Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 11

 

11.

 

Nayland discarded his coolie disguise and was back at his regular drinking stop, nursing the stout he was served. It was like any ordinary English drinking spot, Lancelot’s Trough, the wooden entrance to the rowdy bar, where the regular patrons mingled at the four round tables or the long bar, taking their drinks and sharing lewd topics. On that afternoon, it was filled to the brim, and Nayland took his regular seat by the long bar.

The bartender was busy cleaning his glasses when the newly arrived patron walked in. Calvin, the bartender, has a good eye on all his patrons and knows his regulars like the back of his hand, most times forgetting what they like but not their looks.

An ale, bitter or mild, dark, or brown, comes with the mood. The choice may change the shape of your mood in different ways.” Calvin learned from his serving. “Old Paddy may win at the horses and ask for a pint of ale or lose at them and ask for a bitter ale. He has his choices known, and I served them.”

“Drink, guvnor?” Calvin stepped to the spot opposite the newly arrived. He had studied the man who stepped in. The dark frock coat over the lighter pants and working shoes complete with a top hat. The frock coat had a slight bulge under the left armpit. The man was looking at the bar counter when he sat down, two seats from Nayland from the left.

“A pint of the old ale, please.” The person muttered, but Calvin picked up the syllable. The bartender turned to serving then.

It happened fast, and Nayland was off his seat when the butcher knife swung at his face. He stepped back and looked at the attacker. The man who attacked him had he knife taken from the frock coat and was leveled at Nayland.

“Die…" The attacker barely finished his sentence when the long-handled club held by Calvin impacted the back of his head. The attack fell to the floor. Nayland stepped over and kicked the knife away.

“Bloody good move, Calvin.” Nayland smiled.

“Bloody effort of his on my regular deserved a whack on the head.” Calvin replaced his club. The other patrons cheered the effort by the bartender.

“Good on you, Calvin.” One of the patrons cheered. “We know you got our back any day.”

“Well, as long as you cleared your tabs here.” Calvin replied. He then looked at Nayland. “Your pal here needs some work on his choice of hospitality. I do not condone bad manners.”

It would have ended then, but the attacker has pals outside who stormed in. Three of them charged at Nayland swinging ice picks. They were all similarly dressed and equally vicious in their movements.

The right attacker did an upper swing at Nayland, who ducked on the move and used his body to slam into the middle one. His body slam propels them into the doorway, and there Nayland rolled aside to avoid the left attacker. The left attacker's ice pick barely missed Nayland, but the latter was moving further to the right. He grabbed a chair and swung it at the attacker. The chair impacted the left attacker on the chest, and then Nayland used the momentum to swing the chair at the other remaining attacker.

Three of his attackers were on the flooring, and Nayland looked to Calvin for assistance.

“Have a go, mate.” Calvin tossed the club over. The club was made from hardwood, and measured two feet with the heavier dimension on the end. It was a handy weapon for bludgeoning. Nayland caught it with his right hand and swung the club at the nearest left attacker. It impacted hard on the side of the head, and then with his intent, he thrust the club into the middle attacker's face and did a tight twist of his right wrist to swing the club into the last attacker.

“How’s that?” Nayland called out in glee. The other patrons joined in and grabbed the attackers by their limbs to toss them out.

“Drinks on me.” Nayland laughed. He then picked up the ice pick and examined it. The design consists of a sharp metal spike attached to a handle. During the era then, ice blocks were gathered from frozen water sources and distributed to nearby homes. Ice picks were used to easily cut the blocks into smaller pieces for use. its availability and ability to puncture the skin easily, the ice pick has sometimes been used as a weapon. 

“Ice breakers?” Calvin asked.

“Nay, probably killers who preferred that weapon.” Nayland shook his head. He then excused himself and walked to the Foreign Office.

“Bloody time you took there.” Mycroft took a puff on his cigar, seated at the chamber assigned to him. “If I had known you would be late, I would have suggested the club.”

“I have my share of the club today. I did find it useful to stop three attackers.” Nayland sat himself on the seat in front of Mycroft’s desk.

“Attacked? By golly, you are an attraction from the murderous chaps.” Mycroft smiled.

“A lady once. All I said to her was "Good day.” Nayland sighed.

“Probably sounded like a good lay to her given your East London accent.” Mycroft smiled. “And …….”

“Why am I recalled here?” Nayland cut to the subject matter.

“I have a new threat. Fu Manchu is in hibernation, presumably. The new threat here is the Oni Society.” Mycroft placed the cigar on the ashtray. “The Minister of Exchequer and other notable names have been murdered. I need your expertise to work on this.”

“One, I am not an expert on the Oni Society. I heard of them when I was in China. Two, I am a field operative and not a detective.”

“Nayland, I am assigning you to work with Doctor Mitsui Ogata. He is…."

“He is a… His name is known to me. From my reading, he is top-ranked, and there were reasons that he may be more than any dignitary. He …….”

“He brought up the issue to us just before the murder of the minister. We are trying to find the link here. but without having someone working with him, I cannot place the link at all.”

“Why not Ito Matsuke?” Nayland asked. “He is……"

“He is… for now, unrelated here.” Mycroft looked at Nayland.

“Hold your barrels there, Mycroft. Are you telling me Ito could be involved?”

“I am not to deny or comment on that. You will work with Doctor Mitsui Ogata. He is at the Brown’s Hotel, Dover Street. He will meet you for afternoon tea. Or perhaps not, but be a good lad; keep an eye on him."

Meanwhile, Doctor Mitsui Ogata was having his early lunch at the café near the hotel. He was having the taste of the legendary “Hot Brown” sandwich, an open-face turkey sandwich with bacon, pimentos, and a delicate mornay sauce. It was not from the hotel but a replica nearby at the café. It was a small café that had the sign; we served the second-best sandwich at an affordable price. He was served a pot of tea with the dainty cup. There were four tables inside, and only two tables were occupied.

