Sherlock Holmes Never Dies- Collection Four

by Copland, Craig Stephen

  “Good heavens, Tommy. What are they going to do? Who won?”

  Tommy seemed oblivious to my near panic. “The officials will have to decide. They will make a decision, and we will all accept it. That is how it is done in Japan.”

  I watched as several attendants appeared with sponges and buckets and helped the poor fellows clean the grit off their bodies and then assisted each of them in donning a yellow kimono. Another official walked in tentative steps over to the Emperor’s tent. After a brief minute in which he appeared to be speaking to someone inside the tent, he returned to the finish line, spoke to the runners and then led all three of the leaders back to the tent of the Emperor.

  “Oh, good,” said Tommy. “They will make all of them winners. That is good. Everyone will be happy about that. The Emperor must have ordered it so. He is very wise.”

  The three fellows came to a spot about ten yards in front of the tent and knelt on the ground. All of them bowed very low and kept their heads and faces down. From out of the tent emerged a man of about my age, wearing a navy blue military jacket, accented with gold epaulettes and a red sash. He was accompanied by two chaps that I assumed were his servants. One was bearing a bunch of ribbons with medals attached, and he handed them one after the other to the Emperor. He laid the thick yellow ribbons around the necks of the three men. Then he turned to his other servant and took from him three long gold arrows.

  “He came with extras?” I whispered to Tommy.

  “Just in case. The Emperor must always be prepared. He cannot be seen to make errors.”

  The three chaps, with their heads still down, all stretched out their arms with the palms open and facing upwards. Into each pair of hands was laid a golden arrow. As this happened, I could see just how easily any one of them could have grasped onto the shaft and driven the tip into the heart or neck of the Emperor. But it did not happen. They all remained bowed until the Emperor had retreated back into his tent and then all three of them began to walk, accompanied by older men who I guessed were their proud fathers, directly towards us.

  “Oh good heavens, Holmes. You only have one scholarship citation.”

  A sharp voice spoke from behind me. “We brought extras as well,” snarled the British Ambassador. “Meiji isn’t the only one who has to think ahead. Here.”

  Grant Munro reached over the shoulder of Sherlock Holmes and thrust two more rolled and ribboned documents into his hand, and then he turned and retreated back into the interior of the tent. The three runners, now all beaming through the remaining cinders that had covered them, bowed to Holmes, who bowed back in response and handed each of them one of the rolls. He shook their hands and bowed again. They departed and walked back to the crowd.

  They were still on their way when someone shouted, “The women are coming!”

  I hustled back to the edge of the mountain and focused the field glasses. Sure enough, in the same stretch as I had first spotted the men I could see more bodies running. They were more spread out than the men had been. The leader I recognized immediately. It was the same tiny wisp of a woman who had won both the Palace race and the mountain and forest scramble from Takeo to Jinba. If she could keep it up, she would win this one too.

  Behind her was a much taller girl. I strained my field glasses on her for several seconds and then lowered them and looked at Holmes. He did the same and looked at me.

  “Yes, Watson. She has the name of the Quaker school on her shirt.”

  “But she has to win before she can do anything.”

  “She will win. Watch the length of her strides. With no effort, she is keeping up. She is holding back until the end. She has been well trained. She knows exactly what she is doing.”

  As the two front runners continued to scramble up stairs and along rugged pathways, the distance between them remained the same. Then they reached the final narrow rock staircase where passing was impossible. The small woman pounded her legs like pistons and kept up her pace. There was no way the tall one could pass her.

  Or so I thought.

  Part way up the stairs the tall girl jumped out of the staircase and onto the jumbled volcanic rocks. Like a mad mountain goat she used her long arms and legs, her hands and feet, and scrambled over the rocks, bringing her to the top of the mountain at the same time as the other runner.

  Now it was an all-out sprint to the finish line. Watching them run together was like observing a sandpiper running beside a gazelle. The small woman took off like a finely tuned piece of machinery and was soon in front. But the young, tall girl put her head down, pumped her arms and soon her long legs were moving rapidly, covering more than twice the distance in each stride as her shorter competitor. She passed her and it was soon obvious that there would be a clear winner and a very worthy and determined runner in second place.

  The tall girl crossed the line a full five yards ahead of her rival. She slowed, stopped and fell down on all fours in exhaustion. The girl behind her did the same but then curled up into the fetal position and convulsed with sobs. My heart went out to her, but then my heart stopped.

  Approaching the tall girl were a man and a woman, both Europeans. I jerked my field glasses up and then put then down again. I could see Holmes’s body stiffen as he stood beside me. On my other side stood Grant Munro. The blood had drained from his face.

  Chapter Fifteen Surprised by Joy

  THE MAN AND THE WOMAN who were attending to the tall runner were the Russian math teacher and the wife of the Ambassador.

  Neither Holmes nor I said a thing.

  “Marines,” said the Ambassador, his voice constricted and faint. “It is possible that any one of those three may attempt to attack the Emperor. If they do, I will give the command, and you will shoot them before they can harm him.”

  Two Marines knelt and raised their rifles.

