by Andy Emery
‘I’ll find out what’s down there. As long as nobody’s looking directly at the corner, this little mirror won’t be noticed.’
‘Be careful. Call out if you’re seen.’
Polly padded down to the bottom step. She could see that the walls were made of brick, and the light was provided by the flickering flames of torches mounted in wall sconces.
She inched the mirror around the corner, exposing as little of it as possible. It was only three by two inches, but she was nervous about anyone looking in its direction. She tilted it up and down, left and right, trying to translate what she was seeing into a proper picture of the corridor and beyond.
The lit wall sconces continued down one side. It was difficult to judge distance through the distorted view, but the passage seemed to open out into a larger chamber, with further corridors leading off it.
As she was about to tiptoe back up the stairs to report her observations, a reflection of a bulky form appeared in the centre of the mirror. A man, bundled up in an overcoat and carrying what looked like a rifle, had emerged from one of the side passages and was slowly walking up the corridor towards her, whistling as he came.
Polly withdrew the mirror and tucked it away. She flattened herself against the wall, still standing on the bottom step. Her right hand gripped the revolver, and she strained to quieten her breathing, so that she could better hear the man’s approach. Glancing up, she could see the worried expressions of Gedge and Darius at the top of the stairs.
The volume of the footsteps and whistling increased. She recognised the latter as the tune from the well-known bawdy music hall ditty, The Tuner’s Opportunity.
He seemed to be on the point of turning the corner and seeing her. She could feel cold sweat forming at the small of her back. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Then, a female cry, from further back down the corridor.
‘George, come ’ere!’
The man stopped whistling and Polly heard him turn on his heels and walk away. She raised her left hand to her mouth, muffling the sound of her exhaling breath. Collecting herself, she beckoned to Gedge and Darius.
‘There’s at least two of them nearby. A man and a woman.’
Gedge cautiously looked around the corner. Nothing to be seen. He could vaguely hear two voices in conversation. When the voices stopped, he waited for a few seconds and stepped into the corridor, gesturing for the others to stay.
He could now see that the corridor terminated in an octagonal chamber, with eight internal pillars marking the points of the octagon. Opposite, and at ninety degrees left and right, three other passages led away from the chamber. There was a black velvet curtain hanging down a few feet inside the corridor opposite.
As he approached the octagonal area, Gedge heard noises that sounded like floor-sweeping, and, risking a look round the corner, he saw a girl with her back to him, using a broom. The passage was lined with prison cells. The barred gates to the cells were all open and it looked like the girl was in the process of cleaning them out. At the end of the passage was a wooden door.
Gedge signalled for Polly and Darius to follow him, and they silently came up behind. He indicated that he would move out into the corridor of cells alone.
He stepped round the corner and walked towards the girl.
‘Excuse me? Can you help?’
The girl jumped and wheeled round to face him, hands gripping her broom. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘No need to be alarmed. I’m sorry to say I’m late for the auction. Is it through here?’ He pointed towards the octagonal room.
‘They’re all supposed to be here already, all the guests.’
‘Oh, your man upstairs checked my bona fides, I assure you. Is it through that curtain back there?’
‘I’m not sure about this. Wait a moment. George!’
At that, the wooden door at the end of the passage was pulled open and a guard emerged, with a rifle slung on his back.
‘Sally, what do you—’
He was brought up short at the sight of Gedge, and reached for the rifle. Gedge leapt at him, as Sally screamed. He knocked the guard down and landed a punch square onto one side of his jaw, then a second to the other side, knocking him out. Beyond the door was a small kitchen area. Gedge dragged the body in there and shut the door behind him.
Sally shrank away from Gedge. She had dropped the broom, and pulled a small dagger out of the waistband of her pinafore.
‘Get back! Don’t touch me.’
‘I don’t want to touch you, Sally. But you’re working for some very evil men. Now tell me, is the auction taking place through the curtain back there?’
‘Yes, but what’s it to you?’
‘My daughter’s in there. I’m going to get her out.’
The girl’s face changed; a sly smile replaced the grimace.
‘Is that Hannah yours? Handful, that one. They had to give her something to keep her quiet. They think you’re dead. Said they’d done for you, ’cos you’d been causing trouble for ’em.’
‘If that’s what they’re thinking, then good. Now, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to exchange pleasantries.’
He lunged forward, took the knife out of her hand, and bundled her into one of the cells. He ripped a piece of cloth from her pinafore and gagged her with it, before tying her hands and ankles and leaving her on one of the bunks.
Polly and Darius had been waiting in the octagon, out of sight. Opposite the corridor where he’d left the girl was another identical passage, again with cells either side, all with the doors open, empty.
‘This must have been where they were keeping the girls,’ said Gedge. ‘Before this so-called auction.’
‘It must have started by now,’ said Polly.
Gedge reached out, and slowly opened the curtain by a couple of inches.
‘Yet another passage beyond,’ he whispered. ‘There are more curtains running down the left side of it. Whatever’s going on must be behind there.’
As he pushed through, he heard a male voice, carrying from somewhere ahead.
