Chapter 81: Dinner For Four

Previous: Preparations

"This very lovely dinner," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat down to enjoy Mrs. Hudson's finest culinary effort, "is a fitting testament to the tireless and inspired work of one of London's finest detectives.

"With his keen investigative skills, finely-tuned insight, and dogged determination, Buckingham Slate could hardly have failed to crack the mystery of 'the spy in the bag,' which had all of England buzzing less than two months ago."

We couldn't help but recognize Holmes' parody of the London press.

"In fact, I've written up a press release to that effect," continued my companion. "If things go well this evening, you can send it out to all the crime reporters tomorrow. Most of them will be happy not having to write anything original, nor to think for themselves."

"Do you mean to say," asked Slate, "that you have found the killer of Gareth Williams?"

"No," said Holmes. "It's not quite as simple as that. But we have reason to believe that Gareth Williams was the victim of a professional operation. In other words, the killers were carrying out orders. And this evening, I believe, you will capture the man who gave those orders."

"Who is he, sir?" asked Slate.

"You'll have to wait and see," replied Holmes.

"How am I going to catch him?" asked Slate.

"By sitting very quietly in my bedroom," said my friend, "and coming out when I call you."

"And the suspect?" protested Slate. "Is he just going to appear out of thin air?"

"No, Bucky," replied Holmes. "He'll come in a cab, just as most of my visitors do."

"Do you have a warrant for his arrest?" asked Slate.

"No, unfortunately," replied my friend. "Nor do we have any evidence of the sort that would compel a judge to issue one."

"Well then," said Slate, "how can I take him in?"

"I believe he will confess," replied Holmes.

"Why would he do that, sir?" continued Slate. "Especially if, as you say, you have no evidence to use against him?"

"If you sit very quietly in my bedroom and listen," replied my friend, "you may find out."

"Well, I'm happy to have cracked the case," said Slate with a grin, "but I still don't understand how I did it. Can you help me a bit with that, Mr. Holmes?"

"The most important thing," replied Holmes, "is that you never gave up. When your prospects seemed bleak, you looked for help. You came to the right place, you put essential information in the hands of those who could use it to your benefit, and now you stand to reap the rewards. Of course, you can't actually say any of that."

"I was thinking the same myself, sir," said Slate. "I can't tell anyone I gave you inside information."

"You needn't mention me at all," replied Holmes. "Just tell them it was always a process of elimination, and never a very difficult one.

"Tell them you worked your way through the forensics reports and determined that this death was not an accident, nor a suicide, but a thoroughly professional hit, likely performed by a very sophisticated intelligence or security service.

"Tell them you made a list of suspects -- all the organisations in the world which, regardless of motive, might be capable of committing such an audacious crime.

"Tell them you looked at your list, and crossed off all the suspects who could not possibly have obtained secure access to the 'safe house' in which the victim lived.

"Tell them you crossed off all those who could not have polluted the press coverage of the case with details so lurid that the police took steps to deny them.

"Tell them you crossed off those who could not have ensured Gareth's employers wouldn't come looking for him, even after he had missed a meeting.

"Tell them you kept eliminating suspects until only one was left, and then you set out to discover who was in command of the only organisation that remained on your list.

"Tell them you knew no underling would ever dare to do mount so audacious an operation without orders from above, so you went straight to the top.

"You can even tell them you set an ingenious trap, into which your man walked without the slightest hesitation.

"Just don't tell them you have enough evidence to ensure a conviction."

"Why not, sir?" asked Slate.

"Because you don't want to exert undue influence in advance of a potential trial," replied Sherlock Holmes.

Next: Coffee And Cigars

Chapter 82: Coffee And Cigars

Previous: Dinner For Four

Mrs. Hudson brought up a tray of coffee.

When we had all finished eating, Mrs. Hudson brought up a tray of coffee. Holmes invited our guests to relax on the couch, and we all paid the landlady friendly compliments as she cleared away the dishes.

"What's in the humidor?" Holmes asked of no one in particular. Then he opened it and handed it to Scott Robinson. Seeing this, I made a point of opening the windows before settling down in an armchair. Holmes waited until we all had cigars, then closed the humidor and put it away before settling into a chair of his own.

"It is just possible," he said, "that I have gauged the entire case incorrectly. It may be that I am wasting your time tonight, gentlemen. We shall find out soon enough. But in the meantime, do enjoy the coffee and cigars."

"I almost forgot to tell you, Mr. Holmes," said Slate, "and it may not even matter, sir. But a couple of interesting details have just come to my attention, and I would be remiss if I failed to share them."

"Please do," replied my friend.

