The Disappearance of Alistair Ainsworth Page 3

  “And pray tell, how did you know this harm might occur?”

  “Because my daughter-in-law predicted it.”

  Lestrade gave us a long quizzical look. “How did she arrive at this conclusion?”

  “From a meeting we had with Verner late last night.”

  “Here?”

  “In our rooms at 221b Baker Street.”

  “Might I know the reason for this late-night meeting?”

  “Perhaps the most unusual tale you will ever hear,” my father responded. “Please allow my daughter-in-law to describe the frightful journey Verner was compelled to take.”

  “Compelled, you say?” Lestrade asked at once.

  “Persuaded may be a better word,” Joanna said, and began a detailed narrative, often using Verner’s own words to describe the major features.

  Lestrade listened intently, but his interest was obviously piqued by the mention of a carriage, with its windows covered, that traveled a most circuitous route. He tapped a finger against his chin before asking, “The doctor had no idea of his destination?”

  “None whatsoever,” Joanna replied. “He was told the patient was a personage of high standing whose identity and location were not to be disclosed under any circumstances.”

  “Strange,” Lestrade commented.

  “Stranger yet was the fact that the patient was supposedly a mute who could only converse with chalk and blackboard, since Verner was not familiar with sign language. I will not go into detail at this point, but suffice it to say Verner was under the distinct impression that the patient was feigning his symptoms of abdominal discomfort.”

  “Why would the patient conjure up such an illness?”

  “As a clever way to communicate. When asked where his pain was most severe, the patient took Verner’s hand and pressed it to his abdomen. When asked if the pain moved about, the patient surreptitiously guided the doctor’s hand and spelled out the word HELP on his abdomen.”

  Lestrade’s eyes widened. “Was Dr. Verner convinced of this?”

  “Beyond any doubt, for Verner repeated the question and once more the patient wrote the word HELP. In that a secret method of communication was now established, Verner inquired as to the patient’s name. The supposed mute was only able to spell the letters TU before he was compelled to stop because his captor had become suspicious and moved in for a closer look. Verner quick-wittedly made the diagnosis of acute inflammation of the gallbladder and advised immediate hospitalization in an effort to remove the patient from his captivity. But the captors refused to follow the advice and only asked for pain medication before sending Verner on his way.”

  Lestrade shook his head in wonderment. “In all my years I have never heard such a tale.”

  “Nor I,” Joanna said. “And now allow me to explain why we feel Dr. Verner is in such danger. After departing the patient’s house, he was driven some twenty minutes away and unceremoniously let out in the midst of a storm, with a most menacing warning not to mention the patient or his illness to anyone. He was told the consequences of such action would be very unpleasant for all involved. We of course advised Verner to follow those instructions while we devised a plan of action.”

  “I take it he did not and this is the reason for your alarm.”

  “Oh, but he did. Unfortunately his captors thought otherwise. You see, in the morning newspaper, there was a notice offering a reward for information on the whereabouts of Alistair Ainsworth who also responds to the name Tubby. Thus it seems clear that our supposedly mute patient was attempting to spell out his nickname.”

  Lestrade’s jaw dropped. In an instant he dashed to the door of the surgery and closed it securely. When he rejoined us, he spoke in a voice so low it resembled a whisper. “Have you spoken to anyone of this?”

  “Only you,” Joanna replied.

  “See that it stays that way,” Lestrade said. “For you have entered dangerous waters.”

  “Please be so kind as to—”

  Lestrade held up his hand. “At this point, you must allow me to ask the questions, with you supplying the most detailed of answers. It is the location of the house the doctor visited that is of obvious importance. Although the windows of his carriage were covered, did he give you any information on the neighborhood they eventually reached?”

  “Only that it was residential and of the upper class. It was quite dark, but he could discern the house was two storied and well built.”

  “And its interior?”

  “Unremarkable, except there were indications the home was rented.”

  “Why rented?”

