Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder (15 page)

The following day, Inspector Reid, Martin Hewitt, Sherlock Holmes, and myself took a cab from Baker Street. Hewitt updated us with Brett's recovery. He was speedily on the mend, but not fit enough to join us for the last leg of our adventure. Hewitt informed me that Brett was curious if I would write about this particular investigation.

“Brett had taken his time to write up his side of the investigation thus far, and he asked me to share it with you,” said Hewitt. Reid informed me that he, too, had kept a journal of the events and would also be happy to share once it was completed.

We arrived at the R.G.S. and were warmly welcomed into the event. We were shown into a grand ballroom with elegant maps of the world reaching from the floor to the ceiling. One wall was glass, and led out into an immaculate garden lit with the soft glow of lamps. Outside was a tent where members of the party were gathering, feasting, and smoking. Inside, women in glorious ballroom dresses glided about across the marble floor with glasses of wine and champagne in their hands. Waiters and maids were catering to everyone's needs; the room seemed jolly. At the far end of the room stood a podium, and before it were a few rows of chairs. Behind the podium was something round and shrouded in white cloth.

“Do you notice anything, Watson?” Holmes asked me. I took another look around the room. I saw it.

“The flowers,” I acknowledged. He nodded. The room was covered in the fire flowers, but to add to the danger, the guests were each wearing one. “So they aren't in the explosive?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Keep an eye out for Lord Myers.”

Reid was standing at the back of the room, watching the guests come and go. He held a glass of brandy but did not so much as sip it. Hewitt was wading through the crowd towards the door leading out into the garden. I saw him go through.

It was not long before Lord Myers arrived. A maid ran up to him and presented him with a flower. He graciously accepted. After taking a quick whiff of the petals, he put it into his front pocket and picked up a drink.

“Keep a keen eye on him, Watson,” ordered Holmes. “I'll return later.” I nodded and watched as Holmes vanished into the crowd. Moments later, an announcement was made that Mr Wilder would be coming in shortly to give a speech. The guests outside began to make their way inside.

“Have you ever met this Wilder fellow?” someone asked me.

“Afraid not.”

“Bit queer. He seems to have just come out of nowhere. Apparently he's amassed a fortune in the Americas but wanted to come back to a civilised land.”

“When did you make this acquaintance?” I asked.

The man twisted his blonde moustache as he pondered. “Well, I've not actually met him either. I became aware of him about a month ago. Members of the R.G.S. were invited to meet this exuberant businessman. Naturally his travels are what drew us to him.”

“Everyone here is a member, then?” I questioned.

“As far as I know. Aren't you?”

“Of course I am,” I lied. “I thought I recognised most members, but some faces are unfamiliar to me.”

“There are a few new faces, but this is a members-only club. Wilder must have done something very sweet to get Lord Myers to come. Maybe a few pennies for his campaign.” The man nudged me with his elbow and smirked. Then Mr Edward Wilder entered the room.

With an abundantly charming disposition, he began greeting everyone, shaking the men warmly by the hand, and kissing the women on the tops of their gloved hands. I could see the scar on the side of his cheek from where Goodtree had sliced him and Doctor Jonqueres had struggled to repair it.

Seeing Jackson as Wilder was a most unusual sight. He had, as guessed, changed his hair colour from dark peppered black to a blonde, almost white, colour. His attire was most fashionable. He wore shiny leather shoes with white tops, a green and blue checked suit, and reddish brown gloves. Under his jacket was a dark waistcoat and around his neck a red cravat. He wore spectacles with a bluish tint to the lenses. Everything about this man was completely the opposite of Jackson. Jackson, while bold and aggressive, was not showy. This version was. Perhaps it was the man he always wanted to be. He walked towards me and greeted me with a firm handshake.

“Hello there, sir, so glad of you to make it tonight,” he said to me.

“I'm happy to be here,” I returned.

“Good man, good man!” he returned with a bright smile before carrying on greeting the others.

