Showing posts with label 2b. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2b. Show all posts

Chapter 21: The Front Row Of An Ancient Empire

Previous: Unthinkable

Beaumaris Castle
With the Irish Sea on our right, we rolled west through Penmaenmawr and LLanfairfechan.

"If you look across the water, you can begin to catch glimpses of the Isle of Anglesey," said my friend.

"We're coming upon the Menai Strait," Sherlock Holmes continued, "which separates Anglesey from mainland Wales. The northern end of the strait was once guarded on the Anglesey side by Beaumaris Castle, a very ambitious bit of military architecture, which, though never finished, is still enormously imposing -- and was even more so in its time."

"I've never seen so many castles, Holmes," I said.

"There's a reason for them, Watson," he replied. "Centuries ago, before the great sailing ships made intercontinental colonization a feasible ambition, this northern edge of Wales was the front row of an empire. English kings, notably Edward I, spent enormous sums trying to conquer the rebellious Welsh, and these castles may be the most vivid reminders of those times that we still have today.

"But to appreciate them, you have to get behind the fairy tales. It wasn't all about princes and princesses, Watson. These castles were military bases, providing safe havens for occupying armies.

"Some of the dungeons and torture chambers were very well-used," he continued. "The English were ruthless in putting down Welsh insurrections."

Bangor University
The train continued to roll, through Talybont and into Bangor, where Gareth Williams had attended the University -- beginning part-time at the age of 13, and emerging with a first-class degree just four years later.

"Gareth Williams must have been an amazing youngster, and his childhood must have been most unusual, at least by the standards of his peers," I suggested. "How many of them were destined for university at all, let alone so young?

"It would have taken a toll on his parents," I continued. "They must have been very proud of him, and pleased by his success, but having a son leave home so soon would be difficult for most families, I should think."

Holmes seemed lost in thought and did not reply. Soon we crossed the Menai Strait onto Anglesey via the Britannia bridge, and found ourselves at a little village with an impossible name: Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.

Two bridges cross the Menai Strait.
The name is not authentic Welsh: it was "artificially contrived in the 1860s" to give the station the longest name of any in the U.K. Unlike some of the passengers, we did not stop to have our photographs taken next to the sign. And, if my eyes weren't fooling me, Holmes was beginning to grow impatient.

"St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near to the rapid whirlpool of Llantysilio of the red cave?" he said. "What kind of name is that for a little village?"

The train rolled on through Bodorgan, then Ty Croes and Rhosneigr. "We're almost to Valley now, Watson. Gareth Williams would have taken this train ride many times on his way home from the university."

I felt another sudden chill as I realized how precisely we were following in the dead man's path. But it passed quickly. We rolled through Valley, where Gareth Williams' parents live, and across a causeway onto Holy Island. "This is it," Holmes announced. "We'll be in Holyhead in just a few minutes.

Holyhead as seen from the railway station
"I've made reservations at a hotel near the station, Watson," he said. "That will be our base of operations for the immediate future."

"What are you hoping to find here?" I asked.

"I don't care what we find," Holmes replied. "I just want to know more about him. Other than a brilliant mathematician and an avid cyclist, who was he? Was he an evil man who may have been killed for a good reason? Or was he a good man who was killed for an evil reason? We may never find out in London, Watson. But we can hardly avoid learning something here."

"Do you suppose this young Welshman was planning his own insurrection?" I asked.

"That is one of the scenarios I am currently considering," the great detective answered. "If so, his rebellion was certainly put down in a most brutal fashion."

As we carried our luggage to the cab that would take us to the hotel, I could feel the chills in my spine returning once again. They did not go away for a long time.

Postcards from Beaumaris Castle:
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Next: A Powerful Message

Chapter 22: A Powerful Message


A train arrives at Holyhead Station
We arrived at the hotel too early to check in, and the desk clerk became a bit flustered when he couldn't find any evidence of Holmes having made a reservation. But he promised to have rooms ready for us in an hour, and suggested that we pass the time in the dining room, where lunch was being served.

No sooner had we had placed our order than Holmes excused himself. "I have to make a call, Watson," he explained. "I'll return before the food arrives."

