The Wilhelm Conspiracy (A Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mystery)

by Charles Veley

  Inside, I shoved my canvas sacks between the others already stacked neatly on either side of the wagon’s interior. I then crouched down beside Lucy. Harriet climbed in behind us. “I hate the dark,” Harriet said as Arkwright shut the door.

  I felt the cart turn around, lurch forwards, and then stop. “This will be the guard station,” whispered Harriet.

  We waited. Then came a man’s voice, distracted and fatigued. “Ja, fort.” We lurched forwards.

  About five minutes later, we stopped again.

  “Welcome to Bad Homburg’s busiest laundry,” Arkwright said, pulling open the door. “I have to return this wagon, but over there is the hansom cab we can take to the station. Doctor, you and Lucy can shed your whites and put on your topcoats. Then you might help me get one of the nags switched over to the hansom.”

  “Is it far to the station?” Harriet asked.

  “They’ll be watching at Bad Homburg. We’re going to Frankfurt, the next stop down the line.”

  Soon we had changed into our own clothes and appeared to be respectable travellers. Arkwright handed me a small satchel of cheap, well-worn brown leather stuffed with German currency and gave me instructions as to where I should go when we reached Baden-Baden. Then he pressed the torn half of a business card into my hand.

  He was about to explain, but at that moment we heard the sound of an approaching horse and carriage.

  Before we could hide, the carriage had come into view. My heart sank as I recognized the driver.

  It was Richter, the flaxen-haired giant who had attacked us in St. Margaret’s and abducted Herr Gruen at the Kurhaus.

  32. A CHANGE OF PLAN

  The door to the carriage opened and the man called Dietrich climbed out, while Richter climbed down from his driver’s perch. The two stood before us. “Hello, Mr. Arkwright,” said Dietrich.

  “Gentlemen.”

  “Dr. Watson and Miss James must come with us.” His tone was formal.

  “There must be a mistake,” Arkwright said.

  “There is no mistake. We have our orders from von Bülow.”

  “How did you find us?”

  “We were to follow anyone who left the Schloss. Your laundry cart has been the only vehicle to depart since the Kaiser’s last night. Now, Dr. Watson and Miss James, you will kindly get into this carriage.”

  “That’s impossible,” said Arkwright.

  “I fear we must insist,” said Dietrich. In his hand was now a wickedly curved long knife, which he held so that it pointed towards Arkwright and Harriet. “But our orders only pertain to the return of the prisoners. They do not mention those who merely assist in the escape of prisoners. You and your lady friend may remain here or go wherever it pleases you.”

  Arkwright gave a sigh. “Well, if you put it that way—” He nodded at Lucy and me, indicating we should obey the order.

  The next moment Richter and Dietrich were behind Lucy and me, shoving us towards the open carriage door, like a pair of sheepdogs herding their charges into a shearing pen.

  I pushed back from the carriage, intending to drop down to my right knee and pull Richter to the ground, allowing Lucy to escape. Lucy also was moving, turning away from me.

  But at that instant I heard a hollow, metallic cracking sound, twice, in rapid succession, behind us. Reflexively I turned around. There on the gravel were the crumpled figures of Richter and Dietrich. The larger man had been struck in the back of the head, for I saw a red stain spreading through his blond hair. Dietrich had a similar red stain discolouring the hair around his temple. Both men were still breathing. A Webley revolver lay on the ground beside them, as did Dietrich’s curved knife.

  Standing above the two men, Arkwright was gazing down on his upper right thigh. His trouser leg had been cut open. Blood was soaking the fabric. Harriet was bent over beside him, staring in horror, her hands on her knees.

  “Get into the hansom. Now!” Arkwright said. “Hurry, before these two thugs wake up!”

  I put Lucy and Harriet into the hansom. Turning back, I saw Arkwright with his belt now tied around his red-stained trouser leg, crouching over the sprawled and unconscious Dietrich. He picked up the Webley and the knife and tucked both weapons into his coat.

