Sherlock Holmes and the Houdini Birthright

by Val Andrews

  PART THREE

  The Magyar Connection

  I had read something of the fate of Hungary during the aftermath of the Great War. I knew that the monarchy had been replaced, following the assassination of Franz Joseph, with a regime which promised to be of a democratic nature but which, as so often happens in such circumstances, turned out to be quite repressive. The great Austro-Hungarian Empire had been divided into numerous smaller states with results that would later prove a lack of wisdom.

  We found Budapest to be a still great and lively capital, with cafe life and culture still strong yet with an underlying atmosphere of intrigue. As visiting foreigners we were regarded with great suspicion, followed more than once by strange furtive men, too obvious to be taken seriously as secret agents. Holmes indeed found them amusing and insisted on leaving little clues for them on cafe tables and then dropped ostentatiously into refuse boxes. These took the form of little sketches of the famous cross with serpent and of the union jack. From the main office of the registry of births and deaths we were directed to seek the registry at the Pest Jewish congregation at number twelve Sip Street, in that ghetto. A very different scene was presented by the Jewish quarter where the busy and serious-looking population contrasted strangely with the Hungarians of the city centre. Rows of neat but extremely basic little houses gave way to tenement blocks, from which emerged the tailors and goldsmiths who would have looked just as at home in parts of London's East End. None of the Tzigane influence here, rather an atmosphere of hard work and honesty. I had read often that a Hungarian would steal anything, yet in this Jewish quarter I felt safe and would have trusted any one of the people we encountered.

  Twelve Sip Street proved to be a large and sombre building containing row upon row of dusty-looking, well bound but ageing volumes of records.

  Holmes spoke to the assistant in German, as he had little Hungarian, and fortunately was understood. The correct volume was produced and for the payment of a tiny sum we were permitted to examine it. There, at last, was the elusive Ehrich Weiss, born to Samuel and Cecelia Weiss (nee Steiner) on 24 March 1874. Holmes entered the exact wording of the document into his note pad.

  As we made our way back to the city centre hotel where we were staying, Holmes remarked, 'Well Watson, we have established beyond doubt the birth place and date of our late friend. It is rather as I suspected. His parents took him to the United States as a very young baby, possibly even smuggled him in and later claimed that he was born in Appleton. Evidently no one has ever thought to questio/p>Vn this but I fear that Mrs Houdini might find her insurance with Acme null and void should this be revealed.'

  'Do you intend to make this fact known to them, or to anyone else?' I asked him.

  He shook his head. 'Come Watson, unless questioned upon this fact by some official authority we are not obliged to volunteer it. Our next quest is for the leaders of that organization which employed friend Zoltan and others; for there lies any chance of proving foul play concerning Houdini's death.'

  'Perhaps we have only to make ourselves known to those who rather obviously follow us about?'

  Holmes smiled. 'Oh no, Watson, the men you refer to are a little too obvious to be members of a secret society. My experience of that breed tells me that they would be far more - how can I put it - professional? No, the men in the trenchcoats are agents of the Hungarian government. They know not what they follow us for save that we are foreigners who ask a lot of questions. Those that we seek are of similar beliefs but they want to use a stronger iron fist than do the government.'

  When we returned to our hotel room, our need to speculate on when we would meet Zoltan's organization was quickly removed. Two men were in the room and one of them, who was sitting upon my bed, was holding a revolver as if actually in waiting for us, whilst the other looked up from a search of our luggage. The man with the gun grinned and said in English, 'Please enter gentlemen, we want to have a little talk with you.'

  The man who was busying himself with our luggage put down Holmes's Gladstone and crossed to the door, closing and leaning back against it. The man on the bed gestured with his gun. 'Be seated Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson, you are in no danger, yet.'

  Holmes and I sat upon the other bed and observed our captors. At length Holmes said, 'What is it that you want from us, Mr Zoltan?'

  The gunman started, but only very slightly. Then grinned broadly. 'How do you know my name?'

  'From the scar on your neck,' replied Holmes, 'in just the right position to have been caused by the gold chain when Houdini tore it from your neck.'

  I noticed that there was indeed a long scarcely healed scar on the left side of his neck.

  Zoltan's smile melted slowly. 'What else do you know?'

  'Not a great deal, save that you caused several accidents to happen to Houdini, including the episode with the Montreal student which resulted in Houdini's death. I was hoping that you would be able to tell me why you wanted to kill him.'

  Zoltan smiled most menacingly. 'No harm in telling you now, as you are not likely to leave Budapest alive. In fact, I doubt Mr Holmes if you or your busybody friend will even leave this hotel room. We are members of Magyar Straum, a society that believes that the new government, installed as League of Nations puppets, are not doing enough to clean the last of the aristocrats from the face of the earth.'

  Holmes made to take out his notebook but the gun was pushed into his chest. 'Please take a small notebook from my inside jacket pocket, if you will not allow me to do so.'

  ZBudwidth="oltan patted Holmes' pockets then, reassured, signed for him to carry on. Holmes brought forth the book and turned to show the drawing of the cross. 'This is your insignia is it not? Hardly a secret society, I think.'

