinarily it would be a useless venture. But their interminable struggles do not involve only themselves. Every nation in the area, including Italy, feels the need to demonstrate its influence in the disputes. More than that, they all fear loss of importance should they fail to take action. The great powers are trapped by their sense of national honor as well as their fear of appearing weak or indecisive. Thus they mobilize their armies over questions of endless dilemmas of regional borders and the duty charged on fox pelts.”

  “But surely,” I began, hoping to glean some reason from what he had said, “this need not result in war?”

  “Need not, but very nearly did.” Mycroft Holmes stopped twirling his watch fob and spoke more thoughtfully. “Two nations, neither as populous nor as advanced as England, were just on the brink of coming to battle. Unfortunately every major nation except England has agreements that would require them to intervene in this conflict. None of them felt secure enough to turn away from the impending crisis.”

  I took up his tone with more indignation. “And because a handful of hill-people cannot agree on their—”

  “This was not simply a matter of a few peasants potting away at one another. We could have had all Europe and Russia joining in the argument. We came very close to Armageddon last month.”

  “Then what does Vickers want with the treaty? Your book said the Brotherhood seeks the downfall of European states; why not let well enough alone, and let the war come?” I could see where those in high governmental positions might oppose this treaty, but I could not guess what a man of Vickers’ interests would gain
from compromising it.

  “Ah, that may be the heart of the issue,” said Mycroft Holmes. “He is indeed part of the occult Brotherhood—as you say, you read something of their history the other day—which seeks to bring about the downfall of all royal houses in Europe and Asia. Its goal is the complete destruction of all nations and empires so that they may assume total power in place of the legitimate rulers.” He shook his head. “They must not prevail.”

  “No, certainly not,” I said at once, finding the whole notion dreadful.

  “And you will have the task of preventing their interference with this treaty. For if it fails, there will be more and greater difficulties because of it.” He drew on his cigar and blew out the smoke. “For now the Balkan crisis has been diffused. The treaty we are concerned with gives guarantees by England to one of those countries involved—enough so that they have prevailed upon their smaller ally in the Balkans to give ground. The treaty has been most aptly named the Treaty of Reassurance.”

  I shared his ironic smile. “An interesting touch.”

  “Isn’t it,” he said, and went on, “Our problem now is that there are nations, some who are numbered among England’s friends, who would not entirely approve certain secret clauses in the treaty.” He set the cigar aside. His voice was now more solemn than I had ever heard it before. “The matter is too grave for rumor and suspicion to prevail. The exposure of those secret clauses as we have signed and sealed them would bring about the very war it is supposed to prevent. I have striven too long to permit peace to elude us now. Only two copies of the entire treaty exist. One is safely under the domes of the other signatory’s capital. The other, due to the peculiarities of the messenger entrusted with its safe escort to London, is at risk.”