Sherlock Holmes and the Golden Bird

7

The Hatchet Men

63

We had little trouble hailing a carriage and I was surprised when Holmes did not direct the vehicle to our hotel but rather to the Alexanderplatz.

"We are under surveillance, my dear Watson," said Holmes, by way of explanation. "Our movements should not be so obvious that the two Chinese gentlemen become bored. Therefore, some official assistance will prove advantageous."

In previous cases, I had been made conscious of the efficient workings of the machinelike Berlin police department with its brain core of the Meldwesen located in Alexanderplatz. Holmes maintained a friendly association with Wolfgang Von Shalloway, the chief of the German police, and I deduced that he intended to involve his friend in our proposed trip to Constantinople. I was right.

Progressing through busy streets, the detective explained that the Orientals, having lost us, would doubtless return to the Bristol Kempinsky to pick up our trail when we returned. What surprises he had in mind for the Chinese, he did not go into.

A presentation of the simple card with the name of Sherlock Holmes transformed a stiff, formal sergeant of police into a somewhat flustered and excited servant of the people.

"Herr Holmes . . . but, of course, sir. Would you kindly be seated. Hein! Hein!" he almost shouted to a passing policeman.

Crossing, he whispered to the surprised man, fiercely and with effect since the policeman hastened from the main reception room towards the lift.

Somewhat recovered, the sergeant resumed his post behind his desk. "It will be but a moment, Herr Holmes," he explained, with rare deference. The great detective nodded calmly and, turning to me, the sergeant said, with a stiff smile, "Doctor Vatson, I presume?"

Never having received attention like this at Scotland Yard, it crossed my mind that Holmes and I should travel abroad more often. But the sergeant, whose name proved to be Dienstag, was not finished. Obviously, he felt that a heaven-sent opportunity for criminal research had presented itself and was loath to let the great moment slip away.

"Doctor Vatson," he continued, "in your masterly account of the case of 'The Speckled Band' . . ."

"Another of those overly melodramatic titles," interjected Holmes with disdain.

"Der speckled band vas from India und a swamp adder. But der is no svamp adders in India, vich has puzzled me greatly, Herr Doctor."

Since Sergeant Dienstag was, to my delight, directing his question in my direction, I hastened to clear the matter up. "Your confusion is understandable, Sergeant. However, when I first made that adventure available to the reading public . . ."

Alas, my explanation could not be completed since Wolfgang Von Shalloway appeared and advanced upon Holmes with his hands outstretched.

"Ach, Holmes! And Doctor Watson? Such a happy surprise. Come . . . come, my office is yours."

Murmuring greetings, we were escorted to the lift with much pomp and Sergeant Dienstag remained confused since more important matters had to be dealt with.*

* The loathsome serpent in The Adventure of the Speckled Band was, by most herpetologists' judgment, the Russell's viper.

In but a short time we were in the office of the chief of the Berlin police. Von Shalloway shooed out members of his staff and ordered a cessation of all other business during the visit of his illustrious friend.

Holmes protested that he did not wish to intrude on official matters but Von Shalloway waved his objections aside. I did not take my friend's disclaimers at face value and was quite certain that the sleuth was secretly delighted at the furor that his appearance had caused. Now Von Shalloway exhibited the sagacity that had made him one of the most famous man-hunters in the world.

"To see you out of your beloved London, Holmes— that is rare indeed. So something has taken the British lion from his lair and it could only be a case."

"We are involved in a trifling matter," admitted Baker Street's most famous resident. "A theft which did not occur within the borders of Germany. In connection with the matter, I had reasons for coming here to Berlin and, in the process, seem to have acquired some unwelcome company."

Von Shalloway regarded him blankly and then his large head shifted to me. "Surely, not the good Doctor Watson?" he said, attempting a joke.

"We are being shadowed by a couple of Chinamen," I said instinctively and, perhaps, defensively, then wondered if I had said too much.

