Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

short moment I closed my eyes, examining the reflection burned into my mind: the small prick of candlelight, the table, the man sitting, myself in a nightgown, and a tall, slender figure behind me. I opened my eyes, hoping the behaviour of the man facing me would tell me more about the other.
    ‘We were surprised to learn that Dr Anton Kronberg overpowered Mr Sherlock Holmes and made his escape.’
    My hands grew cold. It finally clicked—the Club. Holmes had given that dubious title to the group of medical doctors who tested deadly bacteria on workhouse inmates. It had taken us months to round them up. Yet we were unable to identify the head of the organisation who had caused so much suffering and death. Ever since my escape to the Downs, I had feared he would find me and take revenge. I eyed the man in front of me, wondering why he talked to me at all and what might be coming before he pulled the trigger.
    ‘We were even more surprised as we found Anton Kronberg—a carpenter in a German village. An old man with a single child—a daughter of exactly your age, Doctor Anna Kronberg.’ He flashed a smile, displaying a row of yellow teeth.
    I made an effort to slow my frantic heart, trying not to think of my father or what might have been done to him. The man behind me seemed calm; his breathing had not changed in the least.
    ‘You do say rather little.’
    ‘You have not asked a single question,’ I croaked.
    No audible reaction from the man behind. The man facing me smiled a thin line and fingered his gun. His eyes were glued to my face, while mine flicked between his and the weapon’s hammer. He repeatedly pulled and released it. Click—click. Click—click.
    ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Will you admit to these accusations?’ Click—click.
    ‘Your accusations must have escaped my notice.’
    The clicking stopped. The man’s eyes flicked sideways and back at me again, as though he wanted to check with the other man, but could not reveal that man’s presence by looking at him directly. Behind me, I heard a faint smack. It made me think of wet lips being pulled apart. He must be smiling. For a second I had the insane thought it was Holmes.
    ‘Do I amuse you?’ asked the man in front of me. Click—click. Click—click. He had both arms placed on his thighs, leisurely holding the weapon between them. The lantern at his feet seemed to illuminate only the triangle of knees, hands, and gun. The light reflecting off the hammer’s silvery tip, polished by repeated toying, stung my eyes.
    ‘No,’ I answered.
    He waited. We both did. And then I made a mistake. ‘What does a man from the military want from me?’ It was only a guess based on the few things I had seen.
    He growled, ‘What do you know?’ before noticing that he, too, had made a mistake.
    ‘Not much. Only that you broke into my cottage to press your beloved gun to my head and tell me things I already know. And there is a man behind me who is very calm, approximately six feet tall and very lean. He is most likely the brain, while you are the brute.’
    There was no time to flinch before his fist hit my temple.

    ~~~

    Whispers penetrated my ears. I heard a groan; it came from inside my chest. My head drummed arrhythmically, throwing blue flashes of light on the inside of my eyelids. I lay flat on my mattress, my hands bound across my stomach. The whispering stopped. I opened my eyes and turned my head. Both men looked at me.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said. The taller of the two pulled his eyebrows up and seemed a little amused.
    ‘For showing your face,’ I explained.
    ‘You do realise that having seen me will likely diminish any chances of your survival?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good. Shall we continue, then? How did you overpower Mr Holmes?’
    My throat tightened. How could I describe it? It was a long story and I would surely not tell the whole truth.
    ‘I kissed him.’
    His eyes widened and he threw his head back, barking a single laugh.
    A second later, he recovered from his emotional outbreak. Turning to the other man he said, ‘Sebastian, would you be so kind as to make us tea?’
    Sebastian left. I heard a match being struck, the hiss of the gas lamp followed by the clonking of earthenware. The hearth was still hot. I used it to get a little warmth into the cottage during chilly autumn nights. In winter, I would have used the fireplace, too. But there wouldn’t be a winter for me here.
    More wood was thrown onto the embers. The tall man