Moriarty

22 A Fresh Start

I took out my own gun. Jones looked at me and I think I saw shock, dismay and finally resignation pass through his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and shot him in the head.

He was killed instantly, his body falling sideways as his walking stick tumbled to the ground one last time, rattling against the paving stones. Everything had to happen very quickly for I knew that there were many Scotland Yard men nearby. I climbed down from the curricle and walked the few steps to the Black Maria which had stopped in the middle of the road. Both the driver and his companion were dead. The constable who had been positioned at the rear was still clinging onto the door as if it was his duty to keep it shut. I shot him in the back and watched him crumple. At the same moment, Colonel Moran fired a third time and the policeman standing next to Perry spun round and fell. I saw Perry scowl. It was one less person for him to kill.

I climbed onto the Black Maria, pushing one of the dead men out of the way. I was vaguely aware of pedestrians pointing and screaming but of course none of them approached. They would have been mad to try and I had counted on their fear and panic to give me time to make my escape. Perry hurried over, wiping his knife on a rag, and climbed up next to me.

‘Can I drive?’ he asked.

‘Later,’ I said.

I whipped on the horses. They had already calmed down—but then the police would have trained them to make their way through noisy protests and hostile crowds. With Perry beside me, I directed them a few yards up Victoria Street, then pulled on the reins to force them into a tight turn. This was another mistake that Athelney Jones had made. He had deployed his men along the route that would take us to Scotland Yard, but I had no intention of going that way. As we completed the turn, Colonel Moran appeared in a doorway, his face flushed, the Von Herder airgun already returned to the golfing bag that he carried over his shoulder. He climbed onto the back of the Black Maria, as we had agreed.

Another crack of the whip and we were hurtling past Victoria Station and down towards Chelsea. There were more crowds at this end of the street and they were aware that something had happened but could not tell what it was. Nobody tried to stand in our way. We rattled over a pothole and I heard Moran swear. Part of me wondered if he would still be there when we reached our destination and I have to say it rather amused me to think of him being hurled off in one of the suburbs. At the same time, I wondered what our passenger must be thinking. He would have heard the shots. He would have felt the carriage turn. It was quite likely that he had guessed what had occurred but the doors were locked and there would be nothing he could do.

We passed through Chelsea and into Fulham—or West Kensington as its residents insisted it be called. When we reached the hospital, I handed the reins to Perry who guided the horses with a happy smile on his face. We were proceeding more slowly now. It would be hours before the gaggle of inspectors at Scotland Yard could mount anything that resembled a search and there was no point drawing attention to ourselves. I called out to Colonel Moran and received a grunt by way of reply. It seemed he was still hanging on.

It took us the best part of an hour to reach Richmond Park, entering through Bishop’s Gate which I had chosen as it was not actually intended for public use. I wanted an open space and the park seemed ideal for what I had in mind. We drove into the largest field we could find with views all around us, the river concealed by the rise of the hill but the village clearly visible and the city far beyond. It was a glorious day, the spring sun finally shining and only a few puffs of cloud floating above the horizon. At last we stopped. Colonel Moran climbed down and walked round to the horses, at the same time stretching his arms.

‘Did you have to go so damned far?’ he demanded.

Ignoring him, I went to the back and opened the door. Clarence Devereux knew what his fate was to be. Even as the glare of the sunlight burst into the interior, he huddled away, hiding in a corner, covering his eyes. I did not speak to him. I climbed inside and dragged him out. I was certain that he carried no weapon and once he was in the open, he would be helpless, no better than a fish on dry land. Finally, I signalled to Perry who led the horses over to a clump of trees where a second carriage stood waiting. I had, of course, concealed it there earlier. It would now be his task to unhitch the horses and then to reconnect them. We had a long journey ahead of us, all the way to the south coast.

I stood there with my enemy grovelling on his knees. I knew that he could feel the breeze upon his cheeks. He could hear birdsong and understood well enough where he was even if he didn’t open his eyes. I still had the gun that I had used to kill Athelney Jones. Perry, too, was armed. There was little chance that we would be disturbed by strollers for the park was huge—two thousand three hundred and sixty acres, to be precise—and I had deliberately chosen an area that was remote. Nor did I intend to be here long.

Moran stood beside me, examining our prisoner with his usual blend of cruelty and contempt. With his bald forehead and huge moustache he did rather unfortunately resemble a villain out of a pantomime, but he was quite unaware of his appearance or perhaps indifferent to it. It struck me that although he had not been a pleasant man when we first met, he was getting worse, more irascible, as he grew older.

‘So what now, Professor?’ he asked. ‘I imagine you must be quite pleased with yourself.’

‘It all worked out very much as I expected,’ I admitted. ‘There was a moment when, despite everything, I thought the minister was not going to give his secretary over to us. Why do these people have to be so officious? Fortunately, the late Inspector Jones was able to circumvent this with one last display of genius. I will be forever grateful to him.’

