The Revenge of Sherlock Holmes

by Phil Growick

  “Again, I can’t discuss any of that. But please, Marie, just accept that we’re together again and make me this promise: that you’ll never ask me about these things again.”

  After a long moment, and with her head downwards, Marie said, “Done.”

  She then told William of the secrets she could share safely at this time; of her new identity and that Anastasia was there in London, as well. But when pressed for further news of her family, she answered him as he had her.

  “As with you, William, there are certain matters I can’t speak about; at least not at this time. Therefore, please, as you’ve asked me, please don’t ask me of these matters again. But from now on, please call me, Mary. I know you’ll do as I ask because it is important. My name now is Mary Hampton.”

  As with her answer to him, William replied, “Done.”

  They continued to sit on that bench, taking simple pleasure in the other’s mere presence.

  Lucky And Meyer And Bugsy

  “Nice place ya got here, Johnny,” Siegel said as he stepped from the cab, looking up at the building housing Holmes’ headquarters and glancing around at the neighbouring structures. “Nice neighbourhood, too.”

  “It suffices. Please, follow me upstairs.”

  Inside the doorway were a number of the most menacing-looking of Holmes’ men. Siegel immediately reached for the pistol in his overcoat pocket. The men recoiled.

  “Ben, Ben, there’s no need for that. These are my men and they carry no firearms. No need. In England there’s an unwritten agreement between the constabulary and the criminals: we don’t carry weapons and they don’t carry weapons.”

  “What kind a nutty country is this, anyway? Who ever heard of goin’ around without a gun?”

  “Puzzling, isn’t it?.” Holmes continued up the stairs as Siegel followed, still intermittently glancing back at the cluster of thugs remaining below.

  “A libation?” asked Holmes.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Siegel said, looking around, walking around, and before seating at a table, dusting the chair and the table with a very expensive silk handkerchief which he removed from his breast pocket with an outrageously ostentatious gesture.

  “Like I said downstairs, nice place ya got here. Johnny, I know you can afford better.”

  “Yes, but I like it here. It’s quiet. Out of the way of prying eyes. With only my eyes allowed to pry.”

  “L’chaim, Johnny,” Siegel said as he raised his glass to Holmes, who wasn’t partaking. “Hey, was I nuts or did I see synagogues on the way here?”

  “Quite discerning. Yes, at one point, this area was home to a very large portion of members of your faith, mostly from Poland and Eastern Europe.”

  “Holy mackerel. Just like New York.”

  “Yes; in fact, most precisely like New York. Funny, I had not made the analogy previously,” Holmes said, pondering his omission.

  “Well, everyone forgets from time to time. Now lemme see the books,” Siegel said with a mild touch of menace.

  “Of course. And I presume you will trust my scribbling?” asked Holmes.

  Siegel shrugged, “Who the hell knows?”

  From a large, locked wooden chest, something that looked like a pirate’s chest to Siegel, Holmes proceeded to disgorge large, brown accountancy ledgers; each with its own private lock. These he placed before Siegel who was laughing loudly.

  “Ben, if I might inquire, just why are you laughing?”

  “Johnny, I’m not sure if you’ll get it, but I can tell Meyer and Charlie that you served me locks. Get it?”

  Holmes stared blankly.

  “Johnny, in New York, remember we used to eat bagels and cream cheese and lox?”

  Then it came to Holmes; Siegel had just made a pun based upon an ethnic delicacy.

  “Very good, Ben, very good. Perhaps you’d like to peruse the numbers now?”

  Siegel finally stopped laughing and began his inspection.

  After long and close examination of the ledgers presented and placated, after incisive questioning of Holmes that there were no other records being hidden from his perusal, Siegel was satisfied that Holmes was “on the up and up”.

  Holmes had watched Siegel intently as he examined the records and was surprised to observe a man of high intelligence and subtle financial acumen; not just the wisecracking mobster he appeared to be.

