Sherlock Holmes in 2012: LORD OF DARKNESS RISING (2 page)

“Aren’t we a little crabby this morning? What have you had for breakfast? Or didn’t your lady make good on her promises last night… ?” Denver went on with the bantering.

“None of the above, but I got another visit from Sherlock a few minutes ago…”

“You did? Wow! Now that would get anyone a bit on the grumpy side.” Denver paused. “So what did he have to say for himself this morning? Did he tell you that we’re gonna have another nine-eleven on our hands? Or maybe he told you where Adnan is again?”

“That’s just it; I mean you told me that Adnan had been seen on Broadway last night…”

“No, I didn’t say that, Agent Weisberg,” Denver replied, sounding offended. “If you read my report correctly, I said that Adnan attended a Preview of a remake of
The
Mouse
Trap
on Broadway two nights ago – not “last night”.”

“Okay, okay, my mistake, but did your guys see where the man went afterwards?”

Denver hesitated. “No, not as far as tailing him to his residence, if that’s what you meant.”

“I thought so,” Weisberg said concertedly. “Do you have any idea why the man chose Broadway or why he went to see
The
Mouse
Trap
?”

“The only thing I could figure is that he had been invited to the re-opening of the famous play, no, why?”

“Think, Denver, think of the significance of both the location and the play itself…”

“And what am I supposed to think – that the guy likes Agatha Christie and that he’s not shy to show himself during a full house performance?”

“Did you hear yourself?”

“I guess I did – I’m not deaf yet!” Denver was getting a little impatient with Wise-Bob’s riddles.

“Not deaf, Denver, but you’re getting blind in your old age and certainly complacent.”

“I’m not complacent!” the FBI agent retorted. “I just don’t see where you’re going with this. And if you didn’t spend all your time spurting riddles on the phone, maybe I would see your point a little clearer and get out of your maze of words.”

Weisberg could only chuckle at the remark. He loved that about Denver, he always had a funny way with words. “Okay, I’ll accept that and I’ll clarify: Adnan has been engaged by al Qaeda to do damage in the US – correct?”

“Right.”

“Then he himself does not get anything done but engages the services of a man known as David Penny who leads everyone to believe that Adnan has left the country and is preparing to plant some sort of radiological bomb in the London Tube.”

“Yeah – I read your report about that,” Denver agreed. “He even did it twice – I mean first with the Tube and then the Stock Exchange.”

“That’s right. And now we’ve got Adnan going to Broadway and attending
The
Mouse
Trap
 – what does that tell you?”

“You tell me!”

“David Penny was the piece of cheese, you idiot,” Weisberg exclaimed. “Don’t you see; both diversions in London were only designed to lure us to the wrong trap. While we would have been busy spending our resources in London helping MI5 out of a non-existent mess, the real trap has been set up right here, in the States – on Broadway to be precise – and in the Majestic that will open its doors this Saturday to the great theatre goers and all the folks who would attend the play.”

“You mean Adnan has locked a radiological bomb in the Majestic – ready to detonate it on Saturday?”

“That’s precisely what I deduced from Sherlock Holmes’s remark.”

“Are you sure the fellow is not spinning a yarn to get your attention again?”

“Can you afford to ignore a clue that would perhaps lead us to a bomb designed to kill every one attending a play – any play – on Broadway on Saturday?”

“Okay, Weisberg. Leave it with me and I’ll see what we can do at this end.”

That afternoon, and as soon as Irene Adler had left the B&B, Sherlock decided he needed to investigate his assumption of a bomb being already planted in the famous Majestic Theatre on Broadway. The evening was already drawing near and he knew he needed to take the Acela Express that would get him in New York in the next few hours – as soon as possible, in fact.

The five o’clock Acela Express would get him in New York at 7:50 PM – just in time to make his way to the Majestic and take a look around.
The
Mouse
Trap
was due to open in two days’ time and if he was right, Sherlock would need to find that bomb before it was detonated during the first act. Being rush-hour in Washington, he almost didn’t make the train in time. Still dressed in a dark suit, the plaid overcoat and his favourite cap, Sherlock attracted attention everywhere he went. As he boarded the express and was about to take a seat, a middle-aged, buxom woman brushed past him, saying, “Come on, Sherlock, give us some space. You’re practically blocking the aisle!”

At hearing his name, Sherlock flattened himself against the back of the aisle seat and let the woman pass. “I am very sorry, Madam… , please go ahead,” he blurted.

The woman shrugged and went to take a seat by the window two or three rows ahead of them. Intrigued, Sherlock followed her and sat beside her. “How do you know my name?” he asked her quietly as the train was about to depart the station.

“Don’t that beat all,” the woman replied. “In that get-up, what else should I call you, King Tut maybe?” She shook one of her shoulders as if trying to brush off something from it.

“I don’t understand,” Sherlock said, turning to her. “What do you mean by “get up”?”

She shot him a quick glance. “You got to be kidding me. You’re dressed exactly like Sherlock Holmes – that’s what I mean.”

“That’s because I am!”

The woman let escape a loud guffaw out of her mouth. “You’ve got to be joking. The great detective is dead, or haven’t you read the papers last century?” She laughed.

“I can assure you I am not dead, my dear lady – the fact being that I am speaking to you at this very minute…”

“Yeah, and you’re probably gonna tell me that you’ve come to rescue all of us poor souls out of the torment of hell, aren’t you?”

“All right, Madame…”

“And don’t call me “Madame”, I’m a respectable working woman who’s going home to her husband, like I do every night after a long day’s work – and I’m not stumping the streets soliciting any of the johns roaming the city – if you care to know.”

