This is what I will fight for. I will not rest until this is done.
As you have seen, I have worked with Negroes, with people in India. They are useful to my interests but not my primary concern. Maybe the following gentleman may read this and come to certain conclusions about me. That will be for much speculation later. That gentleman is Herr Doktor Sigmund Freud.
• Chapter Eighteen:
• My Visit to Vienna and to Dr. Freud.
I visited Dr. Freud because I heard that Holmes had visited. Holmes was interested in how Dr. Freud analyzed people and Dr. Watson was interested in these theories for practicing medicine. Besides seeing my friends in the Habsburg government, I wanted to find out what Dr. Freud learned from Holmes. I was trying to learn my enemy so I could better anticipate his moves.
I contacted Dr. Freud in advance. I read his papers about cocaine and psychology to prepare for my visit.
I enjoy visiting Vienna. St. Stephen's is a great cathedral. I arrived at Freud's home and was directed to his study by a maid.
"Herr Doktor Freud, guten tag. Thank you for seeing me."
"Professor Moriarty, I know who you are; I agreed to see you. I am curious, however, as to why you want to see me."
"Shouldn't that be obvious Herr Doktor? Mr. Holmes is vexing me so."
"The great detective Sherlock Holmes? My dear Professor that should hardly be surprising as you are a brilliant criminal."
"Herr Doktor, what do I need to do to have you tell me what Holmes told you?"
"Herr Professor, you know I cannot do that. I agreed to see you to satisfy my curiosity, but am reluctant to have you as a patient. I cannot tell Holmes what you tell me, just as I cannot tell you what Holmes tells me. It is like a Catholic confessional."
Now I was angry. "First of all, Herr Doktor, you cannot compare the two. The priest I confess to is God's representative on Earth, through the Pope, God Bless him.. I am sorry, Herr Doktor, but this Psychology you practice is blasphemy. I have read up on your papers but this cannot compare with my going to confession. I cannot be your patient. I go to a priest to get help for my troubles."
"Ah, but Professor; Religion is just a collective neurosis."
I did not know what to make of this. "A neurosis? What is a neurosis and why is it a problem? Is this like Marx's religion being the opiate of the masses? Surely you don't think faith in God above is bad?" My head was spinning.
"If your faith is so important to you, why do you commit crimes?"
"Herr Doktor, they are crimes to the enemies of the Irish people. I have a relationship with your government headed by your dear Emperor, Franz Josef."
"You have a very high opinion of yourself, Professor. Don't you think you may have some delusions about how important you are?"
I wanted to explode. This Freud might be dangerous, but I realized he was a man of principle and would not share my visit with Holmes. I could hardly kill this man in a country that was loyal to my interests. The debate was fascinating, but I was horrified by his attitudes. The fact that he was a Jew meant he was the enemy of my church. I could not have a relationship with such a man, anyway. I finally found my tongue.
"Yes, Herr Doktor, I do have a high opinion of myself. I understand my intelligence. Sherlock Holmes is the only person I have dealt with who even comes close."
"Professor, you like having inferior people around you I think."
"Not inferior, different skills needs and wants."
"Would you know what to do if you get your wish for Ireland? I don't think you could stop your crime spree but just use other reasons to do it."
"Dr. Freud, I will not live to see the day Ireland is free."
"Do you want to die before then, Professor? I still theorize if Ireland gains her independence from Britain as you say you desire, you will be at a loss. You cannot suddenly turn off a lifetime of doing things a certain way."
"No, Herr Doktor, your theories are wrong. I have every intention of living to see my work completed."
"Like an artist with a canvas, Herr Professor?"
"That, my dear sir, is the first thing I can agree with in this entire debate."
"Professor, I do not think you can stop committing crimes. I think your intellect is bent in that direction. You enjoy being able to thwart society. A small part of me admires that, because society thinks of my theories as controversial. Do not fear, Professor. I will keep this conversation quiet as though you were my patient."
