第 20 页

I looked at Holmes, never so pleased to see anyone in my life and knew then that I never again wished to be separated from him.

“Mr Holmes,” I said, trying to stop my voice betraying my emotions. “May we speak in private? I have urgent information concerning the safety of Monsieur Freycinet.”

We sat in a consulting room, just Holmes and I, leaving Jude and Ribot in Freycinet’s private rooms.

“How dare you leave me? It is not for you to make decisions about my safety. I have the intelligence to make such decisions for myself. Did you really intend to come back for me once all this was over?”

I sat back in my chair awaiting an answer and I knew he wouldn’t lie. Holmes lowered his eyes.

“Of course,” he said gently.

He raised his hand up to my neck-chain and the ring he gave me.

“Keep this close,” he said softly. “There have been attempts upon my life already.”

He reached down and took my hand. “You have indeed breathed life into the machine but I fear that life may be extinguished soon.”

“I will protect you. Don’t leave me again.”

I took a deep breath and proceeded to tell Holmes all I presumed about Freycinet’s stay in hospital and the poisoner, Doctor Morgan.

As I suspected, he already knew of the corrupt doctor and his links to the professor. What he didn’t know was how to prove it.

I inquired about the presence of Doctor Watson. Despite my general disregard for the man, I was glad to discover that I had not ruined a strong friendship.

“I had been writing to Watson ever since I left England. Fortunately friendship ruled over judgement and he agreed to join me. I asked him to stay with Freycinet as a deterrent to Morgan and so far it has worked. I cannot progress any further without proof of his commission to murder and that it was Professor Moriarty who gave the order. Freycinet will not believe that his friend, a guest in his own household, tried to take his life.

I have a little file of evidence about the professor but nothing strong enough to ensure a conviction worthy of his years of evil reign. An attempt to murder the Prime Minister of France would be perfect but he has left no trace.”

“Why did he want Freycinet dead?” I asked.

“I believe the professor knew about my contact with Ribot. Freycinet had a meeting with Ribot the afternoon before he was taken ill. The Professor thinks that he knows everything but Ribot actually told him nothing. However, he panicked, and without his advisors around him, contacted his poisoner and ordered a lethal measure.

“He attempted to put it into Freycinet’s Scotch decanter but was trembling and spilt much of the poison. I found traces on the outside of the decanter and the table on which it stood. Freycinet only drank enough to make him ill, but the professor insisted he come to this hospital and arranged for Morgan to finish the job but Watson’s presence has so far kept him away.

“Freycinet is insisting on returning to his suite convinced that he simply has an upset stomach due to a heavy lunch. I do not know how to convince him of his friend’s betrayal.”

My exhausted, battle-weary brain reliably flickered into action once more.

“Oh that’s easy. Can Freycinet stand? I will need him concealed along with Ribot and the highest-ranking police official you can find. Get a room suitable for this, and bring me Morgan. I shall do the rest.”

So that’s how I found myself in a large hospital laboratory with men secreted around me including the man I loved. I was willing to implicate myself and risk my own arrest to capture someone who threatened him.

Doctor Morgan walked into the room. He had come in response to a telegram asking him to visit the hospital laboratory. I had been awake for more than twenty-four hours by now. I was so tired, my eyes felt heavy and swollen but my resolve was undimmed.

He asked something in French, presumably inquiring who I was.

“Oh please! A London girl like me can’t be expected to understand such nonsense. Speak English, doctor, for God’s sake. I know that you can from the correspondence exchanged between us regularly regarding the poisoning of the guard at the Louvre and your assistance with a particularly difficult jewel theft.

“Don’t you know who I am? I am Red Moriarty, Doctor Morgan. A pleasure to meet you in person, or rather it would be if my husband had the resolution he requested of you.”

The doctor shifted on his feet, darting furtive glances around the room. I knew this was the last time anyone would fear me because of my husband, the last time I would ever use the name Moriarty. I had seen that frightened look on countless faces so many times before but now I realised it was out of reverence for the one who sent me. What a fool I had been all those years and how liberating it was to know the truth.

Morgan stammered and I hoped he was convinced by my performance. When he closed the laboratory door securely behind him I knew I had hooked my fish.

