Upon a Nation's Honour: A Sherlock Holmes Adventure

Belanger

Chapter One

Naval Dockyard, Portsmouth, October 1906

The dense evening sea fog settled like a grey shroud over the naval dockyard, converting the bright electric lighting into pale glimmers that bisected the dismal gloom.

The massive ship rested silently within the huge dock. Her superstructure gleamed beneath the clammy embrace of the heavy fog. Her huge hull, dwarfed the dock in which she rested quietly. Her superstructure rose like a pyramid behind her frontal, armoured turrets sprouting barrels of her huge 12 inch cannons, their black, cavernous snouts, promising imminent and indefensible destruction to any, who might defy her absolute power.

She had been designed and constructed as the ultimate weapon of the sea and her introduction into the British Navy had at a single act rendered the battleships of the rest of the world obsolete.

High upon the steel gangway that overlooked the ship’s awful might, the naval sentry shivered, then assured himself that this involuntary action was occasioned by the clammy cold that infested the huge building in which the vessel lay.

Sidney Shilton had enlisted in His Majesty’s Royal Navy some three years earlier.

It had not been a decision taken lightly. It was a statement of his desire to improve his then foreseeable life, away from his expected future. Sidney had been born a son of a coal miner and having experienced the terrible conditions of those obliged to accept this arduous, dangerous and poorly paid occupation, had decided to break with the miner - son tradition.

In the Royal Navy, Sidney had discovered comradeship and the ability for unbelievable advancement, unavailable in civilian life. Sidney loved his new life and fortune appeared to favour him. Taller than the average sailor at that time, Sidney’s liking for female company, ensured him a collection of willing ladies, within any station that he was placed. Life couldn’t be better for Sidney.

Even his selection as naval sentry to stand guard over the mighty warship bothered him little. His superiors must trust him above others to place him in this prestigious situation. Suddenly, his whole body was overcome with a feeling of warmth and well being. His duty finished at 0600 hrs. tomorrow, and Sally had at last, agreed to walk out with him as his girl.

For a brief moment, his preoccupation with the possibilities of the forthcoming evening dulled his normally alert senses and thus, with a sense of shock, he suddenly felt the hard hand clamp over his mouth and then, the agonising bite of the blade that severed his wind pipe and aorta.

He wanted to say something - anything, yet the lack of air and the torrent of blood prevented this. As his dying body slowly slumped to the hard, glistening steel of the gangway, his departing senses briefly grappled with life then sank into the black pit of eternity.

Berlin, Germany, February 1906

The soft, milky blue orbs stared blankly into the roaring logs of the huge fire that bathed the otherwise dark room in a flickering canopy of light.

A man in his late fifties slumped unmoving within the confines of the leather, fireside chair. The deep crimson of the silk smoking jacket appeared crumpled by the man’s position and the twin ends of a hastily unravelled dinner tie, hung as loose fronds over the pristine white shirt that evidenced the onset of a paunch. Below the crimson cummerbund, the black clad right leg thrust straight and motionless towards the blazing fire. The other bent at an angle, allowing the foot to rest upon the heavy piled carpet of the room. The figure’s left hand, clasping a near empty balloon of brandy, rested motionless upon the corresponding arm of the chair. It was only the continual drumming of the left leg upon the floor that indicated any sign of life from the man before the large fire.

Colonel Sebastian Moran - formerly of Her Imperial Majesty’s forces then paid assassin of the late Professor Moriarty, hounded by the British authorities and forced to flee his country of birth - now sat within a large house upon the outskirts of Berlin, Germany.

Moran was deliberating upon the fortunes of his existence when, a slight tap was heard from a door to the side of the room. The hand clutching the glass moved and from within the chair a disgruntled voice spoke.

Ja?

The door opened, emitting a bright shard of electrical light from the areas without the room.

Herr Oberst, General von Schiffert is here, said a voice in near perfect English.

Ask the General to come in Karl, instructed Moran. May I turn on the electric lights, Herr Oberst? enquired the other.

Yes!

Suddenly the room became illuminated, evidencing the heavy tapestries and rich decor associated with 19th. century German furnishings.

General von Schiffert walked into the room and stood before Moran. He bowed politely and spoke.

Oberst Moran, Ich denke das die Zeit fur eines kleines gesproch hat gekommen.

Moran rose slowly from his chair and regarded the other.

Bitte, Herr General, he began, Ich spreche nicht gut Deutsch. Wollen sie auf Englische sprechen?"

The general smiled softly. Of course, he replied in perfect English. Please forgive me. I thought that the last year within my country, might have afforded you a greater understanding of our language.

Moran placed his glass of brandy upon the small table that stood close and smiled a corresponding response.

Then you must forgive my tardiness, Herr General, he said. During my time in your country I have had little opportunity to leave this house and meet with other Germans. My staff, such as you have provided, normally converse with me in my own language although Karl, upon my insistence, attempts to teach me your tongue.

Von Schiffert inclined his head politely. I understand perfectly, he began. I have been fortunate enough, as a member of the Kaiser’s Sichersheitdienst, to have been afforded to opportunity to learn several languages.

At these words, Moran stiffened perceptibly.

Sicherheitsdienst?

Secret Service, replied von Schiffert.

Germany possesses a Secret Service? asked Moran to which the other nodded.

A new country, struggling to assert itself within larger countries envious of its potential power and ambitions, requires intelligence, he stated. Now! If I may sit down? Moran, realising his faux pas, hurriedly indicated another chair that rested opposite to the one in which he had been sitting. Please, Herr General. he expostulated. Forgive my rudeness.

Von Schiffert settled himself within the proffered chair.

Perhaps some refreshment, continued Moran. A little supper? Von Schiffert shook his head.

