The Devil's Blaze, page 19
Several intelligence officers were examining the boxes of files and folders being brought outside to determine which should be taken away and which destroyed. The victory of His Majesty’s forces over the ill-disciplined louts of Moran’s brigade appeared to have been swift and complete.
While Mycroft accompanied Dr MacReady to the castle’s living quarters, Holmes and I descended to the chamber where Moriarty’s great machine was stored. The protective glass screen had been blown apart by explosives, laying bare the ruined mechanism beyond.
The havoc wrought by Holmes’s ruse had been augmented by further acts of destruction engineered by Moriarty to place the machine beyond any possibility of restoration. The professor had clearly resolved that no legacy should be left behind of his and Kilbane’s achievements in the field of mechanical intelligence.
‘It’s a sad loss,’ Holmes commented. ‘Human progress might have been advanced immeasurably by this new technology.’
I felt compelled to disagree. ‘Personally, Holmes, I think we are well rid of anything that can be turned to such evil ends as Moriarty had in mind.’
With that we turned our backs on the wreckage of the professor’s mad dream of the enslavement of mankind.
* * *
I have rarely been so delighted to return to the homely comforts of Baker Street as I was at the end of the long train journey back from Scotland. Our experiences on Errinsay had taken a physical and emotional toll that made it doubly pleasurable to sink into our familiar armchairs and await the arrival of an afternoon tea prepared by the skilled hands of Mrs Hudson. Dr MacReady had agreed to join us before returning to the scientific work that had been interrupted by her involvement in the affair of the Devil’s Blaze.
Setting those harrowing experiences thoroughly behind us, it was a welcome relaxation to speak of less weighty matters. We talked of our travels, our musical interests and the various merits of our favourite authors. It was an hour happily spent and I had never before seen Holmes find such enjoyment in the company of a woman. I knew that beneath the austere façade he affected, his emotions ran as deep as those of any man, and it had long been my hope that one day he would give them freer rein for the sake of his own happiness.
At last the time of departure arrived and we all stood.
‘Mr Holmes, working with you has been very interesting,’ said Dr MacReady. ‘I might almost say exhilarating.’
She offered her hand and Holmes shook it in a gesture of professional respect. ‘Renewing our brief acquaintance has indeed proved a distinct pleasure.’
As she moved to leave, Dr MacReady paused in the doorway to look back. ‘If you feel the need to contact me in future, for any reason at all, I’m sure you’ll know how to find me.’
‘Indeed I shall.’
The door closed and we heard her footsteps descending the stairway to the street outside. Holmes flung himself into his armchair and reached for a newspaper. I snatched it away and tossed it aside, much to his consternation.
‘Holmes, is that all you have to say to the lady?’
He appeared genuinely puzzled. ‘What more would you have me say?’
I eyed him sternly. ‘Holmes, I never thought I should have the occasion to say this to you, but you are a fool.’
I noted a perceptible flinch. ‘I find that rather uncalled for,’ he responded stiffly.
‘Good heavens, man! She saved both our lives!’
‘I believe I have expressed my appreciation of that fact.’
Taking a deep breath, I decided to renew my assault upon his complacency from a different angle. ‘Tell me, do you expect ever again to encounter a lady of such intelligence, courage and resourcefulness?’
‘I should say the odds are very much against such an eventuality.’
‘Then how, by all that’s holy, can you simply let her walk out of your life, perhaps forever?’
There was an extended pause during which Holmes appeared to be digesting the import of my words. A tiny crease formed between his brows, which in my mind I likened to the first crack in a fortress wall under artillery bombardment. At length he spoke.
‘Do I understand that you wish me to enter into some sort of romantic liaison with the lady?’
By this point I could scarcely contain my exasperation. ‘You might at least invite her to dinner. Is that too much to expect? I believe you would find her to be a kindred spirit. You may not be aware of it, but she, like you, lost someone especially dear to her in the last war. She too has long believed that particular door to be closed.’