"We have always believed that there are two mysterious couples involved in this case," said Slate, "but that might not be true, sir."

"Oh?" said Holmes. "Pray continue."

"One couple," said Slate, "the so-called 'Mediterranean couple,' were allegedly 'buzzed in' to Gareth's building by a neighbour in June or July, reportedly after claiming to have a key to his flat. Investigators are obviously very interested in the 'Mediterranean couple,' and police artists have even produced e-fits of them.

"The other pair, the so-called 'Holland Park couple,' reportedly met Gareth Williams several times at the back of a cafe near the Holland Park tube station, under circumstances which can only be seen as suspicious. For reasons unknown to me, sir, investigators are not quite as interested in the 'Holland Park couple,' and have not produced e-fits of them. Other than saying that the two couples are different, and that the 'Holland Park couple' are not of 'Mediterranean appearance,' they have said, and apparently learned, nothing of the people who repeatedly met Gareth in the cafe."

"And that cafe would be Patisserie Valerie?" asked Holmes.

"What's in the humidor?"

"Precisely, sir," replied Slate. "That's the background. Now here are the interesting parts. The officers who interviewed the staff at Patisserie Valerie failed to show them the e-fits of the 'Mediterranean couple.' Why? I have no idea, sir.

"Then, so I've been told, a reporter went to the cafe to interview the staff himself. One of the waitresses, seeing the e-fits for the first time, identified the 'Mediterranean' woman as the very one who had met Gareth Williams at the back of the cafe!"

Holmes took a long pull on his cigar and blew a large ring of smoke. Then he blew a dozen smaller rings through the large ring, one after another in quick succession.

"That's a nifty trick, isn't it?" he asked.

"Quite, sir," replied Slate. "I haven't smoked long enough to do it myself."

"What?" said Holmes. "Oh, the smoke rings! Never mind them, Bucky; I meant the trick by which the police made one couple appear to be two!"

"Does it change anything in your analysis, Mr. Holmes?" asked Slate.

"We shall see," replied my friend. "We shall see."

Holmes appeared to be getting lost in his thoughts, so I kept one eye on the clock and made small talk with our guests while he sat quietly, apparently working out the implications of what we had just heard. The coffee and cigars were almost gone when I roused Holmes and our guests by saying, "It's quarter past seven, gentlemen. Soon we should start getting ready for the next phase of our evening."

Holmes snapped back to the present, turned to Bucky, and said, "You and Scott should check the microphones again and make sure everything is working properly. Then slip into the bedroom, close the door, turn off the lights, and wait quietly until I call you."

"Yes, sir," said Slate, and he and Scott started moving.

"Watson, if you will be so kind," Holmes said to me, "please find a crossword to work on or a book to read and spread yourself out on the couch. I will busy myself with a chemistry experiment. The last thing we want is to give anyone the impression that we're expecting company."

"I am with you, Holmes," I said. "I could even spread these papers around the place and fall asleep on the couch!"

"Make sure you have your jacket on," he replied, "and your revolver in your pocket. Then, by all means, fall asleep, if you can."

He knew, of course, that I couldn't.

So while he busied himself with the production of another foul aroma, I lounged on the couch, working on a crossword, and listening very hard for the footsteps on the stair that I wasn't supposed to be expecting.

Next: A Distinguished Visitor

Chapter 83: A Distinguished Visitor

Previous: Coffee And Cigars

It emitted a cloud of foul-smelling gas.

Perhaps the crossword was too easy. Or maybe the minutes went by too slowly. In any case, I had solved the first puzzle without much difficulty, and had already started another, when something Holmes was doing reacted suddenly and emitted a cloud of foul-smelling gas.

With all the windows open, the only thing left was to open the door at the top of the stairs. As I did so, the door at the bottom of the stairs swung open. "This is perfect!" I said to myself; then to Holmes I whispered, "They're here!"

I began to swing the door back and forth on its hinges, trying to dissipate the foul aroma and pretending not to have seen the visitors I was pretending not to expect. But a familiar voice called, "Hello? Dr. Watson? Is that you?"

I stopped what I was doing and peered out through the spreading fog. "Mycroft?" I asked, trying my best to sound surprised.

"Indeed," he replied. "Is Sherlock at home?"

"Why else would I be working so hard to ventilate the place?" I thought. "I never do this when he's away!"

"Yes," I shouted down the stairs. "He's inside, working on some chemistry."

"May we come up?" asked Mycroft.

"I'm sure you may," I replied, "but if I were you, I'd wait a few minutes for the air to clear a bit."

I heard murmurings from Mycroft and his companion, who were still at the bottom of the stairs, but I couldn't understand what they were saying.

