How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand wither,
May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,
If I do not remember you.'
'Amen,' he murmured, surprising me again.
The land receded to a smear of lights against greater darkness, and we went below.
BOOK FOUR: MASTERY
Battle Is Joined
FOURTEEN: The act begins
Isolate her, and however abundant the food or favourable the temperature, she will expire in a few days not of hunger or cold, but of loneliness.
The ship's engines picked up in pitch even before we reached the common cabin, and the powerful movement beneath our feet told of some speed. I made for the bath and gratefully shed my dust- thick, sweat-stiff, pungent, threadbare clothing. One hour and three changes of water later I arose transformed: my nails pink and white, my hair freed at last from its concealing wraps, my skin tingling and alive. I slipped on the long, embroidered kaftan I had bought in the stuj in Nablus and, feeling positively sensuous as I glided across the floor, a female again in my loose clothing after weeks of squatting, striding, and scratching, I went to make a large pot of English tea. Holmes had bathed elsewhere and sat reading The Times, dressed in a clean shirt and dressing gown as if he had never gone unshaven, never slept wrapped in goatskins, never concerned himself with the local fauna taking up residence in his scalp. I picked up a delicate bone china cup and laughed silently in sheer delight.
There came a knock at the door, and the captain's 'Good evening, Mr. Holmes,' I heard. 'Permission to enter?'
'Come in, Jones, come in.'
'I trust you had a satisfactory stay in Palestine, sir?' the captain said.
'Simple pleasures for simple minds,' Holmes murmured.
His words actually startled the good captain into a reaction, causing him to run an experienced eye over the fading green-yellow bruises on Holmes' face and glance for a moment at the neat bandage peeking out from the sleeve of my kaftan. He even went so far as to open his mouth on a comment, but before he could lose control so completely he made a visible effort, snapped his jaws shut, and then turned to close the door. Holmes glanced at me with an expression that looked suspiciously like mischief.
'And you, Captain Jones,' he said. 'I hope you have had a successful January, though I see you haven't spent too much of it aboard ship. How was France? Rebuilding already, I see.' Silence fell, and as I came out of the galley I saw a familiar look of wary perplexity on the captain's face.
'How do you know where I've been? Oh, sorry: Evenin', Miss.' He touched his cap.
'No major mystery, Jones. Your skin tells me that you've spent no great time in the sun since you left us, and your new hair pomade and the watch on your wrist tell me you have spent a day in Paris. Don't worry,' he said with a chuckle, 'I haven't had spies on you. Just my own eyes.'
'I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Holmes. If I thought you'd been nosing about I'd be forced to have some gentlemen ask you a few hard questions. Not to offend, sir, it'd just be my job.'
'I understand, Jones, and I am careful to see only those things that tell me of unimportant activities.'
'That's probably for the best, sir. Oh yes, this packet is for you. It was sent by a courier from London last week, into my own hands — in Paris, in fact.' I was standing close to him and reached out for it, but Holmes' voice cut in, sharp, scathing, and utterly authoritative. 'Not to Miss Russell, Jones. This and any future official conveyences will be delivered personally to me, and to me alone. Do you understand, Captain Jones?'
In the cabin's shocked silence Holmes rose and walked forward, coldly took the packet from the captain's hand, and went to open it by the window. Jones stared at his back for a moment, then looked at me in open amazement.
A flush of shame crept into my face, and I turned abruptly and went into my cabin, slamming the door. A minute later I heard the outer door close behind the captain.
We had begun our play.
In a few minutes I heard two light taps on my door.
I stood and went to the window before responding. 'Come in, Holmes.'
'Russell, this packet is most — ah. I see. The mind was willing but the heart taken aback, I take it?' How he could discern my distress from looking at my spine, I cannot think.
'No, no, it was just the suddenness of it, it took me unawares.' I turned to face him. 'I was not expecting to begin the act so quickly. However, perhaps it is for the best. The captain is now aware that something is amiss, and I doubt that I could have acted that particular scene.
I'm not exactly Sarah Bernhardt.' My smile was a bit forced.
'It was indeed most convincing. I fear there will be any number of painful moments before this act is over.'
'The lines are written; we must speak them,' I said dismissively. 'Now, what were you saying about Mycroft's packet?'
'Here, look for yourself. Our adversary has been most prudent. I am filled with admiration for her technique. Were it not that she presses so close in on me, I should relish this case greatly, for I cannot remember one in which such a large number of clues led absolutely nowhere. I think I shall go and fill my pipe.'
The packet was a thick one. I put aside for later reading the five fat envelopes with Mrs. Hudson's writing and stamps from various ports of call, and looked at Mycroft's offering. Numerous pages from the laboratories at Scotland Yard described the prints on the cab, the button with its attached bit of tweed, and the analysis of the three bombs, one in grisly detail. It was the description of the hive bomb that illuminated the most, and in fact changed the entire picture. The investigation had found that the charge was ignited, not by Holmes' clumsiness, but by a hair-thin wire that ran from the hive he had been checking, hidden beneath the grass, to the bomb in the next hive. Mycroft's men had found it in the wreckage.
'She never meant to kill you, then!'
'I was glad to see that. The problem had troubled rne. Oh, not her murder attempt, but that mine was the first. The whole point of killing you and Watson, as I read it, was to hurt me, but how could I be hurt by your deaths if I were already dead? I was very pleased to see that explained by the trigger. It also confirms that you shall be safe if we appear alienated. I shall have to arrange for a discreet guard for Mrs. Hudson when she returns from Australia, but Watson's protection we shall continue to leave to Mycroft.'
The rest of the pages were interesting, but not as important as the fact of the wire trigger. The prints on the intact Oxford bomb were those of the deceased man, and his alone. The cab's prints included those of Holmes, myself, and Billy, its owner and another driver (both of whom Lestrade had interviewed and released), and two others, one of whom had a thumbprint matching the one on the button. This gentleman was well-known to the police record books and was soon apprehended. His colleague made an escape out the back window of his house and was ru- moured to have fled to America. The large man in custody was being charged with all the injuries done to Billy and to the cab, but Lestrade was of the opinion that the man would not be threatened into revealing anything concerning his employer. 'He does not appear frightened of retribution,' wrote Lestrade, 'simply very firm in his refusal, despite threats of a long prison term for the assault. It should be noted that his wife and their two teenaged sons have recently moved into a new house and seem to have an income from outside. Their bank account does not reflect any great change, but they have significant quantities of cash to spend. Thus far enquiries