  “Benjamin, you’ve impressed me.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “You appear to be quite well versed with income and expenditure columns and the veiled intricacies of creative accounting. I’m pleased.”

  “Yeah, well ya should be. I’d have had t’ bump you off if you were finagling the books.”

  “Yes, you already informed me.”

  “But I’m nothin’ compared to Meyer. He’s the real brain. Ever since we were little kids; and I mean little. He was already figurin’ the odds on craps in back alleys on the lower east side when he was eight. The guy’s a real genius.”

  “I suspected as much from our dealings in New York. And what about Charlie?”

  “Charlie leaves the money stuff to Meyer. Not that Charlie don’t got it in him. He does. Real good. And trust me, Johnny, Charlie will know if you’re tryin’ t’ pull a fast one. But Charlie’s more like the head of the company. Like the dagos call it, capo di tuttocapi; the boss of all bosses. Yeah, Charlie gives the final okays. But he don’t do nothin’ without Meyer and him talkin’ and agreein’.”

  “They’re like brothers, from what I could gather.”

  “Tighter. Let me tell you somethin’. Meyer is like my older brother. I love that guy like my own flesh and blood. I would do anythin’ for Meyer. But him and Charlie got somethin’ special. I don’t know how t’ put it exactly but they’re so close that Charlie could begin talkin’ and Meyer could finish what he was gonna say. And vice versa.”

  “Truly exceptional. But can you answer something that I should have asked in New York?”

  “Depends on what it is,” Siegel said.

  “This alliance you have, the Jews and Italians. We have nothing like that here. I would have expected that you would have been at each other’s throats.”

  “Yeah, we were once. We all came over about the same time and moved into the same streets in downtown Manhattan and in Brooklyn. So we started fighting for territory and we had the mick gangs to fight, too.

  “Funny, you would think the Catliks would fight together against the Jews, but maybe it’s because of tight family, I don’t know, but it seemed like the Jews and dagos were fightin’ the micks together.”

  “Extraordinary.”

  “Yeah, but the clincher was when Meyer saved Charlie’s life when they was kids.”

  “Please tell me what happened.”

  “Well, it goes back to when Meyer was maybe eight and Charlie was twelve and Charlie already had a gang he was leadin’. So late on Friday afternoon, here comes this little runt Jewish kid. And the kid has his challah money, a nickel.”

  Holmes interrupted, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Challah money,” Siegel said, as though everyone in the world with half a brain knew what it meant. “Jews can’t cook or bake or do anythin’ on Saturday because that’s our day of rest the Bible said, or somethin’ like that. So the moms would give the kids money to go to the baker on Friday and bring back the challah, the bread, because the moms couldn’t bake on Saturday.”

  “Oh, I see. But why didn’t the mothers just bake the bread on Friday themselves and save the money?”

  “How the hell do I know? Do I look like a Jewish mother?”

  “No, most certainly not,” Holmes said.

  “So anyway, Charlie tells his gang to stop this little kike and get the money. So they stop Meyer and tell him
to hand over the dough. So what does Meyer do? He’s holdin’ that nickel tight in his skinny little hand and he tells the dagos to go screw ‘emselves. But he didn’t use such a nice word. Well, they start beatin’ on Meyer but as small and skinny as Meyer was, he’s givin’ as good as he’s gettin’.

  “Now, Charlie is watchin’ all this and he sees that this kid is somethin’ else, so he calls off his gang and goes over to Meyer who’s bleedin’ and banged up, but he’s still holdin’ on t’ that nickel.

  “Charlie looks Meyer up and down and kind of smiles and tells him to beat it and not to come through his street again. Meyer gives Charlie the same look up and down and tells him to go screw himself and walks away. But Meyer is smart enough to know that this dago kid just did him a solid and he won’t forget.

  “Now a couple a weeks go by and Charlie is without his gang and he’s swimmin’ in the East River. Some mick guys swimmin’ there see Charlie and they swim over and are tryin’ to drown him when like outta nowhere Charlie feels the micks lettin’ go and he fights his way to the top and sees that Meyer is fightin’ off the micks.

