Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra (16 page)

There, turning this way and that and resembling for all the world a primeval animal hopelessly trapped within a jungle fire, was the diabolical sight of the man in the crimson robe!

I could not understand how a man as clever and resourceful as Tilat undoubtedly was, could have allowed himself to fall into so precarious a situation. I could only presume that he been attempting to reach the
Bellerophon
before her departure, but had then discovered that his route to the schooner had been cut off by one of the steam launches that Lestrade had put into position for that very purpose. We were subsequently informed that this had indeed been so.

The glare from the moon highlighted the remarkable figure of this robed rebel leader, perfectly. He stood out in relief against the background of the London skyline and I realized that he would be an easy target for my revolver at so short a distance. I slowly removed my weapon from its pocket and was on the point of training it upon Tilat, when a strong hand pushed downwards upon its barrel.

‘No, Watson. We have much still to learn from this remarkable man and it would be wrong to deprive ourselves of the opportunity of doing so. Besides, we are not even certain, as yet, of the exact circumstances that led to the tragedy aboard the
Matilda Briggs.
Tilat may be guilty of nothing more than trying to protect himself. He may have killed only in self-defence. With the knowledge that we now have of Mandel’s true character, it would not be entirely unlikely if that proves to be the case.’

‘Mr Holmes, surely you are not suggesting that we are to allow a suspected multiple killer to escape?’ Lestrade asked excitedly.

‘No, Inspector, I am suggesting nothing of the sort. Remember that there are many different ways of skinning a cat.’

‘Then what exactly are you proposing?’

I noticed, with some consternation that, before answering Lestrade’s question, Holmes removed his coat and then his jacket
and tie. He then strode purposefully towards a frail metal ladder that was attached to the building upon which Tilat had now trapped himself.

I ran towards him and attempted to hold him back.

‘Holmes, I really must protest,’ I called out. ‘Surely this time you risk too much!’

Lestrade ran over and voiced his own concerns, but Holmes remained resolute and would not bow to our entreaties.

‘Do not be too alarmed. After all, if my baritsu form of Japanese wrestling was able to account for Colonel Moriarty, I am certain that it will prove itself to be more than a match for this master of silat.’ Holmes smiled reassuringly as he began to climb.

‘I beseech you not to shoot unless we are faced with the most dire of circumstances.’ Holmes’s voice echoed down to me, but even as I put my gun away, I remained unconvinced by his declaration and my hand remained clenched upon my pistol inside my pocket.

We all moved back so that we could observe clearly the events upon the roof, although I made sure that I remained within a comfortable shooting distance. At one point it seemed as though Tilat was contemplating making a perilous leap from his roof to one that was a full twenty yards away! However, once he realized that Holmes was climbing towards him, he abandoned that extreme measure and moved across in order to confront Holmes at the head of the ladder. He realized that at that precise moment Holmes would be at his most vulnerable.

Fortunately Holmes was also aware of that possibility and he hesitated, once he had reached the head of the ladder, before lifting himself on to the roof itself. Holmes explained to me afterwards that silat was a martial art that was similar in many ways to the Chinese art of kung fu. Its origins could be traced back over a thousand years to the Indian Himalayas and it was as much a spiritual discipline as a physical one. This explained Tilat’s next action.
Instead of attacking Holmes as soon as he had reached the top of the ladder, Tilat stood quite still and upright while he moved his arms forward and upwards in a series of slow controlled movements. This form of standing meditation was Tilat’s way of drawing in and controlling his chi or, in other words, the universal force that is all around us. Finally he removed his straw sandals with great care.

This moment of hesitation, no matter how crucial it had been to Tilat’s preparation, allowed Holmes the chance to gain the rooftop unhindered. He turned towards us, momentarily, and the thrill of an impending battle clearly flared like living flames in his eyes. He then turned to face his opponent.

