Keisuke Matsuoka - Sherlock Holmes - A Scandal in Japan

Kanevsky nodded. “The waterproof cover is not perfect. If it is left in the water, the cover must be replaced once every two to three days.”

Shevich furrowed his brow. “Are you telling me that there have been explosives attached to our ships all this time? To the Laskar ?”

“They must have taken measures to ensure that Russia would mount an invasion, should their plan to lead Japan down a path of self-destruction flounder at its inception.”

“When you say measures…” Shevich’s eyes widened. “You mean Tsarevich Nicholas!”

Ito stared at Sherlock. “If Chekhov learns of what has just occurred…”

“He will act immediately. If the warships in port are sunk and Nicholas is killed, it will surely spark a war. Our discovery of the switched books will be for nothing.”

“Do you think they are already on the move?”

“I cannot say. But Tokyo is very quiet once the sun goes down. That volley of gunshots earlier was probably audible from a mile in every direction. It’s probable that Chekhov and Denikin are in Daiba, but if either one was still nearby and heard the reports, they would be speeding to Daiba by carriage.”

Then there was not a moment to spare. “We must mobilize the police immediately,” Ito declared.

Shevich cleared his throat. “We shall telegraph the Laskar, as well.”

Sherlock took charge. “Telegraph Russia first. If the ships in the harbor are sunk, they must know it was the Okhrana’s doing, not Japan’s. You must notify the Emperor quickly. Otherwise, Chekhov wins.”

Then he rushed out the door. Ito chased after him.

They were in the midst of the greatest threat Japan had encountered since the Restoration. Once, Ito had failed to prevent the Battle of Shimonoseki. He would be damned if he failed again, even were it to cost him his own life. If he failed now, modern Japan would meet its demise at the young age of 24.

The Daiba port was illuminated with a faint glow. Torches burned, and constellations of lantern light migrated across the area. The sound of hoofbeats was constant. Carriages arrived in droves, assembling at the top of the hill, from which uniformed police officers poured down the narrow path toward the shore.

Ito and Sherlock alighted from one of the carriages and joined the frenzy. The smell of the tide was omnipresent. Cool air blew in from the sea, stealing the heat from their bodies.

Sherlock directed his attention toward the pitch-black sea. The nine warships were still parked in harbor. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Ito rendezvoused with Sonoda. Kanevsky had brought his guards with him and was yelling at the sailors in Russian. Leaving the chaos of the hilltop behind, Sherlock headed for the outlook.

He peered over the balustrade, down at the shoreline, where there were several small boats being gathered. It was a random assortment—everything from steam-powered crafts to rowboats. Policemen crowded around the boats, impatient to board.

“Mr. Holmes,” Ito caught up to Sherlock and panted. “Sonoda has gathered over 100 boats. With all these people searching, I am sure we will find the attached explosives.”

Sherlock shook his head. “They are not all in diving suits. The ocean is dark, and the explosives are attached to the bottom of the ships. The men will be useless unless they dive.”

“The navy is on its way now. They have a great number of divers. Until then, we must do what we can.”

From behind, a voice called, “Ito!”

They turned and were confronted by a Japanese man in a blazer. He approached quickly. Kaoru Inoue! He held his cane in one hand—the one with the hidden blade. “I put a call out to the fishermen as soon as I received your message,” he said. “They are all men accustomed to nighttime skin diving.”

Sherlock couldn’t hide his surprise. “You plan to have them fumble around the bottom of the ships with their hands?”

Inoue nodded. “Of course. With enough men searching, I’m sure we will find the explosives.”

“It is dangerous. And the bottoms of the ships are quite deep.”

“Japanese fishermen dive naked as far down as the ocean floor. They cannot afford expensive equipment.”

Their courage, at least, was commendable. But there were other worries to contend with. Sherlock called: “Lt. Colonel Kanevsky! If the land mines beneath the waterproof covers are tampered with, will they explode?”

“There is no saying how they were set,” the lieutenant colonel replied, “but if they need to be replaced on a regular basis I doubt they are so delicate.”

“Then how do Chekhov and his man plan to detonate them?”

“Probably they would dive down and attach a wire to the fuse in advance, and pull the wire from some faraway location. That is the only method I can think of. Fishing boats travel between the ships on a regular basis, so I doubt the wires would be constantly tensed.”

Sherlock turned back toward Ito. “Excellent. Get the police and fishermen out onto the water, and Chekhov and Denikin will be unable to run the wires.”

“According to the sailors, Chekhov set out toward the ships on a steamboat with a young man. They had many sailors aboard with them, so it is unlikely they could dive anywhere along the way. But it’s not clear which ship they boarded.”

“Not the Laskar, surely,” Ito murmured.

“Likely not.” Kanevsky nodded. “Ambassador Shevich already wired Russia. He also contacted the captain of the Laskar. Everyone on board has been directed to remain on standby, and to do nothing prematurely. Naturally that includes Tsarevich Nicholas. All of the sailors on land who have any diving experience are being mobilized to search for and remove the explosives.”

Sherlock held up a hand. “No, ask the Russians to stand down. The Japanese police and fishermen are already on their way.”

“Stand down?” A look of irritation appeared on Kanevsky’s face. “Those are our ships out there, and it is our crown prince being targeted. It is the Japanese who should stand down.”

“These are Japanese waters,” Ito snapped back. “In fact, the boats are still in harbor. Police jurisdiction applies.”

Kanevsky ground his teeth. “And what will Japan say if the explosives are detonated first?”

Sherlock replied, “It is less a matter of whose responsibility it is now, as it is of danger. Chekhov is a portly man with red hair—it will be obvious if he attempts to conceal himself among the Japanese soldiers. Denikin, however, is another story. He could get close to the explosives by pretending to be part of the search party, and then pull the fuses in an act of suicide.”

“You ask us to stand here biting our nails as we watch from shore?”

“That is precisely what I ask. Any other course would be pointless. You must rely on the industriousness and cleverness of the Japanese now.”

“Impossible! As an Imperial Russian military officer, I will not stand idly by while our Tsarevich is in danger—”

Before he could finish, however, a flash like lightning lit up the surrounding sky. A concussive tremor shook the ground. A low roar echoed overhead, followed by a sharp blast of wind.

Sherlock peered into the wind, straining to see. What he beheld took his breath away. Of the three ships moored alongside the pier, the rearmost had sprouted flames. A moment later, a great column of water shot into the air. The ship tilted dangerously to the side before listing toward the pier. The men onboard were thrown overboard like ants. Unable to resist its own weight, the ship began to slither beneath the water’s surface.

Kanevsky clutched his head. “No! The Zaur !”