"Then, Herr Doktor Freud, it has been most enlightening; however, I must bid you good day." I did not shake his hand as I left his home. An amazing and fascinating encounter, but I was glad for it to be over.
• Chapter Nineteen
• My Visit to Holmes
This was it! I must now deal with Holmes in person and at once!
It was a cloudy cold Saturday when I made my way down Baker Street. I pulled my scarf around my neck and approached the door at number 221 B.
I knocked aggressively, slamming the door knocker into the door. A short, plump middle-aged lady appeared. She had gray hair that had originally been black. She had it in a bun and had a cameo to button her blouse.
"Yes sir, may I help you?" I could hear the slight Scots accent, changed by years living in England. Her tone was polite, but businesslike and showed she had dealt with angry men pounding on this door before.
"I will see Mr. Holmes now!" I bellowed. I realized I was angry; the County Kerry accent of my childhood became thicker. Whether she understood me or not did not matter. I shoved my way past her and bolted for the stairs.
"Sir, you cannot just come charging in here like an angry bull, this is my home!"
"Where is he, woman?" Suddenly, I heard muffled voices from upstairs. I ran up those stairs faster than I might have as a child, my rage so drove me.
"You cannot go up there unannounced," she cried to no avail. My mission would not stand aside for the woman downstairs, whoever she might be.
I bound to the top of the stairs and did not hesitate for a moment. I flung the door open. I didn't even think that they might be on the other side waiting to kill me. I just acted.
The two men in the room looked up but much to my chagrin looked placid. "Holmes!" I screamed.
"Ah, Moriarty I've been expecting you. I saw your hideous figure crossing the street. Out with it man! You are unwelcome here!"
Dr. Watson had his elbow on the mantle above the fireplace. I did see the bulge of a revolver in his coat pocket. I wanted to state my case and leave this accursed room.
"Holmes, your persecution of me must cease! I know a man of your brilliance understands that."
"Moriarty, one day my persecution will become prosecution in a court of law. Watson shall be your jury. You are the Napoleon of Crime. I shall be your Wellington defeating you at Waterloo."
"You shall have your Waterloo! Why don't you just kill me now? There will be others to take my place. I am not the only Irish independence fighter. If you do not want to kill me, why don't you summon the bloody coppers now? I will wait for your stupid Peelers such as Jones and Lestrade. I will sit down in your chair and wait for them."
Holmes and Watson just stared at me.
"Cat got your tongue gentlemen? That is not a surprise. What are you going to charge me with? There, you can't answer that, can ye?" I was pointing at them angrily and finally just threw my hands up.
Holmes brushed the air with his hand. "Your prattle bores me, Moriarty. You are but a common criminal." Holmes proceeded to a small table and picked up a piece of paper from it. I glanced at the words. It was my letter to him. "Moriarty, this will be finished one day for you. That day is not today. You are tiring me. Watson. please show our visitor out. "Watson's hands moved with his right hand bringing out the revolver.
"I haven't addressed you yet, Dr. Watson. You have skilled hands. It would be a pity if something were to happen to those hands and you would not be able to practice medicine or write about Mr. Holmes' adventures. You m
ay have escaped death in Afghanistan; however, you will not escape me." I glanced at the statue of that degenerate General Gordon of Khartoum they had in their room. "Ah yes, General Gordon, another one of my success stories. Those fake telegrams of his safety kept the British public hopeful. A nice little ruse on my part I might add."
Watson spoke in a harsh manner. "Moriarty, you are not even good enough to meet on a field of honor. My preference would be to shoot you here. I killed better men in Afghanistan than you could ever hope to be. Those men were not even Christian. I will be happy to escort you to the street. Mrs. Hudson should not have to tolerate your insolence when he leaves."
I had a sense of foreboding when Holmes went to the window and whistled. He shouted something I could not hear as Watson roughly escorted me downstairs practically throwing me down the stairs.
