The Requiem Collection: The Book of Jubilees, More Anger than Sorrow & Calling Babel: Novel Set

by Eric Black

  “Of course. I’m happy to assist.”

  The two accompanying officers folded the bag around the body and loaded the body into the carriage. Jack and Phillips watched the carriage’s return to the East End until it disappeared around a bend in the road. When it was gone, Phillips looked at Jack. “Shall we?”

  “Indeed, we shall.”

  Both men pulled their cloaks tighter against the wind as they walked towards the Golden Goose. As they walked, Phillips kept thinking back to the feeling he had inside Jack’s office. He hadn’t noticed at first but as they walked he recalled how smoothly Jack had transitioned the conversation from Jack the Ripper to ending the inspection and then to the Golden Goose. Again, he had no reason to suspect Jack of anything but the feeling in his gut was still there.

  The Golden Goose was three blocks from Jack’s office. At the entrance to the pub, Jack held the door for Phillips but Phillips insisted that Jack go first. Jack entered the doorway and had to duck to avoid hitting the upper doorframe with his head. For the first time, Phillips noticed how tall Jack was. He has to be the tallest person I have ever seen. He looked down in the snow at Jack’s footprints. The print was vast.

  He followed Jack inside of the Golden Goose and the two approached the bar. It was obvious that Jack was a regular as many of the men inside knew him, including the bartender.

  “Morning, Charles,” Jack said to the bartender.

  “Good morning, Jack,” the bartender replied. “You’re in a little early today aren’t you?”

  Jack smiled. “It’s never too early for ale, my good man.” Jack turned and looked back at Phillips. “Charles, may I present to you Dr. Bagster Phillips with Scotland Yard.”

  Phillips removed his cap at the introduction and moved to the bar, shaking hands with Charles.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Charles said to Phillips. “You do not have an envious job but I for one appreciate your willingness to take such employment. You are to be commended for the work that you undertake daily.”

  Phillips bowed and thanked Charles for his kind compliment.

  “Two warmed ales please, Charles.” Jack said to the bartender after the introductions were complete. Charles winked at Jack and then Jack led Phillips to the back of the pub near the roaring fireplace.

  The Golden Goose was thinly populated that particular morning and Jack was able to find two chairs next to the fire. Between the chairs was a medium sized table upon which Charles set the warmed ales.

  The two men sipped their ale in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of both the ale and the fire. “Nothing quite like fire and ale, eh?” Jack asked Phillips breaking the silence.

  “Indeed not,” Phillips said. He took a moment to look around the room of the pub. “This is a fine pub. I have not had the pleasure of visiting before but I have heard others speak of this place.”

  “To the Golden Goose,” Jack said, raising his glass in a toast.

  “To the Golden Goose,” Phillips repeated raising his glass as well. Then, both men drained their glasses.

  They set the empty mugs on the table and Jack looked at Phillips. “Would you like another? After all, it is your coin.”

  Phillips shrugged indicating why not?

  Jack called out to Charles and when he had Charles’ attention, he pounded on the table twice. Charles nodded and drew two more pints.

  As they waited for the ale to arrive, Jack turned and looked into the fire. Jack had done nothing unusual but something about Jack caused Phillips to stop and take a better look. Jack’s profile caught his attention.

  Jack didn’t notice the stare and Phillips took a good look. Something from his past came to him but then fled. It nearly came to him again but before it returned, Charles arrived with the ale.

  “I assume you’re running a tab?” Charles asked directing his question at Jack. Jack smiled at what was apparently an inside joke and he nodded at Phillips.

  “Yes, I would like to run a tab,” Phillips replied.

  Charles pointed his finger mockingly at Jack, at which Jack laughed.

  Jack took a sip of his ale and then turned his attention back to the fire as Charles returned to the bar. Jack assumed that Phillips was watching the glowing embers and paid him no attention.

  As Phillips peered at Jack, his mind was drawn back to a certain night many years ago. At first he couldn’t place the night or the location but then suddenly it came to him. As he was looking at Jack, he saw the same profile he had seen nine years ago at the police station. It was the same night that the mystery man had appeared and disappeared twice in front of him. Phillips took a minute to make sure and then he was sure.

  As that night flooded back to him, he remembered the large shoe print he found not only in the station that night but also the print near the home of Mary Kelly the night of her murder. Jack had very large feet.

  He also thought on Jack’s unique skills as a doctor. Jack’s use of the medical equipment was done with precision and a steady hand. His gut told him that Jack would possess similar surgical skills.

  It was then that what Jack had said earlier struck him: Jack had mentioned that one of the body parts of the victims had been mailed to the police station. This was true but this information had not been shared with the public. So how did Jack know that? Could he have learned it from an officer that he treated? He wasn’t entirely sure.

  Ten years prior, there was a man who had disappeared during his attempted arrest. Phillips remembered not believing the account from the officers at the time. But since that moment was so unique, Phillips recalled the description of the man they attempted to arrest. Looking back, he realized the description matched the description of Jack.

