“Oh come, come!” said Noddy. He adjusted his spectacles, which had slipped slightly down his knob of a nose. “I’ll tell you in all candor,” he said as he sat down upon the stool and got himself comfortable with a few wiggles of his buttocks, “that everyone talks. No matter how stout and sturdy a fellow thinks himself to be, or how sealed his secrets…everyone talks.” His thick white eyebrows jumped as he spoke, as if to accentuate the sentences. “It is just, as they say, a matter of time. And loss of blood. Oh, dear me! You’d think someone with her wealth would have servants clean this chamber once in a while, wouldn’t you?”
What was the proper response? There was none. Matthew remained silent. Rory lost control and wrenched at his cuffs for a few useless seconds. Noddy watched as if observing the difficulties of a trapped dog.
Then the door opened again. The mistress of the house had arrived.
Mother Deare—her real name Miriam—wore a crimson-colored gown with black ruffles down the front. Her rough workwoman hands were stuffed into black lace gloves. The cottony cloud of her hair was done up with the golden pins Matthew recalled. She was the same as he remembered—a solid, powerful body, a smug expression of superiority, a flophouse madam trying to be the belle of the ball—but there were three glaring differences. Both of her froggish eyes were blackened and swollen, as was her snout. Recently she’d received a good knock.
“Our Matthew,” she said, but the voice was cold and flat and the mouth crimped around the small peg-teeth. Her eyes shifted in their hoods of flesh toward Rory. “And you.” She made a clucking sound of disapproval. Her gaze returned to Matthew. “Enjoyed the circus, did you?”
“I did.” Matthew was trying very hard to keep the terror out of his voice. It was an effort even Coalblack could not have matched. “And I didn’t expect you to have that place staked out.”
“I have people watching for you in many places. It’s going to take some time to call them all in. We have the docks covered, and the roads leading out. My men are going through every coach and wagon, on the pretext of constables searching for the Monster of Plymouth who might be trying to escape the justice he so severely deserves.”
“Good idea. You don’t want that sonofabitch getting loose.”
“Exactly. I happen to be quite a fan of the Pin. I read there about Coalblack—who I went to see last week, and particularly I enjoyed the clown—and I thought…hmmm…he greatly reminds me of the tongueless African giant—your scar-faced friend—we had caged on Pendulum Island. I wondered…not knowing what became of that ebony gent…if you might be interested in seeing someone very like him. After all, I’m sure they’re rare. Well.” She shrugged.
“Since we had the roads and the docks under watch and searchers roaming through Whitechapel, I thought…send a man or three out to Dove’s Wing Alley for the next few nights, just to have a looksee. See?”
Matthew remained silent.
“I admire a man who is being hunted by the law of London and the law of Professor Fell, and who chooses to hide in public view by attending a circus,” said Mother Deare, with a faint smirk. “But we all have to get our minds off our troubles in some fashion, eh?”
Matthew said nothing. His gaze kept slipping toward the hideous-looking instruments on the table.
“Yes,” said Mother Deare, “you are right to fear those, darling Matthew. What a mess you left of Pendulum Island! My God, that beautiful castle and nearly a third of the island…gone into the sea. Do you have any idea what that has cost the professor?”
“I do,” Matthew decided to say. “He’s gone somewhere to lick his wounds and in the meantime there’s a new player in town. He signs his work with a Devil’s Cross, and early this morning he—”
“Raided the Black-Eyed Broodies, killed all of them and stole the Velvet. Yes, I was there this afternoon.” The eyes went to Rory. “I should say, killed all of them but one. Where were you when that was going on?”
“He was with me,” said Matthew.
“Oh? And did either of you have anything to do with the murders of Frost and Willow very near the Tavern of the Three Sisters?”
Matthew again remained silent, and Rory looked at the floor.
“Of course you did! Or…rather…you were mixed up in it, weren’t you? Because Frost and Willow were killed with a sword. That dagger you had in your cloak is very nice, but it didn’t do the job on them, did it?”
Matthew’s mouth was dry. All the liquid in his body was sweating out. He knew exactly where Mother Deare was headed. The cloak.
