by Mark C. King
His sister’s building was not near any alley or side road, which would force Sigmund to be exposed along the sidewalk for thirty yards, at least, in each direction. But he had a plan for that. A few electric lamps dotted the street making for bright spots and shadows. The very occasional steam car gave some passing light, not enough that worried him – not for what he had in mind.
Sigmund had visited his sister’s so often, he knew the street well. That made it especially easy to spot the police constable standing across from her building. He had to be the lookout as a true constable wouldn’t remain in one place for so long.
Sigmund checked his watch, both out of habit and for a desire to look busy as if he was waiting for someone, so passersby wouldn’t be too suspicious of him standing alone on the corner. His overcoat helped keep the night chill out and its turned up collar helped keep his face hidden. The darkening of evening also provided some comfort, one of the few times that he almost felt normal, not overly worried about being recognized. Could this be how Stoker imagined his antagonist feeling during his nighttime exploits?
Looking down the cross street he spotted a few individuals walking towards him. He hoped one of them would turn down his Sister’s street. It wasn’t absolutely necessary for his plan to work but it would help. A gentleman walked by, Sigmund again looked at his watch and bid a perfunctory, “Good evening” and the man continued on with a nod – not going down his Sister’s street.
The next person, an older, heavy man with a large beard that made Sigmund think of a Russian bear was soon to pass. Sigmund again checked his watch and was surprised when the man stopped and looked at him. Sigmund was immediately worried he had been recognized, despite the dark he was still cognizant that his face was all over London papers and posted fliers. He continued to stare at his watch, refusing to make eye contact, wishing this bear to walk away.
In a deep, gravelly voice, with a French accent, not Russian, the bear said, “Pardon me, young man, I am looking for the Pierre Bistro, would you happen to know the way?”
Sigmund breathed an internal sigh of relief. He did know where the bistro was, having been there on occasion himself, and if the man continued down his present course, he would find it in a few blocks. However, Sigmund very much wanted the French bear to make a detour. Pointing down his sister’s street, he said, “Down this way to the next street, near Regents Park, turn right, go for two blocks, turn right again and it will be on your left.” The directions, if examined closely, would clearly outline a round-about approach, but when one is confused as to where they are going they will generally follow the directions without a big picture view.
The French bear looked down the street and said, “Ah! I didn’t think I was too far wrong. Thank you, monsieur.”
Sigmund responded with an exaggerated sneeze into his handkerchief – the sign he had prepared – and said to the bear, “No need for alarm, allergies.”
“Blasted nuisance, allergies.” The bear commiserated. “My wife can barely walk through her garden without being overcome with a sneezing fit. Well, then,” a nod, “goodnight monsieur.” The French bear walked past Sigmund heading down his Sister’s street.
Sigmund walked up next to the bear and asked, “Your wife, you are meeting her this evening?” He didn’t care, of course, but walking and having a conversation with a person would not draw much attention from the watchman.
The bear answered but Sigmund paid no attention, only giving nods and the occasional affirmative noise. His real attention was on the constable and his, hopefully soon, distraction. After only a few steps down the street, Sigmund spotted the diversion in the shape of three young, poorly dressed street urchins. It was young Timothy and a couple of his ragged friends. They ran up the street on the same side as the constable, opposite from Sigmund and the bear, and were making quite a noise. “Help! Help!”
“My sister! She fell, please help her!”
“She’s dead! She’s dead!”
The small troupe ran up to the constable, pulling at his coat, grabbing his belt, and all talking at once so it was difficult to even make out individual words.
Sigmund and the bear stopped their conversation and watched the spectacle. They could see the constable trying to shoo away the kids but his efforts only served to increase the kids pulling and screaming. To Sigmund’s great happiness, the bear called out to the constable, “Help the children! Elsewise, what good are you for?”
Sigmund could see, even from across the street, the indecision in the poor constable’s face. Amidst the pulling and yelling, the watchman finally relented and gave in to the kids pleas.
Sigmund continued to walk with the bear until the constable was out of sight, the kids having lured him around the corner. When in front of his sister’s home, he said to the bear, “My destination. Goodnight, sir, enjoy the bistro, may I recommend their crème brulee.”
“Au revoir.” said the bear.
Sigmund hurried up the stairs and entered the front door of the building. Once inside, the door firmly closed behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. Quietly, he walked over to his sister’s entrance and knocked lightly – loud enough for the occupants to hear but not loud enough to reach any neighbors. Listening, he heard movement and the Jamison’s voice, “Who is there?”
“Jamison, it’s me.” He whispered back, not wanting to say his name aloud.
A latch sounded and the door swung open, the sudden light irritating Sigmund’s eyes. Jamison spoke, “My word! What are you doing here? Come in, come in!”
From the kitchen area a voice called out, “Dear, who is it?” It was Alexis.
