by Andy Emery
With that, Rondeau swept up his coat and hurried out to the hansom prepared by Darius, pausing only to suggest Gedge and Polly get some rest, because they would probably need it for the conclusion of their adventure.
Rondeau was gone for two hours. When he returned, his mood was mixed. Jack Cross had not been at the station, and would be working away overnight. They wouldn’t tell him where, and Rondeau did not trust anybody else with the enquiry about the limping Special Branch man, so it would have to wait until tomorrow.
He had then changed tack and asked Darius to take them into the centre of the city. He was a good actor when the occasion demanded, and after a long and agreeable conversation with the doorman at the Military Club, he gleaned the information that Fox-Williams (who had attained the lofty rank of Brigadier in his career with the Grenadiers) would be dining there that very evening.
At 8.30pm that evening, Mr Arthur Fox-Williams stepped out of the club and hailed a hansom—black-painted and pulled by a dappled grey horse—that had been waiting a few yards away. Fox-Williams raised an eyebrow as he noted the driver had his coat collar pulled up and hat pulled down, revealing little more than his eyes, even though the weather was still unseasonably mild.
As he climbed aboard, he ordered the driver to take him to his home address. A second after he had sat down and closed the hansom’s door, Gedge, who had been lurking near the club’s entrance, whipped it open again, climbed in and sat down facing the former Guardsman. The cab started into motion.
‘What is the meaning of this? This is my cab!’ blustered Fox-Williams, his face turning red under his top hat.
‘Calm down, Brigadier. My name is Lucas Gedge, and we’re going on a little detour before taking you home.’
‘My god! Driver! What are you doing?’
‘Don’t waste your breath. Darius, the driver, is an associate of mine. And don’t try crying out for help, or I’ll be forced to silence you. I’m asking you to be reasonable. There won’t be any unpleasantness if you just answer a few questions.’
‘Unpleasantness? I’ve experienced enough unpleasantness to last me a lifetime. I don’t know what you think you can threaten me with.’
‘Point taken. I will start by putting this to you. I believe you have come under the influence of one Roland Ackerman, another Grenadier Guards veteran. I think he bribed you to let him use the house you own, or owned, near Victoria Park in the East End.’
The Brigadier’s face went pale, but then he set himself again.
‘What business is it of yours to whom I let my own property?’
‘You don’t deny it, then? I’ll tell you why I need to find out what you know. Ackerman has been involved in a number of murders, as well as being a leading figure in a sex and people-trafficking racket, using the house he rented from you for prostitution, and worse. More specifically, he has abducted my own daughter. Now, I am not the police, although they will have to be involved at some point, but I’m appealing to your better nature to help me with this.’
Fox-Williams shook his head and looked out of the cab’s window as it trundled past crowds of milling pedestrians. His bravado had already melted away.
‘I suppose in my shame at the lunacy my son got himself involved in, I have become inward-looking and selfish. I have simply tried not to think about the evil capabilities of Ackerman.’ He turned back to Gedge, and looked him straight in the eye. ‘I will do what I can to help you.’
‘Thank you. Firstly, what exactly does Ackerman have over you? It must be more than the basics of the scandal as reported by that radical rag a year ago.’
‘Yes, it is. My son was fortunate to be able to escape to the continent to avoid a prison sentence or worse. But Ackerman, who had heard of me through the Guards, as you would have surmised, came to me and said that he knew where Jonathan was in hiding. And he had proof, which he showed me. He said if I didn’t help him and his operation, he would get his “rough boys”, as he called them, to bring Jonathan back to England to face the music, and dredge up that whole sorry affair again. Either that, or kill him. I may have wished my son dead on a few occasions over the past year, but I could not let that ogre harm him. So I agreed. I already felt so much shame that a little more didn’t seem to matter very much.
‘As you have said, what he wanted was the use of my house on Sewardstone Road. It used to be the family home until the scandal. I sold it and moved to a modest flat in North London. He signed the letting papers for it, but in fact paid nothing at all. You must believe that I do not know the details of what went on there. Obviously I was aware their activities would not be legal, but prostitution, murder… That’s incredible! His gang no longer use the house. He said it would be a mistake to tempt fate for too long. And in fact I sold the property a few months ago.’
‘Damn! I thought it must be too good to be true. I had visions of getting my daughter back from there tomorrow.’
‘Don’t give up hope just yet. Ackerman and friends are now using another of my properties.’
‘What? How many places do you own, Brigadier?’
‘Just my flat and this other house. It’s on Leonard Street, just off the Whitechapel Road. But Mr Gedge, there’s a problem.’
‘What’s that?’
‘They are moving out the day after tomorrow. I don’t know any details, but Ackerman’s comments to me make it clear that their whole operation is going to come to a head in some sort of event after they've left. I'm sorry, but I don't know where.'
Gedge placed his hand on Fox-Williams’ arm. ‘Thank you for helping me. You may have saved lives. Obviously, we need to take action tomorrow. Now we will take you on to your home.’
‘No. Please. You need as much time as possible to plan whatever it is that you are going to do. Drop me here. There is another cab rank nearby. I wish you the best of luck.’
