I followed the railway for about a mile. Where it came to a fork, I turned right. The stars were still ablaze above me, and the bright circular moon superbly illuminated the landscape. I carried on with great haste until I saw the rail yard. The yard itself was laden with freight cars. Adjacent to the yard stood a large brick building, which had been painted an off-yellow colour. The building, I assumed, served as a loading bay. I dismounted, and led my white and brown horse along the tracks. There was a small wood and I decided to hide the horse in there. I tied it to a tree. As I walked down the path, keeping an eye on the rail yard, I straightened my new hat. I withdrew my fob watch, and saw the time was quarter past one.
Stealthily, I crept into the yard and saw two men step from the building. One seemed to be looking at his watch, and the other was smoking a cigar. A train whistle blew in the distance. The men perked up at its sound, so I made my way closer. Dodging in and out of cars, hiding in shadows, I got nearer and nearer. The ground began to rumble as the powerful locomotive charged ahead. In the distance, light from inside the engine room glowed, and I could hear the breaks screeching as the train began to slow down. I watched as the train drew near and stopped alongside the platform where the two men stood. The name Pemberton Rail was painted on the engine. Four men stepped out of one of the freight cars. There was something familiar about the men, but I could not make it out. Staying to the shadows, I moved forward enough to hear their talk.
“Bit early tonight,” said one of the two men I saw upon arrival.
“We’ve had a heck of a time,” said one of the men.
“We can see that. We got your shipment from New York earlier today. Everything has been stored away.”
“Good work! Well, let’s get this stuff unloaded so we can call it a night!”
I watched as the men went to work unloading unmarked crates from the car and bringing them into the building.
“Did ya hear what happened?” said another of the four men to one of the two.
“Nah, what’s happen’d?” he asked.
“The whole New York compound went up in smoke. Some bird was sniffing about, apparently she ‘ad some important people on our tail after Dog here killed her husband. Saw the place explode from a boat out in the bay. Quite the sight!”
“Golly! Sounds like a pr’tty close call!”
I recalled Miss Adler telling me that when she was captive, one of the men she called an outlaw was named Dog. It was this man who killed Norton! The very men Holmes and I saw leave pier 4 and get onto the steamboat.
“So, with all this extra opium are we goin’ to get a treat?”
“I suppose we could,” said the man who had been indicated earlier as Dog. “Can’t have too much though, this is our bread and butter. Ivory’s already got plans for a new set up, just working things out with the boss. And if he finds out we took some, boy your life ain’t worth spit.”
Holmes was correct. The entire operation was driven on opium.
“Who’s to say one of the crates wasn’t damaged, right?” one of the outlaws said, and the group laughed in agreement.
“How much longer is this going to take? We got another shipment to deal with tomorrow afternoon, and I’d rather get some sleep than suck some opium,” another outlaw said.
We had them! The outlaws would be here at least until tomorrow. I needed to get back to Holmes and tell him. We could warn the sheriff and bring these men to justice and hopefully be led to this man, Ivory, and learn why Norton was killed! I crept away. I placed my foot, unknowingly, onto a large iron nail. It rolled as I pressed off and I fell to the ground in a commotion.
“Who’s that stumbling around in the dark?” yelled an outlaw. “State your business or prepare to get winged!”
I had no time to lose. I could not foil our plans and be caught by these bandits. I raced through the wood. The men shouted as they saw me dart off. The sound of guns firing echoed in the night. Whizzing bullets flew past me. War is the same, no matter where you are. If I did not outrun my enemies, I’d wind up with another wound, and perhaps this time it would be fatal. I found my horse still tied. Dark figures were following after me still. Quickly I untied the steed and jumped upon its back. The men were shouting, but the bullets had ceased. Coming out onto the main road, a way behind I saw two men also on horses.
