Unknown (34 page)

Holmes's words would not
have been audible five feet from where we were standing. Perhaps it
was a subconscious recognition of the fact that his name had been
used that caused the man at the table in the basement to suddenly
raise his head, and then, to my horror, he turned and was looking
straight at us. The light of the large room penetrated through
the half-open door that was our observation post, and I saw
Memory Max suddenly spring to his feet in alarm, his mouth opening to
sound a warning.

Holmes closed the door
quickly, seizing me by the arm and propelling me back along the
corridor that we had traversed.

"We were spotted,
Watson, worse luck. But all is not lost. Let us strategically make
ourselves known of our own volition."

We were rushing towards
the front of the building. Then it dawned on me what Holmes intended
to do.

"Good Lord, you are
not just going to brazenly
burst in on Chu, are you? Let us
take to our heels, Holmes."

"We're outnumbered
and surrounded, ol' fellow. When all is lost, attack! A theory that
you used quite effectively in your adventure with Loo Chan, if you
will recall."

Holmes had me there. I
had blundered in on the Chinese lawyer and created enough surprise
and consternation to bluff myself out of a messy corner. Possibly it
would work again, though I sensed that Holmes was motivated by
another and deeper purpose.

We were in a wide hall
now that seemed to run the length of the building, and through open
doors several men registered on our pell-mell rush past them. I did
not take time to note their appearance or nationality.

Then we were in the main
room of what had to have once been a government building. It was two
stories in height and seemed too imposing for a common jail, but
perhaps that was a function assumed by the edifice later in its
varied history. It was brightly lit. The tall windows that stretched
along the front wall of the building were all cunningly covered
by a felt-like material that provided an effective blackout. In
direct contrast to the building's abandoned appearance, this place
seemed as populated as St. Pancreas or Waterloo Station. The whole
busy scene was dominated by a huge chair on an upraised section of
the floor in which sat the bewhiskered Chu San Fu.

"Well," I
thought, "he's come as close to a throne as he could. Or would,"
was my second thought, for I was betting on Sherlock Holmes.

Our sudden entrance
caused a universal cessation of activity, and this core of Chu's
criminal conspiracy became as silent as a pharaoh's ancient tomb.

"We are delighted
to drop in on you again, Chu San Fu," said Holmes in his most
casual manner.

As he advanced towards
the several steps leading up to the Chinaman's elevated position, I
could do naught but follow and hope that I seemed as unconcerned as
my friend did.

The Oriental's amber
eyes shifted quickly to the door through which we had come.

"Where are your
guards?" said Chu San Fu. There was a flicker of worry in his
eyes.

"Disposed of, but
let's not dwell on that. We had to come face to face. That was your
intent all along so that you could inform me that, at the last cast
of the dice, it was you who had scored the winning point. Well, I am
the bearer of sad tidings. It is all over. It's not going to work at
all."

I am sure that better
than half the men in the room didn't understand a word Holmes was
saying and the rest couldn't divine what he was getting at. But such
was the conviction of his manner, so bright was the triumphant light
in his commanding eyes, that they remained motionless,
transfixed, as was I for that matter. A room populated by the dregs
of the underworlds of half a dozen nations was suddenly dominated by
two personalities. The rest of us might as well have been pieces of
furniture. The resolution of this monstrous matter now rested in the
clash of two minds, and every man jack of us knew it. The whole
affair was reduced to its basic elements. The evil genius of the
crime czar, Chu San Fu, and the brilliance of my friend, Sherlock
Holmes.

Chu's frail and aged
form seemed to have shrunk within the ornamental Chinese robe that he
wore, but this was but the reaction of a moment. Then his lips
twisted in an evil smile as he realized again his position of
strength.

"You speak bold
words, Holmes, for a man in the clutches of his sworn enemy."

"You know me well
enough to realize they are not idle ones. I'll give you high marks,
Chu, for not fearing the devil himself. Had I, some time back,
outlined your plan and its scope, I would have been laughed out of
Whitehall and Scotland Yard as well. The very grandiosity of your
scheme lent it a protective cover, for it savored of the dreams of a
madman."

"There have been
other so-called madmen," replied the Oriental stroking his long
white chin whiskers, separated into two strands as was his custom.
Holmes dismissed his words with an imperious wave of his hand.

"Spare us the
recitation of conquerors like Genghis Khan and Napoleon, for that
monologue has been oft-used. You are making ready for your revelation
at the Mosque of al-Ashar."

I had been waiting for
it and rejoiced in the viewing. It came as I knew it would. That
sudden stab of fear in the closely guarded eyes of the Oriental.

"You know of that?"
he asked, and there was a quaver in his voice.

"I know of it all.
The tomb is now covered, and the entrance to the Valley of the Kings
is guarded by an army detachment."

Chu San Fu sprang to his
feet instinctively and then sank back into his imposing chair,
steeling himself to recover his control and his dignity. Holmes had
often said that the grip of a criminal on his underlings was in large
part psychological, and the Chinaman was aware of this as well.

"How did you find
the tomb?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Followed the trail
that led you to it," was Holmes's glib response. "No
difficulty there, but I will admit that the golden tablets and the
great store you placed in them threw me off a bit. However, a remark
by my associate, Watson, brought me back on target."