Then Mycroft spoke up, saying, "We'd prefer to come up immediately, if he'll see us."

"Suit yourself," I replied, and got out of the way as they climbed the stairs.

Mycroft entered the room first, followed by a younger man in a very sharp suit. The latter looked familiar, but I couldn't put a name to the face, nor could I remember where I had seen him.

"Hello, Sherlock!" said Mycroft. "Are you busy? Of course you are! But may we interrupt you?"

"I suppose so," said my friend slowly, looking up from his reeking glassware for the first time since their arrival. "What can I do for you, Mycroft?"

"I've brought the Minister with me," said Mycroft. "He hoped you would see us." Then, turning to his companion, he said, "That's my brother, sir, and this is his friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."

The Minister shook my hand, waited for Holmes to come around from behind his experiment, and shook his hand as well. "It is indeed a pleasure," said Holmes, "but you've taken us by surprise. Just a moment, please."

Holmes turned to me and said, "Watson, would you be so kind as to clear off the couch and give our guests a place to sit?"

I did so as quickly as I could, and said, "Please, gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable."

The Minister moved toward the couch, but Mycroft did not. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, "but I do have another appointment -- in fact, I'm late already. The Minister has some questions for you, Sherlock, and I'm confident that you can answer them without my assistance. For all I know, the Minister may prefer to speak with you privately, anyway."

"Yes, yes, of course," said my friend. "Drop by and see us again, Mycroft, perhaps when the air is a bit less aromatic!"

After Mycroft had closed the door behind him, the Minister sat upon the couch and cast a questioning gaze in my direction. "You can rely upon Dr. Watson's discretion," said Holmes. "Please speak freely."

"I am sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Holmes," said the Minister, "as I can see you are very busy. But I was speaking with Mycroft, and he gave me some amazing news. He said if I wanted to hear more, I would have to get it from your lips. So here I am. I do hope you'll speak freely in return."

"About what, Minister?" asked my friend.

"According to Mycroft," replied the Minister, "you have been investigating the death of Gareth Williams."

"I am sorry to say," answered Holmes, "that I am not at liberty to discuss any ongoing investigation."

"Mycroft says you are on the verge of making an arrest," said the Minister, with a hint of desperation in his voice, and as if he had not heard Holmes' previous statement at all.

"I'm sorry, sir," said my friend, "I simply can't --"

"Ah, but you must!" interrupted the Minister. "It is a matter of extreme concern to me. I implore you, Mr. Holmes. I'll keep your secrets as well as anyone ever could. Please tell me what you've found out."

"It would be highly irregular," said Holmes after a pause.

"What harm could come of it?" the Minister persisted.

"Well, I suppose you're right," said my friend after a longer pause. "You must promise not to tell a soul."

"You have my word," said the Minister.

"Listen very carefully," replied the detective, "and I will tell you what we know."

Next: A Tense Interview

Chapter 84: A Tense Interview

Previous: A Distinguished Visitor

"We can begin with the details of the scene."

"I am all ears," said the Minister. Holmes sat in an armchair and peered intently at our guest.

"We can begin," said my friend, "with the details of the scene. Even though no precise cause of death has been established, our investigation has left no doubt in our minds that Gareth Williams was murdered."

"Murdered!" exclaimed the Minister. "Oh, no! He was the victim of a very strange accident: a kinky sex game gone wrong, was it not?"

"That does not appear to be the case," replied Holmes. "The condition of the flat and that of the body suggest another explanation entirely."

"I had no idea," said the Minister.

"No, I suppose you didn't," said the detective. "There has been a good deal of confusion about the case.

"A jealous lover?" suggested the Minister.

"No, we don't think so," replied Holmes. "Crimes of passion are normally haphazard; the perpetrator panics and leaves an abundance of evidence. In this case, the absence of forensic evidence, among other things, suggests premeditation."

"Oh my goodness!" said the Minister. "Who could have done such a thing?"

"We asked ourselves the same question," said the detective. "Considering the circumstances, we have come to the conclusion that the killers -- plural, as it would have taken more than one person to do this -- must have been very well trained and coordinated. The killing bears all the hallmarks of organised professionals, such as one would find in an intelligence or security agency."

"Foreigners!" declared the Minister. "We have so many enemies, Mr. Holmes. Which do you think it could have been? Russians? Chinese? Taliban? These mad Irishmen we've been reading about?"

"We've considered all the possibilities, sir," replied Holmes, "and we have used other evidence to reduce the list of suspects by a significant margin."

The Minister shifted in his seat and began to appear somewhat uncomfortable.

