Against the Brotherhood

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  I saw men standing inside the portcullis who carried weapons of three hundred years ago—crossbows and pikes—along with formidable sidearms of more recent manufacture. They watched the carriage as it drew up, and I saw the coachman wince as two of these formidable guards came up to take the pair in hand from him. Although they wore no uniforms, they had the look of seasoned, professional soldiers. This schloss was an armed camp, and I was the enemy inside it. The notebooks in my carpetbag suddenly seemed about to burst into flame.

  “You may step down, Mister Jeffries,” said Herr Dortmunder. “I think you would do well to bring your own bag. We have few servants here.”

  Obediently I left the calash and took my carpetbag, filled with relief at his suggestion. The last thing I wanted to do was surrender the bag. Tempting as it was I did not look around with too much curiosity because I had the strong impression that such obvious interest would not be welcomed by the people here. I watched Herr Dortmunder for some indication of where I was to go.

  At last he turned to me. “You will come with me.” With that he set off through the massive oaken doors of the schloss. “Stay close behind me. If you do not, the men will shoot you.” With that for encouragement, I followed after him, trying to take in as much of the place as I could without seeming to do so. After traversing a drafty room, we entered a stone corridor that led to what I supposed must be the heart of the building, to a baronial hall with a huge hearth with a blazing log set within it. On the chimney was another representation of the Egyptian eye. For decorations, the arms of what I assumed were noble German houses were displayed on the walls. Here was the gold-and-black lozengy of old German Württemberg rulers, and next to it, gules with argent per fess of Austria, followed by the quartered arms of Hungary; beyond that, the displayed black eagle of Prussia, and then the three crowned lions’ heads on an azure field of Dalmatia. It was then that I realized what was troublesome about the arms: all were upside down. That was clearly no oversight or accident. This place was dedicated to their defeat.

  Herr Dortmunder stopped and pointed to me to sit down. I did this, on an odiously uncomfortable wooden chair with a high, straight back. We remained there for the better part of an hour, Herr Dortmunder occasionally relieving the tedium by pacing the length of the hall, then pausing to stand before the massive hearth, hands behind his back, about as forbidding as the stones around him.

  I spent the time trying to place the various reversed arms. I was reasonably certain that the golden goat with the red horns and hooves on the azure field was for the Margrave of Istria, but the attenuated argent goat rampant breathing fire on vert puzzled me, as did the red device like an English label or a bishop’s mantle on an argent field. The black bull’s head on the per pale azure and gules also was unfamiliar to me; the colped arm emerging from a cloud and wielding a scimitar I eventually recalled was Bosnia and Herzegovina. So it appeared—if this display meant anything—that the Brotherhood was determined to bring down every noble house from Moscow to London, just as Mycroft Holmes had implied when he put me in the way of meeting Mister Vickers.

  Finally, as my nerves were beginning to fray and the hall was growing dark, the far door opened and an emaciated figure entered the room, striding purposefully forward, his hand extended to Herr Dortmunder. I rose, anticipating an introduction.

  None was offered. The two men spoke quickly and in whispers, then the very thin man departed again, leaving us once more in the gathering dark.

  “We will have lamps brought soon,” Herr Dortmunder told me, as if this were a great concession to me. “And something to eat, as well. It is growing late.” He went to face the flames.

  “Well, I won’t say they aren’t welcome,” I told him, making sure my German was not as good as it could be.

  “Von Metz will come shortly. He wishes to speak with you for himself.” He said this as if he were offering me a high treat. I remembered then that Mycroft Holmes had warned me about the fellow back in London, and there had been a mention of him since then. I tried to remember it. It came to me at last: one of the men at the edge of the canyon in Luxembourg had said the name, calling him a devil. I once again wondered who those men were and why they had made that desperate attempt on my life. The fear that they were not simple thieves determined to prey upon a traveler returned tenfold, and left me shaken.

  “I’ll look forward to that,” I said, doing my best to seem interested and greedy enough to convince them I was the sort of man they were searching for.

  “Do not think you will deceive him. He is very powerful. Very,” said Dortmunder; I thought I detected a trace of fear in him, and the manner of one who is cowed by his superior.

  I did my best to look interested but slightly skeptical, as I was aware a man of Jeffries’ stamp must, but inwardly I was beginning to feel much distressed.

  The man who came into the room was not a large fellow; of moderate height, fair hair running to white, and eyes of so pale a blue that they seemed made of ice; unlike ice, their gaze was hot. He had on a leather hacking jacket with suede collar. I came to my feet again but could not bring myself to approach him, for there was a palpable air of evil around him.

  “This is Herr von Metz,” said Herr Dortmunder, with the look of one who is presenting a ruler with a capricious temperament.

  “Thank you, Herr Dortmunder,” he said in excellent English, undoubtedly for my benefit. “Our truant has arrived. A fortunate thing for you, young man. I do not often tolerate any departure from my plans. Had you delayed reporting to my men another day, we would have been forced to look for you. And kill you once we found you.” He strolled in my direction, and held out his hand as he looked me over, though not in greeting; I felt rather like a prize piece of stock about to be bred or slaughtered, at von Metz’s fancy.

