It was rather early for visitors, I remember, but I put it aside, noting that my friend tended to stray from the norm in most things, time of day included. When he asked me to accompany him on one of the first vacations he had ever set out on, I agreed instantly, thinking the break would do us both good. However, China, in my mind, had not been high on my list of great vacation spots. But I suppose that in the mind of Sherlock Holmes, if it was a stretch from the norm, it was good.
This situation, too, was a stretch from the norm. Seated in the armchair near the hotel door was a very large, powerful looking man. He wore respectable clothing and had the air of authority about him. I assumed he was from the military until my friend put it otherwise. I was still too tired to wonder why someone of the military would be in our hotel room.
“Watson!” Sherlock Holmes greeted me from his seat, directly across from the big man, “Good morning to you! Please take a seat.” He motioned to a third chair, seated across the room at a type of desk commonly found in hotel rooms. I took it and set it next to my friend, peering curiously at the Chinese, who nodded politely at me.
“I am sorry to bother you all so early,” the Chinese spoke, “I heard you were on vacation.”
“It was getting a bit boring, I admit,” Holmes shrugged, to my surprise. There had been plenty to do in China…but obviously nothing interesting enough for the genius that was my friend.
“However, Dr. Watson, I daresay the boredom has come to an end! This gentleman here is from the Beijing police. He is called Mr. Lin Wenzu.”
“Dr. Watson,” Lin nodded in acknowledgement.
“Sir,” I replied, still seeking answers.
“Mr. Wenzu has come here,” Holmes began again, and I detected some excitement in his voice, “To ask for our assistance in a very sticky affair. Perhaps you should explain it, Mr. Wenzu? I should like to hear the story again, anyway.”
“Lin is fine,” the Chinese replied as he shifted his bulk in the chair. “I begin by asking you of a very dangerous criminal. Does the name ‘Jakara’ ring any bells?”
I felt smart for a change, having some prior knowledge of the man in question. “Jakara,” I answered, “is a killer who began his career in America, then took it overseas. However, no one has heard from him in the longest time.”
“Indeed,” Lin smiled without humor, “Until now, if we are correct in assuming Jakara is our culprit.” The Chinese detective removed several photographs from his pocket, instantly catching my friend’s interest. “If you are familiar with Jakara, you know that he is not suspected as a participant in any terrorist operations, and that he is simply a chronic killer. You may also know of his calling cards.” Lin Wenzu handed the photographs to Sherlock Holmes, who snatched them greedily and began to look them over.
“Indeed,” my friend nodded, “The killer calling himself Jakara left images of animals at the scenes of his crimes. He would have been my suspect too, Mr. Lin Wenzu. But what can you tell me about the numbers or the colors?” At my curious look, Sherlock handed me the photos and I saw for myself. There were eight pictures, each bearing a date on the back. The earliest photo displayed a red monkey carved in cement with “1/9” carved in the center. Next in chronological order was a orange monkey bearing “2/9”. The numbers continued to go up in this manner, with the respectable colors yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple, and white. The last recorded number was 8/9, which I took to mean “eight of nine”. My friend seemed to think the same thing.
“Are you thinking what we did, sir?” asked Lin.
“I believe so,” my friend replied, “Jakara, if it is him we’re after, planned on nine kills. So far, he has committed eight of them. That leaves one.”
“And after that…?” I wondered aloud.
“He disappears,” Holmes finished, “He’s done it before.”
“We must not let that happen!” Wenzu banged his fist on the arm of the chair, startling me. “He has shamed our country’s police forces and eluded our every effort.”
There was quiet for a while. Then, in a musing tone, Sherlock broke the silence. “Perhaps, my good sir, you are trying too hard.”
“Excuse me…?” the confused Chinese queried.
“Let’s go where I’m sure you’ve gone.” My friend sat upright in his chair, using his brain to the fullest now. “I’m going to go by the assumption that Jakara is our man. This creep likes to leave clues to the police. It’s all somewhat of a game to him.”
“Some game,” Lin snorted.
“The eight victims,” Holmes asked, “Was there anything that might have linked them to each other or Jakara?”
“Yes,” Wenzu nodded tiredly, “We have indeed been there. And no, Mr. Holmes, the eight unfortunates seem to be very randomly chosen.”
“Vintage Jakara,” my friend said with a trace of vehemence in his voice. “How about the locations?”
Lin Wenzu rattled off a list of Chinese cities. Apparently, our culprit had a lot of travel money, since the locations seemed random as well.
“I assure you, though the situations seem perfectly random,” my friend mused, curling his fingers around his chin in a thoughtful gesture, “I have a gut feeling that there is some method to the madness.” He stared once more at the monkeys. “Mr. Wenzu, I thank you for bringing this to my attention. It shall prove to be a most interesting case. However, I believe I shall have to get back to you. Give me, oh say, two hours? Or better yet, simply return after lunch. I should have something by then.”
