The Great Game

by Michael Kurland

  "I am honored at the attention. What else?"

  "I learned that the graf is one of the ringleaders of this weird medieval group. They call themselves the Knights of Wotan, and they're plotting to do something horrible sometime soon. And there's some man that even the rest of them don't know about who's giving von Linsz orders."

  "How did you learn this?" the duke asked.

  "I hid in the cupboard while they were having their meeting. I heard one of them, I'm not sure whom, say, 'England, France, Germany, and Russia—and of course, Austria. Everything's in place. The capture, the threat, the murders. It will have the desired effect.' Something like that. The real boss came in after the rest of them left and congratulated von Linsz. And they're going to blame Serbia. Some Serbian independence group will be held responsible. I don't know for what, but it is to result in a general war with Russia, Germany, France, and everybody!"

  "You see, Your Grace," Moriarty said. " 'England, France, Germany, and Russia.' Item number four on our mysterious list."

  "Yes, but what does it mean?"

  "You are going to a meeting when you leave here?"

  "So?"

  "Indulge me, Your Grace."

  "When I leave here I'm going to the opera. The Vienna Opera is putting on a special production of Wagner's opera The Mastersingers of Nuremberg for the kaiser, although officially they're not supposed to know that because officially His Highness is not here. After that I'm going to a three-day conference, as I told you."

  "With whom?"

  "The kaiser, Premier Joubert of France, Grand Duke Feodor of Russia, and Archduke Nicholas. We are leaving tonight after the opera on a special train. The conference itself will take place at Mariasberg, Archduke Nicholas's hunting lodge outside of Innsbruck, to insure our privacy and to keep the proceedings as secret as possible."

  "I'm afraid the secret's out already, Your Grace. Consider: England, France, Germany, and Russia—yourself, Premier Joubert, the kaiser, and Grand Duke Feodor."

  "That list! You think it refers to our meeting?"

  "What's today's date?"

  "April twenty-fourth. Oh. The first item on the list."

  "It would be an unbelievable coincidence if the list referred to anything else."

  "They plan to disrupt the meeting? But why?"

  "My best guess would be that they plan to murder you all or hold you hostage."

  "My god!" Albermar reflected for a second. "That would start a general war. It would indeed. The kaiser—the tsar's brother—the premier of France—the emperor's son! I'll be the least important person there, as popular importance is reckoned, and I'd like to think Her Majesty would hate to lose me, although I'm not sure she'd go to war over my demise."

  Benjamin Barnett, who was sunk well back into his chair listening, suddenly sat up. "But why two dates? The twenty-fourth and the twenty-fifth? When does the conference actually start?"

  "Tomorrow," the duke told him.

  "And it goes on, you said, for three days. What's special about today—the day you go up to the hunting lodge—and tomorrow— the day the conference begins? Why not have mentioned the three days of the conference itself?"

  "Because," Moriarty said, slapping his hand on the table, "they're going to strike on the trip to the conference." He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the duke. "The trip is by train, yes? And it will go through the night, yes?"

  "Yes. A special train has been arranged. We have a sleeping-car waiting for us at the station. The kaiser's private car will be attached on the way."

  "Thus to the literal mind, traveling on both the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth. And the cars, no doubt, will be the third and fourth cars in a six-car train," Moriarty said. "As item six on the list says."

  Sherlock Holmes had jotted down a copy of the list, and now thumped his forefinger down on the notepad. "The man who gave the list," he said, "and got murdered for his troubles—he was responding to a list of questions. Question one: what date is the special train going to the archduke's hunting lodge? Question two—we don't know what that was yet. Question three: whoever made up the list didn't know the answer to that one. Question four: the leaders of what countries have been invited? Question five: again he didn't know the answer. Question six: if you're right, professor, and it is a logical assumption, what will be the position of the sleeping cars on the special train? Question seven: I would give a lot to know what question seven was."

  "As would I," Moriarty agreed.

  Madeleine Verlaine rose from her seat, her eyes closed. "A letter," she said, "I read a letter. It may help."

  "A letter?" the duke asked.

  "Yes. I read it in the cloakroom of Schloss Uhm. While the professor and I were doing our act I went through the pockets of the coats for material—mind-reading is much easier if accompanied by letter-reading first."

  "What did it say?"

  "I can't quite retrieve it."

  Moriarty stood. "Madeleine," he said.

  "Yes, professor."

  "Keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice. You must relax. Sit down in your seat and lean back."

  She did so, almost falling back into her chair.

  "Now relax all your muscles, starting with your toes and working up. First tense the muscle and then relax it. Toes ... feet ... knees ... thighs ..." Moriarty slowly worked his way up the body, naming several parts of the body that were usually not mentioned in polite society. But nobody tittered, nobody smiled. All eyes were on Madeleine Verlaine, and they could see her body relax under the gentle pressure of the professor's words.

