by Steve Hayes
Touched by his loyalty, Holmes reached out and gently forced him aside. ‘Thanks, dear friend. But it will not be necessary.’ Then to Elaina: ‘This is not the first time you have taken a life, is it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The rumours are correct, are they not? You did kill your husband.’
Her jaw clenched. ‘You know better than that. It was an accident, plain and simple.’
‘Come now, Countess,’ Holmes mocked, ‘Give me more credit than that.’
‘Scotland Yard believed me. So did the coroner’s office.’
‘They had little choice,’ put in Watson. ‘There was no evidence to support the alternative.’
‘Until now,’ Holmes said.
‘What do you mean?’ Elaina said uneasily.
‘At the request of Sir Ashley Danvers-Cole, and latterly the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Edmund Henderson, I have been keeping a very close eye upon you, Countess, for one very specific reason. Since we could not arrest you for the murder of your husband, which we knew full well you had committed, we resolved to bide our time and make sure we could arrest and prosecute you quite successfully for the next crime you committed. All we were waiting for was the evidence.’
‘You’re bluffing,’ Elaina said, not as convincingly as she’d intended.
‘There’s an easy way to find out,’ Jesse said. ‘Give him your gun. If you’re innocent, like you claim, you got nothin’ to worry about.’
‘’Cept to lose everything I’ve got.’ She gave an ugly laugh. ‘No, thanks, gentlemen. I’ve worked too hard, eaten too much crow, taken too many risks to end up behind bars.’ She turned back to Holmes, the derringer aimed at his chest. ‘You’re right, as usual. The earl was a means to an end. That’s all he ever was to me.’
‘And Mr James, here? He was a means to an end, too, wasn’t he? The only man with nerve enough even to attempt the theft of the Star of Persia.’
Elaina did not say anything, but her silence condemned her.
‘But what happens now that he too has reached the end of his usefulness? Can he expect the same fate as the earl?’
The derringer in Elaina’s hand wavered and lowered a little. Her lips were tight but tremulous. She was, Holmes thought, a woman trying to summon the strength to pull the trigger; a woman unable to, a woman in defeat.
But he was wrong.
In the next instant she raised the little gun and pulled the trigger, causing Holmes and Watson to flinch instinctively.
The room was filled with a soft, metallic click!
Elaina quickly pulled the trigger again.
And again: click!
She stared at the derringer as if it had betrayed her.
Then she heard a clinking sound and, looking up, saw Jesse toying with the two shells in his free hand.
‘Sorry, Ellie,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I emptied the gun right after Holmes called on you last night – when I offered to hang the portrait back for you.’
‘B-But, why?’
‘’Cause I ain’t the fool you played me for.’
‘Jesse, darling, I never thought—’
‘Holmes wasn’t tellin’ me anythin’ I didn’t already know,’ he continued sourly. ‘It’s like Frank’s always sayin’: Beautiful women like you are the same everywhere. And believe me I’ve known more’n my share. You find a feller, take whatever it is you want from him and then cast him loose – or, in your case, push him down a flight of stairs.’
‘Why, that’s utter nonsense,’ Elaina began.
Jesse stopped her. ‘The moment I agreed to steal that diamond for you, I knew it was only a matter of time before you took care of me, too.’
Holmes relaxed and gave a brief tic of a smile. ‘I obviously underestimated you, Mr James.’
‘You ain’t the first.’
‘And probably not the last,’ Holmes said, adding: ‘Shall we go down to the cellar, then, and collect the evidence?’
‘Thought you’d never get around to it,’ Jesse said. He looked at the countess. ‘Lead the way … Ellie.’
CHAPTER 23
Escape!
Elaina grudgingly led them down to the cellar. At the bottom of the steps, she raised the gas, illuminating the secret door that concealed the small, damp room beyond. For a moment no one moved. There was only silence. Then Holmes spotted the candle and matches on the shelf just inside the darkened doorway and entering, quickly brought light to the scene. As he held the candle up, casting flickering shadows on the walls, Jesse and Watson entered and started to examine the treasure-filled display case more closely.
Watching them from the doorway Elaina said proudly: ‘It’s quite something, isn’t it, gentlemen?’
‘Indeed it is,’ observed Watson. ‘All that’s missing is the crown jewels.’
‘Too ostentatious, even for me,’ she said, smiling.
Jesse grunted. ‘I’ll believe that, Ellie, when they build a bank too big to rob.’
Elaine laughed, but it was difficult to tell whether it was bravado or that she really did believe she would get out of this. Confronting the three men, she said brazenly: ‘It’s not too late to work something out, you know. The earl left me well very provided for. There’s more than enough to go around.’
Jesse shook his head, amazed by her gall. ‘Looks like I ain’t the only outlaw you know, Holmes.’
‘Quite.’
‘Well,’ Elaina said, ‘you can’t blame a girl for trying.’
‘Holmes, look,’ Watson pointed. ‘Isn’t that the Star of Persia?’
