by JM Bannon
The waiter came by the table. “Would you like to see a menu, sir?”
“No, I ate earlier.” The guild master replied.
The waiter looked to Dolly. “Just the check when you get a chance,” he said in his hoarse voice. After the waiter left, Dolly continued. “It sure seems like you want her dead.”
“That’s where you’re confused, Detective. Your way is the way of more death. I see three paths. One, you capture her, and she will be tried, convicted and hanged. Two, she fights and dies during her apprehension, or three, she kills you and others in her escape. All paths have death at the end. You are the guide on her pathway to death. I, on the other hand ,only want her to stop practicing her craft where she detracts from our mastery of the metaphysical. I can be a guide to life. English justice may not be served, but others need not die and she could live in cloister with the necronists,” answered Saint -Yves.
The guild master’s words sunk into Dolly. He wanted the Voodooist in the Old Bailey, not for Moya and Chilton, but for Keane and himself. At the same tim,e he didn’t want to be back in that situation again of being powerless to the mystical. “You put me in a shitty spot, guild master. Get your team together and find Angelica Du Haiti, and make sure when you do, that you tell me so I can be there.”
“I will, Detective,” answered Gerard.
“I just can’t have some sorcerer turning us on each other,” replied Dolly.
“Rest assured, Detective. The decision to involve us is a sound one. You’re a fine officer of the law, but this woman works outside the bounds of earthly laws and physics. We are better equipped to stop her before another person is killed.”
“Guild master, just make sure you stay within the earthly bounds of commonwealth law, and we will be fine. If you find her, wire-type me and I will act immediately,” said Dolly.
* * *
6:30 PM, across the street from Silkwood & Company
The only way this would go well for Jimmy Lin was if the first time that Weng Lo heard about the heist was standing in front of his cut of the gold. That meant he had to keep his knowledge of his plans to a minimum until he was ready to act. Therefore, he was back to the boring low-level job of casing a joint. Jimmy needed the luster of a pile of gold on Weng Lo’s desk to cloud his boss’s memory of denying help to Sister Rose.
Jimmy would have eventually ended up at Silkwood & Company. Silkwood & Company was a nondescript building in the Hatton Garden area at the end of a T-intersection and not like the other jewelers with a storefront and display windows; it had no windows and a solid iron door. Silkwood was a jeweler's jeweler. They dealt in wholesale and did setting and work for the shops in the area. It was owned by the widow Silkwood, an old crone, but she had nothing to do with the business after her husband's death and left the shop to be managed by Simon Biel, a mild-mannered Hasidic gentleman that Jimmy and his ilk called Simon the Jew. He didn’t move stolen property but would rework stones and precious metals for a fee. That made Silkwood one of three places that Jimmy would have gone to, as they would take under the table work. Along with re-cutting stones and breaking down jewelry, they had a smelter for the melting of precious metals, and for a jeweler, it was a good-sized one. Jimmy didn’t need to run around looking because Trevor laid out how he was hired to paper the job to look like the gold was minted in Antwerp years ago then sat in a Venetian bank until sold to a trust, a trust managed by Chilton, Chilton, Owens and Strathmore. The re-struck gold would move back into the Chilton House vaults. Brilliant! Who would look for stolen gold in the place it was stolen from? The cops would be up and down the wharf looking for the bullion, and it would be home and hosed with a clean title right back where it was nicked from. That told Jimmy there was a partner or someone high up involved in the burglary. He liked this job. Nothing better than robbing a robber since they couldn’t call the cops, and in this case, the criminals were blue bloods. They had been amateurs in how they have been getting work done, not that they were stupid. On the contrary, this caper showed ingenuity. The difference was he was a professional outlaw, and they were not. They were making simple procedural errors that left bread crumbs for someone of his ilk to follow.
