by C J Lutton
All through my temporary and protective hibernation, I dreamed of blood, fangs, and ghostly apparitions.
”Watson,” said Holmes, shaking me awake, ”get up. It's time to leave. I've had some news. Wilson's men are doing a splendid job, and they think that they're closing in on Dracula. Hurry and get dressed. And do it warmly even though we are going to hell to fight. Mother Nature has blasted us with her cold breath, and it is freezing outside. Our train is leaving in an hour.”
Holmes left and I hurriedly dressed. When I peeled the curtains away from the window, I was relieved to see the snow had stopped falling. A short while later, Holmes and Thaddeus came into my room, followed by the porter. After securing my last suitcase, the porter took away our bags and left us alone.
”How are you feeling, Thaddeus?” I asked.
”I'm fine, doctor. If you don't mind my saying so, you look worse than I do.”
A quiet knock on the door kept me from commenting.
”Come in, Wilson!” called Holmes.
Wilson entered and nodded to us in greeting, casting a keen eye at Thaddeus. Then Wilson and Holmes moved off to the side. The two spoke for some time before Wilson, reaching into a carton he had brought with him, showed Holmes the soles of two pair of shoes. My friend nodded. Turning to Thaddeus and me, Holmes said, ”We're off, gentlemen. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”
Indeed, it felt as if we were going off to war. In my mind's eye, I had visions of fifes and drums steeling our wills as we marched bravely onward.
13
The Execution
“We're all set, Mr. Holmes,” said Wilson. ”If you will follow me, my men will escort you to the station.” He turned about and strode to the head of the column. Holmes followed, whilst Thaddeus and I fell in line behind him. Our Pretorian Guard posted themselves four on either side of us and two in the rear. We marched through the hotel and into the lobby, passing a throng of startled onlookers. Judging by the fear in their eyes, our group must have presented a formidable sight. One of Wilson's men came running in and hurried up to him. Our group came to an abrupt halt as the two of them conversed out of earshot. As if hearing a silent command, our guards turned their backs on us and anxiously faced the people who were milling about.
”What's going on, Holmes?” I whispered.
”I don't know. Judging from the nervous reactions of our escorts, whatever it is, it wasn't expected.”
Finally, with a nod to the courier, Wilson led us through the outer doors and into a waiting coach. It was unlike any conveyance I had ever seen. The body of the vehicle was entirely encased in armor plating. Instead of windows, there were narrow slits with rifle barrels protruding from them. On the top of the coach sat a revolving turret. I could barely make out the eyes of the man inside as he studied his new passengers. The driver sat forward of the observation turret. His seat was also enclosed in armor. The six horses were protected on their sides by two large panels of plating running the length of the team.
As we clambered in, we all started talking at once. Wilson stopped us short. ”This coach is compliments of the government of the United States. The President wanted to assure you that he takes your mission very seriously. He told me that I am personally responsible for your safety. I have just received word that a further attempt on your lives is highly probable. From here on in, my men will be with you, twenty—four hours a day. I'm not going to take any chances.”
”You may tell your President,” interrupted Holmes, ”that we appreciate his concerns, but we'll not proceed another step unless your men are withdrawn.”
Shocked by my friend's words, Wilson was about to object.
”It will do you no good to try to change my mind. It is made up,” Holmes said. Acknowledging that his manner appeared at the very least to be ungracious, Holmes continued, “We three are known to one another. I'm afraid that I cannot say the same for your men.”
”But, Mr. Holmes!”
”Pray, let me continue, Wilson,” Holmes said. “We are responsible for our own actions, and I will not be responsible for those of your men. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not questioning your men's integrity, but I do question their experience. We alone have seen what horrors Dracula is capable of. I cannot, and will not, expose you and your men to such depravity. As to your mention of the possibility of further attempts on our lives, if I were to accede to your demands, then most assuredly we will fail in our attempt to kill Dracula. It is a mathematical certainty that the more men we have, the more things can go wrong. You've already witnessed the commotion your men have caused just by walking through the hotel. Can you imagine what the repercussions would be if we continue with such an entourage? Our enemies will be lying in wait for us, long before we arrive. I thank you, but my decision has been made, Wilson. I'm afraid that you're stuck with it. On another note, what we may have to do might not be in accordance with your laws.”
