PINNACLE BOOKS NEW YORK (22 page)

"Grab
'round my neck, Doctor, and hold on for
dear
life."

How
he got me up to where I could obey his order
I'll
never know. There were repeated crashes at the
door
to our rear and suddenly there was a rending
sound
and a section of the wall including the
window
and bars gave way to the power of the tug's
engines.
We were in the open air with stone and the
dry
dust of masonry around us and plunging
toward
the water below. All I could do was cling to
Orloff,
who in turn kept his grip on the bars, which
were
attached to the hawser. We hit the water but
were
not allowed to sink, for the tug, released from
the
anchor that had held it, was racing from the shoreline at high speed
and dragging us behind it. Suddenly the ship's engines were cut and a
stubby
man with a mahogany face appeared
at the stern of
the craft and began
hauling us toward it. There was
the
crash of an explosion and then another one and
I
made haste to swim toward the tug, sensing that
the
ruffians had broken down the cell door and
were
firing on us. When Orloff and the short man
helped
me aboard, I saw Holmes standing by the
wheelhouse
with a long-barreled revolver, firing methodically toward the shore.
Coughing up river water, I cast a glance toward our rear. Fully a
third
of the wall of an aged blockhouse
was torn asunder.
As I watched, a face
appeared in the aperture and
ducked
promptly as Holmes' revolver barked and
there
was a spurt of dust and the whine of a
ricocheting
bullet.

He's
got them pinned down
, I thought.
Orloff and
I
have escaped, and Holmes is alive and well. Merry
old
England will survive.

Chapter
11

Back
to Baker Street

IT
WAS several hours later that I lay luxuriating in
a
steaming hot bath. Holmes had secured fresh shirts and undergarments
from the local haber
dasher, and the
innkeeper's wife was ironing my sodden suit. The river tug had
deposited us at the
Fenley docks, and
when Holmes had pressed a considerable payment on the captain, he met
with
some resistance. That worthy
confessed that he had
not enjoyed
himself so much since he helped run down two escaped prisoners from
the Coleford jail who were making for Cardiff in a stolen launch.
Holmes had been insistent and had given the lively
old
sailor a personal card with a number penned on
the
back.

"Should
there be questions from the local authorities," my friend
had said, "have them contact
this
number at Whitehall."

"Pshaw,"
the mahogany-faced captain had re
sponded.
"I'll just show 'em your card and that will
shut
'em up." Such are the benefits of fame.

By
the time I had toweled off, Orloff joined us in
our
suite at the Red Grouse Inn. He appeared as
calm
and polished as though he had spent the
morning
lecturing the local ladies' sewing circle on
the
care of ailing cats. Holmes had me swathed in a
blanket
with a tot of Irish whiskey in my hand, and
his
solicitude drew a small smile from the security agent and a tinge of
warmth entered his normally
cold,
unemotional green eyes. With Orloff on hand,
Holmes
bustled off to secure my suit, which al
lowed
me to pose a question or two. Mycroft
Holmes'
right-hand man and his most feared
agent
always treated Sherlock Holmes with deference, for he was so
good himself that he could
recognize
greatness in others. With me he exhibited
flashes
of humor and actual friendship, something I
would
reveal to no one, for I would be courting
disbelief.
The shadowy enforcer of the espionage
system
that officially did not exist was reputed to
have
all the friendly tendencies of a prowling
Bengal
tiger. Why he should present a different face
toward
me was a mystery I was incapable of
solving.

"I
say," I mouthed as a curtain raiser, "you never
did
tell me how you chanced to be down this way."

"The
matter of gold and the solidity of the
pound
is of interest to Her Majesty's government,"
he
replied, igniting one of the small black cigars he
fancied.
He was just talking and knew that I saw
through
his answer that answered nothing. Holmes
had
asked his brother for Orloff, and Mycroft
Holmes
had complied as he had done in the past.
Now
I could identify the associate of Holmes that
the
mysterious Wally had referred to in the tap
room
the previous afternoon. Which brought me to
the
matter I really wanted to touch upon.

"You're
down here smoothing the way for that
Wally
chap."

"You've
met him, then?" Orloff seemed mildly
surprised.

"Very
briefly. Don't even know his name or occupation either, but Holmes
seems to place great
store by him. I'd
say he's giving the fellow a free
rein,
for he provided no instructions during our short meeting."