‘Thank you again, then. But before we part, I just need some details about the house and how best to access it.’
42
Hannah awoke, bleary-eyed. She couldn’t move her hands or feet, because they were bound to the top and bottom of the bed frame. She felt drained, weak, yet also curiously energised. Esther had escaped. Surely at any moment, the house would be raided by the police, with her father leading them, and she and all the other girls held here would be released? But why was she still here? Had the gang fled?
She heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs. The bedroom door was wrenched open. Her heart sank, as Ackerman stood there, looking down at her.
‘Troublesome minx, aren’t you? Annoyance value, like your father.’
‘What about my father?’
‘Oh, he’s trying to make trouble for us. That’s why we snatched you, of course, to put him off. But never mind. Neither your dramatic attempted escape or his interference will make any difference to the outcome. Yesterday I did think of doing away with you, to teach him a lesson, and because you’d ended the life of one of my men. But the fact is, a spirited wench like you is just what some of the more selective buyers are looking for.’
‘Buyers? What are you talking about?’
‘You’ll find out soon enough. In just a little while you’ll be gone from here.’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Not just you. All the young ladies we’ve collected. And I’m not going to tell you where you’re going. It makes no difference to you anyway.’
‘You said you knew my father years ago. But how did you know about me, and the fact that I was going to the Palace of Varieties that night?’
‘Can’t do any harm to let you in on a few of our little secrets. I knew about your dad’s return to England, through an acquaintance of mine. He’s not bad at the snooping game. Kept an eye on Mr Gedge, and realised you were the apple of his eye. Once we’d seen you go to the theatre, that was it. That boy you went with, he wasn’t likely to stop us. There was really only one way back to your place, so once we knew when the show was due to end, it all fell into place.’
The smile disappeared from Ackerman’s face. ‘Actually, she didn’t get away. I have to admit it was a close thing. But there was an accident. She fell. Hit her head.’
‘What?’
‘She’s dead.’
Hannah’s eyes blazed, and tears welled up. ‘An accident? You must think me stupid! You killed her. You or one of your thugs. Just a young girl. You’re animals!’
Ackerman shook his head. ‘I’m not interested in what you believe. But I’ll tell you again. It was an accident. The point is, the whistle wasn’t blown, and shortly it’ll be too late anyway. I suggest you settle down. We’ve learnt our lesson. You’re bound securely, so don’t waste your energy struggling.’
He left, locking the door behind him. Hannah lay there, sobbing. Was there any hope left?
43
That night, Gedge had the nightmare again. This time, in between the weird Arabic ululations, he could just make out a young girl’s voice; pleading, crying out, then finally screaming, gradually rising in volume until it drowned out the chanting. Finally he heard his own voice shouting, and woke with a start.
He washed and got dressed. His jaw ached, as though he’d had it clenched tight for too long. He sat on his bed and shut his eyes. Today was the day. It was now or never. He needed to put his nightmares, their physical effects, and any doubts he might have, out of his mind. He had to focus on the work at hand: rescuing Hannah and the other girls, and dealing with Ackerman and the gang.
He strode up to White Lion Street to brief his friends on what he had gleaned from Fox-Williams. Rondeau pulled out a map and spread it on the kitchen table. Number 27 Leonard Street was a large terraced town house, facing onto a busy thoroughfare.
Darius pointed at the map. ‘We would be wise to attempt entry from the rear. There is a narrow lane running along the backs of the houses.’
Gedge said, ‘Yes, and to try anything in daylight would be foolish. We’ll need to make our move after dark.’
Rondeau said, ‘One other thing we will need to be aware of: this small mark at a crossroads only half a block from the house? It represents what the police call a fixed point. A constable will be stationed there.’
They had obtained all the information they could from the map. Gedge said, ‘We need to decide how we’re going to actually get in to this house. We’ve got to go on a little reconnaissance trip.’
Just before 11am, Gedge, Rondeau and Darius huddled together at the rear wall of the house, while Polly checked on the front.
Gedge pointed. ‘There’s a gap between the top of the gate and the brick arch above. If I was a foot taller I’d be able to see through it.’
Darius cupped his hands, and lifted Gedge gently but firmly up to the gap. He saw a thin, sour-faced man emerging from a door to what he assumed was a kitchen. He put something into a rubbish bin, wiped his hands, and turned to look around at the yard, then up at the windows of neighbouring houses. Seemingly satisfied, he returned indoors.
Gedge eased further up and scanned the yard. The wall bordering the neighbours on the left-hand side was obscured by a hedge of large evergreen shrubs. Several ill-matched and crumbling lean-to sheds lined the right-hand wall, and these seemed to hold the property’s store of firewood. In the centre of the yard the cobbled floor was weed-strewn.
Gedge looked up at the house itself and saw that the central window in the top floor was open, framing a man who was craning his head out and looking this way and that. He ducked down, took out his binoculars, and carefully raised himself so that he could just see over. In Gedge’s magnified view, the man moved back inside and lit up a cigarette, and he realised that the long shape propped up against the window frame was a rifle.
Gedge signalled and Darius lowered him to the ground.
