The Charnel House in Copperfield Street

by Tim Ellis

  Blood and slime ran down the walls, blacked out the windows and inched across the floor.

  Regina Humblin was naked and held spread-eagled half-way up the far wall, but she didn’t look like the woman he knew. Her hair was covered in dripping green vomit; her shoulder joints had been twisted to an impossible angle; her feet were facing backwards; and what looked like a chair leg protruded from her vagina.

  Projectile vomit spewed out of Regina’s mouth and drenched both Rummage and Quigg.

  Rummage stepped towards the abomination and began speaking in what Quigg guessed was Latin. She held her jewelled cross up and threw Holy Water at the body as she spoke:

  Sancte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio contra nequítiam et insídias diáboli esto præsídium. Imperet illi Deus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, princeps milítiæ cæléstis, Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in mundo, divína virtúte, In inférnum detrude.

  Amen

  Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our defence against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

  Amen

  ‘Is it working, Jezebel? Do you see me quaking with fear? Is the water burning my flesh? Is the be-jewelled cross making me gibber like an idiot?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Quigg shouted.

  He flew backwards through the air and was pinned against the wall by the side of the door.

  ‘Be gone you puny human. This is between Jezebel the whore and me – her lord, her master and her lover. She is mine. Speak no more to me.’

  He tried to speak, but found to his horror that his mouth didn’t work anymore. Some back-up he’d turned out to be. He tried to wriggle off the wall, but it was as if he’d been stuck there with superglue.

  ‘Let me see you naked, Jezebel.’

  Rummage’s cassock began to tear every which way and then it fell away from her and onto the floor. She didn’t flinch, even though she was naked underneath the robe.

  ‘You think you can frighten me with your tattooed Hebrew symbols? I’m still here, whore.’

  She began reciting more prayers.

  Items in the room began flying about; Regina began to scream and convulse; and her head twisted all the way around at least half-a-dozen times.

  Rummage moved closer, placed the cross on Regina’s forehead and sprinkled holy water on her flesh.

  In the Name of Jesus Christ,

  our God and Lord,

  strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary,

  Mother of God,

  of Blessed Michael the Archangel,

  of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints.

  and powerful in the holy authority of our ministry,

  we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil.

  Behold the Cross of the Lord, flee bands of enemies.

  The Lion of the tribe of Juda, the offspring of David, hath conquered.

  We drive you from us,

  whoever you may be,

  unclean spirits,

  all satanic powers,

  all infernal invaders,

  all wicked legions,

  assemblies and sects.

  God the Father commands you.

  God the Son commands you.

  God the Holy Ghost commands you.

  Christ, God's Word made flesh, commands you;

  He who to save our race outdone through your envy,

  humbled Himself,

  becoming obedient even unto death;

  He who has built His Church on the firm rock

  and declared that the gates of hell shall not prevail against Her,

  because He will dwell with Her all days even to the end of the world.

  The sacred Sign of the Cross commands you,

  as does also the power of the mysteries of the Christian Faith.

  The glorious Mother of God, the Virgin Mary, commands you;

  she who by her humility

  and from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception crushed your proud head.

  The faith of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul,

  and of the other Apostles commands you.

  The blood of the Martyrs

  and the pious intercession of all the Saints command you.

  Thus, cursed dragon, and you, diabolical legions,

  we adjure you by the living God,

  by the true God,

  by the holy God,

  by the God

  who so loved the world that He gave up His only Son,

  that every soul believing in Him

  might not perish but have life everlasting;

  stop deceiving human creatures

  and pouring out to them the poison of eternal damnation;

  stop harming the Church and hindering her liberty.

  Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,

  enemy of man's salvation.

  From the snares of the devil,

  Deliver us, O Lord.

  Amen

  A black seething mass exited through Regina’s mouth and hovered just below the ceiling.

  ‘Don’t think you’ve won, Jezebel the whore. It is merely a delay of the inevitable. One day you’ll submit to me, and then you’ll be mine forever.’

  Then the black mass that was the demon Surgat disappeared through the roof.

  Rummage collapsed in a heap.

  Both Quigg and Regina slid down the wall onto the floor.

  Everything in the room had been destroyed. It was as if a tornado had come and gone.

  Quigg hurried to Rummage, shrugged out of his duffel coat and wrapped it around her. He had to be careful, because there were the ends of two wooden paint brushes protruding from her left leg and a pallet knife buried deep in her abdomen.

  He went to the door and shouted down, ‘Call for an ambulance, Duffy.’

  ‘Okay. Are you all right, Sir?’

  ‘I’m fine, but Rummage and Regina aren’t looking too good. Bring a couple of blankets up as well, will you?’

  He went to Regina.

