by Mike Resnick
The next day I slept til noon, and figured I'd spend the day at the races, so I asked the desk clerk where I could find Ascot and Epsom, and he gave me two addresses, but evidently he didn't understand plain-spoken American real good, because the first address turned out to be a men's clothing shop and the second was a druggist, and all I had to show for my hopeful afternoon at the track was an Ascot tie and a box of Epsom salts.
I stopped at a local restaurant and had what they assured me was a typical British dinner, which led me to understand why I kept running into expatriate Brits all over the world. The lemonade could have used a little sugar to make up for not having no lemons, and with no ketchup to bring out the subtle nuances of flavor in the Dover sole, I decided they sold the leftovers to cobblers who had appropriated the word for shoe bottoms.
When it was getting on toward eight o'clock I went over to the Savoy, and found out from the desk clerk that Von Horst was in room 533 and was expecting me, so I took the elevator up to the fifth floor and began walking down the hall. Just as I passed room 531 I thought I could hear Von Horst's voice, and as I walked up to his door I could hear him, plain as day, speaking on the telephone.
“Yes, it's all working out beautifully,” he said. “The man is a complete and total fool. By now he has doubtless decided to alert Sherringford House to what he believes is my true plan, and to appropriate it for himself at some time in the future.” He chuckled at something, and then continued. “No, there's no way it can fail. Half the London police will be in the Tower, and the rest will be watching the storage room, and while they are all occupied, I shall sneak into Buckingham Palace and steal all the jewels they have taken out for the King of Norway's state dinner. I never did say which Crown Jewels I planned to steal, and while they're watching one set, I'll make off with the other and deliver them to you before sunrise ... You'll have to sit on them for a couple of years, but since I'm only asking thirty percent of market value, I think it's fair to say that we'll both make out like, shall we say, thieves?”
He laughed again, and I knocked on his door.
“I'll be right with you!” he yelled, and then I heard him say into the telephone, “I have to hang up now. You won't hear from me again until after the job is done.”
Then I heard him walk across the room, and the door opened, and he greeted me with a great big smile.
“Good evening, Doctor Jones,” he said. “I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, but I was in the lavatory.”
“Quite all right,” I said, walking in and sitting myself down in a leather chair. “Quite a spread you've got here.”
“It's cozy,” he agreed. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
I allowed as to how a glass of whiskey might wash away the taste of a typical British dinner, and he poured some for each of us, and then he sat down opposite me and while I finished my drink he instructed me to tell Sherringford House that he planned to impersonate a Tower Guard and have me create a commotion on the lower levels, and that when House and the police went down below to investigate he would disable the other guard with a karate chop, pick the lock, and steal the jewels before anyone returned.
“It's the stupidest scheme in the world,” he said with a chuckle. “But I've been reading House's adventures in the magazines, and he's just dumb enough to buy it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I'll bet I could get him to go for it.”
“Your job,” he added, “is to lead them a merry chase without ever going below ground level, where I'll be stealing the real jewels from the storeroom. Do you think you can manage it?”
“I can't see why not,” I said.
“Fine. We'll meet at Westminster Abbey at four in the morning, where I'll give you your share of the jewels.”
“Fair enough,” I said agreeably.
“All right,” he said, getting to his feet. “Is there anything else we have to discuss?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Good. Then I'll see you approximately thirty-two hours from now, at which point we should both join the ranks of Britain's richest men.”
I walked on back to my hotel and sat down and started mulling on everything I had heard. Obviously Von Horst was using his bet just to divert the attention of Sherringford House and the London police so that he could have a clear, unhindered shot at all the jewels in Buckingham Palace, and I had known all along he planned to double-cross me, though I didn't know until I overheard his phone call exactly how he planned to do it.
So I got to sorting things out, and it seemed to me that since House already believed in Von Horst's phony scheme even though I hadn't yet told it to him, there wasn't no sense at all disappointing him, so I would lay it out just the way Von Horst wanted me to, and that would take care of the world's greatest consulting detective and the whole of the London Metropolitan Police Force.
Then, since I knew that the gems at Buckingham Palace would be unprotected, and that Von Horst had arranged everything so that he could sneak in and steal them at eleven o'clock, all I had to do was get there ahead of him, at maybe 10:30, and once I'd gotten safely back to my hotel I could call the Tower and tell ’em Von Horst was lurking in the Palace grounds, and that would take care of him once and for all, since he'd publicly promised to steal the jewels and they would sure as shootin’ get themselves stolen.
The more I thought about it, the more I couldn't see no way it could go wrong, so finally I moseyed over to House's apartment and told him that he was dead right about what Von Horst planned to do.
“Was there ever any doubt?” he said with a contented smile.
“Then, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be anywhere on the premises, since Von Horst has a pretty vile temper and I don't want him taking no pot shots at me when he finds out I spilled the beans.”
“Certainly,” said House. “Your job is done, Reverend Jones. I commend you for your citizenship and your service to the Crown, though of course I knew all along what Von Horst was planning, as you'll recall from our conversation two nights ago.”
