by Skye Knizley
He picked up the remaining box and opened it, showing Chastity the ornate bracelet inside.
“This one is for you,” he said triumphantly. “Richard made it, he’s a genius with miniatures. It contains one-hundred and fifty feet of special cord and a metal spike. In tests, the spike was able to go through a four inch wall, so you should have no trouble using it as a grapple line.”
Chastity took the large bangle from the box and examined it with a practiced eye. The silver jewelry was exquisitely engraved and had been rubbed with carbon to look like an antique. The spike, as Herbert called it, would eject from an opening in the side and the bracelet itself could be used to grip the cord contained inside the hollow piece of jewelry.
“How does it work?” she asked.
Herbert pointed at the silver stud just visible on one side. Aim and press there. Out comes the spike. The action is automatic once the spike hits home so hang on tight.”
Chastity slipped the bracelet over her left wrist and kissed Herbert’s cheek.
“You, Richard, and Nikola have outdone yourselves this time. I’ll let you know how it works in the field.”
Herbert smiled. “Just bring it back in one piece, it’s a one of a kind.”
Chastity laughed and turned to leave. “Just like me!”
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Chastity stood in the shadows of a large building across the street from Scotland Yard. She wore a hooded leather cloak as protection against both identification and the rain, and was quietly dining on a paper-wrapped meat pie as she studied the five story building opposite.
The outsized building was of peculiar construction, even for London. The first two levels were made from stone quarried and set in place by prisoners, while the higher floors were constructed from coal-fired bricks made from clay; in the darkness it gave the building a strange two-toned color.
Only a few lights flickered in the upper floors and Chastity was certain the building was as empty as it was going to get. London had almost as many police on the streets at night as they did during the day. She finished her late supper and pulled a black mask from beneath her cloak. She slipped the mask over her eyes, further hiding her identity and crossed the empty street to the shadowed walk on the opposite side. From there she crept through the shadows to the distant corner nearest the river. Here she was not visible to passersby on the road and too far from the river for her to be visible against the building. It took little effort to unlatch and raise one of the basement windows. She dropped through the opening and looked around. She found herself in a square chamber stacked with old furniture, bricks, and the odd lump of coal. She paused to listen for any presence before trotting down the rows of stacked desks, chairs, and tables to the stairs at the end of the dank basement. She peered around the corner and up the short flight of steps to the door at the top. A small amount of light flickered through the gap at the bottom of the door from an oil or gas lamp in the next chamber.
Chastity crept to the top and pressed her ear to the lock. She could hear nothing but a deep, masculine voice from somewhere above and tested the latch. The door opened slightly and she peered through the gap. The hallway outside emptied into a lobby area on one end, while the other disappeared into a maze of rooms that Chastity knew to be offices for the lower ranked police inspectors. The locker room, cafeteria, and other such amenities were also located at the far end of the building alongside the offices.
Chastity stepped into the hallway on padded feet and closed the door behind her. It took her only a few steps to reach the shadows at the bottom of the stairs and she glanced upward to make sure no one was coming down. There was no sign of anyone on the higher floors and she took the steps two at a time until she reached the third floor where the higher ranked officers had their offices.
Chastity moved through the rooms with supernatural grace, searching for Price’s office. She located the single dancing candle and again crouched in the shadows. A light meant people and she could hear the scratch-scratch of a pen on paper coming from the room ahead.
She kept her back to the wall and crept forward; if anyone caught her here it would be a year in the tanty, or worse.
The dimly lit room was a communal office with twelve desks arranged along the walls, leaving an area clear at the center. All of the desks were piled high with files; the backlog of cases was rumored to be in the thousands. A single officer was seated next to an oil lamp near the window, his pen working furiously through his daily report.
Damn, Chastity thought. Of course the Bobby working tonight isn’t the one I am looking for.
She backed into an empty office and knelt in the gloom, one hand reaching for the collection of vials she kept in a pouch on her sword belt. She identified the ones she was looking for by touch; cardamom, chamomile, rosemary, and peppermint all went into the palm of her hand. She mixed them with her finger until the powder was a uniform golden color than flickered in her hand. As soon as the glow began to fade, she whispered, “sleep” and blew on the powder, which flittered away toward the hard-working officer.
Chastity waited until she heard the dull thud of the officer’s head on his desk before standing and walking into the room where the officer was slumped face down over his paperwork, slumbering peacefully.
She patted him lightly on the back and whispered, “Sorry, you will wake in a few moments,” then hurried along the desks looking for the one belonging to Price. She located his office in a back corner and took a seat in the uncomfortable wooden chair, not surprised to find it was still warm. Price had seemed like the kind of man who worked too much.
Unlike the other desks, this one was tidy, with his papers and files sorted into baskets labeled ‘open’, ‘closed’, ‘priority’, and ‘mail’. Also on the desk was a recent photograph of Price and a young boy in front of a Marshal’s office. It appeared to have been taken somewhere in western America judging by the sandy street and wooden buildings. Price was wearing a small badge she didn’t recognize.
I was right, she thought. An American policeman, come to London. Inspector Price just gets more and more interesting.