He was a nondescript sort of man, official-looking with thick round spectacles. He spoke perfect English with a heavy French accent.

“My sincere apologies Madame Moriarty, there is an English doctor with him at all times, I am trying my best. Please tell Professor Moriarty that patience is necessary but I will not fail him.”

“It’s Ella isn’t it? You’re wife’s name? Pretty I’ll bet? You see, the thing is, pretty faces annoy me. They are just begging to be slapped in my opinion. Slapped good and hard. Anyway, I digress. Did you or did you not agree to poison Freycinet once he arrived at this hospital?”

“Yes of course I did, but...”

“When I asked you to kill the guard at the Louvre, how punctual were you?”

“You had the body at exactly the time requested and it was the same with the secretary in the Charleston ruby theft. I have never failed the professor, never. Freycinet will be dead before the day has ended, I will find a way. You have my word; there is no need to threaten my wife. I said the job will be done and it will. I have just been delayed by the presence of the English doctor.”

Now the witnesses stepped out from their hiding places and revealed themselves to a startled Doctor Morgan.

He was arrested immediately, shouting furiously. I stood waiting for my own arrest but it never came. Instead, Freycinet walked unsteadily over to me leaning on Holmes’ arm and took my hand.

“You have saved my life; if not for your actions I would have continued to trust the man I thought was my friend and would have persistently dismissed the concerns of these gentlemen.

“You risked the noose to bring justice and save my life; therefore I pardon you from your previous crimes against our country and hope sincerely that you never return to the path of crime you once trod. You saved my life and so I will spare yours. My thanks to you, Madame Moriarty.”

“Just Red please, no more Moriarty,” I smiled, feeling the most intoxicating sense of relief and freedom.

Red Moriarty was gone forever. I was just Red once more, no husband to define me. The spell was finally broken.

The French police set off to arrest Moriarty for arranging the murder of the guard at the Louvre, the private secretary in the Charleston ruby case, the theft of the Charleston ruby and finally for arranging to have the French Prime Minister assassinated too.

Watson and Jude agreed to escort Freycinet home while Holmes and I travelled with the police chief to the bank where Holmes’ file of evidence was kept in a deposit box. We agreed to reconvene with Jude and Watson at Gare de Lyon to catch a train for Belgium that night, once the evidence was handed over and Moriarty safely in custody.

Knowing that his agents were still at large we decided to travel across Europe for a few weeks until the police, both in France and England, had rounded up as many of my old employees as possible.

Holmes and I received word that Moriarty had been arrested and, waiting at the station for the arrival of our dearest friends, looked forward to celebrating a great victory together. One of us was destined to be very disappointed.

Unknown to us as we stood on the platform giddy with success, Moriarty had escaped from police custody. His evil tentacles extended to within the French police force and, though the officials in his pay could do nothing to help him avoid sentence against the weight of such evidence, they could help him to escape.

He had been arrested in his rooms at Freycinet’s residence and headed back after evading justice to collect vital papers and belongings.

Jude and Watson stood on the balcony of Freycinet’s grand study, looking out over Paris all aglitter against the dark night sky. They had always felt a degree of kinship. Both knew what it was like to have a friend whose personality overshadowed their own but who had given them adventure beyond their dreams.

They looked down to the quiet, dark street below and saw nothing save a few men gathered at the far end.

“You know, it’s funny,” said Jude. “I know the police have taken the professor but I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. I mean, I’m sure one of those men out there just gave a signal. Clearly I’m paranoid.”

“What do you mean a signal?” inquired Watson.

“Sometimes the professor would come out on a job with us and for such occasions we had a hand signal.”

He made the signal to Watson in order to demonstrate.

“It was a warning to other associates that he was with us and everything had to be perfect. Like a way of indicating him without having to say his name.”

Time was passing. They needed to leave the residence to reach us at the station in time to catch the train to Belgium.

Jude finally said to Watson;

“You go ahead. I’m starving, haven’t eaten for days. I’ll just grab something quick from the kitchens. I have a few loose ends to tie up. I’ll meet you at the station.”

He smiled his broad, boyish grin and patted Watson on the shoulder before bouncing off towards the kitchens.

Watson bid farewell to Freycinet and left. He started to walk through the streets looking for transport but couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. Then, standing in the middle of a busy Parisian street, the truth of the ruse finally dawned on him.

