New Mysteries

After he had sat me down, and I regained my composure, he assured me that he was, in fact, who he claimed to be, and even showed me a picture of himself with Sir Michael and his mother. When I said that picture could be of friends together, he said he now understood how my mind had been influenced by Holmes and how I must have been of significant help to the great man.

I was in no mood for chit-chat and I told him as much. But since I did not know what he knew, I could not tell him why I had such a bizarre reaction. So I asked him to bear with me as I asked a few questions.

“Sir Thomas, did you know where your father had been or on what purpose, when he was killed?”

“No, Dr. Watson; not at all. I only know it was important. When my father was killed along with Mr. Holmes, I was told by the Ministry that he had been on secret war business, and that I could be proud of what he had done for his country.”

“Who told you this, Sir Thomas?”

“Why, the Foreign Secretary, Mr. Balfour.”

“One more thing, please, how come you never got to Ekaterinburg?”

“But how did you know that? No one was supposed to know that.”

“Please, trust me, what happened? Who or what detained you?”

“Dr. Watson, I’m not sure I should be talking to you about my whereabouts in Russia. At the time, it was most secret.”

“Sir Thomas, I was an intimate of your father during the last weeks of his life. I myself cannot tell you where he was or what he was doing for the same secrets of State, but you know from the newspapers and Mr. Balfour that he was doing something very special for the nation. You also know that since Mr. Holmes died with your father, they were working together. Had it not been for a turn of fate, I too, would have been killed along with them.

“Please, Sir Thomas, why did you never get through to Ekaterinburg?”

He thought heavily for a few more minutes while pacing about, then sat opposite me.

“Dr. Watson, it is obvious you know a great deal more than you or anyone not directly involved is supposed to. Furthermore, you are the only person who has claimed to have direct knowledge of my father before he died. Yes, I’ll trust you. But I require one guarantee.”

“Ask it.”

“That as soon as you are able, you shall tell me everything about this business; everything about my father.”

“Done.

“Good. Dr. Watson, I had been sent into Russia in early June, into Petrograd. I was waiting for transportation to Vologda, and from there to Ekaterinburg, when I was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped, you say? By whom? For what?”

“The ‘whom’ I know: Whites. The ‘for what’, I still don’t know.”

“This makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” I said. Then it struck me. “Sir Thomas, why were you being sent into Russia?”

“Another good question, Dr. Watson. I was told I would be informed once there. But I never met Sir George Buchanan, he was already in Vologda, and the only person I had direct contact with was a Cheka Colonel...”

“By the name of Relinsky. I know.”

“But, my God, how do you know that?”

“That is all part of what I cannot, as yet, tell you. But please, how did you finally succeed in being released?”

“They just let me go. I was released about a week later with the admonition to say nothing to anyone or they would find me wherever I was and see to it that I was killed.

“I don’t mind telling you, Dr. Watson, that this whole experience was like nothing I had ever encountered before. It was what I would expect from some clandestine operation thick with spies; or something like you and Mr. Holmes were involved in, I suppose.

“I’m a diplomat. I never had training or classes in kidnapping behaviour.”

“But you said these abductors were Whites. How did you know that?”

“They, themselves, basically told me so. They said they were working against the Bolshevik Revolution, and that since I was British, I was a tool of the Reds.

“When I explained the British were practically funding the counter-revolution single-handedly, they would just laugh and demand to see the millions in pounds sterling that I had for them. They would personally turn it over to Admiral Kolchak, they laughed.

“Anyway, I got the impression the whole thing was a sham of some kind. That maybe they weren’t really Whites. I don’t know anymore. I was treated all right and released, and upon my return to our consulate in Petrograd, I was told to use the name ‘Stanley’, and I would be taken back to England shortly on a British ship of the line.”

“Now, don’t tell me,” I said, “Let me really play the mind reader here. You were taken back aboard a wounded cruiser, the Attentive, correct?”

I have never seen such a look of pure disbelief and astonishment on anyone’s face. Had I told him sand would become the most precious commodity in the world on the morrow, I am absolutely convinced he would not have been more stunned. He slowly regained his composure and responded.

Also, Admiral Yardley had been his host on the return trip, and neither knew of the other’s connection to Sir Michael. What a pity that was.

“When I returned, I was kept in seclusion for ‘debriefing’ and rest, I was told, and was permitted my freedom again towards the latter part of July. In August I was made a knight for my services to the crown. I thought it a bit odd, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say.”

There was no more he could tell me, and there was no more I could tell him. I said to him I would be speaking with him in the very near future, and I headed home; it now being late in the afternoon.