  “So now it’s Charlie and Meyer givin’ the micks the business. So the micks swim off, Charlie and Meyer are kickin’ water in the East River and Meyer is smilin’ back at Charlie like ‘Were even, pal.’ And that’s how the whole thing got started.”

  “Ben, if it came from anyone else but you, I simply would not believe it.”

  “Yeah, well you can take that to the races. Now I gotta send a wire to let Charlie and Meyer to let them know that I ain’t killed ya and the booze is gonna keep comin’ t’ nobody but us. Then I’m gonna take a few days before I go back t’ New York and see if I can meet the King, and see where those dames got their heads cut off. Real culture stuff.”

  “Yes, you really must.”

  “And I gottaget me some girls. This town is swimmin’ in babes and all are willin’ to go dancin’, if ya know what I mean.”

  “Yes, there is a surfeit of young and willing women. The result of the loss of so many of our young and willing men in the Great War.”

  “Oh, yeah, I got ya. Sorry about that, Johnny. Anyway, I’m scrammin’ Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

  As Siegel walked down those stairs, he stopped at the bottom, where those same men were still standing. He looked up at Holmes.

  “Hey, how am I gettin’ back t’ the hotel.”

  “No worries; one of my men will bring you back in that same cab.”

  “Ya think he can take me t’ where you limeys did all that head cuttin’ off stuff?”

  “I’m sure it can be arranged.” Holmes looked down at one of his men, “Andrew, drive Mr. Siegel to the Tower of London.”

  The man tipped his right index finger to his cap to indicate “okay” and Siegel followed Andrew out to the cab. As he got in the back with Andrew at the wheel in front, Siegel said, “Hey, pal; how the hell do you guys drive cockeyed like that?”

  Andrew shrugged, didn’t answer and began the drive to the Tower.

  Holmes And Lloyd George And Reilly And Bugsy

  The forces of fate were converging. Churchill had set up the clandestine meeting for Holmes at an absent friend’s magnificent home in Belgravia, right on Belgrave Square. There, Holmes would surprise Lloyd George.

  Holmes had no disguise this night, other than his real facial hair and a hat pulled down as low as possible with the collar of a great overcoat pulled up as high as possible. Only his eyes showed through. He had also removed the patch. Andrew had dropped Holmes off a few houses down and waited for Holmes to return.

  Holmes was greeted by the butler who showed him into a lavish library where Lloyd George stood facing a bookcase in the opposite direction of the door. The butler closed the door behind him.

  “Prime Minister,” Holmes said with a hiss more than a voice.

  As Lloyd George turned to face the voice, Holmes was slowly removing his hat and overcoat, tossing them onto a chair.

  At first, Lloyd George was frozen, not recognizing the man before him.

  “Come, come Prime Minister. After all we’ve been to each other?”

  Then, “Holmes! But you’re dead.”

  “I think not. But you shall soon be.”

  “This is impossible. I was assured of your death.”

  “Which proves, I surmise, that we cannot trust anyone. Isn’t that true Prime Minister?”

  “This is preposterous,” Lloyd George said, in a state of disbelief, outrage and vulnerability.

  “Preposterous that I live or preposterous that you are caught, trapped. But have no fear, I shan’t harm you now. What I have planned for you is much more subtle and fitting.”

  Lloyd George was trying to move towards the door but Holmes stood blocking it.

  “What do you mean?” Lloyd George asked.

  Holmes then slowly and maliciously told him about his plan to release the proof of his perfidy and the logical assumption of the events which would follow, subsequently.

  “You’re mad, Holmes, completely mad. I had nothing to do with ordering your death. Nothing. The orders given were not given by me.”

  “Not that I would believe you in any manner, but by who then?”

  “If you recall that night at 10 Downing, the man you met secretly in a private room?”

  “The King?”