“May I take a seat?” The Japanese did not look up to the one who asked. He was staring at the spread of the sandwich. The figure took the seat opposite of him, and it was a lady dressed in the sequined dress and round hat.

“The professor will address you now. He is seated behind you.” The lady smiled.

“Pardon the theatrics here, but I am a careful person.” The man seated back-to-back with the Japanese spoke.

“No, explanation required.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata replied and wrapped his right fingers around the cup of tea. “How are you, Professor Moriarty?”

“Absolutely well, Doctor Mitsui Ogata. Welcome to London…. Well, officially in your presence.”

“Arigato, Professor. I am here on diplomatic channels.” The other smiled. “I was expecting you……. Much later. How is the emperor?”

“Fu Manchu? I heard he is doing well at the retreat of his. He is not your concern here, I presumed.” The man addressed the professor, as he said. “Your presence here officially as the ranking member of the Empire of Japan is most intriguing, but will there be a conflict of interest to the Oni Society’s?”

“I am here on an official matter of…both," Doctor Mitsui Ogata replied. “One, for the ruling government, who has expressed the desire to form the treasury functions like the Bank of England.”

"Officially it may be the objective, but your true purpose was to retrieve the mining details of the dark continent.” The professor said. “Forming the Treasury Bank is only better if the vaults are loaded with items of value.”

“You are well informed, Professor.”

“The variables led to the equation. Minister Leeson was the one variable. The other killings were deemed random, but they formed a series of patterns.” The professor took his sip of tea. “Most notably, on the mining of minerals and Africa.”

“You are making too many presumptions.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata smiled at the lady. “Mining is not a major variable in Africa……… now. Cultivation of rubber takes precedence.”

“It was then, but the variables pointed to your society. In the last six months, members of the society were seen in London, Dover, and even Glasgow. They were then identified at the scenes of the killings. The killing methods were precise, and their task was to retrieve the needed reports.”

“These may be random killings and do not add to one equation.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata smiled. “I believed the numbers were low here in London; perhaps around five hundred per annum.”

“I disagreed. Those were the reported ones, but the undiscovered ones added up twice the number.” The professor sounded his unfactored variable. “Back to the society. You are here because the results of your disciples are incomplete, and you needed conclusive reports, which the minister was deemed to hold. And more to it, three of your disciples are missing, presumably dead, and you suspected that I was involved.”

“I do not have that conclusion, Professor.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata smiled. “But it did cross my mind.”

“Viola! You came here to challenge me. Doctor Mitsui Ogata, there is a Western saying, "The town isn't big for the two of us.” The professor smiled. “I have one named Holmes on my… stepping on my shadow there.”

“I……"

“Pardon me, Doctor Mitsui Ogata. What baffles me is why you acted so brash on the minister? He was your final variable, and yet you had him killed.”

“I applaud you, Professor. But your variables here may be in error.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata said. “One, I did not kill the… nor was instrumental in the killing of the minister. It was told to me. I was surprised there. He was another puzzle to my needs, or the opening to a bigger puzzle, and yet he was… killed."

“Two, I was surprised that Sherlock Holmes was called in to the discussion. I did not request his presence.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata took another sip of the tea. “However, you are generous to tell me that to tell you of my disciples here. I was missing three of them, but being killed was not in my variable of assumption. Since you laid out that variable, I will take it as the factor of their disappearance.”

“However, the works of the Oni Society do not get overlooked in my backyard. I lay down the rules and conditions here. No one acts here without my permission, including your disciple, Ito Matsuke.” Professor Moriarty made his point across. “Now that we are mutually understood and there are no more open variables, please. May I suggest that you take caution in your stay here.” The professor said. “And do take the sandwich at the hotel. It is the best and worthy of being included in your expense billings.”

“Arigato, Professor.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata smiled once more. He saw the glance of the lady over his left shoulder. “I believed the professor had left the café.”

“Good day, Doctor Mitsui Ogata.” The lady stood up and waggled off to the doorway. The doctor turned his back and saw the arrival of new patrons to the café. He then left and walked to the hotel. A telegram was sent that day to Tokyo.

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 10

 

10.

 

Sherlock asked for permission to revisit the exchequer’s office. He made the request through Mycroft and then to the Prime Minister.

“Shelly, you need not go over my head there? I know you were invited by the PM, but between us brothers, we could keep it ……. Informal.” Mycroft sat at the minister's desk while watching the brother of his pacing the chamber. “We have searched every inch of the chamber, his personal vault, and … found nothing there. I meant any reference to the Oni Society.”

Sherlock was still not satisfied and looked at every nook and crack on the book shelves.

“If you want to keep a secret, hide it even from yourself," Sherlock muttered. He looked at the rows of books there.

"Hmmm…Adam Smith, ‘The Wealth of Nations’ (1776). David Ricardo, 'On the Principles of Political Economy and Taxation' (1817)." Sherlock's fingers tapped on the spines of the books there.

“Karl Marx - Das Kapital (Volume I, 1867), the most exciting critique of capitalism and its modes of production. And yet this book is here in the chamber.” Sherlock smiled. “I can understand John Stuart Mill's Principles of Political Economy (1848) and Jean-Baptiste Say's A Treatise on Political Economy (1803).”

Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure – John Cleland (1748). Never read that, but intriguing to see it here.” Sherlock took the book out and read the first page, which was where a dedication was inked: "To Brian, lots of love from here." Mindy Kewala.”

“Not relevant to the case here.” Sherlock replaced the book. “Nothing on Africa or Asia... I doubt there will be any that modern economists will have read.”

“Were there any?”

“Actually, there were. Some of the oldest texts were from there.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft. “Discourses on Salt and Iron (Yan Tie Lun, 81 BCE) regarding state-operated industries (salt and iron), covering taxation, trade, and economic freedom, and Shihuozhi (Treatise on Economy) circa 1st century CE: a dedicated section on agricultural policy, currency, taxes, and government economic management.”