By the time I arrived, I was exhausted from the day’s labours, and was thrilled to see Elizabeth racing towards me as I took a step in through the door. However, this joy turned to concern when I noticed Elizabeth’s face.

“John, there is someone here to see you. Knowing how tired you’d be, I tried, but I really couldn’t keep him out. I didn’t know what to do, so I just let him in.”

“What? Elizabeth, you and John are all right, then?”

“Oh, quite, quite. He has been a perfect gentleman.”

“Who, Elizabeth? Who is here to see me?”

“John, it is a Mr. John Clay.”

John Clay? Here in my own house? I had not actually seen the criminal since 1890, when Holmes solved the mystery of “The Red-Headed League”. But he had troubled us much after his escape. Especially after Moriarty died and he had become one of England’s most sinister criminals. I rushed into the parlour.

There sat the spider. I could almost see the strands of web emitting from his person, a criminal and crime at the end of each sticky string.

“How dare you come to my home?” I shouted.

“Why, Dr. Watson, I have always known you to be such a civil and courteous man. I would not expect this from you.”

“What else could you expect from me?”

“My, my, Dr. Watson, such venom from one usually so pacific. To have listened to Mr. Holmes and yourself over the years, it should be I spitting forth venom.”

“I do not find you amusing, and I have no wish to find you again. Anywhere. Now what is it that you want? Why are you here?”

“May I sit, again, Dr. Watson?”

“You may not. Just state your business and get out!”

He looked at me through almost closed eyes. I knew I was not the intellectual equal of this man, yet I felt I had the upper hand in my own home.

“Dr. Watson, what I am here to say, you will probably not believe, but I shall say it anyway.”

He reminded me of nothing more than a doppelganger of his

former mentor as he stood there with dark suit and cloak, even though the weather was mild and agreeable. His head shook from side to side in imitation of the late professor. Holmes regarded Moriarty as a cold-blooded reptile and Clay now appeared to be no different.

“Dr. Watson, whatever you and Mr. Holmes thought of me is of no consequence now, as are you of no consequence now that Mr. Holmes is no longer with us. But whatever you and he made of me, whatever mould you cast me in, however dangerous you portrayed me to the world, remember that I am of royal blood and the one epithet neither of you ever darkened my reputation with was that of ‘traitor’.” “Traitor? What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about this, Dr. Watson: that for the many years before Mr. Holmes retired, he had proved my one constant. He was the one man in England, in the entire Empire, who I could count on to be a proper intellectual challenge. While you thought Holmes to be keeping his bees serenely down in Sussex, without your knowledge, we had challenged each other on a semi-regular basis. Now that challenge is gone. I shall miss the parry and thrust, the superlative anticipation of turning a shadowed corner to wonder if Holmes had already divined my thoughts and would be there waiting.

“Dr. Watson, I am trying to say that whatever I may be, I do love England.”

“This is absurd, Clay. You suddenly claim patriotism.”

“I do so because it is true. I am an Englishman. My grandfather, as you will recall, was a royal duke. I, too, in my own way, aided our war effort. Have you not stopped to think why there were never any significant amounts of German sabotage at our shipyards? Have you never wondered why our rail systems and communications networks never experienced major turmoil? Have you never prognosticated on why even the Royal Family slept serenely in their beds unencumbered by the various enemy threats made upon their persons?

“Of course you haven’t, nor has anyone else. The only time anyone would have thought on these things was if disaster had struck. If our ships had been blown up like firecrackers in their berths; if our trains ran off the tracks; if our telephones and telegraphs came to a silent halt; if shots had been fired at the King, or Queen, or their offspring.

“It is because of me and my underlings that these things did not happen.”

“What are you implying, Clay?”

“Holmes himself said countless times how after Moriarty died I had donned his mantle. I sat at the epicentre of a giant web; and each strand was connected to some nefarious deed or group of criminals. He accused me of power at the shipyards, power at the stations and depots, and he assumed that every pickpocket in the city of London was tied in to me stronger than had been the Artful Dodger with Fagin.

“Well, he was absolutely correct, Dr. Watson. My men were, and are, virtually everywhere. They watch the shipyards and docks; by the way, how do you think I knew you were back the moment your foot touched British soil? They survey the railway stations and railway lines thus preventing any evil act before it can occur. Around Buckingham Palace, the very cutthroat pickpockets your Mr. Holmes railed to heaven about, those very same criminals were the ones whose eyes watched the palace day and night to spot anyone suspicious.

“And when they did, whoever it was they saw, saw no more. We do not have to abide by the rules of trial by jury. It is better to step on a bug before it can produce its filth.”