  "Now cast your mind back to that day—to the minute you entered the cloakroom," Moriarty told her. "Where are the coats?"

  "To the left, on a long bar along the wall."

  "Now you go through the pockets of the first one."

  "Yes. It is a man's black overcoat. There is nothing in the pockets save a silver cigarette case. The initials on the case are 'G. D. M.' "

  "And the next one?"

  "Gray with a black collar. A pearl-gray silk scarf in one pocket. The name Beske on a card case in one pocket. In the outer vest pocket an old crumpled and forgotten death announcement: 'Maximilian Beske. 17 August 1889.' "

  "And the next."

  "A woman's coat. Dark brown with fur edging. A letter from Bert to Olga Tartosky. Bert is in Australia, but hopes to make something of himself and come back. His English has gotten quite good."

  "Enough about Bert. The next one?"

  "Black. Stiff. With a belt. Wide lapels. Shoulder tabs. Very military in a Hungarian sort of way. A letter in the inside pocket. This is the letter—this is the letter I spoke of."

  "Open it and read it."

  For a long moment the room was silent, and then Madeleine intoned: "No salutation. It seems to be in the form of a telegram, although it's written by hand. It has, 'twenty-five April' in the upper right corner. And then, printed in capital letters:

  'WE ARE FREE SERBIA STOP WE HAVE TAKEN OVER THE SPECIAL TRAIN TO MARIASBERG STOP ALL WITHIN ARE OUR CAPTIVES STOP WITHDRAW ALL IMPERIAL TROOPS STOP TOO LONG HAVE OUR RIGHTS AND LIBERTIES BEEN TRAMPLED STOP ALL OF EUROPE MUST RECOGNIZE OUR CAUSE STOP WE WILL HOLD THESE WORLD LEADERS HOSTAGE UNTIL OUR DEMANDS ARE MET STOP IF YOU TRY TO RESCUE THEM ALL WILL DIE STOP WE PACE DEATH FREELY FOR OUR COUNTRY STOP YOU WILL BE NOTIFIED AS TO WHAT YOU MUST DO STOP WE ARE FREE SERBIA'

  "And then, written in longhand below this: 'The bodies of two Serbian nationalists will be found in the wreckage of the train.' "

  "And that's all."

  "And that's enough!" the duke said.

  "There is something else. Something Paul—your son—told me," Madeleine said. "Yes?"

  "At a meeting of the anarchists Paul saw one of the members in a train conductor's uniform. And Paul didn't think he was a train conductor."

  "Hah!" Moriarty said.

  "What are we to do?" asked the duke of Albermar.

  "I have a plan," Moriarty said.

  "I thought you
might," said Sherlock Holmes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — THE TRAIN

  Die Tat ist alles, nicht der Ruhm.

  [The deed is everything, not the glory.]

  —Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  The special train left Vienna almost two hours late because the kaiser so loved the production of the Mastersingers of Nuremberg that he stayed awake almost all the way through it, and insisted on going backstage afterward to congratulate the cast, especially the pretty young blonde who sang the part of Eva. The Kaiser's uncle, Crown Prince Sigismund, finally managed to pull his Imperial Highness away, and the train got underway just a shade before midnight with Kaiser Frederick Wilhelm Viktor Albert of Hohenzollern riding in his own private car and the other leaders occupying four of the five three-room suites that took up three-quarters of the wagons-lit deluxe car; the remaining quarter being reserved for triple-bunking servants. This was one of six such cars which the railroad reserved for those of the royalty or higher nobility who might choose to travel by rail.

  In the fifth suite, Moriarty and Holmes were hunched over a table in the front room, making plans for the coming confrontation, while Benjamin Barnett slept in the bed in the adjoining bedroom and Watson slept on a couch in the sitting room.

  The duke of Albermar came into the front room to find Holmes staring out the window and Moriarty leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. "I couldn't sleep," he told them. "What have you determined?"

  Moriarty opened his eyes. "While it is possible to assault a moving train," he told the duke, "we believe that it is unlikely. Therefore the train will be attacked when it stops. It is not stopping at any passenger stations along the way, but it must pause five times at coaling stations for the engine to fill up with coal and water."

  "I see," said the duke.

  "We have tentatively eliminated three of the stops," Holmes said, turning from the window, "the first, second, and fourth. The first and fourth are too close to major towns for any action to be unobserved, and the second is at a location without a telegraph office. We are assuming that the attackers will want to send their threatening telegram as soon as possible."

  Albermar nodded. "I see."

  Colonel-General Duke von Seligsmann, splendid in his full dress uniform, with his spurs clicking on the wooden floor and his saber clanking at his side, pulled the door to Moriarty's compartment open, braced himself against the swaying and rattling of the train, and came in. "Bah!" he said. "Men were meant to ride horses, not stumble about in trains. With a horse under you, you know where you are, but with the swaying and twisting and bouncing of a train, where in heaven's name are you?" He looked around the room. "Ah, Mr. Holmes, good to see you again. It looks as if you may have gotten the results we require after all."

