The Journey: Illustrated Edition (An Anna Kronberg Thriller)

by Annelie Wendeberg

  Both sat frozen, with the glint of shock in their eyes.

  ‘I worked for them while feeding information to Sherlock. Eventually, we took them down. Most of them, that is. Their leader and a few of his men remained at large. The police were looking for me, for they believed I was a criminal, too. The man at the centre of the crime was searching for me as well. So I went into hiding. A few months later, this man found me and abducted my father and me, forcing me to work for him. I lived in his house for months. I developed weapons… made of… disease.’

  I swallowed my shame. ‘I broke that man and then killed him. But before he died, I shared his bed. I’m with child.’

  Garret jumped to his feet, then sank back down. His face was greenish, his breathing laboured. ‘Why did you have to do all of that? I mean, why would you willingly put yourself in such danger? And in such…’ He waved at my stomach, shook his head. ‘Was that Holmes fella not man enough?’

  ‘What does that have to do with anything, Garret? Infectious disease is my expertise!’

  ‘Ah, well, that explains it!’ he quipped.

  ‘Did you pretend to be weaker than you are so they’d move your execution forward?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘All that waiting was unbearable,’ he answered.

  I tipped my head; I could understand this well enough. ‘Would you let me examine you?’

  ‘Sure.’ He began to pick at his socks, apparently not overly interested in my offer.

  ‘Would you give us some privacy?’ I asked Barry.

  After the boy had left, I walked up to the man who had been my lover for years. I placed my hand on his cheek and, for a moment, his forget-me-not eyes fluttered shut. ‘Can you forgive me?’ I whispered.

  ‘For what? That you lied to me for years? That you never loved me in return?’

  My hand dropped to my side. Before I could answer, he continued, ‘You told me from the first day that you couldn’t share everything with me, certain… information. I could have figured it out myself. I could have followed you. And I once did. You went into the cobbler’s at Bow Street. And I stood there, waiting for you to come out again, wondering what you were doing in there. But it felt like I betrayed your trust, so I left. I believed that one day, you’d be able to tell me. And you just did. I shouldn’t complain.’

  ‘Are you shocked?’

  ‘That you worked as a doctor? No. But I’m shocked to see distance in your face. I’m shocked to see you with child, knowing that you don’t want it and that…’ He picked up my hand again. ‘Did he force himself on you?’

  ‘No. But there were no warm feelings. Climbing into his bed seemed like my only way out.’

  He dropped his head and squeezed my knuckles. ‘Come, Anna. Do your thing.’ A rasp of a whisper.

  I cleared my throat and he rose to his feet. For want of a stethoscope, I pushed my ear on his ribcage. ‘Deep breath, Garret.’

  There were the all-too-typical rattling noises, up in the bronchi and farther down in the lungs. The left side seemed to be affected; the right side sounded clear. ‘Do you cough blood?’ I asked.

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘How often?’

  ‘Since three or four weeks, every morning; every night too. At the end of each bout, a lot of… stuff comes up my throat. Some of it is bright red.’

  He placed a kiss on my forehead. ‘Don’t worry about me. You just extended my life.’

  ‘People live with consumption for years, Garret.’ I knew that the disease must have progressed dramatically in Newgate and that he might not have years left. ‘Dammit! You are strong. I want you out of London. Breathe fresh air. Live by the sea, in a warm and clean house. Eat good food. You’ll be better in days.’

  ‘Come with me, Anna.’ He pressed his face in my hair and my chest to his.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I cannot settle down now. Three men are still hunting me. They want to take the child once it’s born, then kill me. Sherlock and I will arrest them.’

  ‘You will arrest them? You are with child. Do you want to risk its life? If that Holmes is such a sharp one, he can arrest them without you.’

  ‘I guess he could. But with me, it’s easier. The rats gather quicker when one offers them bait.’

  ‘That is…’ he fought for words, ‘idiotic!’

  ‘No. It’s logical. I’m safer playing the bait.’

  ‘Bollocks! Come with me, Anna. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll care for you and your child. It can be ours.’

