Sherlock Holmes-The Army of Doctor Moreau (14 page)

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.

Once Kane had left, Holmes visibly relaxed and settled back into his armchair. He reclaimed his pipe and brought it back to life with a match. “An unnerving character, Watson,” he said. “Only a fool argues with the clear evidence of his own eyes. Still, to be face to face with such a beast. To converse with it …”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admitted.

“It is a nightmare of flesh,” he concurred. “The sort of vision one might suffer after indulging in that opium pipe he made such light business of.”

“He made light business of a great deal of criminal behaviour,” I said. “It’s a wonder you let him leave.”

He shrugged. “What choice did I have? I no more trust him than I like him but the stakes are high and we must take every advantage offered. I strongly suspect that the minute we descend into that damp ‘under-city’ our lives will be fragile things indeed, but we must try. Who knows what that creature’s creator has planned? Are
we dealing with a lunatic with ideas beyond his ability or, much worse, are we dealing with a man who can achieve the monstrous acts he claims he is capable of?”

“A serum that forces the human body to adapt? I cannot credit it.”

“In truth, nor can I but the risk of the consequences if we are both wrong is too great to bear.”

He settled to think for a moment, no doubt imagining the possible effects of such a chemical. What chaos it could wreak if let loose into the world!

I settled into the chair opposite him and reached for my own cigarettes. What manner of creature would Holmes become if exposed to such a concoction—a swollen brain hovering over a pair of massive, tobacco-hardened lungs? The thought of such a beast, despite the serious context, could not help but make me smile.

“And what of you?” he said, intruding into my thoughts. “A massive heart and stomach perhaps?”

“Steady on, Holmes,” I replied, “there’s no need to be offensive.” I didn’t acknowledge that he had guessed what I had been thinking. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. It was a damnable trick and not the first time he’d played it.

Which reminded me of how I had spent the majority of my day. “You may be able to read my more obvious thoughts, Holmes,” I said. “But even you will not be able to plumb the depths, I have a great deal to tell you!”

“Your investigations went well did they?” he replied.

I concede that for a moment I was more than a little put out. “My investigations?”

“Well obviously you’ve been looking into the matter, you’ve been
out all day and were no doubt positively itching to prove your deductive capabilities.”

“Only because you have been so damnably smug of late!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Only of late?” He offered a smile. “You know my moods, Watson my friend, better than any other. I apologise for my recent behaviour. I would say that it won’t happen again but we both know that’s a promise I’ll struggle to keep.”

In a way Holmes was even more irritating when he capitulated; you wanted to rage at the man and all he could do was nod and admit he was annoying. If there was a better way of taking the wind from a man’s sails I didn’t know of it.

“You are quite the most irritating man I know.”

“I excel in all things then,” he replied and chuckled. “But come! Tell me of your adventures.”

Seeing little point in arguing further, I did as he asked. I picked up the folder containing Prendick’s account and the papers I had been given by Mitchell.

“Watson,” Holmes announced once I had finished, “if I ever suggest you are anything less than a marvel remind me of today, you have done extremely well.”

Despite my previous irritation I couldn’t help but be pleased. “I must admit that I was concerned that I was hardly farther forward than when I began,” I admitted. “The mystery seems thicker rather than clearer.”

“These matters are murky indeed,” he admitted, “but you have certainly gathered data that solves some of the loose ends. In fact you have given me most of what I need to complete my own deductions.”

“Complete them?”

“Indeed. Prendick’s death seemed deeply unsatisfactory to me and that is at last brought into clarity.”

“Unsatisfactory?” That seemed hardly a humane word to use in the context.

He tutted at my faint disapproval. “You know full well what I mean,” he said. “Viewed from a purely logical perspective—as I always must, these matters will not solve themselves by my emoting all over them—it presented a number of complications. Why was acid used? It immediately made one suspect that the body was not that of Prendick but rather someone else entirely, the acid an attempt to disfigure the corpse so extensively it would be impossible to tell.”

I admitted that the thought had occurred to me.

“Of course it had, Mycroft too I have no doubt. But it would seem from what Inspector Mann tells us that the face was perfectly clear. So why such a painful method?”

“I had wondered whether there was a degree of self-hatred involved,” I said. “He chose a painful method because he believed he deserved to suffer.”

Holmes shook his head. “Someone who wishes to suffer does not end their life.” He suddenly clapped his hands. “Of course! It was a preventative measure! He wanted to destroy his organs so that they would be of no further use. He was terrified of some part of him ending up inside another creature.”

“It’s a possibility,” I agreed.

“A certainty, he must have had a good reason to endure such suffering and it’s the only one that fits.”

I began to leaf through his account of matters on the island. “This is quite the most bizarre thing you’ll ever read,” I said.

“No,” said Holmes, fetching his hat and coat, “for one day you’ll write its sequel! Gather yourself, Watson, we should begin preparations for this evening.”

I folded Prendick’s account into my pocket and within moments we were in a cab and on our way to a hotel on The Strand.

“We need to enlist the rifle of Mr Carruthers,” Holmes explained. “It would be foolishness indeed to take on such ferocious beasts without it. While we travel let me tell you how I’ve occupied my own time, for you can rest assured neither of us have been idle.

“I decided to investigate the two animal dealers Johnson mentioned. Perhaps a trail could be established, leading from the ledger book of one to the illicit laboratory of the other. It was a worthwhile thread to follow.

“Of the two businesses, that of the Welshman, Thomas, seemed the most likely. Johnson had already established that the majority of his trade was to the scientific community. The business is run from a small shop on the Commercial Road. It presents itself as a most innocent affair, a general store like any other.”

Holmes gestured offhandedly out of the cab window to illustrate his point.

“A small bell above the door alerted Thomas that he had a
visitor,” he continued, “and he emerged from a back room while I was perusing his stock.”

Holmes smiled, clearly working his mental way along the memory of the man’s shelves.

“He seemed to carry a little of everything as the most successful of those shops inevitably do—from basic ironmongery to reams of cloth; tinned groceries to children’s toys. And if you couldn’t see it, instructed several hand-printed signs dotted around the place, all you had to do was ask and the management would track it down for you.”

“A bold claim!” I said.

“Indeed,” Holmes agreed, “though I had little doubt it was true, indeed Thomas repeated it as he emerged through a pair of bead curtains and onto the shop floor.

“‘Good morning, Sir,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is that you’re hunting for, merely give the word and I shall find it.’

“I had been browsing through the children’s toys at the time, a wooden ark complete with its biblical cargo. I placed a small carved lion on the palm of my hand and showed it to him. ‘Might you have any bigger specimens?’ I asked.”

“Subtle,” I laughed.

“We haven’t time to waste on pussyfooting around,” Holmes replied, “brazen enquiries were the way forward. Thomas was only too happy to match my candour.

“‘How big did you have in mind?’ he said.

“‘I had heard you might be able to provide a full-size example,’ I told him, gathering more of the carved animals and holding them out. ‘In fact I was led to believe you could provide full-size examples of pretty much any animal I chose to name.’

“He smiled, not willing to admit to anything until he had some assurances. ‘As the signs say, Sir, I pride myself on being able to find anything my customers wish to buy. These are difficult times for small businesses and many have chosen to specialise in order to survive in today’s modern financial world. I have taken the opposite route. If you want it, I can get it.’