They spotted me, and the chase continued. Their revolvers roared again. I withdrew my service revolver and returned fire. Ahead were two more men upon horses. Guns were drawn and shots fired. I turned the horse, and we raced into a thick wood. Four men were charging after me. I wished for the moon and stars to be hidden. The visibility for targeting was far too easy on this night. A bullet flew right past my head. One of the men was gaining upon me. As steadily as I could, I aimed and fired one shot. The man fell from his horse. My horse suddenly jerked, frightened, and I fell off into a creek.
The water was moving swiftly and carried me along. I fumbled for sometime and eventually grabbed hold of a low branch. Pulling myself out of the water, I fell upon the bank.
Forcing myself up I ran in the best direction that would take me back to the Rose Inn. I felt disoriented as I charged on. I came out to a dirt road and I looked it up and down. Which way would lead me back to my companions? I thought. I could hear the shouts of the outlaws not far off. A shot was fired. Up the road I could see a dark figure on a horse. My heart began to race as the rider blazed towards me as the gunfire echoed. I crept back into the wood and watched, with relief, as the rider passed me by.
I walked back out onto the road and ran up the road. Suddenly I fell back as horse burst from the woods. It rose on its hind legs and waved it’s front before slamming its hooves with each shaking force. There was a horseman on the creatures back, and a gun was aimed at my head.
“Hold steady,” said the rider to the horse. I kept still. Under the moonlight I could see the rider had a thick beard mouth. Their eyes barely visible under their hat. “You got yourself into a bit of old, ain’t ya?” they said. “We got some people who want to talk to you, put these on.” The man threw over a pair of metal handcuffs. I didn’t move. “Boy, you put those on, or you’ll find yourself with the angels soon.” I bent down to pick them up. A gun went off and I fell to the ground putting my hands over my head. There was a moment of silence and I heard a thud. I looked up and saw the rider lying on the ground. I turned behind me to see a figure. The slowly approached.
“Get up,” they told me.
I rose to my feet slowly.
“Thank you,” I said looking upon my rescuer, or capture I could not be sure. They wore a cloth around their face and a low hat.
“Need to be more careful, Doctor,” the figure told me pulling the cloth down.
“Adler!” I said. “How did you find me?” She was disguised in men’s clothing. She wore a hat to hide her long and beautiful hair.
“I followed you, in case you needed help. Silly of Holmes to send you alone, really.”
“Thank God you were here.”
“Do you still have your revolver?” I felt around, it had been lost int he creek.
“No, it’s gone.”
“Here, take this,” Miss Adler handed me a new revolver.
“There they are!” cried someone in the distance.
“We need to run!” Miss Alder said.
I followed her lead and soon I saw the familiar sight of the stone bridge which covered the falls where we stood earlier. We slid down a steep hill and rolled into the open grass. My heart pounded as we ran across the stones, over the bridge, through the park, and to the Rose Inn. More shots were fired. I could hear the bullet colliding with the ground. I turned and fired back. Miss Adler called to me, but I told her to carry on. I returned fire and followed after her, but I couldn’t see her. I came to the inn, but she was no where to be seen. I called out but there was no response. What was I to do, with Holmes somewhere unknown, Miss Adler missing and a pack of outlaws on my tail, this was it. I stood momentarily ponding
these thoughts and trying to catch my breath before I continued running. Then a large carriage came out of no where and rattled to a halt beside, me nearly running me over. I turned, and as the door opened, I was heaved inside.
What Happened to Sherlock Holmes
My life was over, I thought. Marry would never forgive me for dying this way. She was nervous enough regarding my adventure to America, soon she’d learn this was my last adventure. I felt discouraged, I had run all that way, was nearly killed, only to be caught right outside my haven. The carriage moved at a rapid pace. The strong hands which pulled me inside were still wrestling with me as I fought back.
“Steady man! Steady!” someone cried. “Watson, steady!” This man knew my name. I stopped my frantic motions, and was relieved by who I saw inside the dark carriage.
“My God, Holmes!” I cried. “You could have simply told me you were in here rather than make me think I was being kidnapped!”
“We have little time to lose, my friend. I am sorry for the fright.” I looked around, but did not see Miss Adler.