Jamison hesitated for a moment then said, “It’s… It’s your brother.” A commotion sounded from the kitchen, a dish breaking, and Alexis ran into the room and into Sigmund’s arms.
“Oh Sigmund, I’ve been so worried!” tears started to flow.
Sigmund held her for a long while, appreciating the comfort of her love. Eventually, despite the blissful safety he felt form her embrace, he broke away and looked at both Alexis and Jamison and with desperation in his face and words said, “Before anything else, I need you to know that I am innocent. I did not set that bomb. I did not kill anyone.”
To Sigmund’s surprise, Jamison spoke first, “Sigmund, we never questioned it for a moment. Rest assured of our belief in your innocence.”
A tremendous weight released from his heart. He knew their support was important to him but didn’t realize just how important it was until this moment. Alexis then added, “Oh Sigmund, did you really believe that we thought you capable of this?”
“I meant no offense but even I have to admit that the circumstances do paint a good picture for me. Thank you both. Without your support, I don’t think I would not want to continue on.”
Jamison put his hand on Sigmund’s shoulder and kindly said, “You have all the support that we can give. Please, sit down. Are you hungry? Do you need anything? Where have you been staying?”
They all walked to the sitting area, Alexis and Jamison placing themselves on a loveseat, while Sigmund took a comfortable chair, which, coincidentally, was the same setup as when they had asked Sigmund to steal something, the beginning point to the whole episode.
Remembering Jamison’s last question, Sigmund answered, “I think it is best to not tell you where I’m staying. Just know that I am safe.”
Alexis face did not seem to be satisfied but she did not press the issue further. She instead went to the heart of the matter, “Sigmund, how did all this happen?”
Sigmund went on to tell them the entire tale, leaving out particulars to protect Doctor Ferriss, and leaving Harry out of it too. He mentioned his theory about the Coal Union and about how he so far hadn’t been able to identify the dark stranger.
Alexis wiped her eyes with her handkerchief while Jamison put his arm around her, and she said, “It’s all our fault. We were the ones who asked you to steal something. If we hadn’t of bothered you with it... Oh, Sigmund, please forgiv
e us.”
“There is nothing to forgive. There was no way for you to know about the setup. If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else, likely. I sure wish is was someone else.”
They sat quietly for a couple minutes, all feeling poorly for different reasons. Jamison eventually broke the silence, “How can we help?”
“Knowing that you believe my innocence is all the help I want. It was the sole purpose for this visit. For without that, I would stop fighting. I can’t think of further help either of you could provide right now. Well, except for one thing. Allow me speak with Sarah. How is she doing?”
Alexis smiled, “Despite our best efforts, she is consumed by the whole affair. She pours through every newspaper trying to find out everything. She is worried about you very much.”
Sigmund didn’t want to ask but had to, “Does she think me guilty?”
Alexis responded with near anger, “Really, Sigmund! You have that little faith in your niece? She believes more than anyone in your innocence.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to assume. May I see her?”
Alexis nodded.
Sigmund got up from the couch and walked to Sarah’s room. The door was open just a crack. Slowly, Sigmund pushed in the door and saw her sleeping face bathed in the light from the hallway. He walked in quietly and kneeled next to her bed. With a kind whisper, he said, “Sarah. Wake up, Sarah.”
She stirred for a moment, then opened her eyes weakly. Blinking away the sleepiness she looked around for the source of her disturbance and locked eyes with Sigmund. “Uncle!” she cried and threw her arms around him. “Oh Uncle, I’ve been so worried!”
“I’m sorry to cause you worry. Believe me, it wasn’t my choice.”
Releasing him, she leaned back into her bed and looked at his face. She asked, “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I got a little banged up but I’m alright.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
“What happened?”
“From what I understand from your mom, you probably know better than me.”
Looking down at her covers, she said quietly, “They are saying awful things about you.”
“I know, but they are not true and that is what is most important.”
Sarah started to cry and while not looking up at Sigmund said, “I thought they killed you.”
“No no no, I’m right here, I’m fine.”
“I know, but I was so scared. The found a man hanging off the Tower Bridge last night, I was certain it was you.”
“Did you know before now that it wasn’t me?” Sigmund groaned inwardly to think that his niece had been mourning over his supposed death.
“No, I found out this afternoon. They identified the man and put in a picture. But for much of the day I was so frightened, uncle!”
They held each other again, reassuring one another. After releasing the second embrace, Sarah pointing to the end of her bed, she asked, “Hand me the stack of papers on the floor over there.”
Obediently, Sigmund walked to the end of the bed and found several newspapers on the floor.
“Mom doesn’t like me reading in here, says that I get ink on the covers.”
Bringing the stack over and placing it on the bed, Sigmund raised his eye brows and asked, “Do you?”
“Well, yes. But I can’t help it.” Sarah pushed aside some off the top and found the one she was searching for. After turning several pages she located the story, “Here.” She handed the paper to Sigmund and pointed at an article. “Marcus Pratt.”
