Sherlock Holmes--A Betrayal in Blood

by Mark A. Latham

  As she spoke, I felt my anger rising. I saw what a fool I’d been in Whitby. I saw, too, how the lines of Mina Harker’s youthful face could easily have been mistaken for my Mary’s, but in a cruel reflection of her. The thought of my mistake still stung.

  “You said the professor is away?” Holmes said, acting as though nothing at all was amiss—as though Harker was not brandishing a knife, and harbouring a dark look in his eyes. “Might I ask where he’s gone? We had hoped to catch him tonight.”

  “Certainly. He’s gone to look up some old friends—Aytown and Singleton, I think they’re called. He was lucky to get a place on the last steamer. I’m rather afraid that you’ll never catch him.”

  “Interesting,” said Holmes, absently. “But tell me, why on earth would the professor think to find Aytown and Singleton in Transylvania?”

  “Because we saw a most indiscreet former police inspector meet with a particularly foolish former solicitor’s clerk, and they said one or two things they really oughtn’t to have.”

  “But what of the former police inspector and the foolish clerk? Might I enquire what has become of them?”

  Jonathan Harker took a step forwards. “I’m afraid they met with a terrible accident this afternoon,” he said. “A fire. I saw the whole thing; dreadful business—I shall miss William. Still, it’s not your concern.”

  “I see I have been rather played for the fool,” Holmes said.

  “More than once, Mr Holmes,” mocked Mrs Harker. “Your reputation flatters you.”

  “You are not the first to have commented so these past days, madam—it is almost as though several personages have joined forces in mocking my humble efforts. I take it from this show of matrimonial unity I was entirely mistaken when I said you regretted your wedding vows?”

  “You were, Mr Holmes. My husband is twice the man with me behind him, and I twice as rich with him by my side. A match made in heaven.”

  Jonathan Harker sniggered at that, though the remark did not flatter him.

  “It is gratifying to think that Sherlock Holmes was fooled by mere feminine wiles,” Mrs Harker said. “I had heard it was only your companion who was so soft-headed.”

  “I shall not make that mistake again, good lady, I assure you.” Holmes bowed curtly.

  “You shall not have the opportunity.”

  The charade was over. Jonathan Harker stalked forwards steadily, brandishing the knife. I reached into my pocket for my gun.

  “Don’t, Doctor,” Mrs Harker snapped, and I saw that she had in her hand a small pistol, aimed right at me. “You see, we were asked to inspect the property, for the professor was concerned that intruders might be about. When we arrived, on a dark and rainy night, we found that his suspicions were in fact well founded. An altercation ensued, in which my husband overcame the intruders and slew them both with a blade. He was shot in the leg for the efforts. It was only after the terrible ordeal was over that we realised the men whom we had mistaken for burglars were in fact the famous Sherlock Holmes and the redoubtable Dr Watson. A tragedy.”

  “Shot in the leg?” Harker said, casting his wife a glance rather nervously.

  “Yes, love, by Dr Watson’s gun. In such fear for your life, and for mine, you showed the intruders no mercy. It’s the only way.”

  Harker sighed. “Very well, but let’s get the slaying part over with first.”

  A crash sounded downstairs, which caused all of us to freeze. Loud voices could be heard, drawing closer, and then heavy footfalls pounded on the stairs. I could see from the uncertain look upon the Harkers’ faces that they were not expecting more visitors. Mrs Harker’s finger tightened on the trigger of her pistol; I tensed, expecting her to shoot. I glanced furtively at Holmes, who alone was composed, back straight, his features impassive.

  A police constable, breathless and red in the face, threw open the door behind Mrs Harker, so suddenly that she turned and I thought she might fire. The constable let out a gasp when he saw the barrel pointed his way, and then shouted gruffly for assistance. More footsteps drew near, and another constable entered, followed finally by Inspector Bradstreet.

  “Well, well, well—isn’t this a pretty situation?” Bradstreet said. “Put that gun away, madam, you shan’t be needing it now. Would someone care to explain what’s going on?”