Jimmy pondered how events played out; someone at the Chilton bank knew about the gold and likely kidnapped old man Chilton to open the safe. They had to be a manager or some higher-up that understood what was required to deal with that amount of gold. This person also knew the likes of Trevor Conroy and Simon the Jew, not the type of folks you meet shooting quail with your high society friends. The part that puzzled Jimmy and made him a little worried was that the old man was killed by some kind of witch and Rose the witch lady wanted to get her.
He had met Rose's negro sorcerer. Walked right up to her door and knocked. Him being able to do this was another reason to think he was dealing with amateurs. They had hired Trevor to create travel papers for a Swiss national named Bertha Helstrom, rather than splitting the job between Trevor and another forger. Next upon completion, the travel papers were to be delivered to a certain address. Jimmy took it upon himself to be the delivery boy and chase down this lead. He brought the completed documents to the location, expecting it to be a drop and he would have to follow that person to the final destination. He almost shit himself when the door opened and an African woman answered the door. He played his charade as the Chinese delivery man. He even waited for a tip.
Jimmy snapped out of his daydreaming when a man walked up to the door of Silkwood’s. He had two loaves of bread, a pail of beer and some packages. He knocked on the door and was let in. The same guy had left about a half hour before. Jimmy surmised he was sent out for dinner as the crew was working round the clock to get the job done.
The job was a big one. They had four hundred pounds of gold to melt down and recast as 100-gram gold ingots. The equipment they had was some of the biggest in London, but it was meant for mainly doing fine jewelry work so they faced a capacity issue. Melting the gold guineas in the crucibles, casting the ingots and cooling time meant it had to be a twenty-four-hour operation with multiple men to get the job done as quickly as possible. Simon would want to turn this job around fast so he didn’t get nabbed with the stolen property.
Now Jimmy needed to get a guy inside.
Friday the 25th of June
8:00 PM, Rose Caldwell’s Rooms
Rose was at her desk with notes Preston had written to help with translation of the Chronicles of Ulric and the Liber Loagaeth, both borrowed from Preston's extensive collection. She mouthed the words of the Enochian language while staring at a looking glass and attempting to get the pronunciation of the angelic language correct.
The was a knock at the door.
Rose walked over to it, still practicing a word’s pronunciation as she unlocked the door to let in the visitor.
It was Jimmy Lin.
"Come in, Jimmy."
Jimmy was alone, and that was rare. He was usually accompanied by at least one enforcer.
The thin Chinese native was smartly dressed, only the finest for Jimmy Lin. His attire was striking high-end business man, not the dandy fashion.
“To what do I owe the pleasure to, Jimmy?”
Jimmy alighted his narrow frame down onto a threadbare overstuffed chair. "To repay my debt. You are not going to believe this shit, witch lady. Well, maybe you will. Your life is a circus sideshow after all. I got a line on the gold and your Voodoo princess. I wanted to provide you with the address and let you know that she is traveling as Bertha Helstrom to Halifax Nova Scotia on Sunday afternoon." He took out a slip of paper from inside his glove and held it out for Rose to come get.
She snatched the slip of paper from his grasp and looked at it.
“You know where that is, witch lady?"
“Yes, I do,” she answered while thinking about the address.
"Bet you don't get over there much?" Jimmy said.
"You would be surprised, Jimmy. Hey, I have a lot going on. Is there anything else?"
>
"What's all this shit for?"
"Well, Jimmy, this is what you would call an Eldritch laboratory and workshop. I do research and figure out how to use arcana to stop bad stuff from happening to good people. For example, right now I'm working on a spell to dispose of sarcastic gangsters," said Rose, arms crossed with all of her weight on her back foot.
Jimmy looked around. "You’re funny, witch lady. You able to open locks, things like that?”
"Why, did you lose your keys?"
“Not exactly. See I was just wondering. Let's say that I needed to unbolt a door. Maybe you could use some of this hocus pocus to open up a lock.” Jimmy stood up and started wandering around, looking at her menagerie of equipment and touching things.
"Jimmy, Thanks for the address. Is there anything else?"
