Their footsteps crunched on the walkway and a minute later, the two men entered the house. Servants took their coats, to brush and dry them, while Stark and Anton made their way through the hall and proceeded into a large, wood panelled smoking room. A good fire was crackling merrily in a large fireplace made of green marble. Fifteen men were sitting in burgundy armchairs, smoking, drinking brandy, and eating snacks from a buffet. No servants were allowed to enter.
The men received Anton with hand shakes, but he noticed that not every one was pleased to see him. The younger ones shot him glances, some insecure, some jealous, some despising. Anton knew he excelled them and he felt absolute ease. His contribution would be the essential one. Only with him, could they reach their goals.
He noticed a peculiar hierarchy. The group seemed to revolve around a man with a shock of light grey hair and a bushy moustache of the same colour. Yet there seemed to be subgroups which rivalled each other. Anton observed them for a few moments and then derived that the leadership within the smaller groups was based on corruption and intrigue, while the overall leadership was based on power, pressure, and fear. He smiled inwardly. This, he could use to his advantage.
The moustached man stood up and silence fell.
‘Dr Kronberg, you may have heard my name before. I am Dr Jarell Bowden.’
Anton nodded.
‘I speak for everyone in the room when I say that we are very lucky to have you here.’ Men were nodding and murmuring.
‘As Dr Stark already told you, we are a group of medical doctors that were able to obtain enough private funding to conduct research into the development of vaccines.’
Anton noticed that Bowden spoke in the plural. They must have been experimenting not only with tetanus, but with other diseases, too.
‘You correctly stated in your presentation that the successful development of a vaccine greatly depends on the availability of the isolated germs. To be frank - we need your cultures and we want you to isolate other germs for us.’ Bowden was used to getting what he wanted, Anton observed. He also noticed Bowden’s greed.
The room fell quiet again and all faces turned to Anton.
Anton stood up and spoke with his silken and self-confident voice: ‘You honour me greatly Dr Bowden. Yet, I cannot simply provide you with deadly bacterial cultures and agree to isolate more without knowing how they will be used in the future.’
Bowden had not expected such a reply.
Anton continued without faltering: ‘You want to develop vaccines and I have experience in this field; I will be of great value. You need my pure cultures and you are well aware of that. But what then? I don’t see anyone in this room who would be able to manipulate them, grow them, or be able to produce a vaccine and run test trails on animals or humans. I can only give you the cultures when you are open with me and when you include me in your research. It will be either that or nothing.’
Anton remained standing, not taking his eyes off Bowden, and took a sip of his brandy. He noted the exquisite taste of aged oak barrel and smoke.
Bowden sat down and everyone’s head turned towards him. He looked inquiringly into the face of each of his men. Eleven nodded and four did not move. It was decided - Anton was in. He would have been greatly surprised if they had not agreed to his terms. He would need to keep an eye on the four men that had not approved of him. If necessary, he would get rid of them.
~~~
He stood behind me, planted a kiss on my shoulder, then opened my shirt with his left hand, and pulled it aside. His right hand held a knife. Slowly he slit my abdomen open; I meant to scream but could not make a single sound. Lazily he pulled my intestines out and draped them over both my shoulders.
I sat up in my bed, sweating and breathing heavily. My stomach was still intact. It was dark outside.
~~~
Late in the afternoon, Anton placed a vase into the window of his apartment and boiled water for tea. Half an hour later a tall man in shabby clothes knocked on his door.
‘Anna.’
‘Come in,’ answered Anton, subdued, and went into the far corner of the too small room. The tall man stopped.
‘Sit, please.’ Anton indicated the lonely armchair. A cup of tea on the coffee table was awaiting the guest.
‘I have been invited to Cambridge to give a talk on tetanus. A group of sixteen doctors from the Medical Schools of Cambridge and London attended the presentation. Three days later, I met the same group in a villa here in London.’ Anton waited for the tall man to sit, and then he continued: ‘Dr Gregory Stark took me there with a private four-wheeler, hoping I wouldn’t know where we were going. The curtains were drawn and he involved me in useless small talk. However, I am certain the meeting’s location was in a one mile radius of King’s Road. I don’t know the names of all men yet, but the leader is a certain Dr Jarell Bowden. I am not sure the house was his.’
As the tall man did not show any sign of recognition upon hearing the name, Anton explained: ‘Bowden is known for his advancements in sexual surgery in insane women and had been suspected to perform cruel and unnecessary experiments with women in his care. The charges were withdrawn, as Bowden had the best lawyer in London. Stark seems to be a senior member, but without much weight. Four of the men did not approve of me; their names are Hayle Reeks, Ellis Hindle, Davian Kinyon, and Jake Nicolas.’
Anton indicated the note lying next to the tea cup. It contained the names of the six men he had just mentioned.
‘They all work at London Medical School as anatomists, except for Stark, who works at Cambridge. I may have to get rid of the four younger ones if they are giving me any trouble. It would be good if you could find something that would make it possible to detain them for a few days if needed.’
The tall man nodded, lost in thought. ‘I don’t like what you are doing,’ he said.