Sigmund glanced at the paper, mostly to play along with his niece, but froze when he looked at the picture. The man that was found dead hanging off of Tower Bridge, this Marcus Pratt, was the dark stranger.
17.
Sigmund read the article to find out that the dark stranger, Marcus Pratt, was found dead, hanging off of the Tower Bridge with his mouth sown shut. Sigmund felt a slight elation at knowing the name of the stranger but was immediately crushed by the knowledge that his one and only lead was dead.
Sarah, able to tell that something was wrong, asked, “What is it uncle? Do you know him?”
Not wanting to burden her with too many details, he settled on, “I met him recently but never received his name.”
Hugging him again she said, “Well, I’m glad it wasn’t you.” He could feel the fear she had at the thought of losing him. A hug tighter and longer than normal, born of fear and the need to tangibly prove the life of her uncle.
“Me too.” He whispered and hugged her tightly back.
Releasing the hug Sigmund reluctantly told her he had to leave. He asked that she continue to read the paper and look for clues and that he would check in when he could.
“I promise, Uncle Sigmund. If I can help, you know I will.”
Sigmund smiled, “I do know it.”
Laying her head back on her pillow while Sigmund placed the newspapers back at the end of her bed, she said, “I love you, goodnight, goodnight, I love you.”
“Goodnight, I love you, I love you, goodnight.” Replied Sigmund and left the room.
Sigmund walked back to the sitting area with the one paper in hand. Alexis stood from her seat once she saw Sigmund’s face and with alarm asked, “What is wrong, Sigmund? Is Sarah alright?”
Sigmund nodded, handed over the paper opened to the article about Marcus Pratt, and said, “This is the man who visited me, the dark stranger who set me up.”
Jamison took the paper and read it over. He got increasingly agitated and turned to Alexis, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alexis looked confused, “Tell you what?”
Jamison shook his head slowly, “I… I know this man.”
“What?” exclaimed both Sigmund and Alexis.
Jamison stared at the paper, not reading, clearly thinking through something. Finally, he sighed and said, “Let’s sit down. We might be in more trouble than we know.”
Not moving, Sigmund demanded, “How do you know him?”
Jamison sat back heavily, practically falling into the love seat. “You can stand if you want but I need to sit. This is very bad.”
Sigmund was getting angry, “It has been ‘very bad’ for me for weeks! What suddenly makes it ‘very bad’ now? What do you know about that man?”
“Jamison, you’re scaring me.” Alexis said as she sat next to him and put her hand on his knee.
Jamison pointed to the plush chair across from him and said, “Sigmund…”
With his eyes firmly fixed on Jamison, Sigmund relented and sat. In a very cold, steady voice Sigmund said, “Jamison, you need to tell us what you are talking about. How do you know that man in the paper and why does it matter so much to you?”
There was a long pause as Jamison gathered his thoughts. “I told you about a man who had a family member that was crippled and that he knew of an Italian doctor who could help, who could also help Sarah. This is what led to us asking you to steal something in order to pay for this doctor.”
Sigmund nodded, nothing he didn’t already know.
With head lowered, Jamison continued, “That was a lie.”
“Jamison! Why?” screamed Alexis.
Sigmund wanted to ask that and much more. What happened to the pillar of morality that Sigmund always thought Jamison was? This white knight was showing rust. But he kept silent. He knew he needed to hear Jamison out as there had to be much more to the story.
Jamison, staring a hole in the floor, continued, “He needed help. The Empire needed help. Sarah needed help.”
Sigmund shifted in his seat and said, “Wait. So there is or is not an Italian doctor who can help Sarah? What exactly is the lie?”
“There is a man who believes he can help Sarah. He is not an Italian doctor, that was completely made up, but there is an engineer whose name is Richard Sutton.”
Sitting forward, elbows on knees, Sigmund shook his head and exclaimed, “Sutton! I’ve heard of him. He’s some sort of pioneer in physical movement or
something. An… associate I know told me of him.”
It was Jamison’s turn to be surprised, “You know of him? What have you found out?”
“Nothing really, just his name. I only heard of him recently, but I’ve been a bit distracted. Jamison, tell us what is going on.”
Jamison took a deep breath and began, “I can tell you what I know, but it’s likely that there are details outside of my privy. Richard Sutton works for the Academy of Future Science, he is their lead engineer, and by all accounts a brilliant man. More importantly, Sutton is the leader of a group resisting the war faction growing in the government. He became aware of the German Scientists and what they purported to have. It was not difficult to know that the faction would want the invention and use it to start their war. A war that could be on the greatest scale in history. Sutton had a few companions that he kept in his close confidence, Marcus Pratt being one of them, and he sought for ideas to make sure that this new invention did not fall into the wrong hands. Marcus and I had known each other since college and have kept in touch – time to time having a drink in the pub. Marcus was aware of Sarah and her condition and he was also aware of my unique brother-in-law.”