“Are you saying that you and your criminals have guarded England during the Great War?”

“Yes, Dr. Watson. By no means alone; but, yes. There was even a tacit compact between certain government agencies and myself to that effect. Since my men would not do well in the army or navy, they did their best to aid our victory in the only way they knew how.

“I have merely come to pay my respects to a fallen hero; for I know that antagonist that he was, Sherlock Holmes was a patriotic Englishman through and through, and much more likely than I to be called upon to do his part for his King and Country.”

At those words, a bell rang in my mind. My tone suddenly changed and Clay noticed immediately.

“Please forgive me. I thought you came on some heinous mission to threaten my wife and son and very home.”

“Dr. Watson, I am not a monster. I do not harass women and children.” He said this warily, like he was expecting something new to arise form our conversation; and he was quite correct.

“Clay, you are right about Holmes. He and I were on very important business to aid the war effort. That is why he met his end.”

“I understood it to be those cowardly German U-boats.”

“Perhaps.” As I said that, he gave an audible grunt. He knew instantly something was amiss.

“What do you mean, ‘Perhaps’?”

“Clay, what I am now going to ask you is beyond even my belief. Even one year ago, should anyone have told me I would be asking this of you, I would have thought them quite mad. But if I ever came to you and asked for your help in discovering the full truth behind the murder of Holmes, would you grant it?”

Now it was Clay who was taken aback. He eyed me as would a beggar whose hand held out was greeted by someone dangling a twenty pound note at his palm. He could not believe it, but he did not wish to chase the fortune away.

“Dr. Watson, are you saying that Holmes was not killed by a U-boat?”

“I am not. I am saying that in service to his country, he was killed. As yet, however, I am not sure I believe how.”

“This is bordering on absurd, doctor. I am now being asked by the compatriot of my late, great adversary, to help unravel the mystery of his demise.” He stopped for a moment and turned coy. “Should I grant you this favour, Dr. Watson, what recompense could I expect?”

“My tone was harsh, I am sorry. But you have come to pay your respects, you say, to a fallen hero of the Empire, even though the man was your sworn enemy. That shows a special chivalry. Something I never thought you possessed. Yet now you want to know how aiding me would benefit you? How quickly we lose our altruism.”

“That is not so, Dr. Watson. I would grant you a request to help in such manner. But this is so bizarre, so unexpected, I would not feel comfortable without some small token of your chivalry in return.”

“Very well, though I cannot tell you how I shall repay this kindness, will you accept my word of honour as a physician?”

“There are no words of honour from physicians. But I shall accept your word as Englishman.”

“Consider it given, Mr. Clay.”

“Very well.”

And then, though I never thought this could ever happen, and I prayed to the spirit of Holmes to forgive me, I shook hands with the Devil.

I rang Scapa Flow after Clay had gone. I was told Admiral Yardley had left for London the previous day and no, they did not know his destination.

I need not have worried; for at a few minutes past ten, Yardley appeared at our front door. After a very hardy handshake, I introduced him to Elizabeth, who with a knowing look, excused herself for the evening.

“Admiral, how did you know I was back?”

“I may not be in naval intelligence, but we old sea dogs have our own methods.” I offered him a drink but he settled for some cool tea, the night being so warm. After discussing some trivia, we came to our business.

“Admiral, please tell me all you know about the deaths of your son and friend, and my friend; for on that island we knew nothing.”

“You mean you just learned about the tragedy when you got back home?”

“That is precisely what I mean.”

“Damn! Close to a year and you didn’t even know what happened. I learned about it patrolling the North Atlantic. They said a U-boat had torpedoed the ship and Holmes, Michael, Peters and the rest, were all drowned or killed in the explosion.

“But I did some checking. They said it happened at a certain place and time; I did some calculations and found that travelling at the Salvator’s usual rate of speed, and taking into account the time which they left Eleuthera, they could not have been anywhere near their supposed site of sinking.

“My calculations put them closer to Bermuda.”

“Bermuda?”

“Yes, and listen to this, doctor. A captain friend of mine who was on duty in those waters, remembers some natives who claimed there was an explosion on the water one night, not too far from the island, at the time my calculations would have the Salvator there. It was around one in the morning.

“Which means that the Salvator was not sunk when it was supposed to have been, nor where it was supposed to have been. It means the reports were false and I wanted to know where the reports originated.”

“Let me guess, with intelligence?”

“Correct. I went to Newsome to see why. He told me that his radio people had picked up the Germans, in their code, talking about this spy ship coming from the Bahamas.”

“Spy ship? Where the devil would the Germans have gotten that from?”

