Brought to you by Novel 2 Ebook. Click to visit our website.
“So,” Holms mused, “do they know that he is not available and wish to exploit it, or are they merely innocents extending a genuine invitation?”
“That's the problem exactly. It’s not as if I can send on a sub.”
“Couldn't you say he was ill?” I asked. “I'm willing to sign a doctor's line.”
“If he's too ill for a charity function, he's too ill to play, and it'll aw be in the papers. This could be a very clever game Liverpool are playing. You must find him, Holms.”
Holms stroked his chin and considered the situation. “My instinct tells me that Liverpool are not responsible. There may be bitter rivalry between the two sides, yet they cannot hope to hold him indefinitely. And when he was released he would no doubt relate the tale of his misadventure.”
“Aye, he'd blab. And the tabloids would eat it up.”
“I have had a report,” Holms commented, “that Henderson has been seen in the company of an older woman.”
Alexander gave a groan of relief. “Well, at least he's no' tied up in a basement somewhere. But why doesn't he phone me. If he's got problems, we've got aw sorts o' personal counsellors here.”
“Have you ever seen him with an older woman?” Holms asked.
“Naw, just wi' his WAG, Cynthia.”
“It must be the Spanish,” I insisted, “They'd have no qualms about holding Henderson forever.”
“Perhaps. It is an avenue we shall not fail to explore. We have work to do tonight, Wilson. I shall report to you tomorrow, Mr Alexander.”
Holms was as good as his word and that very night we made our way to Belgravia where the Spanish Embassy was located. I had worried that our house-breaking skills, hones in the Victorian era, would be thwarted by modern technology, but the security measures were by-passed with ease by my talented friend and we were soon within the very bowels of the building. In one of the many large offices, without light, we shuffled on our knees, searching for a clue to the mystery.
Thoughts of our previous escapades flooded back to me and I could not help but exclaim, “I love a good bit of breaking and entering.”
“Ssshh!” Holms warned, a trifle unnecessarily I thought, as I’d barely whispered.
“Do you really think they would hold Henderson here?” I asked, “It seems far too obvious.”
“Where else could they hold him?” Holms replied by way of explanation. “The Spanish Consulate is sovereign Spanish soil and cannot be inspected by the authorities.”
My stomach grumbled alarmingly and I mumbled, “Well, I hope they've left some tapas lying about, I'm starving. An opened bottle of Rioja would be nice too.”
“I thought Spanish wine made you sick.”
“Not if it's free. What exactly are we looking for? There's no sign of Henderson.”