Holmes fixed me with a scrutinising stare. ‘It is possible that you mean well, Watson, but I can’t avoid the suspicion that you are seeking some means to ease your own conscience, so that when you abandon me for your new life with Miss Preston you will not feel any pang of regret at leaving me here in desolate loneliness.’
I could not deny that he might have scored a point there, but I was not to be diverted. ‘Certainly I do not wish to see this apartment become a museum and you one of the exhibits. Such an end would not be worthy of you.’
Holmes sighed deeply and spread his hands before him. ‘My life, outside of your welcome support and companionship, has been one of solitude and danger. Surely that is no environment for a woman, no matter how capable she may be.’
‘It need not always be so,’ I persisted. ‘With your many gifts you could in the future find other avenues of employment – music, or pure scientific research, for example.’
‘You are talking about retirement.’ He shook his head. ‘I foresee no such leisure for me, no peaceful twilight. A career like mine can end in only one way and I believe that will involve a final confrontation with Professor Moriarty.’
‘Moriarty? Then you do mean to hunt him down?’
‘That is my fixed intent.’
‘But how? Where?’
‘You surely did not think he had retired to a villa somewhere to lick his wounds?’ Holmes clapped a hand down on the arm of his chair. ‘No, the professor is active as never before, playing his final card to the best advantage.’
‘I assume you refer to that one remaining vial of phlog-iston. But surely he no longer has the resources at his command to develop it into the weapon he described to us.’
‘A form of the fiery compound that could be dispersed over a wide area, exposing whole populations to its dire effects, with ignition at his radio command. That was indeed his ambition.’
‘To achieve that would take a team of expert scientists and a huge well-equipped laboratory, all of which have been taken away from him.’
‘Which is why his plan will be to sell the phlogiston to someone who has all those facilities and more at his command and would pay almost any price to lay his hands on so potentially devastating a weapon.’
‘You are referring, I take it, to Hitler. Yes, that madman would take a sick delight in wielding that sort of power.’
‘With sufficient wealth provided from the coffers of the Reich, Moriarty would be well able to rebuild his criminal empire, with the added satisfaction of visiting a fiery revenge upon the homeland that has turned against him.’
‘But if Moriarty has taken refuge in Germany, then he is already beyond our reach.’
‘Recall, Watson, what Moriarty told us of the Nazi state: that he himself would be outside the protection of the law there. No, I do not believe he will allow himself to fall into the clutches of the Fuehrer.’
‘In that case, where is he?’
‘In a neutral setting where a deal may be negotiated, a place where all those who wish to keep their ill-gotten gains secure from scrutiny will find banks eager to do business with them. I am quite certain that Moriarty is at this moment in Switzerland making contact with agents of the Reich.’
‘Holmes, that is a dire possibility. Can we intercept him in time?’
At that moment the phone rang. Holmes snatched it up, listened intently, then made a brief response before replacing the receiver.
‘That was Mycroft. A plane is ready for us even now,’ he informed me with satisfaction. ‘If you would pack a bag with all possible haste, our quarry awaits.’
29 A CHALLENGE ACCEPTED
The two Germans seated in a corner of the rustic tavern in the Swiss village of Meiringen nursed their drinks with growing signs of impatience. Finally the larger of the two, whose short-cropped hair seemed to bristle with irritation, drained the last of his beer and slammed the empty stein down hard on the tabletop. He uttered a guttural curse and growled, ‘Where is he? He is late!’
His slender, bespectacled companion winced slightly. He was clearly anxious that they should not draw attention to themselves. ‘Rest easy, my friend,’ he urged. ‘You know the English.’
He moved to lay a calming hand on the other man’s brawny shoulder only to draw back when the latter rounded on him with a glare of such fury it might have put a regiment to flight. He was about to order more drinks when the tavern door swung open and a bulky figure in a military greatcoat stepped across the threshold.