I glance towards Reid, who stood still as a statue watching the room and keeping an eye fixed on Wilder. Lord Myers was near the door leading towards the gardens. When Wilder greeted him, he motioned for the two to go outside. They started for the door, but then Hewitt made a grand entrance, expressing his delight to see both Wilder and Lord Myers. Hewitt's interruption resulted in Wilder proceeding without the nobleman as Hewitt stuck up a conversation with him instead.

A short time later, the guests had taken seats as Wilder had found his place in front of the podium. Holmes was nowhere to be seen while Reid and Hewitt hung towards the back of the room.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, from the depths of my heart I thank you for coming tonight. It is an honour and a privilege to share this evening with you. As some of you know, I have spent most of my time in the Americas. I left our fair green country for that great American outback - rolling deserts, Indians, cowboys.The Americans, for all their faults, have crafted a wondrous land. Business is booming, but now it's time to come back home and serve our Queen.

“Through some mutual acquaintances, I came into knowledge that was widely secret, that Mr Daniels and Goodtree were looking to sell their company over to pursue other avenues. I happened to be in a position to purchase it, which I did. Sadly the two men were victims of fate. God rest their treasured souls.” Wilder carried on for some time praising the two men whom he had killed, before his ignorant audience. “Many of you know that travelling the Atlantic is no small feat, nor is making your way down to Australia or to India. There's a bounty of wealth and trade that crisscrosses the globe. What I propose is a faster, more efficient way of doing business, but creating a more streamlined trade is not our only mission.

“As I said, I've come back to serve our holy monarch, Queen Victoria. War is nibbling at our toes, not just from outside our borders but from within, as Lord Myers can testify too with the Jewish problem. One of the best weapons manufacturing companies in the country, Burke and Lynn, have partnered with me to take Britain to the next level of warmongering. Our lands will be safe from intruders, our borders will be tight, thanks to my brilliant engineers.” The room lit up in a roar of applause.

I found myself taken aback by their praise for this man. It was no secret that trouble lurked on our doors, but to suggest our streets were riddled with a pest such as the Jews was despicable. I turned towards Hewitt, but he had vanished. I looked back at Reid, and he nodded towards the door. Hewitt had left. I felt a stab of surprise; this wasn't part of the plan.

“It's time for a demonstration!” cried Wilder. He pulled the shroud off of the contraption. “A new form of explosive with enough power to peel the skin off a rhino sixty feet away.”

He opened the container up and began explaining how the components worked. The bomb was meant to be planted in the ground, like a mine. Wilder claimed it could take out charging cavalry. He offered people the chance to look inside the deadly machine. Groups of three or four began walking up and looking inside while Wilder dazzled them with details. My heart began to race as Lord Myers got closer to the piece.

Reid approached me. “This doesn't feel right,” he said. “Look at the way they are all freely tinkering with the inside. If that was to be the killing machine...”

“Unless he's going to kill them all?”

Something seemed to catch Reid's attention. A man leaning against the wall was pulling on his collar. As he did so, his wrist was exposed.

“My God,” said Reid.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The missing anarchists.”

“Explain!”

“That man, his wrist, the marking on it is the same marking found on the anarchists.”

“I noticed the marking myself,” said Hewitt approaching. “I snooped around, there are a fare number of people with the anarchist markings. All were personally invited by Wilder and not member of the club,” Hewitt informed us.

“Who are they?” Reid asked.

Hewitt pointed out six individuals he had spotted with the marking, all of which were hanging around Myers.

“One man said something to me earlier,” said I. “He mentioned Wilder must have dropped him some money for his coming campaign.”

“It makes sense. This is what Jacob meant! Lamech's man, right before he shot himself. He mentioned a bigger game. The anarchists have got their greatest enemy into a room and will kill him,” said Reid.

“It's not going to be a straightforward killing!” said I.

“We're running out of time. We need to get Lord Myers out of here,” said Hewitt.

“The flowers?” Reid asked.

“Everyone is wearing them; is that is their method of murder,” returned Hewitt.

“Poisoned food or drink?” I offered.

“Where is Holmes?” Reid asked

“I don't know,” I said. “I thought he would have come back by now.”

“Doctor, I think you should keep an eye on Lord Myers before he gets up to that machine,” said Hewitt.