"You are now leaving Berlin?" questioned the police chief. When Holmes nodded, Von Shalloway smiled, like a Cheshire cat. "Well, we shall arrange for some difficulties with these Orientals' passports."

"No! No!" protested Holmes. "Actually, we have no proof about the two Chinamen. However, they do know we are staying at the Bristol Kempinsky. Doctor Watson and I wish to proceed with all possible speed to Constantinople and, as a precaution, would prefer to leave the Chinese in the dark as to our plans and destination."

"Ah, Holmes, it is so simple. You give me no problem whatsoever. I will have some of my men remove your baggage from the hotel. The Chinamen will be awaiting you and Watson and will be sadly disappointed. Now, let us consider your fastest route to Turkey."

Von Shalloway took railway schedules from his desk and, with them in hand, consulted a large-scale wall map.

"Fortunately, there is a fast train to Stuttgart which leaves in an hour. There, you can board the Orient Express. Sometimes, the Stuttgart Special is a little late but I shall make sure that the Express does not leave until you are aboard. Now let us see—we can get you to the Friedrichstrasse Station . . . No. Let us put you on the Special at the Zoological Gardens."

Holmes, whose knowledge of trains was positively uncanny, interrupted his friend's precise planning.

"The Stuttgart train does not stop at the Zoological Gardens station."

"It will this trip," said Von Shalloway, significantly. "But a moment, my friends," he added, crossing to the door of his well-appointed office. Opening it, he barked some staccato orders, which I could not decipher at all.

"Wolfie believes in quick action," said Holmes, laconically. "Our luggage will be retrieved from the Bristol Kempinsky in short order. This is being carried off in such a grand manner that I begin to feel like the King of Bohemia incognito."

"And enjoying it to the hilt," I muttered, drily.

"What was that?" said Holmes, sharply.

"Don't deny the good man his delight in exhibiting German efficiency. You have made him most happy."

While Holmes was considering this thought, Von Shalloway's short legs returned him to the wall map. "The Orient Express is by far your most rapid connection, gentlemen. But let us see. There are two possible routes available. One section runs to Friedrichshafen, crosses Austria and, with stops at Zagreb, Belgrade, Nis, then Sofia, Bulgaria and then into Constantinople. The other route goes to Vienna and on to Constanza, Romania where a boat train takes you to Constantinople. You have a choice."

It crossed my mind that the Orient Express had become most prestigious since its first trip from Paris to Vienna in 1883.

"By all means, let us go by land," I said, firmly, remembering our stormy channel-crossing to Calais with regrets.

"It is the fastest route," admitted the German policeman. Since Holmes made no comment, Von Shalloway continued. "So it shall be. Your tickets will be available at the stations."

Holmes was extracting his billfold, a gesture which provoked an expression of horror on Von Shalloway's face.

"Old friend, surely you would not insult me. Your hotel accommodations and transportation comes courtesy of the German government as a mere gesture of services past rendered." Sensing that Holmes would protest further, Von Shalloway overrode him. "From long experience we both know that sometimes crime does pay. Those of us dedicated to curtail it must stick together, nicht war?" A sly smile crept across his face. "Besides, I have not forgotten that Bessinger affair. You showed me a few tricks there.* * Refer to The Secret Files of Sherlock Holmes

Holmes had said we wished to proceed to Constantinople with all possible speed and Von Shalloway had taken him at his word. With hurried farewells, we were ushered downstairs and into the private carriage of the police chief which whisked us to the Zoological Gardens Station. Our luggage was on the platform along with two of Von Shalloway's taciturn mechanical men who made themselves known to Holmes, handed him our tickets, arid saw that we had a compartment to ourselves when the Stuttgart Special came to a brief stop. As soon as we were aboard, the train puffed into motion after its unscheduled stop. High, dirty red chimneys ambled past the windows to be replaced soon by great houses and gay gardens as we departed from greater Berlin.

