"Your son challenged him, Don Pablo. It is not your place," Don Orlando cried. The crowd kept Don Pablo away from me.
Suddenly there was more stirring in the crowd. Ana had been hiding in the back of the crowd. Her father was in the front with Don Pablo. Don Diego was mortified when Ana shoved her way through the crowd threw a flower at me and cried, "Don Jaime, mi amor, muchas gracias!" She proceeded to dip a handkerchief in the spreading pool of blood on the ground handed the handkerchief to me, kissed me on the lips, then sauntered away. There was the scene after the 1649 murder of King Charles the First by Cromwell where people dipped their handkerchiefs in His Majesty's blood, but I never thought someone would do it in front of me and hand me the bloody cloth, to boot. Don Diego and Don Pablo were aghast. I wasn't angry at her actions. I was too tired, shocked and stunned to really think about it. I guess later I could find it flattering in a macabre way.
I later learned that Ana hated Don Miguel. This served me in good stead. By killing Don Miguel in a duel, I was on the right side, because I was challenged. I was now propelled to the top of Santa Fe society, which under normal circumstance would have been well nigh impossible.
I've stated my feelings on killing. I actually enjoyed killing Don Miguel. He would have killed me, and he was so mean and arrogant that he got just what he deserved. I don't think his killing alone will send me to hell.
America has been good to me and made me a wealthy man. Considering my beginnings, none of this should have occurred. I could have remained in New Mexico and been done with it. It was now 1867. I hadn't been in London since 1856 when I left for Boston. I had obviously sent letters and been in touch, but I was not there. My mates and my mother were running my London enterprises. They knew what to do and I had not had any new schemes in London except for some Irish charities, which helped act as legitimate organizations to cover the illicit activities. Notice, I did not call London home. First, I had another link in my worldwide empire to build.
• Chapter Eleven
• India
I did not return to London immediately. If I were to thwart the British Empire, what better place than the Jewel in the Crown, India!
I did not want to leave New Mexico. I promised Ana I would be back for her quinceanera. This is a coming-out ceremony for a Spanish lady. It happens when she is fifteen, hence the name. She was now fourteen. People in Santa Fe feared I would not return, but once my business was taken care of, I would return. New Mexico was my base and safe haven.
I traveled from San Francisco on the freight-shipping line I set up. I am not above a little smuggling. Anything that denies that bitch Queen Victoria revenue. I just will not be caught like my poor father. I did not like traveling on regular passenger ships, where I might have a conversation I did not want to have. I was also able to stay in the shadows that way.
The Sepoy Rebellion showed that India had the capability for uprising. Many wanted gradual independence and were too passive for me. I wanted to stick the British lion like a wild pig on a hunt.
Through bribes, some Indian clerks began to help me build a network of Indian fighters.
This is where my Irish miners from the Molly Maguires came in. They taught the Indians how to work with explosives.
I spent six months setting up my network in India. I had well trained Indian assassins murdering British officials. Some were the disbanded followers of the Thuggee cult. I did not approve of Thuggee, but again I had a need, and these people fit it. I daresay, I would like to see all of India adopt the holy mother church and abandon their myriad religions. As with ancient Celtic pagans, it was time to accept the church of the Holy Father in Rome. Anyway, my newfound Indian groups were successful, because the killers would then melt into the vast Indian countryside. I did not need to stay in India. Once set up, they could run their own groups for their own reasons. Having finished my Indian labors I returned to New Mexico to attend Ana's quinceanera. A quinceanera is a coming-out party much like a debutante's ball, but for one person. In Ana's culture, it meant she was now officially considered ready to take on the duties of womanhood. Young men she grew up with acted as the "court" to the princess. It included a major solemn mass, then a major feast followed by dancing the night away.
We officially became engaged. I decided it was time to bring my mother to the better climate of New Mexico. I married Ana a year after the quinceanera. This was 1868. I was highly active in the affairs of the New Mexico territory and acquired land.
I loved Ana dearly. You may think I am lying badly, but I was a virgin on my wedding day, as the Church expected. I could easily have had prostitutes from my rackets. I knew those risks though, and that was business. I realized with the right woman, major passion was possible. Until I met Ana, Irish causes and my businesses were my passion. It is not as though I had no passions of the heart. The passions I had until Ana were business and intellectual passions. Ana shared my passions to help the Irish people. I shared her love of her culture and the New Mexico landscape. Together, we helped in the many Indian Pueblos in New Mexico. We traveled in Mexico itself. God had to be involved somehow. I could not have chosen a more likely partner for life. She was able, even as a fourteen-year-old girl, to get beyond my looks and see something deeper. Ana has a great skill in boring into people and understanding them. Her skill in doing this is actually better than mine. Our passions got our family going. We had a son in 1870, whom I named James and a daughter, Maria, in 1872. I am sorry to say, Ana had to raise them with help from the community as I would be otherwise occupied.
The land I acquired would be my safe haven where I could keep my enemies at bay. I was able to found my own town, which Ana named Moriarty.
I needed to get back to England, though. Several things brought me back that were business related there, but it was also now time to return to London and take my mother back with me.