“Newsome said the Germans thought the ship to be carrying important British agents and that it had been identified as previously being part of the British invasion force of Archangel. The U-Boat had orders to sink it immediately. Since this ship was nowhere in the logs, remember, it was a most secret mission, the intelligence people had absolutely no idea of what the Germans were jabbering about, and the matter was dropped. They thought it to be just so much mis-information.”

“So you are satisfied that the Germans sunk the Salvator?”

“That I am, but I am positive it was not sunk where our reports claimed it to be.”

“Then do you have any idea then what we should do?”

“No, absolutely none. I only know that my son is gone, along with Mr. Holmes and Michael.”

“My God, I have quite forgotten to tell you.” And I recounted my meeting with the real Sir Thomas Preston that day. The admiral just sat there more confused and disheartened than ever.

“My God, Michael’s boy with me on my very ship; and me in complete ignorance. Dr. Watson, this is too diabolical for me. I lack both the subtle mind of Mr. Holmes and the diplomatic mien of Michael. I am a bluff sailor trained for battle and I believe that tomorrow, I shall go full speed into Newsome.”

He left after about an hour later and I bid him farewell.

I had put out all the downstairs lights and was about to retire when the bell rang again. At first I thought it was Yardley returning for something but when I opened the door, I found two large men standing there, not too dissimilar to the ones Holmes had been ‘abducted’ by at the beginning of this nightmare.

“Dr. Watson,” said the first man, with the thick, red beard and anvil body, “excuse us, we know the hour, but we must speak with you.” They pushed past me and went into the parlour. They knew where to go and this gave me a chill.

“Who are you?” I asked as I restored light to the room.

“That is unimportant right now. But we are from those who sent you and Mr. Holmes on your task. We have a special request to make of you based upon some information we know you’ll find most invaluable.”

“What request? What information?”

“First, the information. Dr. Watson, Sherlock Holmes is not dead.”

I sat there like a fool, not knowing what to say or even what to feel, anymore. My body and mind were as limp as rag dolls and I felt like I was falling into a bottomless void. Would these shocks never end?

“Dr. Watson, did you hear me? Mr. Holmes is alive. We have him.”

“We? Who is ‘we’? Where do you have him?”

“Doctor, as I have said, we are from those that first sent you and Mr. Holmes on your task. We have Mr. Holmes, in protective custody, shall we say?”

“What are you talking about? Why would Holmes be in your protective custody? The whole world thinks he is dead.”

“Ah, yes. And that is precisely the point. But tomorrow morning, the world shall know that you are alive. That you slipped back into England quietly. Every reporter and newspaper in the world will be camping outside your door for a story.”

“But I had nothing to do with Holmes’ death.”

“Of course you didn’t, doctor. But where have you been all this time? Where were you when Holmes was killed? Why were you not with him? What sort of mission were you both engaged upon? These are just some of the questions they will be hurling at you quicker than hand grenades; each one potentially as deadly as the last.”

“I still do not understand. Why do you have Holmes? Why have you let the world think him dead?”

“I’m coming to that, Dr. Watson.” The man had the manners of a jackal. He was too polite and consequently I was left with the feeling that he would bite at any moment; which was precisely what he was about to do. Compared to this creature, I can honestly say I preferred the company of Clay.

“You see, doctor, the world will expect from you a chronicle of Holmes’ last adventure. Everyone will want to know everything about it. The Hun villains: the secrets stolen and retrieved; all the gore. That’s where you come in. We want you to write it.”

“What do you mean, ‘write it’? Write what? You yourself say Holmes is alive. Why should I write such lies?”

“Because, Dr. Watson, if you do not, Mr. Holmes will not be alive for very long.”

“What? You threaten to kill Sherlock Holmes?!”

“Dr. Watson, I can assure you of this: If you do not write what we want of you, Mr. Holmes shall disappear like a coin in the hand of a cheap magician.”

I was trying to think quickly while I could think at all.

“How do I know you are not lying? How do I know Holmes is not already dead as the world suspects and the British government has stated? How do I know if these things are false?”

“You do not, Dr. Watson; you do not. Furthermore, once the reporters descend upon your house tomorrow, you shall also not have the time or wherewithal to continue that little investigation of yours. Yes, we’ve been watching you. We know who you’ve spoken with and we can guess what about.”

“Are you threatening them, too?”

“Dr. Watson, may I remind you that you are talking to representatives of your legally elected government? Would we threaten the lives of such important men as Admiral Richard Yardley and Sir Thomas Preston? Come, now, Dr. Watson, do you think we are monsters like your Mr. Clay?”