"No, just looks like you could use more income, and you did tip me off on the gold, so you are already an accessory, you know… If you could make this easier, you could, I don't know maybe upgrade to a flat with windows and gaslight,” said Jimmy.
"Thanks for the offer, but I already have enough enemies. I don't need to acquire more," she said, looking to the door.
He picked up a relic, a silver object in the shape of a skull featuring a glass top so you could see inside. Jimmy saw when he looked inside it that it was an actual skull that had been gilded in silver and in the skull cavity were glyphs and loose items, a feather and what looked like a finger bone. “What the fuck is this? Some guy’s noggin?”
Rose grabbed it from him. “That is an ancient relic, the skull of a saint. When I learn the summoning, I can use this to call upon the angel Ariel, the lion of God, to assist me.”
“Looks like it’s worth a bob or two?” said the gangster.
“It’s priceless.” Rose placed it back in its wooden case and closed the box.
“You’re not worried about people nicking your priceless items, are you? This dismal neighborhood is full of criminals,” Jimmy asked.
“Most people are scared of me, think I’m devil-sent. They don’t know what I have and worry that I’ll curse them if they cross me,” answered Rose.
Jimmy smiled. “Yeah, that’s good. Real good. Nothing scarier than the fears people make up all on their own.” Jimmy walked to the door and turned before he left. “You aren't planning on seeing Weng Lo in the next few days, are you?”
"No,” said Rose. “Good, I don't need him knowing what I am up to until it's done," answered Jimmy.
“Your secret's safe with me."
“I know. Anyway, you had best get moving. Your girlfriend Bertha is going to Nova Scotia on Sunday. You better get on her social calendar real quick.” He laughed at his own joke as he left the flat. "Ta ta, witch lady.”
* * *
7:55 PM, Meadhurst Manor
Detective Williamson had arrived in the late afternoon at Holbrook, the closest train station to Meadhurst, a four-hour train ride from London. At the station, the Meadhurst chauffeur was on the platform to collect Dolly and his bags for the long drive to the manor house. Upon his arrival, his host was unavailable. He took some time to walk the gardens near the house and take in a short nap.
Anytime he closed his eyes, he risked reliving the ordeal with Keane. Initially, he replayed the scene to see if he could have forced an alternative outcome where Keane survived. Other times, he would doze off and his nightmares would return, mingling events from his past. Rather than Keane, it was now Father Milton strangling him or Keane being burned alive, looming and laughing at him with the top of his head missing.
Now Dolly was awake and preparing for a dinner with one of the richest men in England. He looked at himself in the mirror. His nose felt like it was finally healing, but both eyes had turned a deep purple. The valet handed him his pocket watch. He examined the pen knife and amulet he had attached to the fob. He tucked them in his waistcoat pocket. Out of habit, he popped open the worn case of his watch, gave the knob a twist to keep tension on the watch spring and glanced at the time. When he read the time of 7:55 PM, it hurt more than his nose or his throat, for around this time on a Friday he and Keane would be out on the town sharing tales and drinks. This was his first Friday night without his friend.
What a difference from two days ago, when Dolly was covered in soot and fighting for his life. Now he was a guest of Sir Lester Chilton at the family manor, Meadhurst. He stood in front of a full-length mirror having another man help him dress. He was happy for the help from the valet. He didn’t want to stuff anything up and peppered the valet with questions regarding social formality and manners.
“Mr. Williamson, you will do fine. Sir Lester and his family are the salt of the earth, and they take no benefit in making you feel foolish,” said the valet. “I appreciate it very much, Mr. Walker,” said Dolly.
“I will mention it to Helmsley, the butler, to keep an eye on you so you don’t pick up the wrong spoon.” Both men chuckled at Walker’s joke.
“I need all the help I can get. I’m just a common Scot earning a wage, not used to all this ceremony,” said Dolly.
“You can repay me by catching the villain that murdered Sir Francis. There, you are all ready,” Walker said as he finished brushing lint off the jacket. “You can make your way down the stairs, where Helmsley will get you a drink. Most of the family will congregate in the parlor with the other guests just before dinner,” said the valet.