With a sharp hiss the bespectacled man captured his companion’s attention and pointed out the newcomer with a subtle flick of his finger.
The stranger took a moment to glance around the busy room, then, catching sight of the two Germans, he came straight towards them with a determined stride. Sitting down opposite them, he removed his cap to reveal a head of brown hair which, like his bushy moustache, was flecked with grey.
‘Herr Goltz, Herr Faber, I apologise for the delay. These Swiss roads!’
He spoke excellent German, but with an obvious English accent.
The larger German, whom he had addressed as Goltz, pushed his stein aside and leaned forward. ‘You are Moran?’
The Englishman nodded. With his distinctive moustache and the fact that his padded greatcoat gave him an appear-ance of bulk, he matched adequately the description they had been given.
‘Where is the professor?’ the bespectacled Faber inquired.
‘Don’t worry, he’s close by,’ the Englishman assured him.
‘You have the proof?’ Goltz demanded curtly.
The newcomer extracted a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket of his greatcoat and handed it over. Goltz opened it, squinted and passed it to his companion. On it was written a fragmentary part of a complex chemical formula.
‘This looks correct,’ Faber acknowledged. ‘And the material?’
‘With the professor in a safe place not far from here,’ the Englishman answered. ‘You have the payment?’
Goltz reached under the table and pulled out an attaché case. He snapped open the locks and displayed the contents to the Englishman – a small fortune in bearer bonds which would be accepted by any Swiss bank. When the man with the moustache reached to take it, Goltz slammed it shut and locked it.
‘No,’ he said, ‘we will hold on to this until we are face to face with the professor and can make the exchange.’
The Englishman looked momentarily discomfited, but shrugged it off and reached for his cap. ‘As you wish. There is a car waiting outside to take you to him.’
The three rose and walked out into a narrow street leading off the village square. A Daimler saloon waited there with a uniformed chauffeur at the wheel. The Englishman opened the rear door and ushered the two Germans inside where a shatterproof screen separated them from the driver. As soon as he closed the door the car pulled away.
What the passengers did not yet realise was that the doors and windows were all securely locked and that beneath their seat was a canister of soporific gas that would soon be doing its work.
Seated at one of the other tables, I had covertly observed the meeting from behind a local newspaper. Now I joined Sherlock Holmes outside and together we watched the chauffeur-driven car disappear round a corner.
‘What will become of them?’ I asked.
Holmes tugged away the false moustache that was the most uncomfortable part of his disguise. ‘Oh, they’ll wake up somewhere in the woods with a mild headache and without their precious case. We are on neutral ground, so we can’t be caught harming any German nationals, however wicked their intent. The driver is one of our Swiss sympathisers who can’t be connected to the car.’
‘And there’s been no sign of Moriarty or Moran?’
Holmes gave a frustrated shake of the head. ‘It was fortunate that our OSS contacts in Bern were able to intercept the German messages forewarning us of this rendezvous. There was always the chance, however, that Moriarty would become aware of our presence and keep a cautious distance.’
‘Do you mean he might be watching us even now?’ I couldn’t help glancing around uneasily.
‘Don’t worry, old fellow.’ Holmes gave me a reassuring clap on the back. ‘He won’t make his move in public. Let’s go back to the hostel. I’m sure you’d enjoy a late lunch and I can get rid of this makeup.’
By the time he joined me in the small dining room of the Englischer Hof, my friend had restored his normal appearance. He hung his coat and scarf on a peg by the door and sat down opposite me at the neatly laid table. A pink-cheeked waitress brought us plates of pork sausages with rosti potatoes, cheese and salad, which we washed down with tankards of locally brewed beer. Once we had finished our meal Holmes lit a cigarette and contemplated the coils of smoke drifting through the air.
‘So, Holmes, what will be Moriarty’s next step?’ I wondered.
