Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [20]
Ives glanced at it dismissively ‘We take it with us,’ he said. ‘The boss wants it. He wants it almost as bad as he wants Booth, here.’
Berle shook the jar dubiously. ‘You sure it’s still alive?’
‘It had better be. The boss ain’t a man known for his patience when it comes to being let down, an’ this thing’s come all the way from Borneo.’ His face fell into concerned lines. ‘I once heard that a servant of his dropped a pitcher of iced mint julep on the veranda one time. Duke just looked at him, not sayin’ anythin’. The servant started to shake, an’ he backed away down the garden to where it ended in a riverbank, shakin’ all the time and cryin’, an’ he walked backwards into the river an’ just disappeared, out of sight. Like he was hypnotized. Never seen again. Duke once said there are alligators in that river, but I don’t know if he’s tellin’ the truth.’
Berle looked dubious. ‘I would’ve thought Duke would use one of those two things he has on leashes. Ain’t they supposed to be his killers?’
‘Maybe he just wanted to make a point. Maybe those things weren’t hungry’ Ives shook his head. ‘It don’t matter. That thing’s comin’ with us, all the way home.’
He pushed Sherlock down the corridor towards the stairs with the barrel of the gun.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ Sherlock asked.
‘Can’t shoot you,’ Ives mused. ‘Not unless you give me no choice. If a kid’s body is found with a ball in it then there’ll be some kind of investigation, and the house with four foreigners in it is going to be the first place the police look. Could inject you with an overdose of one of Berle’s drugs, I suppose, but that’s a waste. We might need those drugs, the rate Booth’s getting through them. No, I think I’ll just suffocate you with a rag in your mouth. That way there’s no obvious signs of violence. There’s a quarry a few miles away. I’ll put you in the cart, cover you up with some sacking and drive you out there. There’s plenty of holes in the ground I can throw you into. If you’re ever found, the authorities’ll assume you just fell in and hit your head.’
‘Is it really so important?’ Sherlock asked.
‘Is what so important?’
‘Whatever you’re doing here? Is it really so important that you need to kill me to make sure nobody ever finds out?’
Ives laughed. ‘Oh, people’ll find out all right. The world will find out in time, but that’s a time of our choosing.’
Sherlock was at the top of the stairs by now, and Ives gestured to him to head down, towards the first floor. Reluctantly Sherlock obeyed. He knew he had to make a break for it some time, but if he tried now then Ives would just shoot him and find some other way of disposing of his body so that it would never be found. Apart from causing Ives some momentary inconvenience, Sherlock was pretty sure that running now would achieve nothing. Maybe he’d get a chance when they got out into the open air.
Heading down the stairs he felt something underneath the sole of his shoe; something lying on the carpet. Before he could see what it was, Ives had pushed him onward. He turned, curious, just in time to see a length of string suddenly pull tight across the stairs, from banister to panelled wall. It was the string, lying on the carpet, that he had stepped on.
Ives’s foot caught under the string as he was going down to the next step. His body kept on moving while his foot stayed where it was, trapped. His eyes widened comically as he fell forward. His hands scrabbled for the wall and the banister, his right hand banging the revolver against the panelling of the wall before he dropped it. Sherlock stepped to one side as Ives fell past him. The man hit the stairs with his shoulder and rolled in an ungainly way, over and over, until he hit the first floor and lay, sprawled, across the carpet.
Sherlock glanced over the