Pirate King (Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes Series #11)

by Laurie R. King Narrated by Jenny Sterlin

Overview

New York Times best-selling author Laurie R. King's books have received high praise from critics and have earned the Edgar, Creasey, Wolfe, Lambda, and Macavity awards. As Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes embark on their 11th adventure together, they find themselves immersed in the world of silent filmmaking. Here, the pirates are real-and unlike the shooting done with a camera, this sort can be deadly.

Editorial Reviews

Yvonne Zipp

The plot is light on both deduction and Holmes, but it's pretty charming nonetheless.
—The Washington Post

Publishers Weekly

In a foreword, King, to her credit, acknowledges the implausibility of her 11th Mary Russell novel (after The God of the Hive) by having her heroine declare, "I fear that the credulity of many readers will be stretched to the breaking point by the case's intricate and, shall we say, colourful complexity of events." If anything, this is an understatement. In the fall of 1924, Sherlock Holmes, Mary's husband, uses the threat of an impending visit from his brother, Mycroft, with whom she's at odds, to persuade Mary to travel to Lisbon, where she's ostensibly to serve as a production assistant for "a film about a film about The Pirates of Penzance." In fact, she's on covert assignment for the British government to investigate the studio behind the new film, whose releases appear to coincide with an upsurge in criminal activity. Sherlockians must wait more than half the book for Holmes to put in a cameo in this action-heavy, deduction-light installment. (Sept.)

From the Publisher

Brilliant . . . [This] tangled web includes some very high comedy from Gilbert and Sullivan, pirates, and early moviemaking.”—Booklist (starred review)
 
“Fast-paced and funny.”—St. Louis Post-Dispatch
 
LAURIE R. KING’S BESTSELLING NOVELS OF SUSPENSE FEATURING MARY RUSSELL AND SHERLOCK HOLMES ARE . . .

“Audacious.”—Los Angeles Times
 
“Delightful and creative.”—The Wall Street Journal
 
“Lively adventure in the very best of intellectual company.”—The New York Times Book Review
 
“Rousing . . . riveting . . . suspenseful.”—Chicago Sun-Times
 
“Beguiling . . . tantalizing.”—The Boston Globe

Library Journal

In the latest volume of Mary Russell's memoirs (after God of the Hive), Sherlock Holmes's young wife is sent to Lisbon by Scotland Yard's Inspector Lestrade. Her mission: investigate possible criminal activities of the Fflytte Film Company and the whereabouts of the studio's one-time secretary. Mary's strong personality and wit, on which fans of the series have come to rely, serve her well as she makes her way through the day-to-day frustrations and calamities involved in film production. She is joined by Holmes as the company and her investigation wend their way to Morocco. Russell's encounters with the cast and crew of Pirate King, along with her dislike of all things Gilbert and Sullivan, provide humorous conflict, while her crime-solving collaboration with Holmes, as always, gives readers a taste of their sharp intellect and clever deductions. VERDICT Recommended for series fans as well as devotees of historical mysteries. [See Prepub Alert, 3/7/11; Bantam will release in July King's e-novella Beekeeping for Beginners, in which Holmes relates from his point of view Russell's first weeks with him.—Ed.]—Nancy McNicol, Hamden P.L., CT

OCTOBER 2011 - AudioFile

Jenny Sterlin IS Mary Russell, aka, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. After silent-film industry mogul Randolph Fflytte’s secretary disappears under suspicious circumstances, Inspector Lestrade convinces Russell to go undercover as Fflytte’s new assistant. In her 11th outing, this time without Holmes, Russell grudgingly traipses off to Lisbon, then Morocco, where a film crew is desperately trying to film an action-adventure loosely based on Gilbert and Sullivan’s PIRATES OF PENZANCE. Sterlin delivers Russell’s droll observations with perfect timing. Disturbed by the foolishness of actors, directors, genuine pirates, rumrunners, and other villainous types, Russell laments in a letter to her absent husband, “Holmes, I am awash in a sea of megalomaniacs.” Sterlin’s intelligent performance keeps Laurie R. King’s delightful descriptions, breakneck action, and appealing characters humorous and captivating. S.J.H. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2011, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170704316
Publisher:	Recorded Books, LLC
Publication date:	09/06/2011
Series:	Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes Series , #11
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

BOOK ONE
Ship of Fools
November 6-22, 1924

CHAPTER ONE

Ruth: I did not catch the word aright, through being hard of hearing...I took and bound this promising boy apprentice to a pirate.

"Honestly, Holmes? Pirates?"

"That is what I said."

"You want me to go and work for pirates."

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free...

"My dear Russell, someone your age should not behaving trouble with her hearing." Sherlock Holmes solicitous was Sherlock Holmes sarcastic.

