“Fearful for their very lives, and seeing how Austria was no longer able to protect them, most voted at the Frankfurt Congress to, as they put it rather foolishly, ‘merge Prussia into Germany.’ Needless to add, it was the Prussian leaders who had Wilhelm IV’s ear. For a while Germany struggled to unite and modernize itself. We were all amazed at the efficiency with which they dispatched the French in 1870, a war that also raised the nationalistic fervor of all the Germans to a high pitch and ignited the purpose of the Brotherhood anew. Since then Germany has made every effort to prove itself the equal of the older nations—a rather silly endeavor since no one else seems to discount them as much as they do themselves.”
“It is not a mistake any country can afford to make more than once,” I said.
“Astute as always, Guthrie,” Mycroft Holmes approved before resuming his discourse. “Following the tradition of all Continental powers the German government is quick to use any situation to its benefit; that makes them especially vulnerable to the Brotherhood. Opportunists are rarely careful about the tools they use.”
I was so caught up that it wasn’t until my employer gestured at a mirror, without hesitating in his explanation that I remembered to hastily repair the knot in my tie. As I did, I found my thoughts returning to the matter of the police: how could any man on that force permit himself to be enrolled in the cause of Britain’s enemies?
Mycroft Holmes went on without seeming to notice my dismay. “So today Germany strives to prove itself to itself and that is most dangerous. The current rage to gain colonies, such as they now hold in East Africa, is a desire that has major implications for the rest of Europe. There are only so many lands out there. And if Germany covets one, it has to be at the expense of whoever already has it in their sphere of influence. I am satisfied our Empire is solid, but those of France and Belgium are proving far less stable. And now every nation is scrambling to position itself either for or against Germany to promote its own place in the greater world.”
“So we have seen,” I said, having set my tie to rights.
“That is where our risk is keenest, among those struggling for advancement. Britain has the most to lose, for we have the greatest Empire in the world. Our hulls carry half the world’s trade. We must maintain stability. When Germany is too strong, we must weaken her. When France pushes too hard we must balance her ambitions by supporting this or that German assertion. You know of the treaties that are being signed and kept secret, and their importance to the Empire: without a strong England, I fear Europe—indeed, the entire world—would be at war in a matter of months.”
“And Scandinavia might well swing the balance; hence our concerns for Prince Oscar,” I said, repeating what I had been told at the beginning of this venture.
“You are an apt student, Guthrie,” said Mycroft Holmes. “I fear it is more complicated than that, for if we cannot protect the Prince, we will lose the integrity of our position around the world, which is precisely what the Brotherhood is striving to achieve. Any failure on our part now would cast other assurances we have made into doubt. So you see, we must consider all our obligations and honor them. With so much at stake, we cannot afford to lose this friend and a most strategically placed ally at that. We cannot permit him to be harmed or be perceived to be in danger. Keep in mind we are playing for higher stakes than a single man’s life, or the schedule of trains.”
I nodded several times more, and said, “I began to wonder in Constantinople if we were actually doing the task we supposed we were. You’ve told me that these things are complex; I sometimes lose sight of how complex they are.”
“Yes,” he said, with a sudden burst of energy. “Come. It’s time we were going. Sid will begin to wonder what has become of us.”
“Sid?” I finally realized he had mentioned the jarvey when he woke me. “Isn’t our meeting across the street? Why Sid?” I asked, wondering if plans had changed while I slept.
“Sid is taking a number of memoranda to the police for me,” said my employer glibly.
“You are trying to set a trap,” I told him, knowing his pattern.
Mycroft Holmes shook his head. “My dear Guthrie, ‘trap’ is such a very nasty word. Let us say I am giving anyone of venal inclinations associated with our work a chance to indulge himself.”
“Yes. A trap,” I said, trying not to smile in spite of my distress at the realization that the police could not be counted upon as allies. “I’ll just go get my leather-bound notebook and the glass pen.”
