by Anna Elliott
He grasped my hand in greeting, with a motion for silence.
“Kitchener has already been warned, thanks to Lucy,” he said. “But Sonnebourne must be caught in the act. He is a powerful man, and has allies even yet amid the British government. If he is to be utterly defeated, we must have proof of his crimes.”
Together, we slipped through the gate in the wooden fence. Holmes led the way behind one of the huge construction cranes. I followed. We went on for a few more paces, till we were behind another crane. Far below us on our left I could see hundreds of construction workers moving into formation, as though preparing to leave their work at the end of the day.
Holmes tapped my shoulder and pointed in the opposite direction, towards the earthen barrier that protected the construction site from the flow of the great river.
My heart thudded as I beheld Sonnebourne, wearing the uniform of an army officer. A few paces behind him was the barrister Morgan, also in uniform. They were approaching the edge of the barrier, where the enormous man-made mountain of earth began its gradual downward slope to the water.
Sonnebourne eased his large frame over the edge and down the slope a few paces. He crouched like a fencer, one leg outwards for balance, as he reached down to push away a pile of dirty straw.
The straw fluttered down the sand-coloured slope.
“Sonnebourne!” Holmes’s voice cracked like a whip. “You are under arrest. You are surrounded. Surrender now and keep your life.”
I could see the big man clearly. Holmes and I were emerging into his field of view, coming out from behind the second construction crane.
Sonnebourne spun around. His face was a mask of rage. “I’ll see you dead first,” he said. He reached for the detonator he had just exposed with one hand. His other hand held a pistol. He raised the pistol and fired.
I returned fire. As did Holmes.
Sonnebourne staggered towards us, bleeding, but still moving, pistol wavering, then steadying as he aimed at Holmes.
We fired again, in unison. Sonnebourne’s khaki-uniformed chest now had a dark round bloodstain spreading out beneath the collection of false medals. He crumpled to the ground.
Behind him, the barrister Morgan went to his knees, dropping his own pistol, his empty hands upraised in surrender.
Kitchener and four army riflemen stepped from behind the nearby steam shovel. “A close one, Mr. Holmes,” Kitchener said. “But you called it exactly. Some day you must tell us how you reasoned it all out.”
“Thank you for allowing us to do this ourselves,” Holmes replied.
We stood over the fallen Sonnebourne. The huge body that had caused so much suffering over so many years now lay prostrate.
But his hand still held the pistol. It moved, ever so slightly.
Holmes stamped down on it hard. Finger bones cracked. Sonnebourne cried out once. Then a shudder went through his massive frame. He lay still.
Holmes kicked the pistol away.
I knelt and pressed my fingertips to his neck, just below the ear. There was no pulse. He was dead.
Morgan, only a few feet away, called out, “Gentlemen!”
“You have been caught red-handed,” Kitchener said, his voice dripping with contempt, “in a flagrant act of treason.”
“I am a barrister in the court of Her Majesty the Queen in London,” Morgan said. “I was acting under duress. I claim my rights as a British citizen under due process. I intend to establish …”
His voice trailed off as he saw Kitchener nod to the four riflemen. They aimed their weapons.
“No!” cried Morgan.
Kitchener nodded again.
Four rifles spoke. On its knees, Morgan’s body seemed to dance for a moment as the bullets hit.
Then it collapsed.
“There is a time for due process,” Kitchener said as the four soldiers dragged away the bodies. “This wasn’t it.”
Then he added, “By the way, our men found the Chimera, that boat you thought was being used by Sonnebourne. Two bodies were discovered on board. A young British woman and an older German man. It appears they had a falling out and shot each other.”
CHAPTER 35: WATSON
A few hours later, Holmes, Zoe, and I entered the lobby of the Grand Cataract Hotel. I saw Lucy immediately, on the far side of the room nearest the entry door. She was partially concealed by the base of the entry partition, one of the peculiarly Egyptian striped arches that curve inward at the bottom, like the Greek letter omega. She wore her usual black suit. A black straw hat shaded her lovely face as she kept her eyes downwards, apparently focused on something she was knitting out of dark green wool.
She looked up immediately, saw Zoe with us, and gave us a radiant smile of joy and relief. A moment later she was with us, hugging Zoe.
