Sherlock Holmes and the King of Clubs

by Hayes, Steve

  Houdini looked at Florian. ‘What have you done to these kids? My God, you’ve twisted their minds out of shape.’

  ‘Annalise is what you made her,’ Florian said.

  ‘Aw, come off it! You don’t believe that any more than I do.’

  ‘Do it, Uncle,’ Annalise repeated. ‘Shoot him. For Father.’

  As the fat man’s finger tightened on the trigger, Houdini heard Bess whisper his name. It galvanized him. Keeping his eyes on the fat man and knowing that his and wife’s escape was all going to come down to timing, Houdini said, ‘I love you, Bess.’

  Florian’s pudgy finger continued to squeeze the trigger. Behind his glasses his chocolate-coloured eyes filled with resolve.

  ‘Goodbye, Houdini,’ he said.

  Just then, from the front of the house, came the shrill ring of the doorbell.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It’s Over

  THE SOUND MADE Eder swear softly under his breath. ‘Answer it,’ he told Annalise.

  ‘Let them go away, whoever they are.’

  ‘Answer it,’ he repeated. ‘And deal with whoever it is.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We haven’t survived as long as we have by drawing undue attention to ourselves,’ he reminded her.

  Annalise indicated Wolf with an imperious flick of the head. ‘Let him go.’

  ‘With his face looking the way it does?’ snapped Florian. ‘Just do as I say. And give that gun back to Wolf.’

  Annalise stamped angrily back upstairs, thrusting the gun into Wolf’s hands as she passed him.

  As she approached the door she tried to compose herself. She would tell their caller politely but firmly that they were not buying from vendors today, then return to the cellar and finally see her father avenged.

  The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through her.

  She opened the door to find two strangers standing outside, muffled against the foul weather.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked.

  ‘Miss Annalise Eder?’ asked one of the men. He was thin of face, with incisive grey eyes.

  ‘Yes. May I help you?’

  ‘You may,’ said Holmes – and even before he finished speaking, the grim-faced man to his left produced a handgun and pointed it squarely at her.

  ‘You may step aside,’ Holmes continued. ‘And you may consider yourself held until the authorities get here.’

  Caught off guard, Annalise stumbled back. Holmes brushed past her and looked around the lobby. Behind him, Watson kept his Webley trained on the girl.

  ‘You … you have no right to hold me!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘In Austrian law I do,’ Holmes replied. ‘Until such time as the police can make a formal arreSt Now, where are they?’

  ‘I don’t … who are you men? What do you want here? How dare you try to intimidate me!’

  ‘I rather fancy you are not easily intimidated,’ Watson replied.

  There was no longer the slightest shred of doubt in his mind as to the Eders’ guilt. The distinctive Waverley Electric parked outside told its own story, while the shattered ground-floor window they’d seen as they approached suggested something untoward.

  ‘Where are you holding Houdini and his wife?’ he demanded.

  Annalise’s manner changed. These men, whoever they were, had somehow discovered enough to know that Houdini was here.

  In desperation she threw herself at Watson, screaming at the top of her lungs as she did so.

  ‘Uncle!’

  Before Watson could stop her, she knocked the Webley from his grasp and tried to rake his face with the nails of her other hand. It was all he could do to hold her off.

  Holmes grabbed the girl by her shoulders and tore her away from Watson. Before Watson could cross the hall to retrieve the fallen weapon, footsteps came pounding from the rear of the house. Seconds later Florian Eder stormed into the lobby, gun in hand.

  ‘They know about Houdini!’ Annalise screamed. ‘They say the police are coming!’

  ‘That’s not possible!’ Eder raged. Then: ‘Get your hands up, gentlemen! You’re not policemen, I know that much!’

  ‘But they know about Houdini,’ said Annalise, retrieving Watson’s revolver.

  ‘We know more than that,’ Holmes added coolly. ‘And the authorities are being told everything at this moment – about the robbery at Christie’s in London; about the abduction of Bess Houdini; the murder of Frances Lane by you, Miss Eder; the subsequent abduction of Houdini himself and your desire to gain access to the Imperial Palace. The only thing we don’t know, Herr Eder, is what you hope to gain once you’re inside.’

