bout de papier, Vol. 26, No. 2 (2011) — Fall/Winter 2011 // Automne/Hiver 2011, pp. 45–48
My notebooks for the period between the summer of 1897 and that of 1899 record few cases that greatly taxed the powers of my friend Sherlock Holmes. I spent most of those years asleep. Holmes chafed at the enforced inactivity, indulging in frantic attempts to penetrate the more obscure criminal quarters of our metropolis. (I preserve an image of awakening in my armchair one winter evening to see him framed in the doorway wearing only a tutu, raving in Pashto, his chest covered with square green spots. I have always hoped this was but a hallucination caused by an excess of post-prandial port and candied sprats.)
In addition to two published cases, I do retain records of a few others, including the scandal threatening the royal family in the matter of the inflatable kangaroo, the curious aftermath of Sir Snivels Shuffledump’s renaming, the cannibalization of a certain boys’ choir (arousing indignation and indigestion across the kingdom) and the foiled attempt by Pimlico home rule activists to destroy the Albert Memorial (supported by the Modern Arts Association on aesthetic grounds). While most of these records must remain private, there is one whose publication I am obliged to address.
The case began one March morning in the chambers we shared on Baker Street. Holmes and I were essaying the digestion of Mrs. Hudson’s redoubtable scones. He was working on his celebrated monograph differentiating 47 varieties of zabaglione stains on gutta-percha camisoles, I on the report of an earlier case, in which he had disguised himself as a flatfish in order to expose the development of underwater warships by a leading continental power. I was stumped for a title
A piercing cry rang out from the ground floor, followed by irregular footfalls ascending the stairs. Holmes snatched up the poker. “Quick, Watson, your revolver! From my studies of primitive cultures, I recognize the war-cry of a Momoyama warrior from the Amazon basin. Their tribal assassins wear one grass sandal and one wooden shoe, explaining that peculiar tread. Expect one at the door any minute with a blowpipe to his lips. I shall distract him with the warrior’s response while you disarm him.” The door resounded to a heavy blow. Holmes threw it open, raised the poker over his head and gave out an astonishing yowl.
An astonished man with a tweed suit and a dark moustache stood revealed, his left foot encased in a metal armature covered with wires and springs. Holmes quickly hid the poker. “Or, of course, it could be a middle-class Englishman who stepped into the experimental badger trap I left in the vestibule.”
“Mr. Holmes?” the man enquired in an educated voice. “I need to see you urgently. But first I must remove this infernal device from my boot.” I regarded him with dawning recognition. “If I may presume, sir, I believe that you are H.G. Wells, author of The Time Traveller and other fine tales of scientific adventure?” He replied, “Correct. And you are Mr. Holmes’ celebrated chronicler, John Watson. You and crossed paths at the Strand Magazine Christmas party.”
Soon Wells was ensconced beside the fireplace. “I know you will find this account hard to accept but please bear with me. Dr. Watson referred to my first novel. It was due to this book that I was contacted by actual time travellers, who felt I would be more open to their existence.” Holmes spluttered, “Mr. Wells, I am prepared to accept you as a rational man of science, but you will understand my reluctance to accept your story. The logical paradoxes inherent in time travel virtually preclude its achievement.”
“Two days ago, Mr. Holmes, I would have been in full agreement, but I am forced to change my views. Yesterday a man called on me, giving the name Liebnitz. At first glance, he seemed normal, but little details began to tell. His clothes were cut in ways I had never before seen. He spoke fluent English with a Canadian accent, but used words I had never heard. And he was wearing his watch mounted on a band around his wrist. A very odd thing. But his story was far more amazing.”
“He claimed to come from a century hence. The secret of time travel had been discovered, but was quickly hidden by an agency called the Timekeepers. The potential dangers were simply too great, especially the chaos that could result if people visited the past and changed events. A paradox, like killing one’s own grandparents as babies, so that you could never have been born, could destroy our whole timestream. Even a non-paradoxical change could have untold consequences.”
“But then a warped villain named Birdwhistle developed the time machine on his own. After a few careful forays into the past, generally for financial gain, he sent a time traveller back to January of 1897. The Timekeepers later found that his mission was to assassinate a Croatian engineer named David Schwarz, who was about to launch the first airship. Schwarz’s death on a street in Vienna was ruled a heart attack, but there were rumours… In any event, without his leadership, the airship project failed.”
“Now a certain German Count Zeppelin is working on a better design. History in Liebnitz’s time records that the Count succeeded and that his eponymous airships were used for both military and civilian purposes. But Birdwhistle plans to kill the Count before he can complete his project. Without the Count’s skill and perseverance, it is unlikely that the zeppelin will ever get off the ground.”
Holmes took a deep puff on his pipe. “An unusual story, fantastic yet not without points of interest. But what would this madman’s motive be?” Wells replied, “A good question. Liebnitz said the Timekeepers’ analysis had found no geopolitical or commercial impact likely to benefit Birdwhistle’s criminal enterprises. So they placed a mechanical listening device, which Liebnitz called a bug, in the villain’s headquarters. It was discovered and destroyed in short order, but not before it had revealed Birdwhistle’s motivations.”