“In the parlor, I think, in the secretary.” Holmes was already going to don his topcoat and his hat, vigor in every movement.
The items were exactly where he said they would be. I took them and went to get my coat as Tyers came up to me with a bottle of ink with a well in the lid. “Thank you,” I said.
“Ta, Mister Guthrie. You’d best hurry. Hastings will be waiting for his messages. Time is fleeting.” He made a gesture of encouragement and did not quite shove me out the door.
Mycroft Holmes was half a flight ahead of me going down the stairs; he glanced back once before he reached the street where Sid Hastings had drawn up at the kerb. Here he paused long enough to hand two small leather portfolios to Sid and hurriedly gave his instructions.
Pall Mall was now a very busy street indeed, with carriages and wagons and the occasional person on a horse going by in a steady stream. I made my way across, taking care to make sure that nothing splashed my clothes, for it would not do to present myself to the Diogenes Club or the Directors in smirched garments. As I reached the steps of the club, a somber-faced constable stepped out instead of the doorman.
“Guthrie is with me, Mossleigh,” said Mycroft Holmes, coming up behind me.
“Right you are, sir,” said Constable Mossleigh. “You’re expected in the Strangers’ Room.” He bowed a little to admit us to the club.
The Strangers’ Room was designed to both awe and isolate visitors, with two impressive sets of doors, one of which led directly into the vestibule. These double doors were of a standard size and made of the same dark wood as the bookcases that lined the walls of the room; just now they stood open, indicating, not too subtly, that this was the route for the Directors and their guests to take. At the far side of the Strangers’ Room was a second set of double doors. Made of the same wood and fitted with over-sized handles of polished brass, they were covered by deep bas relief in a pattern similar to those on the Acropolis. In the center was an image of the Green Man in his garments of leaves, glaring forbiddingly at anyone who might use this entrance.
The center of the room was taken up with a large table carved from a single piece of oak with padded, leather-covered chairs drawn up around it. Bookshelves from floor to ceiling were filled and divided by subject, one section containing a complete set of medical references, another law, and a third geography and exploration; in one corner were all the completed volumes of the Ordinance Survey. Beyond Mycroft Holmes himself, Guthrie doubted that many members of the Diogenes Club itself made much use of the collected wisdom in the hundreds of somberly bound and gilt volumes.
The men in the chairs looked hardly less imposing than the Strangers’ Room itself. Five members of the Board of Directors were in attendance. At the head of the table sat Thomas Wordswell, who could only be described as prim but somehow friendly. His graying hair and large, brown eyes demanded trust. He was relatively new in running the railroad, but had worked at lesser positions for years. His brother had been the man who had kept things going when the engineers had virtually rebelled a few years earlier at the tyranny of Irish Alexander McDonnell; the former General Manager had managed to annoy the line’s staff, its engineers, the bankers, and the rest of the board in an amazingly short time. The resulting chaos had been headline news for months. I wondered if there would be a problem with a new and insecure chief approving whatever my employer requested.
With him at the table were men with whom anyone who kept up with the latest technology of our modern railroad were familiar. The large man, his neck and arms were as thick as most men’s legs, was Walter Mackersie Smith; his hair was that shade of red found only in Scotland and his skin was surprisingly ruddy. Smith was the Chief Draughtsman and ran the locomotive works at Gateshead. From what the paper had reported during the McDonnell revolt, Smith was not hesitant about speaking his mind, regardless of the company or situation.
Next to Smith was the former Temporary General Manager and Locomotive Superintendent Tennant, who was interested mostly in developing his engines, some of the newest and most powerful ever made; those engines were among the reasons for the recent “Race to the North,” so popular with the newspapers between the North Eastern and the Great Northern. Already railroad enthusiasts were calling the new models being introduced on the North Eastern “Tennants.” The smallest man at the table by a good measure, his gray eyes constantly shifted to each person in the room in sequence. Neatly dressed and sitting properly with his hands folded in front of him, the accountant and engineer seemed to fulfill all of the jokes about being fussy and demanding. His hair was well-oiled and combed carefully into place; his suit was a very tight tweed. If Mycroft Holmes wanted too much, Tennant would be the problem; such men liked predictability, a quality my employer only pretended to have.