“Julian,” she said, “bring those items in, please.”
The young blonde-haired man had been waiting just outside the open door. He came in, carrying in one hand the folded paper upon which the verse of challenge was written, and in the other hand the mask of Albion.
Mother Deare took them. She fanned herself with the paper. Her expression had not changed one iota from when she’d first entered the room. “This verse…it’s a ridiculous dramatic,” she said. “Of no consequence to anyone.”
“Danton might think differently,” said Matthew.
The fanning stopped. Then began once more.
“Oh, forgive me, gentlemen,” Matthew said to the four men in the room. “Now that you know Professor Fell’s full name is Danton Idris and he’s a mulatto, Mother Deare will have to kill you.”
“Shall I step out?” Dr. Noddy asked nervously. A little sweat had begun to sparkle on his forehead.
“Certainly not,” Mother Deare replied, still fanning away. “We’re beyond such secrets now, and as I say it’s of no consequence.” She smiled froggishly at the dentist. “Though do mind what your lips spill, Theodore. He wouldn’t care for that to become common knowledge.”
“You may rely on my discretion, as always.”
Suddenly Rory blurted out, “What are you gonna do to us?”
Matthew winced. That question was not one he wished to have answered anytime soon.
Mother Deare ignored him. “I see,” she said to Matthew, “by the mark on your hand that you’ve become a Broodie. How charming! A young gentleman from New York come to London to be transformed into street trash! What a lovely proposition!”
“Did you think the Broodies were street trash when you enlisted them on the professor’s behalf to move all that White Velvet to the streets?”
“I think I should step out,” said Noddy.
“Stay where you are!” she said sharply. Then, in a falsely-gentle voice, “Matthew, this is all business. Every bit of it. There is neither good nor bad in business. There is simply profit or loss. Do you understand that?”
“I understand there’s a drug in the Velvet designed to hasten the process of addiction.”
Noddy said, “I really should—”
“Hush,” she told him. “You’ve heard worse, just put a cork in it.” She regarded Matthew for a moment in silence, and he couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw a measure of respect in those swollen eyes. “Business,” she repeated. “There are other brands of gin out there, Matthew. Many others. Why not create one that has…shall we say…an extra added ingredient, so that this product might truly shine? And people love it, Matthew! They can’t get enough of it! They work their fingers to the bone and break their backs in their low, menial and dirty jobs and have little to show for it. The suffering and despair out there is truly shameful! So we give our fine customers a little escape…for very little money, really. What’s wrong with that?”
Matthew said, “Everything. The Velvet causes more suffering and despair, and the profits go to pay for Fell’s other business activities.”
“I’m listening, but I still don’t hear anything wrong with it. We have created a product and a demand. We control the market in that particular potion, and therefore we—”
“You might not control the market very much longer,” Matthew interrupted. “This new player will likely take a sample of the Velvet to a chemist in his employ and seek to duplicate the formula.�
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“Action will be taken, I assure you.”
“It’s Professor Fell you should be assuring. That warehouse was really your responsibility, wasn’t it? When he finds out about the theft—if he doesn’t already know—he may invite you to dinner and put your head on the roasted pig.”
One of the other men made the mistake of giving a chortle. He rapidly disguised it by clearing his throat, but Mother Deare’s eyes shot flames at him and the man actually ducked his head and retreated a few paces.
When she returned her attention to Matthew, she was all licorice-sweetness and dirty light. She held up the mask of Albion. “Who is he?”
Matthew had known they were coming to this. God, the cuffs were tight! So too was the strap around his chest.
“Albion. Who is he? And where is he? You see the dried blood on this?” She turned the mask between her thick fingers to show him. “Is it his, or that of my men?”
Matthew figured that both Frost’s and Willow’s pistols had been stolen by the time Mother Deare’s men reached the scene, therefore she couldn’t know that Albion had been shot.
“Rory, do you have anything to say?”
To his credit Rory was bravely silent, but he also was looking at the dental instruments with a blanched and sweating face.