  “Sir,” gasped one of them as he looked through his sites. “Sir, isn’t that …”

  “Silence, marine,” came the sharp command. “I know who it is, and you will be prepared to shoot if I tell you to.”

  “Yes, sir. Ready, sir.” The lad was trembling.

  Mrs. Munro and Nick helped the girl to her feet and into her yellow kimono. Then Nick turned and walked back into the crowd. The girl, with Mrs. Munro by her side, approached the Emperor’s tent. The older woman stepped back while the girl knelt, placed her hands on her knees and lowered her head. For nearly thirty seconds, nothing happened. Then the Emperor appeared, again followed by his two servants; one carrying the ribbon and medal and one the golden arrow.

  First, the ribbon was placed around her neck. Then, just as the men had done, she held out her hands to receive the arrow. I stopped breathing. I was quite certain that Munro, Holmes, and the Marines did as well. The Emperor released the arrow but did not stand up straight.

  “That’s good, Meiji old boy,” I heard Mr. Munro whisper to himself. “Now just back away.”

  But he did not back away. He placed both his hands on the girl’s head and like a priest with a child at the communion rail lowered his head until it was close to her ear. The tip of the arrow was now no more than a few inches from his heart or his jugular vein. He stayed in that position for some twenty very long seconds and then slowly stood up, turned around and walked back into his tent.

  A collective sound of breaths beginning to be taken could be heard.

  “That will be all Marines,” said the Ambassador. “Resume your posts. Thank you.”

  Now Mrs. Munro and the winner of the women’s race, a strikingly attractive and exceptionally tall Japanese girl, were walking directly toward us. When they were only some ten yards off, Mr. Munro suddenly stepped in front of Holmes and snatched the document from his hands.

  “I will handle this presentation myself. Thank you, Mr. Holmes. But don’t go away. This might interest you.”

  I was watching the face of Mrs. Munro as the change of men in front of her took place. Her lovely face, in a flash, took on a look of fear, even panic. A seco
nd later she had recovered her composure and walked directly up to her husband.

  “Why hello, Jack. This is a surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be in Singapore?”

  “Fuji has a much better view, darling. And isn’t my dear wife supposed to be in Taiwan?”

  “The Baptists are just too boring. I’m playing hooky on the last day.”

  She had only just uttered these words when the beautiful young runner let out a very loud gasp. She then blubbered, speaking with a clear American accent.

  “Mom! You ... you … never told me that my new father was the ambaaaassador! Oh, Mom. This is too much. I’m the luckiest girl on earth. I won the race, the Emperor touched me and gave me his blessing, I get to go to Oxford, and my new dad is an ambassador. Oh, wow!”

  The girl looked thoroughly lost in amazement but recovered her composure quickly and turned to Mr. Munro and bowed deeply, holding her position as she spoke.

  “Most esteemed father, I am honored beyond words to be your daughter. I pledge myself to you and will respect, love and be loyal to you, my father.”

  She stood up, keeping her head bowed. Then she quickly jerked her head up, and a wide smile spread across her remarkably beautiful face.

  “Hello, Daddy. I’m Yuki Victoria. It is an honor to meet you.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  Mr. Munro had not uttered a sound. His bewildered gaze wandered back and forth between his wife and the girl.

  “Yes, zaichik moya,” said Mrs. Munro. “You are truly the child of the moon, and you will go from Fuji on to heaven. But now run along, darling. Your teammates are waiting for you. They won the team prize, and they cannot accept it without you. I will call you when we are ready to start the descent. Now run along.”

  “Yes, mom.”

  The girl pulled up her kimono, turned and ran, her long legs flashing with each stride.

  “You know, Jack, my darling,” said Mrs. Munro. “I really was hoping to save my surprise until we were all back in London. But it seems that the cat is out of the bag, and I am guessing that I have Sherlock Holmes to thank for that. So why don’t we all step into your lovely tent? I’m sure you have a pot of tea and some sweets ready, and I am also sure that you would love to have a nice friendly chat.”

  She strode into the tent and took a seat at one of the small tables. We followed.

  “I think,” muttered the Ambassador, “that I might need something stronger than tea.”

  “Johnson,” he called, and his secretary appeared. “Would you mind bringing us a bottle of the sake, the Kōtei no burendo?”

  The young man looked surprised. “Certainly, sir, but isn’t that the one you brought in case the Emperor paid us a visit?”

  “Well, old Meiji isn’t coming by and Mr. Holmes here has offered to buy a round. Right, Sherlock? So please bring it over.”

  The chosen bottle soon appeared. I recognized the brand from having seen it in one of the exclusive shop windows in Ginza. The price was more than my year’s income.

  “Ah, my dear, wife,” said Mr. Munro. “Up to now you have been a straight-laced Baptist teetotaler. Are you still, or is there another surprise coming?”

  “I haven’t touched a drop for fifteen years. But perhaps I better have one. Perhaps a generous one.”

  “Now, my dear, you were about to tell me something.” He was not smiling.

  “Was I? Oh, yes, about that. Would you like the story from the beginning?”