‘Do you have information for me?’ asked Anton. As no answer came, he walked to the door and opened it in dismissal.
The tall man stared at Anton with his eyes darkening, then jumped up and crossed the room in two long strides. He snatched the door handle from Anton’s hands and slammed the door shut. Then he grabbed Anton’s chin hard, bent down, and growled: ‘Stop that!’
Anton’s balance tipped, slid, and shattered on the floor.
~~~
My head fell forward as my neck couldn’t support it any longer. The aroma of Muscovy and pipe tobacco almost pulled me closer. Angry with myself, I pushed away from him and walked over to the window, leaning my forehead onto the cold surface. The street and the pavement below me were bustling with everyday life. How very far away, I thought.
‘If you cannot bear the sight of me, don’t come looking, Sherlock.’
After a long moment of silence, the quiet click of a closing door hauled Anton back into life. He took the vase, walked down onto the street, and gave it to a beggar.
Chapter Fourteen
The following day, Anton paid a visit to superintended Rowlands to resign his position at Guy’s. Rowlands, however, was not surprised by the turn of things. He had heard from his old friend Stark that the London Medical School had made Anton an attractive offer.
Three days later, Anton moved into a large and well equipped laboratory and his bacterial cultures were transferred with him. He had two assistants at hand who would help him develop vaccines for the two diseases that cost London more lives than any other: tetanus and cholera. Compared to these two, the death toll of murderers was neglectable.
It was agreed that only Anton, as the trained bacteriologist, would handle the hazardous viable bacterial cultures, while his assistants would clean and disinfect the lab ware, prepare the culture medium, handle the heat-killed germs, and record experimental procedures and observations. For weeks they tested tetanus bacteria on rabbits and mice that were kept in the small outdoor area behind Anton’s lab. They could reach an immunity of up to fifty percent - five out of ten animals would not contract tetanus when immunised a week before
infection.
Unfortunately, there was a problem with mortality. The heat-killing of germs was not reliable - one third of the immunised animals contracted tetanus and died.
~~~
We lay in the grass next to the river, our arms entangled into each other. Then he kissed me goodbye and pushed my limp body into the Thames.
I looked towards the window; the sky was pearly grey.
~~~
Anton was standing in the small kitchen of his spartan apartment on Tottenham Court Road. He cut two slices of bread, spread butter on them, and sprinkled a little salt on top. He took the kettle off the flame and poured the steaming water onto the expensive tea leaves. The hissing gas lamp gave only little light, but it sufficed to see what Anton’s hands were doing and to let the men down on the street know he moved about in his room.
He knew he had been tailed today. It had been a sloppy first attempt of the four men. Holding his sandwich in one hand, he walked to the side of the small window and cautiously peeked through the tattered curtain. He could see them arguing in the shadow of a shop window. That was a good sign. Anton opened the apartment door, walked down the flight of stairs, opened the door to the street, and called: ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’
Their heads jerked in his direction. Anton stepped aside while holding the door open. An inviting gesture, although not a friendly one. They crossed the street and their stride appeared indecisive.
‘Good evening,’ each one of them said, probably not knowing what else would be appropriate. They passed him and entered the house. Anton followed them and noticed that they knew he lived on the first floor. From tomorrow morning on he would hide a match between the door and its frame. Anyone entering would move the match from its original position.
The four men walked up the staircase and through the door Anton had left ajar.
‘Dr Reeks, Dr Hindle, Dr Kinyon, and Dr Nicolas,’ said Anton coolly, ‘you have tailed me and watched my window for the last forty minutes. What do you have to say?’
Anton stood with his back on the wall and his arms crossed in front of his chest. The men looked at each other; their faces showed insecurity. Hindle harrumphed and answered for the others in a defiant tone: ‘We don’t trust you!’
‘That’s not my problem,’ said Anton.
‘Why do you live in such a shabby place?’ Reeks barked.
‘That is none of your business. But as you are my guests now,’ said Anton with a trace of mocking in his voice: ‘I have to treat you accordingly. I live simple because luxury dulls the higher senses. A detail you four surely haven’t noticed.’ The spite in Anton’s words did not sound in his voice. His smile was cold, though, and didn’t go unnoticed by his guests.
‘We think you are hiding something from us.’
Anton laughed wholeheartedly at that. ‘Interesting theory. What data do you have to support it?’
The irritation Anton’s answer had caused was palpable.
‘We talked to your former colleagues at Guy’s. Some say you are soft. You are reportedly treating patients nicer than anyone else.’
‘Well, that’s of course rather horrible,’ said Anton with mock concern and somewhere in the back of his head he wondered how he had gotten so suicidal.
‘From what we heard, we can not believe that you would be able to-’ Hindle was cut off by Nicolas’s elbow making painful contact with his rib cage.
Anton’s heart rate increased a little but he gained control over it soon enough. ‘Hindle, if you don’t trust me, why are you trying to reveal a secret that Nicolas clearly doesn’t want me to know?’
Hindle’s face fell and small beads of sweat appeared on his forehead despite the cold in Anton’s apartment.
‘I… I didn’t mean to…’ he stammered, and Anton interrupted him: ‘Clearly not, no. Yet, I wonder what Dr Bowden would say?’