Chastity gazed at the photo for a few moments, her fingers lightly tracing the glass of the frame before she set it aside and went back to work. It would only be a few minutes before the sleep spell wore off and the officer went back to work. She sorted through the pile of papers marked priority and placed a single sheet of paper aside.
‘Report of Doctor Thomas Bond,’ she read. ‘The head of the unknown woman was found in the River Thames by a Mr. Marlowe Locke. The head had been placed in a burlap bag and was thoroughly soaked when found. The head was severed cleanly between the fifth and sixth vertebrae, though the vertebrae were notched as if the perpetrator had some difficulty cutting through the spine. Though somewhat decomposed, the wound is clean and was done with a very sharp knife or surgical implement. It is my opinion that the victim was dead when the head was removed, but had been deceased for only a short time. Based on the condition of the skull and lack of decomposition, I estimate the head was in the river but a few hours prior to being found.’
Chastity reread the report then slipped it back into the stack before continuing her search for anything else that would be pertinent to her investigation. The only other item of interest was a note that read like one of Nikola’s shopping lists. The list included such items as copper wire, glass tubing, lead pipes, zinc, acid, and chloroform. Price’s notation indicated he was sending several officers to locate Jacob Lancaster, who may have been guilty of both thefts.
There was a groan from the resting officer and Chastity finished her search by putting everything back as neat as it had been when she started. She then retraced her steps and exited onto the street near the river, her mind racing. Whoever had beheaded the young woman had done it with almost surgical precision, but to what purpose? The time and care taken didn’t make sense, not for a typical murder. Whatever was afoot was definitely more than a simple slaying or a crime of passion. Perhap
s she could uncover more at Doctor Bond’s office. He was sure to have kept copies of the notes he provided to the police and it would save her the trouble of having to track down the other inspectors and their files.
Chastity hid in the shadows and waited until she saw a coach going in the right direction. When it slowed to round the corner, she ran behind and stepped aboard the footman’s rest at the rear, her shape hidden by the bulk of the coach. It was an urchin’s trick she used to good advantage on her night forays through the city, one which allowed her to arrive at the good doctor’s office less than an hour later.
Doctor Thomas Bond’s office was a two story building near the city’s old outer wall. Made of rough stone and mortar like many of the older buildings, the house stood right at the edge of the cobbled street. A single gas street lamp burned near the building, causing Chastity to wait until the coach had faded back into the darkness before she stepped off and scurried into the shadows in the building next to Bond’s office.
She waited for several minutes to make sure she hadn’t been observed, then crossed to the doctor’s office. Like most surgeons who worked for the city, Bond had a side door through which corpses could be brought without being in the view of the public eye. That sort of thing tended to draw a crowd.
Chastity tested the door and found it locked, though with a simple latch that opened easily at her magikal touch. The door opened on oiled hinges that made but a hint of sound, but still she paused before entering, waiting to be certain none of the neighbors had decided to visit the privy and heard the noise. When she saw no-one approaching, she entered and closed the door behind her.
Alone in the darkness, Chastity knelt and waited until her eyes had adjusted to the almost complete blackness. After a few minutes, her keen eyes began picking out details such as the wooden operating table and the four large oil lamps that would be used during the doctor’s all too frequent examinations. The city had more than its fair share of corpses.
Chastity pulled back the hood of her cloak and walked toward the wooden door in the far wall. It opened into a short hallway with two doors, one that led into the doctor’s primary exam room, the other into a small office and library. Chastity entered the library and closed the door behind her. With it shut she would be able to risk a small light as the room’s single window faced the adjacent building and the heavy curtains were drawn. She used a Lucifer match to light the doctor’s lamp and placed it next to the stack of papers on the desk. By its faint glow she could see she was standing in a room that was smaller than it had seemed in the dark. The walls were lined with bookshelves heavy with tomes about anatomy, medicine, alchemy and various other topics. In the center of the room was a large desk flanked by two deep leather chairs. A large portrait of a stern man in a black cloak glared down from the wall over the desk. The plaque read Thomas Bond, II.
Like Inspector Price, Doctor Bond was a very neat and organized person. His desk was devoid of anything save a leather-bound appointment book and a calendar made of wooden blocks. Four small portraits depicting the doctor with his family sat on the corner of the desk beneath a small layer of dust.
Hmm, I guess the good doctor’s maid doesn’t dust the heirlooms, Chastity thought. Or doesn’t like them much.
She pushed back from the desk and started rummaging through the draws. The first contained ordinary patient files and, though curious, Chastity refrained from thumbing through them, it was none of her business. The second draw contained the doctor’s cases for the police and she found what she was looking for under the inspector’s names. She spread both files open on Doctor Bond’s desk and read through the reports on his findings. Both were similar to the one she had read before. The other body parts had been found in separate locations, however both were found to be well preserved and had been removed from their owners with great care. The woman’s arm, for example, had been removed at the shoulder with surgical precision. Doctor Bond’s notes indicated that the victim had been alive when the limb was removed. The leg, however, was judged by skin coloration and pooling of blood in the tissues to have been removed some time after death.