  “I had to come a different way,” I said, feeling like a child reporting to a teacher in class.

  “We knew about the delayed trains; we were prepared to accommodate the change of times. We are not entirely isolated here,” said von Metz. “Some of us travel, as well. I have been kept informed of your movements since you left Vickers, with the exception of the time you spent in Luxembourg; my man there was, most unfortunately, called away, and I could not act quickly enough to fill the gap he left. Had he been there you would not have taken off on that ill-considered detour. An oversight he will answer for to me.” His glance flicked over my face; it was as if he had struck me. I began to suspect that what I had been told of this man’s power was not overstated. “It appears that you have had some ... adventure getting here.”

  “Adventure,” I said with a sudden, hard laugh. “I have been nearly killed twice.”

  “That should not have happened. If anyone is to kill you, we will do it,” said von Metz in such a tone as I never want to hear spoken by a human being again in my life. “Tell me what befell you, from the time you left London until now. And keep in mind there are marksmen in the gallery above. They will shoot at my signal or at any intemperate act on your part.”

  FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF PHILIP TYERS:

  They have pulled a body from the Thames, one of a young woman who was done most horribly to death. Her name is not known, but she had put a note in her mouth before she was tortured, and since it appears she was gagged, the note was not discovered by those who killed her. It was written in the same hand as the anonymous note M.H. received just before G. undertook the mission, and although somewhat damaged, it is nonetheless readable. In this note, which is addressed to M.H., the writer states that she is aware that she has been found, and she has secured an egg of opium, and will take it in order to keep from satisfying her attackers.

  This has distressed M.H. very much, and he has informed Scotland Yard that the woman had stumbled upon some secret which she felt was too dangerous to impart, and who had feared for her life, with excellent cause. He has made a copy of her note and passed
it on to Scotland Yard with misgivings.

  When he confronted the two men from the Admiralty, he was in no mood for nonsense. His one piece of welcome news was confirmation that the Mercury train would be at his disposal from midnight tonight. M.H. will leave for the coast and the Channel as soon as this matter of the A. is resolved.

  The first man, a confidential records clerk for the A., is Harold Worthing, a young follow with better family connections than personal resources, which is to say he is a spendthrift and a fool, at least according to M.H. The young man has been much in the company of the young widowed Hungarian Countess Erezebet Nagy, and is clearly infatuated with her. The connection is not a wise one. She is known to work for those who pay the best and is currently accepting fees from the Russians.

  The second man, also a records clerk, though of somewhat lesser station, is Arthur Upton, who has been at his post for six years without any trace of misbehavior. Yet it was upon this second man that M.H. bent his attention.

  After assuring these two men that everything discussed would be confidential, M.H. announced that he had determined that one of the two of them, or possibly the two working together, were responsible for the purloining of his Admiralty packet and the wrecking of his flat. He said to them both that the amount filched from the Admiralty over the last twenty months was staggering—more than seven thousand pounds. “But done in shillings and pence, so that it was not very noticeable. And on the return invoices. I suppose you thought they would be less noticeable, and for a time, you were right. The device is so uncomplicated. It was simply a matter of rounding off the figures and pocketing the difference, wasn’t it?” This he addressed to Mister Upton.

  The fellow blustered in protest, claiming he had no knowledge of such things.

  “It was your entries that were the ones I noticed. You were not so obvious at first; a few rounded figures in a list of twenty attract no attention. But success led you to greed and in the last several months, there are more and more rounded figures. I supposed the money must be going somewhere, and a word to your banker revealed that you had opened a second bank account, supposedly for a small trust, but, in fact, to hide your pilfering. “M.H. glared at Worthing. “You, sir, accepted a bribe from this man—which is preferable to accepting one from the Russians or the Turks, but still enough to dismiss you from your post—to inform him of your schedule of invoices received.”

  Poor Worthing was already quite shaken, and now could not wait to confess his guilt.

  “You may do that later,” said M.H., his expression still grave. He once again turned to Upton. “What was it? A mistress or the horses? Or gambling?” He said the last with a pounce. “Did you make the classic mistake of all men who game—that having lost, you must risk more in the hope of restoring your losses?” He pulled a notebook from his jacket. “I have here the records, supplied to me not an hour ago, from Remy des Langres, in Curzon Street. He, it seems, holds your vowels. They add up to quite a formidable figure.”

  “The devil’s been in the games. I know I shall come about,” he said, putting a bold face on his error. “I intend to repay all the debts. Truly I do.”

  M.H. sighed, his voice dropping to a deep whisper. “And for this petty gaming mania of yours, I have had to let a good, loyal, and brave man go into mortal danger. Your little flirtation with corruption has placed an honorable civil servant at hazards compared to which your financial embarrassments are as nothing.” He fixed Upton with a hard stare. “Guthrie is a far better man than you, deserving of all the help I can provide him. He has undertaken his mission on behalf of the safety of this country—a mission you were willing to imperil for the turn of a card or the roll of the dice. You are contemptible. If he loses his life, be it on your head, sir.”

  Upton was quite pale now, and Worthing was trembling. “I ... I never thought that it would come to this,” he said in a strange, fawning manner.