“So you’re back,” she said. “Did everything go well?”
“I’m proof of that,” Zoe said. “But your father has a bit of an injury. Though he won’t admit it’s of any importance.”
Holmes tapped his wounded shoulder. “It isn’t,” he said.
“I have some news myself,” Lucy said. “Coincidentally, Mycroft also has a wounded shoulder.” She took two telegraph messages from her reticule and handed one over to Holmes. “This is his telegram. Flynn and Becky rescued him. Later Jack and his men found nitroglycerine stored at Paul Archer’s town house in Regent’s Park.”
Holmes was reading the message. “And they arrested a German who had abducted Mycroft. Possible confirmation of the Kaiser’s involvement with Sonnebourne.” Then he looked up. “But Mycroft says nothing of having been wounded.”
“Well, Mycroft wouldn’t, would he?” Lucy replied. “That bit of news is in this other telegram. It’s from Jack.” She folded that message and put it back in her reticule. Her eyes were shining. “He says Flynn and Becky were heroes. By the way, how soon can we go back to London?”
CHAPTER 36: WATSON
Kitchener said, “Now, Mr. Holmes. You promised to tell me how you reasoned it out.”
It was noon the next day. In the dining hall of the Aswan British Army barracks, a festive Christmas banquet had just concluded.
Holmes and I were still seated at the head table with Kitchener and several of his senior officers. Around us the tables were emptying. Two hundred British troops and nearly a hundred workmen who had wished to join the celebration were getting to their feet, heading for an auditorium in the same building, where entertainment was to be provided. The men were eager to reach their seats, for they had been told that not only would some of their talented comrades be performing, but also on stage would be the acclaimed London soprano, Lucy James.
Holmes put the tips of his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. His right arm was in a sling, but otherwise he looked none the worse for his injury. Dressed in impeccable white tie and tail coat, he would never have been recognized as the robed native workman who had stopped Sonnebourne’s act of treason.
“Knowing the importance of the Aswan dam project,” he said, “I was certain there would be some attack there. Sonnebourne’s plan was to orchestrate a bombing attempt on Parliament on the 23rd, timed so that he could take advantage of the resulting confusion in London and throughout the Empire. With Parliament threatened—and many of its members dead or wounded—Sonnebourne’s path to wrest control of Egypt away from Britain would be significantly smoother.”
“The bombing plot was foiled by Scotland Yard, I understand,” said Kitchener. “I had a telegraph message to that effect this morning.”
“As did we, I’m thankful to say,” I put in. I did not mention the role played by Becky and Flynn. This was not the moment for lengthy explanation.
“I also understand,” Kitchener went on, “that Sonnebourne planned to rally the Egyptian army to revolt, using an Egyptian, Colonel Asfour, as a figurehead.”
“He was holding the colonel’s daughter as his hostage,” Holmes said. “We had met her on another case involving Sonnebourne, and we were
aware of her kidnapping in London. We were fortunate enough to be able to help with her rescue here in Egypt.”
Holmes did not elaborate, but I knew that, before journeying to the dam construction site, Holmes had seen Safiya reunited with her grateful father.
“However, you and your men deserve a great deal of the credit, milord,” Holmes said to Kitchener. “For heeding our warnings without question, when they came, and for acting without delay when danger threatened.”
Holmes has always been generous in giving credit when a case has been completed. And it was Christmas, after all.
Kitchener left us to join his men in the auditorium. Holmes and I lingered at the now-empty table. He appeared thoughtful, as if some part of the great puzzle we had undertaken still remained to be sorted out.
Finally, he said, “Let us go and hear Lucy.”
As Holmes and I approached the auditorium, the entertainment had already begun. We could hear Lucy, singing in her beautiful, clear soprano. Entering, we saw her, standing at the center of the stage, dressed in black velvet, just as brilliantly radiant as the first time I had seen her, four years earlier, on the stage at the Savoy Theatre. Every man in the crowded audience seemed spellbound.
We continued to watch from the back, waiting until Lucy had concluded a Christmas carol and the audience burst into cheers. Amid their enthusiastic calls for an encore, Holmes and I walked quickly down the side aisle to find seats closer to the stage.
There we saw Zoe, seated in the front row, looking up at Lucy, clapping her hands in ardent applause. Dressed in black velvet, she was as lovely as her daughter.
