A
Study In Satin
by Tigger
Irene burst into the sitting room. "Sherla! Erich just came. They've taken Katri. . .I mean, Karl!" Sherla burst from her seat. "WHAT?!? Who? When?" A very white-faced Erich stepped out from behind Irene and, swallowing hard, faced the furious Sherla. "Please, Fraulein, I tried to save her, truly I did, but he was very big and very strong. I could not stop him." Swallowing her rage, Sherla knelt down in front of the boy who was trying his best to hold back tears. She forced a gentle smile to lips that wanted to snarl at the world, and put an even gentler hand on the boy's shoulder. "I am sure you did your best, Erich, and you did even better coming straight to Mother as you did. Now, who took Karl. Did you recognize the man?" "Yes, Fraulein. It was the man who picked up the monkeys and took them away in the sleigh. He took Karl, too. She fought him, Fraulein, truly she did, but he hit her and she went very still." "SHE??" Sherla demanded. "Karl is a boy!" "Please, Ma'am, but I knew she was a girl, because, well, I tried to initiate her into a boy's club here in Brienz - only a boy could do the initiation, Ma'am, out in the snow?" "What type of initiation?" Irene demanded, "And how did that give you the idea Karl was a girl?" "We . . . we write our initial in the snow, Ma'am," Erich choked out, his face bright red, "with our. .with our. . Ma'am, girl's can't do it at all because, . . .well, because girls can't aim." For just a moment, Sherla had to choke back the urge to laugh as a clear vision of Katrina's predicament came to her. "I understand, Erich." "He, um, she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't even try, and I thought she thought she was too good for our club, too high class for something like that. So I tackled him, uh, her and was going to make her agree to do it, when . . ." "When what, dear?" "I, um, felt . . . something she, I mean, something I shouldn't have felt. . . . if she was a boy. You see?" He begged, not wanting to say the horrible thing they had to do in front of these nice ladies. "I see," Sherla replied, again schooling her features and striving for self control. "When did this happen, Erich? When did you discover her secret?" "Two days ago, Fraulein, after she helped me with the monkeys." "When the man came and picked up the chimpanzees?" "Why, yes, Fraulein. It was right after he'd come to get his first batch of them." "I see." Sherla's eyes went very dark. "All right, Erich, Karl and I need your help. Will you?" "Oh, Yes, Ma'am. What can I do?" "I want you to run and find Hans-Peter Kreuger. Tell him. . .no wait, I will give you a note. You are to tell him that I said this will be his only chance because my Mother said we are leaving soon. Can you do that?" "Easy as anything, Ma'am. And this will help Karl?" "As nothing else could, dear. Just a moment while I write the note." ~----------------~ "What was in the note?" Irene asked as she followed a rapidly stripping Sherla into her bed chamber. "A tease. I told him how much I loved the sleigh ride and thought that a moonlight ride would be wonderful fun. Essentially, I accepted, somewhat belatedly, an invitation he sent me. He, being male, will likely interpret it as an apology for a childish slight done him last night and as an attempt to make up to him, but he will come which is all I want. Help me with these under-things, please? I need to be dressed before he arrives." "I am going with you." Irene said firmly as she began unlacing Sherla's lingerie. "And I told him that in my message, since I am a properly brought up young lady and need my chaperone. I am counting on you to prevent him heading for the mountains as soon as he drops me off near Moriarty's lair. Only loosen the corset a bit, Irene. I will need its support for my bosom, but unlace the pantaloons and the shift." "You think to go in after her alone?" Irene was aghast, but she kept working at the various fastenings. "It is the only way that has any chance of success. You know the layout we described as being the type of chalet we sought and both Kreugers said this place was a perfect match. Too much visibility for a large group to have any possibility of a covert approach. If we involved the magistrate, Katrina would be dead before we were ten yards inside the property line." "Why would he take her?!?" Irene fumed. "Why take a boy too young to shave?" "Because Moriarty is afraid she is me. Obviously, he had his people on the lookout for a female masquerading as a male, thinking that I would not acclimate to my new gender and would try to pass for a man. That is what he set his henchman to look for in London and evidently, what he did here. I must assume that he did not completely accept the accounts of my apparent suicide." Finally shed of all her bulkier lingerie, Sherla began pulling on men's long sleeved and long legged white undergarments. Once those were on, she pulled thick, woolen stockings over her lighter silk ones before donning a second set of the long men's under things. Over those, she squirmed into a white quilted shirt and trouser set of the type the local skiers wore. She added white boots and then laid out matching gloves and a matching knit hat alongside her fashionable floor length cloak. "That will disguise my current attire when Hans-Peter arrives to pick me up." "You are very sure he will come?" "Yes," was Sherla's terse response as she knelt on the floor and pulled out a long canvas bag. She placed it on the bed and opened it. From it, she withdrew two revolvers, one of which she handed to Irene, then a long hollow tube, painted white, and a small cigarette-case sized packet. These she laid beside