  “More fool you,” said M.H. without pity.

  Worthing was on his feet. “I had no notion of his reasons for wanting to know my schedule.”

  “But there are others who would offer you more attractive items for your help,” said M.H. heavily. “Your friendship with Countess Nagy is unwise, and could easily lead you into a far more devastating error than you have made. She is not the victim of fate you think her, and once in her toils, you could do inestimable harm. Your position is what makes you attractive to her, not your breeding or your probably genuine affection. Your resignation will be accepted today.” He paused, then added, “Had you been the one taking money, you would be clapped in as a traitor. As it is, you have shown yourself to be too imprudent for the trust reposed in you.” Then he rounded on Upton once more. “You, sir, will find that there are officers below waiting for you. Go along with them. Let me advise you to give them no trouble, for you have enough on your plate already.”

  Upton shot M.H. a look of such loathing as I hope never to see again. “You think you’re above it all, don’t you? You think that you can never succumb. You believe you are immune to the lures of the world, and can look with contempt on those who are suffering. You sit here in your flat and the spiders spin their webs around you, for your uses. Well, I hope your schemes foil and you come to disgrace.” He put on his hat and started toward the door.

  M.H. said to his back, “For what satisfaction it may give you, Mister Upton, I very much fear that may already have happened.”

  IT WOULD HAVE taken a far stauncher man than I am to refuse the order von Metz gave me. Trying not to look upward for the marksmen, I took a deep breath, and began, “When I had purchased new shirts for this journey, I caught the train for Dover where a man who looked like a professor boarded the same compartment and gave me new instructions and tickets for my travels, saying that Mister Vickers, in effect, did not trust me.” I managed to appear ill-used as I reported this. I continued on to the attempt to drown me as it happened in Calais.

  “Who was this man, do you know?” von Metz asked me. Until then I had never truly known what it was to actually shiver in my boots. Yet if pressed, I could not have described what it was that so frightened me about von Metz, for superficially he looked like nothing more than a prosperous, somewhat arrogant man who might have been a judge or perhaps a fellow in the world of business, like Krupp or one of those.

  “I had no chance to ask him anything; I was drugged. He was trying to drown me.” It was no effort to sound ill-used at this moment. “I do not like to think what would have happened to me if he had not liked the answers I gave him.”

  “How came he to know where you were?” Von Metz made this question an accusation, one that I flinched to hear.

  “How should I know?” I answered with more sharpness of tone than was prudent. “He came into the bath and shoved me under the water, didn’t he?”

  “You say he did.” Von Metz was not convinced of my blamelessness at this moment.

  “And someone searched my room and my bag while all that was going on. Vickers didn’t say anything about this kind of ... trouble.” That was the least I could call it. “I would have asked for better wages if I had known there would be men like that after me.”

  “All right,” said von Metz. “Continue.”

  I explained about how I had searched for any losses in my things and had only been able to complain of the loss of a razor. I made my complaint to this man as well, claiming I had purchased it, nearly new and toffy, and resented its loss. I then described my journey to Paris, remarking that I had a pretty traveling companion for that leg of the trip, but volunteered no additional information about Miss Penelope Gatspy. I thought that it might be dangerous for her if these men knew of her, and she was already at great risk, if her tale was true; if it was not, then I needed to be more circumspect than ever, for there was no telling what her mission might be, or how the Brotherhood would answer her for it. Next I accounted for my night in P
aris, and then described the events after my arrival in Luxembourg, including the remark I overheard on the cliff when I was attacked, calling von Metz a devil. The memory of those two men dying jolted me.

  “How pleasant to be understood by one’s enemies, so much more so than the approbation of one’s friends,” said von Metz with a degree of inner satisfaction any cat might envy. “I am gratified those hypocrites have not forgotten me entirely.”

  I did not like to think what such remarks might portend. “The host there at the inn let me take a new coat, seeing as mine was ruined; there were plenty in storage, and the host said he could spare one,” I went on, doing my best to maintain my composure. “It was a nice one,” I went on, rubbing the lapel in approval.

  “A pity that Sanglot wasn’t there,” said Herr Dortmunder to von Metz.

  “Yes. He should have refused his sister’s importunities until this matter was taken care of.” Von Metz came up and looked at my face again. “How badly were you injured?”

  “Took a couple nasty cuts and got knocked about,” I said, offering my hand and wrist as proof; for some reason I did not want to have to tell him about the more serious wound. “Worst was the tears in my clothes.”

  “It must have been quite a battle, if you were able to defeat two such clever assassins,” said von Metz with a bit too much speculation for my satisfaction.

  “A man lives by his wits long enough, he learns a thing or two,” I said with all the bravado I supposed this von Metz would expect from one such as Jeffries. I did my best to put a good face on it, hoping that my queasiness did not show. “Not that it wasn’t a near thing, because it was. They knew what they were doing, those two. If I hadn’t had some luck going for me, I should have been put paid to, and no one the wiser.”

  “It does seem that you have had to endure a great deal on our account,” said von Metz with the kind of sympathy that made me squirm. “We will have to remedy that in some manner.”