Sherlock Holmes and the Father of Lies

by C J Lutton

  My friend sighed heavily and pushed away from the doorjamb. The man stationed outside the suite gave us back our weapons, and we hurriedly walked to Thaddeus’ room.

  ”What is it, Holmes?” I asked, as a growing sense of dread rose up inside me.

  Ignoring my words, Holmes pounded on the door violently. Receiving no reply, Holmes nearly kicked the door off its hinges. A quick search of the room told us that Thaddeus was gone!

  ”Holmes, a note!” I said, pointing to the pillow on Thaddeus’ bed.

  With deliberate slowness, Holmes picked up the note, and after reading its contents, he angrily crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it at me in disgust.

  ”I hope it's not a costly indiscretion,” Holmes said. His words sounded ominous.

  I opened the paper ball and read the letter.

  * * *

  Dear Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson,

  If you are not at the hotel upon my return by four o'clock tomorrow, I will understand that my selfish indiscretion will have caused you to go into battle against Dracula without me. I have made arrangements for you to receive any assistance you may require. You will be contacted.

  Your disobedient servant,

  Thaddeus Cadwallader Edwards

  * * *

  ”What does he mean, a selfish indiscretion?” I asked, angered by his blatant disloyalty.

  ”It's a foolish thing he attempts, Watson, but if I were to suffer a similar loss, I would most assuredly act in the same manner. Of one thing I'm certain. If he expects to receive satisfaction by spilling blood, he will be greatly disappointed.”

  Shaking his head sadly, Holmes walked out of Thaddeus’ room. ”Watson, I'm going to dinner. Care to keep me company?”

  Having no wish to be alone, I accompanied him to the dining room. “Holmes,” I said after we’d given the server our order. “What is the jukes?”

  Holmes gave me a faint smile. “Watson, the word ‘jukes’ is slang for a fake move. In other words, Thaddeus led you to believe that he wasn’t up to meeting my guest. The truth was that he had his own plans.”

  My friend absent—mindedly toyed with his meal. Not wanting to impose on his pensive mood, I took the opportunity to consider how Thaddeus’ words and our quest had affected Sherlock Holmes. My ruminations must have shown upon my face.

  ”I'm fine, Watson,” said Holmes. “My silence is not the result of Thaddeus’ desertion, nor by the events that have come our way. I'm merely weighing our options.”

  ”Perhaps I can help?”

  Dabbing his napkin to his lips, he eyed me for a few seconds before speaking. ”Our first order of business is Thaddeus. Do we wait for him, or do we leave tonight?”

  ”We wait,” I responded without hesitation.

  ”Why?”

  ”Because he's proven very useful and may still be an asset to us.”

  ”Aye, there's the rub,” Holmes said. ”But have you considered that if we wait for Thaddeus and he rejoins our team, his erratic behavior may result in our deaths? Remember, his brash act could've upset the whole applecart.”

  ”What of the five victims now in the morgue?” I countered. ”Shall we lessen our odds of success by doubting his worth, because of an action that you yourself would have undertaken had the roles been reversed? Shall the people who have given their lives die for nothing? And what of your...”

  ”Watson! I'm not arguing against your reasoning. I simply wanted to find out where you stood. I needed to know that you were willing to sacrifice my brother's life in exchange for increasing our odds of success by having a greater number of men to do battle.”

  ”I am willing to do no such thing, Holmes! I would never ask you to sacrifice Mycroft’s life!” I was stung by his low opinion of me.

  ”For all I know,” said Holmes, ”my brother may already be dead. I've made the decision to accept his fate, whatever it may be. I'm sorry, but I foolishly assumed you were of the same mind. We have a better chance at success with the three of us.”

  ”Of course, you're right, Holmes, but I'm not as cold or calculating as you seem to think I am. It's just that I like Thaddeus, and I will give him every opportunity to prove himself. If we abandon him now, there's no telling how it will affect him. Character counts for something. If he didn't have the potential to be upstanding, you wouldn't have had anything to do with him in the first place. As far as your brother is concerned, I will never accept the possibility of his death. We'll free him from his horrible enslavement.”