As we passed through Luckenwald, Holmes and I felt in need of sustenance and made our way to the dining car, where I did quite well with the menu, washing the rich food down with most excellent German beer. Evidently, our travels plus a substantial meal made sleep easy for Holmes informed me that we were beyond Wurzburg when I awakened in our compartment, slightly fuzzy-headed. The situation was agreeable to me since our journey through Anhalt and into Hesse provided no sights that I wished to view.

Things did get more interesting at this point since the Special progressed westerly to stop at Heidelberg. Though darkness was falling, I was able to view the beautiful approach of the "Jewel of the Nekar" and caught a glimpse of the spectacular fourteenth-century castle on the hill of this famous university city. From there, it was but a short run to Stuttgart, where again we were met by emissaries of the German police and escorted aboard the famed Orient Express.

I noted, when we were comfortably ensconced in a lavish compartment, that the attendant on our car was observant of our every wish. I later learned that this most posh of European trains had been delayed for fifteen minutes in its departure from Stuttgart to await our arrival. The French attendant, must have thought we were Krupp munitions tycoons or possibly members of the Hohenzollern family!

Neither Holmes nor myself felt hungry and I made haste to take advantage of our most comfortable berths.

The rattle and click of the rails, the gentle sway of the great train as it hurtled through the night, made sleep easy. I remember thinking that sharing the adventures of the supreme sleuth did lead to hectic situations, precipitous departures, and a series of events far removed from the normal existence of a general practitioner. However, apart from the matchless experiences, there was certainly the advantage of traveling in style when travel we did. And it all began with those famous words: "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive." That was my last thought before the coming of day.

It was Holmes who awakened me the following morning and, my mind clouded with sleep, I was not conscious of the fact that his expression was grave.

"Where are we?" I mumbled.

"Zagreb," he stated. "We have company again."

Struggling upright in my berth, I gazed at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. "Not the Chinese?"

Holmes nodded. "I took a brief walk along the station platform when we arrived and spied them in the dining car."

"But how could they have followed us from Berlin?"

"They couldn't. I can only assume that they anticipated my next move—a visit to the art dealer, Hassim, in Constantinople. No other explanation is possible."

"What are we to do?"

"Act as though nothing has happened. Get into your things, ol' fellow, and we shall breakfast. If our Oriental friends are still in the dining car, so much the better.

As I struggled into my clothes with all possible speed, Holmes had a cautionary thought. "For all they know, we never saw them in Berlin or even suspect that they are on our heels. Therefore, don't stare at them as though they were international spies. Just ignore them completely and allow me to take care of the surreptitious observation."

On occasion, Holmes could be infuriatingly patronizing and I implied as much with a swift rejoinder.

"Really, Holmes, we have been through situations like this before. You infer that I am a rank beginner in matters of this sort."

His eyes softened in his disarming manner and a smile with a touch of sentiment curved his thin lips. "Perish the thought, my good fellow. Just remember that subtlety has never been one of your strongest points."

Thoroughly silenced, I followed Holmes from our compartment.

In the dining car, I deliberately avoided looking at any fellow passengers. My friend made casual small talk and selected a table that afforded him a view of the Orientals, whom I had spotted on our arrival. I ordered rather mechanically and applied myself to the passing countryside. We were well out of Zagreb and passing through the mountainous terrain of northern Serbia with frequent breathtaking views as the great train roared in a southeasterly path. My answers to Holmes's casual conversation were monosyllabic until I realized that some sham on my part might serve the purpose of allowing his eyes to stray to good purpose. Somehow I began to recount a cricket match and I'm sure my description made little sense, but then no one was listening to our conversation anyway.

Midway through our meal, I was conscious of two men passing our table. Their figures were briefly reflected in the window at my side and I realized it was the Chinese. No doubt my eyes widened for my friend's voice came to my rescue before I made some foolish reaction.

"Gently, gently, ol' chap. They are almost gone and we can dispense with deception, so onerous to you. But do have a quick glance as they leave the car. Our expedition has not been fruitless."

I looked in the direction of the departing men with what I hoped was a casual air. Even to my eyes, not noted for acute observation, an incongruous situation was evident.