He was wrong about that. The service was very prompt, and my friend arrived at the same time as our lunch. "I've just spoken with William Hughes," he said. "Fortunately, he is free this afternoon, and I expect him to join us shortly."

As we ate, I asked him about the series from The First Post which he had mentioned on the train.

"It's hard to know whether or not Nigel Horne was sent in to clean up after Jack Bremer, but that was the effect," he said. "Interestingly, to the best of my recollection, Bremer was the first -- maybe the only -- published writer to hint that the gay-sex 'items' may have been planted, and Horne was one of very few who had the nerve to admit that the 'stories' about them must have been planted. So, in a sense, The First Post is ahead of the curve."

"You mentioned a series. Was there more?" I inquired.

"Oh yes. The next arrow in this quiver was fired by an 'intelligence analyst' by the name of Crispin Black," said Holmes. "He doesn't draw many logical conclusions either, but the points he makes are instructive in themselves."

"How so?"

"For one thing, he's under no delusion about whether or not Gareth Williams was murdered," said my friend. "In fact he concludes by saying
whoever killed Williams has killed before.
"Interesting, no? And undoubtedly correct. But he's got some very twisted analysis along the way, including the contention that
the disposal of the body was interrupted
"-- for which he provides no evidence whatsoever. He tries to make it seem the only reasonable possibility, writing
If you find a neatly packed suitcase by the door it is because someone is about to leave - ­ someone efficient. If you find a body in a padlocked bag in a bath, then what you see is what you get. The body is in a bag because it's going somewhere and it's in the bath because once it has been removed it is easy to destroy any forensic residue.
"This may be true," said Holmes, "but it is very far from proven, and it is not difficult to formulate an alternative explanation of the crime which fits the facts at least as well as the tale told by Mr. Crispin Black."

"Where do you think he's gone wrong?" I asked.

"Where he says 'the disposal of the body was interrupted,'" said Holmes. "How could anyone  in a 'safe house' be interrupted? What happened? Did someone walk in through the door? Who? The occupant? No, it couldn't have been him! But who else could open that door?

"Suppose somebody had come in while the killer was trying to dispose of the body. What could have happened then? How did the killer manage to get away, leaving behind a body that wouldn't be discovered for a week or more? The entire notion is utterly preposterous!"

"What alternative explanations are there?" I asked.

"Nobody to my knowledge has even considered the possibility I think most likely," said Holmes, "namely: that the body was left in the bathtub because it was intended to be found there!"

"Found there?" I gasped.

"Exactly as it has transpired," said my friend.

"But why would they deliberately leave a body behind?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be much safer for the killers if the body had been made to disappear?"

"As I read it, Watson," said Holmes, "the killers were not at all concerned about their own safety. Nobody would even contemplate such an audacious crime unless they were confident they wouldn't be caught. On the contrary, it appears that the body was left behind because it was meant to be discovered!"

"And the story hasn't been suppressed because --"

"It was meant to be read, Watson. Like a severed head on a lamppost, the body in the bag sends a powerful message. But to whom? And what does it mean? These are questions we need to answer," the detective said.

William Hughes arrived just as we were ordering dessert, and he agreed to join us for coffee and a pastry. "We don't have rooms yet," Holmes explained, "but soon we shall have a comfortable, and private, place where we can talk."

"If you please, sir," William Hughes began, "may I suggest another place, equally comfortable but much more private?"

Thus began a conversation which led us to cancel our reservations, much to the dismay of the flustered clerk, and join the Hughes family for a visit.

Next: Damages

Chapter 23: Damages


The Williams family at Gareth's funeral
"We've invited Ellen and Ian for dinner -- neither of them are in any shape to cook so soon after the funeral, sir -- and I am sure they would be very pleased to meet you," said William Hughes as he drove us away from the hotel.

"I had been hoping they would be up to seeing us," Holmes replied. "How have they been these last few days?"

"It's been a horrible time for everyone, sir," William Hughes answered. "But they're holding up as well as can be expected. There's a sense of closure about a burial, and in an odd way it can be somewhat comforting -- especially when it happens so long after the death. But at the same time there's a terrible sense of finality, and I think they'll be needing as much support as we can give them for a long time, Mr. Holmes."