He walked me to the door and bid me good-night, and then I went back to Bristol Street, and spent the rest of the night and most of the next day resting up. I knew better than to try another British home-cooked dinner again, so I went out in search of a healthy meal and got myself two egg rolls, a chocolate donut, and a stein of ale, and at ten o'clock I started walking over to Buckingham Palace.
When I got there I saw that the whole building was dark, and I figured that all the kings and queens and aristocrats were indulging in their party games a little early, and that I might have to go from one bedroom to another collecting their treasures, but I'd brung a flashlight along with me, so that didn't bother me none. I walked up to one of the back windows, and since I didn't want to make no noise, I took off my shoes and then climbed in.
I found myself in some kind of drawing room, and since it was empty I opened the door and walked out into a huge corridor, and started opening doors and inspecting rooms one by one, but I couldn't find no jewelry or people or nothing in ’em, and after a few minutes I was beginning to wonder if maybe there was more than one Buckingham Palace, and if Edward and all the royal folks was in the other one and this one was owned by a kindly old couple named Buckingham who were asleep on the second floor.
Finally I made it to the living room, which was maybe a hundred feet long and half as wide, and I figured that if there wasn't no gems to be had, maybe I could at least pick up a knick-knack or two so it wouldn't be a totally wasted evening, and just as I was reaching for a little statue of a lady who was dressed as if she'd just stepped out of a shower and didn't have no towels nearby, all the lights came on and a voice shouted “You're under arrest!” and suddenly I was facing four hundred members of the London police.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked. “You're supposed to be over at the Tower of London.”
“We had a tip that someone would try to rob Buckingham while the Royal Family was vacationing at Winds
or Castle,” said the officer in charge.
“Well, somebody is gonna try to rob the Palace,” I said, “and if you'll just stick around a few minutes you can catch him red-handed.”
“We just did,” said the officer with a laugh.
“You got it all wrong,” I said. “I'm the Right Reverend Doctor Lucifer Jones. Don't that mean nothing to you?”
“It means you'll probably be thrown out of your church when they find out what you were doing,” he said.
“But you can't arrest me!” I said. “I got an agreement with Sherringford House!”
“Sure you do,” said the officer. “Now put your hands behind your back.”
“But I do!” I said as they slipped on a set of handcuffs. “Just ask him.”
“Sherringford House is much too busy protecting the Crown Jewels to be bothered right now,” said the officer.
And that was that. They led me off to the British version of a paddywagon and took me to the local station and photographed and fingerprinted me and booked me and locked me in a cell just like a common criminal. They even took away my cigars and my hip flask and my personal pair of custom-made dice, and left me with nothing but my well-worn copy of the Good Book, which wasn't as comforting as it might have been, since it was too dark to read or swat flies with it.
Well, I finally drifted off to sleep, and in the morning who should show up but Sherringford House. He nodded to the guard, who unlocked my cell.
“I'm terribly sorry for this misunderstanding,” said the consulting detective. “You are, of course, free to go. The London police have agreed to honor my promise to you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“It was the least I could do for you,” he said, “considering that I won the five thousand pounds.”
“You caught Von Horst?” I said, surprised.
He shook his head. “He never showed up. At the very last minute he must have realized that he could never hope to elude Sherringford House.” He turned to me and shook my hand. “It has been most interesting working with you, Reverend Jones. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your stay in London.”
He walked off, and I went over to the desk to pick up my belongings.
“You're Lucifer Jones?” asked the desk sergeant.
“The Right Reverend Lucifer Jones,” I corrected him.
“Here's your gear,” he said, handing me a small cardboard box. “And this letter was hand-delivered for you about an hour ago.”
I opened it up and read it. My Dear Doctor Jones:
Once again I have found collaborating with you to be a stimulating and enriching experience. I had been planning to steal the Crown jewels for almost a month, but I had to wait until the perfect partner showed up, so you can imagine my elation when I saw you walking into Sherringford House's lecture three nights ago.
After I had arranged the wager and convinced you to join forces with me, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you betrayed me and tried to steal the jewels yourself. I also knew that House would have most of the London Metropolitan Police Force gathered at the Tower. The trick, of course, was to let you overhear me talking to myself as you approached my room at the Savoy, because I knew that the police would hold a few men in reserve to protect the rest of the city, and I had to find some way to get them all in one place, far from where the actual crime was being committed.
That is where you came in, Doctor Jones. Once you heard me say that I would be stealing the jewels from the Palace at eleven, I knew that I could count on two things: first, that you would keep this information to yourself and not divulge it to Sherringford House, and second, that you would show up sometime before eleven to rob the jewels yourself.
It only took a phone call to the police to alert them to the fact that someone would be breaking into the Palace between ten and eleven—and while they were apprehending you and Sherringford House was wasting his time in the Tower of London, I was free to commit the robbery that I had planned from the beginning.
If you will walk over to Bond Street after reading this letter, you will find a jewelry store owned by a Mr. Alastair Crown. Prior to last night, he had the Moons of Africa, three perfectly matched diamonds, on display in his window. They are now in my possession, and by the time you read this I will be out of the country.