Most curious of all were the odd puncture wounds in both limbs. The cauterized lesions were evenly spaced and contained traces of both arsenic and gold. Doctor Bond was at a loss to explain the presence of either material, though he suspected it had nothing to do with the crime and rather was an odd disfiguring ritual. The punctures had occurred after the limbs had been removed and not while attached to the victims.
The only sounds as she reviewed the files were her breathing, the scratch of her pen on her notepad and the crisp of the lamp flickering in the gloom. Chastity took notes of everything, then put the files back and blew out the lamp. She waited again for her eyes to adjust, then left through the same door she’d used to gain entry. Once outside, she used her key to lock the door behind her, it would never do for an unscrupulous individual to break into the doctor’s sanctum.
No coaches would be out at this late hour, so Chastity had no choice but to make her way home on foot. The night had become thick with fog and she walked slowly through the night toward Newgate, her cloak pulled tight around her as protection against the growing cold. She was lost in thought, pondering what part the presence of gold and arsenic played in her case and barely noticed the four figures that stepped out of the gloom of a noisome alley behind her.
“’Ello, pretty pretty,” one of them called. “Wha’s a lady like you doin’ out on a night like this then?”
“Shouldn’t you be at home with your mum?” Laughed another. “Pay us right proper and we’ll escort you, no trouble.”
Chastity shook her head and kept walking. “Thank you, but I have no need of your services tonight. Why don’t you lads go on home and find some honest work tomorrow, yes?”
The first one cracked his knuckles in the dark. “Did ya hear that, lads? The Dollymop thinks we aren’t honest men and she’s the one all done up like a mug hunter.”
“That’s not very nice, Dollymop. I think you owes us a finny or we’ll have to see what’s behind that pretty mask a yorn,” said the second, moving to block Chastity’s path.
Chastity giggled, but continued walking. “Five pounds to keep you from mugging me? I don’t think so, boys.”
She ignored the three men closing behind, her eyes focused on the young man blocking the street in front of her. The would-be mugger was walking backwards, his arms spread in an effort to keep her from running away. He was ugly, quite possibly one of the ugliest men Chastity had ever seen, with an uneven face, a scarred and drooling mouth, and narrow eyes that made him look somewhat like an angry rodent. He held a small knife in his left hand and seemed to think he had the upper hand on the slimmer woman. After a few more steps he stopped and growled, “Empty your purse, dolly, or I will cut off that mask and pry out your pretty eyes!”
By way of answer Chastity spun and lashed out with her left foot. The heel of her boot caught him in the side of the head and he staggered backwards. She followed up with a roundhouse punch that dislocated his jaw and a heel kick that sent the groaning man into the gutter and the blissful arms of unconsciousness. He would likely recover in half an hour or so, but he would be eating soft foods for the rest of his life.
She turned and the remaining three muggers charged. Chastity quickly dispatched the first by ducking and sweeping his legs out from beneath him. While he moaned at the pain in his back, Chastity threw a handful of needle-like shuriken at the second, peppering his chest and neck with the minuscule darts. The incapacitating drops on the needles were just taking effect when Chastity drew her left pistol and covered the remaining assailant’s nose with the barrel. He stopped and crossed his eyes, trying to see the silver revolver mashed into his face.
“N…now miss,” he stammered. “We’s just common thieves, we weren’t really gonna hurt you!”
Chastity arched an eyebrow. “On the contrary, sir, you and your thug friends intended to beat and rape me in the
bushes of Hyde Park before taking all of my money and belongings and leaving me for dead. Your friend in the gutter was armed with a knife, the one at your feet was carrying a cosh, and the only reason the weapons you and your moaning friend carry cannot be called swords is it would be an insult to a smith.”
The thief tried to shake his head in denial, but the gun barrel up his nose made the movement painful.
“What you going to do wiv us?” the leader asked. “Kill us in cold blood?”
“Of course not!” Chastity said. “In spite of appearances I am not a common criminal such as you.”
Still looking the thief in the eyes, Chastity lowered her pistol. As the man breathed a sigh of relief, she squeezed the trigger and shot him through the leg, sending him tumbling to the gutter, a howl of pain erupting from his lips.
“On the other hand, I cannot exactly leave you to your own devices. That shot will bring the Bobbies who should recognize you from the wanted poster in the lobby of the Yard. I am certain they will know just what to do with you.”
With a grin, the young woman holstered her pistol and darted away down a narrow alley. She used a nearby drainpipe as a ladder and climbed to the top where she could see the show below. The thugs were thrashing about in the street trying to make an escape, but it was useless. The London police arrived in a matter of minutes and the thugs were hauled away almost as quickly, all the while screaming about a masked woman.
Chastity smiled and turned away, using the rooftops to return to Newgate where a mug of mulled cider and a good night’s sleep were waiting.
CHASTITY WAS AWAKENED at the crack of noon the following day by the sound of Malachi pounding on her chamber door like he was trying to knock it down. The young woman roused herself and opened the door, prepared to offer her opinion of Malachi’s malodorous behavior, but seeing the urgency in his face she settled for a simple frown.
“What is it?”