  Within twenty minutes, we were at Frankfurt central station. Even at that early hour, the plaza outside was crowded. Arkwright manoeuvred our cab into the queue and then, when we had climbed out, motioned me up to his driver’s seat. He pressed a wad of German notes into my hand. “Pay for three round-trip tickets to Basel; first class, of course, so you have your own compartment. You will get off the train two hours before Basel, at Baden-Baden. Harriet’s German is passable. She can tell you what to say to the ticket clerk and to the others on the train.”

  “Harriet?”

  “She must go with you. Remember, they’re looking for a middle-aged man and a young woman. Not a middle-aged man and two young women. I’ll join you when I can. Don’t let anyone touch that satchel unless he shows you the other half of that business card.”

  Several hours later our train reached Baden-Baden, stopping amidst clouds of steam and a harsh screeching of the engine’s brakes. The afternoon sun had sunk below the dark line of the mountains to our west. As we stepped down from our carriage to the wooden platform that ran alongside the tracks, the wind bit with a sharpened quality that foretold the harshness of the oncoming winter. On other tracks on the far side of the train, a northbound express thundered through, rendering us motionless with the sheer force of its mechanical power. Then it was gone.

  I walked with Lucy and Harriet down seven stone steps, through a small pedestrian tunnel beneath the tracks, and up seven more steps to the northbound platform. I glanced around, trying not to appear anxious, as we entered the station. My heart was racing and my breath came shallow in my chest.

  We passed through without incident and reached the far side of the building. Many carriages were lined up on the crowded station approach to collect passengers and luggage from the arriving train. With a sweating hand, I gripped the satchel with its precious cargo. I moved through towards the cab line, intending to hail the first cab and give the driver our address. Then I remembered Holmes’s advice. He had said never to take the first cab that presents itself, nor the second.

  I chose the third. The driver stood beside his horse. “Driver!” I called, raising my right hand and pressing forwards through the crowd.

  Then I saw that the driver was Holmes.

  He held up his hand in warning.

  Something hard and heavy smashed into my back, and, before I could turn, smashed again on the back of my head. The crowded pavement seemed to spin and diminish into an ever-shrinking circle, framed in an ever-growing ring of darkness. Then the cobblestones rushed up to collide with my falling body, and I saw only a black void.

  33. ANOTHER VISIT

  I awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. His words came in a German accent. “We will ask your friend as soon as he awakens.”

  I opened my eyes. Kneeling beside me was Holmes, and beside him, getting to his feet, was a tall military man in a close-fitting black uniform. The man’s greatcoat was embroidered with gold threads. His boots had been polished to a hard gloss, as bright as patent leather.

  Holmes was speaking. In my fogged condition, his voice seemed to echo. “I did not want to leave you, Watson. Colonel Brandt here is assisting me in our mission. His men are pursuing your attacker.”

  “What happened?” I managed to say. I struggled to stand, but the darkness surged in around me once again. I sank back down to the cobblestones.

  “You were struck from behind. It was difficult to recognize your attacker. He used a small sandbag, and took your satchel as you fell. That was perhaps five minutes ago. The blow was expertly applied. I believe you will make a rapid recovery. It would be useful if we knew the contents of the satchel.”

  My fingers explored the back of my head. There was swelling but not the sharp pang that would have
indicated a fracture. Nor was there a wound.

  “What was in the satchel, Dr. Watson?” asked Brandt.

  “Fifty thousand gold marks,” I replied. Then I remembered that Lucy and Harriet had been with me. I sat up too abruptly and felt sharp pain inside my forehead. But I was relieved to see the two young ladies standing a few feet away, peering at me from the edge of a crowd of onlookers.

  “We can wait until later for more questions,” said Holmes. “It is growing dark. Do you think you can stand and manage a ride in my cab? My hotel is the Villa Stephanie, only a short ride from here. Colonel, we shall report to you in the morning.”