“Shelly, have you read any books in your field of expertise? I am referring to old books.” Mycroft taunts his brother.

“Yes, I did. There were some texts not taught in my college. There was Antoine Lavoisier’s Traité élémentaire de chimie (1789), considered the first modern textbook… Andreas Libavius’s Alchemia (1597), often cited as the first true textbook.” Sherlock cited the books' titles. “I read Nicolas Lémery’s Cours de Chymie (1675) and Joseph Priestley’s Experiments and Observations on Different Kinds of Air (1775-1777)."

“One day, someone will read mine on the process of deductions," Sherlock smiled. “As he read all of these here.”

“Here are some of those books and handwritten notes.” Sherlock pulled the bundles of papers out. “Interesting, these are notes on the booming era of the Congo states. Studies of minerals in the states.”

“Mycroft, what was Ms. Kewala's role here?”

At the estate of the Greystokes, Mrs. Greystokes sat with Mindy, their guest, in the library. The guest of theirs looked at the rows of books there. She was tempted to approach the shelves and ran her fingers over the books.

“Jane, you knew of my passion for reading. I read all the books I could get. I patronized the missionary churches there for their books.”

“Yes, Mindy. You borrowed all my books then.” Mrs. Greystokes smiled. “John used to bring in boxes of it, and you were there to read it."

“I did, and it was what invoked inside me to leave my father’s side then.” Mindy sighed. “That was one of the reasons. The groom was not too bad a lover to have, but I am not ready to be attended by midwives… yet."

“Mindy, about Brian…"

“Jane, we are not lovers as said by many. I am… or rather my association is purely friendship and mutual respect on the development of my father’s land in economic terms. He likes the subject, and we do spend a lot of hours together on it.” Mindy laughed. “Brian is an older man, twice my age, and I doubt he can match my prowess in sex.”

“I bought him the book titled Fanny Hill to flirt with him, but we never crossed the line there. It was all platonic.”

“Mindy, I apologize. It was ……”

“Rumours. We have our share of it. Like if John were as savage in his love.” Mindy laughed.

“He may be," Mrs. Greystokes laughed.

“Let me be serious here. Prior to last week, I was doing extensive design work on my father’s land. I was getting reports on the mineral contents there and how to extract them. We were to discuss it further at the country retreat and then present it to the other ministers when…… All this happened.” Mindy's tears welled up. “I am unsure, but it could be what the killers wanted.”

“Where are the notes?” Mrs. Greystoke asked.

“I hid them… in the house… my house.” Mindy looked at the lady.

Doctor Mitsui Ogata was marvelled at by the sight of the new Kew Garden. He was told there was an influx of local plants from his own country. The ants following Japan's 1854 reopening, with species like Aucuba japonica becoming popular. 

‘I guess they have never seen a real plant.’ Doctor Mitsui Ogata muttered.

“When Japan reopened her borders in 1854, foreign visitors and plant collectors rushed abroad to study the newly revealed wonders of this exotic world. One was a London nurseryman, John Gould Veitch, who in the 1860s sent back a range of Japanese trees and plants to his nurseries at Coombe Wood at Kingston upon Thames in Surrey; and Robert Fortune, who imported a range of exotic species to the British market.”

"The Japanese concept of the beautiful exotic garden had taken place here.” It was Ito Matsuke dressed in the grey tweed suit and homburg hat. “Gardens are their favorite pastimes."

“You are a good emissary of Japan.” Doctor Mitsui Ogata continued his stare at the plants.

“Arigato, Sensei.” Ito Matsuke did a low bow toward the senior member of the Oni Society. “I lived to serve the society."

"Seishi ichinyo" (生死一如), meaning "life and death are oneness, suggesting they are not opposites but part of a continuous, natural cycle. Doctor Mitsui Ogata said to his disciple.

“Hai, Kishi kaisei" (起死回生), meaning "wake from death and return to life," signifying a dramatic turnaround from hopelessness. Ito Matsuke bowed once again. “I know my true purpose now.”

"Have you done the task I had given?” Mitsui asked.

“Yes, I have. Your name was mentioned to Mycroft as requested.”

“A false trail perhaps, or a set trap.” The sensei said. “It was unexpected that the brother was to be there, but I will enjoy the challenge to match wits.”

“Why ……”

“Do not raise questions when they are of no necessity, Ito. Since you asked, I will be brief here. I am unaware of the workings of the plan.” Mitsui snapped at the other. “The needed answers were not with the minister; or rather we were abrupt to had it ended then. Then his untimely death and someone had searched the chamber. His country home, as make known to me was searched, and the lady was gone missing. That is now your task. Find Ms. Kewala. She may fit the pieces there.”

“Hai.” Ito bowed to his sensei.

"Sensei, Mycroft asked, on Nayland. Smith Nayland of the…"

“I know Smith Nayland. He was in China, the nemesis of Fu Manchu.”

“The crime emperor is also … missing, Sensei. I was to track him in London, but nothing was heard.” Ito sighed. “Another was on his trail, Charlie Song. He is working with Nayland.”

“Nayland? Why would Mycroft seek him? He is a wild card here.” Mitsui pondered on the questions. “The elderly Fu Manchu is another puzzle I need to fit in. Go now and report on Nayland.”

Ito Matsuke took his leave of the sensei. 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 9

 

9.

 

The Limehouse district of the East End was the epicenter of the Chinese community then; it was a small, vibrant community of about five hundred people, catering to sailors with boarding houses, laundries, and grocery stores. The population there was a mix of Irish or East End women and the migrants, creating a mixed-race community. They were the earlier migrants who were brought to Britain to load and unload ships in London’s docks and other ports across the country. They were recruited by the East India Company and other British shipping companies. Chinese communities settled in two parts of Limehouse.