Across from Smith, but leaving a place for Holmes, sat Darwin Bromley. Bromley was almost as large as Smith, but less well-muscled.
After years with Mycroft Homes, I knew not to equate his weight with sloth, and did not mistake this man for idle: Bromley was an investor and rumored to be one of the richest men in London. He also owned and managed one of the largest investment houses in the city. The North Eastern had taken a long time to become profitable, and Bromley had been responsible for keeping the line solvent during the trying times before the changes in the Railroad Commission. Normally reserved to the point of being reclusive, Bromley was a different man when speaking about “his” trains. Some of the newspapers derisively, or enviously, accused him and his investment house of “collecting trains” in the way others had begun collecting the models of the great locomotives, for the North Eastern was not the only railroad in which he had invested, although it was now the largest.
Finally there sat Major D. Angus Potter. Almost seventy, he had been on the board the longest of any man there. Despite Smith’s middle name, Potter was also the only native-born Scot on the Board. A former major in the Royal Scots Regiment, the longest-serving regiment in Britain, he was considered to be a steadying influence on the often volatile North Eastern board, although some considered him hopelessly old-fashioned.
“You’ve all received my brief, I think, and have had a short time to familiarize yourself with it,” Mycroft Holmes began, his voice no longer his usual rumble, but a strong orator’s delivery; I sensed the excellent instruction of Edmund Sutton.
“Mister Holmes, you have a most ... ingenious plan to protect Prince Oscar, and we know we will benefit from the arrangements with Sweden-and-Norway, so we are at least willing to hear you out, if only out of consideration to the Prince who has offered us such generous terms to aid in the expansion of the railways in his kingdom,” said Wordswell, in his position of leadership; his words were supported by grave nods from the other Directors. “Tell us what you would like us to do?”
I made a point of readying my pen, although it was my intention to record the reactions of the Directors rather than anything my employer might say.
Mycroft Holmes unfolded a long sheet of paper and indicated the plan drawn upon it. From the precision of the execution of draughting, I supposed Tyers must have done it, for his early training included such disciplines. I wondered if Tyers was aware that Tennant would be examining his work, and if he had known, if the knowledge had influenced him in any way: knowing Philip Tyers, I supposed he would have done the same precise work, whether it was for a lowly sapper or the Queen herself. “As you can see,” Holmes told the Directors, “this plan shows a different array of cars than you usually have on the Flying Scotsman. You will see this uses a dining car and one of your half-lounge, half-baggage cars along with a first-class carriage with sleeping accommodations, but not a private carriage, which would call attention to itself. The train is completed with a second first-class carriage bound for Glasgow, and two second-class carriages with bunks in the rear. The first-class carriage and second-class carriage are before the dining car, then the dining car, then the lounge-and-baggage car—”
“Which we will have to lease from another railroad,” complained Tennant, his seniority making the rest stare at him.
“You have done so in the past, upon two occasions,” said Mycroft Holmes, challenging the man for all his tone of voice was polite. “There would be a first- and second-class carriage in the rear to simplify the change for Glasgow. Glasgow baggage would go in the second-class carriage, as provided by your—”
“Yes, yes, we know these things,” said Smith. “Why should we? Profits have been small enough and we have many years to make up for.”
“The North Eastern has never hesitated to act in British interests,” said Holmes, with heroic mendacity. “You have also made substantial alterations in the cars and their order on four previous occasions in the last year.”
“That was to improve speed,” grumbled Smith.
