Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [53]
Something pushed him hard in the small of his back. He fell forward, stumbling into the cabin. Another push and he was on the floor, just managing to miss the edge of the bunk bed by twisting his head and curling up. The carpet burned against his face as he hit it. He curled round, looking up at the doorway.
Grivens shut the door behind him. His faded blue eyes were suddenly as cold and as hard as marbles.
‘You think yourself clever, yes?’ he snapped. Sherlock caught his breath at the abrupt change of attitude from servitude to anger. ‘I’ve broken better men than you in half. You think I didn’t realize you were going to follow me here to see if I was searching your cabin? I noticed you checking out my tattoo, and I could tell by your eyes that you recognized it from yesterday, when I was watching the three of you. So I made you think I was going to search your cabin, and I lured you back here.’
‘To do what?’ Sherlock asked. He was finding it difficult to catch his breath lying on the floor, twisted around like that.
‘To get you off this ship. You, then the other two.’
‘Off this ship?’ Sherlock’s mind took a second or two to catch up. ‘You mean – throw us off? Into the Atlantic? But we’ll be missed!!’
‘The Captain might even turn around, steam back and look for you, but it won’t do any good. You won’t last half an hour in that water.’
Sherlock’s mind was racing, trying to work out how this had happened. You’re not part of this. You can’t be. The men we’re following wouldn’t have known which ship we were going to take – if we were going to take one at all.’
‘All I know is they paid me to keep an eye out for three travellers – a big man in a white hat and two kids. Maybe with another man – a fat man – maybe not. A third of the money now and two-thirds if they see a report in the papers of three or four passengers vanishing overboard.’
‘But how did they know we’d take this ship?’ Sherlock asked. Then he realized. ‘They paid off someone on every ship?’
Grivens nodded. ‘Every ship leaving for the next few days, anyway. That’s my guess. They found most of us in the same place – a bar where the ships’ stewards hang out between voyages.’
‘But how much would that cost them?’
Grivens shrugged. ‘Not my problem, as long as they have enough left to pay me when I get to New York. They didn’t seem short of cash.’ He reached forward and grabbed Sherlock’s hair. ‘They said they’d pay extra if I could get you to tell me how much you know about their plans. You can do it the easy way, without pain, and I’ll do you the favour of making sure you’re unconscious when I throw you over the side, yes? Or you can do it the difficult way, in which case I’ll have to snip your fingers off with a cigar cutter, one by one, until you tell me, and then throw you overboard still conscious.’
‘I’ll shout out!’ Sherlock blustered. ‘People will hear.’
‘Didn’t I mention?’ Grivens said. ‘I started off as a ship’s chandler, making sails, before I became a steward. Your fingers never forget the feel of an iron needle going through canvas. I’ll sew your lips shut with thick twine, boy, just for the pleasure of looking into your frightened eyes when I throw you overboard.’ He paused. ‘Now, answer the question. How much do you know about the plans of these Yanks?’
He leaned forward, reaching for Sherlock’s hair. The iridescent blue tattoo on his wrist seemed to glow in the darkness of the cabin.
Sherlock lashed out with his booted foot, catching Grivens in the groin. The steward folded nearly double, grunting in pain.
Sherlock scrambled to his feet. Grabbing Grivens’s shoulder, he pulled him forward. The man fell, and Sherlock scrabbled to get past him and through the doorway.
The steward’s hand grabbed for Sherlock’s ankle. He pulled hard, dragging Sherlock back into the room. Sherlock twisted, lashing out with his free foot and catching Grivens above the eye. He released Sherlock with a spat curse and fell backwards.
Sherlock knew that he had to escape, and then he had to get to Amyus Crowe. He launched himself towards the