“Where is Miss Adler?”
“Driving,” said Holmes. I looked out at the driver. It was Irene Adler.
“Holmes, where are we going? I have information that is most valuable! We cannot leave!” I stammered.
A bullet shattered the back window out of the carriage. The outlaws were still following!
“Woman! Lose them!” Holmes cried.
“Hold on!” she yelled back.
“Holmes, those men! One of them killed Norton! They are unloading their…”
“Opium supplies in a factory till the Society can be reestablished!” Holmes finished.
“How did you know?”
“We should worry about losing these men before we carry on with this conversation,” said Holmes as bullets pierced the walls.
Holmes took out his gun and fired upon the approaching outlaws. I reached for mine and I began to return fire.
Miss Adler had steady control of the carriage, and carefully guided the horses as we exchanged fire. The three remaining outlaws, however, they did not seem to slow down. In fact, they gained upon us increasingly. Holmes shot through the back window while I hung out the door. I rejoiced when Holmes managed to hit one of his targets and saw the man fall. My rejoicing was cut short, there was a bang and I felt a stinging pain in my upper arm and felt back.
“Watson!” cried Holmes. He turned and fired another round of bullets. “Got them!” Holmes then came and examined me. I was shot.
“It’s only a flesh wound in the arm, Holmes; I’ll live,” I assured him. I rose but felt my head spin.
He poked his head out the back window and fired another shot.
“The final one decided to back off,” Holmes said. He helped me take my jacket off and get a better look at my wound. My heart was pounding fiercely. He removed his tie and tied it tightly around my bloody arm. I winced as the pain shot up and down my arm. I felt myself begin to drift and my eyes closed.
***
I woke a couple of hours later. The sun had risen, but the carriage had not stopped. “How are you feeling, Doctor?” Miss Adler was now in the compartment, and Holmes drove the carriage.
I now saw fully what she wore. Dark tweed trousers with brown boots; a black waistcoat, that was evidently for a young man, but was somehow flattering on her; a cotton shirt; a black velvet jacket, and atop her head, a black stetson.
“You have been asleep some time.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Holmes saw to your wound and you passed out. Likely from exhaustion, he said.”
“I suppose that’s right,” I agreed. “Where are we going? I need to tell Holmes what I saw.”
“We’re getting a train soon and going further west to Nevada. All is leading there.”
“How is that?”
“The station is ahead. Let us board and we can all share information.”
When the three of us were comfortably sitting in a private compartment with some food and drink, I told Holmes and Miss Adler all that I had learnt.
“You must brace yourself, Miss Adler,” I instructed. “I overheard the outlaws, and it was admitted the one called Dog killed your husband.”
I could see Adler’s face tense, her eyes lit with a concealed fire. “He may have done the deed, but he is not the man who ordered Norton killed.”
“Neither is Ivory,” said I.
“I know,” admitted Holmes.
“Forgive me Holmes, but what was the point in risking my life if you knew all this?”
“I didn’t until last night. Both of us have had enlightening adventures,” said he. “You mentioned the name of the train which carried the opium was Pemberton Rail?”
“Correct.”
“Then we are most certainly on the right trail. The reason the name was familiar to you was because you saw it recently in this.” Holmes pulled out Norton’s brown journal and opened it. I looked and there was written the name Pemberton Rail, with a series of numbers following.
“What are those numbers?” I asked.
“Bank details,” Miss Adler said.
“I believe it would do us all good for me to recount my night’s ventures now that we are caught up on yours, Watson.”
“Please do,” said I.
“I found my way easily to the house of Homer Smith. It rests just near the tracks as the sheriff said. It was a substantially sized lodging. I walked up the path towards the front door, and heard someone call out to me asking me my business. I informed them that I was told that Mr Homer Smith was a provider of some of the best opium in the country, and that I was willing to pay a hefty sum if he were willing to make a deal. I was then told to stay in place, and had a gun aimed at my head, should I get any funny ideas. I waited near twenty minutes before lights began to come on within the house. A man walked out of the dark and escorted me inside. I sat in a large dining hall at a table. A glass of whiskey was offered, and I sipped it occasionally. After another ten minutes or so, a tall man with a round pale face, and beady black eyes walked in.