People from different parts, like the Shanghainese, lived in Pennyfields, Amoy Place, and Ming Street, while the southerners lived in Limehouse Causeway and Gill Street. Residents rented rooms in terraced houses of multiple occupants, squeezed among the factories and dockyards. The community replicated their own versions of home, including the tea houses, ever popular for a chat over a cup of tea brewed with authentic Chinese tea leaves.

The teahouse held its own identity whether it was in mainland China or London. It was the living area where the patrons could sit there and enjoy their tea or snacks, while conversations were of various topics, from the chaos of the land to the bargaining in the trade deals. Or over differing philosophies on life events. Simply adapted, varied vocal tones, but ever the resilient sanctuary for connection.

The chap seated at the corner, nursing the small cup containing the hot tea, was dressed like a coolie, the derogatory term for a male servant of Chinese descent, and worn on his feet were wooden sandals. He had on a wide conical straw hat that covered his upper face, but the unmistakable thick mustache gave the impression he was not of local descent.

Another figure sat down across from the chap, similarly dressed without the hat, but had on the pigtail for his hair design.

“The dragon resides in the cloud, while the tigers roam the hills.” The new chap spoke out while he took a fresh cup to pour his tea. He spoke with a Chinese dialect accent to blend in.

“If the Heavenly Father permits, where can I locate the cloud that housed the dragon?" The chap with the conical hat spoke with the similar drawl of the accent.

“The dragon remained hidden with the deities there; however, the tigers are devouring anyone looking for the dragon.”

"Perhaps chests of gold may unlock the dragon.” The conical-hat chap whispered. “Location is all I need to know.”

“There is an old saying: the greed of one may be the downfall of mortality.” The other chap said. “My life is precarious now. I must go.”

The chap moved to step up when the huge ‘hook sword' (hooked blade), the weapon that has a hook on the tip and a dagger-like hilt, landed on the table with the blade cutting into the top.

“Small brother Chin, you are not at my seat.” The figure who wielded the sword was short but stoutly built and had on the pigtail that was wound around his neck. He was dressed like any other there, but his snarl on his expression revealed his indulgence was not sipping tea. His accent was authentic Mandarin in tone.

“Brother Cheng, we were leaving.” The one named Chin turned to look at the conical-hat chap. “Shall we?”

“Take one more step, and you will bleed here.” The one named Cheng cautioned them. “I am…"

“Ingratitude to your father.” The one with the conical hat tossed the cup of tea at Cheng. He then stood up and found himself facing three more brutes with similar swords in their hands. The patrons at the neighbouring tables took to their heels on seeing the swords brought to the table.

“I will have your head.” Cheng rubbed the sleep from his eyes and found the punch fist swinging towards him at the jaw. He fell backward from the blow, while the one named Seong, who was the other one there, grabbed the stool he was seated on and wielded it as a weapon.

“Stand back!” Chin held the stool against the other three standing there.

“Perhaps this will work better.” The one with the conical hat leveled the Enfield pistol at them. “I got a six-round cylinder, enough for three of you here.”

“Leave now, Charlie.” The one with the conical hat pushed Chin to leave the teahouse.

It was to the end of Commercial Road before the duo stopped their running. Charlie Song found his pace to do the run despite his middle-age limitations. He leaned on the wall by the corner of the shop offering daily catch seafood.

“Nayland Smith, what on earth provoked you to meet there? We could have done it at Piccadilly or at Shaftesbury.” Charlie heaved in deep breaths. “Simplicity is difficult to achieve?”

“Nay, Charlie. I wanted to be in the depth of the place. Fu Manchu is a devious man. “I never believed him to be dead. He's cruel, callous, brilliant, and the most evil and dangerous man in the world."

“Famous words of yours there, Nayland Smith, and yet you are screwing his daughter.” Charlie smiled. “He is technically your father-in-law.”

“Fa Loh Suee is…. We eloped, and technically, we are not screwing each other. We make love, and for info, she is in America to see some friends. You can call it a sabbatical leave period.” Nayland explained.

“Call it what you may want, Nayland Smith. We were fucked just now.” Charlie leaned out to see if they were pursued by any. 

“I thought you were comfortable there.” Nayland Smith smiled. “I was. I do miss the mainland.”

Nayland Smith was an operative of the Foreign Ministry assigned to the Far East for some years. His role there was to do clandestine tasks on the criminals there, where he met the daughter of the Mandarin crime lord, Fu Manchu. He had a few run-ins with the man and barely escaped with his life. He did, however, win the heart of the daughter and, at his request, gave her sanctuary in London, but his works were still in the Far East.

“After dinner, who cares about the spoon?" Charlie mocked the other on having gotten the daughter; why bother with the father?

“In your society, or rather in my mind, the extended family still matters.” Nayland smiled. “Even though my father-in-law would like to serve me to his tigers.”

“Okay, here is what I may know," Charlie sighed. “I have many sons, and hopefully they will not tear me apart. Back to the man we sought, he is missing or lying low. There is a new threat on the horizon. Have you heard of the Oni Society?”

“Oni Society? Scant notes on them. They were from Japan. I was not posted there. Ian Masterson was the one in the lead.”

“Ian Masterson is missing.” Charlie leaned out to look again. “He went missing alongside the steamer that was ferrying him home.”

“I heard that he is dead, but does that mean I am to replace him? I cannot do that. I am now back in Blighty and will remain here.” Nayland protested.

“That is where you need to know now. Mycroft Holmes is asking you to report back. Me? I am just another coolie at the docks.”

"How did he get my name?” Nayland asked. “You could be the better candidate.”

“I got sons to take care of, and you…. You only got one faraway lady to fantasize on. And no sons yet.”

“Fuck you.” Nayland snapped out.

“Pay me my shilling first. You owed me one.” Charlie Song laughed.