  ‘And you’ll never find out,’ Florian snapped, but Holmes’s threat had shaken him. He couldn’t understand how this man – whoever he was – knew so much about his plans. It was all too clear that he knew enough, though, and if Annalise was right, then it was only a matter of time before the police arrived.

  Fighting down his mounting panic, he demanded, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Sherlock Holmes.’

  Eder recognized the name immediately. ‘The Sherlock Holmes?’

  ‘To the best of my knowledge there is no other.’

  ‘That it is something of a consolation, Herr Holmes. For there is no shame in being bested by the most famous detective in the world – even if only temporarily.’ He gestured with the pistol. ‘Now, go through to the kitchen, if you please.’

  Holmes didn’t move. ‘It is over, Eder, but it may go in your favour if you and your wards surrender yourselves willingly.’

  Eder scoffed. ‘A wise man knows when to cut his losses. But sometimes wise men can also become desperate men – and it is best not to try the patience of a desperate man.’

  Holmes knew he was right. Knowing that he now had nothing to lose could only make Florian Eder more dangerous. Holmes and Watson marched reluctantly ahead of Annalise, entered the kitchen and from there went down to the basement.

  They found Wolf nervously watching Houdini and Bess. Earlier, Houdini had sensed once again that Wolf’s heart really wasn’t in this enterprise, whatever it was. Before he could do anything about it, though, Holmes and Watson, with Annalise behind them, came down the steps.

  Houdini’s spirits dropped still lower. Holmes had represented his last, slim chance.

  ‘I see they got you, too,’ he said.

  Holmes nodded. ‘But we may yet triumph. A man called Purslane, who is highly placed within the government of my country, is presently telling the police everything. It is only a matter of time before they get here.’

  ‘They will be too late to do you any good,’ Annalise hissed, raising Watson’s gun.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ Holmes told her. ‘The game is up. Killing us will do nothing to change that. Indeed, if you kill us the police will only become more determined to bring you to book for your crimes. The British government will insist upon it, as will its counterpart on Capitol Hill.’

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ said Annalise.

  ‘Then call that bluff,’ said Holmes. ‘The net is closing, Eder. Murdering us will only add to your crimes. If you go now, you might still escape; the difference between freedom and capture may depend upon a matter of minutes, either way.’

  Eder considered Holmes’s reasoning, and was forced to admit the unpalatable truth. ‘You are quite right, Herr Holmes. As things stand, we can no longer spare the time to argue with you and for that reason, we now bid you good-day. We shall not meet again, gentlemen, Frau Houdini … but if we ever do, it will be to your great misfortune. Come, children!’

  He stood back, keeping the prisoners covered, while Annalise and Wolf left the cellar. Then Eder followed them, closing the trapdoor behind him.

  ‘Holmes—’ began Houdini.

  Holmes raised a hand for silence. They all listened as an ominous scraping sound moved across the ceiling over them. A few seconds later the sound stopped and silence once again claimed the large, isolated house.

 
‘What the devil was that?’ asked Watson.

  ‘They’re using furniture to weigh down the trapdoor.’

  The silence dragged on.

  ‘I think they’ve gone,’ Watson said at length.

  ‘Then let us go after them,’ said Holmes, starting toward the steps.

  Houdini got there before him. ‘Leave this to me.’

  He climbed the steps until he was close enough to turn and brace his back against the trapdoor. Then he pushed upward, grimacing with the effort. But the trapdoor remained stubbornly intractable.

  ‘Dammit!’

  With one more Herculean effort he pushed and the trapdoor moved, allowing a crack of daylight to appear, but that was as much as he could manage.

  ‘It’s useless,’ he muttered, sitting on the step.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Holmes. ‘Listen.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Choice That Was No Choice At All

  THE CELLAR WAS quiet save for the hissing of the carbide lamp.