"My dear Holmes, someone your age should not be overlooking incipient dementia. Why do you wish me to go and work for pirates?"

"Think of it as an adventure, Russell."

"May I point out that this past year has been nothing but adventure? Ten back-to-back cases between us in the past fifteen months, stretched over, what, eight countries? Ten, if one acknowledges the independence of Scotland and Wales. What I need is a few weeks with nothing more demanding than my books."

"You should, of course, feel welcome to remain here."

The words seemed to contain a weight beyond their surface meaning. A dark and inauspicious weight. A Mariner's albatross sort of a weight. I replied with caution. "This being my home, I generally do feel welcome."

"Ah. Did I not mention that Mycroft is coming to stay?"

"Mycroft? Why on earth would Mycroft come here? In all the years I've lived in Sussex, he's visited only once."

"Twice, although the other occasion was while you were away. However, he's about to have the builders in, and he needs a quiet retreat."

"He can afford an hotel room."

"This is my brother, Russell," he chided.

Yes, exactly: my husband's brother, Mycroft Holmes. Whom I had thwarted-blatantly, with malice aforethought, and with what promised to be heavy consequences-scant weeks earlier. Whose history, I now knew, held events that soured my attitude towards him. Who wielded enormous if invisible power within the British government. And who was capable of making life uncomfortable for me until he had tamped me back down into my position of sister-in-law.

"How long?" I asked.

"He thought two weeks."

Fourteen days: 336 hours: 20,160 minutes, of first-hand opportunity to revenge himself on me verbally, psychologically, or (surely not?) physically. Mycroft was a master of the subtlest of poisons-I speak metaphorically, of course-and fourteen days would be plenty to work his vengeance and drive me to the edge of madness.

And only the previous afternoon, I had learnt that my alternate lodgings in Oxford had been flooded by a broken pipe. Information that now crept forward in my mind, bringing a note of dour suspicion.

No, Holmes was right: best to be away if I could.

Which circled the discussion around to its beginnings.

"Why should I wish to go work with pirates?" I repeated.

"You would, of course, be undercover."

"Naturally. With a cutlass between my teeth."

"I should think you would be more likely to wear a night-dress."

"A night-dress." Oh, this was getting better and better.

"As I remember, there are few parts for females among the pirates. Although they may decide to place you among the support staff."

"Pirates have support staff?" I set my tea-cup back into its saucer, that I might lean forward and examine my husband's face. I could see no overt indications of lunacy. No more than usual.

He ignored me, turning over a page of the letter he had been reading, keeping it on his knee beneath the level of the table. I could not see the writing-which was, I thought, no accident.

"I should imagine they have a considerable number of personnel behind the scenes," he replied.

"Are we talking about pirates-on-the-high-seas, or piracy-as-violation-of-copyright-law?"

"Definitely the cutlass rather than the pen. Although Gilbert might have argued for the literary element."

"Gilbert?" Two seconds later, the awful light of revelation flashed through my brain; at the same instant, Holmes tossed the letter onto the table so I could see its heading.

Headings, plural, for the missive contained two separate letters folded together. The first was from Scotland Yard. The second was emblazoned with the words, D'Oyly Carte Opera.

I reared back, far more alarmed by the stationery than by the thought of climbing storm-tossed rigging in the company of cut-throats.

"Gilbert and Sullivan?" I exclaimed."Pirates as in Penzance? Light opera and heavy humour? No. Absolutely not. Whatever Inspector Lestrade has in mind, I refuse."

"One gathers," Holmes reflected, reaching for another slice of toast, "that the title originally did hold a double entendre, Gilbert's dig at the habit of American companies to flout the niceties of British copyright law."

He was not about to divert me by historical tidbits or an insult against my American heritage: This was one threat against which my homeland would have to mount its own defence.

"You've dragged your sleeve in the butter." I got to my feet, picking up my half-emptied plate to underscore my refusal.

"It would not be a singing part," he said.

I walked out of the room.

He raised his voice. "I would do it myself, but I need to be here for Mycroft, to help him tidy up after the Goodman case."

Answer gave I none.

"It shouldn't take you more than two weeks, three at the most. You'd probably find the solution before arriving in Lisbon."

"Why-" I cut the question short; it did not matter in the least why the D'Oyly Carte company wished me to go to Lisbon. I poked my head back into the room. "Holmes: no. I have an entire academic year to catch up on. I have no interest whatsoever in the entertainment of hoipolloi. The entire thing sounds like a headache. I am not going to Lisbon, or even London. I'm not going anywhere. No."


CHAPTER TWO

Pirate king: I don't think much of our profession, but, contrasted with respectability, it is comparatively honest.

My steamer lurched into Lisbon on a horrible sleet-blown November morning.

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