By this time Tilat had concluded his meditation and he was now practising his own particular form of silat, which he had based upon the movements and the mannerisms of the Sumatran rat monkey. Of course, my only experience of monkeys had been limited to my observations within the zoological gardens of Regent’s Park. However I could not fail to notice how uncannily akin to our simian cousins Tilat’s movements undoubtedly were.

Unlike Holmes’s baritsu wrestling, many of Tilat’s movements were ground-based, and as he slowly made his way towards Holmes he would occasionally drop to the ground and swing his legs around in swift circular movements. Holmes stood defiantly before him and raised his palms ahead of him, in readiness for the initial attack.

At that moment Tilat let out a startling and deafening battle cry that chilled us all to the core as it echoed around the cold and deserted docks. Clearly this cry did not have the desired effect upon Holmes’s determination, for he continued to face Tilat down. Yet, despite his intense concentration, Holmes was caught completely unawares by Tilat’s first ploy.

Tilat threatened with the palms of his hands, in a manner
similar to that described by Michael Collier, when he mentioned the caged rat monkey in Tilat’s Sumatran camp. Holmes countered that with a thrust of his own, but was unprepared for a sudden swing from Tilat’s left leg.

Tilat caught Holmes on his right calf with a sickening crunch and although he did not fall Holmes was clearly caught off balance. This allowed Tilat the opportunity to move in with a strike of his palm to Holmes’s shoulder. All that Holmes could do was fend it off with a wrist-hold of his own. Holmes’s style relied almost entirely on close contact and holds, but Tilat’s constant circular motions, which were fluid and almost balletic, made this virtually impossible.

Once or twice Holmes did manage to manoeuvre himself inside Tilat’s guard and force a grip upon one of his arms, but on each occasion, with a simple floating turn, Tilat managed to extricate himself again and then launch a fresh attack of his own. Instinctively and not without a tinge of guilt, I felt my grip upon my revolver becoming ever tighter.

Holmes’s normally well-groomed hair was constantly falling down over his eyes and as he pushed it back, time and again, I noticed that there was evidence of numerous facial cuts and bruises that were beginning to swell around his eyes. The constant barrage of swift and subtle blows that Tilat was raining down upon him was clearly beginning to take its toll upon my friend and he seemed to have no suitable response.

Gradually a pattern seemed to be emerging, in which Tilat was slowly manoeuvring Holmes towards the edge of the rooftop. At one point Holmes was actually teetering on the roof’s very edge and he was balancing on the balls of his feet! I was on the point of releasing a volley from my revolver when Holmes miraculously launched himself into a overhead leap that saw him crash to the floor in a position of safety. With a feeling of intense relief I eased my finger away from the trigger. It seemed as if Holmes’s final
instructions were still controlling my actions, although I was obeying them with some reluctance.

Tilat would have been on to him in an instant; however Holmes managed to spring to his feet in time, then, in an act of extreme desperation, he hurled his entire body towards that of his opponents. A simple twist of his waist was all that Tilat needed to execute in order to avoid the impact of Holmes’s frantic attack. Then, inexplicably, Tilat stopped in his tracks.

He stood upright once more and went through the same ritual that he had displayed at the beginning of the battle. His bearing and posture were imperious as he stood there composing himself for what would be his final onslaught. Holmes stood before him, defiant and fearless to the last and yet clearly overwhelmed by the extraordinary skills and powers of an undoubted master of his art. As a sign of his respect for Holmes’s bravery, Tilat slowly bowed his head towards him.

Then Tilat let up another of his chilling battle cries and began to execute another series of his deadly circular movements and palm thrusts. Each one of these seemed to find their mark and by now Holmes was capable of offering little or no resistance!

Their progress towards the roof’s edge was swifter and unhindered this time. Holmes looked over his shoulder repeatedly as he sensed the chill oblivion that surely now awaited him. His battered body swayed this way and that and Tilat’s attack was remorseless. I remembered Holmes’s words and decided that these were ‘dire circumstances’ indeed.

Then, and to my intense surprise, when I was at the very point of releasing my bullets, Holmes’s strident voice echoed out once more.