He was right; with Clay, you always knew he opposed you. Here, you did not know whom to trust. I thought about what Reilly had said: in his line of work, the criminals were the vanguards of society.

I knew that if these two individuals were sent to me in the middle of the night, their master needed something important of me. They would not dare harm one hair on my head. For the time being at least, I decided to play for time and shook my head.

“You will regret your decision doctor and you will change it before long. If not, I promise that your Mr. Holmes will die an agonizing death.” With that, the two turned tail and left.

I fell into a chair and just sat there trying to puzzle this out in the semi-consciousness of my mind. In just a few hours the reporters would be hammering at our door and my family would be frightened for me all over again. I had no time to lose. Time and lack of timidity were the key.

I went upstairs and woke Elizabeth. I told her not to fear and to get John ready for a quick journey. I told her I was going out and that I would be back as soon as possible. When she begged to know where I was going, I said to sup with the Devil.

July 11, 1919

It was just after midnight when I stepped outside my front door and saw a man whom I knew to be of Clay’s minions. As I had suspected, Clay had my house under observation. I hastened to the man; although, he tried to deny his connection. I explained my urgent circumstance, and he said I should follow him. As we walked, I wondered if were we being followed by those in league with the two blackguards who had so recently left me.

We eventually reached an alleyway some two miles from my home where I was to wait until sent for. Right enough, forty minutes later, a coach stopped in front of me. The door opened and I heard a now-familiar voice say, “Get in, Dr. Watson.”

I obeyed and we were off.

“I did not expect your call this quickly” said Clay.

“Nor did I expect to make the call. But I now know for a certainty that you are one of the few people in England I can trust at this moment.”

A look of incredulity came over Clay’s face.

“I still find our alliance uncomfortable doctor. Yet you appear sincere. Tell me exactly what has happened.”

“Those who are sworn to defend all Englishmen and uphold our laws may be at the bottom of deeds more base than you ever laid at Holmes’ feet. I am watched, my family is threatened by these people, and I now know what I can give you in return for your succour.”

His eyes widened. He still unnerved me, but I knew he would want what I could give; and even the Devil held to his bargains.

“What? What can you give me?”

“Death!” I said.

He grunted. “Death?”

“Yes, and a welcome one at that. Think of how free you shall be if Scotland Yard and the whole of England believe you to be dead. All suspicions of you shall cease. All trails that might have led to you shall now be thought false and the hunt called of. You shall be free, Clay, free to follow your desires without the encumbrance of existence.”

“Exactly how do you plan to achieve this?”

“I shall be shortly called upon by the world to give a final account of the death of Sherlock Holmes. To honour his memory I shall write how he foiled insidious espionage plots stretching all the way to the Caribbean and gave his life in doing so. I shall also write that his last adventure in London before he began the service to his country which claimed his life, had claimed yours. I shall detail how your own men had mutinied against you and drowned you in the Channel, weighing you down so your body would never be found.

“Once you are thought dead, the world shall believe it and be thankful for it,” I thought I saw an expression of remorse in his eyes at those words. “You shall be set free to spread your black wings. But should you be apprehended because of your mistakes or those of your underlings, you shall attach no blame to me or my family. Is that understood?”

“It is, Dr. Watson.” He looked at me, literally from head to toe. “Are you sure you are not Sherlock Holmes in a Dr. Watson disguise? I would have never thought you capable of such subtle brilliance.”

“Nor would I. Now, this is what I need of you...”

The government men who were left to watch my house were ‘relieved’ of their duties by those in the employ of Clay. Then, with John and Elizabeth safely with others of his choosing, on the way to her parents in Yorkshire, the second part of my plan was put into motion.

I was taken by carriage to where Admiral Yardley had been followed by another of Clay’s men and I roused him from his slumber. I begged him put his trust in me and get dressed. In a few moments, we were hurtling through the London night to the home of Sir Randolph Newsome.

As our carriage lurched violently and pitched us, it seemed, contrary to the laws of gravity, I told Yardley about my nocturnal callers, and told him the time had come to force Newsome’s hand.

Before the carriage even came to a complete halt, Yardley was pounding on Newsome’s door. In a few moments, we were let inside.

“Richard. What are you doing here at this hour? Who is this with you?”

“Hurry, Newsome, there isn’t time. Is anyone here with you?” We followed Newsome into his study and he sat at his desk.

“No, not tonight. I’m quite alone. What is this all about, Richard?”

It was at that point that Yardley pulled out a revolver and

placed it tightly against the skull of Randolph Newsome.