I saw Holmes take a half step forward, as though about to take the empty seat beside her. Then he stopped and stood motionless.
I cleared my throat, uncertain whether I ought to say anything, but somehow driven to speak out nonetheless.
“You know, Holmes,” I began, “despite the sorrow of bereavement, I have never for an instant regretted my marriage to Mary.”
Holmes glanced at me, and favoured me with one of his brief smiles. This one, I thought, was tinged with something that might have been regret.
Then he replied, “And no one was or is more deserving of domestic happiness than you, my old friend. However, the work I do—it is done so that others may be fortunate enough to have those happy, domestic lives if they so choose. Such a life for me was never part of the bargain.”
I could say nothing, so I merely bowed my head.
But I noticed that Holmes moved to the chair beside Zoe’s after all, and that his hand just brushed her shoulder as he sat down.
They looked at one another for a long moment, and then they looked up at Lucy, who had begun a new song.
“Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright.”
Both Holmes and Zoe smiled.
THE END
HISTORICAL NOTES
This is a work of fiction, and the authors make no claim that any of the historical locations or historical figures appearing in this story had even the remotest connection with the adventures recounted herein. However …
1. The British Parliament generally adjourns in summer and does not return until the following February. But in 1899, there was a special session called late in December to address the need for military funding in South Africa. As far as the authors are aware, this session proceeded without incident.
2. Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo was one of the premier hospitality destinations in the world from the late nineteenth century until its destruction by fire in 1954. Dame Agatha Christie used it as a setting in her 1949 mystery novel, Crooked House.
3. The Old Cataract Hotel is still in operation in Aswan, now operating as The Sofitel Legend Old Cataract Hotel. Dame Agatha Christie used it as a setting for her 1937 mystery novel, Death on the Nile. The hotel also served as a location set for the 1978 film version of that famous story.
4. In 1902, the grounds of the temple complex on Philae Island were partially flooded when the Aswan low dam was put into operation. The temple buildings sustained significant water damage in subsequent years. During the 1970s, the structures were taken down stone by stone and moved to their present location on higher ground at the nearby island of Agilkia, where they were rebuilt and restored. The move was part of the UNESCO restoration and preservation projects associated with construction of the Aswan High Dam, which went into operation approximately four miles upriver in 1970.
5. Field Marshal Horatio Herbert Kitchener, 1st Earl Kitchener, rose to become Secretary of War during WWI and was known for his somewhat ruthless and draconian policies. His face was immortalized on the WWI recruiting poster shown below. For his services protecting Egypt from Sudanese invaders, a grateful Egyptian government gave Kitchener a small personal island in the Nile, known as Kitchener’s Island and today the site of the Aswan Botanical Garden. Kitchener also avidly practiced the craft of knitting. Millions of knitters today still utilize the Kitchener Stitch, a technique introduced in WWI to produce more durable socks for British soldiers. The stitch creates an apparently seamless toe.
6. The poem A Visit from Saint Nicholas, more commonly known as ’Twas the Night Before Christmas, was first published anonymously in 1823 and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who claimed authorship in 1837. Moore’s connection with the poem has been questioned by those who use textual content analysis and external evidence to argue that Major Henry Livingston Jr., a New Yorker with Dutch and Scottish roots, should be considered the chief candidate for authorship, a view long espoused by the Livingston family.
7. While Safiya and her father are entirely fictional characters, Colonel Ahmed ʻUrabi was an Egyptian patriot and national hero who led a revolt against British rule in Egypt as Holmes explained. Not long after the close of our story, in May 1901, ‘Urabi was freed from exile and permitted to return to Egypt.
8. Lucy James will return.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Anna Elliott is the author of the Twilight of Avalon trilogy, and The Pride and Prejudice Chronicles. She was delighted to lend a hand in giving the character of Lucy James her own voice, firstly because she loves Sherlock Holmes as much as her father, Charles Veley, and second because it almost never happens that someone with a dilemma shouts, “Quick, we need an author of historical fiction!” She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and four children.
Charles Veley is the author of the first two books in this series of fresh Sherlock Holmes adventures. He is thrilled to be contributing to the series, and delighted beyond words to be collaborating with Anna Elliott.