‘There’s a lookout on the top floor. No doubt there’s one at the front as well. And we don’t know how many men are in there, or their firepower. The lock on this back gate doesn’t look substantial, but even if we got through, we could be gunned down in the yard before we’d had a chance of getting to the kitchen door.’
Polly rejoined them.
‘There’s also someone in a top floor window at the front. Otherwise quiet.’
‘We’re going to have to gain entry from here, at the back. But we’ll need to create a diversion.’
Rondeau had been silent, with a furrowed brow, as if concentrating hard on the problem.
‘I happen to know there is a fire station just two streets from here. Can we somehow start a blaze? That would sow confusion. The attention it draws might also play to our advantage.’
‘Those sheds,’ said Gedge. ‘The wood inside them is protected from the damp. If we can project something over the wall and inside, we should be able to start a fire. Claude, I think you’ve hit on something.’
Back at White Lion Street they assembled in the parlour again.
‘So, how are we going to ignite that firewood?’ asked Polly.
‘Torches,’ said Gedge. ‘If we can get hold of wooden sticks and some absorbent material, we can soak the material in a flammable liquid and use it to wrap the ends of the batons. Then we can just use matches to light them when we get there. The difficulty will be throwing them accurately enough to get them into the sheds. Anyone on the ground won’t be able to see what they’re aiming at.’
Rondeau turned to Darius. ‘Our friend here should be able to help with that. You would have to go a long way to find anyone with better projectile skills.’
The Parthian moved closer to the seated group. ‘Monsieur Rondeau is kind as always. But he is correct that I have a facility with such weapons. Somehow my brain appreciates the curve of the flight and it tells my arm the force and angle to use.’
Gedge smiled. ‘Or the tension on a bow string, I wouldn’t wonder. A strange power over horses, projectile weapon skills… I can see why Mr Rondeau values your services so highly, Darius. So, if we can lift you up to take a peek over the door in that wall, that one look will be enough for you to aim the lit torches accurately at the fire-wood sheds?’
‘I believe so, sir. I am concerned about the police constable, however. Unless he has been called away on other matters, he is bound to come running when he realises a blaze has started.’
Polly spoke up. ‘That’s a good point, but it might work in our favour. All being well, his first action will be to alert the fire station, which is just what we want. I think the main problem would be the period before the blaze gets going. If he happens to be dealing with something near the house, or taking a wander from his fixed point because of the cold, and stumbles upon us committing arson, we’ll be in trouble.’
‘We need some sort of insurance against that,’ said Gedge, winking at Polly.
‘It looks like our minds are thinking alike, Mr Gedge,’ she said. ‘Leave the constable to me. And I’ll also make sure the firemen get called. Yourself and Darius will have your work cut out with setting the fire.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Gedge. ‘We’ll use the firemen and their engine as a sort of Trojan Horse. Then it’ll be a matter of Darius and myself searching for Hannah in the house. We’ll have to be prepared for hand-to-hand fighting. Claude, will you stay here?’
The older man scoffed. ‘No. You don’t think you can keep me away from the excitement altogether, do you? I may be past grappling with enemies at close quarters, but I can contribute in other ways. I will take a watching brief outside. If something untoward happens outside the house, I will try to alert you in some way.’
As the darkness drew in, they settled down to hammer out the final details.
44
Ackerman paced the hospital waiting room. The delay was irritating, but he consoled himself with the fact that this would be his penultimate visit before a break of several months. Once he’d been paid for the current job, he’d spend a fraction of the proceeds on
his mother’s hospital fees for the next six months, and then disappear to the continent. It would be a working holiday, of course. If anything, the foreign coppers were even less competent than their British counterparts, and there’d be plenty of opportunity for the acquisition of more lucre.
He’d had enough of the waiting. Ignoring the protestations of the receptionist, he flung open the doors leading to the corridor with his mother’s room. He made it to the room and looked through the circular window in the door. There was something wrong. He walked in and stared at the bed. Not only was his mother not in it, or anywhere else in the room, but the bed had been stripped, and her personal effects were gone.
He heard Doctor Whitehead calling out his name and hurrying along the corridor towards the room. He turned to face him.
‘Well, doctor? Is this what I think it is?’
‘Mr Ackerman,’ began the medic, with a nervous smile. ‘I was about to send for you. I am so sorry. It was quite sudden. We are not sure of the cause as yet, but at your mother’s age—’
‘There’s no need for all this waffle. I understand what you’re saying. She’s gone.’ He turned away to look at the empty bed again.
‘I am glad you are able to take it calmly. We will of course take care of all the arrangements. We will need to discuss certain practical matters. And there is the matter of payment.’
‘Don’t worry about that, doctor. In a day or two I will provide you with ample funds for whatever seems the best method of disposal.’
‘That hardly seems a fitting term for—’
‘Whether you believe it fitting is neither here nor there. What you don’t realise, doctor, is that I’m now free. Free of the albatross that’s been around my neck. I’m feeling strangely light-headed, doctor. And I think now is the ideal opportunity to do something I’ve been wanting to do, ever since I first crossed the threshold of this dump.’