Sherlock Holmes (27 page)

It took me but a moment to say,
“The Prime Minister! Sean O’Bryan… he befriended Catherine Ward to
obtain… to obtain a map of the pipework beneath… Good Lord!
Westminster!”

Holmes nodded, “Yes, perhaps she
asked too many questions or suspected his motives regarding Downing
Street. Either way, she had to die. She could identify Sean
O’Leary, or O’Bryan, as he called himself and she knew precisely
the area he was interested in.”

Pausing for a moment, Holmes
seemed now to be considering the mechanics of the plot. “So, how
exactly is this to be done? I believe that O’Leary and his men
intend to use the mechanical ‘mule’ to transport dynamite through
some underground pipework that sits beneath Downing Street.” Holmes
paused again and, as if asking the question of himself, he
continued, “Perhaps a more pressing need is to determine when this
is to happen and where they might gain access to the pipes. I must
contact Mycroft to establish the Prime Minister’s engagements.”

Holmes rose from his chair and
began to pace, a clear sign of his grave concern. “I expect the
maps of Miss Ward’s employer to show not only their own hydraulic
pipe network but the cables, pneumatic pipes and sewers of other
companies. We must have sight of these plans, Watson.”

Holmes consulted his pocket
watch, saying, “Their offices will be closed for the day but no
doubt my brother will still be in Whitehall.” Reaching for his
notebook, Holmes paused briefly and then thoughtfully wrote out a
telegram. “I must try not to alarm Mycroft for no doubt the Fenians
will have spies or sympathisers within Whitehall. We do not want
them warned off. Tell me what you think of this, Watson: ‘Mycroft,
it is my intention to call upon the Prime Minister in Downing
Street this week. Please advise as to his engagements for the week.
Sherlock.’ I think that is appropriate… and Mycroft is no fool.” I
nodded. I was very much aware that Mycroft Holmes was a man with an
intellect at least equal to that of his brother. Holmes rang the
bell for Mrs Hudson who then duly collected the telegram.

Chapter 8 – Mycroft takes the
bait

Sitting back in our armchairs,
we enjoyed a pipe of tobacco. Holmes had his head in a copy of The
Police Gazette and the occasional snort and chortle from him proved
to me that he read it purely for amusement rather than as a source
of information! For my part, I picked up my copy of The Lancet for
late March and began to read the final section of a most
informative paper detailing the results of a trial of open-air
treatment of tuberculosis.

After perhaps half an hour, the
sound of a Hansom drawing up in the street below and a familiar
tread on the stairs announced the arrival of Mycroft Holmes.
Without even knocking, Mycroft swept in, depositing his hat and
coat on the back of our chaise longue and nodding a greeting in my
direction. “I take it, Sherlock, that your telegram was intended as
some crude form of bait designed to entice me here?”

Holmes smiled, saying, “Clearly
it had the desired effect.”

Mycroft’s response was to say,
“A simple invitation to Baker Street for a glass of Sherry might
have sufficed.”

Holmes rose from his chair.
“Possibly, as I am aware that you have no great liking for it.”

Mycroft nodded, adding, “My
point, exactly!”

I put down The Lancet and
regarded the two brothers. Over the years I had become used to this
intellectual, fraternal fencing. The cutting comment, the parry and
riposte; each brother trying to score a point against the other. I
now regarded it as commonplace.

Holmes returned to his chair and
invited Mycroft to sit. Picking up his pipe, Holmes drew steadily
upon it and began to explain the happenings of the previous few
days, saying, “There was a good reason for the content of the
telegram Mycroft…”

Over the next half hour I could
see the furrows on Mycroft’s brow deepen as he recognised the
potential for disaster. It was when Mycroft was shown the tracing
paper seized during the raid on the Fenians that he asked, “Do you
think that this attack is imminent?”

Holmes’ face was grim. “I
believe that they will waste no time. Their operation has been put
at risk both by the raid by Special Branch and the death of Mihail
Konsulov… and, they have lost one of their ‘mules’. It is indeed
fortunate that we have been able to link the death of Catherine
Ward to O’Leary. He is a very cautious man and has left no
incriminating map of where they are to strike. The lines on the
tracing paper are meaningless without the corresponding map.”