“Birdwhistle has rivals within the criminal world. The strongest is a woman named Bertha de Kuhl. In the days from which Liebnitz came, she is apparently in an unassailable position to crush Birdwhistle and well-guarded against all direct attacks, either conventional or via the timestream. He is convinced that the only way to eliminate the threat she poses is by going deeper into the past. He believes that, if he can prevent the dirigible airship from being developed, he can keep de Kuhl’s grandparents from eventually meeting on one, the Hindenburg. He has already eliminated one of the two men in this era capable of designing such a flying machine, and is on his way personally to eliminate the Count, who is in London this week.”
Holmes snorted. “Birdwhistle’s plans seem illogical. There would surely be other opportunities for the grandparents to meet.” “Quite,” said Wells. “Liebnitz’s evaluation was that the man was ‘a world-class nutbar’. But he still needs to be stopped. The contra-historical death of a figure like Zeppelin would change the future in major and possibly catastrophic ways. Hence Liebnitz’s journey to seek our help. He needs local allies because time travel only works for a variable but inevitably short time — a day or so at most — before the traveller is pulled back to his point of origin like a child’s ball at the end of a rubber cord.”
Holmes rubbed his lean jaw thoughtfully. “Just assuming that your story is true, what role is sought for Watson and myself?” Wells pulled two sheets of paper from his pocket and unfolded them. “Birdwhistle is a former bureaucrat and lives by paper reports. He is also paranoid and always disguises or encodes them. This report was recently discovered in London in an envelope addressed to Birdwhistle. It was turned over to your brother Mycroft, whom Liebnitz had brought into the picture.” Mycroft Holmes is Sherlock’s sedentary but powerful elder brother, who carries out carefully unspecified work for Whitehall. “The report is known to provide the alias that Birdwhistle will be using when he arrives to kill the Count.”
1. The Canadiens’ “pocket rocket” 1955— 75; star of “Goodbye Columbus” and “Portnoy’s Complaint”; colonial printer who was the first US and Canadian postmaster; the New Dealer.
2. Top Conservative; she wrote To Kill a Mockingbird; star of Cat Ballou and A Dirty Dozen; he heard it through the grapevine.
3. Won an Oscar for playing Salieri; shot at Ford’s Theater in 1865; Hamilton MP and Ontario Lieutenant Governor; wrote The Rape of the Lock.
4. Sultan of Swat; pioneering anthropologist who wrote The Chrysanthemum and the Sword; general for both sides in the American Revolution; two British historians, one wrote A Study of History.
5. Libertarian US presidential candidate; former Canadian PM; top Reformation leader; US breeder of over 800 new plant species including the spineless cactus.
6. BC First Nations chief and Oscar nominee; the only President never to live in the White House; wrote Rip Van Winkle; Russian-born Tin Pan Alley great.
7. Top Bengali film auteur; blind black singer of “Georgia on my Mind”; Liberian president and Canadian philosopher; Billboard’s 2011 Woman of the Year.
8. Decreed that “all the world should be taxed” according to Saint Luke; Welsh painter attached to Canada’s WWI forces; Cromwellian diplomat who wrote Paradise Lost; deposed by Idi Amin.
9. Friar burned in 1600 for heliocentrism; German-American conductor and Mahler fan; he wrote /vanhoe; he married Zelda and wrote about Gatsby.
10. One-eyed victor at Trafalgar; Mountie opposite Jeanette MacDonald in “Rose Marie”; country music pioneer on TV; the Governator from Graz.
11. Mr. Tambourine Man; he did not go gentle into that good night; US writers who wrote Look Homeward Angel and Bonfire of the Vanities; 18th century Irish rebel.
“As you can see, the report is in the form of a puzzle. On this page, each of I long clues is divided into four parts. Each part refers to a historical or fictional character. The names fit into this chart, with the last name of each character forming the first name of the next character and so on. example that Liebnitz gave me was ROBERT-CLIVE-JAMES-BRUCE-LEE. You will see that the central column of the chart is filled in. The chart boxes with crosses spell out the middle name of the alias — using the first letter of the names that fit in those boxes and reading down.”
“What you are being asked, Mr. Holmes, is to decipher the report and provide Mycroft with the assassin’s alias before it is too late. He has already narrowed the list of possible names to five: Hubert Bogart, Jane Crowe, Rex Ford, Eli Houston and Michael Pollock. The middle name spelled out by the chart will be linked to both the first and last names in the alibi, in the same ways as the name-rows in the chart.”
Holmes perused the list closely. “How typical of Mycroft to leave the work to me, and not even call in person. But the puzzle is intriguing. Some of the suggested names are obvious, but others escape me entirely. Take Liebnitz’s example — one of course recognizes Robert Clive, the conqueror of India, and James Bruce, who discovered the source of the Blue Nile. But who are Clive James and Bruce Lee?”