Wilson sat back dejectedly. ”I understand what you're saying, Mr. Holmes, but the President will eat me for breakfast if I allow you to travel unescorted. Surely, there's a compromise?”
For the next ten minutes, they haggled back and forth as if they were rug merchants. Finally, they reached an accord. We would be escorted to the station in this coach and then take the President's private train unescorted. Wilson and his men would follow us in another train one day later. That would allow us a full twenty—four hours after our arrival at Niagara before Wilson and his men joined us.
Both men felt as if they were on the poor end of a bad bargain, but they continued to be civil to each other on our ride to the station.
It was good to be moving again. The excitement of what lay ahead caused our blood to race with anticipation. The snow had turned icy. We came to a sliding halt at the station. Because of the blizzard, there were few people about. But that didn't deter Wilson from ordering us to remain in the coach until he was satisfied that it was safe for us to proceed. Once he was fairly confident we would be safe, he suddenly opened the door, and we were escorted to the waiting train.
The steam billowed from beneath the rumbling engine, indicating its desire to leap away from the station. The hollow pinging noise from the locomotive nearly drowned out Wilson's last words to Holmes. ”As best we can tell, Mr. Holmes, the tracks are cleared up to Albany. From there, your guess is as good as mine. I do wish that you'd change your mind about the escort.”
Holmes would not be dissuaded. He shook hands with Wilson and Wilson whispered something to Holmes. In return, Holmes gave one nod of his head and climbed up into the car. Thaddeus and I followed him. The space was decorated with restrained good taste. Brown leather club chairs surrounded a low mahogany table. A stove in one corner broadcast enough heat to keep the space comfortable. Bookshelves lined the room. Reference tomes were easily available, as were pens and paper in open containers. Interspersed with the books were objets d’art, including small statues, vases, and bookends. In short, the car had everything we might need to plot our course forward in comfort and style.
As soon as we were settled, we huddled around the stove to warm ourselves. After a short while, the train lurched forward and slowly pulled out of the station.
We were greeted by a muscular young man wearing a white servant's jacket, who came out of a smaller side compartment. It was obvious because of the poor fit that the jacket was a last—minute consideration. I disliked the man immediately. He had an annoying habit of completing his sentences with an odd humming noise.
”Gentlemen,” he said, ”my name is Alan, hmmm hmm hm. If I may take your coats, I'm sure that you'll be more comfortable, hmmm hmm hm. If you, please? Hmmm hmm hm.”
”We'll keep them on, if you don't mind,” said Holmes. “The cold weather, you know.”
”Of course, Mr. Holmes,” the man replied, as a look of disappointment briefly crossed his face. ”Coffee and tea are already prepared,” he continued. ”So please help yourselves, hmmm hmm hm. Of course, you may wander about the coach, but pl
ease, if you wish to enter another car, let me know first. There are things on this train that civilians are not allowed to see. Enjoy your trip, gentlemen. If you need me, I'll be in my compartment, hmmm hmm hm. You can speak freely. My quarters are completely soundproof, hmmm hmm hm.”
Alan went into his compartment and I heard him lock the door, as he continued to hum those three monotonous tones. I was about to comment on the man's idiosyncrasy, when I realised that I could still hear the abrasive sound coming from behind his door. Holmes, noticing my tense stare at the door, arched his brow questioningly. Bringing my finger to my lips, I gestured for him to remain quiet and to stand near the door to listen.
As Holmes and Thaddeus drew near, I took out my notepad and wrote, ”If Alan's room is soundproof, why can we still hear his hum?”
I held the note so they both could read it.