  “These men have broken into our friend’s home, and are robbing him!” Mrs Harker cried, her voice full of affected breathy panic. “My husband and I apprehended them.”

  “Did you indeed? And you are…?”

  “Wilhelmina Harker. This is my husband, Jonathan. We are friends of the owner of this house, Professor Van Helsing. You may have heard of us.”

  “I have heard of you, madam. And I’ve heard of the men that you have apprehended also—for they are none other than Sherlock Holmes and his associate, Dr Watson. I was summoned here by a neighbour who saw some suspicious characters lurking about, but I find it hard to believe that Sherlock Holmes would steal anything.”

  “You can believe it,” Mrs Harker protested. “You will find several papers upon Mr Holmes’s person that belong to the professor. And you might be interested to see what’s inside that bag he’s carrying.”

  Bradstreet strode over to Holmes, and took a glowering look at Harker’s knife as he passed by, which Harker sheepishly pocketed.

  “Well, let’s see it, Mr Holmes.”

  “Of course, Inspector. It would appear that you have me ‘dead to rights’, as the criminal classes say.” Holmes handed over the letters. “Strange though, is it not, that some of the letters there are addressed to me? And yet I found them here. Why might that be?”

  Bradstreet leafed through the pages, and tutted.

  “You’re right, Mr Holmes, and it is strange. But I’m afraid that doesn’t excuse your presence here. A complaint has been made, and we must execute our duty as police officers. Perkins, Bryant—take these letters, and Mr Holmes’s bag. They’re evidence now. Mr Holmes; Dr Watson—I’m afraid you’ll have to come down to the station.”

  “As you wish, Inspector.”

  “Mr Harker—I’ll need to speak with you and your wife further. May I take your address and call upon you tomorrow?”

  “Hillingham, near Hampstead,” Mrs Harker said, even though Bradstreet had been addressing her husband. “But we are very busy at present—you shall have to arrange an appointment.”

  “I’ll do that,” the inspector said. “Now then, let’s get these gentlemen to the carriage.”

  * * *

  On the street, once we were certain the Harkers could not see us, Holmes shook Bradstreet’s hand. “Very well played, Inspector,” he said. “For a moment I wondered if I would have to resort to my alternative plan, but you arrived in the nick of time.”

  “Holmes,” I said, “you mean to say that you expected this?”

  “Not entirely. If the Harkers had not appeared, we would have been gone before the inspector arrived. What I did not tell you was that I noticed the police carriage following us earlier, and slipped our cabbie an extra half crown to let it do so. After our exchange earlier, I knew it would be too much for the inspector to resist seeing what we were up to. I also knew that, as an ally, he would not foil our little robbery immediately, but would doubtless intervene if he saw anyone else approach the house. Am I right, Inspector?”

  “You are, Mr Holmes. When I saw those two arrive, I guessed they were the Harkers, and came running in case there was trouble.”

  “It’s lucky you didn’t come alone,” Holmes said. “I think the sight of your man’s uniform stayed Mrs Harker’s hand.”

  “I told you there were men in the station who would see you succeed, Mr Holmes. And these are two such men.”

  “Mrs Harker mentioned Cotford, and Young…”

  Bradstreet shook his head ruefully. “There was a fire, Mr Holmes, at a small theatre in Hampstead. Young is dead. Cotford is in a bad way—I doubt very much he’ll survive.”

  A look of an
ger crossed Holmes’s face.

  “I was not careful enough. I underestimated the Harkers yet again. Inspector, keep a close eye on the two of them, for I guarantee Jonathan Harker was personally involved in the arson. He all but admitted it in there.”

  “If he was, Mr Holmes, I’ll see him swing, be sure of it.”

  As we spoke, our cab came slowly along the street, having been circling the area as promised. Holmes hailed it, and shook Bradstreet’s hand once more.

  “Inspector, I promise that I shall share all evidence with you at the first opportunity. For now, it is imperative that the Harkers believe we are in your custody. We will by necessity be taking a short trip, after which I am sure this whole case will be resolved to your satisfaction.”