I nodded and made my way towards the Lord. He looked at me oddly. He fingered the glass in his hand before setting it down and walking over to me. Crowds of people still gathered around Wilder's machine.

“I know your face,” said Myers. “You're that doctor chap who partners with that sleuth, aren't you?”

“Come again?” I asked.

“Yes, you helped one of my colleagues out some time ago, I remember. Reginald Donovan, the little incident with the missing gem. He said the sleuth could tell the thief was left-handed and had recently spilt vinegar on their hands. Turns out it was the cook who took the gem. And it was all done by examining the box from which it was taken!”

“Yes, that is me,” I returned. “My name is Doctor Watson.”

“Of course, Doctor Watson... where is your friend, the sleuth?”

“Mr Sherlock Holmes? He's not here presently.”

“Is he on another case?” the Lord asked.

“He is, in fact. If you'll step out into the hall, I'll tell you all about it.” He gave me an odd look.

“Why can't you tell me here?”

I said nothing. His expression went from excitement to fear.

“My life isn't in danger, is it?”

I drew near the Lord and whispered into his ear: “Though I strongly disagree with your beliefs and prejudices, my Lord, I do not wish to see you come to harm, which you will should you remain here.”

He gave me a piercing stare. He walked towards the door and I followed behind.

I saw Reid in conversation with an old woman. He looked perturbed. As we left the room, I noticed someone following us, one of the anarchists must have seen us leave. A few of the guests were outside, blocking a secret exit. I told Lord Myers to follow me. We went in the opposite direction and then down the first corridor we came upon.

I told Myers to stop a moment. I could hear the sound of footsteps. I looked back down the hall, and could see a long shadow approaching. I started trying door handles. They were locked. We turned down another hall just as the figure came into view at the other end. I pulled on a handle, but the door was locked. Lord Myers grabbed my arm. I looked at him, and saw his gaze was ahead. I turned and saw, to my horror, the tall lanky figure of the Goblin Man. I could hear the footsteps getting closer. We were trapped.

The Goblin Man slowly crept towards us. His dead eyes pierced me. He held a blood-stained blade. In the other hand was a cricket bat with a number of nails sticking out of the top. Lord Myers turned to run back down the hall. He was out of my sight, but I would not take my eye off this goblin. I heard a gasp. Lord Myers was escorted back around the corner with a revolver to his head by the man who had followed us out.

“Come with usss,” came the voice of the Goblin Man.

We were taken through a series of corridors and out through a side door. The Goblin ordered us to get into the cab. Lord Myers was put into the cab first. The Goblin stood back while the man with the gun pressed it into my back, pushing me forward. I turned to sit in the cab. As I did, the man holding the gun lowered his hand. I quickly grabbed his hand, and twisting it, loosened the gun from his grip. The Goblin charged at me. I snatched the gun and fired a shot. He stepped back and growled. I was struck from behind and fell to the ground.

The gun fell out of my grip, but before I could get it I was surrounded by the other man and the Goblin. The goblin picked up the gun and handed it to his partner before standing over me and putting his foot upon my chest. He rolled the blade over my face and chuckled. With the point down, he stepped off and ran the blade down my torso. I waited for any moment when he would drive the blade into my stomach, and I would watch in horror as my insides were torn out, just like White. With a shout, the two turned as Lord Myers leapt from the cab at them. The three rolled on the ground. I heard a blood-curdling scream as I witnessed the Goblin leap upon the Lord and pierce his right shoulder with the blade. The Goblin picked him up and held the blade to his neck. The Goblin's partner aimed the gun at my head. We were pushed inside. The Goblin yelled for the driver to carry on.

***

Silence hung heavy in the cab as it rattled through the darkened London streets. The windows were covered with thick curtains which prevented us from seeing out or anyone from seeing in. Lord Myers held his wound; the blood was seeping through his clothes and running down his hand. The Goblin sat next to the dignitary with one foot on the seat, his arm rested on his knee, with the stained blade in his hand ready to lunge forward. His partner sat next to me with his gun at the ready.