“I…I suppose, Mr. Holmes,” said a somewhat impatient Lin Wenzu. He nodded to us both and wriggled out of the chair. “Sorry once again for disturbing you all at this hour.” He was gone.
“What do you make of it?” I said quickly, perhaps too quickly.
“Patience, Watson, patience…” Holmes flipped through the photographs Wenzu had left behind. “I should wish to be alone for a while. I wouldn’t mind you sitting there silent as usual, though this is indeed a vacation, so you should enjoy it in your way. You too shall come here after lunch. Is that agreeable?”
“I suppose,” I sighed. Then, as an afterthought, “Is there anything I can get you that would be of any assistance?”
“Travel guides and entertainment brochures for all of China.”
“I actually know of one.”
“Dear me,” my friend recoiled, “I was jesting at first, but if you know of one…?”
I fetched it for him, having seen one at a nearby gift shop. My friend did indeed take up the full two hours, and then some, and though I was supposed to be enjoying myself, my curiosity was once more getting the better of me. Finally, after a rather decent lunch, I returned to the hotel and met Lin Wenzu as he exited his vehicle. The large man accompanied me to Holmes’s room, where he greeted us enthusiastically.
“Come in, come in!” he gushed as he ushered us through the door, “I have a potential answer for you, Mr. Wenzu! And it was so simple, so devilishly simple!”
“Well, do tell!” smiled the Chinese detective as he settled his great frame into a seat once more. I myself took a seat and Sherlock did the same, after fetching Wenzu’s pictures.
“You were indeed trying too hard, my good sir. I was too, for a while. My original intent was to look up the cities in which the murders took place, but that proved fruitless. Then it was off to the monkeys. Aside from simply alerting us that nine kills would be made, it seemed like they were supposed to tell something else, else they would not have been colored, unless Jakara simply wanted to play with our minds.”
“That was our conclusion,” Wenzu nodded.
“But I daresay I found a more enthusiastic one!” my friend laughed aloud as he spread out a map of China and planted his finger on the dot that represented the city of Chongquing. “This is where Jakara will carve his ninth monkey, provided we don’t stop him first!”
“How…how do you know this?” Lin asked incredulously.
“Like I said, it was very simple, very obvious.” Sherlock frowned. “I’m so used to mind boggling mysteries and hidden clues that I had almost forgotten to look for the obvious ones. Almost.” He snickered slightly and motioned to the photographs. “Nine monkeys were to be carved, each in a different city. But there had to be some method, Jakara always has a method. So, why monkeys? Well, as a tourist, I can say instantly that monkeys are a common sight in China, whether they be in the wild or in the media. Next, how would Jakara choose the cities? That eluded me until I saw an ad in this travel catalog. You know what it was for? A tavern in Dalian called the Indigo Monkey.”
“Dalian…!” Wenzu practically choked. “That was where we found the indigo monkey carving!”
“So,” said my energetic friend, “I pressed on looking for these kinds of links! Indeed, for each monkey color, there was a location in town that had something to do with that colored monkey. Now, the colors each came from the general color spectrum. I mean, of course, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple, which together equal white, the opposite of which is black, the final color, and the signature color of Jakara!”
“By god!” Wenzu slapped his knee in exasperation.
“Believe it or not,” Holmes had to frown, “All these monkey locations had to do with liquor, whether it be bars, wine houses, et cetera. There is but one liquor location in China bearing the name ‘Black Monkey’ that is not in one of the previous eight cities. It is within the city of Chongquing.”
“We have him!” Wenzu sprang from his chair, in a manner faster than I would have thought possible for a man of his size. “I commend you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes! The killer Jakara will be in Chongquing…we’ll do anything to get him, I mean that!”
“I suggest you go now,” Holmes suggested. “Time waits for no man, especially not Jakara. I should be most satisfied to know that the streets are safe from his insane wrath.”
“Come with us?” Lin offered, “I’m sure you would be most satisfied to know the fruits of your labor as soon as possible.”
“If it would not be a bother to you,” my friend replied energetically, standing, “We will gladly accompany you. Right, Watson?”
I could manage a pitiful nod, for the name Jakara did indeed strike a bit of fear into my heart, and to meet him face-to-face was not high on my to-do list. However, I preferred to stay with Sherlock, and sometimes that took me into dangerous turfs.
“Then let us go,” the Chinese said as he led the way out the door. I followed my excited friend downstairs and to Wenzu’s vehicle, which was big enough for the three of us.
______________________________________________________________________________
Chongquing, China, wasn’t exactly right next door to Shanghai, so we had to charter a small plane. The Chongquing police were warned of our trip and ordered to meet us at the landing field where our plan would be discussed. It happened this way, and Sherlock Homes, with my tired self dragging behind, sat down with the Chongquing captain to discuss strategy.
“This is Sherlock Holmes,” Lin Wenzu said in his native tongue to the Chongquing policeman. Then, reverting to English, “We all speak a common language, so let us continue to do so from this point.”
“Agreed,” said the captain with a nod.
“Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, this is Deng Miopan, the captain of this city’s police force.” Wenzu quieted after this.