Mother Deare said, “Matthew, listen to me. I’m going to ask you those questions once more, and then Dr. Noddy will go to work. There will be no stopping him when he begins. He enjoys his craft. Now: who is Albion?”
Matthew swallowed hard. He heard Rory do the same.
“Where is he?” She paused a few seconds, staring holes through him, and then she sighed. “All right. Noddy, work on Matthew first.”
At that pronouncement, two of the men rushed forward. One squeezed Matthew’s nostrils shut with an iron hand and the other pressed his fingers hard into Matthew’s throat. He was unable to keep his mouth closed. Before Matthew could clench his teeth, Noddy had thrust one of the constructions of metal rods into his mouth. Matthew tried to thrash but was held tight; he thought the corners of his lips were going to be torn. Sharp prongs of metal pressed into the soft tissues. The solid framework kept his mouth from closing. The men took the ends of smaller leather straps that hung from the device and hooked them to the nailheads sunken into the back of the chair, which made his head immobile.
When it was done, Matthew’s mouth was stretched wide open and he had no chance to oppose what was coming. The assembly even had a flat metal piece that kept his tongue depressed.
The men stepped back, giving Dr. Noddy plenty of room.
“Let’s have a look,” the dentist said, with a smile. “Julian, will you bring a lantern over here, please?” It was done. Noddy used the tool with the little mirror fixed to it. “The fine little invention that is currently affording me a view into your mouth—and plenty of space to work, I might add—was created by a Dr. Northcutt a few years ago in order to forestall the effects of lockjaw,” he said. “It has also been used in the beneficent care and feeding of patients in Bedlam.” Matthew felt the little mirror bump against a tooth. “People,” Noddy said, “just don’t take care of their teeth as they should. A pity, really. There’s a great future in dentistry, I firmly believe that. Oh! There’s a small cavity back at the gumline, lower left. Just begun, it looks. Otherwise…a nice set.” He withdrew the mirror and stared into Matthew’s widened eyes.
Noddy’s smile had taken on a sinister twist. “Pain is the problem,” he said. “Why people fear the dental profession. The mouth…the teeth…the gums…so sensitive to injury. I was telling Mother Deare once…I think some men have more feeling in their gums than they do in their balls. I mean, really…you cut a man’s balls off and he’s going to scream, certainly, but the pain fades. You start pulling his teeth one by one and then exploring the empty sockets with the probes…as I told you, young man, everyone talks.”
“Pay close attention to this procedure, Rory,” Mother Deare directed. “If you have anything you wish to say, I would advise you to be forthcoming.”
Rory didn’t answer.
The rush of blood sounded like a raging river in Matthew’s ears. His face was hot but the rest of him shivered involuntarily, as much as it could against the pressure of the cuffs. Tears of anger bloomed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. There was nothing to be done, and no one was coming to save him.
Noddy picked up the pliers. He positioned the little mirror where he could see what he was doing, as Julian held the lantern close. The pliers went into Matthew’s mouth and bumped against front teeth as it moved toward the back. Matthew felt them seize a tooth on the lower left of his jaw.
He heard himself moan.
“Steady,” said the dentist. “We’ll have that out in a jiff.”
Thirty
NODDY’S arm moved with unsuspected power.
Matthew heard the tooth crunch. Heard it being pulled from its root, and then the pressure and pain ripped through his jaw and still the crunching noise went on as Noddy’s wrist twisted the pliers back and forth.
“Stubborn,” Noddy remarked.
Panic hit Matthew yet he could not fight. He could not move, he could not close his mouth. The only thing he could do was grip the armrests harder with his fingers. His tongue fought the restraint, but it was no contest. The pain felt like the side of his face was about to explode. Then with a final twist of his hand Noddy withdrew the pliers with the bloody tooth clamped in it. Blood streamed into Matthew’s mouth; he had no choice but to swallow it down.
“A fine specimen,” Noddy said, holding the tooth up for all to see. Suddenly he frowned and looked closer at it. “Oh me,” he said. “Oh me, oh my! A thousand pardons, Matthew. I’ve extracted the wrong one. It’s the tooth behind this one I meant to get. Well, let’s remedy that.” He dropped the tooth upon the green cloth and with no further hesitation pushed the pliers again into his victim’s mouth.