  ‘I love another man,’ I whispered.

  ‘Ah,’ he breathed and pushed himself away to sit on the armchair. ‘And yet…’

  I sat on the armrest, my hand on his. ‘How come you let yourself be caught?’

  He laughed out loud. I had asked this same question just before I spent my first night with him. I had been ill, running a dangerously high fever, and he had taken care of me, working on lowering my temperature for hours. Since that night, I trusted him.

  ‘I burgled the house of a woman. She was a police inspector’s widow, as I learned later. He must have taught her things. She came at me from behind. I heard her only when it was too late. She crashed a crystal vase on my head. That woman was tall and strong enough to slam me on the head and knock me out!’ He buried a chuckle in his sleeve, then sobered up. ‘I woke up in a cell.’

  He examined my small hand in his large one and said, ‘I’m not a gent. I cannot live in a nice house. I’d feel awful if I had servants. The more awful the more they’d try to make me feel comfortable.’

  ‘You grew up in the countryside. Don’t you want to keep sheep again?’

  A smile flitted across his face. I could almost see him — the little boy Garret when he held newborn lambs to their mother’s teats.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll find a small farm. Barry needs a home, Garret. He has hardened almost beyond repair.’

  He nodded, his face scrunched up in concentration. ‘I need a… a little time. Two hours ago, I thought I was dead. Now I learn that you are a rich widow, that I’m free, and you want me to leave, probably to never see you again. And you love someone else. My head hurts.’ He patted my hand, then took it and placed it in my lap. I was being dismissed.

  Before I closed the door, he called, ‘Send Barry in, if you see him.’

  — twelve —

  I stood at the window of my room. Below me bustled the multitude of everyday lives. I watched the comings and goings, gentlemen tipping their hats at ladies, porters being weighed down by monstrosities of suitcases, children dashing along and there! — a girl picking a man’s pocket. She got away before he entered the hotel, clueless.

  I closed my eyes and leant against the glass pane. On either side of me was a row of rooms, each providing a home for a day or two, each containing a puzzling story and an aching heart. Barry, who had lost his entire family to poverty and disease. Garret, who had lost his roots and his only love. If I could hold him now, just once, as though we were lovers one last time, I would. Only it would cause him more pain than not being held.

  That half-love I had given him was just as cruel as half a non-love. And yet, he was ever forgiving. A gentle giant of a man who had shown me that lovemaking has nothing to do with violence, that there is only giving and forgiving. He had been a steady factor in my life while I revolved around him, always buzzing, always changing shape from male to female and back again. And he had known nothing about it. Until today.

  I pushed away and left my room to knock at Sherlock’s. His footfall made my heart leap. He opened and I saw caution in his face. ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  He stepped back and let me in. ‘I don’t know where Wiggins is. He was supposed to find you in St Giles and bring you to Mycroft at once.’

  ‘And Moran?’

  ‘Three of my street arabs are tailing him. Two are searching for Wiggins. I’m still waiting for messages. What are your
plans with the money?’

  ‘Isn’t it safe now?’

  ‘Of course it is. But its purpose cannot be to sit in a bank.’

  ‘No, but it’s much more than I thought—’

  ‘On the contrary,’ he interjected. ‘It’s what I expected it to be. Moriarty came from a rich and old family. He has organised all major crimes in London, if not in the whole of England and parts of Europe. I calculated his riches to be on the order of one to three million. I’m surprised you didn’t.’

  ‘I never spent a single thought on it. As for plans what to do with it — I’ll need some thinking time, but do appreciate suggestions. Regarding his will — I believe he had made one, which he hastily destroyed after I poisoned him.’

  ‘Yes, that is probable.’

  We hadn’t moved. We still stood in the centre of the room, four feet apart. Where did this distance came from all of a sudden? ‘Tell me what happened. Whom did Moran contact? What kept you from meeting me at the station?’

  He took a step back, nodded, then began pacing the room. ‘Moran went to the post office. I found it notable that he made Parker wait outside so he could keep the destinations of the telegrams secret. After the two had left, I convinced the woman at the counter that the content of the telegrams and the identity of the recipients were a matter of the safety of the British Empire and that she was not allowed to tell anyone, nor to keep it in writing anywhere.

