Sherlock Holmes in Russia (8 page)

But now the train began to climb uphill. The train slowed down and at the next tunnel was climbing at a crawl. But even here, despite the slow progress, the din was so great that it was impossible to hear any extraneous sounds.

As soon as we emerged from the tunnel, Holmes said to me, ‘Listen, my dear Watson, at the very first stop, get off and try to get home as soon as possible. You should be able to get back by
three o’clock to accept the delivery. When Bakhtadian arrives with the goods, tell him that, because of a lucrative deal, I’m away for a day or two. Tell him you can’t unwrap and evaluate the goods and if he doesn’t trust you, he can take the chests away till I return.’

‘What about you, Holmes?’ I asked.

‘I’ll be back in approximately a day, perhaps even earlier or later, depending on the circumstances,’ he said. ‘In any case, watch carefully everything going on around you.’

He gave me certain instructions and, when the train entered the station, he got off. I got off, too, but did not see him. I was lucky! The return train was standing at the station. Since it was night, nobody intercepted me and I was able to find myself a platform on a freight train. At a quarter past two I was already home.

At about half past three there was a knock on the door. It was Bakhtadian with two others, bringing four chests of goods. He expressed great surprise that Holmes, whom he knew as Vedrin, wasn’t home. Obviously, he wanted to get rid of the goods as soon as possible, collect his money and then he could consider himself on the sidelines. But there was nothing to be done. He didn’t feel like taking the goods back, so he said that he’d be back in two days.

I spent all the next day alone, selling one or two trifles to an occasional customer. Holmes appeared at about nine o’clock in the evening. He threw off his working-man’s clothes, washed the make-up off his face and threw himself hungrily at food. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t take a few sandwiches along with me. I had to work on an empty stomach all day,’ he complained.

The fixed, preoccupied stare probably meant the day’s trek
had not been in vain. He cast a passing glance at the newly delivered chests saying, ‘Bakhtadian was here! He came at about half-past three in the night accompanied by two labourers. There was a white stain on his right shoulder.’

I remembered that Bakhtadian did, in fact, have such a stain and it was, indeed, on his right shoulder. ‘You saw him?’ I asked.

‘Yes, but much earlier.’

‘And most likely you have found out something of great importance,’ I prompted.

‘Yes, I can certainly boast of that,’ Holmes said cheerfully. He lit a cigar, stretched out his legs and began to speak, ‘Of course, Watson, you remember the moment when we parted. As soon as the train stopped, I ran to the fifth carriage from the rear, but neither Bakhtadian nor his companion was there. I looked everywhere, inside every nook and cranny, but it was a waste of time. There was no doubt in my mind they’d jumped off while the train was in motion. But when? It had to be when the train slowed down and that could only be when it was going uphill. There was only one steep climb before that station when the train really slowed down.’

‘That was just before we got to the long tunnel,’ I interrupted. ‘I think the whole tunnel was on a steep incline.’

‘Quite right, my dear Watson. You are to be commended for your powers of observation,’ said Holmes. ‘And so I had to assume that they’d both jumped off either before we got to the tunnel or inside it. If so, the question arises, why? And then another question, why did they move from the first carriage to the platform of the fifth, the very one on which the stationmaster and depot manager focused their attention. My first instinct was to throw myself headlong into the tunnel but, instead, I rode as far as the next railway shunting. To examine the carriage while the train was standing at the station was both inconvenient and dangerous. As soon as the train moved, I jumped on the platform which Bakhtadian and his companion had occupied.
The train moved out of the station and, as soon as we were beyond the last station semaphore, I began to examine the sides of the carriage with the aid of a pocket torch. The first thing I noticed was that there were chinks in the panelling and these chinks were not filled with paint. It was as if the panelling wasn’t painted after it had been installed, but boards had first been painted and then used for panelling. In one of those panels I found a little hollow. It was as if someone had hammered in a thick nail but, before hammering it all the way through, it had been pulled out.

‘I took out a steel pin I carried with me, inserted it in the hollow and jiggled it from side to side. Nothing happened. But when I jiggled it up and down, it slid deeper in without resistance. Now it became possible to remove the entire panelling and then four more, creating a wide gap.’