“Soon I will.” Nayland Smith smiled. “When you leave this place.”

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 8

 

8.

 

It was morning when Watson took the familiar steps up the flight of stairs and then opened the door to the one place he had dreaded returning. He saw Holmes at the fireplace examining what appeared to be an arrow. The latter heard his arrival but did not acknowledge the other.

Watson hung up his coat and was about to remove his shoes when Sherlock voiced his opinion.

“Arrow sizes vary greatly across cultures, ranging from eighteen inches to six feet. The arrow shafts are made from strong, lightweight wood, bamboo, or reeds. The arrowhead or projectile point is the primary functional part of the arrow and plays the largest role in determining its purpose. Some arrows may simply use a sharpened tip of the solid shaft, but it is far more common for separate arrowheads to be made, usually from metal, horn, or some other hard material. Fletchings are found at the back of the arrow and act as airfoils to provide a small amount of force used to stabilize the flight of the arrow. They are designed to keep the arrow pointed in the direction of travel by strongly damping down any tendency to pitch or yaw.”

“The English longbow, namely the Battle of Agincourt, made it well known. It was an English victory in the Hundred Years' War. It took place on 25 October 1415 near Agincourt in northern France.”

“The designs are known as the self-bow, made from a single piece of wood. Traditional English longbows are self-bows made from yew wood. The bowstave is cut from the radius of the tree so that sapwood (on the outside of the tree) becomes the back and forms about one third of the total thickness; the remaining two thirds or so are heartwood. Yew sapwood is good only in tension, while the heartwood is good in compression. The ……”

“You are still not talking to me, Watson? It's elementary, my dear ……” Sherlock was snapped at by the doctor.

“Holmes, I was… attacked on the train going back. My surgeries today must be rescheduled. People may die due to that.” Watson glared at the other. “What did you get me into?”

“It is……. Not my calling.” Sherlock saw the murderous look on Watson’s expression. “I do not know. I meant, why did you attack except that they have associated you with me?"

“Being associated with you marked me for death? I was in the uniform of the Frontier Army, which had me then marked for death by the tribes, or worse, tortured before death. And I was in the service for the Queen and country.” Doctor John Watson sighed. “But with you, I thought we had……. Oh, God. Not all our villains are dead or imprisoned.”

“Do tell me, Watson. How were you attacked?” Sherlock lowered the arrow.

“By a lady, or more specifically, an oriental lady with the skills of a trained killing machine." Watson sat down at his usual seat. “Not my preference.”

“Lady assailant… oriental… Hmmm… I am intrigued.” Sherlock looked to the arrow.

“Holmes, I have retired from murders and killings. I am trying to save lives.” Watson was still infuriated.

“Most absolutely, if I may coin that term. Or most unfortunately, but … I meant to say I was not to know that the case was … involving. All I did was…"

“Spare me that thought.” Watson paused there. “I happened to be in London to get supplies.”

“I shall not…. Intrude but..." Sherlock looked to the doctor. “I do need your… guidance here, Watson. I am……"

“Are you onto your morphine again?” Watson sprang out in anger. “If you are, I am walking out.”

“I am… clean, Watson. Sober clean. I do have my urges... withdrawals, but I focus on the issues that matter. It is working." Sherlock sounded sad then. “It is not the same without you here, though. I gotten……"…"

“End the melodramatics, Holmes.” Watson looked at the other. “You are … an ill patient to me until you are really cured.”

“And you are a doctor.” Sherlock looked at the doorway when Mrs. Hudson arrived with the tray of tea and sandwiches.

“A happy beginning then.” Mrs. Hudson stepped from the doorway. “Tea, anyone? I got sandwiches too.”

“I will be resting… alone in my chamber.” Watson got up.

“Touchy, isn't he?” Mrs. Hudson watched the doctor walk to his chamber. “You are not the best patient to have to care for."

“Bad evening. I will have the sandwiches, please.”

It was not so for the Greystokes, seated across from each other on the long table with the candlesticks and bouquet of morning-picked blooms, and with their guest seated next to Jane’s left side, and the cups of tea turning cold, the air there was colder.

“More tea, my lady. " The maid stepped up with the pot of tea. Jane shook her head, and the maid proceeded towards his lordship. John had gestured his refusal and then looked at the guest.

“Please do…" His Lordship's eyes did not leave the look on the ladyship.

“Let me explain, Lord Greystokes.” Mindy looked at the other across the table.

“John will do.” The man cut in.

“A few weeks ago, Brian told me of the new development in the Far East with the threat of the group called the Oni Society. His section in the Office of the Defense was monitoring the activities of the others in the colonies, which include China and the Southeast, in which Japan had shown great interest. He got reports of the acts of the clan, that their followers were doing their work there, and how some leaders were … controlled by them. He had then reported to the PM Office and to Scotland Yard, but he was asked to focus on other matters.”

“Do you know who Brian was working with?” John asked.

“Yes, Ian Masterson," Mindy replied. “It was Ian who told Brian to lay off.”

“I thought you said…" John cut in.

“Ian Masterson… I am aware of him. He was given the task by the PM, and he told Brian to shift attention. And not be a ninnyhammer…".

“Ninny…" John was baffled and looked to Jane. He looked away in case Jane told him to read about his English historical culture.

“It’s English slang for being a ninny or simpleton.” Mindy eased the concern before she fixed the focus back.

“Ian Masterson wants him to back off. He was asked to focus on the development of the Germans and the Tsar. The former for their offices on the continent were not reporting on schedule. And the Tsar, there were issues of revolts.”

“The Russian Empire did not participate in the formal what they termed it, the ‘Scramble for Africa.' " They were more on Asian expansion, limited naval power, and geographical constraints; Russia was a distance away. Mindy looked at Jane. “It did not stop the Belgians from creating another colony in the Congo State.”

“They desired to create a free state there. Do not get too sentimental over it. I did read the news, Mindy.” Jane retorted back.

