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

“And how will you pay?” the major-general taunted Irving.

“His is free, sir,” Nora interjected. “His reward for having offered to defend me from you, if required.”

“Have a pity, woman.” The major-general seethed. “I have just lost everything I own!”

“And yet you still have more than I have ever had,” Irving replied, unable to quash the idea that Moriarty had seeded; that people like Fitzwilliam had somehow been cheating him since the very moment of his birth in ways he did not even understand. “Perhaps we should all step off this boat as equals.”

The major-general snorted his derision. “We are not equals. I am an officer and a gentleman, from one of the most respected families in all of England. What are you?”

“An orphan, with little education.” Irving stood up and advanced on the man, until they stood nose to nose in the centre of the boat, barely a handspan separating them. It was a short enough distance that Irving could throw a punch, long before the soldier had retrieved the revolver from his bag. “Does that make me less than you? We all need water.”

The heiress coughed, delicately attempting to defuse the argument.

“I shall pay my share. I need the water,” she said, shattering the tension. Her cotton-gloved hands pulled gold chains and bracelets from her handbag. “Provided it covers a supply for my farmhands and the staff from the ship.”

“Noble sentiments,” Nora replied, taking a bottle of water from her knapsack and handing it over to the heiress, in exchange for the bag of riches. “Naturally, it shall.”

“Fool!” the major-general exploded, his envious eyes fixed on the bottle. “Now you have lost everything!”

“Now I have nothing,” the heiress replied glumly. “Save for my life. But for that I shall be eternally grateful.”

“Come, sir.” Moriarty leaned forwards, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. “This is but a microcosm of the real world. Embrace the misfortune of circumstances with good grace, pay the lady what she is due.”

“I shall.”

There was no intonation of acceptance in the soldier, just resolve and anger, as he turned and picked up his satchel. Irving had been in enough disagreements to know when a person had reached their breaking point and was reaching for a weapon. The major-general’s hand plunged into the bag of pound notes, but pulled out the revolver.

Irving grabbed his arm, turning it out to sea, as the shot exploded out of the barrel. The shot passed harmlessly into the waves. He punched the soldier in the side of the head, knocking him down.

Moriarty moved quickly, pulling the gun from the man’s hands. He looked at it for a moment, appearing disgusted, before throwing the weapon out into the ocean, making it disappear from the world for ever.

Moriarty rounded on the officer, grabbing him by his uniform’s lapels.

“I have never witnessed something so abhorrent!” Moriarty seethed, physically shaking the already befuddled man. “To threaten and extort what you want from an innocent person, it is contemptible. You are no gentleman! You are no better than a criminal!”

The words sounded genuinely heartfelt, but they were laced with so much hypocrisy that Irving was surprised Moriarty could even say them. Nora coughed politely, precisely imitating the sound the heiress had made earlier.

“Let us finish out transaction, sir. Pay me for the water, or die of thirst.” Nora smiled. “Your choice. See if anyone else here cares.”

Moriarty let go of the soldier, letting him fall to the deck.

The major-general glanced around the little boat. He was suddenly adrift in a sea of horrified faces. He was outnumbered nineteen to one. He threw the bag of money at Nora. One or two of the white paper notes took flight, fluttering out into the ocean.

Nobody chased after them.

Irving was woken by a kiss.

He was lying in a warm bed, in a luxurious seafront hotel, with Nora’s naked body partly coiled around him. Given the amount of times he had woken up in an alleyway, cold and alone, things were definitely looking up.

A distant clock tower tolled the time, while Nora nuzzled in his ear.

“We’re supposed to be meeting Moriarty for breakfast in an hour,” she whispered.

“An hour?” he responded, turning to meet her lips. “Best not waste that time then.”

An hour later they had dressed, and made their way downstairs to find Moriarty sitting by the window reading the newspaper. The front page was filled with photographs of RMS Heroic , the newspapers were still obsessed with stories of the passengers, all of whom had survived the disaster. Even the captain, who had stayed with ship until the end, had apparently been pulled from the sea, having managed to cling to wooden wreckage that had drifted towards shore. He had been given an award for his bravery.

Their own lifeboat had made its way to shore shortly after the money had exchanged hands. To many passengers, it appeared to be a miracle, but once Irving had found out that Moriarty had been in charge of the little boat’s navigation, it suddenly seemed a lot less miraculous.

“I took the liberty of ordering you breakfast,” the professor informed them, folding up his newspaper as they sat down oppos ite him. “I do hate to ruin a good meal with business, so let us conclude our dealings before it arrives, shall we? Give me the money and jewellery.”

Irving and Nora had discussed this trade at great length the previous night. They could have taken the money and run, however they would have then spent the rest of their lives living in fear of his retribution. They did not want Moriarty as an enemy; they doubted such people lived for long.

Instead, they had discussed how much they should ask to be paid for their participation. Nora had eventually persuaded Irving to simply see what Moriarty offered. He had so far proven to be a generous employer, having covered the costs of their tickets, clothes and hotel rooms. These were costs he would need to recoup.

Nora handed over a satchel, containing both the money and jewellery, which Moriarty checked with a glance and placed on to the seat beside him.

“You have removed nothing for yourselves?” he asked.

“No, sir.” Irving shook his head. “We leave the subject of pay to you.”

Moriarty nodded. “I offer you a quarter of our takings, or the opportunity to continue in my employ. Would you prefer to continue working for me?”

Both offers took them both by surprise.

The money would enable them to live well for many years, but the chance to continue working for him could lead to infinitely more.

They were granted a moment to consider the offer due to the arrival of a serving girl, who delivered three fried breakfasts to their table, causing them to suspend their discussion until she had moved on.

“It has been a profitable partnership, so far,” Nora replied, although oddly her eyes were focused on her plate rather than Moriarty. It was unlike her to appear so humble. “Would our quarter also include the value of the ship and cargo?”

Moriarty laughed. “I have one hundred and five witnesses, including her captain, who will all testify that the RMS Heroic is at the bottom of the ocean.”

“One hundred and four,” Nora pressed. “All I saw was a lot of smoke. And I can’t help but notice that the RMS Moriarty , docked outside, looks remarkably similar to the vessel in question, save for a little paint and the name on the side.”

“I underestimated you, Miss Crogan.”

“’Appens a lot, sir.” She smiled, using her knife to cut the bacon on her plate. “I’m assumin’ we’re eatin’ the livestock?”

Irving looked down, becoming properly aware of the sausages and bacon that he had piled on to the end of his fork.