I have eaten already at my club, he remarked. However, a glass of brandy would be most appreciated.

Moran called out, Karl!

The door opened again, and the orderly entered. Ya! Herr Oberst?

Zwei grossen Brandiies, schnell! ordered Moran.

Jawohl! Herr Oberst! replied the other and disappeared from the room.

You are learning something, mused von Schiffert. When you indicated the figure of two, you used your thumb and the first finger. An Englishman would employ the first and second fingers. A definite give-away, if you are attempting to impersonate a European of whatever nationality. I note that you maybe learning some of our ways.

For a few moments while they awaited the delivery of their drinks, the men talked innocently upon such subjects as, the beauty of the Unter den Linden in spring and, the jollity of the Tiergarten with its cosmopolitan atmosphere.

However, following the reappearance of Karl with the refreshment and his final disappearance behind the closed door, the atmosphere of the room became far more serious.

Are you enjoying your stay in my country? enquired von Schiffert.

Germany has proved a most welcoming state, replied Moran. Every wish and desire has been most attended to. Such a change from the reception I was used to in my country of birth.

Von Schiffert nodded contentedly. For this, I may only say that Germany will always welcome those who feel obliged to shall I say, change their national allegiance. he murmured.

He regarded Moran and his face became fixed. I may assume that this fact has occurred? he enquired.

Moran had little problem in his reply. Be assured, Herr von Schiffert that any loyalty that I may have formerly shown to my country of birth, no longer exists. The English have rewarded me with nothing but rejection and hatred. That is why I travelled to Germany, where shall I say, my talents may be more appreciated. Von Schiffert smiled wickedly.

Good! Then I assume that a small request to you upon my government’s behalf that might result in some injury to England would cause you little consternation?

Moran nodded. I have little but utter hatred for a country that has so churlishly abandoned me and more to the point, would surely hang me, if I remained within their jurisdiction, he stated. Pray tell me - how may I be of service?

How far are you prepared to go to damage your previous country? asked von Schiffert.

To whatever lengths you wish me to travel, replied Moran.

Good! exclaimed von Schiffert, That is all I wish to determine. Now I will tell you what I need you to do. Von Schiffert paused and took a sip of his brandy before continuing.

Be assured, colonel Moran that, should you accept my commission and waiver in any way, then the luxury you have enjoyed within my country will cease and you will immediately be repatriated to the country toward which you bear so much hatred. I do not have to illustrate what will then become of you, should this unhappy event occur.

Moran appeared unaffected. Then tell me what you wish me to do? he said.

Von Schiffert took another gulp at his brandy, Quite simply, Colonel Moran, he said softly. You are to head a team of men that I shall personally recruit, travel to England and obtain a piece of equipment that may prove vital to our navy’s performance in any future conflict with the country that you, so obviously despise. Would you be willing to undertake such an exercise?

For a few moments, Moran stroked his throat as if feeling the knot of the hangman’s rope.

You make it impossible for me to refuse, he said softly.

Warehouse, Albert Smith & Co, Portsmouth, October 1906

Albert Smith had arrived in Portsmouth late in 1898, acquired a reasonably lengthy lease on a small warehouse and commenced business as a wholesale grocer.

Within his first two years, Albert’s business had grown to such an extent that, by 1900, he purchased the freehold to a large building and transferred his stock into more accommodatable premises.

It must be said that, although Albert’s personal business acumen contributed in no small way to the success of the business, most of the larger orders had emanated from European clients, resulting in regular deposits of considerable sums within his company’s accounts.

The fact that all of these payments came from the same Zurich based bank, had not bothered Albert in the slightest. As is the case with most greedy men, the end tends to cloud the means.

His sizeable profits allowed Albert to install electric lighting throughout his new warehouse. This action proved of immense benefit since, it permitted the employment of shift workers to attend to the orders of client’s requiring a 24 hour dispatch and delivery service, unheard of in other companies.

As his business grew, so did his prestige within the town.

By July, 1901, Albert had been invited to join the board of the local Chamber of Commerce and approached by the local branch of the Liberal party to offer himself for election as town councillor.

In June, 1902, Councillor Smith met, wooed and wed Mary, the youngest daughter of a well-established estate agent and shortly thereafter, moved into a delightful town house in the most sought after section of the town.

By December, 1903, the happy couple had been blessed by the arrival of twin boys who both, having survived the vagaries of childbirth, enjoyed a most robust health.

By the advent of 1906, Albert had become one of the town’s most prominent businessmen whose annual European holidays were the talk of the town.

As he stood within the somewhat dusty confines of his warehouse and surveyed the mountains of stacked goods, he should have been the happiest man in the world. But he wasn’t Albert Smith and his grocery empire were as false as a flying flat fish.

Born Albrecht Schmidt in Danzig, east Prussia on the 23rd. August 1866, he was only 4 years old when Bismarck created the new unified state of Germany.

Following compulsory military service in the German army, he had decided to make a career in law and applied for a place in the University of Leipzig.

Unknown to Albrecht, his military training had attracted the attention of certain senior officers, both for his effort and success in undertaking the most difficult actions and more to the point, his frequent outbursts amongst his comrades, about the need to show total loyalty to Germany and the Emperor.

Shortly before he was due to take up his place as a student of law, he was visited by the two gentlemen who would alter his future life completely.

The gentlemen stated that they represented an organisation known as the Aussland Gerichts Dienst des Deutches Reichs whose sole purpose was the protection of German interests outside the Second Reich.

They informed Albrecht that the time had now arrived where his accepted loyalty might be given a far more positive purpose.

The men explained to Albrecht that, should he seek to perform this service, he would be well-rewarded and that his future would be one of ease and luxury. The only request was that he leave his country of birth and move to England.

He had also been informed that whereas he might never be required to repay the offered