Sherlock Holmes and the Unholy Trinity Read online

  Holmes had been gone for little more than half an hour and upon his return he could not be persuaded to discuss his audience in any detail. He merely described Pope Leo XIII as a white-haired gentleman of a kindly disposition who spoke to Holmes in soft modulated tones by way of his personal interpreter. It was only once Gialli had returned to conclude his business in Tosca’s office and our landau had begun its return journey to our hotel that Holmes spoke in a little more detail about the rare privilege that he had been granted

  ‘Watson, I can only apologize to both you and your beleaguered readers for my reticence in revealing further details of my meeting with the Pope, but protocol dictates that I do not. However, if you are to take an intelligent interest in proceedings I should mention one or two of the more relevant aspects of our conversation. Notwithstanding this, I must call upon you to employ the same level of diplomacy as I have just been sworn to,’ Holmes insisted.

  ‘You can always rely upon my discretion, Holmes,’ I confirmed.

  ‘I had no doubt, Watson! Very well then, although the majority of our interview was somewhat dry and of little consequence, His Holiness did raise one point of intrigue, although as to its significance I cannot, as yet, decide. As you might imagine he repeated his request for a rapid and discreet conclusion to the case. However, his whole demeanour altered when I broached the subject of the scrolls.

  ‘I could tell, even without the aid of the interpreter, who was singularly unemployed while His Holiness stood up slowly to consider his response, that the subject of the scrolls was one with which he was not entirely comfortable. I must confess that his reply, when it finally came, was not one that I had by any means expected.’

  I could not help but smile at my friend’s furrowed brow and his troubled expression as he considered the very notion of his having been surprised. Though I must admit that such an occurrence was indeed a rarity, I was appalled at the conceit that would not broker such an awful accident! At that moment Holmes remembered the presence of our police escort and he motioned me to silence with a finger raised to his lips.

  Despite my burning curiosity, we completed what remained of the journey without exchanging a solitary word. As I smoked my pipe, my mind went over everything that we had just seen and heard and it was only once we had reached our hotel that I realized that I had been oblivious to the sights of Rome that had so enthralled me on our outward journey.

  We had arrived at our hotel just as dinner was being served, but Holmes merely sat with me, over a cup of coffee, while I ate. I noticed that he was smiling somewhat patronizingly at my efforts to negate my hunger in as short a time as possible. No doubt he was aware that I wished him to continue with his account of his audience with the Pope, but I had to wait until the meal was over and we found ourselves sauntering along the Via Nazionale once more before he broached the subject

  When he did so it was with much reluctance and I was also appalled to note the extreme lengths that he went to in assuring that we were not to be overheard. The thoroughfare was almost deserted and yet Holmes glanced furtively, this way and that, time and again before he was satisfied that there was nobody within earshot.

  ‘In heaven’s name, Holmes, what is the meaning behind all of this skulduggery?’ I exclaimed with some exasperation.

  ‘I assure you, Watson, that we cannot afford to be too cautious,’ Holmes replied in a tone that was barely louder than a whisper. ‘As I anticipated we are currently dealing with forces far beyond any of our previous experience. Before I can formulate a cohesive theory, however, it is absolutely essential that we receive the translated scrolls from Gialli.’

  ‘I cannot, for the life of me, understand the importance that you attach to a pile of ancient scrolls.’

  ‘Nor should I, Watson, were it not for the manner of His Holiness’s reaction to my raising of the subject. As I earlier described, he stood up slowly and spent some time in formulating his thoughtful reply. He informed me, carefully but emphatically, that there are only four Gospels.’

  ‘Well, of course there are!’ I declared in a state of astonishment. ‘Surely such a statement was superfluous?’

  ‘You would think so, Watson, especially as I had made no mention of the Gospels, much less the fact that there might be more than four of them. Yet there was also the merest trace of a threat in the manner of his statement and I was left in little doubt that any further discussion of the scrolls would be displeasing to him.’