As for the five thousand pounds, if you can convince House that he lost his wager, I happily forfeit all claim to it and gladly give it to you. It was a small enough investment, considering that it resulted in my acquiring some three million dollars’ worth of diamonds.
I realize that you may feel ill-used, but the fact of the matter is that I told both you and House the truth: I did in fact steal the Crown jewels exactly when I said I would do so. If you don't believe me, just ask Mr. Crown, who must be somewhat distraught at this moment and could doubtless use such spiritual comfort as a man of the cloth such as yourself might wish to bring him.
Yr. Obdt. Svt.,
Erich Von Horst
I crumpled up the letter and threw it on the floor, and then went out into the wilderness—which in this case happened to be a bench in Hyde Park—and had a long heart-to-heart with my Silent Partner, and we decided to pull up stakes and try our luck in some other municipality since we hadn't done all that well since arriving in London.
Then He went off to tend to other Godly business and left me to wonder why, where Erich Von Horst was concerned, I could be so stupid when I am so smart.
9. The Loch Ness Monster
I hopped a northbound train out of London, got involved in a friendly little game of chance with three of the conductors, and when I looked up we were not only out of England but had left Glasgow far behind us. I figured the next stop was probably the North Pole, but one of the conductors assured me that the train didn't go no farther than Inverness, which was plenty far enough as far as I was concerned, since I hadn't never heard of it.
Well, let me tell you, Inverness ain't one of the glittering capitals of Europe—or even of Scotland, if push comes to shove. One of the locals suggested I stay at Culloden House, which he told me was right where Bonnie Prince Charlie had been defeated, so I moseyed over and rented a room, but I couldn't find hide nor hair of no prince, so I reckoned he'd given up whatever fight he'd been in and gone on home to lick his wounds.
The chambermaid was a girl named Anna, whose father worked as the gameskeeper for local laird who owned most of the nearby property, and hit it off right quick for two people who didn't have much in common—I liked women and she hankered after men. It was after our idyllic little tryst that I asked her what the locals did to amuse themselves, which seemed like a perfectly innocent and harmless thing to ask, but her only response was to climb out of the bed and threw a lamp at me. I took this as a gentle reproof to the way I had worded my question, but after she threw a chair and both my shoes at me I could see that she was mildly displeased, so I simply thanked her for showing a stranger some of the brighter glories of Scotland and allowed that I would mosey on down to the local tavern and see if anyone there was more of a mind to direct me to such action as might be taking place in Inverness of a Tuesday evening.
Due to my little interlude with Anna, it was getting on toward midnight when I reached the tavern, and there weren't more than half a dozen old men sitting around, all staring at this great big clock over the bar. There were a bunch of nasty-looking fish mounted on the walls, with little metal plaques saying who caught them and when, and here and there were photos of some Brit wearing a crown, which I thought was probably King Edward but I didn't want to ask, just in case it turned out to be this Prince Charlie and he still had friends in the vicinity.
“Good evening, stranger,” said the bartender. “I haven't seen you here before.”
“I just got into town today,” I said, and since everyone was looking at me, I turned to face ’em. “The Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones at your service, weddings and baptisms done cheap, with a group rate for funerals.”
“Well, that's right generous of you, brother,” I said. “All them millions of people who swear the Scots are a mean, stingy, miserly race of tightwads obviously ain't been to Inverness lately.”
“Thank you,” said the bartender. “I think.”
“You plan on being here long, Reverend Jones?” asked one of the old guys who was sitting alone at a table.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Three of four hours of hard drinking and I ought to be ready for bed.”
“I meant, do you plan to stay in Inverness for any length of time?”
“I ain't made up my mind yet,” I said. “I've spent the last few years wandering the world, looking for the right spot for me and God to build our tabernacle.”
“Just getting the lay of the land, eh?”
Well, I thought I'd already got the lay of the land with Anna back at Culloden House, but it seemed ungentlemanly to mention it to strangers, at least until they started bragging about what they'd caught lately, so I just kind of nodded in agreement.
“If there's anything we can do to help, places to point out, things like that, just let us know,” he said.
“Well, as long as you're being so open and honest to a newcomer, what do you fellers do for excitement of a weekday evening?” I asked.
He looked around. “Should we tell him?”
The others all stared at me, and one by one they nodded.
“First,” he said, turning back to me, “you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“You got my word as a man of the cloth,” I said.
“All right,” he said. “After midnight, when the constable's gone to sleep, and the laird and his gameskeeper are all locked up in their castle for the night, we sneak over to the Loch and poach salmon.”
Well, if poaching salmon was their idea of a good time, I could see that Inverness wasn't the most wide-open town I'd ever been to. Personally, I couldn't see that it was any more exciting than poaching eggs, which is also not the most thrilling sport in the world, and I couldn't figure out why they had to wait until the constable and all them other people were asleep, unless there was some law on the books that the only way you could cook salmon was to fry or broil it, but it occurred to me that I hadn't eaten since I got off the train and that a little poached salmon on toast might just hit the spot, so I asked if I could tag along.