Against the Brotherhood (24 page)

It has been an eventful afternoon and the evening is proving to be more of the same. Confirmation arrived in regard to the travels of M.H. in Bavaria, with the assurances that he would be accorded every courtesy from Munich to Ghent. He will have the use of a private car for most of the journey, and has arranged to keep his accommodation in close proximity to the one in which McMillian and G.
are riding, the better to inform himself of their progress.

He has also told me that his activities are being monitored by a group known as the Golden Lodge, who are rivals to the Brotherhood. He has one such monitor with him in the person of a cadet named Kreutzer. It is M.H.’s intention to be rid of this young man as soon as possible, and if he can, to have this serve a double purpose.

I have prepared a packet of information from Inspector Cornell which I shall have waiting for him in Liege. It is being carried to Europe tonight, to be given into the care of two of MH.’s most trusted agents on the Continent. It would seem that the police have reached the end of their resources in this case and without the help of M.H. the dastards who murdered the young woman may well go unidentified and unpunished, which is intolerable, given what she endured to get her information to us. My report urges M.H. to make his private material available to Inspector Cornell, with the understanding that those factors impinging on the security of the Empire cannot be divulged in a court of Law.

Edmund Sutton was accosted by ruffians as he came back across Pall Mall from the Diogenes Club. He was able to hold them off with his walking stick, which he claims is easier to wield than a sword in
Henry IV
.
Since such activities are rare in Pall Mall, the ruffians fled at this resistance rather than face capture by the police. Sutton says he will not divert from M.H.’s strict schedule, but he thinks that a policeman or two, in anticipation of other mischief, would be a prudent addition to the street when he is about. I have passed on this request to the proper authorities, and I am informed that it will be done.

I had only an hour to spend with Mother this evening, and I am not certain she was aware I was with her. I spoke to her, making the assumption that if she could hear me at all, she would welcome my voice in these last days. I did what I could to assuage any fears she may have, and promised her that she would be in the care of God and His angels, for all the good, selfless things she has done in her life, and the many kindnesses she has offered to so many. The arrangements for her burial are now all but complete, for which I am truly grateful.

I AWOKE SHORTLY
after dawn as if emerging from a vast field of feathers. Whatever was in that little bottle had surely worked its magic on me, for I felt as close to refreshed as I had at any time since I began this devilish mission.

I dressed quickly and went to the washroom to shave. My face had reached the purple-and-mulberry stage, like a canvas by Cezanne; my single visible eye shone out of a livid cave of swollen flesh. The cut had swollen as well, and the stitches looked like puckers, or post-holes for minute fences. I used my razor with care, handling my skin gingerly, for it was unusually tender.

By the time I went into the private car on my way to arrange for breakfast, I was feeling well enough to be embarrassed by my general appearance. I tapped on the door of Mycroft Holmes’ car, identifying myself before operating the latch.

“Good morning, Guthrie,” he called out in good humor. “We reach Karlsruhe in two and a half hours.”

“Where we change trains,” I said, not relishing the transfer of all McMillian’s belongings to the next compartments.

“And continue on to Mainz,” said Holmes, adding with stern amusement, “with new guards. Guards who have been properly vetted.”

I sighed. “What do you require of me in the meantime?”

“Why, hardly anything at all, dear boy, but that you tend to McMillian and make yourself ready for changing trains.”

It was difficult to believe him, and as I went to order breakfast, I could feel my muscles grow tense in anticipation of trouble.

But the time to Karlsruhe passed easily enough, and when we reached the station, we were met by an escort of uniformed officers who saw to our transfer speedily and with a deference that pleased McMillian greatly. They also carried sealed orders that rerouted us through Strasbourg and Metz, with a stern warning that word had come from Mainz that assassins were waiting for us there, and as a result we were to stay away from the place and leave German-controlled territory as soon as possible.

This news gave me a qualm, for I could not envision how Mycroft Holmes would adapt himself to this abrupt change. But I had the greatest respect for his resourcefulness, and I doubted that any machination now could throw him off the scent. Who knows? I thought, this change may well have been at his instigation. And there were the guards, a total of four given the duty to protect McMillian. Two remained with us, one at either end of the car, arms at their sides. The other two were put in the compartments flanking McMillian’s. I was not able to see how Mycroft Holmes achieved his transfer to this train, but I was certain he had, and that he was riding, probably in another disguise, somewhere aboard.