‘In heaven’s name, do not shoot!’

Even now, when the preservation of my friend’s life was my sole object and all other hope was lost, the effect that his voice had upon my actions was absolute. I lowered my revolver once more,
at the very instant that a younger and steadier hand than mine had fired off a volley of his own. The bullet from Daniel Collier’s revolver had caught Tilat cleanly in the centre of his throat.

With a blood-curdling cry the man in the crimson robe clutched both hands to his fatal wound. He was forced to spin around, by the momentum of the shot and, without another sound, he disappeared over the edge of the roof and into the dark abyss!

T
he manner in which Collier had allowed his weapon to drop from his hand and then the anger with which he had kicked it away from himself, once it had landed on the slippery stones at his feet, seemed to suggest to me that this had been the first occasion on which he had been required to use his revolver in anger. The idea of taking another life was clearly abhorrent to him; he turned pale and quickly ran to a nearby drain down which he vomited uncontrollably.

However, my immediate concern was not with the well-being of the young archaeologist, who had still many lessons to learn, about both life and death. For my bruised and battered friend was lying prostrate on a rooftop above me; he was clearly in need of my attention. I lost no time in ascending the ladder and I was by his side in an instant.

To my relief and great surprise I discovered that Holmes was still conscious by the time that I had reached him. He smiled weakly as soon as he recognized me. It did not take me long to ascertain that many of his injuries were most severe and I could only offer a prayer of thanks that Holmes had not met the same fate as that of Carl Mandel.

I cursed myself for having embarked on such a mission without having brought my bag with me. I immediately called down to Rutherford and asked him to dispatch ‘Gunner’ King to
Baker Street, so that he might collect it for me without a moment’s delay.

‘In heaven’s name, Holmes, why did you allow yourself to come to this? To forbid me to shoot was sheer folly,’ I protested once I had returned to his side. He grimaced most grotesquely when I informed him that it had been Collier who had fired the fatal shot at Tilat. It was all I could do to prevent him from trying to raise himself from the floor.

His voice was hoarse and weak; therefore, he grabbed at my collar and pulled me close to his mouth so that I could hear him.

‘Do you not see? I had at last managed to penetrate the veil!’ Even in this semi-conscious state Holmes could not avoid being anything less than enigmatic. His meaning was not clear to me. Perhaps he was suffering from a mild touch of delirium? Nevertheless, the effort that he had expended in making this point to me was evidently more than his ravaged constitution could bear and he fainted quietly away.

I folded my overcoat and placed it gently beneath his head. Once I was satisfied that he was as comfortable as he could be, I stood up and lit a cigarette.

This strange and fateful dawn had, by now, daubed everything around me with a sepia hue. The fog was still dense, yet the
Matilda Briggs
had assumed a most surreal aspect that only added to its mystery. The barges in the distance seemed to float in and out of the folds of rolling mists and their horns were the only sound that pierced the gloom.

Then the call of excited voices rose up from the decks of the
Bellerophon
as the crew came up to discover the cause of all of the commotion. They could not know that their mysterious passenger’s demise was the cause of this ensuing mayhem. Then a familiar voice rang out above all of the others.

Inspector Lestrade had assumed control over the police launches and he was now directing the operation to recover Tilat’s
body. He was clearly in his element and could already, no doubt, see the headlines in the next day’s papers! I smiled to myself as the pitch of his voice rose in proportion to his increasing agitation.

By now Collier had recovered sufficiently for him to be able to join me on the roof top together with Sergeant Rutherford. It was not without some difficulty that we three managed to manoeuvre Holmes back down to street level without causing him further harm. Holmes remained unconscious throughout and by the time we had reached Tilat’s hideaway King had returned with my medical bag.

We had found some sacking in a corner of the warehouse and proceeded to lay Holmes carefully upon it. I set to work immediately with some iodine and swabs and soon realized that Holmes’s wounds were not as severe as I had at first feared them to be. The sharp effect of the iodine upon his open wounds soon brought Holmes back to full consciousness and, with surprising co-operation on his part, I managed to find the areas that were causing him the most discomfort and pain. Of course, the healing of his ribs would have to take its full and natural course.