  “Regrettably, I have orders to take Dr. Watson and one of these ladies—the one named Miss Lucy James—into custody.”

  Holmes’s reply was polite but firm. “You might wish to consult with von Bülow. These are my associates and I require their safety. If they are permitted to take shelter with me, then I shall be able to continue in my mission for the Kaiser.”

  “And if they are not?”

  “Then you shall have to take me into custody too. But that would significantly impair my ability to complete the Kaiser’s mission.”

  The Colonel nodded. “We shall have our discussion in the morning. I shall call on you at your hotel at nine thirty.” He snapped his fingers, and a soldier standing behind him came forward. “This man will drive your cab and see that all of you are comfortably settled. You will not be permitted to leave the hotel.”

  “Holmes,” I said, when the four of us were inside the cab, “are you sure we ought to stay at your hotel? Arkwright told us to go to a different place.”

  “Nonetheless we must change our plan. It is apparent from the attack on you that, once again, someone has penetrated our communications and is not hesitant to remind us of his capability.”

  “Our communications?” asked Lucy.

  “I placed an advertisement in the papers this morning. The telegraphed response directed me to meet the afternoon train from Bad Homburg, to present myself as a cab driver, and to watch for you. I congratulate you on your cautious selection of the third cab, of course.”

  “Might the attacker have merely been an observant street thief who thought the satchel might contain something of value?” asked Harriet. “I saw the fellow, and he was certainly dressed shabbily enough to maintain that impression.”

  Holmes lowered his voice. “I was not entirely truthful with the Colonel when I implied that I did not recognize the attacker. I am certain that beneath the battered bowler hat and the tattered overcoat was our friend Mr. Gruen.”

  We reached the hotel shortly thereafter. As we secured our rooms, I noticed that our military escort had settled down in the lobby to wait. “We shall be observed leaving or entering,” Holmes said. “I plan to depart by another exit soon, with my appearance substantially altered. Let us meet tomorrow morning for breakfast before the Colonel arrives.”

  “I will go with you,” Lucy said.

  “The best thing you can do is to stay here until we can obtain a safe passage for you tomorrow.”

  “I am not leaving until we have the jewel box,” she replied, and I saw in her green eyes the same determination that I had witnessed on previous similar occasions.

  Holmes replied, “We can discuss that in the morning.”

  Harriet said, “I want to send a telegram to London. I feel I ought to seek guidance from Lansdowne. I believe I am under his direction, not yours, Mr. Holmes.”

  “As you wish,” Holmes replied. “I am sure the concierge can help you with the arrangements.” Then he left.

  Harriet, Lucy, and I met for a light supper in the dining room. Despite my efforts to keep up my side of the conversation, I am certain they both realized I was feeling the ill effects of my injury, so our time together was relatively brief. I went to my room with the intention of preparing for sleep.

  As I opened the door, I felt a cool draft of outside air. I switched on the electric sconce light and saw that the curtain on the far wall was drawn back. The door to my balcony stood open to the night. I heard a familiar, overly courteous voice. “Please close the door behind you, Dr. Watson.”

  Stepping into my room from the balcony was Mr. Gruen, dressed in the swallowtail coat he had worn on the occasion of our first meeting, and carrying the same top hat. With precise little bird-like movements, he closed the door behind him and drew the curtain across. Once again the false expressions of friendship and apology appeared sequentially on his round, cherubic features. “I owe you a thousand apologies, Doctor. I will not keep you long. I ought not to have intruded upon you, but if you will allow me a moment’s explanation, all will be made clear. You see, I am your only true friend in all this sad affair of the electrical weapon.”

  His little dark eyes were wide with forced sincerity.

  “You were the man in the shabby coat and bowler hat.”

  “A necessary bit of camouflage, which I have discarded. As I hope you will discard any animosity that you feel towards me.”

  “How is it that you know my hotel room and are able to enter it?”