Where can I go? Matthew asked himself as he heard the tooth crack under pressure. Where can I go to escape this? At the Trot, playing chess? Working with Hudson in the office? Walking along the Broad Way, with Berry beside me? Yes…that. A brisk autumn afternoon…the hills turned gold and purple…
“Another stubborn beast,” said Noddy. “Deeply rooted.”
…our conversation light, the sun sparkling on the windows, nothing to worry about, nothing at all, others stopping to converse, her hand stealing into mine, and no Professor Fell in the world…
“Ah!” The tooth came out, with a last furious twist of the dentist’s wrist. More blood flooded Matthew’s mouth. The pain pulsed with his heartbeat. He coughed and gagged, fearing he was going to choke on his own life fluid.
“Swallow,” Noddy urged. “Little swallows, a bit at a time. Yes, this is the tooth I wanted. See the little spot right there? In time, that could’ve caused you real trouble.”
…holding Berry’s hand, walking along the Broad Way, talking about nothing in particular but knowing we are approaching the future…a fine future…one free of terror and violence…yes, a fine future…
“Before we go on,” Noddy said to Mother Deare, “might I have my reward a bit early? It does so relax me in times of tension.”
Through a blurred red haze Matthew saw the woman give a motion to one of the men, who left the room. Noddy spent a moment wiping the pliers off with the green cloth.
“Now that we have openings,” he said when he was done, “we can explore them a bit more deeply.” He began to pick up one after another of the ivory-handled probes, trying to decide which one to use from his bounty of beauties.
“Anything to say, Rory?” Mother Deare asked.
Matthew tried to shout out No but it sounded like something mangled by a tongueless Ga.
Rory remained silent.
“Your time is coming, young sir,” she said to him. “We’re not going to kill Matthew, because Professor Fell will want to speak with him. You, on the other hand, are garbage and have no value. Therefore w
hen your time comes we have no restraint in what may be done to you, and afterward we are going to kill you. If you cooperate, we can end your life with a quick ball to the brain. If not, you will endure the fires of Hell before you go to the Devil. Are you hearing me?”
Rory said nothing.
“You always were an idiot,” she sneered. “Ah, here’s your solace, Theodore!”
The man had returned with a small blue bottle, which he gave to the dentist’s outstretched hand. Noddy uncorked the Velvet and took a long drink. Afterward he closed his eyes and held the bottle against his heart. “A noble vintage,” he said.
“Yes. Last Tuesday.”
“I might wish to ask what chemical is in this that makes it so very…soothing, would be the word. But I—”
“But you have work to do,” said Mother Deare.
“Exxxxxzactly,” Noddy replied, with joyful enthusiasm. He took another long drink of poisoned courage, corked the bottle and put it aside. “All right now…let’s see…I think this one will be of use.”
Matthew was unable to see which probe the man chose. The sweat burned his eyes and dripped from his chin. He smelled his own fear, a bitter animalish scent. The liquid flowing down his throat caused him to start choking and gagging again.
“We’ll have none of that!” Noddy scolded. “This is one of my best suits! If you mar it in any way you shall pay the piper!”
Mother Deare replied, “I’ll buy you ten fucking suits! Work him.”
The probe clattered against Matthew’s front teeth.
…the Broad Way in autumn…a slight mist over the hills…sailboats on the river…and Berry, walking at my—
A black whirlwind took him. It was a jolt of agony that at the same time coursed up his skull and down his neck to his shoulder. The chair creaked as his body convulsed against the cuffs, and in so doing he nearly dislocated both arms. He heard the dying echo of a strangled scream.
“I believe that touched bone,” said Noddy. “A little more to the right this time.”
Again the horrendous, burning pain tore through his jaw, skull and shoulder. It caused his body to jerk and shake so hard the chair came close to breaking apart at its joints. The scream echoed again, to his fevered brain a distant and alien sound. He had the sensation of rapidly rising and then falling into a pit that seemed to have no bottom.
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