‘I take it… this nasty little man… you’re going to kill him?’

‘Of course not! Do you really believe I would have gone to such extremes had that been my intention? I need him very much alive. I have always needed him alive. Otherwise my task would have been a great deal easier.’

‘Why?’

‘It will be some years before I can operate again in England, Colonel. First, I have to rebuild my organisation and that will take time. But even when that is done, I have a problem…’

‘Sherlock Holmes?’

‘No. He seems to have left the stage. But as surprised as I am to admit it, I must learn to beware of the police.’

‘They know who you are.’

‘Precisely. It won’t take them very long to work out what happened—even Lestrade might be able to bring the pieces together. And they’ve all seen me.’

‘You’ve sat amongst ’em and they’ve seen your face. You’ve killed one of their own. They’ll search for you, high and low.’

‘Which is why I must leave the country. The Vandalia leaves the port of Le Havre for New York in three days’ time. Perry and I will be on board and Mr Devereux will come with us.’

‘And then?’

I looked down at Devereux. ‘Open your eyes,’ I said.

‘No!’ He was a criminal mastermind, the greatest evil to have emerged from America. He had almost destroyed me. But at that moment he sounded like a child. His hands were pressed against his face and he was rocking back and forth, moaning to himself.

‘Open your eyes,’ I repeated. ‘If you wish to live, you will do it now.’ Very slowly, Devereux did as I said but he remained still, staring at the grass, too afraid to lift his head. ‘Look at me!’

It took him a huge effort but he obeyed and it occurred to me that he would continue obeying me for what remained of his life. He was crying. The tears were streaming from both his eyes and his nose. His skin was completely white. I had read certain papers about agoraphobia, a condition that had only been recognised quite recently, but I was fascinated to see its effect at such close quarters. Had I handed Devereux my revolver, I am not sure he would have been able to use it. He was paralysed with fear. At the same time, Perry reappeared from behind the trees, dragging with him a large steamer trunk. It was in this that Devereux would be making his journey.

‘Is he going in?’ he asked.

‘Not yet, Perry.’ I turned to Devereux. ‘Why did you have to come here?’ I asked him. ‘You had wealth and success in America. The forces of law, both public and private, were unable to reach you. You had your world and I mine. What made you think that by bringing them into collision you would cause anything but harm?’ Devereux tried to speak but could no longer formulate the words. ‘And what has been the result? So much bloodshed, so much pain. You have caused the deaths of my closest friends.’ I was thinking of Jonathan Pilgrim but also of Athelney Jones. ‘Worst of all, you have forced me to descend to your level, using methods which frankly I found distasteful. That is why I feel nothing but hatred for you and why one day you must die. But not today.’

‘What do you want?’

‘You wished to take over my organisation. Now I will take over yours. You leave me with no choice for, thanks to you, I am finished here. I therefore need to know the names of all your associates in America, all the people you have worked with, the street criminals and their masters. You will tell me everything you know about the crooked politicians, the lawyers, the judges, the press, the police—and about the Pinkertons too. England is a closed door for me for the time being but America is most certainly not. The new world! That is where I intend to re-establish myself. We have many days of travel ahead of us. By the end of it, you will have given me all the information I need.’

‘You are a devil!’

‘No. I am a criminal. The two are not at all the same… or so I thought, until I met you.’

‘Now?’ Perry asked.

I nodded. ‘Yes, Perry, I am already sick of the sight of him.’

Perry fell on Devereux with glee, binding and gagging him, then bundling him into the steamer trunk and closing the lid. Meanwhile, I spoke again with Moran.

‘I trust that you will come with us, Colonel,’ I said. ‘I am aware that you do not hold the country that is our destination in particularly high regard, but even so I will have need of your services.’

‘Will you pay?’

‘Of course.’

‘My fees will be doubled, if I’m to work abroad.’

‘They will be good value even at that price.’

Moran nodded. ‘I’ll join you in a month or two. Before that, I’m slipping out to India, to the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans. I’ve heard there are plenty of tigers at this time of the year. You’ll leave a message for me in the usual place? Once I’m back, I’ll wait to hear from you.’

‘Excellent.’

We shook hands. Then the three of us lifted the steamer trunk, now well secured, and placed it in the carriage. Finally, Perry and I climbed up together and, with the boy holding the reins, we set off down the hillside, heading for the River Thames. The sun was shining. I could smell the meadows all around and at that moment I was not thinking of crime, nor of the many triumphs that surely awaited me in America. No. For some unfathomable reason, my attention had turned to something quite different. I was considering the different solutions applicable to the Korteweg de Vries equation, a mathematical model I had long been intending to examine but for which I’d never had the time.

We bumped over the grass and came to a track. Perry was sitting happily beside me. Our guest, in his trunk, was in the back. And there was the river; a crystalline twist of blue in the soft green fields. With the different variables—x, t and ø—spinning in my head, I made my way down towards it.