Jude was not mistaken about the hand signal and knew this full well. Watson realised it now and panicked. He raced through the traffic, dodging to avoid horses, carriages, pedestrians, all clogging the busy streets. He pushed people aside as he ran back to Freycinet’s residence praying he was in time.

He reached the side street they had been watching from the window. Panting heavily, he could see someone struggling in the dim light with two men. From the shadows crept a curiously frail figure with a bent back leaning on a cane. His head twitched from side to side. He approached the struggling figure, raised his weapon and the sound of gunfire pierced the night as the victim was hit in the chest. He fell to the cobbles of a dirty Parisian backstreet.

The attackers leapt into a waiting carriage and sped away as Watson ran to the figure lying on the ground, knowing in his heart that it was Jude.

He ripped at my dear friend’s clothes but there was no hope. The close-range shot had torn through his chest. Already blood was pumping out onto the cobbles.

Jude opened his eyes wide and grabbed Watson’s bloodied hands.

“Go, please, the train, go! They know where she is; get the train, all of you.”

Jude clawed despairingly at Watson’s face, imploring him to leave.

“Too late, too late for me. Get her on the train. Tell her, tell her I love her. Always, tell her please, tell her she saved me. Protect her because I don’t think he will. Sherlock Holmes will only let her down in the end.”

His head fell back.

“I promise,” the doctor whispered.

He gently closed Jude’s eyelids and placed his coat over my precious friend’s lifeless body. Then he ran like a man possessed to reach Gare de Lyon before Moriarty.

Chapter Twelve

I noticed Watson first; I saw him run onto the crowded platform just as the train approached in a cloud of steam. By the time Holmes noticed, Moriarty’s men already had a hold of him.

Amid the clamour to get on board, no-one else saw the cold, hard metal pressed into Watson’s neck. Holmes had started to move towards him and had been spotted. I managed to lose myself in the crowd and advance surreptitiously.

Neither of us was armed except for a scalpel I had stolen from a trolley in the hospital.

I stood between two carriages and noticed a small ladder. I climbed it, hoping that in the confusion no-one would notice as I scrambled onto the roof.

I snaked along until I was level with the men trying to drag Watson off the platform. I leapt from the carriage roof and plunged my scalpel between the shoulder blades of the man holding him. He dropped to the ground and I grabbed his weapon.

Holmes punched the other attacker hard enough to knock him unconscious. More men were running towards us now from the other end of the platform and the train was starting to move. I noticed for the first time that Watson’s shirt and hands had blood on them which was curious as he didn’t seem to be wounded.

“Where’s Jude?” I asked, looking about me for my faithful friend. Watson exchanged a look with Holmes and sickness flooded my stomach.

“We have to board the train, it’s about to leave,” Holmes insisted, taking hold of my arm.

I was panicking, my hands started to shake uncontrollably.

“Answer me, damn you! Where is he?” I demanded, grabbing Watson and shaking him. He looked to Holmes for support as the guard blew his whistle and the train doors were slammed shut.

Holmes pulled at my arm.

“I’m sorry Red but we must get on this train.”

The professor’s men were nearly upon us and the train was starting to move away from the platform.

“Come on!” Holmes shouted, pulling harder. Watson took my other arm and they both dragged me towards the train. Holmes managed to open a carriage door and we ran along side it briefly before leaping on, leaving Moriarty’s men stranded on the platform.

We tumbled into an empty compartment. I was demanding answers that I didn’t really want to hear.

“That’s his blood isn’t it? Oh my God, it’s his blood!” I cried, grabbing at Watson’s shirt.

“I am truly sorry, I was too late. There was nothing I could do. I arrived at the Freycinet residence as Moriarty shot him.”

“Just tell me one thing,” I said, looking deep into Watson’s eyes to be sure of the truth. “Did he die alone?”

“I promise you that I stayed with him until the end.” His voice faltered. “He asked me to tell you that he loved you, always will and that you saved him. He made me promise to come straight to the station and get you on this train.”

I felt emotionally overwhelmed and claustrophobic.

“Need to be alone,” I said steadily, my hand on the compartment door.

I slammed the door behind me and started to run along the corridor as if physical action could somehow soothe the emotional pain.