"The groups remaining on our list," continued the detective, "are all military or paramilitary in nature, with rigid hierarchical command structures. And the crime, especially given its location, was nothing if not extremely audacious.

"We reasoned that no underling would dare to mount such an operation without explicit orders from above. This insight helped us to reduce our list of suspects even further, to just a few very powerful individuals.

"It is difficult for me to see how you could lay hands on any of them, Mr. Holmes," replied the Minister, "let alone the man you want."

"On the contrary," said my friend, "we have determined which man we want, and I believe we will lay hands on him this very evening."

"And how do you intend to do that?" asked the Minister.

"Sit here with us for a few more minutes," replied Holmes, "and you will see."

"What?" exclaimed the Minister. "Do you mean to say he's coming here?"

"No," said my friend. "I mean to say he is here already."

"Well then, where is he?" asked the Minister. "Do you have him hidden in one of the bedrooms?"

"No, sir," replied Sherlock Holmes. "He is currently sitting on the couch."

"Preposterous!" shouted the Minister. "This is the most ridiculous prank I have ever suffered! I did not come here to be trifled with, Mr. Holmes!"

"But consider the facts," said my friend. "Gareth Williams was brought down to London to work for MI6, he was found dead in the MI6 'safe house' where he lived, and MI6 agents have been impeding the police investigation ever since. His body was in an advanced state of decomposition when it was found, even though he had missed a meeting the previous week. So apparently his employers weren't looking for him. Why not? There can be only one reason.

"Up until a few years ago, evidence implicating a British intelligence service in the murder of one of its own would not have been traceable to a single individual. No one knew who was running MI6; the head of the organisation was known by an initial, which was not even indicative of his given name.

"But that's all been changed, and now Sir John Sawers -- the 'public face' of MI6 -- speaks openly about the need to keep secrets secret, and so on. But in doing so, Sir John has been spilling secrets all over the map. He recently revealed that MI6 is hardly an independent force, but takes its operational direction from the Foreign Minister.

"And that, sir," said Holmes, pointing toward our guest, "means you!"

"Outrageous!" cried the Minister. "This is beyond surreal!"

"But consider the facts," replied Holmes.

"I don't need your facts!" the outraged politician replied. "I've had enough of your facts! It is absurd that a man of my position, a man of power and prestige, a public servant with a long and distinguished history, should be ambushed by the figment of a Victorian writer's imagination, and badgered with so-called facts!"

"Is it really?" asked Holmes.

"You don't even have your facts straight," the Minister added.

"And what, may I ask, do I have wrong?" replied my friend.

"You say Gareth Williams was murdered," replied the Minister, "but you can't prove it!

"And the reason you can't prove it, Mr. Hot-Shot De-tec-tive, is because it's not true!"

Next: Snap!

Chapter 85: Snap!

Previous: A Tense Interview

Just as he began to sign his name ...

"Seriously, Minister?" asked Sherlock Holmes. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that Gareth Williams wasn't murdered?"

"I don't care what you believe," replied the Minister. "I know for a fact that he wasn't."

"And how do you know that?" asked the detective.

"I've probably said too much," said the Minister. "Why should I tell you anything that you don't already know?"

"And yet," replied my friend, "why not? As you rightly pointed out, Dr. Watson and I are mere figments of a writer's imagination. If you know something we don't, why not tell us? How else can we get our story straight? If I've accused you unfairly, I'll want to make amends. So why not talk to us?"

"It would be highly irregular," said the Minister.

"What harm could come of it?" asked Holmes. "We'll keep your secrets as well as anyone ever could."

"You must promise not to tell a soul," said the Minister.

"You have my word," replied the detective.

"Mine, too," I added. But not Slate's, I thought.

The Minister took a deep breath. "It is quite difficult to explain," he said.

"We have the entire evening," answered my friend. "Take all the time you need."

"Do you mind if I smoke?" asked the Minister. I nearly fell off my chair.

"So long as we can join you," replied Sherlock Holmes. "May I offer you a cigar?"

"I prefer cigarettes," said the Minister, "but please don't let me stop you." Holmes filled a pipe. Fortunately the windows were already open.

"I don't know whether you two get out much," said the Minister between puffs, "and I don't see a television or a computer anywhere. So it's possible, I suppose, that you don't know we're in the midst of a war."

"Multiple wars, at that," said Holmes. "We do read the papers, Minister."

"Treason during wartime is punishable by death," said the Minister. "And the punishment is considered justice, not murder."

"Without a trial?" exclaimed Holmes. "Without a charge? Without so much as a hearing? Without giving him a chance to defend himself? What sort of justice is that?"