  ‘So the question we need to ask ourselves is why the Pope should be so disturbed by the existence of the scrolls. I see now why you are so keen to see the translation.’ Then a further thought occurred to me. ‘Surely you are not suggesting that His Holiness is implicated in Tosca’s death in any way?’

  Holmes’s continued silence was as shocking to me as the most outrageous answer that he might have mustered.

  ‘After all, the shape of the weapon used seems to direct us towards our violent visitor at Baker Street,’ I suggested. Again my friend remained silent until I pointed out that one of the symbols that the Bedouin had worn about his belt had also been present at the base of one of the parchments.

  Holmes stared at me as if my last statement had struck a violent chord, then he shook his head.

  ‘Watson, this case is not yet clear to me. The facts, as far as we can understand them, seem to point the finger of guilt squarely towards the Bedouin. Apart from the nature of the weapon used, we also know that the scrolls came from Egypt, which is surely the birthplace of our expansive friend. Furthermore, we also know that he is a follower of the Coptic Church, which boasts the oldest place of Christian worship that we know of. …’ Holmes paused for a further protracted silence and I could not refrain from interjecting.

  ‘What better motive for the death of Cardinal Tosca could there be than to reclaim a sacred parchment on behalf of the oldest church on earth?’ I asked excitedly.

  Apparently my friend was still some way from being convinced by my argument and we returned to our hotel in a contemplative silence.

  Chapter Seven

  A Wire to Mrs Hudson

  I could not understand why Holmes was so reluctant to even consider the validity of my argument. I even began to wonder if a mind as evolved as his would sometimes seek a more obtuse solution to a problem when a simpler and less challenging explanation was under his nose all along.

  Yet he was, above all, a man of logic and I was certain that he would never shy away from the truth merely for the sake of extending his powers to their limits. Nevertheless, I took him to task over his continued reluctance to discuss the Bedouin theory once we had returned to the hotel.

  We took our cognacs up to Holmes’s room and it was there that I raised the long-forgotten subject of the wires that he had despatched from Baker Street to his colleagues: Berlajous and Elraji.

  ‘I presume that you sent these messages as a means of tracing the movements of the Bedouin prior to his arrival at Baker Street?’ I suggested once we had settled down with our drinks.

  ‘You presume correctly, friend Watson, although I must immediately point out that neither have so far offered me a reply. The Bedouin’s point of origin and his current location are as much a mystery now as they were at the time of our first encounter,’ Holmes replied.

  ‘That is, apart from the very tangible fact that the weapon which he favours has, apparently, been used in perpetrating a most heinous crime, right here in the city of Rome!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Apparently, Watson, apparently, but we must not be too hasty in reaching premature conclusions. I shall do nothing more until I have read the translation of the scrolls. Do not forget, Watson, the Church of St Mark was founded in AD 41 and it is, therefore, the oldest known church in the world. It is completely understandable that the Holy See would have a vested interest in an ancient scroll that originates from that source. Our investigation can only move forward once we fully understand its nature.’

  I shook my head in disbelief.

&n
bsp; ‘I never cease to be amazed at the detailed knowledge that you possess on such a vast array of different subjects. Now I am well able to understand your keen interest in the parchment,’ I concluded.

  I looked up suddenly and became aware that my friend had been oblivious to my last statement. From under his breath I heard him repeat the warning we had received from the Bedouin in our rooms and as he lit his pipe I could see his eyes drift away as his thoughts began to sink into the furthest recesses of his remarkable mind.

  For my part, I was deathly tired and so decided to retire to my room for the night.

  The following morning I was not especially surprised to discover that Holmes had spent the entire night in his chair and at his pipes. However, despite his night of abuse, I was amazed to see just how fresh and alert he seemed, and that before breakfast he had already despatched a wire to Mrs Hudson. Holmes steadfastly refused to divulge its contents and by the time we had concluded our breakfast I was resigned to it remaining a mystery for the foreseeable future.