‘I always judged it unlikely he could be lured into any sort of trap,’ Holmes mused, ‘but I still hold out the hope that my mere presence will flush him out. I have dismantled his criminal organisation, brought ruin to his plans, and now I have cut off his intended means of finance. His desire for personal vengeance will be close to boiling point.’
‘But, Holmes, the danger to you in such a stratagem…’
‘Must be risked,’ he stated firmly. ‘Even without the last supply of phlogiston Moriarty would represent a menace to the interests of every decent society. With it he might yet incite horror on a global scale while setting himself up in a new base of operations beyond our reach.’
At this point a fair-haired boy of about ten years old entered the room, looked around and made his way to our table.
‘You are Mr Sherlock Holmes?’ he asked my friend diffidently.
‘Indeed I am,’ Holmes answered. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘A gentleman outside asked me to deliver this to you,’ the boy explained, handing over a sealed envelope.
‘Why, thank you,’ said Holmes. I could see that the name Sherlock Holmes was indeed written on the envelope.
The boy shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘The gentleman said you would pay me.’
‘Watson, would you please?’ said Holmes, reaching for an unused butter knife to slice open the letter.
I fished out a couple of coins for the boy who clutched them gleefully as he darted back outside. I saw Holmes pull out a single sheet of paper which he read with narrowed eyes.
‘What is it, Holmes?’
He hesitated a moment then handed me the letter. I read it with a growing presentiment of danger.
Holmes, you have crossed me once again. It is now perfectly clear that my purposes cannot advance so long as you are free to interfere, nor can you rest easy so long as I am at large. I propose that we settle this matter for once and for all in a personal confrontation. I shall await you on the cliffs above the Reichenbach Falls one hour from now. I trust you to come alone, for the sake of your honour and the safety of your friend the good doctor.
M.
‘The Reichenbach Falls – I have heard them spoken of hereabouts as a spectacular piece of scenery,’ I said.
‘I doubt their picturesque charms are the reason Moriarty has chosen them for our final meeting,’ said Holmes, taking the letter back and perusing it once more.
‘But you surely can’t mean to go!’ I exclaimed. ‘It’s an obvious trap.’
Holmes folded the letter and put it in his pocket. ‘Perhaps. It may, however, be my only chance to put an end to Moriarty before he can flee to a fresh lair in some remote corner of the globe.’
A chill ran down my spine as I recalled how at our first meeting with Moriarty, Holmes had declared his willingness to sacrifice his own life so long as he dragged the professor into oblivion with him.
I banged my fist on the table. ‘No, Holmes, I absolutely forbid it.’
An amused twinkle came into his eye. ‘Is that your advice as my doctor?’
‘I see no reason for levity,’ I retorted. ‘The world cannot afford to lose you. Nor can I.’
Holmes leaned forward intently. ‘I believe that Moriarty is quite genuine in his desire to settle matters between us man to man with no outside interference. In such a struggle I estimate my chances to be quite reasonable.’
‘I don’t think Moriarty will be abiding by the Marquis of Queensberry’s rules,’ I said. ‘He’s as treacherous as a cobra and just as deadly.’
‘It is as you say,’ Holmes conceded, ‘but I must take that chance. To do otherwise would be sheer cowardice.’
‘Then take me with you,’ I insisted. ‘You must at least see the sense in that.’
‘No, old friend. If I appear otherwise than alone, Moriarty is almost certain to have an escape route planned and would be gone before we can lay hands on him. You must stay behind.’
I could see that he was not to be swayed. ‘In that case,’ I said, ‘will you at least take my pistol?’
I drew the gun from my jacket pocket and passed it to him under the table where no one would see.
‘Very well,’ said Holmes, accepting it. ‘If it will make your mind any easier.’
‘My mind is anything but easy,’ I told him. ‘But if you are not to be dissuaded from this reckless course of action, you will at least go prepared.’