“Yes, it was not to throw Brian off. He searched in deep and found a link to my father. He then decided to collate it all with me, but we did not discuss it much here. He had to go home to his family. Poor man.”

“Poor man indeed.” Lord Greystokes snapped out. “Pardon me, ladies. I meant no offense there.”

“This week, we had planned a retreat to the countryside, and then came the mail for him. He was to return to London to attend a meeting.” Mindy looked at Lord Greystokes. “Coitus interruptus then.”

“Mindy, I got a telegram this morning. Brian was killed last night," Lord Greystokes said. He was used to death, and his manners of expressing it were minimal at best.

“John!” Lady Greystokes exclaimed. “You are an infernal beast when it comes to talking about the dead.”

But Mindy had then left the table and retreated to her chamber.

“John, you are an imbecile with your manners.” Lady Greystokes stressed again and took leave of the table then.

“All I did was speak the truth.” Lord Greystoke held the blank expression. “You never complained when I was beastly.”

Mycroft had the better expression.

“Ito, it truly dismayed me that my minister was killed by our association.” The British extraordinary gentleman made his view across the distance. He was dressed in the dark overcoat with the top hat and was standing a short distance from the banks of the River Thames, looking at the London Tower. He looked at the barges sailing down with the pickup of the wares from the seaport to the inner parts of London.

“And mine too, but both of us know that the clan is powerful and its reach is wide.” Ito stood by him with two feet apart, facing the same scene. “We both knew from our correspondences that their assassins are deadly.”

“Ito, tell me more of the clan. Who is in the clan?” Mycroft had his hands inside the overcoat of his. “I know I was briefed before, but do tell again.”

Mycroft was unaware of the threat to the minister. And Japan was like the distance of the moon from London. Ito Matsuke was one of the knowledgeable ones in London who specialized in the criminal circles, especially the oriental ones. He was a retired naval officer and resided in London. He was with the Foreign Office and worked with Ian Masterson. He spent his last four years in London.

“The clan, with its name that means 'the demon,' held seven sections in its rank with their leader overseeing it. Each leader is independent of the other sections, but there are tales that among them is the main leader, the demon they call "Emperor." We know not who that is."

“Not even yourself, Ito. You are…" Mycroft smiled with sarcasm in his tone.

“I may be the one in the know of the clan, but I know not of the seven leaders. I know not my own, for the leader is behind the silk screen. But I suspect that Doctor Mitsui Ogata, whom you met, is one of seven. He held the rank of the Senior Demon.”

“So, Doctor Mitsui Ogata is a member of the Oni.” Mycroft muttered.

“Perceived to be, but the Oni is rather secret. Doctor Mitsui Ogata is here.”

“I met him, Ito," Mycroft said. “He messaged my minister to call for a meeting with the exchequer, and on that day soon after, the minister died. We were to discuss Treasury functions, but he highlighted the presence of Oni Society in the meeting. But why?”

“Perhaps he wants you to investigate the Oni Society, and……. Could be a tussle of power there," Ito replied. “The Oni Society is getting powerful, and the influence of power may be the cause. And if they control the Treasury functions, they will be formidable too.”

“Ito, where is Nayland now?” Mycroft asked.

 

 

 

 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 7

 

7.

 

Jane Greystokes took the stroll by the pond, looking at the idyllic growths there every morning. It was in the huge estate of the Greystokes family, to whose wealth John was the solitary heir. She held her hands to her protruding belly to give it the warmth a mother was to provide. Since she lost her other child, forcibly taken from her by the aliens, she was not taken in to be a mother anymore, but the past years have mellowed her anger. John wanted to have his own heirs, and with age catching on fast, Jane relented, and the belly was the sign of the effort. She then heard her name being called.

“Lady Greystokes, there is an urgent telegram for you.” It was one of the maids who rushed over. “There are also the carriages awaiting you in the courtyard.”

Jane took the note and read it. Immediately, she gave instructions to the maid.

“Run back and provide what is needed to our guest. Send James to fetch the Lord at the woods. He is needed back here," Jane told the maid. “Be quick and also fetch me the lads from the cottage.”

John maintained a group of his Waziri warriors at the fringe of the estate with their replica of the village and allowed them farming and the hunt on the ground. There were no lions, but the deer and foxes abounded plenty there.

Jane made her slow walk to the mansion she shared with her lover and soon-to-be father of their unborn child. It was a short distance, but the walk was slow. It was then she saw the light carriage approaching her.

It was Imani, the Waziri housekeeper and personal aide of Jane. The dark lady was over six feet in height, slim in looks, dressed in the sleeveless frock that reached above her knees, and wore leather boots on her feet. She had on her arms the full complement of rings that reached from her wrist to below her elbow. The lady's main role was to care for Jane.

“Ma’am, take the ride with me.” Imani pulled over next to Jane. The latter took the offer and went into the mansion by the side door. She walked towards the library and met the newly arrived guests.

“Mrs. Greystokes, I presume.” The officer in the military uniform greeted Jane, but he was ignored. She walked past him and held out her arms to the lady who was standing by the fireplace.

“Mindy, my dear. How are you?” Jane greeted her old friend from the continent. “The reason you are here must be due to some distress.”

“I am fine, Jane. It is the minister who is in trouble.” Mindy held back her tears. "Perhaps Lieutenant Gavin could express it better.”

Jane turned to look at the officer, ignored by her. He was a dashing man with sideburns and a ghastly walrus hairline above the lips, but the red jacket and white pants uniform were crisp and clean. He held his ‘salacot,' the planter’s headgear with the regiment emblem, tucked under his left arm.

“Lieutenant Gavin McLeod, my lady.” The officer saluted to the lady of the house. “I brought…"

“You bloody well did that, and now tell me her troubles.” Jane was quick to temper then.

