“Most likely if you found them here. She has discolouration around her face and tongue. I’d bet she was being treated for a condition of chest or lung. She may have been weakened”, Reid nodded at the Doctor’s assumption.
“Thank you, Doctor, please file your report”, Reid paused, spotting an angry looking Angus Barrelman in the crowd, “This man…”, but Phillips cut him short.
“Leather Apron, or the new name?”
Reid sighed, “It is, nonsense to give them such notoriety Doctor, whatever circus badge the Press wish to lay on this man, I care not. He is vermin and will be treated as such.”
Barrelman had retreated into the crowd and was slipping away, Reid stepped after him, “Good day Doctor, I have to go.” Angus had slipped the crowd and was picking up pace along the street, he’d down, hands in pockets. He was walking with purpose. “Mr. Barrelman!” Called out Reid, Angus kept going, increasing his pace. “Mr. Barrelman! Stop!” Reid was louder this time.
A couple of head turned towards Angus momentarily, he briefly glanced backwards but kept going. “Angus Barrelman!”, Reid had stopped and was bellowing now, “Mister Angus Barrelman! I’d like to talk to you about the recent death of Annie Chapman.” Barrelman stopped dead in his tracks, more passing strangers turned their heads.
Barrelman spun on his heels and marched towards Reid with eyes full of thunder. The men were getting closer, “Now. If you please”, said Reid.
Angus stopped within spitting distance of the Policeman, “Fuck me, Reid. You know how to ruin a man’s reputation don’t you?”
“Well, you had taken to ignoring me Angus.”
“Lost in thought I was, grief if you will.”
“I know your sort Barrelman, that poor woman may have been known to you, but grief is no something you share readily.” Reid crossed his arms, waiting for it.
“What do you want Copper?”
Reid leant in close, lowering his tone, “I need to know what you know. This man, this…”
“Ripper?” Asked Angus, finishing Reid’s sentence.
Reid took a pause, establishing his lead again, “He’s taking us all for fools. I think she knew him; I think she let him get close.”
Angus looked nervously up and down the street before leaning in closer to Reid, “Saw her, recently, we spoke in The Drum. She had a customer go funny on her.”
“How so?”
“Scared her proper he did, put the fear in her. If it was that man, she didn’t know him from Adam. He must have hunted her, and she would have been petrified”, Angus tailed off, thinking about Annie and Trencher’s warning.
“I’m sorry Angus.” Offered Reid, “But I must ask, did she offer any description? Did she say anything useful?”
Angus shook his head, “Not really, she was a tough girl at heart, wish she’d listened to us.”
“Listened? What do you mean?”
“There was talk, we’d heard about this murderer, we just wanted her to watch her step.” He gazed back in the direction of the crowd around Hanbury Street, “She always wanted to live her own way.”
“Touching, but not really useful for investigative work”, he reached out a hand to Barrelman’s shoulder, “If anything comes to mind, you know where to find me.” With a squeeze he was on his way, leaving Angus behind Reid began striding back to the scene.
Angus called out, “She said he had a scar down his cheek, that and his name was Jack.”
Reid stopped and replied without looking back, “Jack?”
“Yes, seems appropriate given the gossip on the street”, he saw Reid visibly sigh from behind, then the Policeman turned to face him again. “Angus.”
“Yes.”
“If you see Miss Trencher again. I need to talk to her.” The men nodded a silent understanding between them. “One more thing Angus”, Edmund waited for full attention, “He’s, my job. You keep yourself out of trouble.” Barrelman tipped his hat, winked and went on his way.
Later that day The Drum was busy as usual, Trencher sat alone lost in thought. Nursing a slow drink, she was uncharacteristically ignoring the world around her, playing with the damp circles her glass left on the table. Her reverie was abruptly broken when Barrelman dropped onto the seat next to her, “Join you?”
She looked at him for a moment, for second as if she didn’t recognise him, then she nodded. Angus slid a short glass of something dark across to her. “Thought you might like to farewell Annie”, he said.
