Sorry, I've just had a very trying day. Can't say more but: Enjoy. . . (if
you can)
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"The choice is mine?" he whispered largely to himself. She smiled at him, as if she knew what was on his mind. It made him angry, extremely angry. "I, I," he stuttered, "I don't believe you. This is some sort of prank. I shall not be subject to such insolence. I'm going back. I don't belong here."
"Please stop." It did not escape him that she said "please." "We do need your help. Come and speak with my brothers. You will understand. Come." She entered the town-square, which was long deserted and cold. One could hear muffled snoring and dog barking once in a while, but no more. She walked around the bar, circled it and arrived at the back door. Her "walking stick" knocked on the plank door three times, and a pair of glittering shrewd eyes appeared at a small opening that opened with the sound of a gaol door.
"Ahh, Master Billy," these shifted toward Holmes, "I see that you have brought a friend today." Something clicked and the door swung open. Aline stepped in and gestured her companion to enter. She lifted a piece of sky blue cloth that covered the opening of another doorway. Bright candle light shone through, almost blinding the young man. It was a scene completely unexpected by him. Sitting around a giant fireplace were the young men from the party. Some of them reclined on the massive armchairs, a few were drinking scotch, and all were talking in low yet clear voices. Upon their entering, they all stopped and looked up with surprise on their faces.
"Why is he here, Aline?" Edward Rubrius did not hesitate to ask, "I thought the decision had not been reached."
"Drastic times call for drastic measures," Aline removed the scarf around her neck and sank down in a chair, "this just arrived." She held up a piece of telegram to her cousin, who glanced at it then passed it down to others.
"Blasted," he said, taking a mouthful from his glass, "I knew something like this was going to happen. That bloody coward jilted us." The comment produced quite a few murmurs and glances toward Holmes. "I'm afraid Aline's right. He's in, there's my vote." The others nodded and turned their eyes on Alinere.
"Is there something that you wish to say, Mr. Holmes?" the eyes all turned back to him again.
"Er, I, umm, a-hem," this was awkward. "Why exactly am I here?"
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, may I call you 'Sherlock'? And let me be 'Edward' to you," Receiving a positive response, Edward Rubrius stood up in his clear- cut elegant figure. He ran a hand through his shiny blonde hair then continued, "well, Sherlock, as you know about the Trinity Order." Alinere nodded to confirm his assumption, "we for years had been trying to keep Russia and Great Britain out of a direct conflict that might lead to a widespread European war. Just last year, we had to perform several missions and conventions between the two to resolve many misunderstandings. The Czar of Russia, however, has hired agents to acquire a list of British naval positions in the Baltic Sea. And the man who was to intercept it for us has disappeared." He banged his fist on the table, the ice in the glass clinked loudly.
"So what am I suppose to do?" It sounded awfully complicated, and nevertheless, romantic and dangerous.
Edward mouthed his words cautiously, "find him. Find the traitor for us."
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"Our target is the man so-called the 'Scarlet Ibis,' middle age, Caucasian, brown eyes, black hair, a highly visible scar on his right hand. His real name and origins are unknown. However, he is highly popular among London thieves and cutthroats." She handed Holmes a piece of paper and proceeded, "here is some information on his crime and activity records. Study it carefully." Apparently, she had already committed the list to her memory. "He was last heard from at 342 Bradley Street, north of London, yesterday morning. And believe me, four odds out of five, he's still in London. We'll have to hurry."
"Hurry?" then he read the list and forgot the problem of his parents getting in the way, "it says here that he had lived at Bradley Street for the past two months. I'd like to see the place first. Also, do you have connections to railway stations and sea ports?"
"That," she said with a self-satisfied tone, "are all taken care of. Our agents at all the ports, station, and posts were warn five hours ago." Her face then turned grim. "However, nothing turned up so far, which means he's still in London, unless he hitchhiked."
"No," Holmes shook his head, "he wouldn't have hitchhiked. It's too dangerous to go alone and he wouldn't have trusted anyone."
"How would you know that?" Maurice Hughenfort asked. Compared to the others, he was very young and innocent looking. Even compared to Alinere, who was as old as he was, he seemed inexperienced. It must be mentioned that Alinere was an expert member of the Trinity Order, and anyone could have seen that. Despite her girlish features and that disgusting green cap she was wearing, she commanded most attention and loyalty of the room.
"His line of profession signifies that. He belongs to the London's Forger Organization. Their code of conduct stressed not to trust anyone." Holmes bent his head down and continued to read, "it seems that he has a very high profile here. What made you think you could use him?"
"He is a traitor, that's why!" Edward appeared to be a tad high on the alcohol.
"A traitor?" the young detective frowned, "he is one of you?"
"No, he 'was,' but that's not important. We have to find him before he sets for Russia. By then, all would be lost."
A small voice whispered at the back of Holmes head, which was mainly engaged in memorizing the list he was given. He first ignored it, then it grew so loud for attention that he said to say something, "the murder of Count Kpachinsky. Does that relate to this by any chance?"
"Not in anyway that I can think of. At least not directly," Edward shrugged, then he looked at Alinere, and spoke more soberly than before, "his wife killed him, didn't she? It was all in the papers."
"People can be easily deceived," he murmured half-heartedly, "when is our search going to begin?" It meant a lot of investigating, questioning, and not to mention, shuffling.