  Once again Holmes and I spent yet another fruitless morning as we awaited the arrival of the normally reliable Inspector Gialli, together with the potential means of shedding some light upon our current mystery. By noon Holmes was positively wrought with impatience and frustration as neither the manuscript nor the reply from London presented themselves.

  When a visitor did finally turn up, we were disappointed to note that he had arrived empty-handed and that he was not Inspector Gialli!

  Inspector De Rossi was only a subordinate of Gialli and it appeared that his main qualification, for the mission to our hotel, was that he possessed a mastery of the English language that was by no means inferior to that of his principal. De Rossi had no knowledge of the case whatsoever, but it had fallen upon him to impart some shocking news to us.

  Apparently Gialli had been successful in having the parchment translated for us. However, shortly after he had left for our hotel he had been set upon by a pair of ruffians who then beat him to within an inch of his life!

  ‘Good heavens!’ I exclaimed. Then, once I had fully digested this awful news, I asked, ‘Surely there must have been some of his officers in attendance, especially as he was upon such a vital mission?’

  ‘Sadly, no, Signor, the translator lives within a short walk of the Via Nazionale, so the inspector decided to dispense with the use of an escort and present the document to you on his own.

  ‘The package was quite innocuous in its appearance so there was no reason for him to have been wary of an attack. Who would have suspected that he was carrying anything of such importance? The inspector was very popular with all who worked with him,’ De Rossi added sadly.

  In contrast, my friend appeared to have been more concerned about the whereabouts of the translation than he was about Gialli himself.

  ‘I take it that the package has disappeared as thoroughly as have the ruffians?’ Holmes asked resignedly.

  ‘Indeed it has, Signor Holmes, there is no trace of either the package or the perpetrators of this evil deed.’

  I was aghast to see that Holmes seemed to be mildly amused by De Rossi’s dramatic and emotional statement, though surely not by the fate of our beleaguered colleague?

  ‘Were there any witnesses who are able to describe Gialli’s assailants?’

  ‘The translator lives in a very small side turning that runs parallel to the Via Nazionale, so there were very few people around save for an elderly street vendor. However, he does seem to be in possession of most of his faculties and he described the assailants as large, thick-set gentlemen dressed smartly in dark brown suits and soft flat caps.

  ‘The remarkable thing is, Signor Holmes, that during the commotion voices became raised, as you might expect, and the vendor is adamant that they both spoke in refined English accents.’

  ‘That does not make any sense at all!’ I exclaimed. ‘After all, the only person who would have known about the importance of Gialli’s package would have been the murderer himself and …’

  Holmes hushed me with a rapid hand movement and then began to usher De Rossi from the room before I could utter another word.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector De Rossi, for your excellent report. I trust that you will be kind enough to let us know the minute that Gialli is well enough to be questioned.’

  ‘Sadly that moment might be some time in arriving.’ De Rossi shook his head forlornly. ‘The inspector’s injuries are most severe,’ he added as he closed the door slowly behind him.

  ‘Well, I must say, Holmes, you appeared to be more concerned about the fate of the missing papers than you were about the condition of a colleague!’ I protested.

  ‘Watson, Inspector Gialli will undoubtedly recover his health in due course, whereas the missing scrolls might well be lost forever. Although their value has yet to be established, they are already responsible for a man’s life and another is now hanging in the balance. This entire case appears to rotate around the papers that Tosca died for.’

  ‘I can see that now, but I do not understand why you ushered De Rossi from the room while I was trying to establish a point of significance. After all, he is a policeman!’ I persisted.

  ‘Remember, Watson, it is only we two who have any knowledge of the Bedouin and his intervention. The significance of the shape of the murder weapon will mean nothing to the Roman police force and I did not wish you to say anything that might divert them from their own line of inquiry. Besides, De Rossi appeared to have no knowledge of the case and it might not be prudent for us to enlighten him if Gialli saw fit to maintain his ignorance,’ Holmes explained.

