The Wilhelm Conspiracy (A Sherlock Holmes and Lucy James Mystery) Read online

  He stopped, holding me by the lapels just above the floor. “Now. Where is the jewel box?”

  Desperate, I tried to reason with him. “You must have orders not to harm me. The Kaiser himself wants my medical opinion.”

  “I am tired of following orders. We are alone. And I want the simple pleasure of watching you suffer and die. Where is the jewel box?”

  “I cannot tell you what I do not know.”

  “We know of your meetings with Gruen yesterday.”

  “He struck me from behind. I would hardly call that a meeting.”

  “You gave him fifty thousand gold marks.”

  “Actually he took them and gave nothing in return.”

  “He met with you in your room last night.”

  “He still gave me nothing.”

  He smirked once more. “That is what I hoped you would say. Now you are of no further use to us.”

  Above me was a great dome with colourful scenes of Roman gods and goddesses cavorting with unicorns and other mythological creatures. Beside me, hot vapours rose from the surface of the shining pool water. He was walking sideways, pulling me towards the edge. My arms and legs dangled limply as he dragged me along, no doubt the waning effects of whatever sedative had been in the drink, though I could feel my strength returning. A plan was slowly forming in my befogged mind. We moved inexorably towards the deadly waters until the skin on my cheeks was in pain from the force of the heat. Then just as he tightened his grip, about to fling me into the scalding waters, I grasped the lapels of his coat and held on for dear life.

  He swung around, but he was thrown off balance by my unexpected weight. We spun around in a bizarre dance. Then when he was beside the pool, I lashed outwards and upwards with both arms, breaking his hold on me. Then I fell to the floor, kicking out at his thigh. Overbalanced, he toppled into the scalding waters, hitting the surface with a great splash. I heard his scream of pain as he came to the surface.

  I did not see him climb out, for I was already running towards the front entry door as rapidly as I could manage. I burst through into the brightly lit entry foyer, and then out into the night air. From above me, electric lights flooded the plaza, turning the concrete white.

  On the plaza, Holmes and Tesla stood alone.

  37. A STRUGGLE IN DARKNESS

  Both men stared at me in surprise as I came running up before them, stumbling and breathless. “They told us you had been brought back to the Villa Stephanie,” said Holmes. He was holding his pocket watch.

  “Richter is inside,” I managed to gasp. “He is injured. I am all right.”

  “The Colonel and his men are within earshot. The time is precisely seven twenty-five.” Holmes indicated a taxicab stand halfway down the block. “You had best wait elsewhere. Later you can tell us what happened.”

  I walked away, hoping that my interference had not been seen by whoever had ordered the meeting with Holmes and Tesla. I walked towards the taxi stand, away from the lights, hoping that no one was following me. Then I waited, glancing at my own pocket watch from time to time. As I waited, the hollow feeling that had possessed me when I had first awakened now returned. I was certain I had done something wrong that could not be undone.

  Ought I to tell Holmes?

  My watch read eight fifteen when I heard Holmes call for the Colonel. Obviously the meeting was not going to take place.

  Joining the three men, I explained what had happened in the Friedrichsbad. The Colonel appeared to listen attentively. When I had concluded, he said, “Allow me to go over your statement to be certain I have correctly understood. You say a woman drugged you. What then?”

  “There was a doctor. He said his name was Olfrig.”

  Holmes’s eyes glittered. The Colonel appeared puzzled. He said, “There is no doctor at the Friedrichsbad who answers to that name.”

  “I believe he is from another facility,” said Holmes. “In Bad Homburg.”

  “You say that he asked you questions. What were they?”

  “He said he had questions. But that is all I remember of him.”

  “Then you awoke to find the same assailant who had attacked you in Dover and again in Bad Homburg. He threatened to injure you by throwing you into the thermal bathing pool.”

  “He kept asking the location of the jewel box. He said he knew I had met with Gruen, who I believe is the man who struck me from behind yesterday. I kept telling him that I had no idea. I did not tell him that you were here.”