He stood up, his back straight, his lean face set in an expression of fixed determination. ‘If I am not to keep the professor waiting, I had best make a start,’ he said. ‘I believe it is a long, steep climb up the falls.’
While Mycroft accompanied Dr MacReady to the castle’s living quarters, Holmes and I descended to the chamber where Moriarty’s great machine was stored. The protective glass screen had been blown apart by explosives, laying bare the ruined mechanism beyond.
The havoc wrought by Holmes’s ruse had been augmented by further acts of destruction engineered by Moriarty to place the machine beyond any possibility of restoration. The professor had clearly resolved that no legacy should be left behind of his and Kilbane’s achievements in the field of mechanical intelligence.
‘It’s a sad loss,’ Holmes commented. ‘Human progress might have been advanced immeasurably by this new technology.’
I felt compelled to disagree. ‘Personally, Holmes, I think we are well rid of anything that can be turned to such evil ends as Moriarty had in mind.’
With that we turned our backs on the wreckage of the professor’s mad dream of the enslavement of mankind.
* * *
I have rarely been so delighted to return to the homely comforts of Baker Street as I was at the end of the long train journey back from Scotland. Our experiences on Errinsay had taken a physical and emotional toll that made it doubly pleasurable to sink into our familiar armchairs and await the arrival of an afternoon tea prepared by the skilled hands of Mrs Hudson. Dr MacReady had agreed to join us before returning to the scientific work that had been interrupted by her involvement in the affair of the Devil’s Blaze.
Setting those harrowing experiences thoroughly behind us, it was a welcome relaxation to speak of less weighty matters. We talked of our travels, our musical interests and the various merits of our favourite authors. It was an hour happily spent and I had never before seen Holmes find such enjoyment in the company of a woman. I knew that beneath the austere façade he affected, his emotions ran as deep as those of any man, and it had long been my hope that one day he would give them freer rein for the sake of his own happiness.
At last the time of departure arrived and we all stood.
‘Mr Holmes, working with you has been very interesting,’ said Dr MacReady. ‘I might almost say exhilarating.’
She offered her hand and Holmes shook it in a gesture of professional respect. ‘Renewing our brief acquaintance has indeed proved a distinct pleasure.’
As she moved to leave, Dr MacReady paused in the doorway to look back. ‘If you feel the need to contact me in future, for any reason at all, I’m sure you’ll know how to find me.’
‘Indeed I shall.’
The door closed and we heard her footsteps descending the stairway to the street outside. Holmes flung himself into his armchair and reached for a newspaper. I snatched it away and tossed it aside, much to his consternation.
‘Holmes, is that all you have to say to the lady?’
He appeared genuinely puzzled. ‘What more would you have me say?’
I eyed him sternly. ‘Holmes, I never thought I should have the occasion to say this to you, but you are a fool.’
I noted a perceptible flinch. ‘I find that rather uncalled for,’ he responded stiffly.
‘Good heavens, man! She saved both our lives!’
‘I believe I have expressed my appreciation of that fact.’
Taking a deep breath, I decided to renew my assault upon his complacency from a different angle. ‘Tell me, do you expect ever again to encounter a lady of such intelligence, courage and resourcefulness?’
‘I should say the odds are very much against such an eventuality.’
‘Then how, by all that’s holy, can you simply let her walk out of your life, perhaps forever?’
There was an extended pause during which Holmes appeared to be digesting the import of my words. A tiny crease formed between his brows, which in my mind I likened to the first crack in a fortress wall under artillery bombardment. At length he spoke.
‘Do I understand that you wish me to enter into some sort of romantic liaison with the lady?’
By this point I could scarcely contain my exasperation. ‘You might at least invite her to dinner. Is that too much to expect? I believe you would find her to be a kindred spirit. You may not be aware of it, but she, like you, lost someone especially dear to her in the last war. She too has long believed that particular door to be closed.’
