Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [89]
Balthassar nodded. ‘Well done. Yes, we have raised an army, several thousand strong, which is encamped not too far away from here. They have been finding their way here for several months, in dribs and drabs so as not to attract attention. With John Wilkes Booth as our figurehead – our mascot, if you like – we will march up and take the port of Halifax in order to prevent British resupply, then cut communication links between Eastern and Western Canada by capturing Winnipeg. We can then move through the country and capture Quebec and the Great Lakes region. Once that is done we can carve out a new nation where like-minded Confederates can join us and keep slaves, as God intended.’
‘But why Canada?’ Sherlock asked.
‘Good land for growing crops, a temperate climate – at least near the border with America – excellent harbours for trade purposes, no army to speak of to resist our advance, and of course it is a British territory, recently confederated. And Britain refused to aid us in our battle against the Union.’
‘The British Government will never let Canada go,’ Sherlock said, thinking of Mycroft.
‘They probably won’t even care,’ Balthassar scoffed. ‘Just think of the logistics of shipping their army three thousand miles for a battle, especially when we control the ports. No, there will be a few years of diplomatic bleating, of course, but we will control Canada.’
‘With you as President?’ Sherlock asked. ‘A man in a china mask?’
Balthassar’s head jerked to one side. Sherlock’s words had hit home.
‘John Wilkes Booth, perhaps,’ he answered tersely. ‘With the proper guidance and medication, of course. Or perhaps even General Robert E. Lee. There are plenty of candidates. But I will be the power behind the throne.’
The sudden motion disturbed one of the smaller leeches. It fell from his face and hit the table with a quiet plop. Balthassar glanced at it. ‘Old,’ he said, ‘one of my longest serving partners. I think it’s time to retire you, my friend.’
He picked it up from the tablecloth and popped it into his mouth, then swallowed like a man eating an oyster.
Sherlock noticed that the leech had left a red smear on the tablecloth. He kept his gaze fixed on that red smear. He had a feeling he might throw up if he didn’t fixate on something. Anything.
‘I must say,’ Balthassar murmured in his fragile, whispery voice, delicately replacing the porcelain mask on his scarred and leech-infested face, ‘you have demonstrated an uncanny ability to predict my plans from a few scattered facts. Either that, or my plans are considerably more obvious than I had thought. Either way, I cannot afford to delay. If you – a mere child – can work them out then surely the Unionist Government can work them out too. I think that our advance into Canada needs to start within the next few days. Thank you for your assistance.’
‘And what about us?’ Virginia asked. Sherlock was proud of how level she kept her voice.
‘Oh, I have no need of you now,’ Balthassar said. There was no trace of anger or vengeance in his voice. There was barely a trace of anything at all. He might just as easily have been discussing the price of tea leaves. ‘You will be disposed of
‘How?’ Sherlock asked.
Ah,’ Balthassar’s porcelain face was impassive. ‘There, I confess, I may have misled you. I have a fate in mind for you which will solve three separate problems I have, but it does involve quite a lot of pain and suffering.’ He gestured to the brutal Rubinek. ‘Captain, please take our guests to the new enclosure. My latest acquisitions need to be fed.’ He turned back to Sherlock. ‘My collectors of rare and unusual creatures made sure they had eaten before they were captured,’ he said conversationally, ‘and it takes them several weeks to digest their food, during which time they are almost comatose, but they have had a long journey from Borneo and their current behaviour suggests they are hungry again.’ He paused, and Sherlock suspected that he was smiling beneath the mask. ‘I anticipate that they