  ‘She assured me the law forbade her to release any such information and that I must be mistaken, because the man had sent only a single telegram, and not several. I demanded that she at once burn the slip he had handed her and any copies of it. She was sufficiently shocked. She handed over the slip, swearing by her mother’s grave that no copies existed and begging me to burn it on the spot.’

  A grin flickered across his face. ‘Of course, I couldn’t decline. I’ll take the night train to Edinburgh to arrest Dr Joseph Walsh at the Dundee Medical School. He and Moran are the last of the men who had a direct connection to Moriarty and our case. Parker is Moran’s footman and he’ll not know more than absolutely necessary. There is a great number of criminals who had dealings with Moriarty’s men, but they are of little importance to our case.’

  I sank into the armchair. The ruse had been a success; Moran had given away the identity of a long-sought man. Memories of more than two years of chasing James and his men washed over me, memories of dead people thrown into Broadmoor’s enormous furnace, of my murdered father, of disease, torture, and death. I sucked in as much breath as my lungs would allow and let it out with a sigh.

  ‘You said you don’t have enough evidence against Moran. I could serve as a witness if the Yard wasn’t looking for me.’

  ‘They are not. I made sure they understood the role you played as Dr Anton Kronberg and that all notes in which you appear must be destroyed to protect you. Lestrade profits too much from my services. He did as I asked.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you.’ I looked up at him, but he kept his back towards me.

  ‘It would still be your word against Moran’s. That you masqueraded as a man for years will be made public. You’ll lose your title. Depending on the mood of the judge, you might even be deported. Under the circumstances, you don’t make for a good witness.’

  ‘What can we do, then?’

  ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ he answered. ‘Moran will have learned that all of Moriarty’s funds are to be transferred to you. I’m quite certain the family is loyal to Moriarty’s plan for your assassination and the kidnapping of the child in three years time. So they’ll have promised Moran compensation for his services. Now, with the money gone, we can expect their full wrath. On the one hand, they are told the heir-at-law is dead; on the other, they hear about your visit to the solicitors and the pregnancy being intact.

  ‘Moran being threatened by unemployment, and the family by an unusually low budget, they must either find proof of the miscarriage or will kidnap the child as soon as it’s born, kill you, and let it appear to be an accident or death during childbirth. Then they can take custody of the child, who will also inherit your dower.’

  ‘And their world will be perfect,’ I murmured.

  ‘Precisely. What happens next depends on Moran’s nerve. Will he be furious because we keep fooling him? Or will he have enough control, loyalty, or need for funds that he will make plans on how to catch us?’

  ‘The latter,’ I said. ‘Moran is a hunter. We both know this. He is an excellent planner and can keep a cool head. He’ll try to find a way to get to you first, I believe, because you are an irresistible challenge. I am an easier prey, for I’m only a woman and soon I’ll be so large that I can barely waddle away from him.’

  ‘Which brings us back to Watson. Moran will try to kidnap Watson and use him as bait to force my surrender; at least, that’s what I would do. I need your assistance. Keep an eye on Watson, please. Carry the revolver with you at all times. I need to act quickly to arrest Dr Walsh, and I’m quite certain that Moran’s first step will be to find proof for the heir-at-law’s death. Therefore, he has to talk to the Moriarty family and to their solicitors. He’ll be too busy accomplishing this during the next three days while I’m gone. I wish I could send Wiggins to your aid, but the boy is nowhere to be found.’ His lips compressed as he pointed to a note on the table.

  ‘Addresses?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’ He walked to his armchair, retrieved his already stuffed pipe, and lit it.

  ‘Don’t worry about Watson. I’ll keep him safe.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, shrouded in blueish smoke.

  ‘You took the same train as Moran and Parker,’ I began. ‘When you arrived at Victoria Station, or shortly thereafter, something happened. Something that kept you from contacting me. What was it?’