"How much do you
actually know?" Chu's query was delivered without any show of
emotion. Centuries of Oriental stoicism had taken charge, and
his face was now as impassive as a sheet of burnished bronze. I
also suspected that for the first time he was actually considering
the possibility of defeat.

"I don't know,"
said Holmes, "how long you have nurtured this scheme, nor
is it important. You took a series of facts and had the imagination
to fuse them into a unity—your plan being to rewrite history.
Events dealt you a nice set of cards. First, you had a basic truth.
This Nile Valley is the origin of recorded history, and no one will
deny it. There are myths and folklore about other civilizations, but
they left no mark of their passage nor monuments of their greatness
that can predate this birthplace of civilization. All that comes from
ancient Egypt is marked first in the book of man. That was the base
of the power pyramid that you strove to create."

"The next fact you
seized upon was the pharaoh Akhenaten's attempt to establish a
Utopia at Tell el-Amarna built round a one-god religion, long before
Christianity, of course. Possibly that is what sparked the idea in
your mind."

Chu San Fu gave no
indication one way or another but simply gestured for Holmes to
continue. I could not decipher his emotions at this point.

"Many knew or
suspected that the Sacred Sword had been placed in the hands of
Captain Spaulding as a safeguard against a fanatical religious
uprising, and you decided to secure it as your opening gun. By
spreading the word throughout the Mohammedan world that you will
appear with the fabled sword, you have drawn an audience of
religious leaders, but the sword is only the beginning."

"It was the
decoding of the secret writings by Howard Andrade that opened the
road to authenticity. It gave you the cloak to conceal the mark of
the charlatan. No one but Andrade has been able to decipher those
obscure symbols. You have two of the golden tablets, and it is known
that they provide examples of the writings, another fact that you
planned to use to your advantage."

"You planted Memory
Max with the Englishman, depending on his photographic memory to
record the key to Andrade's discovery. Then you spirited Max here
with the tablets to remove the original hieroglyphics and forge a new
message upon them. Little is known of
the pharaoh Akhenaten.
The Egyptians attempted to obliterate him from their written history.
But you plan to write that history to suit your purpose. In your
version, duly forged on the golden tablets, the god Aton, espoused by
Akhenaten, will bear a striking resemblance to the Allah of Mohammed.
Akhenaten will be recorded as the first prophet, making Mohammed the
second, and it will be foretold that the third prophet will come from
the east, bearing the sword of he who preceded him."

"You hope to shake
a widespread religion to its core. Especially since the golden
tablets will be found within the only unrifled tomb of a pharaoh as
yet discovered. Your thought was to plant them within the tomb, of
course, then have the royal grave covered and its location revealed
by you in a vision before the gathering of Moslems in the mosque.
Once the tomb is found and the tablets discovered, the world of
archaeology will see to it that Andrade is summoned to translate
them, which he will eagerly do, being an unsuspecting tool. The whole
fabrication will defy doubt—the tablets being genuine, the tomb
as well, and the message of the coming of the third prophet being
revealed by an unimpeachable source. Really, the detail of the plot
is admirable. However, it won't work now."

Chu San Fu had been
watching Holmes with unmoving eyes. Several times there had been a
restless shifting among his followers, who formed the mute audience
for Holmes's re-creation, but the Oriental had halted them with a
slight gesture of one of his thin and bony hands. Now he replied in a
businesslike voice, much more chilling to me than an emotional
outburst, since it indicated that his first-class brain was still
working efficiently and had not given way to panic or frustration.

"You have blunted
my capabilities, Holmes, but not destroyed them. The tomb idea
was a major part of my plan, but it can be abandoned. The golden
tablets can be discovered in some other manner, though not as
convincingly, that I'll admit."

Holmes was shaking his
head. "Come now, you intend to appear as the rumored messiah.
You cannot pass yourself off as anything but Chinese. Mohammedanism
spread as far as India but no further east, so that is one mark
against you immediately."

"Holmes, you are
thinking hopefully, not rationally. Prophets spring from faith, not
countries. The man who has the Sacred Sword is the one who will grasp
their attention. When I appear and it is verified that I have
the authentic sword of Mohammed, then all the various sects of
the Islamic religion will be prepared to listen and to accept."

"I must agree,"
was Holmes's surprising response. "I suspected some time ago
that the sword was vital to your plans, though I had but a dim idea
of what you were up to. Therefore, Watson and I were observers the
night your men stole it from the Mayswood farm."

Chu San Fu's restored
confidence received a jarring blow from this revelation.

"Doctor Watson was
within the house, that I know, but you were not there."

"Correction. I was.
You used four men. They came in over the balcony to the secret room
they already knew about. They placed the sword aboard the early
freight to London and from there it was taken to the hold of the
Hishouri Kamu to be transported here."

Each statement from
Holmes was like a body blow to the Oriental. His calmness was a
departed thing, and his jaw hung loosely.

"If you knew all
that—"

"Now it is
beginning to dawn, is it not? Do you think I would have let you take
that sword and the commanding position that it would bring to you?
Two nights before you raided the Mayswood Farm, my men performed the
same function. They took the real relic and left a duplicate in its
place."

I believe I was as
astonished as the Chinaman. Chu sprang to his feet, crossing to a
small table adjacent to his chair on which was a teak case fully five
feet long. As he feverishly opened it, I realized why Slim Gilligan
and Slippery Styles had been down country before my arrival. Holmes
had been one step ahead of his adversary all along.