Understanding struck me like a
thunderbolt! “Of course, the tracing paper… it is a template… no,
an overlay!”

Holmes drew upon his pipe and
blew out a thin stream of blue smoke before saying, “There is
something more. I believe that the figure 8 on the tracing paper
may be particularly significant… but I require confirmation from
you Mycroft. The House of Commons in Westminster is not sitting…
but what are the Prime Minister’s engagements for the 8th of
April?”

On hearing this, I spluttered,
“But…but that is tomorrow!”

I looked towards Mycroft, his
complexion now looked almost grey. Mycroft stood and reached for
his hat and coat, saying, “He is to have a full cabinet meeting at
3p.m. at10 Downing Street with the heads of the Metropolitan Police
and The Special Irish Branch. I must return to Whitehall, Sherlock.
This cannot be allowed to happen.”

Holmes was seen to remove his
pipe from his mouth and hold up a cautionary hand. “Do not be too
hasty Mycroft, this needs some careful thought. If the Fenians get
even an inkling of our suspicions, they will disappear. Were they
to strike again, it would be without us knowing their hand. Many
more innocent lives would undoubtedly be lost.”

Mycroft paused, sensing that his
brother had more to say. Sitting again, he asked, “What do you
propose, Sherlock?”

Holmes had moved to the edge of
his seat, his eyes now bright, burning like coals. “As I understand
it Mycroft, The London Hydraulic Power Company does not have the
monopoly on underground workings in Westminster. There are, I
believe, discreet underground passageways that link important
government and, perhaps, even Royal buildings. These passageways
are, I would imagine, invisible on any commercial map.”

I sat intrigued and looked at
Mycroft who now seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable in his seat.
Shuffling more than a little, Mycroft nodded. “That may well be the
case, Sherlock. I am not at liberty to say more… but how might they
be useful in the present situation?”

Holmes was clearly enjoying the
intellectual aspect of devising his plan but, I believe, he was
taking an equal amount of pleasure from seeing his brother’s
obvious discomfort!

Holmes continued, “I suggest
that you tell only the Prime Minister and the two senior police
officers of our suspicions. As a sensible precaution, the moment
the Cabinet is fully assembled and the front door is closed, 10
Downing Street is to be evacuated through the passageways beneath.
It is logical to assume that an attack would occur at a time when
the Cabinet meeting was well underway so as to inflict maximum
casualties. This works in our favour and would allow time for the
evacuation.”

Holmes paused and then slammed
his fist down upon the arm of his chair. “We must not let these
villains slip through our grasp, Mycroft. They must be stopped! I
intend to visit The London Hydraulic Power Company early tomorrow
morning and determine the location from which they intend to
strike.”

Mycroft nodded, saying, “I will
go directly to Downing Street. Expect a telegram within the hour.”
With that, Mycroft swept from our rooms.

True to his word, barely an hour
later, Mrs Hudson appeared with her tray that contained two cups of
tea and a government telegram. Holmes opened it and laughed aloud.
“Listen to this, Watson: ‘The P.M. looks forward to seeing you on
the 9th. He hopes you will join him for a glass of sherry.’ Hah! It
seems Mycroft has succeeded!”

Holmes and I sat a little
longer. The mirth from reading Mycroft’s telegram had dispersed and
matters had indeed become more serious. Holmes leant towards me,
saying, “Once we have had sight of the plans and obtained the
information we need, Watson, there will be some considerable
personal danger in what lies ahead.”

I was grateful for, and a little
touched by, Holmes’ concern for my safety. I rose and turned to go
to my room, saying, “Where you lead, Holmes, I shall follow. Have
no fear, my service revolver will be cleaned and loaded before I
retire.” Holmes smiled and nodded and I left him to his
thoughts.

We rose quite early the
following morning and, after a light breakfast, headed downstairs
to take a cab to Pimlico where Catherine Ward had been employed.
The twenty-minute cab ride was almost in silence. Both of us, I
believe, were thinking of the afternoon to come that could well be
fraught with danger.

