“This is also true,” Ito conceded. “Ambassador Shevich said he plans to inquire directly with England, but Scotland Yard believes you dead. With you here, the only way the English authorities could ascertain the truth would be to dispatch a letter to the legation in Japan.”
The detective smiled. “The legation, however, is entirely oblivious to the situation. There would be considerable confusion, and all correspondence would be at cross purposes. Until such matters are resolved, Russian hands will be tied and I shall be at liberty to travel freely.”
“But after a month my culpability in the matter will still come into question.”
“Fear not,” Sherlock said calmly, his face serene. “You must only insist that I told you the reports were mistaken, and that you had no reason to doubt me. Say that I insisted there was no better proof of what I said than that I arrived by ferry.”
“But after that you will be arrested! The authorities will think you acted alone in your deception.”
“What is the problem in that?”
“The problem! Do you truly think I could stand by silently and watch as you are treated as a criminal?”
“But I have committed a crime,” Sherlock murmured. He stood still and stared off into space. “I cannot escape suspicion in Moriarty’s death. Now that I have thought things over at length, I must admit to myself I did have murderous intent when I went to face him. It was perhaps my only recourse, but still one I arrived at in disregard of the law. The fact that I was prepared to die with Moriarty does not pardon my crime.”
“Then you accept guilt?”
“There is no telling how things will play out. But I am inclined to surrender myself to the courts. On a previous case I chose to let the man who stole the Blue Carbuncle go free. That responsibility, too, still follows me.”
Ito looked shocked. “Why, you are serious. But in his letter, your brother wrote that some of Moriarty’s men still remain. And what of the younger Moriarty’s efforts against you? If you allow for things to be decided at trial you may find yourself in prison.”
“Then I shall find myself in prison. Had I died I should have been equally helpless. It is a stroke of providence, perhaps, that I have even this opportunity to observe which direction the winds of judgment blow.”
Ito groaned involuntarily. “Mr. Holmes, are you sure your current resignation is wise?”
“My original plan was undermined the moment that Moriarty’s man concealed himself above the Reichenbach cliffs. Surrendering to justice and serving my penance should allow me to return to society an honorable man. Should Moriarty’s gang remain at large, I could then return to confront and confound them.”
“I am surprised at your change of heart, considering that you endured four months at sea to come here.”
“I was weak.” A shadow crossed the detective’s face. “I thought such concerns could wait until my survival was assured. Thanks to you, I have found safety at last in Japan. My gratitude knows no bounds. But here in this great land, in the lap of Mt Fuji, all I do is survive. A mere conduit to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”
“There is no telling what the future will bring, Mr. Holmes. You should await your opportunity. It is how I have managed things.”
“Our situations differ. I am a detective by profession. So long as there is life in me I cannot bear to allow my brain to go to waste. Your circumstances must be dire, seeing that they demand the presence of the full Privy Council, seeing as the pressure of drafting a constitution has passed. I imagine the Diet and the courts are likewise in a state of panic. If there is a case to be solved between Russia and Japan, pray allow my intellect to be of service in the matter.”
“It’s true… Japan’s position these four months has been precarious,” Ito offered hesitantly. “Our relations with Russia are strained, and the future of the nation is in peril. If we do not handle things carefully now, there may be war.”
“I was under the impression that Japan and Russia enjoyed mostly friendly terms. When did such a drastic change occur?”
“It is a matter of government at the highest levels. I am sorry, but I simply cannot consult with a private detective on such—”
“You deny me the opportunity to repay your kindness?” Sherlock broke in forcefully.
“Repay my kindness?” Ito looked as though he’d never heard of such a phrase. “What need is there for you to repay my kindness? I told you yesterday, it is I who am repaying my own debt to England.”
“It may seem trifling to you, but I owe you my life. Those ruffians in Cheapside would not have treated me kindly, child that I was or not. There has not been a day since that I have forgotten your bravery at that time.”
Sherlock’s voice lingered in the stillness that followed, resounding in Ito’s ears.
To the chairman, his actions that long-ago day in Cheapside had been of small import. Only a few short years earlier his life had been a vicious existence of kill or be killed. But for a ten-year-old boy living in London the incidents of that day must have left a considerably more vivid impression: vivid enough to permanently alter his life.
Ito sighed. “I appreciate your sentiments, but this is not some petty quarrel between the good people of London…”
“I beg you not to underestimate my profession. Two years prior a very important bundle of documents went missing that were definitive to the Britain-Italy relationship. It was I who recovered them.”
“So you fought Russian and French spies?”
“No. But there was a risk that the documents would be sold into the hands of one of those two countries. So you see, I am not one to balk simply because matters of a national scale are involved.”
“I have no doubt of that.” Ito’s voice was sure, and he realized he was beginning to feel a sense of relief. The truth was that he had wished for someone to rely on in these matters. “There is one thing I would like to ask, however, Mr. Holmes.”
“I am at your full disposal.”
“Since that tussle earlier with Ambassador Shevich, you suddenly seem in much better cheer. I might even think that the prospect of a case has given you a new sense of purpose and gratification. Are you honestly motivated by repaying some debt to me, or do you simply wish to work?”
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and sniffed in an over-affected manner. “Perhaps both,” he snapped. “But if you insist on keeping me uninvolved, Chairman, perhaps I shall inquire if Mrs. Ito has any matters that require consultation.”
“What case could my wife possibly have that would?”
“I’m sure she would be interested in better knowing your whereabouts. Perhaps I shall visit the geisha quarters this afternoon and inspect the soil, so that I may tell her if I find any on your shoes.”
“Are you threatening me? I was already inclined to accept your help!”
“Quite so then!” Sherlock closed the discussion. He moved to the back of the room and pulled out one of the dining chairs that had been stacked to the side. He sat down. Leaning forward, he laced his fingers into a steeple. “Now then. What has happened to Tsarevich Nicholas?”
Ito walked over to a rack of shelves placed against the wall. “This space is also used as a reception area for envoys from other countries. Newspapers are provided at breakfast. The English ones should be somewhere in here.”
They had archived past newspapers. Ito searched through the stack for May, pulling out a small section. He unfolded a paper and handed it over. “Your journey must have been confined, indeed. The entire world has already heard reports of the incident.”