Wells nodded. “This report was not drafted in our times. It was sent to Birdwhistle in his own era and misplaced by him during his earlier visit to ours. It therefore contains names of people unknown to us, some not yet even born. Liebnitz recognized the problem, however, and will be sending a helper from the future.” Holmes looked up. “How long have we before Birdwhistle makes his attack? And when will this assistant be arriving?” Wells replied, “Respectively at an unknown point during the Count’s schedule tomorrow and in, ah, less than a minute. Here in your chambers.”
Holmes grimaced with irritation, but his doubtless terse reply was swallowed up by the sound of a rising wind, although not a breath stirred in the room. Abruptly there appeared in the middle of our carpet a lean figure in a flowing floor-length gown of semi-transparent scarlet material, red high-heeled shoes, long hair done up with elaborate combs and a red rose between the teeth. Under a shaggy moustache.
“Holmes,” I said sotto voce, “Either a remarkably ugly woman or a man in the most unseemly garment just appeared out of nowhere.” He replied, “I support the latter option, Watson, probably the time travelling helper. The attire is unusual but would not shame a pantomime dame. Or the Guards regiment, really.”
The figure crossed the room. “Mr. Holmes. A real pleasure. My name is Effie and I’m here to help. Sorry about the combs, but time travel involves dancing the tango. It really is timeless. And strenuous. Poor Liebnitz barely made it back and I was next on deck. Seven quedabras with a double corte and here I am.”
“The tango?” I asked. Holmes replied, “A new dance emerging from the Rio Plata delta. More important, look at this closure mechanism.” He applied his magnifying glass to the seam at the apparition’s neckline, which was closed without buttons or ties. “This ridged metal strip is called a zipper. It is made of pure titanium. But zippers of this type will not be perfected until 1914, nor metallic titanium isolated until 1910. This person really is from the future.” Our visitor said, “I always like dealing with smart men. It makes things go so much faster.” Then he (or she) winked. I was appalled. Holmes seemed not to notice. Wells said, “If I understand correctly, your stay here will be very brief, so we should proceed apace.”
Effie scanned the paper and said, “Ok, no big problem. Most of these people are famous where I come from.” Within a creditably short time, she (or he) and Holmes had filled in the chart and one of the Baker Street Irregulars was dispatched with a telegram for Mycroft. We later learned that Birdwhistle had been captured and held until the Count’s departure.
Our visitor relaxed in the wing chair. After a few minutes of stilted conversation, Holmes took me aside. “Watson, I realize that you disapprove of our unexpected helper, but do try not to be quite so aloof. The future is a foreign country; they do things differently there.” After a few minutes mastering the mixed emotions his words aroused, I went over and shook our visitor’s hand. “Excellent work, Miss Effie, you saved the day. Please excuse my stiffness. I am set in ways by definition very old-fashioned to you. But I do have to say that the rose clashes with your shoes.”
Holmes looked up and mused. “Effie, once your agency had the original puzzle, why not simply return it to your time, solve it there and send a messenger back with the answer? Why involve us at all?” Our visitor replied, “Several technical reasons, but one over-riding factor: Watson’s report of the case was published while we were working on the Birdwhistle affair, just a few days ago by my timeline, in a small but influential Canadian magazine. The solution giving his alias won’t appear until the next issue, so we still had to go this route. But it means we knew I came here to help you. Better not to change history if you can help it.”
Effie was beginning to fade out. “One last thing, Dr. Watson. That story you are working, the one about the fish disguise? How about the title, ‘No Plaice like Holmes’?” Then Holmes and I were alone.
Count Zeppelin did go on to perfect the airship, which was launched in July of the following year. Wristwatches have become commonplace since our troops in the trenches found them so much more useful than the old pocket models. Zippers are common too, although not yet in titanium. Holmes has retired to the Sussex Downs. Wells, who went on to great fame, wrote a book in 1908 called The War in the Air, which prophesied a most destructive role for zeppelins. Luckily, in the real war that arrived in 1914, they proved highly vulnerable to incendiary ammunition. That war was bloody enough as it was.
Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes urged me not to publish an account of this case, lest premature knowledge of the future act to change that future. Such a report will apparently be published after my death, however, so I have decided to draft it for my posthumous readership. I am also moved to do so in the hope that, by then, mankind will have realized the dangers of applying modern science to the battlefield and may even have moved to abolish war for the evil that it embodies.
Can you duplicate Holmes’ and Effie’s feat and provide the full three-name alias of the assassin? bout de papier will decide the winner by drawing from a box containing all correct entries received by March 1, 2012. The winner will receive a book autographed by A Aalto. Not necessary for winning, but can you also provide the full five-part answers for each of the I clues as well as the full names of the other four suspects?
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 26, No. 2 (2011) — Fall/Winter 2011 // Automne/Hiver 2011, pp. 45–48. Read the rest of this issue →