“I have no idea, Ma’am. The lady insists on coming here… alone.” The lieutenant reported as if he were addressing his superior officer. “My platoon awaits at the village.”

“Jane, do spare him a reprieve.” It was the voice of one who was familiar to her. Jane turned to look at the figure seen walking in by the side door, dressed in tight long pants and without shoes and shirtless. His masculine frame was covered with the body sweat.

“Good day to you, Lieutenant. I am Lord Greystokes. You may call me John.”

“Good days, my Lord. I have performed my task and would like to request leave to return to my unit.” Lieutenant MacLeod expressed his desire then.

“Yes, you may leave, but do wait for the maids to serve you some tea. I will speak to our guest now.” Lord Greystokes smiled at the officer who had then taken off to rejoin his men. He then looked to his guest.

“Mindy, what did happen? I was in the woods.” Lord Greystokes took to his usual runs in the woods and climbing the trees to swing by them on the available length of ropes he had strung there. He had to improvise on the swings, for the trees in the ground do lack the long vines and huge branches to rest on. He missed the familiar green jungles with the older trees and the long vines that were still in the continent.

“I am … hunted.” Mindy Kewala was the tribal princess of her tribe, but she left there to study in the isles. When she graduated, she went back to the continent to work with Jane on some works but returned to the isles soon after. She expressed her desire to stay in London instead.

“Lady Jane, I am to be wedded to a neighboring chief, and I will not.” It was the excuse given then, and Jane smuggled her out from there, much to the chagrin of her own lover. That was four years ago.

“It is the custom here to follow her father’s wishes.” John Greystokes explained the predicament then. “It’s their life here.”

“She does not want to and will live in London … in my care.” Jane glared at her lover then.

“You placed me in a difficult position with the tribe elders and…" John tried to reason with her, but Jane was insistent on her decision. It was one of their irreconcilable issues, but Mindy started a new life in London. She found work with the foreign office and got involved with the minister.

“Jane, they may kill Brian.” Mindy shed her tears. “He was in London while I was away at our country retreat. He was called back, and I was afraid. And I left for here.”

“That is rather abrupt. Were you protected?” Lady Greystokes asked.

“I was always protected. You knew of my flight of freedom from my father; well, it was not much freedom. I was guarded all the time. Brian had taken care of me well.”

“Obviously.” Lady Greystokes smiled.

“Well, I got the note dropped at my desk. It was addressed to me and told me to leave immediately. Brian was targeted to die. I was alarmed, and Brian was away. I got the lieutenant to bring me here. Your estate was the nearest that I knew of.”

“You are safe here, Mindy. No one will harm you here.” Jane looked to her friend. “John here held a formidable protective estate.”

Jane looked at John, who nodded to that. The ladies excused themselves to attend to themselves while John took to his mail. He had not seen the mail for some days and then saw the familiar name there.

“Holmes…" John picked up the mail and read the content. He threw the mail into the fireplace.

“Big Bwana, the ceremony is to begin. You must come now.” John heard the request by the Waziri warrior.

At the Waziri village on his huge estate, John had exchanged his pants for the animal wrap around his chest and torso, standing with his assembly of Waziri warriors. They were there to do the final passage of rites for the death of the warrior’s elder, Mugumbi, who had died of old age.

“Mugumbi is both my friend and warrior to my clan.” John the warrior lay there on the bamboo frame. “Mugumbi was one with me when we roamed the vast land of the continent. We hunted and slept under the stars. He taught me many skills that I have passed on to the young ones. He will return to the land where we had hunted then.”

“A Waziri is forever a brother to his own people. Loyalty and love we share. Our enemies we will hunt. No one hurts a Waziri and does not have the clan hurt back. One for all, and all for one.”

John spoke of the great warrior and how those values and skills are taught to the younger ones. The younger ones will spend eight seasons back in the home village on the continent to learn the old ways and are given a choice to return or remain there. It was the way John made sure the warriors did not forego their ancient ways.

"Big Bwana, it is time.” John was handed the cowry shells as a ritual payment for the land used to bury the deceased. According to the ritual symbolism of numbers, three shells are given if the deceased is a man and four if the deceased is a woman.

Once it was done, the body of the deceased was cleaned and wrapped in plain cloth. Members of both sides of the family then bring the deceased offerings of blankets. They talk to the person, saying, "I, (name), am bringing this for you." Once the offerings are made, the children of the deceased's sisters may take away any of the blankets they want for themselves as a part of their ritual rights. Next, the deceased was transported on a bamboo frame to outside the entrance of the village compound, where the local widows give him/her a last ritual feeding of locally grown cereal crops that have religious significance to the village. All the guests turn their backs while the feeding ritual takes place.

The deceased will be carried to the graveyard. Along the way, coins and cowries are given as offerings to the deceased for whatever may be needed while traveling in the afterlife. Before burial, these are removed by the family. Dirges with powerful messages about life, women, and families are sung. They often include the thought, "Can you believe you will not see this person anymore?" Singing and the giving of offerings continue at the grave, dug earlier by members of the family. People remind the deceased to remember them and help them. Pregnant women ask for protection during their pregnancies.

Jane asked to be excused, for she was with a child and a guest at the mansion.

 

 

 

Heroes Return VI: Book One London Chapter 6

 

6. 

 

The arrow came through the window pane with such force that it only created a hole on it. The arrow with the metal head did not drop momentum and struck into the violin base. The arrow was stopped there by the added metal plate inside the instrument, which disrupted the cords when played by the not-so-talented Holmes, but who cares? It served its purpose then.

Sherlock rolled off the seat he was on with the violin held still in his hand. He had improvised the violin when his life was threatened by the possibility of a bullet into his head, and the instrument was normally placed near his head for safety. He crouched and then moved to the wall by the window before another arrow struck at the seat. The second arrow broke the windowpane then.