“But it has been done,” said Holmes, seizing on the salient point. “You have done so and no one will remark that you do so again, which is crucial to our plan.” He coughed. “Your passenger list for tomorrow is not full; you are booked at two-thirds’ capacity. With Prince Oscar and his minimal escort, and I assure you, the escort will be inconspicuous so as not to trouble your other passengers, you will have reached a comfortable level of profit.”
I noticed two of the silent Directors glance at each other, sly as lizards, and exchange a nod so small as to be almost imperceptible.
“Of course, because of what we ask for, we will pay compensation, and owe you the gratitude of the country, as well,” Mycroft Holmes went on. “In exchange, we expect our mission to be held in the strictest confidence. I have contrived an explanation for your change that should pass muster with all but the most persistent.”
“Is that the farrago in your brief?” demanded the sharp-faced Tennant.
“In essence, it is,” said Holmes without a trace of umbrage at Tennant’s imputation. “You know that you have the power to make these decisions, and you can put those decisions into effect in hours. This is just such a case.”
Bromley scowled down at the drawing. “In the past we have made changes due to exigencies—severe weather, trouble up the line—”
“And threats,” said Mycroft Holmes. “You changed the train’s schedule and order when you received a threat claiming that the train would be destroyed by explosives planted somewhere along the tracks.” He held up his memorandum on the matter. “You took two army carriages with the reinforced frames, and you made the run with half a dozen army sappers in the first carriage.” He smiled a bit. “The degree of change in this plan is nowhere near that, is it?”
“No,” said Smith grudgingly. “It’s not.”
“So you will order the train to proceed in the conformation I have specified?” Holmes glanced at me, then put his full attention on the Directors once again. “If you agree, I have a great deal to do this afternoon to prepare to depart tomorrow morning at seven, if you follow my recommendation.”
“You?” Potter gasped, his blue eyes seeming to push from his head. “Surely you do not mean to travel to Scotland?” he asked in a thick Edinburgh accent.
“I? That would be the height of folly. To have me escort His Highness would be the same as pinning him in a train’s headlight; I am too crucially placed in the government to provide Prince Oscar the obscurity he requires now. Someon
e must accompany the Prince, and whoever those two persons are, they must be made ready for the journey and given what protection we can supply to protect His Highness, who will, of course, travel incognito. Those escorting him will put his protection uppermost in their purpose.”
“Of course,” said Tennant sneering in my employer’s direction.
“Have you even found the escort for the Prince? Do you intend to tell us who is to undertake this work?” asked Smith taking his sarcastic tone from his fellow-Director.
“Oh, yes. There are some minor, last-minute arrangements to be made, but as soon as I have your assurance that you will support this plan and execute it, I will make such accommodations as are necessary for the protection of the Prince while he travels to Scotland. That will be my responsibility, as providing the appropriate train will be yours.” He was able to give them all a confident smile, and I wondered as I watched him if he would appear so confident if the Directors discovered that he—Mycroft Holmes—and I would be the escort taking Prince Oscar north. I doubted the Directors would be as sanguine as they were if they were privy to this intelligence; I also suspected that my employer would not present himself in this manner had he intended to inform them of his intentions.
“Mister Holmes?” Bromley asked as if suddenly aware of a new danger, “What do you think will be the greatest danger to the Prince while on the Flying Scotsman? The journey from London to Edinburgh should take eight hours, and much can happen in that time. We must hope that such an unmasking does not occur, but should it happen, how do you intend it to be dealt with? And how would such a disaster reflect on the North Eastern?”
Mycroft Holmes almost smiled; he must have anticipated the question. “If any of the Prince’s enemies, or Britain’s, should discover him on the train, we will have to do everything in our power to remove him from danger, which would mean evacuating him from the train in some manner. There are actually several possible places to accomplish this without raising further suspicion, and I am prepared to take advantage of any or all of them. Each station is, of course, an opportunity for our opponents as well as for us. Stations will be watched, and we must suppose stops for coal, sand, and water will be under surveillance as well.”
The Flying Scotsman Page 10