Holmes fixed me with a scrutinising stare. ‘It is possible that you mean well, Watson, but I can’t avoid the suspicion that you are seeking some means to ease your own conscience, so that when you abandon me for your new life with Miss Preston you will not feel any pang of regret at leaving me here in desolate loneliness.’
I could not deny that he might have scored a point there, but I was not to be diverted. ‘Certainly I do not wish to see this apartment become a museum and you one of the exhibits. Such an end would not be worthy of you.’
Holmes sighed deeply and spread his hands before him. ‘My life, outside of your welcome support and companionship, has been one of solitude and danger. Surely that is no environment for a woman, no matter how capable she may be.’
‘It need not always be so,’ I persisted. ‘With your many gifts you could in the future find other avenues of employment – music, or pure scientific research, for example.’
‘You are talking about retirement.’ He shook his head. ‘I foresee no such leisure for me, no peaceful twilight. A career like mine can end in only one way and I believe that will involve a final confrontation with Professor Moriarty.’
‘Moriarty? Then you do mean to hunt him down?’
‘That is my fixed intent.’
‘But how? Where?’
‘You surely did not think he had retired to a villa somewhere to lick his wounds?’ Holmes clapped a hand down on the arm of his chair. ‘No, the professor is active as never before, playing his final card to the best advantage.’
‘I assume you refer to that one remaining vial of phlog-iston. But surely he no longer has the resources at his command to develop it into the weapon he described to us.’
‘A form of the fiery compound that could be dispersed over a wide area, exposing whole populations to its dire effects, with ignition at his radio command. That was indeed his ambition.’
‘To achieve that would take a team of expert scientists and a huge well-equipped laboratory, all of which have been taken away from him.’
‘Which is why his plan will be to sell the phlogiston to someone who has all those facilities and more at his command and would pay almost any price to lay his hands on so potentially devastating a weapon.’
‘You are referring, I take it, to Hitler. Yes, that madman would take a sick delight in wielding that sort of power.’
‘With sufficient wealth provided from the coffers of the Reich, Moriarty would be well able to rebuild his criminal empire, with the added satisfaction of visiting a fiery revenge upon the homeland that has turned against him.’
‘But if Moriarty has taken refuge in Germany, then he is already beyond our reach.’
‘Recall, Watson, what Moriarty told us of the Nazi state: that he himself would be outside the protection of the law there. No, I do not believe he will allow himself to fall into the clutches of the Fuehrer.’
‘In that case, where is he?’
‘In a neutral setting where a deal may be negotiated, a place where all those who wish to keep their ill-gotten gains secure from scrutiny will find banks eager to do business with them. I am quite certain that Moriarty is at this moment in Switzerland making contact with agents of the Reich.’
‘Holmes, that is a dire possibility. Can we intercept him in time?’
At that moment the phone rang. Holmes snatched it up, listened intently, then made a brief response before replacing the receiver.
‘That was Mycroft. A plane is ready for us even now,’ he informed me with satisfaction. ‘If you would pack a bag with all possible haste, our quarry awaits.’
29 A CHALLENGE ACCEPTED
The two Germans seated in a corner of the rustic tavern in the Swiss village of Meiringen nursed their drinks with growing signs of impatience. Finally the larger of the two, whose short-cropped hair seemed to bristle with irritation, drained the last of his beer and slammed the empty stein down hard on the tabletop. He uttered a guttural curse and growled, ‘Where is he? He is late!’
His slender, bespectacled companion winced slightly. He was clearly anxious that they should not draw attention to themselves. ‘Rest easy, my friend,’ he urged. ‘You know the English.’
He moved to lay a calming hand on the other man’s brawny shoulder only to draw back when the latter rounded on him with a glare of such fury it might have put a regiment to flight. He was about to order more drinks when the tavern door swung open and a bulky figure in a military greatcoat stepped across the threshold.
With a sharp hiss the bespectacled man captured his companion’s attention and pointed out the newcomer with a subtle flick of his finger.