"I have some news which may help matters somewhat," offered Holmes to my surprise, but then he announced he would say no more about the case without them.

After a short drive, we found ourselves at the home of William Hughes, of Trefor, near Bodedern.

We were enjoying a quick look at the Hughes family farm when Gareth Williams' parents arrived, at which point Hughes broke off the tour to introduce us to his cousin and her husband. Holmes and I expressed our condolences, the grieving parents thanked us most sincerely for looking into the case, and Hughes led us into his study, where we could sit and talk while dinner was being prepared.

"What can we do to help you, Mr. Holmes?" Ian Williams asked.

"I want you to tell to me about Gareth," Holmes replied. "I would also like to meet some other people who knew him -- especially any teachers who might remember him well, and his old school-mate, Dylan Parry."

"Oh, no, sir, I'm afraid you have that bit wrong," said Ian Williams. "Dylan and Gareth weren't school-mates. They knew each other from the train."

"From the train?" Holmes asked.

"Yes sir," Ian Williams replied. "Dylan used to ride the train between Holyhead and Bangor, where he was studying -- theology, if I recall."

"Divinity, I think," said Ellen.

"Yes, that's right," continued her husband. "Gareth met Dylan on the train, and as far as I know, he never saw him anywhere else. But he spoke of him quite often, and very fondly. Gareth described Dylan as a fine young man, and a very agreeable traveling companion. But they were never school-mates, sir."

"Where is Dylan Parry now? Do you happen to know?" my friend inquired.

"Why, I believe he's in London, Mr. Holmes," said Ian Williams.

"London? London??" cried Holmes, turning to William Hughes. "What sort of detective have you brought in here?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at Holmes' mocking reference to himself. The great detective tried to keep a straight face, but it was no use, and soon we were all laughing.

"Thank you so much, sir," said Ellen Williams. "That was the first time I've laughed in a month."

"You'll laugh again, Mrs. Williams," said my friend, "I promise. Time heals -- even such a wound as this."

There was silence for a moment before Holmes continued. "I should know better than to trust the London papers about anything," he said. "They all give the impression that Dylan and Gareth attended school together. But that's not the only misleading impression they have given."

Mr. and Mrs. Williams both rolled their eyes, but Holmes said, "Ironic as it may seem, the lies that have been printed about Gareth could do two important things for us."

"How so, Mr. Holmes?" William Hughes inquired.

"First, they may lead us to the killer," Holmes replied. "That's an angle Dr. Watson and I will explore further, even if the police do not. But there's also an angle the family may wish to explore."

"And what is that, Mr. Holmes?" Ian Williams asked.

"These lies could be worth millions to you," my friend replied. "In the hands of a good attorney, it should be possible to obtain ample compensation for some of your trauma."

"What makes you think so, sir?" asked William Hughes. 

"Four years ago," Holmes explained, "the so-called 'Liquid Bombers' were arrested. Do you remember that?"

We all nodded, and Holmes continued, "Several of the major dailies made a mistake, incorrectly stating that a certain Amjad Sarwar had been arrested -- but it was his brother, Assad Sarwar, who was arrested; Amjad Sarwar was not. For falsely claiming that Amjad had been arrested and released without charges, the papers which carried this story paid a settlement in six figures.

"Then another man -- the father of one of those who were arrested in London -- was reportely detained for questioning. But then it turned out that he hadn't been detained at all, and he received another six-figure settlement.

"In both cases, the papers involved were forced to print retractions, and they settled for damages out of court, giving hundreds of thousands to family members of alleged terrorists, about whom falsehoods had been published, once only, and apparently by accident.

"Contrast that with the false stories which have been published repeatedly, and with obvious malice, about Gareth, who was never accused of anything, and who has been described as a hero of the war against terror. I should think the papers which printed those stories would be more than willing to settle out of court -- on very generous terms indeed."

"It wouldn't bring Gareth back," said Ellen Williams.

"Of course not," said Holmes, "but on the other hand, you could probably use the money. Would you like to travel? Are you tired of getting up and going to work every day? A harsh penalty would serve these liars right, and I would be elated to see it happen -- to your benefit.