“Newsome, you may have cost my son his life. Now sit down. I’m going to count back from ten. And if you haven’t told me everything you know, your brains are going to be all over your stylish, new wallpaper. Ten!”

“I don’t know anything.” He calmly lit a cigarette.

“Nine!”

“You must be mad, Richard; I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” It was as if he was sitting on a block of ice.

“Eight!”

“I know nothing. Are you going to shoot an innocent man?” He blew a smoke ring.

“Seven!”

“Innocent of what?” I interjected.

“Six!”

“Innocent of anything. I was only following orders.”

“Five!”

“What orders?” I asked.

“Just orders: I was doing my duty!” He jammed the cigarette into the ashtray.

“Four!”

“Speak now, man,” said I, “or the admiral will do as he says!”

“Three!”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why was the Salvator sunk and who gave the order to sink her?”

“I don’t know.” I thought I detected a qualm in his voice. “No one gave orders. It just happened.”

“Two!”

“Look, Richard, I know you’re still upset about William’s death, but this is too much.”

“But I’m the one with the gun now! One!”

“All right, all right. I’ll tell you everything. Just put that infernal toy away.” He was more peeved than frightened.

Yardley pulled the revolver directly from touching Newsome’s head, but kept it only one inch away.

“It was Balfour. Balfour gave me the order to have Reilly insure the failure of the rescue attempt.”

“But what about William?” screamed the admiral.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened there.”

Yardley pushed the revolver hard against Newsome’s skull again.

“Listen you piece of wretched filth, I stopped at number one.” He cocked the trigger. “Now I’ll ask you one more time: What about William?”

“It wasn’t just William. It was Holmes and Preston, as well. He wanted them all dead.” He reached for another cigarette.

“Who wanted them all dead? Who?” he screamed.

“I don’t know, but someone had signals sent that led the Germans to believe the ship was a spy ship. They torpedoed it. I had nothing to do with any of it, Richard. You do believe me, don’t you?”

Yardley then stepped a few feet away, but with the pistol still aimed right at Newsome’s forehead, and said, “The only thing I believe is how much I shall enjoy pulling this trigger!”

Then, before I could stop him, he did.

We ran to the waiting carriage as one of Clay’s men asked what happened. I said there was a man dead. He smiled and with the greatest air of nonchalance said, “Don’ worry. The place’ll be clean and the body’ll vanish. It ‘appens awl the time.”

July 12, 1919

It was now about two A.M. By killing Newsome, Yardley had killed our chances of possibly discovering if Holmes was, in fact, still alive, and the other answers we sought; the most important of which was who was really behind all this. But I understood fully his emotions at that moment.

We still had much to do before the morning’s light, based upon what Newsome had told us. But my plan had ended prematurely with his death. I had only wanted the information. Now that we had it, I had no further idea of what to do with it.

The admiral had, however and I concurred completely. We would go to 10 Downing Street. Lloyd George would be told all and he could then move against Balfour immediately. I agreed and when I told the driver our destination, he looked at me with terror in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “The Prime Minister is on our side.”

“I ‘ope so; he sure ain’t on mine!” and he drove on.

We were there no more than twenty minutes later. There were so few motor cars about at this hour that I was thrown back to the days of Queen Victoria; when Holmes and I had been truly young, and he was just beginning his career. I suddenly felt him beside me there in that carriage, as if he was patting me on the back and saying, “That’s it, Watson. Now you have it. We shall prevail yet!”

The admiral spoke with the constable on duty at the door, and the officer went in for a few minutes. When he came out, the admiral motioned me to join him.

We were shown to what I imagined was the same room in which Holmes and Lloyd George had met that fateful, first night, and after a few moments, Lloyd George appeared in a dressing gown. He was not happy about being disturbed at this hour.

“This had better be as extremely urgent as you have claimed, Admiral Yardley; I don’t think you’d like going up and down the Thames on the bridge of a garbage scow.” It was a jest, but the point had been made. “Who is this?”

“Sir, I have the honour to introduce you to none other than Dr. John H. Watson.”

“Eh?” For the briefest measure of time, I thought the Prime Minister looked like a rat that had just had a light shined on him; but this grotesque impression quickly evaporated. He stuck out his hand.

“Dr. Watson, this is one of the very few, singular honours I have had during these past years. I congratulate you, sir, and offer my condolences and apologies at the same time. You have been a true hero.”

I was so embarrassed I knew not what to say, so I simply thanked him and indicated to Yardley that he had better get on with it.

“Prime Minister, I believe you’d better sit down.”

“Sit down? Why should I sit down?