“‘Your name?’ he asked.
“‘Altamont Jones,’ said I.
“‘I hear you are looking to buy opium from me?’
“‘I am, Mr Smith.’
“‘What brought you here?’
“‘I overheard your name once. From one they call Ivory.’
“Homer Smith raised his eyebrow and tilted his head back. ‘You overheard from Ivory?’
“‘Yes, the man who runs The Society in New York. Our paths crossed some time ago; and when I found myself in the area, I recollected him telling me a Homer Smith supplied him with fine Opium.’
“‘Well, Al-ta-mont Jones,’ Homer Smith said, ‘how much are you willing to pay if I did have some of the finest opium around?’
“‘Two thousand dollars for enough opium to last me a month.’
“‘Well, why didn’t you just say so from the start?’ he said with a smile . ‘Come on, let’s go somewhere more comfortable.’ We rose, and I followed him into a comfortable study. He called for one of his servants and asked them to prepare some samples of opium for me to test.
“‘I trust that our transaction will remain private and that there won’t be any trouble with local authorities?’ I asked.
“‘My good man, anyone who is anyone in this town is in my pocket. You have nothing to fear,’ he informed me, smirking. Smith sat down at his desk and began sorting through papers. ‘I’ll have some trials ready soon, but until then, shall we have a smoke? A cigar perhaps?’ I agreed and walked over to his desk. It was littered with newspapers and letters both formal and informal. He offered me a cigar, clipped the end, and lit it. With it burning in my hand, I took a quick glance at his desk. I heard the door behind open, and to my surprise I saw Sheriff Flood walk in. ‘I own this town, Al-ta-mont Jones.’ Smith said with confidence.
“‘I’m sorry, Mr Jones,’ Sheriff Flood said, his rifle extended.
“‘Now, Al-ta-mont Jones, I hear you’ve come after me but have no warrant. I’ve also been told you are a Pinkerton. I don’t like Pinkertons.’
“I turned my head towards Smith. ‘I am neither a Pinkerton nor American,’ I began, dropping my fake accent. ‘I am Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective from London.’ Both Smith and Sheriff Flood looked slightly confused. ‘I care little for what you do; what I want is information. I’m looking for a man called Ivory who is responsible for the death of a Mr Godfrey Norton. Ivory ran a prestigious opium den in New York City and received regular shipment of the substance from you.’
“‘Have a seat, sheriff,’ Smith said then paused and looked at me. ‘Holmes was it?’
“The three of us sat; the atmosphere in the room was immensely thick.
“‘Ivory, I know him only by name.’
“‘How do you know him only by name?’ I asked.
“‘We run in the same circles, you might say.’
“‘As I said, I am looking for him, and him alone. I will pay you for information and leave you be.’
“Smith and Sheriff Flood laughed. ‘I told the boss that Ivory was getting sloppy. He’ll probably hang for this, but not by you, Mr Holmes,’ Smith said with a chuckle. ‘Unfortunately I can’t let you leave this room alive. You know me and you know of Ivory - anyone who gets this close dies, no questions asked.’
“‘I assure you the only person leaving this room alive will be me,’ I said confidently. I heard the clicking of the sheriff’s rifle as he aimed at my head.
“‘Is that so?’ Sheriff Flood said.
“With a firm foothold on the floor, I pushed my chair back and grabbed ahold of the gun’s barrel, tilting it down. In the jerk, he pulled the trigger and blew his own knee out. He dropped the gun, and I grabbed it. Homer Smith cried and fell back in his chair, scooting towards to wall. With Sheriff Flood squealing behind me, Smith began to plead for his life. ‘Please, please don’t kill me! I’ll tell you what you want!’
Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder Page 19