  “A number of features, which included a lack of furniture and no mirrors or paintings on the walls. In addition, there was unopened mail stacked up on a table in the foyer. Obviously the captors had little interest in the mail. Long-term occupants would, short-term renters would not.”

  “Did Dr. Verner give a description of these captors?”

  Joanna thought for a moment before saying, “He came in contact with only one. The man was tall and broad shouldered, with close-cut blond hair and a noticeable facial tic.”

  “His accent?” Lestrade asked pointedly.

  “Neutral, but he was in all likelihood a German.”

  “Based on his physical characteristics?”

  “Based on his use of the word FENSTER,” Joanna said, and explained its German meaning and the context in which the term window was used. “There is no doubt that German was his native tongue.”

  An expression of deep concern came to Lestrade’s face and this was attested to by the gravity of his next words. “We must locate this house at all costs. There is not a moment to lose.”

  “Unfortunately we have so little to go on,” my father said unhappily. “There are dozens of upper-class residential neighborhoods in London, all of which have well-built houses too numerous to count.”

  “But the house was in all likelihood leased,” Lestrade noted. “Perhaps we could narrow down our search somewhat by inquiring about recent rentals from leasing agents.”

  “That would take far too long,” Joanna pointed out. “Moreover, we do not know if the house was in fact let by an agent and, if it was, how long ago the transaction took place.”

  “The owner could have simply posted a to-let advertisement in various bulletins or newspapers,” I added.

  Lestrade sighed resignedly. “I am open to any other courses of action we might pursue.”

  “There is one that may prove worthwhile,” Joanna said, and motioned to a small broken bottle on the floor next to the bloodstained cabinet. “You will note the strong odor of chloroform that emanates from that broken vial. A fierce struggle took place here during which the cabinet door was smashed and a small bottle of chloroform fell to the tile floor and shattered. Dr. Verner and his captors may have stepped upon the damp areas of chloroform and thus they carry its scent on the soles and heels of their shoes.”

  “So?” Lestrade asked impatiently.

  “It can be followed.”

  “By whom, may I ask?”

  “By a hound named Toby Two who has the keenest nose in all London.”

  “Where do we find this hound?”

  “At number three Pinchin Lane in the lower quarter of Lambeth,” Joanna replied by memory. “Tell the kennel owner that only Toby Two will do and that the request is made by Dr. Watson, the longtime associate of Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Are you convinced the dog can perform such a feat?”

  Joanna nodded firmly. “She once tracked the faint odor of French perfume from Victoria Station to the northern reaches of Edgware Road without missing a beat.”

  Lestrade raced for the door. “I must call Lieutenant Dunn and request that he join us at once.”

  “From Naval Intelligence?” I asked. “Is he the same officer who was a member of our team that solved the case of A Study in Treason?”

  “The very same.”

  “So we are dealing here with espionage.”

  �
��I can say no more,” Lestrade said. “Now I must ask that you remain in this room and speak to no one until Lieutenant Dunn arrives. A constable will be posted at the door to make certain no unauthorized person can enter this surgery.”

  “Please instruct the lieutenant to make haste, for we are faced with a most urgent matter,” Joanna implored. “Dr. Verner’s life is very much at stake here.”

  “As is the fate of all England,” Lestrade said darkly, and closed the door behind him.

  4

  The Chase

  Lieutenant Dunn arrived before Toby Two. On entering, he gave us a perfunctory nod, then led the way into a vacant, windowless office where, upon closing the door, he briefed us on the Official Secrets Act, to which we were about to be sworn. As he uttered the solemn oath that bound us to keep secret all matters revealed and committed to us, the gravity of the situation grew even greater. Lestrade’s warning that “the fate of all England” may be at stake continued to ring in our ears.

  “Now let us begin,” Dunn said in an emotionless voice. “I would like you to again recount the entire story told to you by Dr. Verner. Give me only facts and avoid assumptions.”