The stranger took a moment to glance around the busy room, then, catching sight of the two Germans, he came straight towards them with a determined stride. Sitting down opposite them, he removed his cap to reveal a head of brown hair which, like his bushy moustache, was flecked with grey.
‘Herr Goltz, Herr Faber, I apologise for the delay. These Swiss roads!’
He spoke excellent German, but with an obvious English accent.
The larger German, whom he had addressed as Goltz, pushed his stein aside and leaned forward. ‘You are Moran?’
The Englishman nodded. With his distinctive moustache and the fact that his padded greatcoat gave him an appear-ance of bulk, he matched adequately the description they had been given.
‘Where is the professor?’ the bespectacled Faber inquired.
‘Don’t worry, he’s close by,’ the Englishman assured him.
‘You have the proof?’ Goltz demanded curtly.
The newcomer extracted a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket of his greatcoat and handed it over. Goltz opened it, squinted and passed it to his companion. On it was written a fragmentary part of a complex chemical formula.
‘This looks correct,’ Faber acknowledged. ‘And the material?’
‘With the professor in a safe place not far from here,’ the Englishman answered. ‘You have the payment?’
Goltz reached under the table and pulled out an attaché case. He snapped open the locks and displayed the contents to the Englishman – a small fortune in bearer bonds which would be accepted by any Swiss bank. When the man with the moustache reached to take it, Goltz slammed it shut and locked it.
‘No,’ he said, ‘we will hold on to this until we are face to face with the professor and can make the exchange.’
The Englishman looked momentarily discomfited, but shrugged it off and reached for his cap. ‘As you wish. There is a car waiting outside to take you to him.’
The three rose and walked out into a narrow street leading off the village square. A Daimler saloon waited there with a uniformed chauffeur at the wheel. The Englishman opened the rear door and ushered the two Germans inside where a shatterproof screen separated them from the driver. As soon as he closed the door the car pulled away.
What the passengers did not yet realise was that the doors and windows were all securely locked and that beneath their seat was a canister of soporific gas that would soon be doing its work.
Seated at one of the other tables, I had covertly observed the meeting from behind a local newspaper. Now I joined Sherlock Holmes outside and together we watched the chauffeur-driven car disappear round a corner.
‘What will become of them?’ I asked.
Holmes tugged away the false moustache that was the most uncomfortable part of his disguise. ‘Oh, they’ll wake up somewhere in the woods with a mild headache and without their precious case. We are on neutral ground, so we can’t be caught harming any German nationals, however wicked their intent. The driver is one of our Swiss sympathisers who can’t be connected to the car.’
‘And there’s been no sign of Moriarty or Moran?’
Holmes gave a frustrated shake of the head. ‘It was fortunate that our OSS contacts in Bern were able to intercept the German messages forewarning us of this rendezvous. There was always the chance, however, that Moriarty would become aware of our presence and keep a cautious distance.’
‘Do you mean he might be watching us even now?’ I couldn’t help glancing around uneasily.
‘Don’t worry, old fellow.’ Holmes gave me a reassuring clap on the back. ‘He won’t make his move in public. Let’s go back to the hostel. I’m sure you’d enjoy a late lunch and I can get rid of this makeup.’
By the time he joined me in the small dining room of the Englischer Hof, my friend had restored his normal appearance. He hung his coat and scarf on a peg by the door and sat down opposite me at the neatly laid table. A pink-cheeked waitress brought us plates of pork sausages with rosti potatoes, cheese and salad, which we washed down with tankards of locally brewed beer. Once we had finished our meal Holmes lit a cigarette and contemplated the coils of smoke drifting through the air.
‘So, Holmes, what will be Moriarty’s next step?’ I wondered.
‘I always judged it unlikely he could be lured into any sort of trap,’ Holmes mused, ‘but I still hold out the hope that my mere presence will flush him out. I have dismantled his criminal organisation, brought ruin to his plans, and now I have cut off his intended means of finance. His desire for personal vengeance will be close to boiling point.’