  “I will help as best I can, but I’m out of my jurisdiction here already. If the Harkers press the matter further, a warrant may be issued.”

  “Understood perfectly,” said Holmes, already stepping onto the cab’s foot-board. “When next I see you, it shall be either in triumph or manacles. Farewell!”

  * * *

  “Are you going to explain what’s going on?” I asked, once the cab was well underway.

  “Haven’t you puzzled it out yet?”

  “It’s those books you found that confuse me most,” I said. “What’s Arminius Vambery got to do with anything?”

  “Vambery is one of the world’s foremost experts on the folklore, languages and politics of the countries that now make up the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I’ve read several of his works—his grasp of linguistics is really first-rate. His involvement with Van Helsing is intriguing. The fact that Vambery is a spy for the British government suggests something more.”

  “A spy?”

  “Yes. Disraeli did not think terribly highly of him, but he still works for our government. If he is intimately acquainted with Professor Van Helsing then I would suggest the good professor might have access to more secret intelligence than he ought.”

  “This is too much to take in, Holmes…”

  “Let me simplify it for you, Watson. You may have heard of the Baghdad Railway, which the German government hopes will provide a direct link from Buda-Pesth to India, and thus encroach on trade that has traditionally been the sole province of the British Crown. As I’m sure you can imagine, the Crown does not want Germany to exert any influence over our interests in India, and is therefore opposed to the further extension of the railway, lobbying secretly to ensure the project never begins. However, as a pre-emptive measure, the British government has been surveying a similar line, taking a different route that would avoid Buda-Pesth altogether. Can you guess where the proposed route would take it?”

  “Transylvania?” I offered.

  “Precisely. This ambitious line will cross the Carpathians, making our colonial operations all the more simple, and bringing great wealth both to the Crown and to those who assist the British—the Hungarians and the Turks, primarily. There are several European powers who would seek to weaken this project, and it is safe to say that Germany is foremost amongst them.”

  “But why all the financial wrangling? What were Holmwood, Morris and Aytown doing investing in a government project? And why did it cost them so dear?”

  “I need to research this more thoroughly before I can provide an answer, Watson. It is quite possible that the British line has been licensed to a private engineering company, in order to avoid outright diplomatic hostilities. If that’s the case, then I would guess that Holmwood gave his backing to the project, and brought in a few choice friends to make easy money. Van Helsing must have had some link to Holmwood before he was called to help with Lucy’s illness, and decided to upset the apple cart with regards to the railway investment. He tried to destroy all of the men involved in the scheme save for Holmwood.”

  “I don’t know about that, Holmes. Lord Godalming did not seem in such fine fettle when we met him.”

  “No, but I’m not entirely convinced that was all Van Helsing’s doing. Keeping Lord Godalming in an addled mental state until all of this is over may be the professor’s idea of a kindness.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re driving at now.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. Anyhow, think also of Jonathan Harker. The connection to the railway now makes perfect sense of his involvement, and explains how he seemed to know the others even before his part in the tale became manifest. As Mr Young told us, Jonathan Harker did take a trip abroad, as his firm represented Lord Godalming’s interests in the railway. More likely he was retained by Holmwood as a solicitor to inspect the investment in the railway. I had thought the relationship between the Harkers and Van Helsing was a result of blackmail, but Harker must have proven more useful to Van Helsing than he ever would have thought. It appears they have become almost equal partners in the conspiracy.”

  “So this elaborate tale is little more than cover for espionage and illicit financial swindling?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Holmes, I can’t believe it. All of this… all of these fanciful tales of vampires, the Un-Dead; the erasure and rewriting of history… for what? Some financial scheme? For something as crass as monetary gain?” I knew I sounded disappointed, and how could I not? We had untangled such a web of intrigue, of lies and deceit, that I wanted the motive to be something greater, and the consequences to be vast, truly befitting of the case so far.