Holmes nodded. ‘It must be, old friend. There cannot be two gems of that magnitude on this earth.’ He turned back to Elaina, ready to chide her for almost causing a serious international incident – but she was gone.
Jesse realized it at the same instant. ‘What the hell—?’
Holmes pushed past him, back out into the cellar. In the opposite wall another secret door stood ajar, the passage beyond it dark as pitch. ‘This way!’ he shouted. He ran toward it, his free hand cupped around the flickering candle flame to keep it from blowing out.
Jesse followed him through the opening, Watson limping behind.
The unlighted tunnel was damp, winding and narrow. Originally dug by river pirates and smugglers, in most parts it was barely wide enough for one person to pass through. The ceiling was low and uneven, as if the excavating had been careless and rushed.
As the three of them ran they had to duck to avoid hitting their heads on the jagged protrusions. The tunnel twisted one way, then another, until at last Holmes felt a draught of cool night air on his face and picked up the pace.
‘We’re almost to the end,’ he called back to the others.
‘Thank God for that,’ said Watson as he laboured along.
As they rounded another bend, an opening appeared ahead. It was narrower than the tunnel and Watson groaned as he saw it. The last in line, he watched as first Holmes then Jesse crawled through.
Outside, standing amid a tangle of brush, Holmes said urgently: ‘Come on! We have to stop the countess from escaping!’
‘I’m right behind you,’ said Jesse. Together the three of them fought their way through the dense patch of bushes, roots and weeds that tried to trip them at every step. Eventually they clawed their way free and found themselves on the mud-caked, moonlit banks of the Thames.
They looked in all directions but could see no movement.
‘She can’t’ve gotten too far ahead,’ Jesse said.
‘Don’t be too sure,’ Holmes replied. ‘The lady’s running for her very life. You of all people should understand how desperate she’ll be to avoid prison or worse.’ He broke off suddenly and pointed toward the river. ‘There she is!’
Jesse squinted into the semi-darkness and saw an indistinct figure climbing into a rowing boat some fifty yards downriver. Beyond, a bank of dense fog loomed ominously.
‘Damn,’ he said. ‘
She’ll be mid-stream ’fore we reach her.’
‘That depends on how good a shot you are,’ remarked Holmes.
Jesse frowned at him. ‘I ain’t much on killin’ women,’ he growled.
‘Blast it, man. I meant the rowing boat.’
Jesse grinned. ‘Just testin’ you, brother.’ He drew one of his Colts and took careful aim at the little boat – now pulling away from the bank as Elaina tugged on the oars.
‘Be sure to aim below the waterline,’ Holmes said.
Jesse started to squeeze the trigger. But at that moment a swell lifted the rowing boat, putting Elaina square in the sights. Jesse stopped squeezing, re-aimed at the bobbing boat and fired.
The boom of the big Colt shattered the silent darkness. A miniature water spout spurted up about a foot from the bow of the moving boat.
Elaine immediately looked back at them, and rowed even faster toward the fog bank.
‘Your skills as a marksman appear to have deserted you, all of a sudden,’ noted Holmes sourly.
Jesse gave him a sidelong glance, the meaning of which was almost impossible to read in the misty darkness. ‘It’s been a long night,’ he replied.
He snatched his other Colt from its holster and fired on the move. This time there was no water spout. A moment later the rowing boat lurched to the left and slowly began to sink.
Holmes hurried off along the riverbank, Watson at his heels. Jesse holstered his guns and loped after them. When they reached the spot from where Elaina had launched the rowing boat, they realized their chase was over. Though listing badly, the craft was still afloat, and Elaina’s steady rowing had brought her to the edge of the fog bank.
‘Well,’ Holmes said irritably, ‘unless you wish to indulge in a cold midnight swim, I fear the countess has eluded us. Perhaps permanently.’
‘You go ahead,’ Jesse said. ‘Me, I’ve never been partial to water.’
Frustrated, the three men watched as Elaina rested one oar and mockingly blew them a kiss. Then she went back to rowing and within moments the little boat vanished into the fog.
‘You gotta admit,’ Jesse chuckled, ‘the lady has grit.’
‘Or the devil’s own luck,’ murmured Watson.
Jesse grinned. ‘Reckon my brother Frank was right. He always said the difference ’tween a dead fox an’ a smart fox is that a smart fox always digs two holes – one to come in, one to sneak out.’
‘Your brother,’ said Watson, fishing out a handkerchief to mop his sweated brow, ‘sounds like a jolly wise man.’
CHAPTER 24
A Fresh Start
The London and North Western Railway station at Euston echoed to the sounds of the Liverpool train preparing to depart. Peering down at Holmes and Watson from an open carriage window, Jesse said: ‘Well, this is it, I reckon. And by the looks on your faces, it ain’t a moment too soon.’
Two days had passed since Elaina disappeared into the fog. Nothing had been seen of her since, despite a nationwide search for her whereabouts.