  The man who was standing near the door spoke to Zoltan in Hungarian but Zoltan waved him to silence, 'My friend wants to dispose of you now but I think you may know even more that could interest our leader. You and your friend will walk out of this hotel with us and you will use any acting ability you might have to make the four of us seem like the best of friends. One false move, one foolish word and we will blow your heads off.'

  Our feet were heavy as, with fixed smiles, we walked out of the hotel with our captors. They propelled us into a yard, rather like a huge roofless garage. Therein stood parked a huge lorry with an all-steel body. Aside from the driving cab the only entry to the vehicle was by means of two large rear doors which were secured by means of a solid bar, passing through an iron staple on each door. Immense iron padlocks were the means of security. It seemed obvious to me, that once inside the vehicle, there was no possible way out unless one's captors released the locks. Moreover, the inside of the van was lined entirely with zinc.

  'By sheer coincidence this is the exact twin of the Siberian prison van from which Houdini actually escaped on his tour of Russia but unless you have the powers of the great Houdini - and I am sure you have not - you will not escape,' said Zoltan. 'Climb inside and you will be safe until we fetch our leader and take you to our headquarters. He is in a Mazurka bar round the corner, he doesn't like to get involved in the physical side of our activities.' We were forced inside the vehicle at gun point, being told, 'Shout all you want, once closed it will be quite soundproof.'

  My spirits reached an all-time low as the doors were slammed and we were locked inside the vehicle, unable even to see. I spoke quietly to Holmes, I don't know why, for there was no way that I could be heard save by him. 'Holmes, do you think they really mean to kill us?'

  'Probably' he said, 'but I don't intend for us to hang around and find out.'

  He struck a vesta. His face and form assumed eerie proportions by the flickering light of the match. He dropped to his knees and I could just make out that he was examining the inside base of the doors. He chuckled softly. I could not for one moment find anything to be amused by.

  'We are not done yet, Watson. Would you believe it if I told you that among those details and plans in the secret box, destined eventua
lly for Walter Gibson, was the secret of his escape from the Siberian prison van?'

  I gasped. 'And...and you looked at it and can remember what he did?'

  As he dropped the spluttering vesta, he said, 'Yes. It was not easy for Houdini because he was one man alone. Fortunately he was extremely strong. We are even more fortunate for there are two of us. The number and strength of the locks outside is academic, my dear Watson. What Houdini did was to notice that the doors were on pin hinges. In theory they could be lifted clear of the holding sites. To do this he extended the fingers of both his hands under the base of the locked doors. By exerting remarkable strength he was able to lift them clear, step outside and replace them! I am a strong man and so are you. Between us I believe we can do it.'

  ign="JUSTIFY" height="7" width="0"> Although the iron doors were incredibly heavy, we were able to extend our four sets of fingers through the space at the base and, on a signal from Holmes, we lifted them clear of their sockets. As we dropped those doors, so willingly, a rush of heavenly fresh air reached us but there was no time for rejoicing and we had to get clear before the gunmen returned. Holmes asked me if I had ever driven a motor van. I replied truthfully to the effect that I had driven a motor car. Holmes pushed me into the driving cab so that I sat behind the wheel. He climbed up into the single passenger seat and said, 'It's up to you now old chap, get us out of here!'

  I reversed, crashing out through the flimsy garage gates and turned to take us away from that place at a steady twenty miles an hour. I had to slow down to negotiate a corner for we had reached the point where the gloomy street turned, to lead into one of similar darkness. As I slowed, Zoltan and his henchman leapt lightly onto the right-hand footboard. Zoltan leant through the opened window and brandished his revolver, saying, 'I don't know how you did that but it has done you no good. I'm going to have to dispose of you now!'

  There was an explosion, followed by another and Zoltan and his friend fell into the road. It was they, not we, who had been shot. I braked, although the van had been but crawling and we both leapt out to be greeted by a gunman; the very one who had dispatched Zoltan and his companion. My instincts as a medical man made me start back to see if there was any sign of life in the two fallen men but the newly arrived gunman brandished his weapon and signalled for us to follow. As we walked with him we made attempts at communication in English, German and French. He evidently understood only Hungarian and shouted at us in that language. 'Out of the frying pan eh?' I muttered to Holmes.

  'But while there is life eh, old fellow?' He was ever the optimist. The gunman walked us to a large saloon motor car, the make of which I cannot say. He pushed us into the back seats and drove with his left hand only on the wheel, the right holding his revolver pointed in our direction over his left shoulder.

  Holmes muttered. 'So you failed to bring your service revolver this time Watson?' I had to admit that I had surrendered it to the authorities some years before.

  The big powerful car picked up speed as we drove through the outskirts of the city. Then suburbs gave way to open country where eventually there were occasional farms and vast fields of corn. After we had been driving for perhaps two hours (I did not dare make the movement required to take out and consult my watch), the country became even more open and almost wild. The few people that we passed appeared to greet the driver with a strange cross-armed salute which his driving and threatening activities prevented him from acknowledging.