‘But, Holmes, the danger to you in such a stratagem…’
‘Must be risked,’ he stated firmly. ‘Even without the last supply of phlogiston Moriarty would represent a menace to the interests of every decent society. With it he might yet incite horror on a global scale while setting himself up in a new base of operations beyond our reach.’
At this point a fair-haired boy of about ten years old entered the room, looked around and made his way to our table.
‘You are Mr Sherlock Holmes?’ he asked my friend diffidently.
‘Indeed I am,’ Holmes answered. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘A gentleman outside asked me to deliver this to you,’ the boy explained, handing over a sealed envelope.
‘Why, thank you,’ said Holmes. I could see that the name Sherlock Holmes was indeed written on the envelope.
The boy shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘The gentleman said you would pay me.’
‘Watson, would you please?’ said Holmes, reaching for an unused butter knife to slice open the letter.
I fished out a couple of coins for the boy who clutched them gleefully as he darted back outside. I saw Holmes pull out a single sheet of paper which he read with narrowed eyes.
‘What is it, Holmes?’
He hesitated a moment then handed me the letter. I read it with a growing presentiment of danger.
Holmes, you have crossed me once again. It is now perfectly clear that my purposes cannot advance so long as you are free to interfere, nor can you rest easy so long as I am at large. I propose that we settle this matter for once and for all in a personal confrontation. I shall await you on the cliffs above the Reichenbach Falls one hour from now. I trust you to come alone, for the sake of your honour and the safety of your friend the good doctor.
M.
‘The Reichenbach Falls – I have heard them spoken of hereabouts as a spectacular piece of scenery,’ I said.
‘I doubt their picturesque charms are the reason Moriarty has chosen them for our final meeting,’ said Holmes, taking the letter back and perusing it once more.
‘But you surely can’t mean to go!’ I exclaimed. ‘It’s an obvious trap.’
Holmes folded the letter and put it in his pocket. ‘Perhaps. It may, however, be my only chance to put an end to Moriarty before he can flee to a fresh lair in some remote corner of the globe.’
A chill ran down my spine as I recalled how at our first meeting with Moriarty, Holmes had declared his willingness to sacrifice his own life so long as he dragged the professor into oblivion with him.
I banged my fist on the table. ‘No, Holmes, I absolutely forbid it.’
An amused twinkle came into his eye. ‘Is that your advice as my doctor?’
‘I see no reason for levity,’ I retorted. ‘The world cannot afford to lose you. Nor can I.’
Holmes leaned forward intently. ‘I believe that Moriarty is quite genuine in his desire to settle matters between us man to man with no outside interference. In such a struggle I estimate my chances to be quite reasonable.’
‘I don’t think Moriarty will be abiding by the Marquis of Queensberry’s rules,’ I said. ‘He’s as treacherous as a cobra and just as deadly.’
‘It is as you say,’ Holmes conceded, ‘but I must take that chance. To do otherwise would be sheer cowardice.’
‘Then take me with you,’ I insisted. ‘You must at least see the sense in that.’
‘No, old friend. If I appear otherwise than alone, Moriarty is almost certain to have an escape route planned and would be gone before we can lay hands on him. You must stay behind.’
I could see that he was not to be swayed. ‘In that case,’ I said, ‘will you at least take my pistol?’
I drew the gun from my jacket pocket and passed it to him under the table where no one would see.
‘Very well,’ said Holmes, accepting it. ‘If it will make your mind any easier.’
‘My mind is anything but easy,’ I told him. ‘But if you are not to be dissuaded from this reckless course of action, you will at least go prepared.’
He stood up, his back straight, his lean face set in an expression of fixed determination. ‘If I am not to keep the professor waiting, I had best make a start,’ he said. ‘I believe it is a long, steep climb up the falls.’