The pain from his ribs, on each occasion that he coughed, soon put paid to any inclination that Holmes might have had to smoke. However I had fortunately brought along a flask full of brandy and I fed this to Holmes in copious amounts. The alcohol soon had the desired effect and in a short while Holmes felt able to turn his attention towards the bundle that comprised Tilat’s abandoned luggage.

Tilat surely lived most frugally, for his baggage contained nothing of note. A simple change of clothes and a spare pair of straw sandals made up his wardrobe and these had been arranged so as to protect two small oilskin packets. As he delicately fingered each object Holmes gave the impression that he already had a good idea of what he was likely to find inside them.

At that point a rather excited Inspector Lestrade strode triumphantly into the room.

‘We have him!’ he declared. ‘We shall have to lay him down in here for a while, I am afraid, until the wagon has arrived for him. He is an absolute giant of a man, you know, and it is taking three of my best men to struggle over here with him!’

Then he noticed Holmes, who was bending over in the corner.

‘How is our friend progressing, Doctor?’ Lestrade whispered anxiously.

‘I thank you for your concern, Inspector, but I can assure you that I am more than capable of answering on my own behalf! I have suffered a few minor cuts and bruises and nothing more.’

‘A few cuts and bruises indeed! You took an almighty beating, Holmes, and young Collier’s timely intervention prevented it from becoming something far worse than that. You really must take care, you know.’ I said this while knowing full well the futility of making such a suggestion.

‘Yes indeed, we really must congratulate you, young man.’ Lestrade addressed Collier. ‘You displayed a cool head and a steady arm, as I am certain that Mr Holmes will readily and gratefully acknowledge.’

Holmes smiled briefly and mumbled something incoherently under his breath. With some effort and a display of discomfort, Holmes slowly stood up again. He was now holding the two oilskin packets, but he appeared to be strangely reluctant to open either of them. To my dismay Holmes lit himself a cigarette, then struggled to suppress the inevitable and painful cough that it induced.

‘Your wounds will never heal themselves if you treat them in such a cavalier fashion,’ I protested.

Holmes placed his right forefinger over his pursed lips and moved towards the doorway to await the arrival of Tilat’s body, while still clinging on to the two curious packets.

The three burly constables were indeed struggling beneath the weight of the sodden corpse, and I wasted no time in offering my assistance as they laid him down upon the bed of sacking that
Holmes had so recently vacated. We were all taken aback by Tilat’s dramatic appearance; even in death he seemed to command respect and reverence.

His striking robe was soaked through and reeked with the stench that it had collected from the river Thames. His head covering did chillingly invoke the vision of death that Carl Mandel had alluded to before he died. It was still clearly etched with a representation of the Sumatran rat monkey that Tilat had so vividly emulated with his silat movements.

Holmes appeared to be strangely pensive and hesitant before, at last, he requested that I remove Tilat’s unusual head-wear. Sergeant Rutherford led his constables outside and we four fell into a deferential silence as I moved the oil lamp across the room to the side of the corpse. The muted orange light cast a gigantic shadow of the dead rebel leader upon the adjacent wall, and the removal of his mask felt strangely intrusive to me.

I was able to peel it away without any great difficulty; however, the face that was revealed was far removed from the one that I had pictured in my mind’s eye. I glanced around at my companions to see if this revelation was having the same effect upon them. Evidently Lestrade had built up no such picture, for he appeared to be unmoved and indifferent.

Holmes’s face clouded over and he suddenly turned his head away from the sight, as if greatly pained by a stark realization, although not entirely surprised by it.

Daniel Collier’s reaction was as dramatic as it had been unexpected. The colour in his face became as ashen as that of the dead man himself and, with a haunting moan of lament, he fainted clean away and he dropped on to the harsh ungiving floor!