"The choice is yours," Holmes continued. "But if you don't wish to pursue it, I'm sure nobody else will."

Chapter 24: Ian And Ellen Williams

Previous: Damages

Gareth Williams got his kicks on his bicycle.
"You don't need to make any snap decisions," said Sherlock Holmes. "The lies are not going away anytime soon. But there are a few other things that we should do now, while we're here together."

"What can we do to help you, sir?" asked Ian Williams.

"Tell me about Gareth," he said, turning to the parents. "Other than a competitive cyclist and a wizard at maths, what sort of man was he?"

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Holmes," said William Hughes, "I'm sure Ellen and Ian can answer all your questions about Gareth, and in the meantime I might be able to set up an interview with one or more of the people you would like to meet. Shall I make a few calls and see what I can arrange?"

"Please," said the detective. "That's an excellent idea."

"Gareth was a lovely young man," said Ellen Williams when Hughes had departed, "very bright, very kind and friendly. He caused us no trouble, sir."

"Did he cause trouble elsewhere?" Holmes asked.

"None that we know of, sir," replied his mother. "He was almost too busy to cause trouble in school. He was small for his age, and he spent most of his school years in classes full of older students, so there wasn't really anyone for him to pick on, even if he had been the type. But he wasn't, sir. He just wanted to read and learn, and to advance through the curriculum as quickly as he could."

"Did he have trouble getting along in school?" Holmes inquired.

"In some ways he was a child among adults, sir," said his mother. "But in other ways he was a like genius among idiots! So there were always obstacles between Gareth and other, 'normal' people. Later, when he took a top-secret job, there was another obstacle -- he could never say anything about his work. So he was always at a disadvantage when it came to making small talk, and sometimes keeping a conversation going seemed beyond him.

"But he wasn't sad, or bitter, or lonely, or anything like that. He understood that his gifts set him apart from other people, but he learned to connect with us on our level, sir."

"What sort of things would make him angry?" Holmes asked.

"He didn't like to be cheated, sir," said Ian Williams. "And he didn't like to see anyone else cheated, either."

"What did he do for fun when he wasn't in school?"

"He loved music, sir," said Ellen Williams, "and he loved to ride his bicycle."

"Other than the bicycle, how else did he play? Think back -- even as a young child, did he ever play at being confined?" asked Holmes.

"No sir," said his father, "he didn't like being trapped. This is one of the things that make us so certain that the stories in the papers are all wrong. The idea that anyone would allow himself to be locked inside a bag for kicks is preposterous, but for someone like Gareth, who got his kicks on a bicycle? Never! Just never!!

"He loved the open skies, the long, beautiful views, the thrill of working his body hard, and breathing hard, and moving fast under his own power. It's impossible to imagine that he would ever allow anyone to lock him into a bag for kicks, sir."

"Did he ever tell you about what he did for a living?" Holmes asked.

"Only that it was secret and had to do with breaking codes," said Ian Williams.

"Do you know anything about the exam he failed just before he left Cambridge?"

"No, sir," said his mother.

"Did he ever talk to you about his decision to drop out of school?"

"No, he didn't," said his father. "He didn't want to talk about it at all."

"Had he ever failed a math exam before?"

"Not that we knew of, sir," his mother replied.

"I would be surprised if he ever failed anything," said Holmes. "It seems to me more likely that this 'failed exam' is the beginning of the legend that was built for him by his employers."

"What do you mean by that, sir?" asked Ian Williams.

"In intelligence terminology, 'legends' are false stories under which people live clandestine lives," said Holmes. "Agents working illegally in foreign countries need elaborate legends, some of which are developed over years. For someone like Gareth, less work would be expended on creating a legend, but he would still need an answer to the question of why he left Cambridge.

"From the 'national security' point of view, it would be far better to have him telling people, 'I failed an exam and dropped out,' than, 'I was recruited to work in British intelligence,' don't you think?"

"You think he was recruited before he left Cambridge?" asked his mother.