  ‘Surely you are not implying that De Rossi is not to be trusted?’ I asked incredulously.

  ‘At this moment I cannot be sure of anything. We must hope that Gialli will be fit enough to discuss things at the earliest possible moment. In the meantime we can do nothing more than wait,’ Holmes concluded dejectedly.

  We sat in silence for a moment or two with our pipes.

  ‘Holmes, why should two well-dressed Englishmen attack an Italian policeman and then make off with a package, the contents of which they could not possibly have had any prior knowledge? After all, only the murderer and perhaps Father Bettega had any notion that the scrolls were of value. We have forged a link between the Bedouin and the scrolls, and his weapon of choice, or its like, was certainly the cause of Tosca’s death. Yet these Englishmen have attached as much importance to the scrolls that were left behind as you appear to,’ I concluded in a state of some despair.

  Holmes turned towards me with a dismissive grunt.

  ‘Watson, do you not see that the value of the scrolls, which were left behind on Tosca’s desk, is only implied?’ he asked cantankerously.

  ‘I am sorry, I simply do not understand. Inspector Gialli clearly stated that the only reason that some of the scrolls were left behind was because the murderer had been interrupted suddenly. He would not have had time to discriminate between the various scrolls,’ I insisted.

  ‘That was merely speculation on his part and speculation is a soft and precarious foundation on which to build any case, much less one as complex and obtuse as this one is. Once again, Watson, you are forgetting about the key.’

  ‘Are you saying that you no longer hold to the theory that the Bedouin is the culprit?’

  ‘On the contrary, I think it most likely that he is. However, I will not commit myself further until I receive more data. We must hope that Inspector Gialli makes a speedy recovery.’ There was something dismissive in the manner in which Holmes turned away from me this time and I left him quietly to his thoughts.

  The two items of news, which we had been waiting most anxiously for, arrived within a few minutes of each other. It has to be said that neither of them imbued us with too much hope.

  The bulletin from the hospital was a double-edged sword. Obviously we were delighted to hear that the life of the genial Roman policeman was now no longer in danger. However, the doctors also informe
d us that he would be in no condition to be interviewed by us, or by anybody else, for that matter, for several days yet. Holmes proceeded to wring his hands in frustration once we were informed of the latter and he hurled the offending piece of paper to the floor, in disgust.

  Nevertheless, it was the wire from Mrs Hudson that seemed to cause him the most anxiety. She confirmed that there had been no replies to the wires Holmes had despatched to both Berlajous and Elraji. As frustrating to hear as this was, it was as nothing when compared to the disturbing information that we had received from our old friend Dave ‘Gunner’ King.

  King had managed to trace the very colleague of his who had deposited the Bedouin at our door on that most fateful morning. Not only had the Bedouin not arrived in London by way of the boat train, as Holmes had originally but erroneously asserted, but there had been no further information that would suggest that he had subsequently departed!

  ‘So the blackguard still remains in London,’ I asserted.

  ‘So it would appear, Watson,’ Holmes responded quietly.

  Holmes moved over to the window and gazed mournfully towards the teeming and colourful thoroughfare that wound its way towards the ancient Roman forum. He pressed a forefinger against his lips and he only broke his silence once his plans were in place. Evidently he had come to a most startling conclusion.

  ‘Watson, we must make our departure from Rome as promptly as the necessary arrangements will allow!’

  ‘I cannot believe that you intend to retreat from the battlefield before a victory has been won,’ I responded in disbelief.

  ‘Surely the implications of our correspondence are clear? Inspector Gialli’s indisposition renders it impossible for us to ascertain the true nature of his attack, much less the exact meaning of the scrolls.

  ‘Moreover, the fact that our Bedouin friend still remains in London seems to shift the theatre of conflict in a more westerly direction. The vendor’s evidence that Gialli’s assailants spoke with cultured English accents does not seem so fanciful now, eh, Watson?’ Holmes suggested with some excitement.