"On
the theory that some knowledge can be
inconvenient,
Holmes hasn't chosen to tell you
about
the gentleman. All right, Doctor, I'll spin you
a
tale that will be our secret, though it's just a story
dealing
with no particular person we know."

I
must have leaned forward with a pleased
expression,
for Holmes did tend to have his little mysteries and nothing
delighted me more than to
be one up on
him.

"You've
heard, perhaps, of the confidence game?"
asked
Orloff, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

"Bunko,
they call it," I replied. "Bogus com
panies,
non-existent stock, manipulators who prey
on
the larceny that lurks in most hearts."

Again
Orloff registered surprise. "That's an apt
remark,
for a flimflam man wouldn't get a farthing
from
a truly honest citizen. But no matter. Who,
would
you say, is the king of the con men?"

"Get
Rich Quick Wallingford," I responded
promptly.
"The exploits of the American are known
far
and
. . ."
My voice dwindled away and I stared
at
Orloff, noting the slight smile teasing the corners
of
his mouth. "Wally," I muttered softly, "I see."

"The
man
you
referred
to, not I, has no warrants
outstanding
in the States, though I'm sure the
American
police would be delighted if he no longer
graced
their shores. Now, England is a small
nation,
though many of our people have served, in
times
gone by, under foreign flags as mercenaries."

"We've
hired a few ourselves on occasion," I
stated,
my mind reverting to the revolution of the
Colonies
and the battle of Trenton.

"Exactly.
Now if such a man as you mentioned
were
to come over here because the climate in his
homeland
was too warm, possibly his wide experience could be put to use
for the benefit of society."

"To
catch a thief
. . ."
I muttered, and then my
mouth snapped
shut. I did not wish to pursue the subject for fear that one of us
might say too much.
Rather, I resorted
to the matter at hand.
"But who is
the thief?"

"There
has to be one for there's a half a million
that's
missing."

It
was at this moment that Holmes rejoined us,
and
by the time I had donned my now-presentable outer garments, Wally
appeared as well.
So it's to be a war
council
, I thought, regarding the
Ameri
can's handsome face with added
respect.

Holmes
put the ball in play without a warm-up. "We've hit onto
something," he stated, filling his
short
briar, "for Watson was captured today and
they
were after me as well."

Wally's
face registered momentary consterna
tion.
"Could it be because of what I'm doing?
Surely
not, for our brief meeting yesterday could
have
caused no suspicion."

A
sudden thought flashed through my mind.
Could
the Red Grouse Inn be part of the widespread apparatus controlled by
Mycroft Holmes,
the second most powerful
man in England? I
abandoned the idea.

Sherlock
Holmes, his pipe lit, agreed with Wally.
"No,
I think your activities have been well covered."
His
eyes shifted toward Orloff. "No chance of a
leak,
is there?"

Orloff
responded in the negative. "The bank
examiner
we are using doesn't really know what's
going
on. As for the teller, I have too much on him."

So
,
I thought,
some old debts are being
paid off.

Holmes
seated himself in the armchair. "I think
the
sudden attention that came our way was the
result
of our meeting with Burton Hananish."

"Which
confirms your suspicions regarding
him,"
said Wally.

"Oh,
he has to be a part of it, though possibly
unwittingly."
My friend seemed very certain on this
point.
"What I'd like to know is what alerted Hananish or someone in
his household to the
presence of danger
and brought about the attack on
Watson."

"You
discussed the mechanics of the gold shipment, of course."
The American Wally's warm,
gregarious
manner was diminished by a glitter in
his
clear and forthright eyes.

Holmes
nodded. "Hananish went over the reason
the
French needed the gold, the certificates of
indebtedness
issued by them to the west coast
banks .
. ."

My
friend would have continued, but something
in
Wally's manner caused him to fall silent. There
was
a weighty pause. Wally was leaning forward in
his
chair regarding Holmes like an Irish setter
ready
to put up a bird.

"Certificate
of indebtedness, you say, Mr.
Holmes?
Now what might that be?"

Holmes
seemed momentarily nonplussed. "Like
a
letter of credit, perhaps?"

"I
can understand the meaning though I'm not
familiar
with the term, but the French have no
need
for such paper. Like the Bank of England, the
Credit
Lyonnais has the power to issue currency that is just as convertible
as this country's Bank of
England
notes."