"I think he was recruited as soon as he arrived there," said my friend. "MI5 and MI6 have always had their eyes on the Universities at Oxford and Cambridge, as well as schools like Eton. GCHQ is the newcomer but would naturally do the same thing. They're looking for smart, smart-assed rich kids to bring into the service of their country's elite, before they see a bit of the world and figure out what's going on, just in case they have a conscience."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Holmes," said Ian Williams, "but Gareth wasn't rich, nor was he a 'smart-ass.'"

"I didn't mean to imply that he was," said Holmes, "only that he was probably caught in a net that was intended to ensnare others."

Hughes returned with good news. Dinner was almost ready, one of Gareth's former teachers could join us later in the evening, and we could meet Gareth's sister Ceri and her husband Chris, provided we were willing and able to stay overnight.

The setting was so comfortable, and the host so gracious, that we had no trouble accepting the offer.

Chapter 25: A Gift Of Logic


Gareth Williams had a gift of logic,
the abstract core of mathematics
Shortly after dinner, Hughes announced the arrival of Geraint Williams, who had taught Gareth mathematics in secondary school at nearby Bodedern.

"It's an honour to meet you, Mr. Holmes -- and you, Dr. Watson," said the teacher. "I'll be happy to help you however I can, although I cannot imagine what I might be able to tell you that would be of any use. It has been many years since I last saw Gareth, and I have no idea who could have killed him."

"But you knew Gareth, yes? You taught him?" Holmes asked. "We're simply interested in what you observed. Anything you tell us now could potentially be very useful later."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Holmes," said Geraint Williams. "I shall certainly tell you whatever I can."

"What were your first impressions of Gareth Williams?" asked the detective.

"We heard about him before we met him, sir," replied the teacher. "He had done his GCSE in mathematics at primary school and got a B at intermediate level. He took the higher level GCSE a couple of months later, and got an A!"

"So he was proficient at secondary school maths before he even left primary school?" asked Holmes.

 "Indeed," said Geraint Williams. "When he came to us -- a year earlier than normal -- he had already completed the curriculum formerly known as O-levels. We got him to follow A-levels, and he finished A-level maths and computer science in the third form, earning As in both. We had nothing left to offer him, sir. So we contacted Bangor University and Gareth started going there, doing university maths at the age of 13!"

"He must have had a very powerful gift," said Holmes.

"He certainly did," said Geraint Williams. "He had the fastest brain I have ever met."

"I am very interested in the nature of his gift," said Holmes. "Was is exclusively or primarily mathematical?"

"No, sir," replied the teacher. "It showed itself very powerfully in maths, but I think it was more a gift of logic. Gareth may not have been the best mathematician I have ever taught, but I've never seen a better logician, Mr. Holmes."

"Logic being the essence of mathematics," said Holmes, "it is no wonder that he excelled in maths."

"Indeed, sir," said Geraint Williams, "just as he excelled in computer science. He was bound to do very well in any subject with a logical base."

"It must have been a joy to teach him," suggested Holmes.

"It was," said the teacher. "He understood everything so quickly. You never had to explain anything twice to Gareth. And he always remembered what he had learned.

"Because he was so advanced, especially for his age," Williams continued, "teaching him was an enormous challenge. But it's always delightful to have a student who can learn as fast as you can teach, sir."

"If I understand you correctly," said Holmes, "in addition to his gift for logic, he must have had an excellent memory."

"Indeed," agreed Mr. Williams. "He also had very good pattern-recognition skills. If I showed him something once, he would immediately grasp the underlying principle and see how it could be applied to similar situations."

"He might have made a fine detective," suggested my friend.

"And perhaps he did, sir" said his former teacher. "We've all read that he was a code-breaker, and I'm not surprised. It didn't surprise me that he became interested in ciphers, and it didn't surprise me that he was recruited by GCHQ. I've read recently that he was a hero in the war against terror, and I wouldn't doubt that, either. He was an exceptionally bright young man."

"What do you remember about his personality?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"Gareth was a very nice lad," said Geraint Williams, "quiet and unassuming. What a shame!"

"Can you think of any reason why somebody would want to kill him?" asked Holmes.

"Well, sir," said his former teacher, "any war hero is bound to have made enemies."

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