"We couldn't allow a trial," replied the Minister, "or even a hearing. For reasons of national security, a trial in this case would have been severely detrimental."

"Was that for you to decide?" asked my friend.

"There was also the matter of self-defence," answered the Minister. "When an asset becomes a liability in the middle of a war, what other choice is there?

"I ask you, what would you have us do? Would you prefer to see us go the way of the idiot Americans with their treacherous little rat, Bradley Manning? Should we have let him leak all manner of damaging material, then held him indefinitely, so a handful of other treacherous little rats could gather around and make an issue of it?"

"Why couldn't you have allowed a trial?" asked Holmes. "Because he would have been the only one telling the truth?"

"The truth, Mr. Holmes," answered the Minister, "is that he had been living on the Queen's shilling for a decade. Who did he think he was? What did he think he was doing? Whose information did he think he was looking at every day? Where would we be if every man's personal vision of 'truth' could trump his duty to Crown and Country?

"We're in the middle of a war," he continued. "In any war, truth is the first casualty. Can you not see that, Mr. Holmes? Could he not see it?"

"Can you deny," asked Holmes, "that Gareth Williams was killed because he was challenging lies that supported the war effort better than the truth would have done?"

"I am saying," replied the Minister, "that the difference between truth and lies is irrelevant in time of war. True or false? Right or wrong? These questions are immaterial now. It's all down to loyalty. Are you with us or against us? Surely you can see that, Mr. Holmes."

"And anyone who isn't with you --" said Holmes.

"-- is with the terrorists, and must be eliminated!" said the Minister.

"What if Dr. Watson and I were to insist on telling the truth about this case," asked Holmes, "even if it meant disparaging Crown and Country?"

"Well then, we'd have a big problem, Mr. Holmes," said the Minister. "In fact, we already do. I can't deny I'd love to see you silenced. I would have done it as soon as you started digging into this case. But, as you say, you are a figment of a writer's imagination.

"I can't kill you, Mr. Holmes," he said. "Nobody can."

"But you would if you could?" asked Holmes.

"In a heartbeat," replied the Minister.

"Whether you know it or not," said my friend, "you have just earned admittance into a very exclusive club: The Society Of Exalted Men Who Wanted To Kill Sherlock Holmes. The malignant Professor Moriarty was a founding member, of course. His henchman, Colonel Sebastian Moran, was another. Then there was Count Silvius, a truly evil man, and the vile Baron Gruner, who would have wrung my neck with his bare hands if he could have.

"I have no doubt you'd do the same, Minister. But, as you say, it's no use. There have been many others, some ham-fisted, some brilliant. Even the great Doyle himself couldn't kill me, although he made a valiant effort. Where's that collage?"

Holmes had risen from his chair and was shuffling through the drawers of his desk. "I started making a work of art," he continued, "using the signatures of all the men who wanted to kill me but couldn't. I can't lay my hands on it at the moment. That's too bad. I was going to invite you to sign it."

"Too bad indeed," replied the Minister. "It would have been a pleasure."

"I don't suppose you'd autograph a blank sheet of paper," said Holmes, "so I can add your name to the others when I find them."

"It would be highly irregular," replied the Minister, "but what harm could come of it?"

"Don't get up," said Holmes. "I'll bring you a pen and some paper. I suppose you'll need a clipboard, too."

Holmes handed these items to the Minister, who placed the clipboard on his lap and took the pen in hand. Just as he began to sign his name, Holmes stepped behind the couch, reached around with both arms, and snapped the cuffs onto the unsuspecting man's wrists.

"What is the meaning of this?" bellowed the Minister.

"You've just confessed to one murder," replied Holmes, "and threatened another. I'd be negligent if I didn't try to stop you leaving."

"You'll never get away with this!" the Minister raged. "Never! I'll admit nothing! I'll deny everything! It'll be your word against mine!"

"Not exactly," replied Holmes. "Bucky, are you still awake in there? Why don't you come out and meet the Foreign Minister?"

The Minister's face turned ashen as the bedroom door swung open and Slate emerged wearing a headset. "I caught every word, loud and clear, sir," he said. "Robinson heard it all too. We've got a good recording as well."

"Who is this?" asked the Minister, finally understanding his predicament and starting to struggle.

"Watson," said Holmes, "show the Minister your revolver, will you?"

Then, to his prisoner, he said, "Settle down, man. Don't get yourself shot. You're in enough trouble already."

The Minister took a deep breath and appeared to relax.

"My name is Buckingham Slate," came the belated reply, "I am a homicide detective with Metro Police. And you, sir, are under arrest."

Next: Delirious