the cloak, hat and gloves before turning her attention back to the open case. She took a sheathed knife and strapped it to her right thigh, before strapping a small derringer, similar to the one she'd given Katrina, to her right wrist beneath the outer shirt's sleeve. What is that?" Irene asked as she fingered the long hollow tube. "A South American dart blowgun. Watson and I had a case where one was used. I found the weapon fascinating and learned to use one after that," Sherla replied without looking up from what she was doing. "It is silent, and when combined with these poison-tipped darts," Sherla held up a small, fletched missile, "instantly paralyzing and eventually deadly." "Deadly? you are going up there prepared to kill?" "Intending to kill, Irene," Sherla looked up with hard and frightening eyes. "Whoever stands between me and Katrina is already dead - they simply have not yet stopped breathing." "Is that truly necessary, Sherla? Must you kill out of hand like that? Aren't there non-lethal alternatives for that weapon that might work as well?" "The key word in that sentence, Irene, is 'might'. We will only get one chance to save her. If we . . . If *I* fail, she will be dead before I could hope to mount another attack." Sherla looked in the mirror and tried to pull on the stocking hat, but her hair kept escaping. "Let me plait that mane of yours, Sherla. You'll never get that hat on as it is now. Perhaps a tight coronet of braids will do the trick." "We don't have time for that, Irene," Sherla told her sharply. "Merely pull it back out of my face and secure it into a single tail down my back. I will wear it inside the outer shirt." Irene could feel the barely controlled tension roiling just beneath that seemingly emotionless surface. She had never seen Sherla in this mood. *She is almost like Sherlock I used to dream of bettering back in the old days - coldly rational and clear visioned - and yet, there is an utter ruthlessness, an uncompromising determination to stop at nothing and give no quarter to save her lover that I have never heard of being associated with the great detective.* Sherla squirmed beneath her fingers. "Too tight?" Irene asked. "No, no. . it's fine. Keep going," Sherla replied, her disinterested tone telling Irene that she must have pulled the hair too tight if she'd broken even the slightest bit through Sherla's concentration. She eased back just a small amount on the tension she was using. *Is this determination and ruthlessness a feminine aspect - something akin to that of a lioness protecting her cubs or a woman fighting for her family? Or is Sherla's ruthlessness more due to the fact that for the first time in her life she is truly in love and that love is in danger of HER life? I wonder what the old Sherlock might have accomplished had he but permitted himself the strength of honest emotions-under-control rather than utterly suppressing them. One thing is certain - after this night's work I will either have both of them, hale and well, or I will be mourning both my almost-daughters for Sherla will never leave without Katrina. God help them both.* ~----------------~ The sleek, four-in-hand sleigh slooshed up to the rear of the hotel precisely as Sherla's note had directed. "Good evening to you, Fraulein Cheryl, Frau Huxley," Hans-Peter greeted as he dismounted from the sleigh. "Are you ladies ready for the ride. of your lives?" the smiling young man asked as he bowed over each lady's extended hand. "Trust me, there is nothing like a fast sleigh through the mountains on a moonlit night." Sherla smiled graciously and then allowed him to hand her up and settled herself on the front seat while Irene was assisted into the back seat.. Boarding himself, Hans-Peter took up the reins. "And where would you like to ride, Fraulein Cheryl?" he asked as he turned to face her - and found himself looking down the barrel of one of Mr. Colt's Peacemaker Revolvers. "Sit very still, Hans-Peter," Sherla ordered in a steady voice, "for I do not wish to hurt you. Mother?" Sherla then called, "Are you ready, as well?" "Yes, dear," Irene replied, her own weapon now at the ready, the barrel cold against the nape of the young man's neck. "I have him covered. Go retrieve your things." Sherla nodded and then hopped down from her seat and disappeared into the shadows. She reappeared moments later carrying her large canvas case. Quickly, she put it into the back of the sleigh beside Irene before rejoining the stunned Hans-Peter in the front seat. "What. . what is this?" he asked, a quaver in his voice. "Listen very carefully. "My brother has been kidnapped. I used your invitation of last night as a means to get you to come, and in a hurry. I'm sorry for using your feelings like that, but I'm telling you that I will do whatever I deem necessary to rescue my brother. If you resist or try to impede me, I will shoot you and drive the sleigh myself. Do *not* consider this a bluff." "Your brother has been kidnapped?" Hans-Peter asked, his voice breaking in his surprise. "Yes he has been, Hans-Peter," Sherla said sharply, "and you know where he is." "I do NOT!" he retorted indignantly. "I would have NOTHING to do with such a crime!" "I know that," Sherla replied, "But you *do* know where he is all the same. That property you and your father told Irene about - the one near Rosenlaui - is where they have taken him." "How can you know that?" He demanded, and then immediately quieted when he felt the cold steel of Irene's pistol nudge him firmly in the back of his neck. "You don't need to know how I have come by that information. In fact, it would be in your best interests to know as little as possible about such