Dolly thought he could use a drink and made his way downstairs to meet his host.
Helmsley was at the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. Williamson, Sir Lester would like you to join him in the parlor,” said Helmsley.
“Excellent. Show me the way.” The butler led Dolly down a long hall that echoed with the two men’s footsteps. At the end, he knocked then opened the door, stepping in ahead of Dolly to announce his arrival. “Sir Lester Chilton, your guest has arrived, Detective Sergeant Williamson.”
“Thank you, Helmsley. That will be all,” said the young baronet. “Detective, can I fix you a whiskey?”
“I’d love one, Sir Lester,” replied the detective.
Sir Lester made his way over to the drink cart and filled two glasses from a crystal decanter. “I’d love one also, but don't tell anyone. This will be my second.” Lester’s levity lightened Dolly and made him feel a little less like a fish out of water. "Do you know the purpose of the butler’s introduction when you enter the room?” Lester asked as he handed Dolly the glass.
"Thank you. I guess so everyone knows the importance of each man in the room?"
Lester let out a belly laugh. “It's a courtesy to help everyone remember names in these social occasions,”
“Here’s to better days."
“Cheers,” said Dolly, taking a drink. “Mm... This is very smooth.”
“It’s the peat. They filter the whiskey through,” said Lester as he held up the tumbler to the light and looked through the amber liquor.
“Your home is splendid.” Dolly was at a loss as to what else to say.
“Thank you. Meadhurst has been in the family for two hundred years. It was just two years ago that I persuaded my father to update the place. We have our own steam engine and generate electricity through a dynamo attached to it. That powers all the arc lights on the property. We have a type-wire line and voice lines within the house.” Sir Lester sat down on a sofa perpendicular to the massive hearth and signaled with his hand to the opposite sofa. “Please have a seat.” Dolly sat across from Chilton and set his glass on the low table between them.
“I so do appreciate you coming up here to meet with me. I wanted to talk with you about—”
Helmsley opened the door again. “Sir Lester, Mr. Randall Strathmore and Lady Anne Chilton and Lady Margret Chilton.”
As the trio entered, Sir Lester whispered to Dolly, “After dinner, I would like us to meet in my study. I have something I would like to share with you in private.” He then changed the volume of his speech. “Detective Williamson, this is my wife, Lady Anne, and my sis
ter, Lady Margret.”
“And we have already met. Good to see you again, Detective,” said Randall.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Strathmore,” replied Williamson. He was unaware of Strathmore’s attendance.
“As the rude Yankee, I will ask what the ladies are thinking. What happened to your face, sir?”
Dolly laughed. “I hope it won’t put you off your meal.”
“Oh no, sir, but it looks so very painful,” said Lady Anne.
“What really hurts, and you will have to excuse the hoarse voice, is my throat,” shared Dolly.
“I was on the scene at the Baden Gaswerks explosion, and there was an altercation between myself and another man. I would rather not share the gory details in mixed company.”
Lady Anne implored. “Don’t spare us. We sneak into the penny dreadfuls when in London. It’s quite a rush to hear it from the front lines”
Dolly was not going to share what happened. It was too gruesome and fresh. “Ladies, I came out a little worse for wear, but let me say the whole scene was horrific. with hundreds killed in the blast and more injured. Rest assured that we will find the perpetrators and bring them to justice.”
“I hope that it won’t take you away from finding our father’s killer,” interjected Lady Margret.
A bell rang.
“Ah, dinner is ready for us,” said Sir Lester.
A footman opened the pocket doors, and the group followed Sir Lester to the dining room.
Sir Lester sat at the head of the table. His left was reserved for Detective Williamson. To Dolly’s left was Lester’s sister, Margret, and across from Lester, at the foot of the table. was Lady Anne. Between Ann and Lester and directly across from Dolly, Randall Strathmore took his seat.
“Randall, what is this I hear of you leaving?” asked Lady Anne.