by Dick Gillman
Holmes leapt up shouting, “Four! You have four?” Holmes waved his hands towards the engine and waggons, “Does this collection of devices not concern you as to how it could be used?”
Scratching his head, Lestrade sat back and looked a little sheepish. “Well, no. Their use remains unclear.”
I could see that Holmes was now quietly fuming. With tremendous control, Holmes asked, “Was there any other material recovered from the raid on the Fenians?”
Lestrade reached down beside his desk and placed on his desk a ball of twine. I picked it up and unwound a small section. The twine had been marked with black paint every foot. He then began to rummage on the top of his desk and at last found a slim, cardboard folder. “There were a few letters, the twine of course, but nothing of great note. Then there was this… we don’t know what to make of it, Mr Holmes.” Lestrade pulled a foolscap piece of tracing paper from the file. It was blank except for a single line, drawn in a blue crayon. The line started with a letter ‘X’ and then continued straight for about four inches before then forming a gentle curve for two inches, ending in a letter ‘T’. Next to it was another ‘X’ and the figure ‘8’. Lestrade passed the tracing paper to Holmes, saying, “Do you think it important?”
Holmes put his forefinger to his lips. After a few moments he said, “On its own, it means nothing …but, in the end, it will tell me everything. May I keep it, for the moment?”
Again, Lestrade scratched his head. “Well, I don’t see why not… it means nothing to us.”
Holmes stood and nodded in thanks before asking, “Does the name O’Leary mean anything to you, Lestrade?”
Lestrade leaned forwards in his chair and I noticed a glint in his eye. “Would that be Sean O’Leary, Mr Holmes? If so, watch out. He is a killer and a man we would dearly like to get our hands on.”
Holmes smiled and then closed Lestrade’s door. Quickly finding a cab, we left Scotland Yard behind. Once more back in Baker Street, we were welcomed home by Mrs Hudson who had prepared a delightful dinner of lamb chops and spring vegetables. Feeling replete, we retired to our armchairs, each of us, I believe, turning over the events of the day.
As I sat and smoked, several questions began to trouble me. “Tell me, Holmes, why were you so concerned about the waggons for the engine?”
Holmes was staring straight ahead. “I think we must look at the events as a whole, Watson, and all will become clear. There is only one small piece of the jigsaw to find and put in place.” Holmes turned towards me, saying, “Let us consider this. The Fenians over the last ten years have caused panic and mayhem in London through a campaign of violence, largely through the use of dynamite. A clockmaker has, I believe, been coerced into making a device with which they can deliver dynamite. You will recall that, in Lestrade’s experiment, he was able to carry a load of four pounds. I think you would agree, Watson, that some considerable damage might be caused by that quantity of dynamite.”
I nodded and urged Holmes to continue. “So, Watson, we have these beasts of burden. What now?”
Holmes’ words provoked a sudden flash of inspiration, “Mules!” I cried out.
Holmes smiled grimly, “Precisely, Watson, but how are they to be used? You will recall last year that the Fenians were foiled in their attempt to blow up Westminster Abbey and Her Majesty. What other target might they choose… a political one perhaps?”
It took me but a moment to say, “The Prime Minister! Sean O’Bryan… he befriended Catherine Ward to obtain… to obtain a map of the pipework beneath… Good Lord! Westminster!”
Holmes nodded, “Yes, perhaps she asked too many questions or suspected his motives regarding Downing Street. Either way, she had to die. She could identify Sean O’Leary, or O’Bryan, as he called himself and she knew precisely the area he was interested in.”
Pausing for a moment, Holmes seemed now to be considering the mechanics of the plot. “So, how exactly is this to be done? I believe that O’Leary and his men intend to use the mechanical ‘mule’ to transport dynamite through some underground pipework that sits beneath Downing Street.” Holmes paused again and, as if asking the question of himself, he continued, “Perhaps a more pressing need is to determine when this is to happen and where they might gain access to the pipes. I must contact Mycroft to establish the Prime Minister’s engagements.”