We were under way in good time, and passed through the whole day and the splendid German countryside of the Rhine Valley, with its well-ordered farms and rolling pastureland now dark from the end-of-harvest plowing, in an uneventful fashion except for the lowering clouds which promised rain during the night. Rain was an inconvenience, and given what I had endured in the last week, I felt that if this was the worst that could be offered, I would be glad of it. I had begun to lose my sense of imminent danger, and gain in its place a vague, ill-defined apprehension which was more difficult to banish for being diffuse in nature. But the afternoon went on, mile after mile, with little to suggest that my anxiety was well founded. I began to hope that we had at last won free of our enemies and that all I would have to contend with would be bad dreams. We would shortly be out of Germany and into the rolling hills of France. So tranquil was our day that by evening, McMillian was growing restive again, needing excitement and distinction, and was casting about for ways to bring attention to himself.

“I want to dine in the lounge car,” McMillian announced when I asked him what I should order for his supper.

“Do you think that is wise, sir?” I inquired, knowing full well it was folly.

“I think I am about to die of boredom here, and that if I do not move about I will run mad. In fact, I would
enjoy
running mad.” He stretched, and nodded toward the magnificent river valley through which we were traveling, his expression far from admiring. “I can only endure so much of this, and then I want to burn fields, for variety.”

It was tempting to upbraid him for this notion, to point out that his guards were useless here if he went to the lounge car. I began to think it was the drink in the lounge car he sought more than the food or the company of his fellow men. “You have to think about the trouble in Munich. It would be prudent to remain where you are, I think. I could bring you schnapps or brandy, sir, if you would like it.”

“I want to see other men,” he declared, and added with a lascivious wink, “since I cannot have women here.”

“But—” I protested.

“Arrange it, Jeffries. That is what I pay you for.” He would not tolerate more opposition.

“I will speak with your guards, sir,” I said, stifling an urge to castigate this prideful fellow for his vainglorious hunger for the envy of others.

“Very good,” McMillian approved, rubbing his hands together as if he were embarked on a high treat. “I will want two of them to accompany me to the lounge car. The other two will have to keep watch here. Over my things. They will all have to take their meals later, after I retire for the night.” This last provided him the greatest satisfaction, as if in depriving them, he gained something for himself that was more pleasing than an end to his hunger.

“I will so inform them,” I told him, not looking forward to the response the men would offer.

Nor was I disappointed. “I and Corporal Hirsh will take the duty,” said Corporal Pfosten. “We will see that this courier is protected, in spite of himself.” His bearing was so correct that it was a wonder his spine did not crack.

“I will inform him,” I told Corporal Pfosten. “And if you will allow, sir, I will now go to the lounge car and make appropriate arrangements for you.”

“Very good,” McMillian declared once more. “Get about it, Jeffries. I am about to succumb to ennui.”

“Certainly.” I set off with the hope that a high-ranking member of the railroad staff would forbid this reckless arrangement, making it possible to avoid the whole absurd coil. I had reckoned without the German wish to accommodate superiors. I tried to alert the Germans to the trouble that might result—expressed as my own worry for McMillian—only to be promised that the English Herr’s requirements would be met. In forty minutes it had been agreed that there would be a place for McMillian in the lounge car in half an hour. I returned to report this, making every effort to conceal my frustration and dismay. McMillian was determined to put himself in the way of trouble and I was in no position to prevent this. Worse still, I was none the wiser as to where my true employer had secreted himself this time.

“I will want my dinner jacket, of course. Do get it out, Jeffries. It is in the closet.” McMillian was mightily pleased with himself, and intended to make the most of this opportunity. “For we will sleep in Strasbourg tonight, and then we will truly speed to our destination tomorrow. It is almost over, Jeffries. And then you may be about your business, assuming we do not strike a bargain between us. You will have to take care to watch my baggage tonight while I...” He finished with a flourish of his hand. By which, I was certain, he wanted to take advantage of this chance to be noticed. “Be certain all my things are ready to be carried from the train upon our arrival. And do not suppose you will be allowed to be lax at your post, Jeffries.”

I aided him to dress for his supper, and all the while I kept my senses alert for anything that would portend trouble. The worst of it was that after so much upheaval and danger in the last few days, everything had the capacity to alarm me. When ten nerve-wracking minutes had ticked by, accompanied by two sharp reprimands from McMillian, I tried the opposite tack, shutting out the tweaks and niggles that made me suspect I was still in a nest of Brotherhood members in the same way a man may fall into a nest of vipers. With no opportunity to seek out, or even to identity Mycroft Holmes, I felt truly at sea again.

Corporals Hirsh and Pfosten were waiting when McMillian left the compartment at last. Pfosten took the lead and Hirsh brought up the rear of their little escort as they bore McMillian off to eat in the lounge car, the two corporals as stiff as soldiers in a toy box.