“Well, for starters,” said the admiral, “I’ve just killed Randy Newsome.”

“You have what!?!”

The admiral was being so blithe about the thing, I believe he may have been in a mild state of shock, his actions only now beginning to register. I took up the cudgel.

“Prime Minister, if you will permit me, the admiral and I have just discovered that there was an infamous plot afoot in your very own government: a plot to thwart the wishes of yourself and a certain person of royalty who shall remain nameless. This plot called for the death of a particular family which Holmes prevented, but tangentially led to his death and that of the admiral’s son, William, and Sir Michael Preston on that ship.”

“What are you saying, Dr. Watson? The Germans torpedoed that ship.”

“That is true, sir. But it was a member of your own cabinet that supplied the information to the Germans secretly, and who was behind all the evil I have now recounted. Not only that, but this very night I was visited by thugs claiming to be sent by those who had sent Holmes and me into Russia. They claimed that Holmes was alive, and that if I did not comply with their wishes, Holmes would, this time perish for certain.”

Lloyd George was enraged. He ran around to me and grabbed me by my shoulders.

“Who is this traitor? I shall have him hanged!”

“Sir, it is Arthur Balfour,” said Yardley.

The Prime Minister’s head snapped back as if he were slapped in the face. His hands dropped from me. In a whisper, he said, “What? Balfour?”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” I said, “and if you pray grant us the time now, you shall have all of it.”

He was like a wounded deer, the way he dragged himself back behind his desk and fell into his chair.

“Gentlemen, I cannot believe this. It is too dark and too malevolent. Why should Balfour, of all men, seek to do this? He is no traitor. He was once Prime Minister. He is part of the very fabric of my government. You shall have to be specific and I shall have to fully believe you before I confront such a man.”

For the next hour and a half, the admiral and I recounted the entire story directly up to Newsome’s demise, with only the fewest of questions from The Prime Minister. Then he finally spoke.

“I cannot even begin to digest all you have just told me. There are layers upon layers here. There may be more behind this ‘Black Faction’ of yours, Dr. Watson, or others who are the true masterminds.”

“There is much here to chew over and if you are correct about your theory, there is no slender problem facing me. England has never had a Prime Minister who was a traitor. We have never had a high member in serving government as such. Even if this were true, I am not sure how I would move against Balfour.

“There is more here than even England itself. There is the very fibre binding the Empire, and our commercial ties with the world to consider. I must think about this and shall have to speak with you again when I have decided how to proceed.

“As for Newsome, of course I cannot condone what has happened, but speaking realistically, you have simplified matters by having him vacate his premises, shall we say.

“Even if he were innocent of all you have claimed and I wanted prosecutions, Admiral Yardley, in all honesty, the scandal of what you have this night told me and your subsequent testimony in court would most certainly bring down my government. Under no circumstances will I permit that. I must, then, perforce, become your umbrella and shield you from any downpour.”

He stood, as indication we now were to leave and as we moved towards the door he asked, “You have told no one else about this? You are the only two who know?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good, please let it remain so” said Lloyd George. Then he stopped as he shook my hand one more time and said, “Dr. Watson, when Mr. Holmes and I met on your task, I must say, it was one of the more pleasant duties I had during the entire war. He was so open and honest and willing to serve his King and Country. I shall miss the man greatly.”

As the admiral and I left the office, I thought: was the Prime Minister just trying to reinforce fond memories for me, or was there something very wrong here? It seemed too easy.

I told Yardley my feelings on the matter and although he did not concur, he said it would not be ill to heed any hunch at this phase of the game.

By the time my new chauffeur, Clay’s man, Bendix, had brought the admiral back to his quarters, and me home, it was after five in the morning. I virtually staggered up my stairs, turned the key in the lock, and the instant I stepped in, I knew there was someone inside. I had no weapon, and even if I had, I was so exhausted I would not have been able to use it properly. So I simply went in to the parlour, and before I could even turn on the light, I heard a vaguely familiar voice say, “Finally, you have returned. I have been waiting hours for you, Dr. Watson.”

I turned on the light, and sitting on my sofa was none other than Holmes’ and my smaller nanny, the one who had wished us well when he deposited us at Harwich.

“You! What are you doing here?”

“Forgive me, doctor, but there are those of my colleagues who would not take kindly to my presence here. They might be made quite angry.”

“I am sorry, but I have not the glimmer of an idea of what you are saying. Just who are you?” And what do you want of me at this hour?”

“Dr. Watson, I am the man who visited your wife and sent her that note.”

“You?” I sat in my arm chair.

“Yes, me.”

“But why? Why should you do such kindness to my family?” “Because you and Mr. Holmes had done such kindness for mine.”

