Chapter 30:"Striking the Flag"
Striking the Flag - Striking the ensign was and is the universally recognized indication of surrender.
Holmes
Leaving Watson and Lachlan near the doorway, I entered the dining area and was accosted by the white-coated headwaiter.
"How many in your party, sir?"
"Actually, my party is already here," I replied, indicating Smith's empty seat at his table, "I shall just go and join him. Coffee, one sugar, if you please?"
I walked calmly up to Smith's table and seated myself. The man himself looked up briefly from his trout and smiled sardonically.
"Most people ask before taking a seat, Holmes."
"You know me well enough to know that I am not your average Englishman, Smith."
"Touché. You don't mind if I finish this?"
"Not at all," I said, lighting up a cigarette and sitting back in my chair.
I fingered the syringe in my pocket just a shade nervously, but I knew that my unease would not be visible to Smith. I was an incomparable actor, and I brought all my skills into play now.
Smith finished his meal and the waiter cleared his dishes when he brought me my coffee. Smith settled back to face me with a quizzical look.
"Well, Holmes. You have nerve, I will say that for you."
"As do you, Smith," I replied, "steady as always in the face of ruin."
Smith's face flushed dangerously.
"I am not sure yet that it is ruin, Holmes," he replied, looking at me piercingly with those eyes that gleamed with a slightly maniacal hatred.
"Really? I tossed your cultures and germs overboard, Smith," I said carelessly, "and you have nothing left."
Smith flashed me a wicked smile that I thought was rather overdone.
"You have no idea what I still have in store for you, Holmes," he told me with an eerie satisfaction that made me want to squirm with unease, "I guarantee you I have one surprise yet for you, you shall see."
"You know you haven't a chance, Smith?"
"Of evading capture? Yes, I know."
"Your plans have been ruined and you have nothing left – you cannot get away now."
"I was aware of that," the man replied calmly.
"What are you proposing to do with yourself then?"
"I am not going to stand trial and go to prison yet again, Holmes – especially not by your hand," the man said, his eyes gleaming dangerously.
"I hardly suspected you would."
"You are a strange man, Holmes. Sitting here calmly as you please, chatting with me over a cup of coffee, as if nothing were endangering you."
"Nothing is, Smith, is it?" I asked, eyeing him.
"Other than the fact that I have a gun trained on you under the table, you mean?" he asked calmly – and then I noticed that he indeed did have one hand under the table.
"You are not good at bluffing, Smith. Watson searched you."
"Not very thoroughly. This was hidden in an inside coat pocket. Very small but quite effective. I promise you, Holmes – if I have to go down in defeat, I am most definitely going to take you with me."
Smith just barely raised the weapon above the lip of the table to show me he was not bluffing, and I swallowed hard, knowing the next ten minutes were going to be rather tricky.
Watson
"Blast the son of a gun anyhow, what is he thinking!" Lachlan exclaimed, shifting his weight nervously to the other foot.
"He rarely thinks of ought else but the case when he is on it, Lachlan," I replied, resting my head on the side of the doorjamb as I watched the interview with growing trepidation.
"Well he should!"
"I have been telling him that for years, Lachlan. Arguing with Holmes is like telling the wind to stop in a thunderstorm. It does no good whatsoever," I said with a faint smile.
Lachlan swore a blue streak as Smith leaned forward to say something to Holmes, leering at him with a wicked smile.
"I sure hope he knows what he's doing, Doctor!"
"So do I, Lachlan. So do I."
Holmes
"You are more resourceful than I had thought, Smith. I am rather impressed."
"Thank you. And I might return the compliment to you, Holmes. I was rather dismayed to find out that you had somehow stumbled upon my schemes. I am rather interested to hear why you are not lying at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls, by the by."
"It is rather a long story," I replied calmly, my mind jumping around nervously, knowing that only my quick thinking and even quicker talking would save my own skin in this matter – I had not counted upon the man having a revolver.
I did not blame Watson in the least for not finding it – he had not had the time to make a thorough search; that should have been my first priority upon reaching my feet. I was in a trap of my own making and no one else's – and only I could get out of it now.
"I should like to hear it before I have to remove you from the scene, Holmes. I suppose I should be glad to go down in history as succeeding where Professor Moriarty evidently failed," the man said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Your only motive in all this was to go down in history, was it not?"
"You are smarter than I thought, Holmes. Yes, indeed. Fame is a rather powerful motive, you know?"
"We all have been guilty of the desire at some point," I replied, remembering my own words at the beginning of my career. I have it in me to make my name famous.
I shifted in my chair.
"Don't do that, if you please, Holmes. I should not like to have to shoot you before our conversation is concluded," the man said calmly, inspecting his nails with an infuriating nonchalance.
"Are you intending to shoot me and then yourself, Smith?"
"Precisely. I have no desire to stand trial and be hung for what England will call murder of those unfortunate souls on those vessels. British law does not allow for scientific research, does it?"