  “Any assumptions I render will be based on fact and should not be so readily discarded,” Joanna countered. “With so little to guide us, both could prove to be quite useful.”

  “Agreed, but you must distinguish between the two,” Dunn said. “Please start with the moment Dr. Verner arrived at your rooms on Baker Street.”

  Joanna repeated the strange tale, providing the same details given to Inspector Lestrade. The only additions were the reasons why Verner believed the patient was not mute, but was instructed by his captors to act as if he were. “I assumed Verner was correct in believing Alistair Ainsworth was not mute.”

  Dunn did not reply to the assumption. “Was he restrained?”

  “Not that Verner mentioned.”

  “Or evidence of torture?”

  “Again none was mentioned, but I feel certain that, if any were present, Verner would have been impressed and brought them to our attention.”

  “Torture is not uncommon in these situations,” Dunn remarked. He was a tall man, well built, with a resolute expression and deep-set, piercing eyes. “The Germans are quite expert at inflicting pain when it serves their purpose.”

  “It may have been used here, but the evidence was hidden from sight,” Joanna replied. “When Vernon performed his examination, Ainsworth was fully clothed, with only his shirt opened to allow for inspection of the abdomen. Thus, torture applied to the captive’s back and extremities would go unnoticed.”

  “Your point is well taken,” Dunn said, with the briefest of nods, then tapped a finger against his chin while muttering something indecipherable under his breath. “Well, at the least he remains alive, which indicates they have not yet broken him.”

  “Perhaps they won’t,” Lestrade said, injecting a note of optimism.

  “Every man has his breaking point,” Dunn said stonily. “Even the toughest of them. And once broken, they spill everything.”

  “Exactly what is it that Mr. Ainsworth will be spilling?” Joanna asked. “And why is it so valuable to the Germans?”

  Dunn’s face closed. “You and your associates are on a need-to-know basis. The questions you ask are well beyond your purview.”

  “Do you wish our assistance?” Joanna asked.

  “Indeed we do.”

  “Then you must remove our blindfolds, for if we remain in the dark, no solution will be reached.”

  “I can only state that Mr. Ainsworth was involved at the highest level of national security.”

  We returned to the examining room and carefully avoided stepping on the scattered glass and instruments strewn on the floor near the medicine cabinet. Joanna stressed the need to avoid anything that carried the aroma of chloroform, which was the scent to be followed.

  “It will require the keenest of noses to track that evanescent odor across London,” said Dunn.

  “One is on the way,” Joanna assured.

  “Can the hound do it from a moving carriage?”

  “That is where she performs best.”

  “So you have been told?”

  “So I have witnessed.”

  The door to the examining room opened and Toby Two romped in, sliding across the slippery tile floor. She came to a stop at Joanna’s feet and looked up, as if awaiting instructions. The hound appeared to ignore everyone else in the room.

  Joanna reached down to scratch the dog’s head, then grasped her leash before addressing the group. “Toby Two, Watson, my husband, and I will be in the lead carriage. Inspector Lestrade and Lieutenant Dunn should follow in a second carriage, accompanied by two constables. I would advise you have your weapons at the ready.”

  “How will you determine we are on the correct track?” Dunn asked.

  “By observing Toby Two’s tail,” Joanna replied.

  She went to the medicine cabinet to obtain an empty glass vial with a screw top. After opening it, she secured a small piece of glass from the shattered chloroform bottle and placed it into the vial before resealing it tightly.

  “If we travel by motorcar, it will save a great deal of time,” Dunn suggested.

  “It might also confuse Toby Two,” Joanna said. “Motor fumes carrying the strong smell of burned petrol will accumulate within the car and could throw Toby Two off her mark.”

  We hurried to our carriage and headed away from the heavily populated, commercial district of Kensington. Joanna waited until we were two blocks west of Verner’s practice before opening the glass vial and placing it under Toby Two’s nose. She waited only a few seconds for the hound to familiarize herself with the odor of chloroform, then resealed it and gave out instructions, “Go, girl! Go!”

