“No!” The men turned to see Emily walking towards them. When she reached Simeon, she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I love your son with all of my heart. If we turn away from our purpose, then it will not be you or I that will carry that burden. William will hold it in his heart, and it would destroy him. Gaetan, Tom, Obadiah laid down their lives for this task and William would not thank us for placing his life above theirs. Simeon, we must proceed. No matter the cost.”
“But Emily…” Simeon tried to protest.
“Simeon,” she raised a hand to his cheek, “I would rather rip the heart from my body than see William harmed, but he would not want this - better that he dies from a blade than from shame.”
Simeon stared at Emily for some time before turning back to the men. “Richard, if you would be so kind as to bring Finch here.” He paused knowing that the men would be eager to know what he had in mind. “We track the Ripper down and with good fortune bring my son home.”
“He may have little left to tell,” Richard Tallow replied glumly.
“A man like Finch always has more to tell. You just need to ask the right question with the right amount of pressure. I mean you no disrespect Richard but Finch is yet to meet Sir Simeon Harkness. He will understand why people call me a bastard.”
***
William knew that his hands were manacled before he opened his eyes. The cold, unforgiving iron bracelets rubbed against the skin of his wrists. He jerked as a cool damp cloth was applied to his head. He opened his eyes to a blurred figure standing above him. The features of the form were not yet clear, but William knew.
“It’s a bit late to display concern, Faraday,” William croaked. He was surprised by his voice and the soreness of his throat. The figure did not speak, but moved away, returning a moment later with a chair. He sighed and took a seat.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to hit you so hard. Although, the damage to your throat was caused by your fall onto the dock,” Faraday lit a cigarette.
“So how much coin did it take to buy your honour, Faraday?” William snapped.
“You think I did this for money? You do not understand the Ripper,” Faraday replied, returning William’s gaze.
“Then why don’t you enlighten me. Tell me why you turned your back on your friends – why you have doomed my unborn child to a life without a father.”
“I have his word that you will not be harmed,” Faraday finally looked at William.
“His word? He’s a murdering bastard, you damn fool!” William shook his head.
“He knows things!” Faraday stood, his face flushed with anger. He held out the hand that was devoid of two digits. “He has me in his palm and if I fail him - he will close his hand and crush me.”
“So, this is about saving your worthless skin?” William replied his temper beginning to rise. Faraday’s anger however, seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had erupted. He slumped back onto his chair. For a moment William thought that the inspector would remain quiet, too ashamed to speak.
“Not my skin - he would harm the only person that I have loved. The only person that has ever truly loved me.”
“I never knew you had a…” William attempted to reply as his fury was thrown off guard.
“A wife – a lover? No, only the burnt embers of what could have been.” Faraday once more held up his left hand. “Did Naismith ever tell you how I lost my fingers?”
“Only that you lost them on a mission.”
“I lost them because I was a fool. The scarred stumps are a reminder of my idiocy.”
“What are you talking about?” William found that despite his anger, he wanted to know more.
“I have always had contempt for those that broke the law. Man, woman or child it made no difference. The law was there to be obeyed and those that failed to do so, deserved punishment. My unswerving dedication to the law made me the obvious choice to go undercover to break the smuggling gangs on the coast. My superiors trusted that I was beyond corruption. It did not take me long to earn the trust of certain criminal gangs. Violence has always come easily to me, and I had no reluctance to use it for the ‘greater good’ at least that is what I told myself,” He gave a wry smile. “Six months I walked amongst the bastards before I drew the attention of ‘Tanner’ Bill.
“Tanner Bill?”
“He earned the name because his enemies were rumoured to end up at the tanners. He was a vile creature that ruled like a would-be king. He demanded loyalty from his subjects and those that fell short, rarely lived. I managed to set up some easy targets for his gang to make some money. I was so successful that I was invited to visit Tanner Bill’s home. It was an honour rarely extended to anyone outside his inner circle.” Faraday paused, and he closed his eyes tightly for a moment as though the memory caused him pain. “It was here that I met Anne. She was Tanner’s niece, but he treated her like a commodity. She was uncommonly beautiful, and that beauty was used to help fill Tanner’s pockets. If an official needed to be convinced to divulge information, then Anne was the alternative to violence. Over the next few months, I grew to know her and how Tanner used his niece as a whore, and when she refused, he could be cruel. Her misery pulled my attention from my duty to trying to find excuses to being in her presence. My masters at the Yard became suspicious, believing that I may have grown used to a life of crime. They ordered Tanner’s property raided and his gang rounded up.” Faraday paused and took a flask from within his jacket and took a long drink. He offered the flask to William who refused, despite desperately needing to quench his thirst. “On the night of the raid, I led the attack on Tanner’s household personally. Something went wrong, and our position was given away far earlier than was planned. I panicked and ordered the men to charge forward when it would have been easier to hold our position. All I could think about was making sure that Anne was safe. Despite losses, we forced our way into the house.” He held up his left hand to highlight his own loss in the skirmish. “I ran from room to room in the search for Anne. I saw Tanner hiding in one of the upstairs rooms, but I made no attempt to arrest him. My only thoughts were for Anne. Finally, I found her and smuggled her from the house. I placed her on a horse with instructions where we would meet. As she rode away, there were more gunshots from the house. I finally returned my mind to my duty. As I entered the house more shots rang out. I ran up the stairs and to my horror found Tanner had been killed, but he had taken two of my men with him. They were no more than boys. They would never see another day because of me.” Faraday placed his head in his hands.