Their eyes widened in shock. These men were obviously not Bowden’s favourites. This was the information Anton had wanted.
‘Gentlemen, I suggest you leave now. Should I ever see you following me again, I will make sure your bloated bodies will float in the Thames.’ Anton’s voice was a cold whisper, barely audible, like the hiss of a cobra before it drives its fangs into its victim’s flesh.
He opened the door and wished them a good evening. All four left without protest.
~~~
When Anton came home the following night, he found the tall man awaiting him. Anton swallowed, closed the door quietly, and pressed his back against the wall.
The tall man looked haggard and pale. He must have lost a considerable amount of weight. His cheeks were hollow and dark shadows showed under his eyes. Anton avoided the man’s eyes and instead focused on his brow or preferably any other spot in the room.
The tall man had noticed Anton’s searching look and said lightly: ‘I’m spending most of my time in workhouses. The food there is neither sufficient to sustain even a child, nor does it taste like anything but paper mill sewage.’ He tried a smile, then. ‘But that is of no importance now. Do you know Mr Samuel Standrincks?’
Anton shook his head slowly.
‘He is the chairman of the Holborn Union board of guardians. During the last week he met with several members of the Club.’
‘The Club?’ interrupted Anton, accidentally looking into the man’s eyes and regretting it the same second.
‘In lack of a name I called our network of criminal doctors the Club,’ he waved his hand impatiently. ‘I could overhear a conversation between Standrincks and your dear Dr Stark. A so-called health examination in all of Holborn Union workhouses will be conducted in one week time. The Club is about to choose their test subjects.’
The tall man looked expectantly at Anton, who didn’t move a muscle. After a short moment he continued: ‘Did you know that Standrincks, as chairman of the board of guardians, is paid by the government? The board usually sees very little of the workhouses, they receive reports from committees they appointed. The pay for the committees comes directly from the chairman, who also receives the reports and picks the committee members. Every piece of information the board receives is first filtered through Standrincks. And all reports from the board are first passed through Standrincks before they reach the government.’
‘Why does one need a board then?’ muttered Anton sarcastically.
‘Precisely! Its sole purpose is to show that the government cares for paupers. They are receiving money and take part in meetings. But as everything goes over Standrincks’s desk, their decisions are futile. Needless to say that I will dedicate some time to Mr Standrincks and see whether the government is involved in any way. By the bye - how is your research for the Club going?’
Slowly, Anton shifted his weight from one leg to the other and answered: ‘I am testing the tetanus vaccine on animals. They also want a cholera vaccine, but we lack suitable patients to isolate the germs. I am expecting the Club to deliver one soon, though.’
Anton noticed that the tall man went rigid. It was probably the coldness in Anton’s voice, so he modulated it a little: ‘We are now reaching the limits of testability. Only after testing them on human subjects can we say for sure that the vaccines are working.’
‘You will suggest it?’ The tall man’s voice was now as cold as Anton’s.
‘I may have to. Their actions are still legal.’
‘They are tailing you,’ said the tall man, cautiously changing the subject. Anton pulled one corner of his mouth up and answered: ‘I know. I’m the newest addition to the Club. They need to make sure they can trust me.’ After a short pause he added: ‘It’s not good you are here.’
‘You underestimate me,’ growled the tall man.
‘You underestimate me, too.’
‘I don’t think so. But what you are doing, Anna, is not healthy.’
Anton gave a short hard laugh: ‘Look into the mirror!’
Chapter Fifteen
Three days later, Stark called at Anton’s quarters in the late
evening to inform him a suitable cholera specimen had now been delivered to his lab.
Although Anton had known this moment would come, he was not prepared for its arrival. He stared across his room at the small window. The knowledge that ordinary life bustled on behind the dark rectangle, gave him a little strength.
‘How has it been delivered?’ he asked and it, it, it echoed in his brain, bouncing off cold walls like the shrieking of bats.
‘Female from Dundee, delivered with a brougham,’ answered Stark in a bored telegram style. Anton made a mental note - Dundee was more than four-hundred miles north. How far does the Club’s network reach?, he wondered.
‘The cabby is a reliable man. We have had used him for other... tasks.’ Stark scratched his chin. Anton sensed the gaping cleft within the man, who did not quite trust his young colleague but had been ordered to share sensitive information with him. ‘He was well paid and instructed not to listen to any noise she made. We told him she is insane and seriously sick,’ explained Stark. He seemed to loosen up a little and chuckled. ‘The man must have whipped his horses like the devil, has never made it down here in such a short time!’
Then he clapped his hands in delight and Anton felt the heat rising inside his chest. But he told his heart to be still and his breath to come regular. In his brain, though, he went berserk: he beat Stark unconscious and tied his arms and legs with a rope. Then he would infect him with cholera and wait a few days. After the disease had turned Stark into an intestine expelling wreck, he would leave him outside in the cold, lying in his own shit and vomit, without food, water, or even a consoling word for his remaining days. A trial would be the least thing Stark would have to worry about.
The Devil's Grin - a Crime Novel Featuring Anna Kronberg and Sherlock Holmes Page 12