  At that moment, he had only loose evidence and the virgin idea was only just becoming real but he knew he was drinking ale with Jack the Ripper.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  London, England – October 1888

  Phillips couldn’t explain what he had just seen. Then again, maybe what he saw explained everything.

  He was in the filing room probing through the personal belongings of Liz Stride and it was late. He turned his back only for a moment, walking across the room for an item, when he witnessed something unintended: one moment, there was only a table with the belongings of Liz; the next moment, a man appeared next to the table.

  Phillips didn’t recognize the man and hadn’t heard him enter. Phillips was mostly concealed by the shadows the room (the only source of light was from the lantern on the table) and he went unnoticed by his visitor. Phillips started to step out from the gloom and address the man when something inside of him told him to stay silent and hidden.

  He watched as the man reached down and collected all of the items on the table. This was more than Phillips could take as an officer of the law and he started forward but as he did, the man and all of the items disappeared – not walked out of the room but disappeared. A moment later, the man reappeared with all of the items. As he reappeared he spread the items back across the table. Then, the man disappeared again and did not return.

  Phillips stood motionless for quite some time, unsure of what he just observed. He was not sure that he actually saw anything. He blinked a few times to wipe the image from his mind but didn’t work. The image of the man appearing and reappearing was emblazoned upon him. Am I coming down with illness? I’ve been rather hard at it. Perhaps I have not taken as good care as I should have of myself over these past weeks.

  Or perhaps, he said to himself half-serious, there is a phantom stalking the station. He considered the idea of a phantom for a moment. If I believe there is a phantom in the station then I must be mad. He knew there must be a rational explanation but he couldn’t think of an elucidation at that moment.

  He walked nervously back over to the table. At first, he was hesitant to look too closely but realized he was being foolish and picked up one of the items. On that particular item, it appeared something had been scraped away. />
  He picked up another item and noticed there was a white powder that had not been there before. He was uncertain as to what all of this meant. While it was possible that he was exhausted and therefore saw a man appear and disappear, it was not possible that one moment the items before him were untouched and another moment the items were altered.

  Phillips left the items where they lie and picked up the lantern. He sat the lantern on the floor and then got down on his hands and knees and examined the floor carefully. He was not sure for what he was looking; he was playing a hunch.

  He was about to stand when he saw something. In the area where he had seen the man standing, there was a wet imprint of a shoe. The outline was very faint but it was there. It was unlike anything he had seen before. Rather than a heel and sole, the shoe appeared to be solid and rather than a square toe, the toe was rounded. In fact, the entire shoe was contoured, similar to the shape of an actual foot. Within the imprint was a series of wavy lines that interconnected with one another.

  Before the wet imprint could disappear, Phillips rushed to grab a sheet of paper and set the paper on top of the shoeprint. He lifted the paper carefully and saw that the shoe imprint was fully visible. He knew that the water would soon dry on the paper so he went back to the desk and took out a bottle of blue marking powder. He sprinkled the powder on the paper, let it set for a moment and then gently shook the excess powder off the page. What was left was a blue impression of the shoeprint.

  He filed the shoeprint with other documentation and thought back to the strange man. The man had been tall and stocky and his clothes had been very unusual – made of a simple dark cloth that clinched the man’s body at his neck, waist, hands, and ankles. He tried to picture the man’s face in his mind but the man had appeared and disappeared so quickly. Coupled with his own shock, he couldn’t conjure the face.

  Could he be some sort of magician? he asked himself. He didn’t believe in magic personally but he had been erroneous before. He wasn’t sure if the man was a magician or not but something inside of him told him that, however improbable, he was on to something.

  He thought on the man longer and began to recall some of the statements of people interviewed after the murders. Several people had mentioned seeing a man in the area that was outsized. Then, a new thought came to him. Was that the Ripper?

  The thought worried him. If the man was the elusive killer, he had an advantage unlike other men. At least it would explain how he is able to kill at will undetected in a matter of minutes and then disappear, he thought.

  He picked the lamp off the floor and set it back on the table. When he was done putting each of Liz Stride’s items away, he blew out the lantern and walked out of the police station to catch a late dinner and determine what must be done.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  London, England – December 1897

  Jack noticed Phillips watching him intently. Jack started to speak but something in Phillips’ face warned him against saying anything. It had been a risky endeavor to accompany Phillips to the Golden Goose but the gentlemen that existed in him (at least in public) called for the encounter.

  On a number of occasions, he had the notion that Phillips was on to him but then Phillips would change the subject leaving Jack with a paranoid disposition. This time was different. He knows, Jack said to himself.

  Jack thought quickly on what he would do next. He had established a fine life in 19th Century London and was content to live out the rest of his life there. Now that was in jeopardy. I could disappear. And when Phillips leaves the pub, I’ll drag him into the alley and slit his throat, Jack thought. The longer he waited for Phillips to react the more superior he thought this idea. He didn’t receive the opportunity to test it.

  To his surprise, Phillips asked him a question. “Will the snow return tonight?” Jack wasn’t prepared for such an awkward question and as it rolled through his mind, his thought slipped from time travel.