I put McMillian’s compartment back in order, obeying his instructions to make all ready for departing the train. I made sure all his things were packed away with as much care as I could bring to the work. I took every precaution in my handling of his things in case some new deviltry had been recently concealed there. I could not say what I suspected—a dart tipped with a rare poison, perhaps, as the dart that struck my attacker in Luxembourg must have been, or a spider with a deadly bite—but I had no wish to find it by accident.

When I had completed my tasks, I went to my compartment, and for the rest of the evening, I made notes for Mycroft Holmes and reviewed the information in the notebooks I had carried in my carpetbag, and dressed the welt on my forehead once more. It was developing a yellowish-green undertinge, with the purple parts fading to a slate-blue. At least Elizabeth could not see me. Just the thought of my fiancée made me suddenly long for England and safety.

All the while as I went about these mundane chores, I tried to convince myself that no one was watching me, or McMillian, now that we were bound out of Germany by this new path. We crossed the Rhine before ten in the evening, arriving at the station shortly thereafter. From there we were taken to the second-best hotel in Strasbourg for the night. My room was two doors down the hall from McMillian’s, an arrangement I could not like, but knew better than to protest while the guards were with us.

The next morning I woke with the true beginnings of optimism in my heart and the first real appetite I had had since Luxembourg, which I lost almost at once when I recalled all those warning tales which spoke of foolish adventurers who allowed themselves to relax their vigilance before they were completely beyond reach of harm, and paid for this indulgence tenfold. I poked at my food with my fork and tried to rekindle my relish without success.

Such glum thoughts did not possess McMillian, who declared that he had passed a capital evening with the other men in the lounge and had made a gentlemanly amount of money over two rubbers of whist. He was glad to be on solid ground, if only for a few hours more. “For once we reach Metz, we will be as good as on English soil,” said McMillian confidently.

“I hope it may be true, sir,” I said, and began to stack his cases, chests, and trunks, in preparation for our departure to the train station. I could not banish the realization that on English soil there was Vickers, who had started me on my way here.

“I’ve always liked Strasbourg,” said McMillian as he gazed out the window. “It is so ... European. Not at all like England or Scotland.” He indicated the heavy clouds. “More rain today. It could slow down the train.” His annoyance at this inconvenience was apparent in the downward turn of his mouth.

“So it would appear, sir,” I responded, trying not to look at the sky.

“Our guards should be waiting by now,” he said a bit later, with a faint sigh.

“They are a wise precaution, sir,” I said, trying to sound unconcerned, for I was in the grip of a growing apprehension that boded ill. In vain I told myself it was only the distress of the last week that made me feel so vulnerable with no obvious reason.

“Did you sleep well, Jeffries?” asked McMillian, a note of complaint in his voice, as if my passing a poor night would necessarily impinge upon him. “You do not have any cheer about you this morning. Perhaps that cut on your forehead is troubling you again. While we are in Strasbourg you may want to have a physician look at it, in case there is an infection.”

“I slept well enough,” I replied, fingering the cut as I spoke. It was starting to heal and it itched. “And my wound is improving.”

“Gives you a reprobate air, no doubt of it,” said McMillian in disapproval. “Still, you got it honorably, I suppose. That bullet could have done far worse than strike you.”

“Yes, indeed, sir,” I said, recalling how near it came to Mycroft Holmes.

McMillian is unaware of my meaning, but favored me with a complacent expression of his own superiority. “It is good that you realize these things, Jeffries. It bodes well for your continued employment.”

I could not bring myself to thank him, but I bowed, rather stiffly, and went to look over the baggage that must be carried to the train station this morning in order to have it aboard the train for Metz, which departed at ten-forty-five and was supposed to arrive ten hours later at our destination. We had been assured by Corporal Hirsh that another guarded compartment was reserved for McMillian’s use, and that there would be no other occupants of the car but McMillian, the guards, and me.

There was a charabanc drawn up at the front of the hotel drawn by two big, square-bodied Hanoverians, their coats fuzzy in anticipation of winter’s cold. The coachman was much like his horses, a massive fellow, big-shouldered and tall, with a bad limp and a slouch hat pulled down low over a scarred visage. He spoke a fast and ferocious mixture of French and German in a guttural roar which gave me a moment’s dismay until I sorted out his dialect while he lugged the baggage onto his vehicle, securing it in place with a number of wide straps. “That fop of a foreigner get you here, and quickly,” he ordered, or so the instructions sounded to me.