• Part III. End Game
• Chapter Twelve
• My Temper Gets the Better of Me.
I hated leaving my beloved Ana, my family, and everything I loved in New Mexico. I had to head back to the enemy in London to take care of several things. I had now been away from England for almost 20 years. It was time to return.
The first thing I had to do was deal with an impetuous young man named Arthur O'Connell. This brave, but foolish, seventeen-year-old boy tried to assassinate the Queen in Regents Park. He was sentenced to transportation to Australia. I was able to convince his feeble-minded jailers I was his uncle and wanted to see him before transport.
"Who are you?" he asked incredulously.
"I admire your heroics, young O'Connell, but the time for checkmating the Queen is not on the horizon yet. Don't worry, lad, it will be. I have agents in Australia. They will look after you. You may be needed in the service of Ireland one day."
I left at once. I had other business to attend to, the business that had been waiting since I was a boy. My treacherous cousin David was now a Bishop. He was opposed to any sort of Irish independence and worked hand in hand with the British government. This was a confrontation I had been looking forward to for many years because he is a traitor. Who better to deal with him than the cousin he spurned years earlier?
I awoke that fine morning completely lighthearted. I never forgot nor forgave my cousin and his rancor toward us. I said back then his road was going to reach a cul de sac. Well, I was going to be it this day. The sun was even shining. I felt light in my step as I walked into his church and confronted him at his altar.
"Good day, Cousin David," I said amicably.
My cousin looked at me as though I was something he stepped in on the street. He had not seen me in years, but he knew who I was. "Why have you come?" he demanded.
"It's a church, isn't the world welcome?" He knew I was right, but still would have been happy to turn me out in the street.
"Again, I ask, why are you here?"
"To speak with you, cousin, about joining the movement for Irish independence."
"Never
!" he cried. "Join you and your band of murderers in your nefarious deeds? I'll see you in hell first!"
My normally steely resolve cracked. I whipped out the Bowie knife I carried from the American West and without another word stabbed him through his black heart. I held his back as I lowered his dying body slowly to the floor. He died on his altar like an Irish Thomas Beckett.
The papers were full of what I had done. As much as my cousin angered me, it was a stupid thing to do. The police investigation was bound to bring all sorts of interest.
I still had to see my mother, whom I had not seen in these many years. Of course, I had provided for her. She was living better than either of us could ever have imagined. She would not leave Whitechapel, though. She was too involved in helping our Irish brethren who had washed up in London as the flotsam and jetsam ne'er-do-wells to British society.
I learned my real place in British society the hard way just in attempting to purchase a suit after I dealt with my cousin. I obviously had the money, but I entered a Bond Street shop that would not serve me. The shop owner heard my accent and looked down his long nose at me. "Really, sir no matter how much money you have, sir, I shall never deign to serve you. I insist you leave these premises now as I only serve gentlemen."
I committed my second impetuous act in two days. The following day, I had my explosives experts blow his premises up with him in it!
The newspapers were now talking about a crime wave between the bishop's murder and this. The good Londoners did not know what to make of this sudden violence.
Even with the activity in London, it was time to visit my mother. She took the opportunity to welcome me, thank me, and berate me at the same time. "Oh, Jamie, these many years, you have finally come to see your old mother. I've saved all your letters from all over the world. You've sent me wonderful things and I live well. This is not as important to me as using these resources to care for our suffering people."
I told her some of what I had been doing in America and India to help Irish people and thwart the British. There were still things she didn't like. I told her about my wife. Mother was not happy.
"She is not Irish, Jamie my lad. How can she share your destiny? She is also not white. This is not right, Jamie. This is a terrible thing you have done. You must realize however that our church does not allow you to leave her. I want her to come here. You must not return to that place."
"No!" I barked, shocked at my vehemence. "I will not! I expect you to move to New Mexico at once!"
Mother's face turned as red as her hair. She placed her balled up hands on her hips and glared at me. For a moment, I felt I was being transported back to my childhood, when she could look down at me. Only now, we were eye to eye. "I shall do nothing of the sort, James Moriarty. As awful as London is, I have built a base here helping Irish men and women."
Then mother coughed violently. I thought she would cough the life out of her. She doubled over coughing up green phlegm.
"You have confirmed my reasons, Mother. London is killing you. The climate in New Mexico will be better for you. We are now wealthy enough to support Irish causes worldwide."
Mother tried to argue. She opened her mouth to speak but that cough punctuated her vehemence. I immediately moved her out of her lodgings, paid her landlord off and put her on one of my freighters. My agents accompanied her all the way to New York and then on the train to New Mexico. My agents informed me that mother spent the entire trip muttering about it, and didn't even comment on the scenery until she arrived in the West. Then she complained about the fact that it was not green like Ireland.
