He turned to the Greek hellcat.
‘Miss Kratides, take my card. As bodyguard to a man who no longer has need of one, you are without a position. A place could be found for someone with your skills in my business. One day, James, you will work it out. You will see the solution.’
The Colonel was none the wiser. Young James was laughing.
‘James,’ he said, ‘well spoken… and might I say that it’s time I… ah, that I was given your card?’
The Professor looked his youngest brother square in the face, then inclined his head in turn to the truncated wreck of the Kallinikos and the tied-up collection of sorry spies. He gazed up to dark skies, already tainted by the seeping red of dawn. He lifted his shoulders, indicating the mess of the world in general and this worm business in particular.
‘No, James. I have no place for you.’
‘Not sentiment,’ he’d said. ‘Not family,’ he’d meant.
Stationmaster Moriarty, least stony faced of the brothers, gulped as if he’d been slapped. I doubt if Colonel Moriarty was much impressed with his showing this night either. The Firm would not take him on and the Department of Supplies would have little further use for him. The GS&W Railway Company wouldn’t be too happy with his record, either. Someone would have to take the blame for the flaming crash at the swing bridge.
‘The Lizard to Newquay stopping train will be here in ten minutes, Moran,’ Moriarty said, tapping his watch chain. ‘We can change at Truro and be in London by midday.’
To the Stationmaster, the Professor said, ‘James, you will issue travel documents for Colonel Moran and myself. You will also have Berkins refund the monies extorted from us to board your Special.’
To the Colonel, the Professor said, ‘James, you will wish to remain here until your superiors arrive to have a report from you about this incident and take these gentlemen in hand. You will want to keep my involvement sub rosa.’
Neither of the Professor’s brothers were happy, but both did as they were told.
Now, Moriarty turned to the shadow man — who had patiently followed all this.
‘We have not met before, but you have been aware of me as long as I have been aware of you,’ the Professor addressed the spy master. ‘Your associates believe your intent was to deliver the secrets of the Kallinikos to a foreign power, simply for money.’
‘Not money, Professor.’ He smiled, thinly. ‘Numbers.’
Moriarty nodded.
‘You think yourself my mirror, I see. Well, then, numbers, if you will. You have traded secrets before, I know. You have stolen them simply to prove they can be stolen and sold them back to their original owners. But that is not your real interest, your passion. Which is for the game, the gamble. Now, you have crossed my path. I foresee a wearisome inevitability to future relations. I might tell you that you have learned your lesson, that you should from henceforth take care not to incommode me. I know you would take this as a challenge, and set out to inconvenience me. I shall, of course, counter your every move, and retaliate, hampering your larger plans. Neither of us will prevail, immediately. Our businesses will suffer in this, the true coming war. The situation will become impossible. There can be only one outcome.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Then you will withdraw?’
‘I agree there can only be one outcome,’ the ringer said. ‘I imagine we disagree about what it might be.’
‘Moran,’ the Professor said. ‘Kill him.’
I brought up my gun.
The Colonel began a protest.
I pulled back the hammer.
The shadow man remained calm. I’ve seen that before.
Again, I felt a knife at my throat. Again, my gun was taken. Again, Sophy.
Ah, Sophy, Sophy, Sophy.
‘This man is a prisoner, James,’ the Colonel said, with icy relish. ‘The property of the Department of Supplies.’
The Professor’s head oscillated. He was grinding his teeth.
Now, Colonel Moriarty — a punctured gasbag, filling out again — thought he was higher up the pole, and relaxed, confident in Sophy’s blade. Stationmaster Moriarty — still sulking at the rejection, swinging back to cling to his other brother — backed him up, and made show of checking the prisoner’s bonds.
‘You will not keep such a property,’ the Professor said.
I remembered the gun bound to Major Upshall’s hand. Someone as good with knots as that wouldn’t stay tied up long.
The shadow man’s face — if it was his own — flickered with amusement.
‘Catch your train, Professor Moriarty. We shall continue this match in due course. You will know where to find me.’
The Lizard to Newquay was puffing down the line. A whistle shrilled.
The Professor looked at the ringer, then at his brothers. No trace of expression all round.
Sophy gave me back my gun. I’d no doubt she’d kill me if I tried to use it. I still hoped she’d call on us in Conduit Street.
Berkins came up with tickets and a refund on our original fare.
No one said goodbye, so I did, cheerfully. It was a split decision as to whose expression was the most angry, miserable or murderous.
Moriarty and I boarded the train.
X
At Truro, we secured a first-class compartment on the Penzance to Paddington. Moriarty gave off such deadly emanations that — though the train was busy — no one dared to join us.
The Professor hadn’t spoken since Fal Vale.
I beetled off to the dining carriage and had a large breakfast. I winked and twirled my moustache at three ripe, giggling country girls going up to the city for a day trip. The way I felt after the night’s work, I could have ruined the lot of them before they had to catch their return train. Then, some hale fellows joined them and they giggled much more, pointing at me from behind tiny hands. I realised I was still soot-blackened, and repaired to the lavatory to scrub my face. The dirt came off, but the bruises were still there, and the cut to my throat. I also had a scratch in my side where I’d been stabbed. I felt ridiculously old.
I ordered a pot of coffee from the steward and went back to the compartment.
The Professor consented to drink. He was chewing over the night’s events.
There was the question of the ringer’s true identity, but that would keep. Instead, I asked the thing that had nagged at me ever since the meeting with Colonel Moriarty at Xeniades Club.
‘Moriarty,’ I said. ‘Why did your parents give their three sons the same name? Why are you all James?’
‘It was our father’s name. He wished to pass it on.’
‘To all of you?’
‘To a son who pleased him. It is my understanding that, upon my birth, he was pleased. In the nursery, as I began to show aptitude… with sums… he continued to be pleased. My mother also, I believe, though she never said as much. She never said much of anything, I recall. Father would review each week with me and declare himself pleased. Then, when I reached the age of six, he found himself less pleased. Then, not pleased at all. I went over my sums again and could find no error in my workings. So I reasoned that the failing was not in me, but in Father. I did not tell him as much, for I knew he would not see it that way.
‘Then, when I was seven, my brother was born. My brother James. Father was pleased with James. From the day of my brother’s birth, I believe my father spoke not one word to me. I was fed and clothed and schooled, but in the house, I was a ghost. My brother did not know who I was, but eventually gathered he would not be punished if he visited trifling nuisances and afflictions on me. Father was still pleased with James. In the nursery, and for some while after, he continued to be. My brother was James. He would not believe that was my name too. He only truly realised who I was, what my name was, when our brother was born. Our brother James. I was fourteen and James was seven. He lost the name too.