By this time, Sherlock was staring. Most of what he had heard spoken thus far was English – occasionally distorted by the American accent – yet nothing like this woman’s speech had ever reached his ears. He was perplexed and decided to keep his mouth shut.

The woman did the same and for the next three hours concentrated on her knitting, which she had pulled out of her capacious bag.

Meanwhile, Sherlock got up on a couple of occasions and once in Philadelphia where he bought the newspaper during the two minutes the train was at the station. He resumed his seat and opened the paper at the
International
News
Section
, only to find another small article dealing with David Penny – again.

When the task force reached the house of the suspected terrorist, David Penny, they found the old mansion in Chelsea, London, U.K., empty. The man had left the premises hours before and there wasn’t a piece of furniture in the house which could have provided a clue as to his current whereabouts.

Sherlock shook his head, smiled and closed the paper. He knew he had been right. David Penny had been the piece of cheese in
The
Mouse
Trap
 – nothing else.

Mycroft had left Irene with a telephone number where he could be reached at any time. “If you or Sherlock meet with any trouble, don’t hesitate to ring me,” he had said.

Upon her return at her hotel, Irene had delighted in a delicious lunch and was ready to take a nap – she felt exhausted, although she had done nothing on that day that could have justified her sudden tiredness or the need for sleep she experienced at the moment – when she heard the telephone ring. She sat on the bed, picked up the receiver and said nothing.

“Miss Irene Adler?” Mycroft’s voice sounded uncertain.

“Yes, yes, Mycroft – I’m here,” Irene rushed to answer now.

“Did you find him?”

“Yes, I did. He’s still at the little inn – that’s quite a place you found for him…”

“Listen, Irene; I don’t know if you’ve seen the papers this evening, but there’s been some development with David Penny…”

“Sorry to interrupt, Mycroft, but I meant to ask you this – is that the same fellow I was supposed to meet the night you abducted me? Or was that just a coincidence?”

“No coincidence there, my dear, and that’s in fact the reason for which I am ringing you. We’ve tried to locate him and between the time MI5 picked up his tail at the stock exchange and this evening, the man has disappeared – vanished, I should say.”

“Did you find his residence?”

“Well, yes, we did, but that’s all we found.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Simply that we found the house he has occupied apparently “for a long time” – to quote his neighbour – but it was totally empty.”

“You mean the furniture was gone too?”

“Precisely, my dear. As I said, the man just vanished.”

“Would you think Sherlock knows about this?”

“If he read this evening’s papers, I would assume so. But what I’d like to know is this: when you talked to him today, did he tell you anything that could give us a clue as to where this David Penny could be?”

Irene had no intention of divulging her past involvement with David Penny or with his master – Professor Moriarty – at this point. “I only told him that David Penny was a messenger that I used from time to time when I needed to get word to Europe rather rapidly…”

“And we both know that’s not exactly true, is it, Miss Adler?” Mycroft’s tone of voice was turning to ice.

“Perhaps it isn’t, but I didn’t want Sherlock to go on chasing ghosts when the problem in hand is here and now – in 2010.”

“I should say you were right to avoid such questions or confrontation with Sherlock at this point. It would only have complicated matters and resolve nothing of our present problem.”

“So, what do you want me to do now?”

“Just tell me this: did Sherlock mention where he was going tonight?”

“No, not tonight, no. He seemed in a hurry for me to leave though.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I have no idea, Mycroft, I’m sorry.”

“You said, “not tonight,” are you due to meet with him at another time then?”

“Well yes. He asked me to meet him tomorrow at his Baker Street address to visit the house. He sounded keen to show it to me.”

“And when would that meeting take place?”

“He suggested about ten o’clock in the morning… .” Hearing no reply, Irene asked, “Will you come back this weekend as planned?”

“I don’t know, my dear. I’ve been putting so many things on the back burner since this whole affair started, I may have to remain in London for another week or so before I could come back to Washington… . But if you needed anything in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to ring me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course… , I will.”

When they hung up on both sides of the Atlantic, neither was comfortable with the idea of not knowing where Sherlock was that night. Mycroft hoped his brother hadn’t decided to take the time machine and return to 1890 to chase David Penny – that would spell disaster for everyone concerned. He was also glad that Irene had not revealed her connection with Moriarty – no need to bring back the old beast into this affair.

As for Irene, when she replaced the receiver and lay down on the bed, she tried to figure out what could David Penny be doing in this century. Was he more than a messenger? And how would he have travelled through time? To her knowledge, Professor Wells had only constructed two time machines in 1890 and Dr. Nebo had a third that Mycroft used on that one occasion to find out if his brother had travelled to 2010. Could there be someone else with a time machine? There had to be, Irene concluded, how else could the man have travelled back and forth through these two centuries?

Located in midtown Manhattan on West 44
^th
Street and Broadway, The Majestic is one of the largest theatres in New York. With over 1600 seats, Sherlock didn’t wonder why Adnan had chosen the place to detonate his radiological bomb. The spots where the man could have hid his device were innumerable and probably not easily accessible.

What Sherlock didn’t know was that Agent Denver in Washington had already dispatched a number of FBI agents, including bomb and biological warfare experts, to the site. By the time he arrived near the premises, the front entrance was cordoned off and there were police officers everywhere. Seeing this from a distance while still in the cab that had fought its way through traffic for about an hour now, Sherlock asked the driver to drop him off a few blocks farther down the avenue.