  Holmes began toying again with the remains of his meal.

  ”Do you know Thaddeus’ true name?” I asked, changing the tenor of the conversation.

  ”Of course. Thaddeus Cadwallader Edwards. His middle name is quite intriguing. Cadwallader is of Welsh ancestry and it means literally, the ‘Battle Arranger.’”

  ”It suits him,” I said, ”but what of Wiggins? How did that come about? You set out to tell me but never finished the story.”

  ”Ah, yes, his name is my doing, I'm afraid. And one that he still has not quite forgiven me.” My companion’s face sparked to life as he recalled the incident. ”Thaddeus and his crew had the annoying custom of making sport of stuffy gentlemen as they exited their chambers at the Old Bailey and made their way to the pubs for their ritual glasses of stout.

  “As you know, many of them come out still attired in their robes and wigs. It was during these sojourns that Thaddeus and his boys would run down the street, grabbing the wigs from atop the balding pates of these upstanding gentlemen. The boys would run down the street whooping, hollering, and clutching the hairpieces over their heads.

  ”As fate would have it, I had just left the sessions house, after my presence had been required to stand witness on some case I had been working on. The ruffians charged down the street, and Thaddeus ran headlong into me. So unexpected was our confrontation, that he bowled us both over. The bobbies were rounding up as many of his crew as they could, but there were just too many of them. A constable inquired whether or not Thaddeus was one of the culprits. I answered no and told the officer that I had just secured his release only a few moments ago. The officer knew that I was lying, but he had his hands full with two of Thaddeus’ cronies. When the officer left, I asked the lad his name. He wouldn't answer and kept struggling to escape. ‘Fine,’ I said, ‘I shall call you Wiggins in honour of your brave deeds here today.’ The boy bit me and stomped on my foot. There I was, hopping round on one foot, with the Tasmanian devil held firmly in my grasp. Of all people, you would most appreciate the undignified state in which I found myself. Wiggins bit me again, and I was forced to let him go. In a flash, he was off and gone by the time I recovered.”

  Picturing the scene Holmes had described, I burst out laughing.

  ”I'm pleased that you see the humour of my predicament,” said Holmes. ”The final insult came when I realized he had lifted my purse! To Thaddeus’ credit, it was a few days later when he came knocking on our door at Baker Street. You were off running an errand of some sort. I never spoke of this because I found it embarrassing. Imagine me, the great crime fighter, taken down by some street urchin.”

  ”Go on, Holmes, this is something that I must include in one of my writings,” I said.

  Holmes continued, “When I answered the door, there was Thaddeus, standing in our doorway. He apologized for his actions and returned my purse. Of course, the money was gone, but he said that he would make good on my loss completely. It was then that I hit upon the idea of using him and his boys to act as my eyes and ears around the streets of London. It was truly inspired thinking on my part. Thaddeus would work off his debt to me, and I would profit by extending my reach into the underbelly of London. I must admit that this was the best investment I have ever made. And now,” Holmes concluded, ”I'm responsible for his sister's death. How do I repay that debt?”

  His eyes glowed with anger.

  ”Her involvement was Thaddeus’ choice,” said I. ”Not yours. I share the same guilt. I had
wished that Thaddeus’ people be dead when they came up missing, rather than be in the hands of Dracula.”

  ”We must prevail,” said Holmes. “Let nothing stop us from doing what is right. We mustn't let something that was meant to be wither our vision of what's right as we move forward. Shakespeare said it best, ‘Though it sleep long, the venom of great guilt, when death, or danger, or detection comes, will bite the spirit fiercely.’”

  ”No one could have foreseen this horrible tragedy, Holmes.”

  ”We shall see what the morrow brings,” my friend said. “Come, let us fall into the good sleep's arms tonight and wake with a renewed purpose. If there's any news from Thaddeus, I'll notify you.”

  Back in my room as I dressed for bed, I thought of Holmes’ first encounter with Thaddeus. It brought a smile to my face. But I fell to sleep with visions of the five bodies lying dead in the alley. I awoke the next morning feeling unrested and found that the weather had taken a turn. We were in the middle of a blizzard. Thick flakes swirled outside the windows, blocking what little sun there was. Icicles had grown, forming glass—like shards that reminded me of Dracula’s teeth.

