The Six Messiahs

of them. That he was a Holy Man from an ancient monastic order on the island of Hokkaido was unimaginable.

That he was one of the most dangerous men alive he could rest assured was an idea that would never take shape in the mind of a single living being.

Kanazuchi ended his meditation with a grace that pleased his keen sense of aesthetic balance. As the ship sailed closer to America, the visions that had plagued his dreams for the last three months had grown more disturbing than ever before; only these meditations had any calming effect.

The agitation on deck increased; the outskirts of a city drawing closer on the rolling green hills. Shifting the light, oblong bundle on his back, Kanazuchi wondered if he would be asked to open it for inspection as they cleared immigration. Many of the skilled workers on board—carpenters, masons—had carried their tools along with them. Perhaps they would all be allowed to pass without having to display their belongings; if not he would find a way to avoid the authorities.

Kanazuchi was prepared. He had come too far. His mind was closed to the possibility of failure. And he knew that if anyone saw the sword concealed in his bundle, he would have to kill them.

chapter 2

'My name is Werner. If there is anything I must do to make your voyage more comfortable, please you will let me know.'

'Thank you, Werner.'

Doyle made to enter his cabin but Werner blocked his way.

'If I might be so bold: I have read about your famous detective, sir, and I would like to demonstrate that the great Mr. Holmes is not alone in his power of the deductive capability,' said the dapper German steward in his crisply accented English.

'Fine. How do you wish to do this?' said Doyle politely.

' 'I have observed you for only a few moments, you agree, yes?'

'I cannot dispute you.'

'And yet I am able to tell you that from within the last year you have traveled to Cherbourg, Paris, Geneva, Davos, Marienbad, back to London, once to Edinburgh, and twice to Dublin. Will I not be correct, sir?'

Doyle had to admit that he was.

'And would you like me to tell you how I have reached this conclusion, sir?'

Doyle was compelled to admit that he would.

'I have looked at the labels on your luggage.'

Werner winked, wiggled his little blond moustache, gave a smart salute, and slipped smoothly down the passageway. Doyle had just begun to unpack when Innes rushed into the cabin, knocking off his derby on the doorway overhead.

'Smashing good news,' said Innes, retrieving his hat. 'I've found someone who'll be of tremendous help to us when we reach New York.'

'Who's that, Innes?'

'He gave me his card. Here,' he said, producing it. 'His name is Nels Pimmel.'

'Pimmel?'

'A reporter for the New York Post. You'll be ever so amused by the fellow, Arthur. He's what you would call a real 'character.' ...'

'Let me see that,' said Doyle, taking the card.

'And a most agreeable chap. Seems he has the acquaintance of nearly everybody who's anybody in the entire United States....'

'And what did Mr. Pimmel want from you?'

'Nothing. He's invited us to dine with him tonight.'

'You didn't accept of course.'

'I didn't see the harm in it.. ..'

'Innes, listen to me carefully; you are not to seek out, speak to, or encourage this man's advances from this moment forward in even the slightest way.'

'I don't know why; he's a perfectly pleasant sort of bloke.'

'This man is not a bloke, chap, or any other sort of regular person; he's a journalist and they are a breed apart.'

'So you immediately assume he must be cultivating my friendship only so he can get closer to you, is that it?'

'If this is the man I think it is, be assured he is not remotely interested in your friendship or even your passing acquaintance. ...'

Two small spots of red appeared on Innes's cheeks and his pupils contracted down to pinpricks—oh dear, thought Doyle, how many times have I seen those dependable beacons of distress before.

'So what you're saying is I'm ridiculous to assume that anyone might take a genuine interest in me alone as a human being....'

'Innes, please, that's not what I'm saying at all.'

'Oh, really?'

'There are different rules for social intercourse on board ship. This Pimmel or Pinkus or whatever his name is has al-ready accosted me once. Give him one inch of encouragement now before we've left sight of land and the man will be living in our pockets for the remainder of the cruise.'

'Do you want to know what I think?' said Innes, bouncing up on his toes, voice rising alarmingly in pitch. 'I think you've read too many of your press clippings. I think you think you're better than other people. I'm twenty-four years old, Arthur, and I may never have been on a ship before, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten my manners and I shall speak to or dine with whomsoever I choose.'

Punctuating the impact of his outburst with a dramatic exit, Innes turned to go and threw open the door to the closet. To his credit, he kept his composure, gave the contents of the closet the once-over as if that had been his original intent, slammed the door with a satisfied grunt, and swept out of the cabin, knocking his hat off on the overhead again for good measure.

Five months without Larry, thought Doyle. Good Christ, I'll never make it back to England alive.

That evening, Doyle dined at the table of Captain Karl Heinz Hoffner unaccompanied by his younger brother, who took his first meal at the far end of the elegant hall, in the company of Ira Pinkus/Nels Pimmel and the other four pseudonyms under which Pinkus plied his trade for six different New York newspapers. Pinkus/Pimmel expressed glancing disappointment that Innes's illustrious brother would not be joining them, but then a worm doesn't eat its way to the center of the apple by starting at the core.

Infuriated by Arthur's snobbery, Innes experienced no misgivings afterward about the full menu of Conan Doyle anecdotes he trotted out for Pimmel as the meal progressed—what was the harm in it? Wasn't as if the man was openly interrogating him, and he seemed every bit as engrossed by Innes's own escapades with the Royal Fusiliers as he was about anything to do with the life and times of the Great Author. And Pimmel himself proved supremely entertaining on the subject of New York, particularly his intimate and apparently inexhaustible lowdown on Broadway show girls.

Why, no, it wouldn't be any trouble at all to introduce you to some of these gals, Pimmel assured him. Say, here's an idea: Why don't the two of us go out on the town one night with a great big bunch of them? Better yet,