Sherlock looked at the mirror he placed across the chamber angled towards the rooftop opposite. He scanned the skyline there among the jutting chimneys. He could not see his attacker, but that was not the concern later. A figure was seen at the windowsill and was climbing in. In the dim-lighted condition, Sherlock could make out the figure was dressed in dark clothes and held a short dagger in addition to the quiver of arrows and bow slung at the back.

Sherlock reached for the lamp stand and toppled it onto the attacker. The other struck with the dagger into the falling object, and it was then Sherlock got up to land his strike. He reached for one of the few walking canes that he placed strategically around the parlor.

It was one of his tools learned from the art of Bartitsu, the gentleman’s fighting art.

“Fair bit they will do you if you ever use them, Holmes? They are too heavy at the top.” Watson had compared the walking cane for his limp to Holmes'. “What did you do to them? Add on lead or iron to hit the head?”

The heavier top of the cast-iron head worked just as well as a cudgel with a smaller dimension. Sherlock held the end of the stick and swung hard at the attacker. The heavy cane head impacted the attacker’s chest, causing the other to stagger backwards. It was all Sherlock needed then: to press on with the body slam to topple the other off the window sill onto the street below.

To Sherlock’s surprise, the attacker lands on his feet with a turn of the body. The attacker had on then the bow with the arrow aimed at Sherlock, who was leaning on the windowsill. The latter stepped back when the arrow was released and stuck at the ceiling.

Sherlock leaned to look and saw the attacker was running into the nearby alley. He then heard the noise of fighting downstairs. He grabbed the dropped walking cane and rushed downstairs. He found Mrs. Hudson’s chamber door was open and rushed in.

“Fancy me. I have two men barging in tonight here.” It was Mrs. Hudson in her nightdress holding the cricket bat. There was the other attacker on the floor next to her bed, unconscious by the sight of the way the body was lying.

“He may have thought of my fanny for grabs, but given the cold night, I preferred my bat here anytime.” Mrs. Hudson climbed off the bedding and then leaned over to pick up the dagger on the flooring. “And bringing that shortened blade is mighty unpleasant to be inserted."

“Is he dead? Or just flaccid?” Mrs. Hudson asked Sherlock who was examining the prone figure.

“I think … flaccid for now. You have dealt him a hard blow.” Sherlock looked to Mrs. Hudson. “Fancy you having a bat on your bed.”

“I can’t say I need it most times, but it does come in useful at times.” Mrs. Hudson reached for the bathrobe sash and offered it to Sherlock.

“Care to do the bondage on whoever that is? "I am going to the privy to pee."

Sherlock tied the attacker with the sash and then checked the house’s doorways. That attacker came in by the kitchen; the door was forced open and went for Mrs. Hudson’s chamber.

“I had thought it was Mycroft sneaking in," Mrs. Hudson sighed. “And I got my frillies on underneath the nightgown.

"Sherlock ignored the lady whom he knew was pinging Mycroft for some time with little or no results. Such was on the mind of Mycroft that evening. It was ‘lust feelings suppressed.

“There were three assailants then. Or four if you added in the fourth as the one that shot the arrow from across the street.

Mycroft stood there waiting for the carriage to take him back to his dwelling nearby. He had retired to his favorite place, the club at First Corner, after the meeting with Sherlock and Doctor Mitsui Ogata. He had assigned additional guards to the other ministers before he arrived at the club. As a single man, and with his mind weighed down by the threats on the isle, he found his evenings well spent at the club with the wine and chatter among the peers. He had supper with the French and German counterparts, with their jibes about invading each other’s borders.

“Forget England. They need to swim over before they can fight any of us.” The Frenchman was in the mood to savage Mycroft.

“I was told that you met with the oriental diplomat today? Was it interesting?” Hans Steiner was well informed, as were all of them in the trade, with the wagering tongues of the staff in all the offices. “I heard that it had something to do with Japan?”

“Japen? I have not heard of that name since Commodore Perry stopped for tea there.” The Frenchman was good at the deceptive denials, although he knew more than the Germans.

“Yes, I met the diplomat.” That was a blunt lie, as all three knew that Doctor Mitsui Ogata was not any diplomat but the diplomat from the palace.

“So, are they invading China again?” The German gleefully asked. “We could assist.”

“I doubt so. However, they—" Mycroft saw the aide from his office arrive. “Pardon me, gentlemen. I need to throw up. Too much to drink.”

Mycroft stood up and excused himself. He motioned to the aide to meet him in the private chamber, which was the rest chamber.

“Sir,” the aide handed over the report to Mycroft. “And we lost the Doctor on the streets.”

It was the killings he was concerned about.

First was Daniel Jones, a renowned author and mineralogist, and not excluding Ian Masterson, who was returning on a sudden recall. He was assigned to the Far East two years ago, and before that he was at the Congo.

There was the geologist, Edward Thorne, and the other professor of minerals from the Thames University. Both were attached to the Congo exploration. Minister Leeson is the exchequer but was once the attaché attached to the African delegation on economic affairs at the Congo.

All unrelated, but there was a link, and it all led to the Congo land on the African continent.

A few others unreported were the deaths of several experts linked to the exchequer minister. They were aides and staff of the office.

“Sir, Ms. Kewala was found. She had visited the Greystokes by herself this afternoon.” The aide handed the report.

“The Greystokes?” Mycroft muttered.

“Yes, Sir. We have posted additional guards at the nearby village. The Greystokes will not entertain any of ours at their estate.”

“I doubt Lord Greystoke needs any of our guards. He probably has lions and elephants there to serve as his own, and I doubt the lions will not prefer any fish and fries of ours.” Mycroft dismissed the staff.

Nevertheless, the lady will be safe there.

The message was to tell Mycroft that nobody can stop them. He heard the knock on his door, and there and then came in his guest.

“Ito Matsuke, thank you for joining me here.”

“We shall talk outside. I am not used to your club members. They may think I am a lackey here.” The Asian man smiled.

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