“I do not understand., we had not met before the trip to Harwich.”

“That is true enough. But you and Mr. Holmes did my family a good turn. And I vowed to repay that favour if ever I could.”

“But who are you?” How did we help?”

“Eight years ago, you and Mr. Holmes came upon circumstances so distressing and strange that you chose to keep the incident silent rather than throw it open to the throng. Do you remember the identical twin sisters in Wales, the young, English ladies named Lauren and Lisa Larkin?”

I thought hard and then remembered.

“Oh, yes, the twins who had been impregnated by the same man.”

“Right you are, Dr. Watson. This fellow then trumpeted his victories to the baser characters of the town. The twins, pushed over the edge by the scandal and grief of finding out what he had done to them both, executed him. You were going to call the case, ‘Twin Black Widows’, but you let the matter drop. Do you remember why?”

“Let me see now, I have been through much since that time; oh, yes, the girls’ mother begged Holmes to permit her to have them committed to St. Eustace Hospital for the Insane, rather than have them put on trial.

“There was the mental condition of the twins to consider and then the problem of the babies they were carrying. I remember the mother pleading that the family’s lot had been ill enough. The father had been with Kitchener at Omdurman, and had been killed. There was a brother who had vanished, and now this tragedy.”

“Right, again. The elderly woman was so moving in her tears that Mr. Holmes went against all his own rules and let the woman have her way because the girls would be, and were, committed. You saw to that yourself.”

“But what have you to do with them?”

“I am the vanished brother.”

“You? But where have you been? How came you to be so intricately involved with the unsavoury business of what happened to Holmes and me?”

“I almost don’t even know where to begin, Dr. Watson.”

“Try the beginning.”

“Very well. You see, in a way, I don’t even exist. The man who accompanied me that night to fetch Mr. Holmes, he doesn’t exist either.”

“My good man, I have not the faintest idea of what you mean. You do not exist; you are alive and you are talking to me.”

“In that sense, correct. But to the government, or certain parts of the government, I do not. They ensure I do not. In other words, there is absolutely no record of my life. I am a non-person. I never existed.

“Yes, I told you who I really am, but should anything ever go awry where I am concerned, any investigative body, such as the local constabularies or the press, or another government, would find no trace of me anywhere. My identity changes from day to day, or week to week, depending on where I am and what task it is I must perform.”

“And you say the government permits this?”

“You still don’t comprehend fully, do you, Dr. Watson?”

“I suppose I do not.”

“Dr. Watson, it is the government that has created me or rather, uncreated me. It is they, or a particular branch, I should say, that employs me in this manner. I do things which most people would not. I go places where most people would not. I see things most people will never have to see.”

“You mean you are a spy?”

“No, doctor, not really; it’s difficult to explain. You know what a task force is, I presume?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then consider me a task force. I, and others like me, get specific and extremely delicate tasks to perform. We perform them and go on to the next task.”

“All right, I think I understand now. In essence, then, you are also saying that you are above the law; am I correct?”

“You are, doctor; because how can the law extract retribution from one who doesn’t exist?”

“I see. But what have you to do with what happened in Russia?”

“Nothing, really, Dr. Watson. My only involvement came at the beginning when my associate and I escorted Mr. Holmes to the Prime Minister, and then you and Mr. Holmes to Harwich. That’s when I wished you good luck, if you remember.”

“I do. In fact, Holmes and I remarked on your good wishes, coming as they did from one who seemed not overly friendly, shall we say.”

He laughed, a little. “Well, I was with the other man, you see. But when I was free of his presence, I was able to express my personal sentiments.”

“If all this be true, then you are the only one, it seems, who is willing, and able, to tell the truth behind all that has happened. Do this, and I shall forever be in your debt.”

“No, Dr. Watson, I’m repaying a debt to you and Mr. Holmes with my information. The slate will then be clean. And as far as you will be concerned, I shan’t exist, either. Now perhaps you should have a stiff brandy. In fact, I wouldn’t mind one myself, if it’s at all possible.”

I brought us both large brandies, and left the decanter between us. After a few large sips, ‘Mr. Smith’ began.

“Take a sip, Dr. Watson. For what I have to tell you, you may not believe. You may call me liar, scoundrel, or worse. But as God is

my witness, and on the souls of my dear sisters and mother you have already saved, every word I will speak is truth.”

“Then, tell me quickly,” I said, “we know it was Lloyd George trying to help us. But who was it trying to kill us?”

‘Mr. Smith’ took another large sip, and while looking into the glass he answered: “Lloyd George.”