Trencher lifted the glass in unison with Angus, they clinked the glasses and then threw back the contents. She whistled backwards as the drink burned its way down her throat, started a hissing laugh that turned into a cough.
“Good stuff?”
“Good stuff”, she agreed, the crowd seemed to quieter for a moment, “I’m sorry Angus. For what it’s worth.”
“Me too lassie, she had it hard, but she was making things work.”
“The word is spreading fast now Angus; they’re calling him Jack.” Barrelman was looking towards the bar, “I know.”
“Your doing?”
“In part, but you know people Miss, once their tongues start wagging, you can’t stop them.”
“I guess”, said Trencher.
“I caught a sight through the crowd. Real messed up she was”, he stood and waved his hat at the Barman, “Harry! Harry! Four more over here!”
“Did you find anything over the last few days Angus?”
“Nothing worth sharing.”
“Well, you’ve seen what kind of man you seek. You’ve seen how dangerous he can be. Heed my warnings.”
Angus stretched his arms wide, his waistcoat straining. “This ain’t the work of a local Miss. He’s an intruder and if we catch him at it. We’ll fix him proper.”
Four drinks landed heavily on the table between them, “Thanks Harry”, said Trencher without looking, harry mumbled something incoherent. She raised a glass and pushed one closer to Angus, “I kind of liked her, Annie.”
“She had her moments.” They both raised their glasses, “To Annie.”
“Annie”, whispered Trencher as they threw back their drinks again, resulting in the same burning as before. “I’ve got to go”, she made to leave, but Angus waved a staying hand.
“Wait.” He said for effect, “Inspector Reid.”
“What of him?” Angus was looking at his empty glass, “He’s looking for you, says he wants to talk, ask you what you know.”
“Then I’ll do my best to avoid him.” She stood up with her last drink, “Cheers Angus, be careful”, she said as she downed the fiery liquid.
Angus watched her wince, then spoke, “Something else.”
“I need to go.” He snaked out a hand and grabbed her wrist, she could have turned it on him and had him face down on the table, but she didn’t. She’d been expecting this.
“You knew, didn’t you?”, he suddenly seemed a lot less like a man that had been drinking, he had clarity, “You knew he was coming for her. You knew everything.”
“Angus, I can’t talk right now”, she shook her hand free, “It’s best you don’t know.”
“Who else is going to die Trencher? How many more before it ends?”, he hissed.
Trencher got in close, real close, so she could speak for his ears only. “You need to trust me and play your part; we have a deal.”
“What are you woman? Where are you from?”, asked Angus. “Like I said, its best you don’t know.” She stood tall again, “Thanks for the drink.” With that she was gone, lost to the crowd, Angus didn’t look after her, he just finished his drink.
One more trip chief
London, 2088
The Vault was always cold, but the quick flurry of snow that preceded Trencher’s arrival added an extra chill. She strode into the centre of the room from her own gateway, trails of cold air whipping from her mouth. “What’s left on the clock Brig?” She asked without breaking stride, heading for the coffee jug.
“Agent Trench�
��” Brig was cut short.
“Agent Trencher!”, Mikkelson barked from behind her, “What the Hell do you think you are doing?” Trencher’s shoulders dropped at the voice of the Chief, she turned slowly taking in the apologetic expression Brig was offering up.
“It’s okay Brig”, she took a swig of the coffee and winked to the construct, “Chief! Good to see you, I’ve almost got our man.”
Mikkelson was shaking his head determinedly. “Shutting you down Trencher”, he could see this was a hard sell, “Mack was a great guy, a good Agent and I’ve known him for years. But I need to shut this room down, before you take out the whole damn building.”
Trencher put the coffee down so she could talk with both hands, “I’ve almost got him. I need one more trip to secure him and we can swap him for Mack. One more trip.”
“You’re not listening Trencher; I’d hoped you were better than this.” She looked hard at him for a few moments, looking for a read, seeking inspiration. “Shut it down. Brig.”