  “The same. Shortly after you left, I knocked and went into that room. He stood there at that fireplace and bade me sit. The King was not known for his intimacy with those beneath him, even with his P.M.s., so I was gratified, yet mystified, at what further he wished to discuss.

  “What concerned me almost immediately was a phrase he used, saying it to himself as I sat.”

  “Which was?” Holmes asked.

  “He said, ‘The comedy has begun’. But it was said cryptically; as if it had layered meaning. And based upon subsequent information I received towards the end of the war, I understood that meaning.”

  “Which was?” Holmes asked again.

  “That he expected the rescue to fail.”

  Holmes stood up straight in disbelief. “What fiendish lie is this?”

  “It is no lie, Holmes. Remember, when I mentioned invisible others to you at our meeting? Well, that is precisely what the King wished to impart; however he did not use that term.

  “He was not so blind that he did not see that others of very high noble rank or immense wealth had agendas that differed violently from his and my government’s. Yet those agendas remained obscure to him, as well as to me.

  “To this moment, I still do not know who ordered your death. And I also have no idea who was responsible for the false news to be released about that death. My own quiet inquiries within my special branches produced nothing to refute the verity of your death.

  “Holmes, I don’t know what you think you are going to do to me, but mark this and mark this carefully: if anything lethal should happen to me, if I took my life by my own hand, or was bitten to death by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Watson would summarily be dispensed with. This was an order I was forced to give to keep secret all I have just recounted.

  “And that order is still in force even though I’m no longer Prime Minister. I could give an arcane order at any time to have the deed done; and that would certainly follow any attempt by you at blackmail.

  “So, yes, Mr. Holmes, even though I would be disgraced, Watson would be dead.”

  In essence, I had become Lloyd George’s insurance policy.

  Holmes had now been forced to become the guarantor of my and Lloyd George’s life. And, for the first time, Holmes felt outdone. Not only because he could not move against Lloyd George as he wished, but because based upon what Holmes and the others had experienced in Russia, he could not tell if what Lloyd George had just told him was more
fiction or truth.

  In any event, Holmes’ next utterance was chillingly blasphemous and, to Lloyd George, bordering on the mad.

  Holmes said, “I shall shred this table of lies to learn the truth. God, as devil incarnate, has devised more than one way to blot out the sun.”

  With that, Lloyd George removed a revolver from his case and pointed it at Holmes, gesturing for him to move away from the door. Holmes moved, but only slightly.

  Lloyd George then called out to the butler. He called out again. But the butler didn’t come.

  Holmes And Reilly And Bugsy

  Once back in London, it was simple for Reilly to re-establish contact with those at SIS he knew he could trust, and from them, learn Lloyd George’s routine. It was public knowledge where he lived, and after that, anyone with a modicum of intelligence could follow his movements. This, Reilly did assiduously. And that is precisely how Reilly followed Lloyd George to that house in Belgravia.

  He was willing to wait for Lloyd George to re-emerge from that house and continue to follow. Then he saw an auto stop a few houses away, he watched a man walk to that house and go in; a man bundled so as not to be recognised.

  Reilly thought there something familiar about the man’s gait, but could not place it. But, he felt, if he might know this person, perhaps he was in league with Lloyd George and Reilly wanted to discover the meaning of this summit.

  He waited a sufficient time and then went to the front door. Reilly knocked and quietly subdued the butler when he opened it. He then followed the voices. With the door closed, he couldn’t make out who was in that room nor what was being said. But he removed his pistol from his overcoat and held it at the ready.

  After a moment, the door opened very slowly as Lloyd George backed out of the room, still calling for the butler. As Lloyd George emerged fully, but with the door not completely ajar, Reilly put his pistol to the back of Lloyd George’s head and would have pulled the trigger had he not heard a familiar voice shouting, “My God, Reilly, no! No!”

  Reilly looked into the room to see that it was, indeed, Holmes. He kept the pistol close to Lloyd George’s head, cocking the trigger and pushing Lloyd George back into the room. However, the pistol in Lloyd George’s hand was still aimed at Holmes.