  Then, as they strained they ears, there was the faintest of noises.

  ‘What was that?’ Houdini whispered.

  It came again, barely audible. ‘Holmes! Dr Watson!’

  ‘It’s Purslane!’ cried Watson. And then, raising his voice, ‘Here, Purslane! In the kitchen! We are down in the cellar!’

  Houdini and Bess started shouting as well.

  After a little, they heard footsteps hurrying into the room above, then the sound of a cupboard being dragged away from the trapdoor. As soon as the door was clear Houdini pushed it open, climbed out then turned and reached down for his wife.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Purslane as he helped pull them up into the kitchen. ‘I passed the Waverley Electric as I was on my way back here. It was headed east as fast as it could go.’

  ‘The Eders are getting away,’ said Holmes. ‘You have alerted the authorities, I take it?’

  Shamefaced, Purslane shook his head. ‘I drove as far as I dared, but I couldn’t find any other properties around this neck of the woods, so I turned around and came back. The Eders almost ran me off the road, they were going so fast.’

  ‘And they were going east, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They are heading for the border,’ said Holmes, ‘and a country – Slovakia – with which Austria has no extradition treaty. Once they cross the frontier they will be free to go wherever they like.’

  ‘Then they’ll get away,’ said Watson.

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ Houdini said through gritted teeth. He pumped Purslane’s hand. ‘I don’t know who you are, mister, but thanks for rescuing us. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow your car.’

  ‘Harry!’ His wife grabbed his arm, pleading with her eyes.

  ‘They kidnapped you and they’ve killed Frankie,’ Houdini said. ‘I’m damned if I’ll let them get away with that.’

  Holmes, knowing that Houdini would not be dissuaded, strode through the silent house toward the still-open front door. ‘There is no time to debate the matter,’ he told the others. ‘Therefore we shall all go.’

  Florian Eder leaned forward in the back seat of the Waverley and tapped Wolf on the shoulder. ‘Faster, boy! We’ve got to go faster!’

  Wolf, hunched over the steering wheel as he tried to see the road ahead through a wall of tumbling snow, called back, ‘I daren’t go any faster in these conditions!’

  ‘You talk as if we have a choice,’ said Annalise. She was seated beside her uncle, wrapped against the foul weather in her long, heavy coat. ‘Just do it, curse you!’

  For a moment Wolf took his eyes off the blizzard to look back at his sister. She was glaring at him, her eyes the eyes of someone he had never seen before.

  She had never cared much for Wolf. He was her complete opposite. She had always been headstrong, a quality she inherited from her mother, who had always been ambitious for her husband and her children. Wolf, by contrast, had taken after their father. On stage the King of Clubs had been a commanding figure, someone who was truly larger than life. Offstage, however, he had enjoyed a quiet, domesticated existence. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Florian, who had seen his brother’s enormous talents early in life and moved heaven and earth to make him the star he was at the time of his accident, he might never have reached those giddy heights at all.

  Facing forward again, Wolf said miserably, ‘Uncle … is it true? What Houdini said?’

  ‘Houdini is a liar,’ growled Florian. ‘All Amerikaner are liars.’

  ‘Are they? I was watching his eyes when he spoke about Father. They were the eyes of an honest man.’

  ‘Are you calling me a liar, then?’

  Although the urge to back down was strong, Wolf stood his ground. ‘Did you force my father into performing the Underwater Box Escape too soon?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t!’

  ‘Then why did Father tell Houdini that you did?’

  ‘You only have Houdini’s word for that!’

  ‘And we only have your word against it.’

  Florian glared at him. ‘Damn you, Wolf! Haven’t I always looked after you? Didn’t I take you in after your father’s accident, see to it that he had the finest care, that he could live out his final days with as much dignity as possible?’

  ‘You make them sound more like the acts of a guilty conscience, Uncle.’

  ‘How dare you take that tone with me!’

  ‘I dare,’ said Wolf, ‘because there was something else you also kindly did for us – you introduced us to the world of crime and I no longer even care to think about what all your poisonous lies have done to Annalise!’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ demanded his sister.