  “He is called Richter,” said Holmes, “according to his diplomatic identity papers. He is nearly seven feet tall, and he will have been injured by scalding water.” He turned to the Colonel. “Your men might look for him at the local hospital.”

  “We shall handle the matter, Herr Holmes, competently and swiftly. Already I have ordered my men to search the interior of the Friedrichsbad.”

  “Take me home,” Tesla said.

  We continued the conversation with the Colonel as we walked in the direction of the Villa Stephanie. The Colonel had lit his petrol torch. In its flickering light his face was shadowed and emotionless. “You blame me for suggesting that we accompany you and Tesla. I in turn could readily blame Dr. Watson for making himself so highly visible just before the meeting was to occur.”

  “Dr. Watson, in turn, could readily blame you for the attacks he has undergone,” said Holmes.

  The Colonel’s expression remained impassive. “I am of the opinion that there was never to be a meeting at all. It is plain to me that the writer of the letters intends to keep both the money and the jewel box. He ordered you and Tesla and the two ladies to go to various locations at this time merely to create a delay, giving him opportunity to leave the area. He paid Gruen to be his accomplice and retrieve the money. He now has his fifty thousand gold marks, the jewel box, and also the advantage of darkness.”

  “Or perhaps Gruen was the mastermind and Richter the accomplice. Or perhaps the two had a falling out, after their dispute in Bad Homburg,” said Holmes. “Or there is yet another purpose that we do not yet understand.”

  “All possible, of course. But not entirely useful, Herr Holmes.”

  We walked on. Holmes went ahead. The Colonel dropped back to join Tesla and his military escorts. I fell into conversation with Lucy as she walked beside me. We began to go over the details of the case after she had satisfied herself that I was unharmed, though I found it difficult to concentrate. My sense that I had made a disastrous mistake still troubled me. I wondered again whether I ought to tell Lucy, or tell Holmes. But I did not see how merely voicing such a vague fear would help, and in truth, I had to admit I was embarrassed that I had been so easily manipulated. The feeling might very well have been the remnants of the drug, I finally decided. Whatever I had done was done. I ought to keep my dark moods within myself and thank my lucky stars for being able to escape from Richter and the scalding waters of the Friedrichsbad.

  Lucy’s voice intruded on my musings. “I had no luck at all in the hotel. No one answered my knock at room 504. I went up to 604 and knocked there, but no one answered either. The clerk at the desk said both rooms were empty. Harriet wasn’t in the lobby, and she didn’t answer when I knocked at her door. So I came here.”

  “I was to go to the Trinkhalle at 7:30. Of course I did not.”

  “Probably would have been a fool’s errand anyway.” She thought for a moment. “Did Gruen say how he would communicate with you?”

  “Only that it would be before midnight. He did not say how.”

  “Does he know of Harriet and me?”

  “He said he followed me to the hotel. He must have seen you both.”

  “Then possibly he has already communicated with Harriet. Maybe she went with him.”

  As we approached the Villa Stephanie, I could see the illuminated windows of some of the rooms within the tall, shadowy outline of the building. Other rooms were dark. Then I felt Lucy’s hand on my arm. She was staring intently upwards at the top of the build
ing. Light shone from behind the balcony of one of the upper rooms.

  On that balcony two shadowy figures were locked in combat, each struggling to gain the advantage over the other.

  “That is my balcony!” cried Tesla.

  The shadows twisted and writhed behind the bars of the balcony railing, grappling with one another like two wrestlers in a ring. Now they were inside the room; now outside on the balcony. One of them pressed the other against the low iron bars. Then suddenly he pushed himself backwards and away. He kicked out quickly, swinging his leg in a short, sharp arc. The other figure slumped, stunned by the blow. The man who had kicked him bent over and lifted him upwards. The inert figure toppled over the balcony rail and the next moment vanished into the darkness. An instant later we heard a horrible muffled cracking sound. I knew it must be flesh and bone, colliding with the hard and unyielding surface of the earth.