“Wait, listen”, fought Trencher, “We hit the timeline too early, I’ve been tracking him. It’s Victorian London for Christ’s sake.”
He spoke past her at Brig, “Shut it down Brig, follow protocol, that’s an order.”
“But Agent McAvoy is not yet accounted for”, Brig’s voice left an echo around the chamber.
“Brig. You may be an advanced construct beyond my intelligence, but you are still supposed to follow orders.”
“If I may, Sir, I would like to elaborate.” Trencher stepped in, “Chief, we have an opportunity to close this and we’re not messing with history, this is history, right here. Jack the Ripper was from here all along.”
“You can’t know that.”
“It’s true, and if I don’t bring him back the day, he kills Mary Kelly that’s when things get fucked up.” Mikkelson looked from one to the other, Brig spoke first.
“Agent Trencher is correct Sir, what we know of Jack the Ripper has matched her experience. His legend was created here, accidentally in this room and it has to play out. We need to ensure the integrity of the timeline.”
Mikkelson found a desk to lean against as he crossed his arms, “You went about this all-wrong Trencher. You should have come to me first instead of racing in half-cocked.”
“I did what I had to do.” She glanced at Brig; the hologram was tapping a holographic console.
“No. Far from it, you did what you wanted to do, you always have.”
Brig looked up from her calculations, “Sir. If I may. There is enough of a window for the opportunity of one more trip, after that we have no choice but to shut it down.”
Trencher spread her hands wide, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could fuck it up.”
“You mean ‘Not Die’ surely?”
“You said ‘the worst that could happen’.”
“I have a definitive lock.” Chirped in Brig.
“Definitive like the last two Brig? Or are we on for real?” , asked Trencher.
The Chief waved in the guards that had been waiting outside, “You’re not going anywhere Trencher, we have to stop this.” Brig floated her way between Trencher and the men.
“What if it was you? Stuck in the Dead Zone, running away from the end of the world?”
“Oh Please, spare the theatrics Agent.”
Trencher was going to say something, but Brig had something to say. “Costigan, Chief Mikkelson does not have that level of empathy. He does however understand the concept of friendship, don’t you Chief?”
Mikkelson’s eyes focus on Brig with venom, “If we didn’t need you…”
“You’re good to go”, said Brig, cutting Mikkelson off mid expletive.
At that moment Trencher launched herself at the centre of the room. Brig flicked her hand in the air and a portal burst into life, snow began to fall.
“Stop Her!”, bellowed Mikkelson.
Trencher threw herself into the rip, coat flapping, three shots fired from the guards followed her, but she was gone. The gateway snapped shut, followed by silence, the amber and red hue was replaced by cold steel. Brig went about her business while the Chief exploded at her, “You damned insane fucking machine!”, he screamed.
“I trust her Chief, so should you.” Mikkelson looked up beyond Brig at the countdown on the wall, the minutes slid under three.
back again for vengeance
London, 1888
Trencher didn’t need to open her eyes to know she lay on the thick carpet in Herbert’s hallway. She did need to open her eyes to crane her head a look at the three bullet holes in the back of his front door. The final snowflakes of her transit spiralled down in front of her, she could feel the weight of a light dusting on her hair. She laughed inwardly at the adrenaline fuelled dive, the landing and the crack, crack, crack that followed her.
The Study Door flung open, and Herbert burst into the hallway, “What the Hell?”, he saw Trencher and immediately offered a hand, “Trencher, my goodness!” He helped her up, dusting snow from her coat, “What happened?”
She nodded at the solid door, “My Boss wasn’t too keen on my coming back”, she said.
Herbert stepped closer to the door, “Are those…”, he couldn’t bring himself to say it, “Bullet holes?”, he asked, adjusting his glasses.
She nodded, “yes, but one thing bright side, they’re small ones.” Now they were face to face and she burst into a wide grin, she grabbed him in a bear hug, “Sorry I left in a rush Herbert, there wasn’t time for a note.”