The offices of The London
Hydraulic Power Company were housed in a grand, baroque, red brick
building. Its architecture reflected the importance of a company
that now provided power for some of the most prestigious addresses
in London. Leaving the cab, we walked up the steps of the building
and into a foyer that might have been plucked from a grand hotel.
Oak panelling graced the walls either side of the entrance and the
ceiling was adorned with ornate, moulded plasterwork. This style of
decoration was mirrored by the gracious reception area, which was,
in turn, completed by a fine crystal chandelier.

Holmes approached the desk,
touched his hat, presented his card to a receptionist and asked to
see the General Manager. After but a few moments, a well-dressed
gentleman appeared, clutching Holmes’ card.

Nodding to us both, he greeted
us with a hearty “Good morning, gentlemen, I am Anthony Smith, the
General Manager. I have to say that I am somewhat surprised to
welcome a private detective to our offices.”

Holmes touched his hat, saying,
“Good morning, I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague Dr
John Watson. We would like to discuss with you the rather delicate
matter of the death of Miss Catherine Ward.” Holmes looked towards
Mr Smith and his face bore a winning smile as he asked, “Do you
think that we might go somewhere a little more private?” In
contrast, Anthony Smith now looked particularly uncomfortable.

Looking around him, he gestured
to us both, saying, “This way, gentlemen.” He ushered us, with some
deal of haste, towards an ornately carved door upon which gilded
letters announced his name and title. Once inside, we were invited
to sit. When seated, it was Holmes who took the lead. “Mr Smith, I
will come straight to the point. We have been reliably informed
that Miss Ward removed and took home one of the maps of your
pipework, for personal reasons, in the days before her death.”
Holmes leant forward in his chair and, as if to emphasize the
point, he added, “Please excuse me if I have not used the precise
terminology for these documents.”

Smith just blinked, saying,
“That is impossible! Our plans are in constant use. They are signed
out and signed back in on a ‘one day’s use only’ basis by our
clerks whenever they are requested.”

Holmes’ voice became slightly
more forceful. “Nevertheless, I assure you that it did happen.
Perhaps you might check the records for the plan of Westminster and
I would also need to have sight of the plan.”

It was clear that this was an
unusual request and, as I watched, Smith took out his handkerchief
and blotted his brow, saying, “I am not sure that I can allow
this…”

Holmes’ fist crashed down on
Smith’s desk. “Mr Smith! You will get the record and the plan
immediately. I do not have time to waste on red tape! If it takes a
request by telegram to Lord Crump, the chairman of this company and
a personal friend of mine, then so be it. I do not believe that he
would be well pleased if he knew his General Manager was impeding a
murder inquiry which involved malpractice within the company.”

On hearing this, Smith fairly
bounded for the door and summoned the Head Clerk who was despatched
poste-haste to retrieve the documents. Holmes sat bolt upright in
his chair. I had to smile as I observed Smith almost hopping from
one foot to the other as he impatiently waited for the clerk’s
return. He was now sweating profusely and even more so as Holmes
took out his pocket watch from his waistcoat, consulted it and then
briskly snapped it shut.

Within no more than three or
four minutes, the clerk returned with a large, linen-backed plan
and a record book. The plan was quickly spread out on Smith’s desk
whilst he began to search through the signatures in the record
book. Holmes, in the meantime, had withdrawn from his coat pocket
the all-important tracing paper and was now searching for a
matching pattern amongst the pipework.

Smith coughed discreetly. “It
err… it seems, Mr Holmes, that you are correct. This particular
plan was signed out by Catherine Ward on the 2nd of April and not
returned to storage until the 4th of April.”

Holmes nodded briefly. “Tell me,
Mr Smith, to whom does this section of pipe belong and how is it
accessed at this point?” I looked down at the map and saw that
Holmes had a perfect match with the tracing paper and his finger
was pointing to a letter ‘X’.

Smith leant forward, saying,
“Ah, that is a private spur of the London Pneumatic Despatch
Company and runs beneath Downing Street. It is not in use as the
original company failed some six years ago but all the original
pipework is intact. The point you have marked is an underground
service chamber. Several pipelines pass through it and a new
interceptor sewer passes beneath, with access and drainage
manholes.” Smith placed his finger at the start of Downing Street
and then moved it a little way to the east. “To get to this chamber
there is but one entrance, here, on Richmond Terrace. This symbol,
‘G’, indicates that access is via a gated doorway which will be
padlocked.”