This served another purpose for me. If Mother moved to New Mexico, there was no question I would return. Mother was greeted like a queen when she arrived in Santa Fe. I also wanted Mother out of London, in case the police came calling, for my two recent acts were making me known. As with Donal, someone witnessed my Thomas Becket style murder of my cousin David. This person heard the entire exchange and caught my name. Therefore, I was now known to the constabulary, just when three of my best London schemes were about to unfold. I still went through with them, but all three were foiled because of the man who would become my worst enemy, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
• Chapter Thirteen
• The Brilliant Schemes Sherlock Holmes Destroyed
Well, I need to backtrack. The first scheme, the Naval Treaty was rather spoiled by a stupid maid in the Navy's employ, Maureen O'Dowd. If she had only come to me and had not given the treaty to her stupid gambler boyfriend to hawk like tawdry merchandise. Holmes of course easily caught them.
Then the Bohemian Scandal came upon the scene. You are wondering how someone from my background could come in contact with the natural royal heads of Europe? Well, as my family told me, I am descended from kings, so it really was time I claimed my birthright. My work with the church had won me many accolades. I traveled to Switzerland and Monte Carlo. There are others who do not like the British. I did not need British approval to do this. The approval of the holy mother church means more to me than anything I can gain from the British Empire. I met with agents of Britain's enemies. I had become very friendly with people from France, Italy and the remnants of the Habsburg Empire. I went out of my way to work with these people. I helped them play the odds at the Monte Carlo gambling tables. In turn, they rewarded me with clandestine support for Irish immigrant groups. I could provide weapons to fight soldiers and help all of the people I was associated with.
Through my contacts among continental royalty, I knew of the Bohemian's difficulties.
Now, I admired Ms. Adler as I enjoy the opera. I sent her flowers, saw her backstage and helped to fund certain things for her. I was able to get her servants who would report to me. I was willing to give Ms. Adler well-deserved money because I was playing for bigger stakes. We struck up a friendship. Ms. Adler informed me she did not care about the Bohemian ruler any longer. She considered it over and done with. He was getting married and feared the letters would be used against him. He didn't know that Ms. Adler didn't care. I also understood Ms. Adler could be cruel. I learned I could play on her wants. When he bought the letters, I would give Ms. Adler some of the money to help me out. Holmes is a master of disguise though. He was able to get in on a false pretext and get the letters!
I thought the Red Headed League was simply brilliant! A bank clerk on my payroll received word of gold being stored at the Royal Sussex Bank.
I had McManus, one of my Pennsylvania miners scope out the neighborhood. We realized we would have to start the tunnel in the pawnshop of Jabez Wilson as we could hardly start it in the street. I wasn't above using Englishmen when I had to, and in John Clay, I had the perfect person. He kept an eye on the neighborhood and found Mr. Wilson needed an assistant. This is how the Red Headed League was born. Clay called himself Spaulding and offered to work for half wages. Jabez Wilson, being stupid and greedy, fell for the ploy. We set up the Red Headed League and paid Wilson so much he was making more than his shop brought in, but of course for what we thought we were going to obtain, we were giving him a pittance in comparison. By having the hours between ten and two, we were strict about keeping Wilson out of his shop and Clay and my miners went to work.
Little did we realize how much Wilson missed the League when we closed. Little did we realize he would head straight for Sherlock Holmes.
Holmes, as Watson happily writes, solved the case. For me, this solved case was a thwarted dream. More and more money can go for my causes. I was now so wealthy; I could afford to give back. Still, there was that part of me that always feared winding up in poverty. I always thought one bad situation could bring me back to what I was. I was determined not to have my destiny ruined. Holmes was doing so.
Clay, when arrested, boasted he worked for someone who was smarter than Holmes was and would soon settle accounts with him.
Holmes read my mathematical papers, and we were now playing a game of chess. East End reformers were also helping Holmes build a picture of
the neighborhood.
I tried blackmail on Holmes. His drug habit was well known and he would frequent the Chinese opium houses. No one believed the accounts! Everyone believes Watson!
The blackmail failed and now he was getting bloody closer! Holmes now knew of my community centers. The lout Wiggins and his Baker Street Irregulars entered one and caused a brawl! Wiggins barged in most uninvited and shouted in a loud unpleasant voice, "We're 'ere for Mr. Holmes!"
One of my teenage boys, who I thought had more sense, Mark Cormack, blurted out, "The Professor will hear of this outrage!" Young Cormack had been found for me and I started him with errands, then had him watch the younger boys.
One weakness we Irish have is the gift of the gab. Well, young Cormack made me into a mythical figure among the young boys. Therefore, while my present whereabouts were not known, my name was now all over.
The Baker Street Irregulars fought with my boys and destroyed the center. They beat my boys, and then dragged Cormack and two younger boys back to 221B Baker Street. The young boys, Cormack later told me, were threatened with being hanged, and they were beaten even more by Wiggins as well as Holmes and Watson.
They returned to Whitechapel in a sorry state. I had to kill them, though. I had no choice. I had to keep as quiet as I could and have an example to the Irish boys that I was more dangerous to them then British justice could ever be. I killed the three boys in one of my warehouses. I summoned them there and stabbed them to death. I did not want the noise of a gunshot and I wanted this to be personal. I made sure some of my men witnessed this. I also had to have John Clay killed in jail. I learned he was spilling details of my organization to Holmes and the authorities.
I still had some successful blackmail schemes for the time being. Even those were starting to become risky.
Moriarty The Life and Times of a Criminal Genius Page 7