Maxim Jakubowski - The Mammoth Book of the Adventures of Professor Moriarty

“As you can imagine, the pressure to find the gold was intense. The police both in France and here in England arrested everyone but could pin it on none. The professional police forces then were fairly new and employed few men capable of a real investigation, but they managed to eliminate the boat that brought the shipment across the Channel and Folkestone Station as the sites where the crime was committed. Likewise, because of the matching weights, the trip from the boat to Paris to Boulogne was assumed secure. As I said, there was no question that the gold was on the train when it left London. The only remaining explanation then, no matter how extraordinary, was that the burglary must have occurred whilst the train was in motion between London and Folkestone.

“These were no ordinary criminals.”

He leans across the small table between our chairs. I’ve seen that shine to his eyes before when he’s keen on a scent. “Did you solve the case after spying reddish dirt on the conductor’s sleeve?”

“I never left Durham. All this running about town and poking about the scene of the crime is very energetic and looks good on the pages of The Strand , but it’s unnecessary. Everything I needed to know was in the papers, or easily deduced. I said as much to my colleagues. They scoffed, so I challenged them to place wagers. However, as the months passed and the right people still had not been arrested, well, I went to the police—”

“You!”

“Here is where I find myself in agreement with Mr Holmes. The detectives of Scotland Yard are at best an unimaginative lot. How he works with that buffoon, Lestrade … Bah! I gave them the solution, but they ignored it.”

He smiles around his cigar. “Until.”

It gives me great satisfaction to remember it.

“Men like you and I understand the value of silence, Moran.”

“Many a man has gone in the stir for the crime of talking.”

“There have been crimes more spectacular—”

“Vamberry,” he muttered.

The compliment was acknowledged with a slight nod. “And many have been more lucrative than Pierce and Agar’s caper. What set this crime apart was that Agar bragged about it in court. He laid out the entire scheme from start to finish in amazing detail. They matched, in essence, what I’d predicted two years before.”

I’d read the papers avidly. Each edition had carried new revelations to the readers, but they’d only confirmed what I’d already deduced. It was so obvious that to this day I am amazed that anyone could be mystified. But it also informed me that, as a whole, people are easy duped into thinking something is difficult when it is, in fact, quite simple. From their narrow brows and sloping foreheads, one must surmise that most people in London are descendants of some other strain of humanoids than myself and the Holmes brothers.

“You said the rozzers ignored you.” Moran taps his cigar against the table. An inch of downy ash drops into the Persian rug at our feet. “You were finally able to collect on your wagers though.”

Naturally, that is the part that interests him most. His evenings are spent at the card tables. The idea of refusing to honor a gambling debt offends his deepest-held sensibilities. Cheating at cards, however, does not. Several men have died for saying as much aloud, so I turn back to my story.

“Some of my colleagues had conveniently forgotten their bets. I lost my temper. It caused a small scandal and my post was no longer secure. I collected what I could, which was still considerable, and moved to London. Eventually, I extracted my due from each of those scoundrels at Durham. Not only in coin, but in reputation. I cast my web and waited for an opportunity to pluck at their strands. One after the next has been ruined by their own folly.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Moran isn’t in my employ merely because he’s the best shot in the Empire. He’s the kind of man accustomed to, and not fazed by, certain demands of our line of business. A man of good moral character would have been useless to me.

“While there had been some unfortunate incidences that began to cloud my academic career, I’ll admit I’d never lent my prodigious mental abilities to those exploits. They were merely …”

I wave away what I cannot explain in words. Sometimes I had taken things I did not need and hadn’t even desired simply because I could get away with taking them. Regret wasn’t a word that came to mind, but I was ashamed of my lack of discipline.

“I was what I’ve come to despise the most, a lazy criminal. In reading the details of that daring escapade, clarity struck me. It was fascinating, a treatise on how to commit a crime of exquisite detail and complication, not unlike the working of the celestial plane, or the working of a watch. A thing of beauty.”

Moran puffs on his cigar. “They got caught. There’s nothing beautiful about that.”

I smile. “Yes, they did. That was the most instructive part.”

“How so?”

“Do you know what gave them away? Greed. If Pierce had only paid Agar’s woman the amount he’d promised from the haul, she never would have gone to the authorities and talked. He would have lost half, but better that than lose it all.”

“What sort of stupid thief goes to a beak and cries about not getting her cut?” He tosses down his copy of The Strand and walks over it as if it offends him. He returns to the window and peers out of it.

“That’s why I insist on silence. The man who utters my name knows he’ll die for it.”

Now there seems to be no corner unturned in our conversation. We let it cool, then die.

My thoughts stay on Agar’s Judy as the quiet curtains over our shoulders. I hadn’t thought about her for years. What had she hoped to accomplish by complaining to the prison warden, of all people? Appealing to the law for her share of the take from a robbery gained her nothing. Yet, in more than one of Holmes’s cases, thieves have stolen from maharajas, but there was never any cry to return the proceeds to those victims. Rather, the heirs of the thieves have been shown time and again to be the rightful owners of the ill-gotten gains. So why shouldn’t she have expected the same treatment?

I suppose that the difference was that the victim was an English bank this time and not some foreigner. Steal a shilling, and your reputation is forever ruined. Steal a hundred thousand pounds, and even the Bank of England will roll over and show you its belly. Or perhaps the social rank of the heir was of the utmost importance when deciding these things. Holmes, it seemed, was a better judge of what exactly defined justice than was I. My aim was to avoid the law, not to dance about its niceties like a swain at a ball.

Thoughts left unchecked tend to wander. Mine plunge into the abyss I’ve avoided while reminiscing about the Great Gold Robbery. Tonight, a certain gentleman of no discernible talent but excellent connections is at the house of Countess R—, where he is enjoying a musical evening. Will be, that is, until a letter is placed in his hands. After he reads it, I envision him questioning the men who had given it to him. I’ve trained them to convey a sense of urgency and reinforce the need for secrecy. My guess is that he will assume he can handle the situation and will follow my men without another thought. Perhaps he’ll cast a glance at his intended before he slips out. I’ve heard that she plays beautifully. Her fingers, it is said, are perfect for the demands of Liszt’s melodies. She would make a fine pickpocket.

Moran consults his pocket watch. Similarly, I check the one on the mantel and found the hour far later than I expected. We should have heard by now.

Moran shares my nagging thought: “What if they decided not to share the information with us?”