  Phillips deliberately used the question as a distraction and the ruse worked. He saw confusion pass across Jack’s face and used that moment to act. He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and leveled it at Jack’s chest. He could have killed Jack but wanted Jack alive so he could question him.

  Jack knew Phillips wanted him alive and instead of surrendering, he reached down hastily and pulled a burning log from the fire. He burned his hand but barely noticed. With one fluid motion, Jack hurled the flaming log across the table at Phillips. Phillips ducked just in time and Jack used that as an occasion to run towards the exit.

  Phillips recovered and located Jack running towards the door. Phillips yelled at Jack to stop but Jack kept running. Phillips had no choice – he squeezed off a shot and the bullet hit Jack in the back. Phillips had aimed for Jack’s shoulder, just enough to slow him and perhaps knock him to the floor so that he could catch him but at the last moment, Jack had twisted and Phillips shot hit the middle of Jack’s back.

  Jack fell face-first and Phillips rushed to his side, rolling him over. The exit wound in Jack’s upper right chest was bleeding copiously. Phillips cursed. He turned to Charles who stood behind the bar with a stunned expression. “Go get the police!” Phillips commanded Charles.

  Charles stood there motionless and it took a second command for him to snap out of it and do as he was instructed.

  Phillips turned his attention back to Jack whose life was slowly bleeding out of him. Phillips cursed again. He needed Jack alive so that he could find out more details. Was he really the Ripper? If Jack died on the floor of the Golden Goose, the true identity of the Ripper would always be shrouded.

  Phillips took off his cloak and placed it under Jack’s head. Then, he took off his outer jacket, folded it and pressed it into Jack’s open wound. It was not the best dressing but it was all he had at his disposal.

  Phillips grasped that Jack was fading rapidly. He knew he didn’t have much time to gather information before Jack died. “Are you the Ripper?” Phillips asked.

  Jack didn’t answer.

  “Are you the Ripper?” Phillips repeated louder.

  Again, Jack didn’t answer and Phillips screamed the question in Jack’s face a third time.

  This time, Jack responded by smiling weakly. As he did, he coughed and blood appeared on his pale lips.

  Phillips prepared to ask Jack the same question a fourth time when Jack went into a coughing fit. The fit turned violent and Jack’s entire body shook.

  Phillips heard a noise behind him and he turned and saw that Charles had returned with two uniformed officers. They looked to him for answers but instead Phillips diverted his attention back to Jack. He watched helplessly as Jack gave one final cough before laying his head back. A long breath escaped.

  Phillips looked at Jack and waited for something else to happen. Nothing did. Phillips reached down and checked Jack’s pulse but did not feel one. He cursed again, this time out loud. It was too late. Jack was dead; and with him the secret of Jack the Ripper.

  Phillips ordered the body taken to the station for autopsy. There, Phillips ordered the body of Jack onto the table and cleared the room. He turned his back to make preparations for the autopsy but when he turned back around to begin, he discovered something that should have surprised him but didn’t. The table was empty. Jack’s body had disappeared.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chattanooga, Tennessee – June 2124

  Jack woke up in the hospital. He did not know exactly what year it was but he did know that he was alive. He had lost a lot of blood after being shot by Phillips and had lost so much that his body went into shock. His pulse became very weak as he neared death.

  Phillips could have detected the pulse if he had not been so emotionally involved. Jack smiled weakly. His breathing was so shallow that it was barely discernible. He had passed out due to blood loss and shock and when Phillips didn’t detect Jack’s feeble pulse, Phillips pronounced Jack’s death.

  Jack remained unconscious as he was placed on the autopsy ta
ble at the police station. It was not true unconsciousness and a moment after Jack was laid on the table, his awareness transitioned from darkness to a world of indistinct shapes and subdued sounds. The transition was only momentary and he was on the verge of passing out again when something inside of him pressed to maintain consciousness. Perhaps it was the inner-desire to survive. That most basic of instinct kept him conscious long enough to remember that he could travel through time.

  Jack didn’t know where he would go. He thought back to his old life. In that world there were doctors that could fix him, keep him alive. But also in that world was Jasper. He wouldn’t risk being discovered.

  He focused on one of the hospitals in Chattanooga but deliberated a time one hundred years in the future. He didn’t know if the hospital or even Chattanooga would still be there but he did know if he stayed in London, he would die.

  The next thing he remembered was waking up in a white room surrounded by unfamiliar machines. He waited for his eyes to adjust and when they did, he attempted to sit up. He grunted and managed only to raise his head; the effort provided him the knowledge that he was in a hospital. A screen on the wall revealed the date to him: June 8, 2124. Jack smiled and then groaned at the pain in his shoulder.

  “You shouldn’t be trying to sit up,” he heard a voice say.

  Jack looked and saw a nurse rushing towards him. “Where am I?” he asked.

  “You’re in a hospital.”

  Jack nodded his head. “How long have I been here?”

  “You’ve been here for about an hour. You lost a lot of blood. The surgery was successful and we should have you out of here in about thirty minutes,” the nurse replied.

  In and out in less than two hours for a gunshot wound? Jack said to himself. He looked at the nurse. There was a soothing quality to her and he could tell she cared about her work and her patients.