  “In all of our time together, Watson, when have you ever known a crime to be committed for a reason beyond the three primary motives: money, passion and revenge? Yet do not think the Dracula Papers were written purely for Van Helsing’s financial gain. I am pleased to inform you that there is more to it than that. This case has all three of those motives at work, and they combine in a white heat of criminal ingenuity, in which we find forged a criminal mind truly worthy of my attentions—Professor Abraham Van Helsing.”

  “But why Dracula? Why condemn this Transylvanian nobleman to such an ignominious end?”

  “For two reasons. The first, I would guess, is that Dracula was a supporter of the secret British railway, and perhaps even sold land on which to build the track. If he was lending his support to a project secretly sponsored by the British government, it would explain why Mycroft set us on this path in the first instance—we can investigate Van Helsing where the government cannot, for fear of causing further diplomatic incident. Secondly, I still maintain that Van Helsing pursued a personal vendetta against the Count; there were other ways he could have ruined the man without resorting to reviling his name and then murdering him. The depravity of the whole plot suggests deeper emotions at work.”

  “Again, I suppose you aren’t going to tell me your theory yet?”

  “Right again, Watson; but I will show you.”

  “Show me? How?”

  “In Transylvania. There won’t be another steamer until tomorrow, but we have no avenue left to us. We must confront Van Helsing, and get the truth from him once and for all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SECRETS AND LIES

  Early next morning, we struck out from Baker Street. Holmes took every measure to ensure that we were not followed. His informants, “irregulars”, and other paid servants I knew little about had already brought a steady stream of messages to our door, and set up a network of eagle-eyed guards for half a mile around.

  We went first to Cockspur Street, to organise our tickets. We secured a compartment on a train from Charing Cross to Dover, thence the channel crossing on a steamer, followed by a night aboard the Orient Express. After another day’s travelling we would reach Vienna in the small hours, and would sleep there, before setting out for Bucharest when the sun rose. From there, it would be a no doubt onerous task to find our way to Transylvania. I recalled vaguely how Harker had done it, but everything after his arrival in Buda-Pesth—where he had supposedly stayed only a few hours—was quite possibly a fabrication. Holmes and I would have to forge our own path.

  From the office o
f the International Sleeping Car Company, we took a cab to Somerset House, where Holmes used his great familiarity with the somewhat impenetrable regulations there to secure access to many folios of records. Ledger after ledger, file after file, were brought to our table by a diligent clerk, until Holmes finally found what he was looking for. I had almost nodded off when he nudged me and slid a great ledger under my nose, waving a finger triumphantly at a block of tiny, neat writing. I leaned forward and squinted.

  “The Atlas, Broadbent & Co. Engineering Company, principal shareholders. You see?”

  I looked to where Holmes pointed. “Lord Godalming,” I said.

  “The size of this company is quite remarkable—it would surely be large enough to carry out the engineering work on our little railway venture. Given the late Lord Godalming’s position, any licence granted to this company should be a matter of public record. I may have to ask Mycroft about that.

  “Now, this is interesting too, in late of what we now know,” Holmes said, placing another book before me. “The transfer of ownership of a London property, one which has lain oddly uninhabited for some time. Carfax.”

  “Much as I dislike what I see, Holmes, it all appears perfectly legal.”

  “Legal, yes. Honest, no.” Holmes took the ledger back. “Purchased by Peter Hawkins on behalf of his client, listed only as D—, in August 1892. 1892, Watson! Hawkins completed the purchase even without Renfield’s assistance, before he ever sent Harker to Transylvania. Which suggests that Harker’s business in Transylvania was not the sale of Carfax, but something else.”

  “The railway?” I asked.

  “Very good. Proof of this, if it still exists, most probably rests in the hands of Jonathan Harker. Now listen, the final purchase price of Carfax was little shy of fifty thousand pounds.”

  “Good heavens!” I said. “For a ruin?”

  “This is why even the very wealthy tend to rent in London, Watson. When it changed hands again, the agent is listed as one Mr Harker, now the owner of the law firm formerly run by Hawkins. Ownership is transferred to Abraham Van Helsing for the cost of five thousand pounds.”