‘And now, gentlemen, what you’ve been waiting for! We will bring the ladies in. Firstly, as a group, and then individually, for you to better appreciate the finer points. You will be able to bid at that stage.’
Gedge hurried up to the first curtain and pulled it back. Two men were sitting, with their backs to him, in a cubicle that reminded him of a private box in a theatre. They were looking out into an empty space in the middle of the chamber, where a dandified man wearing a coloured waistcoat was holding a piece of paper and looking on as a group of about twenty girls, all aged in their late teens, were prodded into the brightly lit central area.
Gedge could see the open fronts of similar boxes on the other side of the arena. They were dark, and he could only vaguely see the shape of people inside them. No doubt the clients valued their anonymity.
‘And here they are!’ said the dandy.
One of the seated men turned to see who had entered the back of his box.
It was Ackerman.
Snarling, he hurled himself at Gedge, throwing him back through the curtain and into the corridor. Darius and Polly moved to help.
‘He’s mine!’ said Gedge. ‘Get in there! Get Hannah and the other girls!’
Darius readied his crossbow as he ran into the box. On seeing him, the other man clambered over the waist-high barrier into the arena, wincing in pain. As he backed away, the Parthian noted that he was limping. It was Naseby, the Special Branch man.
The dandy, who had been shepherding the girls, brandished a revolver and aimed it at Darius. But he wasn’t quick enough. A bolt struck him in the neck and he fell to the ground, gurgling blood. Some of the girls started screaming. Darius had noticed that most of them were strangely docile, standing there swaying gently to and fro, with vacant expressions. Drugs, he presumed. Maybe the sight of the dying man on the floor was breaking through the fog in their heads.
He had los
t sight of Naseby between the mass of girls, but then, with horror, he saw him pull clear of the crowd, holding one of the girls, with a dagger at her throat.
Gedge was pinned to the floor in the corridor. His own gun had been knocked out of his hand and now Ackerman was reaching for it.
‘Gedge, I must applaud you for your resilience. Let’s end this here and now. I’m not going to let you spoil our plans.’
‘My friends may be spoiling them already.’
The sound of screams from behind the curtains seemed to give Gedge renewed strength. He freed his right leg and thrust his knee as hard as he could into his opponent’s thigh. Ackerman cried out in pain and Gedge took advantage by ramming a fist upward into his prominent jaw. He broke away and swept up the revolver from the floor.
Ackerman, dazed, pulled himself upright and stared at Gedge, who had levelled the gun at his head. A smile broke out on Ackerman’s face.
‘You’ll have to do it, Gedge!’
He hurled himself forward.
Gedge fired point-blank into Ackerman’s mouth. He was transfixed for a moment, as blood and brain matter sprayed out behind him onto the curtain. Then, he collapsed in a heap.
‘As you said, it’s dog eat dog. You’ve go to to be tougher than the other bloke,’ muttered Gedge as he jumped over the body.
He found Darius standing just outside the box, aiming his crossbow at Naseby. His heart missed a beat when he saw that it was Hannah being held at knifepoint in the middle of the arena. The other girls had shrunk away to the corners of the room.
‘I think the clients have taken to their heels,’ said Darius. ‘I hope Monsieur Rondeau is alright upstairs.’
‘And Polly?’
Darius shrugged.
Gedge called out to Naseby.
‘You might as well give up. You’re the last one left. What can you hope to do?’
‘A strange thing to say, Gedge. Surely you have been putting all your efforts into bringing this young thing to safety. Can you not see that I can end her life in an instant? You and your friends will back off and allow me to pass, otherwise that is exactly what I will do. I may release her later if it represents no threat to me.’
Hannah looked both terrified and strangely unaware of what was happening.
‘You won’t be leaving here, Naseby. You don’t really think I’ll allow a venal, corrupt swine like you to get away, do you? Just release my daughter.’
‘Spare me the holier-than-thou speeches, Gedge. Ackerman was a bastard, but he was right about one thing. It’s every man for himself, these days. Get what you can, when you can. Even the highest in society know that. The ones who have just run out of here with their tails between their legs. You should have grabbed one or two of them. Now that would have made a story for the papers. Or maybe not, seeing as how their editors are involved as well. You do-gooders will never understand what goes on.’
Then another voice rang out. Female. Loud and clear.
‘Let her go!’
It was Polly. She had made her way to the opposite side of the room and had her own revolver aimed at Naseby’s head. For the first time, he looked worried, his eyes fitting between her gun and Darius’s crossbow. He started to back away, dragging Hannah with him.
At this, Gedge noticed a change in Hannah. Had she suddenly realised what was happening? She saw Gedge, and her eyes flashed in acknowledgement. She raised her head slightly, opened her mouth, and bit down hard on Naseby’s hand. He let out a high-pitched shriek, but even before he’d had time to finish it, Gedge had fired.
The bullet entered the centre of Naseby’s forehead. He released his grip on Hannah, and, with a look of surprise, sank to the ground, dead.
Gedge ran to his daughter and she fell into his arms. As he held her limp body, recognition spread across her face and the tears began to flow.