  "Your men are resting, General?" Moriarty asked.

  "My men are polishing their boots and belts and sharpening their sabers," Seligsmann told him. "That is how they rest."

  "If I am right, it will be some hours before they are needed," Moriarty told the general. "If I am mistaken, they might be needed in a hurry."

  Seligsmann nodded. "They are used to doing things in a rush," he said. "Although usually they have horses under them at the time. But they are good men, well trained and orderly. We do, however, have one problem to which I should direct your attention."

  "Ah!" Moriarty said.

  "And that is?" asked Holmes.

  "In coming to this compartment from the car in which my men are waiting, it was necessary for me to pass through the kaiser's private car."

  "Yes," Moriarty agreed. "It would be."

  "Don't tell me that Kaiser Wilhelm objects to your passing through his car," Holmes said.

  "No, no, it's not that. Rather the opposite. His Imperial Highness Frederick Wilhelm desires to be informed of just when the attack is planned for. He, also, is sharpening his sword. He wishes to lead the charge."

  Albermar dropped into the nearest chair. "My ... goodness," he said. "Considering that His Imperial Highness only has one good arm—his left arm, you know, is withered, a fact he manages to conceal very well—this is probably not a good idea."

  "We'll have to think of a way to discourage His Highness," Moriarty said.

  "I agree," said Seligsmann. "I will not go down in history as the general in charge of the action in which the kaiser was killed. I would have to fall on my sword as losing generals of old were expected to do. Which, come to think of it, would be preferable to explaining to Franz Joseph how I allowed harm to befall his imperial cousin."

  "I think we will be able to dissuade the kaiser from joining in when we explain what will be required of the troops," Moriarty told Seligsmann.

  "Good!" the duke said. "Now, just what is the plan you have devised?"

  "Very simple," said Moriarty. "Holmes and I have agreed on the two most probable sites for the impending attack. What we must do is put some of your men out before we arrive at each of these locations to go forward of the train and form a screen. And then, when the enemy is located, attack them before they can attack the train."

  "Simple enough," Seligsmann agreed. "And I approve for that reason. In my experience the more complex a plan is, the more it is likely to fall apart of its own weaknesses."

  "There is a possibility," Holmes contributed, "that the attack will come at one of the places where the train has to slow down to a walking pace because of the uphill grade. It's not probable, because we don't believe that any such location will be within close proximity to a telegraph office. But we should be prepared in case our logic is wrong."

  "I will post men between the cars to look out for any danger. I have forty-three men, do you think that will be enough?"

  "There is no reason to assume that our opponents will attack in force," Holmes said. "They certainly believe the train to be unguarded, as the conference is supposed to be a great secret."

  "When I was apprised of the situation, I tried to get the representatives to stay in Vienna until we could resolve this," Seligsmann said. "But not one of them would agree to remain behind. They all have the utmost faith in my—our—ability to protect them. Bah!"

  The duke of Albermar smiled. "But I do have the utmost faith," he said. "I'll return to my compartment now, and pretend to sleep."

  -

  As the train bearing the leaders sped west through the night, heading into the Austrian Alps toward Innsbruck, twenty-two determined Knights of Wotan were waiting for it at a coaling stop just outside of the quaint little ski resort of Schladming. They wanted to bring back the glory of a Greater Germany that had never actually existed, but history was not their strong point. Their masters had told them all the truth that they needed to hear.

  In a canvas bag by the water tower two members of the organization known as "Free Serbia" also waited. Each of them had been shot, artistically, several times, in various parts of the body. Whatever they might have wanted in their lifetimes, they would never want anything again.

  -

  The special train sped on through the moonlit countryside. In the rear car forty-three hussars sharpened their sabers; in the next car the kaiser slept fitfully, dreaming of glory; in the wagons-lit deluxe Moriarty was once again leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, whether sleeping or contemplating the future it was impossible to tell. Holmes was staring out the window, watching the fir trees rush past and trying to remember something of importance. Something that had been overlooked. Something that had been said by someone in their meeting at the British embassy.

  "The conductor's uniform!" Holmes suddenly announced. "Albermar's son saw someone in a conductor's uniform!"

  "I have already contemplated that," Moriarty told him, without opening his eyes. "There are four conductors on this train. They do not know each other, as they were pulled from regular service to attend to the needs of their distinguished passengers and oversee the porters and other railroad menials on board, and have never worked together before."

  "And," Holmes
interrupted, his finger darting about the air for emphasis, "one of them might not be a conductor, but an agent of our adversary."

  "Just so," Moriarty agreed.

  "We must discover which is the imposter," Holmes declared. Moriarty turned to him with a slight smile on his face. "How?" he asked.

  "Investigate their documents."

  "The imposter will have well-forged identity papers. We could not verify which is the forgery in so short a time."