“Not the Laskar, surely,” Ito murmured.
“Likely not.” Kanevsky nodded. “Ambassador Shevich already wired Russia. He also contacted the captain of the Laskar. Everyone on board has been directed to remain on standby, and to do nothing prematurely. Naturally that includes Tsarevich Nicholas. All of the sailors on land who have any diving experience are being mobilized to search for and remove the explosives.”
Sherlock held up a hand. “No, ask the Russians to stand down. The Japanese police and fishermen are already on their way.”
“Stand down?” A look of irritation appeared on Kanevsky’s face. “Those are our ships out there, and it is our crown prince being targeted. It is the Japanese who should stand down.”
“These are Japanese waters,” Ito snapped back. “In fact, the boats are still in harbor. Police jurisdiction applies.”
Kanevsky ground his teeth. “And what will Japan say if the explosives are detonated first?”
Sherlock replied, “It is less a matter of whose responsibility it is now, as it is of danger. Chekhov is a portly man with red hair—it will be obvious if he attempts to conceal himself among the Japanese soldiers. Denikin, however, is another story. He could get close to the explosives by pretending to be part of the search party, and then pull the fuses in an act of suicide.”
“You ask us to stand here biting our nails as we watch from shore?”
“That is precisely what I ask. Any other course would be pointless. You must rely on the industriousness and cleverness of the Japanese now.”
“Impossible! As an Imperial Russian military officer, I will not stand idly by while our Tsarevich is in danger—”
Before he could finish, however, a flash like lightning lit up the surrounding sky. A concussive tremor shook the ground. A low roar echoed overhead, followed by a sharp blast of wind.
Sherlock peered into the wind, straining to see. What he beheld took his breath away. Of the three ships moored alongside the pier, the rearmost had sprouted flames. A moment later, a great column of water shot into the air. The ship tilted dangerously to the side before listing toward the pier. The men onboard were thrown overboard like ants. Unable to resist its own weight, the ship began to slither beneath the water’s surface.
Kanevsky clutched his head. “No! The Zaur!”
The Zaur ? Sherlock had been almost sure it was the Arsen moored in that position. He hardly had time to think that before the aft end of the ship behind the Zaur suddenly lurched into the air like a toy. It was the Yakov. Soon the ship was enveloped in black smoke, and the bow tipped precariously up. The back of the ship was sinking. The mast broke off and collapsed into the sea. The water’s surface churned with frothy waves.
Ito’s eyes widened. “What is happening?”
Sherlock watched the disaster unfold with bated breath. He had a bad feeling. He’d discovered that a suction plate had been smuggled in through the hollowed-out book, but there was no guarantee that had been the only one. “It did seem like too much of a coincidence that he had changed the waterproof casing today, when it only needs to be every two to three days,” he muttered. “It might be a daily task… because explosives have been placed on eight ships—all of the ships except the Laskar.”
“Eight?” shouted Kanevsky. “But why—”
Another roar, like thunder, swept the hill. Then a column of water shot up next to the Kondrat, also moored at the pier. The ship split in two down its middle, and the halves began sinking separately. Sailors could be seen bobbing on the surface, their heads barely above water, waving their arms desperately in the air.
Sonoda leaned over the balustrade and began shouting in Japanese toward the shore. He was telling them to launch a rescue.
The policemen on the beach leapt into action, joined by the fishermen. One by one small ships began pushing off from the shore, headed for the island pier.
“Police Chief Sonoda, keep your men away from the ships that are still whole,” Sherlock cried. “There could be more explosions.”
Sonoda nodded. He turned back toward the shore and shouted frantically in Japanese.
Ito glanced at him. “You think the explosives are only on eight ships? Won’t they target the Laskar, if that is the ship Tsarevich Nicholas is on?”
“Chekhov and Denikin must also be aboard one of the ships, and that is the one that will not sink. It is the Laskar.”
“But then Tsarevich Nicholas will be safe.”
“Once the other eight ships sink, the last ship will also appear to be in danger. Naturally they will evacuate. The Tsarevich will board a lifeboat. That is when the attempt will be made on his life.”
“Ridiculous,” Kanevsky objected. “Someone would notice at once if anything so large as an explosive were attached to the bottom of a lifeboat. Besides, how would they know which boat His Highness would board?”
“Try to be a little more imaginative, Lieutenant Colonel!” Sherlock chided. “Why would they need to use explosives once they were aboard a lifeboat? They will be alone and isolated upon the water, with few men to contend with. There would be nothing to stop an assassin from taking Nicholas’ life.”
Ito squinted. “An assassin on the boat? It would have to be someone very close to the Tsarevich. Surely not Chekhov and some unknown young man.”
Sherlock was growing impatient at having to explain himself. “Ito,” he said, speaking very quickly, “perhaps you have forgotten. Chekhov and Anna Luzhkova were the ones who told us that Chekhov was Grand Duke George’s attendant, and not close to Nicholas. Don’t you see? That was all a lie. The members of the Russian legation are no more aware of the true arrangements aboard the warships than we are. We must assume that Chekhov is Nicholas’ aide.”
A look of shock crossed Kanevsky’s face. “You think that red-headed hog has earned the Tsarevich’s trust?”
“And Denikin as well,” Sherlock said. “I never suggested that the Laskar would be sunk. Sinking the Laskar would offer no guarantee of Nicholas’ death. In addition to the destruction of the fleet, he will be assassinated while trying to escape. That will necessitate an invasion on Russia’s part.”
Another thunderous roar, and another column of water shot into the air. It was the Kesar, which had anchored in front of the Laskar. She, too, began to sink. The desperate screams of the sailors reached the outlook.
Kanevsky’s face flushed red. “Those Okhrana traitors will pay for this.”
A sailor rushed toward them. He reported something to Kanevsky, in Russian. Kanevsky nodded and turned toward the detective. “A small steamboat is almost ready. We will be close if the Laskar lets down a lifeboat.”
“I will go with you,” Sherlock said.
“I will tell the guards at the gate. Be at wharf two in ten minutes.” Kanevsky turned away and hurried down the narrow path with a group of sailors.
“Mr. Holmes,” Ito said. “I will go as well.”
That was unthinkable. Sherlock stared. “You can’t. Japan cannot afford to lose you.”
“But we have come this far together.”
“Your courage, enterprise, and authority are not required at this juncture. We are only going to trade a few measly blows with an assassin upon a boat.”
“Precisely what I was hoping for. I am a former Choshu retainer. When someone makes an attempt on my life, I must repay them in kind.”