Holmes rose from his chair and began to pace, a clear sign of his grave concern. “I expect the maps of Miss Ward’s employer to show not only their own hydraulic pipe network but the cables, pneumatic pipes and sewers of other companies. We must have sight of these plans, Watson.”
Holmes consulted his pocket watch, saying, “Their offices will be closed for the day but no doubt my brother will still be in Whitehall.” Reaching for his notebook, Holmes paused briefly and then thoughtfully wrote out a telegram. “I must try not to alarm Mycroft for no doubt the Fenians will have spies or sympathisers within Whitehall. We do not want them warned off. Tell me what you think of this, Watson: ‘Mycroft, it is my intention to call upon the Prime Minister in Downing Street this week. Please advise as to his engagements for the week. Sherlock.’ I think that is appropriate… and Mycroft is no fool.” I nodded. I was very much aware that Mycroft Holmes was a man with an intellect at least equal to that of his brother. Holmes rang the bell for Mrs Hudson who then duly collected the telegram.
Chapter 8 – Mycroft takes the bait
Sitting back in our armchairs, we enjoyed a pipe of tobacco. Holmes had his head in a copy of The Police Gazette and the occasional snort and chortle from him proved to me that he read it purely for amusement rather than as a source of information! For my part, I picked up my copy of The Lancet for late March and began to read the final section of a most informative paper detailing the results of a trial of open-air treatment of tuberculosis.
After perhaps half an hour, the sound of a Hansom drawing up in the street below and a familiar tread on the stairs announced the arrival of Mycroft Holmes. Without even knocking, Mycroft swept in, depositing his hat and coat on the back of our chaise longue and nodding a greeting in my direction. “I take it, Sherlock, that your telegram was intended as some crude form of bait designed to entice me here?”
Holmes smiled, saying, “Clearly it had the desired effect.”
Mycroft’s response was to say, “A simple invitation to Baker Street for a glass of Sherry might have sufficed.”
Holmes rose from his chair. “Possibly, as I am aware that you have no great liking for it.”
Mycroft nodded, adding, “My point, exactly!”
I put down The Lancet and regarded the two brothers. Over the years I had become used to this intellectual, fraternal fencing. The cutting comment, the parry and riposte; each brother trying to score a point against the other. I now regarded it as commonplace.
Holmes returned to his chair and invited Mycroft to sit. Picking up his pipe, Holmes drew steadily upon it and began to explain the happenings of the previous few days, saying, “There was a good reason for the content of the telegram Mycroft…”
Over the next half hour I could see the furrows on Mycroft’s brow deepen as he recognised the potential for disaster. It was when Mycroft was shown the tracing paper seized during the raid on the Fenians that he asked, “Do you think that this attack is imminent?”
Holmes’ face was grim. “I believe that they will waste no time. Their operation has been put at risk both by the raid by Special Branch and the death of Mihail Konsulov… and, they have lost one of their ‘mules’. It is indeed fortunate that we have been able to link the death of Catherine Ward to O’Leary. He is a very cautious man and has left no incriminating map of where they are to strike. The lines on the tracing paper are meaningless without the corresponding map.”
Understanding struck me like a thunderbolt! “Of course, the tracing paper… it is a template… no, an overlay!”
Holmes drew upon his pipe and blew out a thin stream of blue smoke before saying, “There is something mor
e. I believe that the figure 8 on the tracing paper may be particularly significant… but I require confirmation from you Mycroft. The House of Commons in Westminster is not sitting… but what are the Prime Minister’s engagements for the 8th of April?”
On hearing this, I spluttered, “But…but that is tomorrow!”
I looked towards Mycroft, his complexion now looked almost grey. Mycroft stood and reached for his hat and coat, saying, “He is to have a full cabinet meeting at 3p.m. at10 Downing Street with the heads of the Metropolitan Police and The Special Irish Branch. I must return to Whitehall, Sherlock. This cannot be allowed to happen.”
Holmes was seen to remove his pipe from his mouth and hold up a cautionary hand. “Do not be too hasty Mycroft, this needs some careful thought. If the Fenians get even an inkling of our suspicions, they will disappear. Were they to strike again, it would be without us knowing their hand. Many more innocent lives would undoubtedly be lost.”