"When that research involves human lives, no!" I spat, not able to disguise my contempt for the madman.
"But surely in the interests of scientific advancement it would be worth losing a few to gain control over the mysteries of eastern disease? The world would be ringing with my name!" Smith said, his eyes taking on a gleam of maniacal excitement.
"Fame and fortune, recognition, membership in all the medical societies – you killed entire ships full of people for that?"
"You act as if it were some paltry triumph, Holmes. Do you understand what that would mean? The fame, the acclaim, the world bowing at my feet and worshipping me as a hero, the man who had found the cure for these dread diseases?"
I slowly had gotten my hand into my pocket and clenched it around the syringe.
"You murdered hundreds of people over recognition."
"I was not murder, Holmes – merely necessary expenditure to aid me in my plans."
I was having difficulty even with my intense self-control to refrain from showing the nausea I felt at this man's careless statement of his murderous schemes. The man filled me with revulsion, and I could hide the fact no longer.
"Ah, you can show feeling, Holmes. You are disgusted with me, I can see," Smith said coolly, sipping his coffee.
"Disgust is hardly the word I would have chosen," I said in a low voice, my loathing filling it with contempt.
"I can give you just ten more minutes of converse, Holmes. Then I am afraid I shall end this conversation," the man replied, leaning back and motioning for me to continue.
His calm, matter-of-fact attitude about facing his own suicide was merely another indication of how deranged he really was.
Could my intense logic even get through that insanity to carry out my plan?
Watson
I felt perspiration rolling down my neck as I watched Holmes with growing nervousness. I could see that Smith had one hand under the table and wondered if he held a weapon I had missed when I searched him. I prayed not, because at that range in that many people, Holmes would have no chance to defend himself.
"How long has he been in there, Doctor?"
"Quarter of an hour," I said in a low voice, my eyes never leaving the two men.
Holmes, for heaven's sake be careful!
Holmes
"You seem rather calm about ending your existence, Smith," I offered.
"And you seem equally calm about the fact that you will end yours just seconds before mine."
"Touché. But has it occurred to you, Smith, that there is a chance you might not be able to shoot yourself before someone prevents you? And then where will you be?" I asked, my hand clenching round the syringe in my pocket once again.
"No one will be able to stop me in time, Holmes."
"You do not know that. And you do not strike me as the gambling type, Smith."
"What are you driving at, Holmes? No, do not make any sudden moves!"
"I have no weapon," I said, very slowly drawing the syringe from my pocket and placing it on the table.
"I did not destroy all of your cultures, Smith. I saved one," I said slowly, trying to use the inexorable power in my eyes to make it through that haze of insanity surrounding the man's demented brain.
"And?"
"Well. Are you willing to chance getting away with killing yourself, or would you like to make it a certainty?" I asked slowly and calmly, watching for any flash of recognition in his clouded eyes.
Watson
I took a long breath, wiping my forehead free of perspiration, absently noticing that the rain and wind had stopped and my clothes were very gradually starting to dry.
"He's been in there for almost a half-hour," Lachlan whispered nervously.
"I know it."
"Try not to worry, Doctor – he knows what he is doing."
"He always does. And that is what frightens me so," I returned, rubbing my temples wearily.
Holmes
Smith looked from the syringe back to me and smiled mirthlessly.
"You are offering to help me in killing myself, Holmes? Why?"
"I am a dead man anyway," I replied, my brain thinking faster than I ever had before in my life, "and I want to ensure that I do not enter the veil alone, Smith. If I die, I most certainly want you to follow me."
That made a kind of odd sense, and evidently it registered with Smith's dementia in a kind of poetic justice. But he still looked skeptical.
"Besides, to be honest, Smith, I really do not want you loose to finish your revenge on Watson," I added.
A small gleam came back into his eyes.
"I want you dead as much as you do – more so, Smith," I said. That part at least was no bluff.
"Hmm."
"I have Watson and Lachlan watching us, Smith."
"I was aware of that."
"The instant they see me keel over they will be in here. And I guarantee Watson will be vindictive enough to want you to stand trial and hang. He won't allow you to kill yourself."
"I will be too fast for anyone to stop me."
"Perhaps. But there is still a chance, Smith. And you've never been one to deal in chances," I replied firmly, hoping desperately that the man would take the bluff – I was lost if he did not.
Watson
"You all right, Doctor?"
I nodded wordlessly, mopping my brow as the conversation showed no signs of letting up.
"Does he often indulge in this?"
"Beg pardon?"
"These theatrical performances?"
"I do not have grey hairs at my age for nothing," I attempted to joke weakly.
Lachlan chuckled.
"He's like a precocious child – and you're the worried parent."
"I wish I were sometimes, for then I could give him a sound thrashing!" I said vehemently, watching as Smith moved his hand under the table.
"Why does Smith only have one hand above the table?" Lachlan asked worriedly.
