The Fall by Annelie Wendeberg Read Free Book Online Page A

from me.’
    ‘I hid from the police and from the man who rejected me. I felt unable to live in London with Sherlock Holmes all over the papers and the Yard searching for Anton Kronberg. Now tell me, how could I have possibly known you even existed?’  
    I was amazed at how easily I could throw such private matters at him. But it served the lie neatly.
    ‘So you ask me to trust you?’ His voice was sharp with irony.
    ‘I don’t know. What does trust mean, anyway? You trust I am a skilled enough bacteriologist to control the plague for you. I wished you wouldn’t. At the same time you don’t trust me to work for you of my own free will, which ultimately leads you to take drastic measures. But holding my father and myself hostage only damages a fruitful cooperation.’
    He considered that and answered, ‘He shall write a letter to you. I do hope he can write?’
    I noticed he used one issue to avoid the other. The seed of doubt had been planted. ‘I want to see him,’ I said softly.
    ‘Impossible!’
    ‘How am I to know you have not made him write a letter before you killed him?’
    ‘Enough!’ he barked, slamming a fist on the desk. ‘You write a letter to your father, ask him questions that I could not have foreseen. He will answer you and you will know that he is alive.’
    ‘You have someone who speaks German,’ I said. Moriarty nodded once.
    I gestured agreement and the end of this discussion, thinking how interesting it was that he had made an effort. Finding someone whom he can trust, and who is able to communicate with the hostage, could not have been easy. I had expected that he would engage an interpreter once my first letter was written. After all, neither of his prisoners could be allowed to communicate without interception. That he already had someone stunned me.
    Moriarty placed both hands on the desk and gazed at them for a moment before pushing himself up. He folded them behind his back and started pacing the room.
    ‘Very well then. Needless to say that whatever we discuss here is not to leave this room.’ He threw me a sideways glance.
    ‘Naturally.’
    ‘Britain is developing a motorised war car — a machine-driven carriage. It is bulletproof and its caterpillar tracks enable it to run on any ground, no matter how muddy and irregular. It has three main disadvantages, though: it is exceedingly expensive, transporting it is bothersome, and it is very hard to manoeuvre. Another weapon of great interest is gas. You have probably heard of the 1874 Brussels Convention on the Law and Customs of War prohibiting the use of poison bullets. And this is where it gets rather amusing.’ He held up his index finger. ‘France, Germany, and Britain are actively involved in the development of xylyl bromide grenades.’ He noticed my slightly clueless expression. ‘Tear-gas,’ he explained.

    Britain’s motorised war car, 1902. (4)

    ‘The art of war is changing, Dr Kronberg. Where men slaughtered men with swords and bayonets, countless more will be killed with weapons of yet unimaginably broad impact. Gas will crawl over battlefields to bring terror to man and beast. The Kaiser has been aiming at conflict for months now, he might even be pushing for war. We need to be prepared, or we will be overrun.’
    For a second I had the ridiculous vision of children playing war in the slums, where the one with the biggest stick or the burliest friend was king. ‘I see,’ I said, leaning back in the chair and staring at the ceiling. The ensuing silence felt heavy; he neither moved nor spoke. I pictured him staring at me, unsure whether I was contemplating the discussion or ignoring him.
    ‘I think you are looking at the problem from the wrong angle,’ I said, focusing back on him. ‘You see how big the threat is and naturally want your threat to be even bigger. The most terrible weapon would certainly be the bubonic plague, so this is what you choose. However, I believe we must select what is most