  She was unconscious, which was hardly surprising considering her injuries. He wanted to remove the chair leg from her vagina, but he was aware that it might cause more damage, so he left it where it was.

  Duffy appeared with the blankets.

  He wrapped one around Regina and carried her downstairs to the sofa in the living room.

  He then returned to the attic.

  Taking his duffel coat back, he wrapped the second blanket around Rummage and carried her downstairs as well.

  Duffy followed.

  The ambulance arrived after a handful of minutes, the paramedics came in and took Rummage and Regina away to Guys Hospital.

  ‘I’ll follow you in my car,’ Quigg said to Rummage.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Has the builder gone, Duffy?’ he asked her.

  ‘Two hours ago. You were in that room for over three hours. It’s quarter past eight now.’

  ‘Goodness! You’re not staying here on your own, are you?’

  ‘Is that likely, Sir?’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it is. Lock the place up tight and go home. I’ll make sure Rummage and Regina are all right, contact Mister Humblin and Mrs Morpeth, and then I’ll be coming home myself.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He kissed her on the lips. ‘Good work in there Duffy.’

  ‘And you, Sir.’

  ‘Sadly, I’d have been more use going for fish and chips.’

  Aftermath

  Thursday, November 9

  ‘Hello, Ruth,’ the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Charles Rowan said. ‘I’m glad you called. I hope you have good news for me?’

  ‘I have a number of conditions for you.’

  She’d f
inally sat down with Quigg, Duffy, Lucy, Dennis and Nate at eleven o’clock last night and told them what Sir Charles Rowan had said.

  In the end, everyone agreed that she should take the job and tackle the police corruption from the inside. No one would be arrested, Quigg would keep his job and the children wouldn’t be taken into care.

  Lucy was the least happiest. She wanted to call her father and ask him to go and kill the Police Commissioner immediately, but Quigg convinced her that she’d killed enough people.

  Sir Charles grunted. ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

  ‘If you try to sweep the police corruption under the carpet, I will publish all the confessions on the internet.’

  ‘I’ve already said, there’ll be no whitewashing. As head of the investigation you’ll have complete autonomy. There’s no hidden agenda. As I also said, I have a covert team who have all been vetted my me. They’ll be yours to command. Once you’re in position, they’ll take orders from you, not me.’

  ‘Do you know about the lunchtime Board Meetings in the Chives dining room in the Gherkin?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There are people involved at the highest level. We were going to livestream that meeting directly onto the internet today, but that won’t happen now.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘But you should also know that there are people who live outside the country who are involved.’

  ‘UK citizens?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I look forward to working with you, Ruth. Email me your list of conditions. I’m sure there won’t be any problems. And come in and see me tomorrow morning, and we’ll thrash out the details of your employment before you begin on Monday.’

  ***

  He arrived at the hotel in plenty of time to run DS Hawking to the station. It was the least he could do for finding his son and daughter. Who’d have thought Phoebe was right on his doorstep all along. Of course, she’d need some serious psychological repair work, but she was young and she was surrounded by loving people. She seemed to have taken a shine to Lucy, which didn’t really seem to be a good idea, but he was sitting on the fence about it for now.

  He knocked on the door of room number 894, saw the eye viewer go dark and then the door opened.

  DS Lindsey Hawking was wearing a sheer negligee, matching briefs and she smelled of soap and almonds.

  ‘Oh!’ He turned away. ‘You’re not ready yet. Sorry. I’m slightly early anyway. I’ll wait downstairs in reception for you, shall I?’

  ‘No – come in.’

  ‘In there? With you? Dressed like that? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He went inside, but tried to keep his eyes averted. There was a stirring between his legs. Maybe he should have insisted that he wait in reception. And anyway, why wasn’t she ready? Why was she dressed like that? Why had she asked him in? What was going on?

  ‘I’m a lesbian.’

  ‘Of course, that explains everything, Sergeant.’ He was being sarcastic – it explained nothing.

  ‘I have a partner.’

  ‘I’m happy for you, but why are you prancing about nearly naked in front of me like a nymph if you’re a lesbian with a partner?’

  Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. ‘We’ve run out of money.’

  ‘And you want me to pay you for getting my son and daughter back? Well, I have a bit . . .’

  ‘No, no. We’ve been paying for in-vitro fertilisation, but the three times we’ve tried, it hasn’t worked. Each time, with everything that’s involved, it’s cost us around ten thousand pounds. Not only have we run out of money, but we also owe twenty thousand pounds.’

  ‘I see.’ He didn’t see at all.

  ‘DI Peters said you’d reward me if I got your son back.’

  ‘Reward you! So you do want paying?’

  ‘Yes, but not with money.’

  The penny dropped. ‘Ah! But you’re a lesbian.’