“A pleasure, Mr. Holmes,” Deng smiled and shook our hands, “And Dr. Watson. I heard you were instrumental in the tracking of our killer, Jakara.”
“We assume he’s Jakara,” Sherlock agreed, and they all took a seat. We were in the police headquarters building of Chongquing, which wasn’t much different than the American ones, and all together in Deng Miopan’s office.
“The Black Monkey tavern has been under surveillance since Mr. Wenzu’s call,” Deng said, wasting no time getting down to business. “It would help if we knew what we were looking for, though.”
“I don’t know that the Black Monkey itself is of any importance,” said my friend in a dismissive tone. “The primate bars were just clues as to cities, not sites. If you’ll note, no killings were committed near a bar, at least not one of our primate ones.”
Deng sighed. Holmes had said exactly what he’d dreaded. “So we must patrol the entire city then? I’m sure you know, it’s not a small city. Not in the least.”
“I understand,” Holmes said quietly, obviously in thought.
“There were no similarities in kill sites,” Lin offered.
“What about patterns?” It was the first time I had spoken, and I felt rather odd stating something that obvious. However, the other three men seemed a bit taken aback.
“Watson, you devil…” Holmes breathed. I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“A park, an office, an alley, a park…” Lin rattled on, reading from memory.
“Park repeats,” Holmes observed, “A few times. And if you’ll notice, it is logical for it to be the last one as well.”
“All park murders were committed in large parks,” Wenzu offered once more.
“How large?” Sherlock was on to something.
“What do you mean?” Wenzu replied.
“Were there any larger around?” This seemed critical to my friend.
“No…” As soon as Lin said it, everyone else in the room, including myself, understood.
“The largest parks in the city!” Deng Miopan declared, “Ours is nearby, a public sanctuary named after one of Mao’s lieutenants!”
“Now, when?” I asked, “We can’t just sit there waiting for a kill that will happen next week.”
“Conveniently, it will be tonight.” My friend was very assertive, and we all looked at him with the same curious expression. “Again, it’s obvious,” he clarified, “I’m surprised you didn’t realize it. Each kill happened within a week of each other. After tonight, eight days will have passed since the last monkey was carved. Jakara wouldn’t dare disrupt his careful little puzzle by missing a date.”
“Let us set up an ambush, then,” Deng produced a map of the park.
______________________________________________________________________________
Two hours later, everything and everyone was in place. Night was falling slowly yet surely and nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Sherlock Holmes, Lin Wenzu, Deng Miopan, his troops, and myself were concealed in the foliage around the park. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours, and just as we were wondering if it would ever happen, it did.
Holmes and I heard it probably at the same time. A soft, scraping sound was coming from the distance. I saw my friend, the nearest member of our ragtag group, concentrating hard to figure out what it was. It might have been a squirrel or a cat scratching its claws, or something else entirely, but at that moment, only one thing seemed possible, and it was that someone was carving something in the pavement. Carving! Nine monkeys would be carved and the killer Jakara would vanish in victory. Feeling sick, I began to lose my footing, and at the same time fell out of my cover.
I saw him and he saw me. “Jakara” was about a hundred yards away, knife in hand and machine pistol at his side. My God, a machine pistol! He really was a brutal man, and, I realized with an ugly dread, that he was probably a very efficient killer. The enemy was a tall, thin man dressed in ratty clothing and, in contrast, a fine, shining black trench coat. I saw him smile and reach for his gun, calmly, as if it all had been planned. And, it had been! It was the only explanation! Jakara wanted to be caught. He had set it up so that if someone cracked his code, they would die, and he would probably be taken in the process, but he would still have his victory. The pre-carved ninth monkey would have as much meaning as the other eight.
It was not to be, it seemed. Flashes from behind Jakara prompted the killer to spin on his heel, raising his machine pistol and firing it into the blackness, all in one fluid motion. The result was the appearance of Lin Wenzu’s large frame charging out, followed by Deng Miopan and several soldiers, all of whom were closer than I expected. Finally finding my service revolver, which Lin had given to me before the operation began, I ripped it out of my pocket and returned my attention to Jakara, just in time to see Lin Wenzu go down, Jakara reeling from his gun’s recoil. Infuriated, I raised my weapon to kill, but suddenly a body was upon me, wrestling me to the ground.
“Watson! Watson!” Sherlock Holmes yelled, “They’ve got him! It’s me! Stop fighting!”
I calmed myself, looking up to see that indeed soldiers were surrounding a subdued Jakara. Wenzu did not appear to be hurt, either. It surprised me. Missing Lin Wenzu was indeed like missing the broad side of a barn. Standing, with my friend’s help, I dropped the gun, trembling slightly. I had almost killed a man! Killing was not my duty, killing was not my job, no matter what the victim was, in this case a killer himself. I was a doctor…I healed, not hurt.
Holmes quietly escorted me to a car. Though we had won the battle, I felt that I had lost some inner conflict. It was, I can safely say, one of the worst days of my life.