Mycroft paused, sensing that his brother had more to say. Sitting again, he asked, “What do you propose, Sherlock?”
Holmes had moved to the edge of his seat, his eyes now bright, burning like coals. “As I understand it Mycroft, The London Hydraulic Power Company does not have the monopoly on underground workings in Westminster. There are, I believe, discreet underground passageways that link important government and, perhaps, even Royal buildings. These passageways are, I would imagine, invisible on any commercial map.”
I sat intrigued and looked at Mycroft who now seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable in his seat. Shuffling more than a little, Mycroft nodded. “That may well be the case, Sherlock. I am not at liberty to say more… but how might they be useful in the present situation?”
Holmes was clearly enjoying the intellectual aspect of devising his plan but, I believe, he was taking an equal amount of pleasure from seeing his brother’s obvious discomfort!
Holmes continued, “I suggest that you tell only the Prime Minister and the two senior police officers of our suspicions. As a sensible precaution, the moment the Cabinet is fully assembled and the front door is closed, 10 Downing Street is to be evacuated through the passageways beneath. It is logical to assume that an attack would occur at a time when the Cabinet meeting was well underway so as to inflict maximum casualties. This works in our favour and would allow time for the evacuation.”
Holmes paused and then slammed his fist down upon the arm of his chair. “We must not let these villains slip through our grasp, Mycroft. They must be stopped! I intend to visit The London Hydraulic Power Company early tomorrow morning and determine the location from which they intend to strike.”
Mycroft nodded, saying, “I will go directly to Downing Street. Expect a telegram within the hour.” With that, Mycroft swept from our rooms.
True to his word, barely an hour later, Mrs Hudson appeared with her tray that contained two cups of tea and a government telegram. Holmes opened it and laughed aloud. “Listen to this, Watson: ‘The P.M. looks forward to seeing you on the 9th. He hopes you will join him for a glass of sherry.’ Hah! It seems Mycroft has succeeded!”
Holmes and I sat a little longer. The mirth from reading Mycroft’s telegram had dispersed and matters had indeed become more serious. Holmes leant towards me, saying, “Once we have had sight of the plans and obtained the information we need, Watson, there will be some considerable personal danger in what lies ahead.”
I was grateful for, and a little touched by, Holmes’ concern for my safety. I rose and turned to go to my room, saying, “Where you lead, Holmes, I shall follow. Have no fear, my service revolver will be cleaned and loaded before I retire.” Holmes smiled and nodded and I left him to his thoughts.
Chapter 9 – A map of Westminster
We rose quite early the following morning and, after a light breakfast, headed downstairs to take a cab to Pimlico where Catherine Ward had been employed. The twenty-minute cab ride was almost in silence. Both of us, I believe, were thinking of the afternoon to come that could well be fraught with danger.
The offices of The London Hydraulic Power Company were housed in a grand, baroque, red brick building. Its architecture reflected the importance of a company that now provided power for some of the most prestigious addresses in London. Leaving the cab, we walked up the steps of the building and into a foyer that might have been plucked from a grand hotel. Oak panelling graced the walls either side of the entrance and the ceiling was adorned with ornate, moulded plasterwork. This style of decoration was mirrored by the gracious reception area, which was, in turn, completed by a fine crystal chandelier.
Holmes approached the desk, touched his hat, presented his card to a receptionist and asked to see the General Manager. After but a few moments, a well-dressed gentleman appeared, clutching Holmes’ card.
Nodding to us both, he greeted us with a hearty “Good morning, gentlemen, I am Anthony Smith, the General Manager. I have to say that I am somewhat surprised to welcome a private detective to our offices.”
Holmes touched his hat, saying, “Good morning, I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague Dr John Watson. We would like to discuss with you the rather delicate matter of the death of Miss Catherine Ward.” Holmes looked towards Mr Smith and his face bore a winning smile as he asked, “Do you think that we might go somewhere a little more private?” In contrast, Anthony Smith now looked particularly uncomfortable.