"Why, they are each carrying what looks like small attaché cases. Whatever for?"

"Tradition, among other things." Holmes's words were delivered in a casual manner, but his next revelation had a jarring effect. "I have tended to consider our shadows almost in a humorous vein. I may well have underestimated the situation. Those cases they carry are never out of their reach, if they can help it. To one with training in criminology they pinpoint our secretive escorts as hatchet men."

My jaw must have dropped and Holmes continued with a merry smile to calm me. "A hatchet man is a most respected professional in the Oriental world. An efficient killer usually representing a Tong or faction. In our mechanical age, their methods may seem antiquated but let me assure you that their traditional weapon, plus their skill at throwing it, rivals the effectiveness of a soft-nosed bullet at fairly close range."

When we returned to our compartment, I made haste to open my valise and extract the Eley .320, which I had chosen to take on this trip because of its convenient size. I vowed to have it on my person till this confounded case was resolved.

Our quarters had been serviced by the train attendant but Holmes assured me that our luggage had not been touched. He made a habit of leaving little tell-tale signs that would alert him if hands other than ours had been tampering with our belongings.

Under different conditions I would have enjoyed our trip down the eastern length of Serbia, but the specter of two Chinese assassins lurking on the train had a depressing effect. Between glances at the door to our compartment, I tried to lose myself in the passing scenery, to little avail. Conversation with Holmes was nonproductive simply because he had no clear idea of what he might learn in Constantinople and I was already privy to as much information regarding our quest for the Golden Bird as he was.

We were across the Danube and in Belgrade before noon. Holmes and I decided to remain in our compartment so the only glimpse I got of the ancient city was the marriage of narrow Turkish streets and nineteenth-century palaces with a heavy larding of Byzantine architecture as we arrived and departed.

As the Express ran down the hundred miles or so between Belgrade and Nis, Holmes was either deep in thought or asleep. I could not determine which. It crossed my mind that to the west on the Adriatic was Montenegro, certainly a familiar area to my friend. I had always entertained the thought that during his absence from London, following the Reichenbach Falls episode and the end of Moriarty, that he had spent some time in this district; but I had never been able to entice the information from him and now certainly was not an appropriate tune. Instead, I grimly clutched the butt of the Eley in my pocket and determined to guard the bastions should Holmes, indeed, be in the arms of Morpheus.

But, alas, it was I that courted sleep and when my head jerked erect found Holmes regarding me humorously.

"No danger, old friend. We are approaching Nis and are on the final leg of our journey. We might stretch our legs a bit. It has been a long trip."

Feeling cramped I fell in with Holmes's suggestion readily. However, I was never to visit the station of this Serbian city. Holmes prudently awaited the halt of the train and surveyed the platform before making a move to alight. As a result, we did not move at all, for his keen eyes noted something and he drew back from the window of our compartment quickly.

"Now that is odd," he said. "The two Chinese gentlemen have alighted from the train with their luggage. Stay away from the window, Watson. I have a good angle on them and I doubt if they can see me."

"What in heaven's name are they doing?"

"Merely collecting their luggage. Ah, they have placed it in the hands of a porter. The porter is carrying their possessions into the station, but they seem more interested in observing their fellow passengers."

"You mean they are just watching the train?"

"Unobtrusively, but that's what it amounts to. It would seem that they expect us to alight."

When the Orient Express pulled out of Nis, our Orientals were still on the platform. Holmes had some words with our attendant, whom he addressed in his impeccable French. Shortly thereafter, he learned that the Chinese gentlemen were only ticketed as far as Nis.

Holmes was as puzzled as I was. "It makes a hash of my theory, Watson."

"How so?"

"The Chinese were set upon our trail to find out what we were up to. There can be no doubt about that. However, I felt that they anticipated our going to Constantinople, hence their presence on this train. Now it would seem that they expected us to get off at Nis. What possible interest could we have in this city in lower Bosnia? Well, Watson, when something proves completely baffling, 'tis best to dismiss it till additional information presents itself.