Holmes cast a suspicious and angry look at the closed door and nodded that he understood my note's import. Thaddeus had already unbuttoned his jacket and had Athos pointing directly at the door. Holmes placed his hand on Thaddeus’ shotgun, pushing the barrel towards the floor and shook his head, indicating another course of action that he wanted to pursue. He took my pad and pen. Holmes wrote, “Follow my lead,” and held it up for us to see. Thaddeus and I nodded that we understood. Holmes spoke in a normal tone.
”Damn this weather. I'm still cold. I shall pour us some tea.” We followed Holmes to the cart and watched as he poured tea in one cup and coffee in another. He sniffed the steam rising from the hot beverages. Nodding, he again used the pad and wrote the single word, “Aconitine!”
Holmes smiled thinly as he shook his head and motioned for us to the center of the car. ”You're both familiar with aconitine and its characteristics,” he wrote. ”We must fake our consumption of the drug in order to sniff out their plans.”
Thaddeus and I both nodded.
Holmes glanced towards Alan's compartment and wrote on the pad: ”It's important that Alan believes that we've ingested the concoction and are unconscious.”
”Thaddeus,” Holmes said in a normal voice, ”you must try this tea. It's delicious.”
Holmes nodded at Thaddeus.
”All right, Mr. Holmes. What about you, Dr. Watson?”
”Just one more cup. I'm starting to tire,” I said, playing along. “I think I'll nap after I'm finished.”
Holmes poured one more cup of tea and emptied half of each back into the coffee urn. He wrote, ”I want them to see a diminished amount of tea remaining in the pot, should they be clever enough to check.”
Returning to his normal voice, Holmes said, ”Let's sit by the stove and warm ourselves.”
As we settled into the club chairs, Holmes leaned forward, causing us to do the same so we could better read what he wrote. It was quite a message. ”I don't know if Wilson is in on this, but I will assume that he is not. He and his men could have overpowered us at any time. I'll begin to talk about the weather, and you two will join in. After an appropriate amount of time has passed, I'll let my cup fall to the floor. You two will do the same. Watson, yours will fall next, then yours, Thaddeus. We must all be very good actors today. Understood?”
Grimly, we each read the message and then nodded that we understood. Holmes started writing again: ”Be on your guard. If either one of you feels physically threatened, use your weapons. Try to hold off as long as possible, however. We must see what this charade is all about. All right,” Holmes wrote with a flourish, ”bring the curtain up.”
We switched to our conversational voices.
”How long do you think it will take us to get to Niagara Falls?” I asked.
”I don't know,” Holmes responded. “Everything hinges on the accumulation of snow and ice on the tracks. Wilson said that as far as Albany, the tracks were clear.I think I've caught what you have, Watson. I'm beginning to feel drowsy. Perhaps I'll just take a...”
Without finishing his sentence, Holmes let the cup fall from his fingers and topple to the floor.
Holmes’ head lolled from side to side, before his chin dropped to his chest. I attempted to rise but collapsed back in my chair, letting my cup go with a shattering crash. Thaddeus dropped to the floor with a grunt. All three of us faked our drugged stupor.
Silence filled the compartment, but before long, I heard the faint click of a lock being released. With my eyes shut tightly, I was unable to see what my two comrades were doing. However, I assumed they were also listening. My heart sank as Alan came out of his room and called out a name. My fear rose as he received a grunt in reply. Now there were at least two men in the compartment. Two strangers who wished to do us harm.
A cold draft rushed across the floor. It came from the direction of the door leading to the other cars. There was also a quiet brushing sound, as if someone rubbed his hands on a piece of cloth.
The hair on the back of my neck hackled with the realisation that the sound had stopped directly behind my chair. Someone was now standing nearly on top of me. His closeness caused me to become unnerved, but I recalled Holmes’ words to remain still, and I fought to keep my eyes tightly closed. I felt a slight give at the top of my chair, as the man rested his hands on the padded back of the seat.