“Well, you were missed, I have to say.”
She pulled him in and planted a kiss on his lips. “Now, what’s the date? Date, date, date, today?”, she paced towards the stairs and sat down.
“It’s the twenty-ninth of September, it’s been about three weeks again.”
Trencher went quite for a moment, thinking, “twenty-ninth, thirtieth, dammit Brig that’s tight”, she said to herself out loud, “Herbert. I need a drink.”
“I’ll get some tea”, he said.
“No, something stronger please. I have to be somewhere tonight, and I need some fire in my belly.”
That night as the mantelpiece clock ticked inexorably towards midnight Trencher and Herbert sat in sumptuous wingback chairs. Nursing a brandy glass each and enjoying the warmth of a crackling fireplace. “Is the time correct?”, asked Trencher.
Herbert smiled, “Yes”, he winked, “Again.”
She swirled her glass and sank a decent sip of brandy. “I am fighting myself Herbert, resisting the urge to step in. I could stop this; I could still step in and end this madness.”
“Yes, but there are some rules that shouldn’t be broken”, he replied.
Trencher hunched forward, holding the glass in both hands, staring into the bottom of it as she spoke, “Tell that to Elizabeth Stride, a couple of hours from now she’ll be lying cold in the dark, waiting to be discovered.”
“You have an enormous responsibility on your shoulders Costigan, but the potential ramifications are unthinkable. Stop torturing yourself.”
“And Catherine Eddowes? What about her?”, she looked up from the depths of the glass and into his eyes, “Tonight is his big night, the grand double murder”, she snorted at her own words, “If it was murder, plain and simple I could accept it. It’s the mutilation that turns my guts inside out.”
Herbert leant forward and stoked the fire, sparks briefly flew, then the warmth came back at them. “You’re staying in tonight my dear, Herbert’s orders.”
She lifted her glass, “Then you’d better ply me with drink Mr. Wells, because I have an itch to scratch.”
“Right then”, Herbert stood and grabbed the carafe of Brandy, he generously topped up her glass. “You know, you never told me how you ended up doing what you do”, he said as he sat back down.
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m all ears.”
She took a long sip of her drink. �
��Okay.” Herbert settled in attentively. “Yes. I had a damaged upbringing, and after a rough start I joined the Police instead of been caught by them”, she shrugged and looked at the fire, “Sometime early on, I got selected for the Timeagents, something about my aptitude and lack of family that made me appealing.” She paused for another drink, enjoying the burn as the alcohol slipped down. “I like to believe it was more to do with my interest in history.”
“An obvious character trait”, suggested Herbert, jumping up and taking in the room with his hands out wide.
“Quite”, she said, motioning him to stand down before she went on, “Time travel was fairly new, technology had unlocked the method, but couldn’t control it. We knew there would be developments and the department were trying to get ahead of the curve”, another drink, “Once it got steady the Black Market stepped in of course. Rich people without morals wanted to experience things, and in the process some silly rich people died. Badly.”
“I dread to entertain how.”
“Fucking stupid, that’s how.”
“Quite”, he tipped his drink with a tipsy wink.
“The Timeagents were tasked with closing down the illegal operators, which we did with a particular efficiency. We sued traditional policing at first, then we started using the technology against them. They would hide in history and we would hunt them down, leaving no trace”, she smiled for a moment, lost in a memory, “Then, the more adept we got they more exciting the adventures became. It wasn’t long before someone suggested using the past as a prison.”
She drank deep, thinking of Mack, “It was an elegant soloution in theory, take the really bad lifers and leave them somewhere they’ll never escape from.”
“Of course, until something goes wrong.”
“Until something goes wrong”, she agreed, “Exactly. That’s when it gets ugly, and the Agents take the fall.”
Herbert was enthralled, she had stopped, and he spoke, “Is this your fall Trencher?”
“That depends on who you ask”, she said shaking her head, “I know I can’t stop travelling. Once it’s in your blood it’s an addiction.”
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