  ‘I decided that it was more efficient to ask my street arabs to take care of you while I did everything in my powers to arrange your dower and prepare for an arrest of Walsh.’ He didn’t even look at me. ‘How is your Irish friend?’

  ‘I believe he has tuberculosis.’ My brain began to rattle. I observed him puff his pipe, the tightness of his lips, his half-closed eyes, his body slightly facing away from me. The once-open book was now shut. With a pang, I realised that he had withdrawn his help as far as necessity allowed and planned to send me back into Garret’s arms.

  ‘I understand.’ I made to leave his room. The rustling of my dress was too loud in my ears. I wished I could disappear like a mouse — unnoticed.

  ‘I believe Mr O’Hare is the better choice.’

  ‘Propose to him, then,’ I answered and closed the door behind me.

  I paced my room, trying to walk away from emotions that tangled my thoughts and slowed my mind. I made plans for purchasing a small farm for Garret and Barry, or rather, arranging for Garret to buy it so as not to involve my name. That way, they’d be safe should Moran think of using my friends as bait to get to me. I doubted Moran even knew about the two.

  Until James’s money became accessible to me, I would try to find a suitable property.

  — thirteen —

  Half an hour after Sherlock left, knuckles hit wood. ‘Mrs Saunders? My sincerest apologies, but Mr Wright asked us to let you know when a young man of the name Wiggins called. He is in the hall and appears rather… tattered.’

  ‘Hold him there!’ I called, jammed my feet into my shoes, and tried to smooth the most dramatic crinkles from the dress.

  The boy was standing at the front desk, one elbow resting on the wooden table, legs half crossed, one hand in his trouser pockets. ‘Wiggins!’ I hissed, and the boy straightened up in a snap.

  ‘Ma’am, I have… Where’s Mr Hol—’

  ‘Quiet now!’ I shot at him, took the boy’s arm, and led him to a group of armchairs in a far corner of the entrance hall. ‘There, sit and tell me everything.’

  ‘Where’s Mr Holmes?’ the boy repeated.

  ‘On a train. He asked me to interview you.’

&nb
sp; Wiggins swallowed and began, ‘The boys caught me at Bow Street, saying the men they were tailing were coming. I said no, this isn’t going to work, and I said we mustn’t let him come here and find the lady. Er… you.’

  He almost poked his finger in my chest. Then, noticing the affront, his ears began to glow. He adjusted his cap. ‘Anyway. The boys and I pretended to mug them. Or mugged them, really. Got bad, I tell you. Everyone was punching everyone.’

  He pulled up both sleeves, showing blood-encrusted elbows, then lifted his cloth cap and revealed a large bump. ‘But we got his watch before the rozzers came.’ A satisfied grin slashed across his face.

  I knew that watch. Moran fancied gold. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Boys and I split up. They kept following the two. I went to the address Mr Holmes gave me, then waited. But you didn’t come.’ He squinted at me as though I was the culprit.

  ‘What did you do then?’

  ‘Went to the baked potato man,’ the boy squeaked.

  I tried not to slap my forehead. ‘Where are the boys now? Weren’t they supposed to report to Mr Holmes?’

  ‘Er… they didn’t dare show up. Was no use anyway. Wouldn’t get paid by him, would they?’

  ‘Because they lost Moran and Parker?’ I asked. The boy nodded. I wondered why he had bothered coming here. Ah! He must have seen Sherlock leave and hoped he would get paid by me. ‘Where did the boys lose them?’

  ‘Just past Guilford Road, South Lambeth,’ he answered.

  ‘They knew they were followed.’

  Wiggins dropped his head, nodding.

  ‘Moran is a tough nut to crack,’ I said. ‘He knows he’s being chased.’ I retrieved coins from my purse, sorted through them, and handed him six sovereigns. ‘You boys did excellent.’

  With an expression of incredulity, he crammed the money into his trouser pocket, lifted his cap, and pushed it back on his head. Then he dashed off, coins tinkling.

  I watched him disappear. He was a quick one. Once I’d seen his injuries, I’d decided I wouldn’t ask him for help with Moran.