"There's no better time than right now, m'dear Holmes."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The choice is mine?" he whispered largely to himself. She smiled at him, as if she knew what was on his mind. It made him angry, extremely angry. "I, I," he stuttered, "I don't believe you. This is some sort of prank. I shall not be subject to such insolence. I'm going back. I don't belong here."
"Please stop." It did not escape him that she said "please." "We do need your help. Come and speak with my brothers. You will understand. Come." She entered the town-square, which was long deserted and cold. One could hear muffled snoring and dog barking once in a while, but no more. She walked around the bar, circled it and arrived at the back door. Her "walking stick" knocked on the plank door three times, and a pair of glittering shrewd eyes appeared at a small opening that opened with the sound of a gaol door.
"Ahh, Master Billy," these shifted toward Holmes, "I see that you have brought a friend today." Something clicked and the door swung open. Aline stepped in and gestured her companion to enter. She lifted a piece of sky blue cloth that covered the opening of another doorway. Bright candle light shone through, almost blinding the young man. It was a scene completely unexpected by him. Sitting around a giant fireplace were the young men from the party. Some of them reclined on the massive armchairs, a few were drinking scotch, and all were talking in low yet clear voices. Upon their entering, they all stopped and looked up with surprise on their faces.
"Why is he here, Aline?" Edward Rubrius did not hesitate to ask, "I thought the decision had not been reached."
"Drastic times call for drastic measures," Aline removed the scarf around her neck and sank down in a chair, "this just arrived." She held up a piece of telegram to her cousin, who glanced at it then passed it down to others.
"Blasted," he said, taking a mouthful from his glass, "I knew something like this was going to happen. That bloody coward jilted us." The comment produced quite a few murmurs and glances toward Holmes. "I'm afraid Aline's right. He's in, there's my vote." The others nodded and turned their eyes on Alinere.
"Is there something that you wish to say, Mr. Holmes?" the eyes all turned back to him again.
"Er, I, umm, a-hem," this was awkward. "Why exactly am I here?"
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, may I call you 'Sherlock'? And let me be 'Edward' to you," Receiving a positive response, Edward Rubrius stood up in his clear- cut elegant figure. He ran a hand through his shiny blonde hair then continued, "well, Sherlock, as you know about the Trinity Order." Alinere nodded to confirm his assumption, "we for years had been trying to keep Russia and Great Britain out of a direct conflict that might lead to a widespread European war. Just last year, we had to perform several missions and conventions between the two to resolve many misunderstandings. The Czar of Russia, however, has hired agents to acquire a list of British naval positions in the Baltic Sea. And the man who was to intercept it for us has disappeared." He banged his fist on the table, the ice in the glass clinked loudly.
"So what am I suppose to do?" It sounded awfully complicated, and nevertheless, romantic and dangerous.
Edward mouthed his words cautiously, "find him. Find the traitor for us."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Our target is the man so-called the 'Scarlet Ibis,' middle age, Caucasian, brown eyes, black hair, a highly visible scar on his right hand. His real name and origins are unknown. However, he is highly popular among London thieves and cutthroats." She handed Holmes a piece of paper and proceeded, "here is some information on his crime and activity records. Study it carefully." Apparently, she had already committed the list to her memory. "He was last heard from at 342 Bradley Street, north of London, yesterday morning. And believe me, four odds out of five, he's still in London. We'll have to hurry."
"Hurry?" then he read the list and forgot the problem of his parents getting in the way, "it says here that he had lived at Bradley Street for the past two months. I'd like to see the place first. Also, do you have connections to railway stations and sea ports?"
"That," she said with a self-satisfied tone, "are all taken care of. Our agents at all the ports, station, and posts were warn five hours ago." Her face then turned grim. "However, nothing turned up so far, which means he's still in London, unless he hitchhiked."
"No," Holmes shook his head, "he wouldn't have hitchhiked. It's too dangerous to go alone and he wouldn't have trusted anyone."
"How would you know that?" Maurice Hughenfort asked. Compared to the others, he was very young and innocent looking. Even compared to Alinere, who was as old as he was, he seemed inexperienced. It must be mentioned that Alinere was an expert member of the Trinity Order, and anyone could have seen that. Despite her girlish features and that disgusting green cap she was wearing, she commanded most attention and loyalty of the room.
"His line of profession signifies that. He belongs to the London's Forger Organization. Their code of conduct stressed not to trust anyone." Holmes bent his head down and continued to read, "it seems that he has a very high profile here. What made you think you could use him?"
"He is a traitor, that's why!" Edward appeared to be a tad high on the alcohol.
"A traitor?" the young detective frowned, "he is one of you?"
"No, he 'was,' but that's not important. We have to find him before he sets for Russia. By then, all would be lost."
A small voice whispered at the back of Holmes head, which was mainly engaged in memorizing the list he was given. He first ignored it, then it grew so loud for attention that he said to say something, "the murder of Count Kpachinsky. Does that relate to this by any chance?"
"Not in anyway that I can think of. At least not directly," Edward shrugged, then he looked at Alinere, and spoke more soberly than before, "his wife killed him, didn't she? It was all in the papers."
"People can be easily deceived," he murmured half-heartedly, "when is our search going to begin?" It meant a lot of investigating, questioning, and not to mention, shuffling.
"There's no better time than right now, m'dear Holmes."