Sherlock Holmes: The Army of Doctor Moreau

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The brute leaned forward, those monstrous hands extended as he jangled the handcuffs that hung from them. His tale was done, his point made.

Holmes merely watched for a moment and then laughed.

“You are a confident fellow, Kane,” he said, “and I’ll warrant that your extraordinary life so far would have broken a lesser spirit. Still, I will tell you this: you ask what concern it is of mine that you pursue your criminal career. You talk of London’s greatest consulting detective?” The apparent lightness of tone faded from Holmes’ voice to be replaced by a steel that was as sharp and potent as a sabre-blade. “I am the foremost consulting detective in the country, Kane, no doubt the world, and your criminal activities are every bit my concern. Furthermore, the moment I wish them to end I could ensure it happened as quickly as that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis. “You bet with an empty hand,” he continued, “and your pitiful attempts to intimidate me impress me not one jot. If you know a scintilla of useful information about your creator then you have yet to prove as much, certainly you will have to work hard to convince me that what you know is worth my turning a blind eye to so much as a day’s worth of your petty little enterprises.” He sat back in his chair and took a long puff on his pipe. “You will have to work much harder than this to preserve your scarred neck,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the sensitive nose of our prisoner. “We have you captured and entirely at our mercy. If you wish to survive the encounter I suggest you begin to talk of something more useful than your own pathetic history.”

Kane roared and jumped to his feet, the chair he was sat on tumbling behind him. He pulled at his handcuffs but they held firm, not that his greatest strength lay at the end of his wrists. He snarled and those teeth of his dripped with malice.

There was a soft click as Holmes cocked the revolver he had just removed from his dressing gown pocket. With a raised eyebrow he uttered one world only, a word designed to enrage our captive even further: “Sit!”

Kane had little choice but to do so, though he howled at the indignity of it.

“That’s better,” Holmes replied. “As powerful as you no doubt are, a bullet through the skull would bring you to heel.”

I began to realise quite how much he was enjoying this. I hoped it didn’t see him get his throat torn out.

Kane growled and then began to speak further:

“I have said that I have not sought the death of others and that the blood on my hands is meagre.” He looked at Holmes, cocking his head on one side in that peculiar way that dogs have when they are particularly drawn by something. “That may soon change. I have no doubt that to have your head in my jaws would be a pleasurable thing indeed.”

“Well, metaphorically at least, I certainly have yours in mine,” said Holmes, “so let us get to business before either of us sees fit to bite.”

“Father has not just been working as a surgeon,” Kane continued. “He has been hard at work in the field of chemistry too. He has been attempting to create a serum that can change the flesh without a need for the scalpel.”

“Change the flesh how?” I asked, though I could imagine the answer after what Mycroft had told us.

“He wishes to accelerate the process of evolution. The example he gave—and I am only too aware of how fanciful it sounds—was of a man falling from a great height. What use is evolution then? If it could respond immediately to the body’s surroundings then it could be the very thing that saves his life! He could sprout wings!”

I laughed, the idea certainly did sound fanciful. The subtle changes Mycroft had suggested, such as an ability to last longer than natural without water, or an increased tolerance to the cold, had sounded absurd enough. But this—the spontaneous growth of new appendages? What next, would a man on a windy day suddenly develop iron feet? Or a drowning man, gills?

“Yes,” said Kane, “that was my response too. Then I looked in a mirror and, try as I might, I could no longer find the same confidence in my opinions.”

Holmes thought about this for a moment then spoke: “The fact that he is experimenting in this field means nothing,” he said. “We knew as much already, the question is rather: is he making any progress?” He looked intently at Kane, as if trying to determine whether he could trust him. How he could hope to tell was utterly beyond me—what could one look to in that animal’s face to serve as a sign of veracity?

“I think you will soon know the answer to that,” Kane said. “It will not be long before my father acts, but can you afford to wait until then?”

“The bodies,” said Holmes. “Can I presume they were the victims of these creatures you described? The monstrous hybrids he keeps as guard dogs to his lair?”

Kane appeared to shrug, and somehow this small, human gesture seemed the most absurd thing he had done thus far, to see something so recognisable come from something so inhuman. “Every now and then people would wander into his lair, and he would have me dispose of the bodies elsewhere. Now that I am not there to do his dirty work no doubt they simply wash up where they are wont to.”

Holmes sat in silence for another couple of moments then got to his feet. He handed the gun to me and walked over to Kane.

“Needless to say, you should shoot our visitor the moment he looks like wishing to do either of us damage,” he said. “I will ensure that you have a clear shot.”

I was distinctly unhappy about the idea of letting Kane go free but I was also sufficiently intimidated by him that I decided it was better to show a united front and keep my concerns to myself. Holmes would do whatever he wished and all that would be achieved by us arguing over it would be a distraction that the vicious creature may take advantage of.

Holmes unfastened the handcuffs and stood well back. He gestured to the door.

“Go,” he said, “but know that our arrangement is not carved in stone. I have preparations to make before I follow you to the lair of your creator. If you prove to be a valuable guide then it will go some way towards the freedom I allow you to operate under in Rotherhithe.” He pointed at Kane. “But know this—don’t think you are immune from my attentions. If I consider that you step outside the incestuous world of gang violence and become a threat to the innocent then I will find you and put an end to you. Is that understood?”

Kane inclined his head and I tried to decide if his exposed teeth represented a threat or a sign of humour. Perhaps it was both. “It is understood that you will try,” he said. “How long do you need to prepare?”

“Return here this evening at nine o’clock, I will be accompanied by a small party.”

“Police?” Kane asked. An unmistakable growl to his words.

“No,” Holmes replied, “private citizens, but ones whom you can rely upon to offer a degree of strength against the creatures we might find down there.”

Kane nodded and once again that half-smile, half-snarl was visible on his face. “They’ll need it,” he said, and bounded down the stairs and out of our rooms.