I was seen out the door and into the arms of the ruffian Wiggins! "Mr. 'Holmes told us to escort you proper like." There were ten of them, and I did not like this at all. I received my second beating and humiliation in a short time. They beat me all the way out of Baker Street. I was most vexed when I returned to the East End, bloody and with more ruined clothes. I mulled over the day's events. I could feel the jaws of the trap closing. I might be a fox but the hounds were closing in. This might be my only chance to escape the trap.
I realize Holmes needs the constant action to keep his mind occupied. By the time, I am through with him, Holmes will not know where to respond. He will have so many cases he will have trouble keeping up. My British operations are in the most difficulty. I will have him running all over Britain and Ireland. From Lands End to John O'Groats, Holmes will not know a moment's peace. He wants action; I will be honored to oblige him.
My first crimes were to invade more parties of the wealthy. I had members of the gentry followed and murdered, just for sport. In the countryside many an unsuspecting walker turned up dead on lonely trails. Some "shooting accidents" in the Scottish Highlands were not accidents.
Holmes was running all over from killing to killing. I lost count of how many. I just told my men to crate as much chaos as possible.
I now had work for my snipers. I ordered them not to kill Holmes but to fire shots near him. I wanted him aware and constantly running.
I had my Women's Brigade beating and clawing society women everywhere. They were led by an Irish American woman from New York known as Hellcat Maggie. She led women just like her. I gave them a reason. They went in and out of Irish slums worldwide where they hid. Maggie was a tall gaunt woman who fought like a tigress, as did the women she controlled. I even had my photographer take photos of women they kidnapped and beat. I wanted Mr. Holmes to know what he was up against.
Scotland Yard was aghast. The Home Office tried not to report all the attacks. Now with the science of fingerprinting being used I wanted no notes left with bodies. Just kill them and move on.
The press wrote about Britain being under siege. Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord. I'm not the Lord but I will do His work and carry out His plan. I've been building on this for forty years. It is time to force End Game in this chess match.
You may be still thinking why not just continue with assassinations all the way up to that bloody bitch, Queen Victoria? I am already wreaking havoc on the prominent in the United Kingdom I am working fervently to disunite. As I told young O'Connell before his deportation, the time was not right.
Holmes is the only mortal who can bring me down. I wish I could say I was enjoying matching wits with him, but he was vexing me at every turn. I was having men watch 221 B Baker all the time, but carefully so the Irregulars would not see them. One night, my men were fortunate. They caught Holmes on the street alone. Their instructions were to beat him but not kill him. I wanted that pleasure for myself. I had ten of my roughest, hardest lads following him. I had my gang leader from childhood, Brian McLaughlin, leading them.
They cornered Holmes down the street from his home. I had considered blowing that home up, but it would be too difficult for my men to get in there. and I wanted Holmes alive and did not want him fleeing somewhere else. They cornered Holmes. Too bad, McLaughlin could not resist a little theatrics.
"Oh, Mr. Holmes, we've got ya now, ya bloody bastard. Lay it on for the Professor boys."
Holmes knows all sorts of martial arts and was able to fight with them. Then the Irregulars showed up and fought them. The police arrested my men but of course not the Irregulars.
The following day, lower class papers had the banner headline Murderous Attack Upon Sherlock Holmes.
My planned crimes kept Holmes busy but instead of wearing him out, they energized him. It is time for CheckMate.
I realized I could not finish Holmes off in London. I had to draw him somewhere. I thought of Switzerland. I would meet with agents from Britain's enemies in Zurich and get them to back me up in my final scheme. I dispatched a letter to Holmes instructing him to meet me at the Reichenbach Falls alone!
I booked my passage and took the train out of Waterloo Station for the train to the Continent. From there I rode the ship to Calais and then on to Switzerland. First I went to Zurich, where I made contacts with various agents from nations not friendly to British interests. They would be in the hills above the Falls to take care of Holmes should I die.
I am not afraid. Again, not out of arrogance. If I lose, I either lose to being murdered in Switzerland or being forcibly brought back to London to be hanged by British justice. If I am going to die, so is Holmes. If Holmes must prevail than I must make my stand at the Falls and die there.