  We ran. The Colonel and Holmes reached the hotel before us. When we arrived, they were holding their lanterns above the body of a man. The body lay facing upwards, twisted and lifeless like a discarded rag doll. It was the man who had called himself Mr. Gruen, the man who had told me that he would be our only ally.

  38. A NEW DEMAND

  Beside the body, on one knee, Holmes gently tugged at a neatly folded paper that protruded like a kerchief from the breast pocket of Gruen’s swallowtail coat. He said, “It is the same paper as the other letters, with the same block capital printing. It reads, ‘Tesla’s room. 7:30.’”

  Above us, I could hear balcony doors being opened, and then after a few moments, hushed voices, followed by the sounds of the same doors being closed. One of the Colonel’s men had gone for help to the nearby police headquarters. Another had gone into the hotel and now emerged carrying blankets. “We must cover him and move him away,” said the Colonel.

  “The man responsible may still be in the hotel,” said Holmes. “You should station soldiers at the entrances. Look for men with gloves. Underneath may be telltale abrasions on the knuckles.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “We must not disturb the other guests with this.”

  Tesla said, “I cannot stay here.” Holding his arms tightly folded against his chest and rocking back and forth, he went on, “I must have another room. I shall not sleep at all after what has happened.”

  “We shall procure for you a new suite,” said the Colonel, his tone reassuring. “First we will go to your old one and you can pack your belongings. Herr Holmes, you will accompany us, yes?”

  Holmes nodded. “The rooms may contain clues to the identity of Mr. Gruen’s attacker.”

  “I want to visit Harriet’s room,” said Lucy. “If she does not answer, I want to enter with a key.” Lucy agreed that we should investigate Tesla’s suite first, however, since it had been the scene of the crime we had just witnessed.

  Two of the Colonel’s men were now stationed at the door. They stepped back to admit us. “Please allow me to accompany you, Mr. Tesla,” said Holmes. “We can go through the rooms and their contents together. If something appears to have been disturbed, I would be grateful if you called it to my attention.”

  Lucy and I waited in the doorway as Holmes and Tesla inspected the sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. From our vantage point, other than the door to the balcony being open, nothing about Tesla’s suite appeared to be out of the ordinary. We heard drawers and cabinets being opened and shut. Not long afterwards, they emerged. From their impassive faces we knew that no new knowledge had been gained.

  Leaving Tesla to await the arrival of a maid who would help him to pack, Holmes, Lucy, and I walked down the corridor to the stairs. “Please pay close attention,” Holmes said. “Mr. Gruen’s attacker most likely made his exit down these stairs. He may have dropped something in his haste to get away.”

  We followed the stairs to the ground floor, and then to the door leading to the hotel lobby. Once again, however, our efforts were to no avail. We found nothing of value to our investigation.

  In the lobby we asked the clerk whether he had seen anyone coming from the staircase. He had not. “But there is a message for you, Mr. Holmes,” he said, pulling a heavy envelope from one of the pigeonhole compartments on the wall behind him. The envelope bore no writing.

  “Who delivered this?” asked Holmes, taking the envelope.

  “A Mr. Gruen. He particularly instructed me to tell you that name.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Portly, round faced, neatly attired, probably around forty years of age. He wore a swallowtail coat and carried a silk top hat.”

  Holmes’s eyes glittered. He tore open the envelope and held up a key. “This is the key to room 403 at this hotel. There is no message.”

  “That’s Harriet’s room,” Lucy said.

  There was no answer when we knocked at the door. We opened it with the key. Entering, we saw that the room appeared to be in perfect order. The bed had been turned down for the night.

  A white envelope lay on the centre of the smooth white bedspread. Holmes picked it up and showed it to us. The envelope was addressed, “To Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” The letters were the familiar block capitals written in black ink.

  Holmes opened the envelope. Wordlessly, he held up the brief message written on the page inside.

  HER RANSOM IS ONE MILLION POUNDS. DELIVER IN BEARER BONDS BY TEN A.M. TOMORROW OR SHE DIES.