‘This is most intriguing,’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes.’ Holmes nodded. ‘When I went into the carriage, it was half empty. There were only a few chests left, which the thieves hadn’t the time to throw out before the train reached the top of the incline. I replaced the panelling carefully and, as we were going up another incline, I jumped off the train. All the way back I ran at full speed. At last I got back to the station and walked beyond. I had marked the tunnel, which was a good eight miles from the station. There were two more tunnels along the way and I walked through them without hindrance, although I came across watchmen at their entrances. But no sooner did I come to the tunnel I was aiming for than I was intercepted by a watchman, “Where d’you think you’re going!” he yelled. “Don’t you know tunnels are out of bounds!” I argued and swore, but to no avail. He wouldn’t let me through. I had to resort to cunning. I pretended to go round and hid behind a bush on a high rock. From here I had a clear view of the watchman. As soon as I saw him go inside his booth, I threw myself down and darted into the tunnel. It was a long tunnel, I thought, a good half mile and longer.’

Sherlock Holmes paused, drank a little red wine and went on, ‘I moved forward carefully, listening for the slightest sound, shining my torch on the walls and examining the sides of the tunnel carefully. Some three hundred yards into the tunnel, I came across a wagon that had been emptied and leaned up against the wall inside an archway. I scrutinized every stone of the tunnel at this point. And then I saw that four stones were not at one with the rest of the wall. They were cemented together. Moreover, they were not rock, but slabs cemented together. The four together were seven feet square. Undoubtedly, an artificial entrance way but, try as I might, I couldn’t find how to get it to open. Today, my dear Watson, we’ll summon Bakhtadian, settle up with him for the delivery, and go there together.’

‘Do you suspect that’s the hiding place for stolen goods?’

‘Yes, at least for this route. Every railroad route has its own storage facilities,’ answered Holmes.

We agreed on when we’d be going and lay down to sleep. Holmes slept for a couple of hours and then, having dressed in his ordinary clothes, vanished. He was back half an hour later with Bakhtadian in tow.

The three of us set to sorting out the goods Bakhtadian had delivered. The chests contained boots marked army quartermaster issue and underwear for junior ranks. Holmes assigned everything the exact factory prices and this, and the agreed percentage, was paid to Bakhtadian.

Bakhtadian promised to deliver another lot the same night, but not before four o’clock, and left. We changed swiftly into our previous workmen’s clothes and sped to the station.

We carried dark cloaks with us. The station was empty. The next train was due to leave in two hours and a quarter. We decided
not to waste that much time, so we returned.

First we went to where Bakhtadian lived. But it was dark there, too, so we walked up and down the streets of the little village. It was in total darkness. The little village slept the sleep of the dead. At its edge we were near the Red Cross storehouse and were about to turn back, when we suddenly heard voices.

‘It’s Bakhtadian,’ Holmes whispered. ‘For heaven’s sake, take care. Follow me!’

He bent low and crept to the pile of goods belonging to the Red Cross, covered with tarpaulin. Soon enough, we saw the silhouettes of three men, amongst whom I recognized that of Bakhtadian. We crept nearer, ducked under the tarpaulin and began to listen. ‘You don’t have much to sell, have you?’ Bakhtadian was asking quietly.

‘As far as we are concerned, we have army quartermasters as part of us, which means we can let you have quite a lot,’ said another voice. ‘Everything you take, we can show as having been forwarded but destroyed during the retreat. We’ve come to an agreement over this with most army quartermasters. But you have to take the stuff as soon as possible, before the commission checking on remainder quantities gets to work.’

‘So where do we get the stuff from?’

‘Partly here, partly in Harbin.’

‘What have you got?’

‘Mainly tinned goods, canvas, leather of all sorts, ready-made boots, oats, barley, flour—’

‘And where do we discuss prices?’

‘See me. I arrived today and I’m staying with the quartermaster.’

‘Very well, but how do you aim to bring the cargo from Harbin?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We live in harmony with the railways and share everything.’

‘Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning,’ said Bakhtadian.

And evidently now turning to the third man, he said, ‘And how about you?’