Looking around him, he gestured to us both, saying, “This way, gentlemen.” He ushered us, with some deal of haste, towards an ornately carved door upon which gilded letters announced his name and title. Once inside, we were invited to sit. When seated, it was Holmes who took the lead. “Mr Smith, I will come straight to the point. We have been reliably informed that Miss Ward removed and took home one of the maps of your pipework, for personal reasons, in the days before her death.” Holmes leant forward in his chair and, as if to emphasize the point, he added, “Please excuse me if I have not used the precise terminology for these documents.”
Smith just blinked, saying, “That is impossible! Our plans are in constant use. They are signed out and signed back in on a ‘one day’s use only’ basis by our clerks whenever they are requested.”
Holmes’ voice became slightly more forceful. “Nevertheless, I assure you that it did happen. Perhaps you might check the records for the plan of Westminster and I would also need to have sight of the plan.”
It was clear that this was an unusual request and, as I watched, Smith took out his handkerchief and blotted his brow, saying, “I am not sure that I can allow this…”
Holmes’ fist crashed down on Smith’s desk. “Mr Smith! You will get the record and the plan immediately. I do not have time to waste on red tape! If it takes a request by telegram to Lord Crump, the chairman of this company and a personal friend of mine, then so be it. I do not believe that he would be well pleased if he knew his General Manager was impeding a murder inquiry which involved malpractice within the company.”
On hearing this, Smith fairly bounded for the door and summoned the Head Clerk who was despatched poste-haste to retrieve the documents. Holmes sat bolt upright in his chair. I had to smile as I observed Smith almost hopping from one foot to the other as he impatiently waited for the clerk’s return. He was now sweating profusely and even more so as Holmes took out his pocket watch from his waistcoat, consulted it and then briskly snapped it shut.
Within no more than three or four minutes, the clerk returned with a large, linen-backed plan and a record book. The plan was quickly spread out on Smith’s desk whilst he began to search through the signatures in the record book. Holmes, in the meantime, had withdrawn from his coat pocket the all-important tracing paper and was now searching for a matching pattern amongst the pipework.
Smith coughed discreetly. “It err… it seems, Mr Holmes, that you are correct. This particular plan was signed out by Catherine Ward on the 2nd of April and not returned to storage until the 4th of April.”
Holmes nodded briefly. “Tel
l me, Mr Smith, to whom does this section of pipe belong and how is it accessed at this point?” I looked down at the map and saw that Holmes had a perfect match with the tracing paper and his finger was pointing to a letter ‘X’.
Smith leant forward, saying, “Ah, that is a private spur of the London Pneumatic Despatch Company and runs beneath Downing Street. It is not in use as the original company failed some six years ago but all the original pipework is intact. The point you have marked is an underground service chamber. Several pipelines pass through it and a new interceptor sewer passes beneath, with access and drainage manholes.” Smith placed his finger at the start of Downing Street and then moved it a little way to the east. “To get to this chamber there is but one entrance, here, on Richmond Terrace. This symbol, ‘G’, indicates that access is via a gated doorway which will be padlocked.”
Holmes nodded. Taking out his silver pencil, he made a note of the access gateway on the tracing paper, asking, “And what is the scale of this plan?”
Smith leant forwards and referred to a small legend, “It is a plan drawn to a scale of twelve feet to the inch, Mr Holmes.”
Without further ado, Holmes returned the tracing paper to his coat pocket and touched his hat, saying, “Thank you, Mr Smith. We will trouble you no further.” With that, Holmes swept from the office leaving me to simply nod a ‘Good bye’ before hurrying after him.
Swiftly hailing a Hansom, we made our way back towards Baker Street. During the journey I reflected on the information we had gathered and I felt the need to ask, “Do you have a friendship with Lord Crump, Holmes?”
Holmes smiled. “I do indeed know the gentleman. He is the father of Lady Elizabeth Crump. You may recall meeting Lady Elizabeth during our first encounter with Julia Moriarty. As to his being a personal friend… that may be a slight exaggeration.”
We arrived at Baker Street at a little after mid-day and readied ourselves for the task ahead. “Tell me, Holmes, were you able to determine the size of this service chamber from the plans?”