  Before Wolf could reply, the car started bumping precariously, tossing its occupants about. Wolf stamped on the brake, and the Waverley skidded to a halt.

  No one said anything.

  Wolf, badly shaken, climbed out into the blizzard. A moment later he stuck his head back inside and said, ‘Curse it, I’ve driven us off the road. Get out. You’ll have to help me push the car back from the verge, Uncle.’

  Florian and Annalise struggled out of the car. Annalise got in behind the steering wheel, released the brake and indicated that her uncle and brother should start pushing. They leaned into the ornately curved front bodywork and slowly – too slowly, as far as Florian was concerned – the car rolled back along its own snow-furrows until it was once again on the road.

  ‘I’ll drive from here,’ said Annalise.

  ‘You’ll get us lost,’ grumbled her brother.

  ‘How can I get us lost? There is only one road to the border. And it is the matter of only a few miles now.’

  ‘Stop bickering!’ Florian snapped. ‘Let her drive, Wolf. Annalise – just get us out of here!’

  The car whirred back into motion, swerving drunkenly from one side of the snowy road to the other until Annalise got the feel of the steering.

  Florian stared out at the passing trees distractedly. He still couldn’t understand how everything had fallen apart so rapidly. But now was no time to dwell on the paSt He had to concentrate on getting them across the border to safety. Only then could he attempt to understand what had gone wrong, the mistakes he had apparently made and, hopefully, learn from them. Once they were settled in the second home he had bought them in Slovakia, he would find ways to empty their many pseudonymous Austrian bank accounts and transfer the money to their new country of residence. He would fetch Nikolaus too, in time. He would find a way to have his brother removed from the hospice in Engelhartstetten and placed into the care of a good Slovakian equivalent.

  He started to feel somewhat better about things. For one brief moment there he had believed it was all over. Now, as the Waverley continued to carry them east toward the frontier, he dared to believe that they might yet salvage victory from what had seemed like certain defeat.

  ‘Uncle!’

  Florian turned to Wolf. ‘What is it?’r />
  Wolf was looking back the way they had come. ‘I’m not sure … I thought …’

  ‘What is it, boy?’

  ‘I think we are being followed. I saw a car back there … just for a moment, a fleeting break in the snow—’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No … But I’d sooner we didn’t take the risk.’

  Florian agreed. ‘Go faster, Annalise. The border can’t be that far now.’

  Annalise stamped on the accelerator, but the batteries were already giving as much power as they could. The fact that they were now labouring uphill was also causing them to lose ground.

  ‘Look!’ Wolf pointed. ‘There is someone following us!’

  ‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Florian replied. ‘They could just as easily be travelling this same godforsaken route.’

  ‘But they’re not,’ Wolf said. ‘I recognize it now. It’s that car we passed just after we set out. The Daimler.’

  The Waverley whirred on, struggling to find traction.

  ‘Annalise,’ Florian urged softly. ‘Faster.’

  It was then the Waverley reached the crest of the hill. As it did, there was an unexpected slackening of the wind. The falling snow stopped blowing against the windshield, revealing an old beam bridge spanning the winding cobalt line of the Danube below.

  The Danube … and the border.

  On the far side of the bridge sat a cluster of wooden huts, their pitched roofs thick with accumulated snow. Nearby, two chilled Slovakian soldiers manned a barrier that was now down.

  ‘There it is,’ pointed Florian. ‘Come on, we’re almost there.’

  Again Annalise pressed down on the accelerator and this time the car lurched into high speed, aided now by its slippery decline towards the bridge.

  The Slovakian soldiers watched them approach, grateful for the distraction they would provide from the bitter cold. One of them ducked under the barrier and walked forward to meet them, raising his hand as he came. As they raced down off the slope Annalise slowed the vehicle before it could reach the Austrian side of the bridge.

  ‘Don’t slow down,’ Wolf shouted. ‘They’re right behind us!’