things. All you need to do is drive this sleigh and me to that place. Now." "No, Cheryl, Frau Irene, you ladies are most surely distraught and not thinking this through clearly. Let me take you to the magistrate instead. He will gather as many men as are needed and we will go investigate this place for you." "Who is far less capable than you wrongly think I am. No, I must do this alone. I am the only one with any chance at all of getting Kat. . Karl out of there alive. Now, DRIVE, Hans-Peter!" "I don't have to do this. You won't kill me. That would be murder. Besides, you'd be lost inside of an hour." Sherla considered his challenge for several moments before locking her fierce gaze on Hans-Peter. He could not suppress the shudder that shook him - her eyes were like glittering chips of dark ice - and were infinitely colder than anything to be found in the black night sky. With careful precision, her pistol barrel dropped, only to press it's deadly snout between his legs. "This will not be debated. You will do as I say, or suffer consequences far worse than you can imagine." "Herr Kreuger," Irene interjected, "It is MY child who is at risk. I assure you, that should you fail to help us save he. . him, I shall kill you." "All right, all right, I will take you." "I knew you would see it our way. Just one thing, Hans-Peter. Do what you are told, and ONLY what you are told, and you, at least, stand a good chance of surviving this night's work. Unlike those animals who stole my . . . brother." The look of unswerving determination on her face, the remorseless depths of her black eyes, convinced Hans-Peter in a way that words could never match that she was set on her path and would not be swayed from it. Without a word, he flipped the reins and drove them off into the moonlit night. ~-----------------~ The twelve kilometers to Meringen took the strong team about ninety minutes to cover the distance. Very little was said during their headlong charge through the snow-shrouded countryside, but as they approached the small village, Hans-Peter finally spoke, "This place is in the country, in the hilly area several kilometers outside Meringen. It is doubtful that anyone has cleared the trails into that part of the country since the last storm yet. It is very isolated and not very populated - one reason why my father was so pleased to get paying tenants into it during the winter. If the trails are not cleared, the sleigh will founder in the drifts before we've gone half a kilometer." "Trust me, Hans-Peter," Sherla said confidently, "You will find the trails you need well cleared. The kidnappers have already made two trips to Brienz since the storm to pick up items that were being temporarily stored at Herr Loche's warehouse." "If you are sure," he replied, his tone disbelieving. ~---------------~ "Once we round that bend you will be able to see the main buildings if there are any lights on," Hans-Peter said as he brought the team to a halt." "How far to the main compound?" Sherla asked. "Half a kilometer, perhaps a bit more once you round the curve." "All right, this is as far as we go." Sherla hopped off the sleigh and doffed her cloak. She pulled the stocking hat from her pocket and used to replace the bonnet she had worn as part of her "girl-going-for-ride" disguise. Hans-Peter watched in amazement as Sherla gathered her weapons and stored them in a specially designed belt/harness arrangement she buckled tightly about her waist and shoulders. She checked her pistol one last time, ensuring that all chambers had fresh rounds, reloading the cylinder quickly and competently, before holstering the weapon and turning to Irene. "It will likely take at least an hour for me to make a covert approach to the chalet main compound. Have Hans-Peter walk and cool the horses, but have them hitched and ready to move in an hour. I plan to use a fire as a diversion. If you see the fire and don't hear a great deal of shooting, head in at your best speed to pick up the two of us. Have your gun ready to cover our evacuation in the event I was not able to deal with all the guards." "I should go with you," the young man said, taking a step forward. "No, you should not," Sherla said sharply. "You are not trained for this type of activity and will give us away before we could reach the compound, let alone locate Karl." "And you ARE so trained?" he asked derisively. "Yes," was all Sherla said. Then, with a final kiss for Irene's cheek, she turned to face the cleared trail. For several moments, she simply stood there without saying a word. She stamped her feet and rotated her arms, shoulders and waist. She did some deep knee bends and some funny little hops while twisting herself in mid air. One hand flexed over the butt of the pistol while the other unsheathed and then sheathed her knife. Finally she again stood fully erect, and squaring her shoulders, took one last cleansing breath. As she exhaled, her bones seemed to loosen, or soften somehow, as though her body were becoming fluid and amorphous. She began to flow over the road like a drifting white mist, only her rapid disappearance into the night revealing her deceptively-fast pace. In seconds she had left Irene, Hans-Peter, and the safety of the sleigh behind, entering a darker world. "My god, she's . . .she's truly frightening," Hans-Peter whispered. *Not as frightening as she will become if anything has happened to Katrina,* Irene thought grimly. Turning back to Hans-Peter, Irene motioned toward the horses. "I believe Cheryl directed that you were to see that the horses cooled down properly, my young friend," Irene said quietly. "I suggest you see to it so that we are ready when needed."