  In an instant Toby Two had her head out the carriage window, yelping happily, with her tail wagging at a rapid pace. There could be no doubt we were on track, which stirred excitement among us all. But the most vexing questions remained foremost in our minds. Who was Alistair Ainsworth and what was his governmental function that was so vital to England?

  “Could Ainsworth be a spy?” I wondered aloud.

  “That is unlikely,” Joanna replied. “British spies for the most part operate in foreign countries, not in London.”

  “Perhaps he is a high-ranking officer in the Admiralty,” my father suggested.

  “Who was out of uniform when captured?” Joanna countered. “You may recall that Alistair Ainsworth was dressed in civilian attire when he was examined by Verner.”

  After a prolonged pause, I offered another possibility. “Perhaps he was a diplomat or courier of some sort.”

  Joanna flicked her wrist. “Guesses! All guesses, none of which advances our cause. All we can say with certainty is that Alistair Ainsworth was privy to very sensitive information that the Germans desperately wish to lay their hands on.”

  Suddenly Toby Two became overly excited. She yelped and, with her paws on the bottom of the window, extended her head out into the morning air. The strength of the scent had obviously intensified. All eyes went to the neighborhood we were passing through. It was not residential, but rather a street lined with fashionable stores and quaint shops. Toby Two was now leaning so far out the window I feared she would fall onto the cobblestones below. I grabbed her leash and tried to pull her back, but with little success.

  Joanna rapped forcefully on the roof of our carriage and shouted up to the driver, “Stop immediately!”

  Our carriage came to an abrupt halt and we hurriedly alighted onto a slate-covered footpath. Joanna took hold of the leash as Toby Two barked joyfully and led the way into a well-appointed tobacco shop. Behind a splendid display of cigars was a portly man, with thinning, dark hair and a well-trimmed goatee. He quickly straightened his posture at our entrance, his gaze going to the two uniformed constables now posted at the door.

  “May I be of service?” he asked nervously.

  �
��You are the owner, I presume?” Joanna said, bypassing the introductions.

  “I am indeed.”

  “When did your shop open?”

  “Just over an hour ago.”

  “How many customers have stepped through your door since opening?”

  “Two.”

  “Describe them.”

  “The first was Mr. James, an elderly gentleman who favors Dutch Masters—”

  “And the other?” Joanna interrupted.

  “A large, broad-shouldered man who purchased a package of Pall Mall cigarettes.”

  “Was this his first visit to your shop?”

  “To the best of my recollection.”

  “Could he have phoned in for a delivery?”

  The owner shook his head. “We only deliver to known customers with accounts.”

  “Did he linger while in your fine shop?”

  “No, madam. He seemed a bit hurried.”

  “And one final question,” Joanna requested. “Did this particular customer have any unusual features about his face? A scar or blemish perhaps?”

  The owner gave the matter thought before he nodded slowly. “He had a nervous tic that seemed to come and go.”

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Joanna said and, pulling on Toby Two’s leash, dashed out of the shop.

  “We have our man!” Lestrade cried out.

  “We also have a very ominous sign,” Joanna said darkly.

  Our carriages continued on their way, with all eyes now on the residential area we were entering. It appeared every house was white in color, at least two stories high, and shaded by tall trees. A passing dog on a leash barked at our carriage, but Toby Two ignored it, her nose ever to the wind. As we approached the corner, Toby Two let out the loudest of howls and pointed at a two-story, white house well back from the street. Her tail was now fixed and straight as an arrow.

  “Here!” Joanna bellowed out.

  The carriages screeched to a halt and all occupants bolted out, except for Toby Two who was tied to a seat and left behind. Lestrade and Dunn raced across the lawn, weapons drawn and at the ready. Every window in the house was closed, with their drapes tightly drawn.