  “That is the recommended place to start most stories, Effie.”

  “Very well, then. Here it goes.” She took a deep breath and a slow swallow of sake. “When I was fifteen years old the Lord told me that I was to become a nurse and be a medical missionary in Japan. So I went to nursing college, taught myself Japanese and applied to the Baptist Mission. I was accepted and at age nineteen found myself in Tokyo. Within a few months I was speaking Japanese like a native and happily serving the Lord in the mission maternity hospital.

  “We were very proud of the hospital. It was all new and shiny and had all the latest American equipment. So we held an open house to show it off to some of the Japanese bigwigs. I chatted with many of them, and they were all impressed by my ability to speak to them in their language and said nice things to me. I thought nothing of it. Men had always said nice things to me, but that was only because I was tall and pretty and American. But the following day a letter came to the mission office from a General Mutsuhito. He must have been impressed with me because he asked if I could be seconded from the mission to serve on his staff as his English secretary and the governess to his children. I remembered him from the open house. He was the one who was tall and good looking. I don’t like peering down on the heads of short men.

  “The mission people were all for it. The general was a very important man in the Japanese government. He was the son of some daimyo, and the twenty-third cousin to the last Emperor and in charge of a whole section of the army. . I guess the some of my dear Baptists thought I was going to get the general’s soul saved, or something. But having me on his staff really did make it less likely that other government officials would give the mission a difficult time.

  “The problem was that he lived and worked in Osaka. I did not want to go there all by myself. I knew no one, and I said so. But the men in charge were quite insistent and assured me that my friends could come and visit and if I were really unhappy I could let them know and furthermore, they had prayed about it, and it was the Lord’s will that I go there. So I went.

  “For the first two months, I was miserable. I was so lonely. The children were bright and lovely and the work helping with English messages and translation was exciting, and I dealt with a lot of secrets of state, but I was ready to send a note back to the mission and tell them that I had to come back to Tokyo, or I was going home to New Jersey. I was that desperate.

  “The General, who was as noble a man as ever walked the earth, could see that I was unhappy, and he asked me to have a private dinner with him so we could talk it over. Well, by coincidence, out comes a bottle that is exactly like the one on our table now. Same brand. He poured me a glass, and I tried it, and it was warm and delicious, and I thought it was just Japanese fruit juice so I had one, then another, and then another.

  “The result, as you might have guessed, was that I woke up in the morning in a large bed in an enormous ornate room and it was not my bedroom. I wept, knowing that I had become a fallen woman. I did not, for reasons I am not proud of, run away. I prayed the prayer of St. Augustine. You know. ‘Lord, make me chaste, but please Lord, not yet.’ So I became the number one mistress to General Mutsuhito. The other women in the household became my friends, and I lived the life of a very privileged young Japanese aristocrat.

  “It could not last. I became pregnant and was horrified. I told the General. He was thrilled and as soon as I began to show he sent a letter to the mission board saying that he had to go to some distant military base and needed me to come with him. We didn’t go anywhere, but no one from the mission came to visit me since I was supposed to be way off somewhere in the south islands. When the baby was born, it was a beautiful girl and at twenty years old I was a mother. I had all the help I needed and quite enjoyed it. In fact, I loved it.

  “That all ended when the war with China broke out. General Mutsuhito led some of the fighting and was killed in action. I was devastated and very frightened. I had no idea what would become of me or my child. But the officers of his family, sort of his attorneys, I guess you would call them, came to me and told me that I was to take my child back to Tokyo and that I would receive a very generous allowance every month to look after the two of us.

  “I couldn’t arrive on the steps of the mission with my illegitimate child. I couldn’t go back home to my family and my home church. They would be ashamed of me. So I went to my closest friend, Esther Biddle, and told her everything. She said not to worry about it, I would not be the first. They had q
uite a few children at their school who were living with families who were not their parents for all sorts of reasons, and that it could all be arranged easily, especially if I had some money, which I did.

  “And I could not lie to my own mother, who was in Jersey all on her own after my dad passed away. So I wrote her a letter and told her everything, and I said she could either disown me or she could enjoy being a grandmother and loving her granddaughter. Well, I had worked in the maternity hospital, and I had seen how mothers and daughters who fought like cats and dogs all of a sudden became friends and loved each other once grandchildren came on the scene. And that was the same with my mom. She came once a year for a long visit and even was here for our wedding. She told me Jack was a good catch, especially for someone my age. Lovely, wasn’t she, Jack?”

  He had not stopped glaring at her, like an estranged husband in a divorce court, since the story began. Now he stuttered out a response. “You mean to tell me that Thelma, my mother-in-law, knew all about this and didn’t let on a word to me? Say it isn’t so.”

  “Of course, it is so, Jack. She’s your mother-in-law. She’s not going to tell you anything she thinks you don’t need to know. Oh, and by the way, she’s coming to visit us in London for Christmas. Well, anyway, Yuki, my daughter has lived in a home in Minato not far from the school and has grown up there. I visited her for several days every fortnight and taught her both English and Russian, since I speak both, and now she is completely fluent in three languages.