Polly dropped to her knees beside him. ‘Is she okay?’
Gedge stroked Hannah’s hair. ‘She’s been through hell, but she’s a fighter. She’ll get over this. I’ll make sure of it.’ Hannah nuzzled closer to him, and as she did so, Gedge felt a pulse of joy as he noticed that after all she’d been through, she was still wearing the St Christopher, the mirror-image of his own.
Gedge looked up at Polly. ‘Where are Garland and the police? They should be here by now. You’d better make sure your father’s alright, upstairs. But be careful. Darius, can you check the other girls?’
‘Leave it to me.’ The Parthian shepherded the girls into several of the boxes so that they could sit down and recover.
52
Clutching her revolver, Polly climbed over the partition and left the chamber. She scanned along the two rows of cells. Nobody could be seen, so she ran along to the cell where Gedge had tied the girl up. She wasn’t there. The cloth he had used to bind her lay on the floor. Either she had freed herself, which Polly doubted, or somebody fleeing from the scene of the auction had let her go. She climbed the stairs two at a time.
At the top, a young man, perhaps twenty-five years old and wearing an expensive fur coat, lay in a pool of blood in the centre of the room. His top hat lay a few feet away. Slumped beside the door leading to the waste ground outside was Rondeau. The front of his coat was soaked with blood. He seemed to be trying to say something to her. His lips moved, but little sound came out.
She ran to him and looked with horror at his injuries. He had been stabbed several times in the chest and stomach, and he was losing blood fast. He made jerky beckoning movements with his hands, and she bent close to his mouth.
‘Polly. My dear. I tried… tried to stop them. Too many… They came all at once… Overpowered. Knocked me over. Then a last one. He had a… girl with him. Told him to stop. Came at me. I fired. He went over. There… Did not see… Girl had a knife. Went berserk. Cutting, stabbing. Left after the others.’
‘I’ll find her. And the rest. But first we must get you looked at, urgently.’
‘No. Too late. This is it. End of my story. I won’t leave here alive. Polly… My love.’
‘No! That can’t happen. You can’t die, Claude!’
He raised his right hand, soaked in blood, up to her head. He gently took hold of a lock of her auburn hair.
‘You are my girl, Polly. You must carry on. Help Lucas. He is the one, you know that. You know what to do. You will work out how to use my contacts. The network.’
He paused, riding another surge of pain.
‘And… As we thought, the clients, they… some of them… are the highest in society. The professions, our institutions. They are all in it. Must be exposed!’
His face contorted with agony and his eyes locked with Polly’s.
She realised, with an icy certainty, that he didn’t have long.
But there was something else he needed to say.
She brought her ear up close to his mouth.
Gedge had carried Hannah up the stairs, and was followed by a ragtag gaggle of young women, martialled by Darius. Gedge’s mouth dropped open as he saw the blood-soaked room. The old man, who in a few days had become a trusted mentor and friend, lying in the arms of his young ward, who was softly sobbing.
Gedge set Hannah down on a chair. With Darius and the other girls crowding round, he knelt down beside Polly. She dried her eyes and looked round at him.
‘He’s gone.’
Gedge took her right hand, and then Rondeau’s left, and clasped them together in front of him.
‘He will never be forgotten. And more than that, his work will continue. We’ll make sure of that.’
Polly nodded, and the assembled crowd lowered their heads and paid their respects.
A few minutes later, Hugh Garland, Jack Cross and three uniformed policemen strode across the demolition site towards the shack.
‘Well,’ said Garland. ‘We’ve caught at least some of the gang’s clients. There’ll be some explaining to do in a few wealthy households before long. But the gang themselves? We haven’t seen Ackerman or Naseby.�
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‘Nor Gedge or Rondeau,’ said Cross. ‘I’m dreading what we’re going to find in here, to be honest.’
But before they reached the door, it was opened. Lucas Gedge stood there.
‘Inspector Cross, Major Garland. You’d better come in.’
53
Three weeks after the events at the former prison, Gedge was again sitting on the bench in the garden of Christ Church, Spitalfields. He was wrapped up against the sudden chill that had descended on the capital. The temperature had dropped like a stone in the last few days. Snow was predicted. He was breathing deeply, trying to imbibe some fresh air from the tiny green space. The traffic noise seemed to quieten for a few minutes, and when he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was in the middle of the countryside.
‘We may be right next to the house of god, but that won’t stop one of the locals from picking your pockets, you know.’
Polly, smiling broadly, came and sat next to him.
‘How are you?’ said Gedge.
‘Much better. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get over it exactly, but the pain gets less each day. Sometimes it feels like being cast adrift in life, without your navigator, without your compass. But then I tell myself not to be so silly. He brought me up to be self-reliant and that’s what I’ll be. Moping about just isn’t our way.’
‘That’s the spirit. You’re going to stay on in White Lion Street?’
‘Of course. I love that street and that house, with all its history. Maybe one day I’ll move on. But I need to go through and organise all of Claude’s things. It’s not a straightforward task.’
‘Do you want some help with it? If I’m to carry on with his work, it would seem a good way to start an understanding of it.’