Keisuke Matsuoka - Sherlock Holmes - A Scandal in Japan

The Zaur ? Sherlock had been almost sure it was the Arsen moored in that position. He hardly had time to think that before the aft end of the ship behind the Zaur suddenly lurched into the air like a toy. It was the Yakov. Soon the ship was enveloped in black smoke, and the bow tipped precariously up. The back of the ship was sinking. The mast broke off and collapsed into the sea. The water’s surface churned with frothy waves.

Ito’s eyes widened. “What is happening?”

Sherlock watched the disaster unfold with bated breath. He had a bad feeling. He’d discovered that a suction plate had been smuggled in through the hollowed-out book, but there was no guarantee that had been the only one. “It did seem like too much of a coincidence that he had changed the waterproof casing today, when it only needs to be every two to three days,” he muttered. “It might be a daily task… because explosives have been placed on eight ships—all of the ships except the Laskar .”

“Eight?” shouted Kanevsky. “But why—”

Another roar, like thunder, swept the hill. Then a column of water shot up next to the Kondrat, also moored at the pier. The ship split in two down its middle, and the halves began sinking separately. Sailors could be seen bobbing on the surface, their heads barely above water, waving their arms desperately in the air.

Sonoda leaned over the balustrade and began shouting in Japanese toward the shore. He was telling them to launch a rescue.

The policemen on the beach leapt into action, joined by the fishermen. One by one small ships began pushing off from the shore, headed for the island pier.

“Police Chief Sonoda, keep your men away from the ships that are still whole,” Sherlock cried. “There could be more explosions.”

Sonoda nodded. He turned back toward the shore and shouted frantically in Japanese.

Ito glanced at him. “You think the explosives are only on eight ships? Won’t they target the Laskar, if that is the ship Tsarevich Nicholas is on?”

“Chekhov and Denikin must also be aboard one of the ships, and that is the one that will not sink. It is the Laskar .”

“But then Tsarevich Nicholas will be safe.”

“Once the other eight ships sink, the last ship will also appear to be in danger. Naturally they will evacuate. The Tsarevich will board a lifeboat. That is when the attempt will be made on his life.”

“Ridiculous,” Kanevsky objected. “Someone would notice at once if anything so large as an explosive were attached to the bottom of a lifeboat. Besides, how would they know which boat His Highness would board?”

“Try to be a little more imaginative, Lieutenant Colonel!” Sherlock chided. “Why would they need to use explosives once they were aboard a lifeboat? They will be alone and isolated upon the water, with few men to contend with. There would be nothing to stop an assassin from taking Nicholas’ life.”

Ito squinted. “An assassin on the boat? It would have to be someone very close to the Tsarevich. Surely not Chekhov and some unknown young man.”

Sherlock was growing impatient at having to explain himself. “Ito,” he said, speaking very quickly, “perhaps you have forgotten. Chekhov and Anna Luzhkova were the ones who told us that Chekhov was Grand Duke George’s attendant, and not close to Nicholas. Don’t you see? That was all a lie. The members of the Russian legation are no more aware of the true arrangements aboard the warships than we are. We must assume that Chekhov is Nicholas’ aide.”

A look of shock crossed Kanevsky’s face. “You think that red-headed hog has earned the Tsarevich’s trust?”

“And Denikin as well,” Sherlock said. “I never suggested that the Laskar would be sunk. Sinking the Laskar would offer no guarantee of Nicholas’ death. In addition to the destruction of the fleet, he will be assassinated while trying to escape. That will necessitate an invasion on Russia’s part.”

Another thunderous roar, and another column of water shot into the air. It was the Kesar, which had anchored in front of the Laskar. She, too, began to sink. The desperate screams of the sailors reached the outlook.

Kanevsky’s face flushed red. “Those Okhrana traitors will pay for this.”

A sailor rushed toward them. He reported something to Kanevsky, in Russian. Kanevsky nodded and turned toward the detective. “A small steamboat is almost ready. We will be close if the Laskar lets down a lifeboat.”

“I will go with you,” Sherlock said.

“I will tell the guards at the gate. Be at wharf two in ten minutes.” Kanevsky turned away and hurried down the narrow path with a group of sailors.

“Mr. Holmes,” Ito said. “I will go as well.”

That was unthinkable. Sherlock stared. “You can’t. Japan cannot afford to lose you.”

“But we have come this far together.”

“Your courage, enterprise, and authority are not required at this juncture. We are only going to trade a few measly blows with an assassin upon a boat.”

“Precisely what I was hoping for. I am a former Choshu retainer. When someone makes an attempt on my life, I must repay them in kind.”

“An unbecoming statement from a former prime minister. Mr. Ito, I realized something as I rode that train to Aomori. It is you who is to thank for changing Japan. Its future, likewise, relies on you.”

“That is why I wish to settle this in person.”

“Please. I understand your sentiments but I do not wish to fight with you again. Our first round was at Baker Street when I was 29, our second was our tussle in the garden at your home. I have already learned my lesson. I hope to never see round three of Sherlock Holmes versus Hirobumi Ito.”

“Then give in,” Ito urged. “You were only ten when I returned to Choshu. I would have stood in front of the gun barrel myself if it would have stopped those first shots of war. But I was too late. I failed. But if I can prevent war with Russia now, I do not care what should happen thereafter. I will stake my life on this!”

What could Sherlock say? Speechless, he stared at Ito. The chairman returned his gaze, equally silent.

Sherlock recalled what he had told his dearest friend by the banks of Lake Daubensee. I think that I may go so far as to say, Watson, that I have not lived wholly in vain. If my record were closed tonight I could still survey it with equanimity. The air of London is the sweeter for my presence. In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers upon the wrong side. Of late I have been tempted to look into the problems furnished by nature rather than those more superficial ones for which our artificial state of society is responsible. Your memoirs will draw to an end, Watson, upon the day that I crown my career by the capture or extinction of the most dangerous and capable criminal in Europe.

From the moment Sherlock had discovered the existence of that foul villain Moriarty, he knew life was meaningless unless he defeated the man. The achievement of his entire career lay in accomplishing that single feat, or so he had believed. The evil that had beset London must be scourged from the roots. And so Sherlock had found a clear purpose in life.

Undoubtedly, Ito now felt the same. It was a seductive emotion. What use was there in living only at the whims of fate? And yet…

Sherlock sighed. “Ito,” he said quietly. “Promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“You will return home when this is through. Do you swear?”

“Return… home?”

“Japan finds itself in the gravest of dangers. You may believe that to surmount this current predicament is all that matters. So long as there are countries, however, there shall be crises. Who will avert the next, if you are lost? You must return home when this is through, and you must return alive.”