‘The same as with them,’ the third voice answered. ‘There’s a lot you can buy from us in the Red Cross, sugar, underwear, wine, cloth, tobacco, tinned goods—’

‘Where can they be picked up?’

‘Also here, then in Goon Ju Lin, Harbin.’

‘No fear of discovery?’

‘No fear. We’re dealing with people who won’t talk.’ He proceeded to name names, which Holmes quickly wrote down under the light of a concealed torch.

‘So how did you find me?’

‘Ivan Nikolayevitch recommended you to me.’

‘Yes, I was the one who told Trudin,’ a third voice confirmed.

‘Hmmm,’ lowed Bakhtadian. ‘Come to Ivan Nikolayevitch tomorrow morning, agree on a price and then start moving the stuff.’

‘Done!’

We heard all three depart while continuing their conversation. We left our hiding place and began to return, but Holmes didn’t go to the station. ‘I have to ascertain one or two things,’ he said, ‘so, tonight, you’re on your own.’ We shook hands and he vanished.

The following day at about noon Holmes came home excited and happy.

He said not a word, but seized a sheet of paper, dashed off a telegram and rushed off to the telegraph office.

‘Well, my dear Watson,’ he said, when he returned half an hour later, ‘now I’ve got them all firmly in my hands. In three
days time, all the stolen goods will be freighted from everywhere.’

‘You’ve seen something?’ I asked.

‘More than necessary,’ said Holmes cheerfully. ‘When we parted, I went to the home of the quartermaster. His orderly was outside and we fell into conversation. He told me that there was a guest, an official of the Harbin quartermaster. This official’s name is Ivan Nikolayevitch Bravoff, who has been assigned a corner room with windows leading into the garden. When the orderly went to bed, I climbed up to the roof without any problem and slipped into the attic through the dormer window. I found the area above Bravoff’s room and drilled a hole in the ceiling. I sat there quietly without moving all night. At about eight, peeking through the hole, I saw Bakhtadian appear, then Trudin and, finally, a fellow called Verkhoveroff, an assistant stationmaster. They all began to haggle without any constraint, naming many names participating in the business, all of which I was able to write down. Amongst them were generals, and engineers, and agents empowered to act on behalf of the Red Cross. The discussion was so frank and open, I was really convinced that without the indirect help of such people, neither Bakhtadian, nor Trudin, nor Bravoff was in a position to do anything or would have to limit themselves to trifles. Some of those named were in such high positions, they themselves had such powerful patronage (protexia, as they call it hereabouts), that they could have any investigation or prosecution against themselves suppressed. But that, Watson, is none of our business. In three days time, the delivery to the secret depot from their nearest points begins. Then, from the furthest to the nearest, which will now serve as intermediate points. It looks as if this gang is so sure of the power of the people at the top that the members operate openly. Well, we’ll see. The day after tomorrow sees the arrival of Zviagin with gendarmes in disguise.’

For two days we quietly held ourselves ready, continuing to watch Bakhtadian. At the end of the second day Zviagin arrived with eight disguised gendarmes. Like them, he, too, was in civvies. They went by train to the nearest station and walked from there. They arrived late at night and, so as not to attract suspicion, settled themselves in a shed in our yard.

Holmes told them in minute detail everything that had happened in the meantime. They made notes all night, but I noticed both fear and indecisiveness reflected on Zviagin’s face.

We were all up early. Bakhtadian arrived at about nine. He told us that, in a day or two, he’d be delivering a vast amount of goods to us and, asking us to prepare space and money, he left.

The rest of the day I spent with Holmes at the station. Dressed as labourers, we attracted no attention and were easily able to watch four freight cars standing on the outward route being loaded in preparation for departure, while Bakhtadian and the depot manager looked on from a distance. The cargo for these freight cars was brought on Chinese carts from a small village.

At the same time, a freight train arrived from the east. The chief conductor came up to Bakhtadian and, having said something to him, poked a finger at three successive carriages at the rear of the train.

Holmes looked at them and smirked, ‘They’re not sealed, but are bound to have goods inside.’ And as if to confirm his observation, the door of one opened and out jumped Bravoff and Trudin.