Chapter Twenty
The Story of Col. Moran
The story at this point is continued by Sebastian Moran , a longtime Moriarty lieutenant and the head of Moriarty's sniper corps.
I am continuing this as I was placed in charge of the Professor's story when he went to his meeting.
I hid in an area behind some pine trees not far from where the Professor was to meet Holmes. It is a rough area to hike to with a sharp precipice. The drop must be over a thousand feet. They were to meet on this ledge by the precipice.
I had Curry, a short, broad man with me. Curry acts as my spotter when I am in sniper roles. He is good at what he does and does not waste time with idle chatter.
Holmes appeared on the ledge first. He looked so calm and smug. Oh, if I could kill him, but the Professor's instructions were strict. Only if Holmes survived and the Professor did not, was I to shoot him. From where Curry and I were hiding, we could hear every word.
The Professor arrived a few minutes later. He strode up to Holmes with purpose. I did not like this as a meeting place. No telling what the devilish Holmes would do.
Holmes arrogantly waited for the professor with crossed arms. My God, the Professor was walking right up to him. Oh, I did not like this at all!
Holmes was a tall, muscular man, which you would not have thought considering he mainly did work with his brain. It was obvious though brain and body were both well exercised. When the Professor arrived in front of Holmes, his head was at Holmes' chest.
The professor barked at Holmes, "So, Holmes, it has come to this. Will you give me the day and leave me in peace?
"Your prattle still bores me Moriarty. You will turn yourself over to me so I can make a citizen's arrest on you."
"Holmes, are you mad? I will never give you the victory this day. Why do you think I lured you to Switzerland? Why do you think I brought you to this place? Even if you succeed in killing me, you will not escape. My friends are all over these mountains! This will be your battle of the Boyne and I shall avenge my Celtic people 1690 and King James. [QUERY: The meaning of this is unclear] Maybe one day a Stuart will rightfully rule Britain again."
Now the professor was gesturing wildly as he yelled at Holmes.
Holmes arrogantly still had his arms crossed standing only ten feet from the cauldron of hell. How foolhardy. How arrogant.
"A fine speech for the trap door opening at your hanging. I have l
earned of your father. You can emulate him in your demise."
"For the last time, Holmes, leave it be!"
"Never," Holmes barked.
"So be it!" the Professor cried. He lowered his head and tried to butt Holmes in the belly. Holmes dropped his folded arms like a lightening flash. He did not seem surprised at all. He grabbed the Professors head and twisted it. The Professor flailed wildly, but he was too short to make contact. The professor tried kicking Holmes but could not.
I realized Holmes did not want to kill the Professor but bring him back to London in chains, humiliated as Caesar humiliated Vercingetorix. Holmes was trying to subdue the Professor, whereas the Professor was trying to push Holmes over.
I knew I had to take some sort of action to prevent the Professor from being defeated and arrested. I whispered to Curry to steady his shoulder. I placed the rifle on his shoulder. I wanted to obey the Professor's instruction and not kill Holmes but have the shot break Holmes' concentration. I aimed a perfect shot just behind Holmes' head by five feet. He, of course, could hear the whistling bullet and broke his grip. This was the Professor's chance. They were now apart. Holmes turned for a second to see where the shot came from just long enough for the Professor to shove him. Holmes barely caught his balance on the edge. The two men struggled for quite a long time pushing at each other. The Professor managed to get his right leg wrapped around Holmes' left leg. They both slipped on the wet grass and over the edge they went.
I could only look in horror. My mood was broken when I heard the voice of Dr. Watson crying "Holmes, where are you?" Watson walked to the edge looked over and walked away. I did not shoot Watson because I did not want to bring that sort of attention.
"Let's go," I said to Curry. We were about to pack the rifle when Curry nudged me and whispered "Colonel, see the hand on the edge!"
Moriarty The Life and Times of a Criminal Genius Page 9