  ‘I wasn’t always one. I’ve been with men before. I know what to do and how it goes.’

  ‘And you think I can get you pregnant?’

  ‘DI Peters said you were unusually fertile.’

  ‘Did she now?’ He didn’t know about that. Just because he had a few children under his belt, it didn’t mean he could work miracles on barren women.’

  ‘Well, I suppose, seeing as you did find and rescue two of my children, I can try and give you a child of your own . . . I’m not making any promises, though.’

  ‘Twice – one for each child?’

  ‘I thought your train . . .?’

  ‘This afternoon.’

  ‘Not this morning?’

  ‘No. I said that just to get you here. To give you time to perform.’

  Perform! If he’d had a vasectomy like Ruth, Duffy and Lucy wanted, he wouldn’t have been able to perform this public service like a trained monkey.

  He stripped off. ‘No time to waste then.’ He strode into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

  She joined him.

  He shampooed his hair.

  She began soaping him.

  ‘I don’t know whether that will fit inside me,’ she said.

  ‘It’ll fit. Trust me, I have some experience in these matters.’ He turned her round.

  She opened her legs.

  He eased inside her and clasped her breasts. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  After the second time she said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We haven’t finished yet.’

  ‘Oh! I thought we agreed once for each child?’

  He laid her on the bed, stood at the side, lifted her legs and entered her again. ‘Think of it as a bonus.’

  ***

  When Quigg and Duffy went into the hidden room of the basement at 66 Copperfield Street, as well as the eighteen skulls embedded into the wall, they also found eighteen newspaper articles from the London Evening Standard, which were spread over a ten-year period. The articles identified eighteen young women who had been reported missing from Southwark and the surrounding areas between 1850 and 1860:

  Isabella Young

  Mary Ashford

  Eliza Davis

  Polly Grimwood

  Rebecca Tooley

  Sarah Slater

  Hannah Wood

  Barbara Sagar

  Martha Halliday

  Janet Henderson

  Maria Clousen

  Emma Starkey

  Racheal Samuel

  Susan Moritz

  Belinda Tremblor

  Francis Catchpole

  Ruby Lindell

  Christine Nelson

  The date of each woman’s disappearance coincided with Surgeon Superintendent Henry Grey’s periods of shore leave between his voyages from Southampton to Van Diemen’s Land.

  They also discovered a roll of sketches that depicted each woman dismembered on his dissecting table, but these weren’t signed by Henry Grey – they were signed by Surgat.

  ***

  Friday, November 10

  Miss Tinkley refused to speak to him, or even acknowledge him.

  He’d burned his boats.

  Now had never happened, so it was never going to happen.

  He resigned himself to the situation and consoled himself that tomorrow he would be odd jobbing at Nicky Wright’s house

  Normally, to keep in shape, he walked or ran went up and down the stairs, but by the afternoon he was really tired, so he caught the lift on the ground floor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d travelled in the lift – if he ever had.

  He stepped inside the confined space, and didn’t even notice that there was someone else in there besides himself, even though a whiff of perfume lingered in the air and made him think of Miss Tinkley.

  The doors closed, he pressed the button for the third floor and the lift began to rise. Between the second and third floors it judder
ed to a stop.

  He pressed a few buttons, but nothing happened.

  ‘I think you’re meant to press the red button.’

  He turned to find Miss Tinkley standing behind him. ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘They’ll ask the engineer to come out and fix it. We’ll probably be stuck in here for a couple of hours.’

  ‘A couple of hours!’

  ‘Yes. Imagine what we could do in a couple of hours.’

  ‘You’re here, I’m here. I don’t think either of us need to rely on our imagination.’

  Christie was wearing a light-green V-neck dress with a collar that buttoned up the front. She slowly unbuttoned each button and let the dress fall open to reveal that she wasn’t wearing a bra, but then her breasts were so firm that she didn’t need one.

  ‘You have the most perfect breasts, Christie,’ he said, taking one in each hand, and then bending down to run his tongue around the nipples.

  ‘They cost me a lot of money.’

  He stopped what he was doing to stare at her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, they were definitely worth every penny.’ He held her close and kissed her.

  She began rubbing a hand between his legs.

  It didn’t take him long to respond to her touch. How long had he been waiting for this? How many false starts had they had? How many times had he been disappointed? How many . . .?

  He slid down her body to his knees and as he went he hooked his fingers in her panties . . .

  ‘Oh, God!’ he said, throwing himself backwards.

  ‘It’ll soon be gone. I’m having the operation in Potsdam over the Christmas break. The surgeon will also create a vagina and then we’ll be able to be together for real, my love.’

  He pressed the red button. ‘Hello, is there anybody there?’

  ####