  Fighting my low spirits, I sought out Holmes. He was lounging in the dining room. By the slump of his lanky frame, I knew that he had heard nothing from Thaddeus. With that worrisome realisation, my mood turned even darker. When the server brought me my food, I let it sit untouched. Holmes had done the same.

  A commotion outside of the dining room caused us to turn around, and to our great relief, Thaddeus stood in the doorway. His clothes were a mess, but as he spied us the young man smiled in greeting and then stooped to speak to a small child. The child was neatly dressed in short black pants and a gray jacket that had obviously been sewn with love. With a nod, Thaddeus patted the boy on the head and disappeared from view.

  After a moment's hesitation, the boy walked to our table. His eyes were barely higher than our untouched meals. He stared up at us intently and puffed out his chest with importance. ”Excuse me, sirs. Mr. Wiggins told me to pass along these exact words. He said to tell you, ‘Mr. Holmes, you taught me well.’ And then he said to give you this letter.”

  The boy handed Holmes the paper and stood at attention, his button—bright eyes taking in everything.

  ”What does it say, Holmes?” I asked.

  After studying it for a few seconds, the great detective read it aloud:

  “It says, ‘By taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy, but in passing over it, he is superior,’” Holmes told me. “Something I’ve often preached to young Thaddeus.”

  ”What's this all about?” I asked.

  ”Oh,” the boy added, “Mr. Wiggins also said he will join you for breakfast, as soon as he makes himself presentable.”

  ”Thank you, young man.” Holmes smiled. The tyke stuck out his chest proudly and saluted, then turned about and skipped out the door and into the arms of a rather stern—looking man who I assumed to be the child’s father. The man scooped up the boy, and walked away, carrying the child.

  ”Why are you smiling, Holmes?” I queried. ”Is it the boy?”

  ”No, it's the man the boy has become.”

  Confused, I could only stare at Holmes.

  ”Ah, Watson, it's Thaddeus that I'm thinking about. He entered my life very close in age as that child who just left us, but he's grown into a remarkable young man.”

  ”I may be dense, Holmes, but what are you talking about?”

  ”Thaddeus did not exact his revenge for his sister’s death. I'm certain that he found who did the killings, and rather than—”

  Suddenly understanding, I finished Holmes’ words for him, ”Rather than taking the law into his own hands, he did the proper thing and let the authorities handle it.”

  ”Precisely!” responded Holmes. Elated by Thaddeus’ words, Holmes suddenly found his appetite and began to eat. I did, too. When Thaddeus joined us, we were still eating.

  The waiter came and served Thaddeus a hearty breakfast of biscuits and gravy with a cup of steaming hot coffee. To his drink, Thaddeus added a copious amount of cream and sugar.

  ”Tell us what you've been up to, Thaddeus. Watson and I were worried that we'd lost you,” said Holmes, his voice quiet and without rancor.

  ”First, I owe you both an apology. My hateful actions could have exposed the two of you to great danger. I should have known better, and it will never happen again,” Thaddeus said.

  ”I know,” Holmes replied. ”Go on.”

  ”The surviving members of my team here in New York caught the scent of the cowards in a tenement building on the lower east side of the city. There were only two of the miscreants, and I am ashamed to admit that I went there for only one purpose: I wanted to kill them. My men and I were armed for war when we surrounded the building. As quickly as we could, we evacuated the tenants and climbed the stairs to the killers’ rooms. We listened at their door for any signs of life, and what I heard on the other side was a very comforting sound. They were snoring! The murderers, after doing their foul deed, simply went home and fell asleep. Still not sure of what would greet me on the other side of the door, I made Athos ready.”

  Seeing our looks of confusion, Thaddeus smiled. ”Oh, I've taken the liberty of naming our shotguns. I know that you are both familiar with the works of Dumas and his book, The Three Musketeers. Well, I have given our weapons names based on the protagonists. Mine is called Athos. Yours, Dr. Watson, is Porthos. That leaves your weapon to be called Aramis, Mr. Holmes.”