”Gutt,” said a deeply accented voice, booming behind me. His thick German accent was difficult to understand, but I was sure he said, ”They are unconscious. Our Chancellor will be most pleased. I have gone through all of their bags. They have no important papers. We still do not know where the vampire is. These meddlesome Englishmen think they can destroy such an important opportunity for science. We must capture Dracula alive. All is ready. The casket is filled with soil from Transylvania. The container is lined with false sides and filled with holy water.”
”Professor Steiglitz,” said Alan, ”nothing better go wrong. If Wilson finds out what we're doing, he'll have us shot, hmmm hmm hm.”
”Wilson! Bah! He's just another bureaucrat who thinks he can work without scientists,” the professor said. “He has proven himself impossible to work with!”
“If it's all the same to you, professor,” said Alan, with a voice that had climbed a notch higher. “I don't want to be round when you administer the serum to Holmes and his men. How you get the information from them is your business. My job will be to deal with their remains.”
”Ja, ja! That’s good. I wouldn't want you to get your hands dirty,” said Professor Steiglitz in a mocking tone.
From the direction of their voices, I thought them to be standing in back of our chairs.
”All right you two, stop playing games,” came a third voice from off at my side. ”We haven't much time. Professor, give them the needle and get the truth out of them. After you're finished with them, I'll give them a shot of my own.”
His voice was menacing. The finality of the third fellow’s words left a hollow feeling in my stomach. But I was roused into action by Holmes’ voice as he shouted, “Now!”
Planting my feet firmly on the floor, I pushed back against my chair with such suddenness that the professor was completely bowled over. Horror contorted his face as I somersaulted to my knees and landed on his chest, pinning him against the floor. I was pleased that my movements seemed practiced and well—rehearsed. I quickly reached under my jacket and swung Porthos up and pressed it against the professor's stomach. Only then did I chance a look over my shoulder and observe that Holmes and Thaddeus had already gotten the other two men to raise their hands in surrender.
”Excellent!” Holmes said.
”Good work!” shouted an exuberant Thaddeus.
I rolled off of my captive and motioned for him to move forward until we had all three of our would—be attackers standing in the middle of the car with their hands in the air. ”Judging from your words,” observed Holmes, while gesturing to the third man, ”we were not going to live to see another day.”
”It was nothing personal, Mr. Holmes. It's just business,” came a reply devoid of any remorse.
I'
ve never killed an unarmed man before, but his words so chilled me that I was willing to do so now. The cold, calculating manner of the ringleader’s speech told me that he would not give our deaths a second thought. My fingers tightened on the trigger.
”There's no need for that, Watson,” said Holmes calmly. ”The man is correct, for I do not take any of this personally. After all, we are reasonable men. These fellows will not do anything foolish that would provoke us into shooting them.”
I eased back on the trigger.
”What's your name?” asked Holmes, gesturing to the third man.
The man relaxed and lowered his hands. “My name is unimportant, Holmes. You will not live to remember it anyway!”
With blinding speed, the assassin reached behind his neck for a dagger that was concealed in his collar. He hurled it at Holmes. Fortunately, my old friend was expecting foul play. He jumped to the side. At the same instant, he fired his gun. The force of the blast tore gaping holes in the man's chest and sent him hurtling backwards against the window, shattering the glass.
His body slithered down the wall. He was dead before he reached the floor. Morbidly, I thought, he would be greeted at the gates of hell with pain and surprise forever etched on his face.
The swift and horrible nature of the violence was too much of a strain on Alan, and he lost control of his bladder. With a terrified scream, he turned towards the window and ran past Thaddeus. Alan attempted to dive through the window. The server had one leg over the sill when Thaddeus shot him. In a moment frozen in time, Alan’s body teetered on the sill and then toppled out into the cold, blinding mixture of snow and steam kicked up by the racing train.
The three of us turned to face the professor.
”I will not be so stupid, gentlemen,” he said, raising his hands as high as he could. If anything, his accent was even thicker now that he was trembling with fear.