‘Well, you must admit, things have been rather hectic of late,’ said Watson, smiling. ‘I for one intend to spend a few days doing nothing more exciting than perusing my stamp collection.’
‘Beats watching corn grow,’ Jesse said. ‘You ever come to Missoura, Doc, you can ride with me’n Frank any time.’
‘I appreciate that, old chap,’ said Watson. They shook hands firmly.
When it was Holmes’s turn, he deliberately held on to Jesse’s hand and looked him directly in the eyes. ‘This is none of my business, of course,’ he said, ‘but I don’t suppose you’d consider following a different, ah, “calling” upon your return to the colonies?’
‘I don’t suppose I would,’ Jesse said.
‘Even though the life of an outlaw has already cost you so dearly?’
Jesse shrugged. ‘That’s the thing about “the life of an outlaw”, as you call it. It might be hell, but the money’s good and the hours are short.’
‘I won’t argue with you there,’ Holmes said. ‘Good luck, then, Mr James, and God speed.’
‘Same to you, Holmes.’
The blast of a whistle echoed shrilly through the station, making an elderly, grey-haired lady who had been shuffling along the platform hurriedly clamber aboard.
Holmes and Watson stood back. Jesse offered them one final wave, then closed the window and went to find a seat.
The train was already leaving the station by the time he entered a compartment that was empty save for the elderly woman, who was now dozing. He stowed his luggage in the overhead net and flopped down on to the opposite seat.
The train gathered speed and was soon gently rocking along. As Jesse watched the passing scenery – mostly soot-blackened brick walls and the backs of tenement houses – he thought about everything that had happened during his visit to England. It was just as Watson had said. The dull moments had been few and far between.
The long voyage home, however, promised to be just the opposite.
On the way here he’d had his thoughts of revenge to occupy him. To kill time, he must have dreamed up a dozen different ways to settle the account with Cage and Jack Liggett. But now that the brothers were dead, what else did he have to think about, except returning home to his old ways? And though he looked forward to seeing Frank and their mother, and maybe a woman or two, the thought of robbing trains and banks no longer seemed as exciting as it once had.
The elderly woman dozing opposite him suddenly stirred and appeared to wake up. She peered at him through small, wire-framed spectacles and said hesitantly: ‘Excuse me. Is that you, Mr Howard?’
He frowned at her. ‘Do I know you, ma’am?’
‘Oh, I think so,’ said Elaina. She sat up a little straighter, and after looking around to make sure no one was likely to see her, took off her glasses and grey wig.
Jesse’s mouth dropped. ‘Jesus on the cross,’ he said softly.
Elaina chuckled. ‘Nice to see you again, Jesse.’ Then as he stared at her, lost for words: ‘I wasn’t really going to shoot you, you know.’
‘Like hell you weren’t.’
‘Well, maybe just a friendly nick. Anyway, you’re no innocent yourself.’
Jesse raised his eyebrows. ‘Ma’am?’
‘Were you aiming at me that night, or my boat?’ she asked bluntly.
He showed her a huge grin. ‘I guess we’ll never know, will we?’
She matched his smile. ‘Well, let’s just say we’re even, then.’
Still unable to believe her gall, Jesse said: ‘You do know they’re turnin’ this country upside down, searchin’ for you?’
‘Let them,’ she replied. ‘Bumbling fools. I won’t be here much longer.’
‘Oh? Where you goin’?’
‘I thought perhaps Missoura.’
‘Missoura?’
‘Yes. Kearney, maybe.’
‘Thinkin’ of makin’ a fresh start?’
‘Why not? Thanks to Sherlock Holmes, I now find myself right back where I started – at the bottom.’
‘I doubt you’ll stay there long,’ Jesse predicted.
‘Let’s hope not. I’ve experienced both the bottom and the top, and there’s no doubt the top is better.’
‘Couldn’t agree more. And if ever I can help, be sure’n let me know.’
‘Does that mean you don’t mind me tagging along, Mr Howard?’
Rising, he went and sat next to her. ‘I don’t mind in the least, Miss Corbin.’
As they left the station and Holmes stepped out on to the pavement to hail a passing hansom, Watson said: ‘I was just thinking. Do you suppose we’ll ever see the countess again?’
‘I would not be at all surprised,’ Holmes replied. He smiled, remembering the old grey-haired lady on the platform. ‘But if we do, then I rather suspect that she will have swapped her petticoats for leather chaps and spurs.’
BY THE SAME AUTHORS
Feral
Dead End
&n
bsp; Tomorrow, Utopia
Killer Smile
Fanatics
Under the Knife
Cast a Deadly Shadow
Three Rode Together
Copyright
© Steve Hayes and David Whitehead 2012
First published in Great Britain 2012
This edition 2012
ISBN 978 0 7198 0595 0 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 0596 7 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 0597 4 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9478 4 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Steve Hayes and David Whitehead to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988