"I am afraid he has a gun under the table," I replied, watching the two men carefully, fingering the revolver in my pocket with growing nervousness, swallowing down the rising lump of cold fear in my heart.
"The devil."
"Quite."
"I certainly hope Holmes can pull this off, Doctor."
"You are not the only one," I whispered, my gaze never leaving the drama unfolding in front of us.
Holmes
"Think about it, Smith – you have always dealt in certainties, not chances."
Smith was regarding me carefully, and I swallowed down my nervousness, pulling all my acting and bluffing skills to the fore to convince him through that mania swirling round his formidable mind.
"I am suspicious of your motives, Holmes."
"I told you, Smith – I want to see you dead even more than you do!" I spat, genuine revulsion coloring my words more convincingly than I ever could have otherwise.
Smith regarded me for a long moment, glancing at the syringe on the table.
Then a thought hit me – the dosage would put him out within less than a minute, so heavy had I made it. But what would he do when he realized he had been tricked? That gun was still pointed at me under the table?
I had not thought through this as carefully as I should have. I gulped down a knot of nervousness as Smith picked up the syringe with his free hand and smiled.
"Actually, I believe for once we might agree on something, Holmes. You do know of course that you only have a few moments to live now?"
"As long as I can take you with me to the grave, Smith, that is all I care about at this point."
"Oh, you definitely will. Pardon me for a moment."
I held me breath as Smith removed his cuff link and felt round for a vein like an expert – I had no doubt he had used a syringe even more times than had I, albeit upon other people.
The next sixty seconds would tell the tale.
Watson
"He's doing it!" I hissed, jerking back to full awareness as I saw Smith pick up the syringe, say something to Holmes, and then remove a cufflink.
"He got him to do it?" Lachlan asked incredulously.
"Look! He's got the thing in his hand – there, he did it!"
"I don't believe it!"
"He did it!" I gasped again, "he really managed to pull it off!"
I slumped against the wall in my relief. Holmes had come through; he had known what he was doing.
He always did.
Holmes
I held my breath as Smith administered the dosage to himself with a sardonic smile.
"You wouldn't happen to know which of my lovely little pathogens you put in here, Holmes?" he asked, depressing the plunger and glancing up at me.
"One of the ones that was in your pocket, Smith, when we encountered you earlier below decks," I said, limply leaning back in my chair – I had done it, Smith had taken the barbiturate.
"Ah. Then I have two or three days, if my attempt tonight is not successful. I shall follow you into the next life before we reach a port, Holmes," he said with a wicked glare.
I felt perspiration trickling down my collar. It had been fifteen seconds – forty-five to go.
I wondered exactly which side of the table that gun was – I was going to have to grab for it to prevent a widespread alarm.
If Smith did not shoot me first.
Ten more seconds went by. Thirty-five to go.
"Well, Holmes, I do believe we have reached an end to this conversation."
"It would appear so," I said, outwardly calm but inwardly frantically nervous.
Twenty-five more seconds.
Smith's hand under the table moved to the right side. If I did not get that gun from him, he either would shoot me or one of the passengers dining behind me, completely unaware of what was going on.
Twenty seconds.
"I am sorry to end this unusual battle of wits, Holmes – you really…really have been…a most entertaining opponent," Smith said, his eyes darkening and his speech slurring somewhat.
I eyed the hand at the side of the table nervously.
Fifteen seconds.
Suddenly Smith sat bolt upright, his darkening eyes flashing with sudden comprehension.
"That was not…one of my diseases!" he gasped, fixing me with a malevolent glare that would have made a lesser man cower in fear.
"No, it was not," I replied coolly, eyeing the twitching hand half-hidden under the table.
Ten seconds.
Smith let loose with a string of filthy expletives that might have made Lachlan blush and I knew I had to act, now.
In the matter of three seconds I had slammed my chair backward, pulling the table with me to the floor and using it for a shield just as the gun went off. The bullet imbedded itself into the wood with a thud that I barely heard amidst the frightened screams from a few surrounding tables.
Then there was another thud as Smith collapsed limply on the pile of dishes with a resounding smash.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen – just a bit of trouble here, nothing to worry about," I heard a familiar midshipman's voice calling calmly over the small commotion.
"Holmes – are you hurt?"
I looked up to see Watson's worried face as he extended a hand to me which I took gratefully.
"Not a scratch."
"Thank God – why did I not find that gun when I searched him earlier?" he said in a tone of deep guilt, staring down at Smith's motionless body with a shudder.
"It was not your fault, Watson, I promise you that. So do stop berating yourself over it," I replied reassuringly.
"I am truly sorry, Holmes."
"You had no way of knowing, old chap – and it's all over now," I said gently, relief colouring my words.
"It is, isn't it. Well done, my dear fellow – I am sorry for doubting you."
"Do not be. I doubted myself," I returned with a rueful smile which he returned at once, immense relief flooding over both of us.
Culverton Smith had been bested at long last, for good this time.