  The wild country gave way, ultimately, to a forest and we drove for many miles along a narrow track. Eventually the car stopped and we were ordered out. Our captor pushed us before him along a track, too narrow for the car, culminating in a footpath. Finally, we had not even this path to follow as he dragged us through a thicket. It was at this point that I turned suddenly and foolishly attempted to disarm him. Holmes was at my shoulder, backing me up, but the revolver eluded my grasp, was fired and unfortunately Holmes was wounded. As the gunman quickly regained his control of us I was happy to perceive - as I was just about able to in the semi-darkness - that Holmes had received only a glancing wound on his left forearm.pedeft for He breathed, 'Easy does it, my dear Watson, easy does it!'

  Then, as we walked clear of the thicket, we suddenly saw that which it had concealed. It was a castle of most attractive and ancient appearance. We were marched across a moat by means of a drawbridge, which was raised as we entered the castle itself.

  Inside we found ourselves in a huge hall, heated by a roaring log fire, around which sat persons of both sexes. I do not suggest that they were dressed in a style of a previous century but their clothing was far from modern with Magyar-style military uniforms much in favour. Our captor introduced himself and we quickly discovered that his refusal to converse in English had been deliberate and not because he did not understand that language.

  'I am Captain Maroc, I have no idea who you are but I realized that you were enemies of the Magyar Straum and therefore entitled to rescue and interrogation. Who knows, I might have to shoot you myself, but at least you will get a fair hearing. Meanwhile, a comfortable room awaits you and in the morning we will decide what to do with you. What are your names?'

  'My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.' There was an uncomfortable silence followed by angry mutterings from the company present. It was evident that Holmes's exploits had reached this remote Magyar province but it was also evident that Holmes's introduction of ourselves was not accepted for its truth. Maroc said, angrily, 'You will get nowhere here by exercising your British sarcasm. Now come with me to your room. I had decided to house you well but now I have changed my mind!'

  Maroc all but pushed us down a flight of rude stone steps and took us into what I can only describe as a dungeon from the Middle Ages. He swung shut and locked a huge wooden door to contain us. A minute or so later he returned with a candle, half a loaf of bread and a flask of water. He left these with us and I was glad that I was neither hungry nor yet thirsty.

  Holmes grinned ruefully, his sharp features thrown into relief by the candlelight. 'I say, Watson, rather exciting this last adventure of ours which may prove to be just that though I rather doubt it. I went to the cinema in Eastbourne a few months ago. The film was excellent, The Prisoner of Zenda. This apartment reminds me of a scene from the film, though I don't feel a bit like Lewis Stone. On the other hand, you have that pawky look, displayed by Rupert of Hentzau.'

  Despite my disgust at the light way in which he treated our predicament, I took the trouble to attend to his wound as best I could. I cleaned it with my linen handkerchief and some of the water from the flask. Then I tore some strips from that same article to bandage his forearm.

  'Where are your Houdini secrets now, Holmes? Will they help us out of this scrape?' He lay down upon a pile of straw and actually started to go to sleep. I noticed a horrific great rat running across the floor; it must have weighed about two-and-a-half pounds. I pointed it out to Holmes, who opened one eye and said, 'Ah yes, the common brown rat, rattus vulgaris.' And with that he actually went to sleep.

  A shaft of sunlight extending itself through a slit in an outside wall - a slit through which arrows would have been released - told me that it was day. I had not slept but had sat up all night by the light of the candle watching the rat and his many friends and relatives making r goves makegular excursions. They ate most of the bread that we had been left and I made no move to stop them. Holmes slept soundly and the rats gave him a wide berth, though I had no faith that they would do the same for me should I too lie on the straw.

  Suddenly there were footsteps and the door swung open to reveal our old friends, Maroc and his revolver. He snapped a command, 'Wake up, come with me!' We followed him obediently enough and he led us through the hall which we had seen the night before and into a further room: more splendid, beautifully furnished with huge antique chairs and silken embroidered wall hangings. Two extremely attractive women sat in chairs and serving people came and went.
At the far end of the room stood a stocky figure in a military uniform who might have graced a comic opera. His back was to us, for he was gazing out of a window, the first in the castle that I had seen.

  Maroc spoke, in reverent tones, 'Your Highness, here are the two prisoners I told you about.' Then he turned to us and said, 'This is Prince Ehrich.'

  To my surprise, Holmes said, 'Why yes, I had expected to see His Highness. How are you ... Mr Harry Houdini?' The stocky figure turned and stood there, then leant forward from his waist, raising his head and bestowing upon us a most beatific smile, of the kind that had captivated several generations of theatre-goers. As for me, I fainted clean away for only the second time in my life (the first occasion being when Holmes reappeared before me, four years after plunging to his death over the Reichenbach Falls).

  When I came to myself again, Holmes and Houdini were both leaning over me with some concern. Houdini almost carried me to a large, comfortable chair. He clapped his hands and ordered food and drink for us and soon the three of us were seated around a small table partaking of hot coffee, rolls and honey.