The Beekeeper's Apprentice - Laurie R. King [88]
“Then he went out the window and made his escape, all of that in little over an hour. A formidable man, Mr. Dickson.”
“And yet, thirty hours later he makes a fatal mistake and dies in blowing up an empty house,” Holmes said thoughtfully.
“Your young lady has brought up another point worthy of consider-ation,” Mycroft Holmes said. “That is the fact of Dickson’s familiarity with her habits. The same could surely be said of his—their— awareness of your own movements.”
“That I check my hives before retiring? Surely most beekeepers do so?”
“But you yourself state that to be your habit, in your book?”
“I do, yes, but had it not been then, it would have been in the morning.”
“I cannot see that it would have made much difference,” agreed Mycroft.
“I suppose I ought to purchase a dog,” said Holmes unhappily. “However, no published account that I know of includes Miss Russell.”
“Our collaboration is no doubt common knowledge in the village.” “So, this opponent has read your book, knows the village, knows Oxford.”
“Lestrade must be made aware of these facts,” said Holmes. “There is also the matter of the use of children as messengers.”
“An uncomfortable similarity with my Irregulars, you feel?”
“I do. You said, though Watson forgot today, that they are invisible.”
“I dislike the idea of a murderer employing children,” said Holmes darkly.
“It is, I agree, bad for their morals, and interferes with their sleep.”
“And their schooling,” added Holmes sententiously.
“But who?” I broke in desperately. “Who is it? Surely there cannot be all that many of your enemies who hate you enough to kill off not only you but your friends as well, who have the money to hire bombers and watchers, and who have the wits to put all this conspiracy to-gether?”
“I sat up until the wee hours contemplating precisely that question, Russell, with absolutely no results. Oh, there are any number of people who fit the first category, and a fair handful of those would have the fi-nancial means, but that third characteristic leaves me, to borrow your word, baffled. In all my varied acquaintance I cannot call to mind one who fits with what we know of the mastermind behind these attacks.”
“There is a mastermind, you would say?” I asked.
“Well, a mind, certainly. Intelligent, painstaking, at the least mod-erately wealthy, and absolutely ruthless.”
“Sounds like Moriarty,” I said jokingly, but he took it seriously. “Yes, remarkably like him.”
“Oh, Holmes, you can’t mean—”
“No, no,” he hastened to add. “Watson’s account was accurate enough; the man is dead. No, this feels very like another Moriarty, come on us unawares. I think the time has come for me to renew my contacts with the criminal world in this fair city.” His eyes gleamed at the prospect, and my heart sank.
“Today? Surely your brother here—”
“Mycroft moves in circles rather more exalted than those I have in mind. His is the realm of espionage and political backstabbing, with only a peripheral interest in the world of retired bombers and hungry street urchins. No, I must go and ask questions of certain friends.”
“I shall join you.”
“That you most definitely will not. Don’t look at me like that, Rus-sell. I am not protecting your gentle virtue, although I admit that there are sights to be seen underground in London that might give even your eyes pause. It is a job for a specific old man, a man already known to be an occasional visitor to the dregs of London society. A companion would cause comment, and tongues would not flap so freely.”
“But your back?”
“Is very well, thank you.”
“What did Watson say?” I persisted.
“That it was healing more quickly than I deserved,” he said in tones that said very clearly that the matter was closed. I gave in.
“You wish me to remain here today?”
“That will not be necessary, as long as you are not followed. In fact, it is probably best if you are not here, and if they are aware