  “Commerce, sir. Perfectly simple commerce. Information is a commodity, available for a price. Hotel keys are also readily acquired. If you are wondering how I knew you were staying here, rather than at the location farther away to which Mr. Arkwright had directed you, well, that is simpler still. I observed you from the station, and then I followed you.”

  “You took a satchel from me. I suppose it provided you ample currency.”

  “I had no choice in the matter, sir, believe me. I was forced to use the direct approach, for I was being watched. My loyalty is constantly being questioned by my masters. Doing you an injury of sorts was the only way to convince them of my allegiance. Please accept my profuse and profound apologies for that effrontery. By the way, the funds have been delivered to my masters and you have been credited in full for the initial payment we discussed—has it really been only three nights since?”

  “Kindly come to the point of your visit, Mr. Gruen.”

  “Of course. I wish you to understand that I am indeed your one true friend in this matter, because only I am prepared to do what you wish—namely to return the jewel box and its highly complex contents to you and your associates. Others will approach you. They will command you. But they cannot be trusted. They will never deliver.”

  “Are you referring to the people who accosted you in Bad Homburg?”

  “They are some of the pawns in the game, sir. But yes, they are employed by those to whom I refer.”

  “And why am I so fortunate to have your friendship?”

  The fixed smile reappeared and remained as though it had been baked onto his round visage. “Because I, sir, operate from the purest of motives. I work for cash. I have no politics. I do not consider the vast military and political and economic powers that will ebb and flow between nations, depending upon whose armies and navies possess the new weapon. I do not consider the advantages to be gained by breaking a promise to one monarch and so putting him out of humour and altering his abilities to negotiate with his counterpart. I amass what stockpile I can, and when my assets have grown to a sufficient degree, I shall vanish. By the way, here is my token of sincerity.”

  He extended his hand and I saw in it the torn edge of a business card.

  I took the torn card that Arkwright had given me from my vest pocket. I inspected the edges. The two ends fitted perfectly with one another.

  “How are you and Arkwright connected?” I asked.

  “I am not at liberty to disclose any connections with anyone. Now, to business. You will receive instructions from my masters in letter form. I would urge you to obey them for the sake of appearances and, in fact, for my own protection. However, any funds you advance in accordance with those instructions will be wasted. Make whatever excuses you must, but bear that in mind. Tomorrow night you will hear from me before midnight. At that time, I shall have the jewel box in my personal possession
and will be in a position to make the exchange. You and I will not be watched this time. You will, of course, have another satchel ready, containing another fifty thousand gold marks.”

  “Which you do not intend to deliver to your masters. Whoever they may be.”

  “You grasp my meaning perfectly, Doctor.” So saying, he got to his feet with a nimbleness I would not have expected considering his bulk. “Until we meet again, Doctor. Here is the key to your room.”

  The following morning, I awoke with a clearer mind. I drew back the heavy curtains in front of my balcony door and saw dark cloudy skies, brightened just above the darker ridge of pine-forested mountains by the pale aura of the rising sun. I wondered what Holmes had done while I had slept. I recalled that the Colonel would be joining us this morning, to take Lucy and me into his custody. I recalled Mr. Gruen’s glib assurance that he would have the jewel box in his possession before midnight.

  Turning away from the window, I noticed a white envelope on the carpet before the door. The envelope was addressed to me. The letter inside was printed in black ink, employing block capital letters that were obviously meant to disguise the handwriting of the sender. The letter read, “Trinkhalle. 7:30 tonight. Come alone.”

  34. LETTERS

  Holmes, Lucy, and Harriet were already at our table in the dining room when I came down for breakfast. I asked Holmes how his researches had gone, but he gave an evasive answer. Naturally I told him of the visit from Mr. Gruen.

  “He would not be the first criminal to attempt to cut out his associates from their share of the spoils,” said Holmes. “Still, any communications from him will bear consideration. He may be telling the truth. He may indeed be able to deliver the jewel box.”