  39. A NEW DIRECTION

  The Colonel appeared to be as astonished as we were. “I cannot believe the audacity of this demand. They do not say where the ransom is to be delivered. And how can they expect anyone to obtain such an enormous sum?” He looked at Holmes. “Unless the lady comes from a family of great wealth?”

  “Quite the contrary,” Holmes replied. “And to assemble such an amount here before ten o’clock tomorrow morning would seem to be entirely impossible. I shall have to send a telegram to London immediately. I must also alert Lord Radnar. Please excuse me.”

  And with that he left us.

  I struggled to understand the message we had just seen. Surely the specific sum of one million pounds and the specific medium of bearer bonds could not be a coincidence. The writer of the demand must have intended us to make the connection to the affair of the past November, the one for which the banker named Kent had recently been tortured and killed. Holmes had referred to that incident in the presence of Wilhelm and von Bülow less than forty-eight hours earlier. Wilhelm had both denied any knowledge of the incident and promised to forget it. Did this demand indicate that Wilhelm had changed his mind and was flagrantly breaking his promise?

  Lucy was surveying the room, opening drawers and cabinets in a determined manner, and then shutting them again. The Colonel and I did the same. We drew back the balcony curtains and opened the door, but found nothing there either. After several minutes, Lucy stopped and sat down on the sofa. “It’s just like Gruen’s room,” she said. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “She may have known her abductor,” said the Colonel. “She may have gone voluntarily.”

  “Gruen obviously knew about this. He was the one who left the key to this room in the envelope for Holmes,” Lucy said. “But he was a stranger to Harriet. Why would she have gone voluntarily with him?”

  Standing beside the sofa where Lucy was seated, I happened to glance down between the sofa and the far wall. I saw an object there. My heartbeat surged with excitement as I reached down and pulled a woman’s leather handbag from behind the sofa.

  “That is Harriet’s handbag,” Lucy said.

  “Perhaps she did not leave voluntarily after all,” I said. “Perhaps she hid this and intended us to find it.”

  I handed Lucy the handbag, and she sat on the sofa to open it.

  Holmes entered the room, carrying a black silk top hat. “I have sent my two telegrams,” he said. Handing the top hat to the Colonel, he continued, “I believe this to be Mr. Gruen’s hat, which I asked one of your men to retrieve from the hotel cloakroom. You will
recall that the clerk mentioned that Mr. Gruen wore a hat, yet we saw that he was not wearing it when he fell, and we did not find it in Tesla’s rooms.”

  The Colonel nodded. “We have found Miss Radnar’s handbag.”

  “It contains a note,” Lucy said, unfolding a cream-coloured paper. “It is dated yesterday morning.” She read aloud:

  “My dear Harriet, I do not wish to encourage false expectations. My professional career demands me to travel where the performances are most readily to be had, and the relationships needed to obtain those performances, combined with the demands of a performer’s schedule, simply do not allow for the sort of I life I know you want and which you most certainly deserve. Please accept my apologies for whatever pain this message may cause you. You are a wonderful young person and I wish for you a wonderful future. Adrian.”

  “Is there an envelope?” asked Holmes.

  “There is not.”

  “Do you recognize Mr. Arkwright’s handwriting?”

  “I have not seen his handwriting before.”

  “We can ask Mr. Arkwright. What else is in the purse?”

  Lucy named each item as she removed it.

  “Here are two tickets for the Paris theatre in which the company is to perform next week. I have two myself. They are complimentary tickets for us to give to friends and acquaintances. Here also is a blue silk scarf. This is not the one she wore when we last saw her. That one was purple. Here is the cosmetic compact with the powder she uses on her face. Finally here is her notebook with her sketches. Here is a sketch of Mr. Tesla. Here is one of the Trinkhalle. Evidently she used her time this afternoon to go out and see the sights.”

  “That is all?” asked Holmes.

  Lucy nodded. “No secret compartment. Nothing sewn into the lining.” She remained seated, holding the sketchbook and looking at the sad little array of items she had spread out on the sofa. “I feel as though I ought to have been here to protect Harriet.”