  Thaddeus smiled at our reactions. It was obvious that both Holmes and I took to the idea straight away. It was rather like a code, in that we should reference our firearms without giving away their true nature.

  ”As I was saying, I had Athos at the ready. My intention being that one of my men would kick in the door, and I would go in firing at close range. I planned to never give the miscreants a chance to react. We were all set, but my thirst for blood caused me to react quite differently than I had anticipated. Somewhere in my mind came that word, blood. I realized that I was acting as Dracula would. I wanted blood! And if that were so, then I was no better than he. Then another thought occurred to me. There was blood all over the alley from last night. That meant Dracula had added no new vampires to his family. Otherwise, there would have been no blood at all. It was simply an execution ordered by him or Moriarty. Given that realisation, I decided to make the two murderers pay. Not by quickly extinguishing their wasted lives. I want them to live with the knowledge of their crime burning into their conscience for many years hence. I sent one of my men to get Wilson and his team. They came straightaway. When they arrived, I explained the situation and asked him for one small favour, which he granted: Wilson gave me the opportunity to converse with the killers...”

  Understanding his meaning, I shuddered, whilst Holmes’ eyes glowed with anticipation.

  ”They will never be able to hold knives in their hands again,” Thaddeus continued. His voice had turned menacingly cold. ”When I had finished my, uh, conversation with them, Wilson and his men took them away. He promised to keep me informed as to their condition and whereabouts, just in case I may feel the need to ‘converse’ with them again. My sister's death, along with the deaths of my men, will best be honoured by doing the honourable thing. Wilson was kind enough to offer to handle the burial arrangements for me.”

  Thaddeus sat back in his chair, looking completely exhausted. ”Before I nod off to sleep,” he said, as he folded his napkin and put it next to his empty plate, ”what news have you of our journey?”

  Holmes told Thaddeus about our meeting with Roosevelt and the use of his private train.

  ”I regret that I missed that,” said Thaddeus. “Now, if you don't mind, I am off to bed. As you might guess, I’ve been up all night. Wake me when there is further news.”

  Holmes and I watched as Thaddeus left us to retire to his room.

  ”I've said it before, Holmes, but I must repeat myself. He's a
remarkable and courageous young man.”

  We left the dining room and headed to our rooms. Holmes stopped at the newsstand and picked up the Herald and any other newspaper he could find. He also checked for messages, and finding none, he scowled. ”We are in for a long day. Weather permitting, we'll leave in the morning. Even we are not capable of fighting nature. This damnable snow!”

  When we arrived at the suite, my old friend smiled.

  ”What amuses you so, Holmes?”

  ”Athos, Porthos, and Aramis,” he replied, shaking his head. ”The symmetry of Thaddeus’ reasoning is quite profound. Imagine, we three Musketeers prepared to battle against the evil forces of the Prince of Darkness. And what of D'Artagnan, where is he?”

  ”He's your brother,” said I.

  Holmes nodded.

  The rest of the day, we lounged about in the suite, reading the papers and nodding off. Occasionally, Holmes would rise and look out the window. ”If this snow continues,” he said, “we'll have to dig our way to Niagara Falls.”

  ”But what of Dracula, Holmes? Where is he, if he is not at the falls?”

  ”That, Watson, is the ultimate question.” Holmes frowned. ”As it stands, I've no idea. If all else fails, I'll have to get it out of Moriarty before I kill him.

  “In my conversations with Wilson, I was informed that his men are scouring the entire state of New York. He has harriers out, combing both the Appalachian and Adirondack Mountains. We are certain of only one thing, and that is Moriarty. Everything points to him and Niagara Falls. The professor's thirst for revenge and his misguided quest of ironic justice has clouded his mind. If I wished to extract my pound of flesh, I most certainly would not be sitting idly by whilst my enemies planned against me. I would attack! And attack now.”

  Meanwhile, as the snow piled up outside, I went back to our newspapers. I hoped to find more information that would confirm the route we should take when we left this hotel. When I looked over at Holmes, he was asleep on the divan. I went back to my room and attempted to do the same.