“And what of Anne?” William asked.
“When men die, questions are asked. It took time for me to give my report, and remove myself from the gaze of my superiors. By the time I reached the small Inn that we had arranged to meet in, she had already left.”
“You don’t suppose that you could have been deceived?”
Faraday gave a small smile. “I am not always a fool, William. I have thought on more than one occasion that perhaps was just a useful tool to help her break free from Tanner’s grasp. Not that it mattered. The guilt I felt at the betrayal of my men had extinguished any hope that we could have been together. Each time that I looked into her eyes, I would have seen the empty stare of my men.”
“And so, you betrayed your men for nought. Just like you have betrayed me.” William felt his anger rising once again.
“Not for nought. I ensured Anne was free of Tanner and until a number of weeks ago, I believed that she was safe. This man that we have hunted all this time is the devil himself, William. He knows things that only I and the dead could know.”
“You bloody fool. He knows what? That you fell in love with a smuggler’s niece. That men died and some blame their deaths on you.” William shook his head with dismay.
“Nobody knew of our affair,” Faraday replied, but his words lacked conviction.
“Of course they knew. Someone always bloody knows your secrets. A nosey servant, a crook waiting until the
information will be at its most valuable. This Ripper is no psychic with help from the dead. He cannot see into the past or know the future. Oh, he is clever – too bloody clever but he is just a man. A man who has made a fool out of you. Faraday, you have damned us both.”
“He gave me his word that you will not be harmed,” Faraday replied.
“Faraday,” William sighed, “neither of us will live beyond our usefulness.”
Chapter 14
A figure picked his way towards the docks. The collar of his Inverness coat was pulled up high, and a scarf hid his facial features from any prying eyes. Then quite suddenly he came to a halt, glancing up and down the street. The hour was late, only the few people were on the streets and they did not dawdle in their pursuit of a safe haven. Despite their proximity, they showed no interest in his activities. He took the opportunity to slip into an alley to his rear. He strode with purpose but without haste for twenty paces and then stopped next to an inconspicuous door. The figure took another glance towards the main street and then disappeared through the door. The corridor was dark, however, in the distance an open doorway allowed light to announce the path for any guest. Despite the way ahead being clear the figure paused long enough to remove his coat and reveal the robe beneath. He lifted the hood of the garment, and his face fell into shadow.
As he stepped through the illuminated doorway, a small table came into view. He knew this would be no grand meeting that the cult of Cronos had become accustomed. No fine country household to add grandeur and weight to their cause.
“Thank you for attending at such short notice, brothers.” His words were not met with a vocal reply but with the compliant nod of four hooded forms seated at the table. “As the most dedicated servants of Cronos, I thought that you should be informed of my plans.” He and glanced around the room. “But first, I believe, some wine.” One of the hooded followers, made to rise. “No, remain in your seat. I shall serve.” He walked to the small cabinet, on which, a bottle and a number of glasses were perched. With his back to the four hooded figures, he poured five glasses of wine. Then he silently slipped a small flask from within his robe. A single drop of liquid was added to four of the glasses, and the flask returned to his robe. Despite a tray being available, he delivered each glass to the table individually and then took a seat. Giving a contented sigh, he raised his glass. “To Cronos and the return of the golden age.” His words were answered in kind by his guests as they first raised their own glasses, and then savoured the liquid within.
“Why are we here, Alpha?” A figure directly to his right asked.
“The followers of Cronos need you,” Alpha paused. He took a moment to observe the people around the table. Their faces were covered, but he had learned to read other signs. Nervous men usually fidgeted in their seats, the slightest tremor of a hand could tell him a great deal. “I asked all to destroy links to Finch and to wait for further instruction.” One of them attempted to rise, but a seemingly invisible force prevented the action. “Hemlock can be a useful tool if you possess the knowledge.” Alpha rose from his seat and circled the table. He knew that those seated were experiencing a deep fear. He licked his lips and smiled. “A man that is willing to run, is also, willing to talk. Sell his comrades so that he may avoid persecution.” Alpha reached out a hand and tugged the hood from the figure to his front. “James Streep…heir to the Streep fortune. Alas, no fortune exists. Squandered away by your drunkard of a father. Your anger infected all that you touched. Cronos placed its protective arms about you. We even made it possible for much of that fortune to return. And yet you abandon the cause, placing your worthless neck above the followers of Cronos. No James, your neck is of no importance.” The blade was brought up with speed and then drew across the exposed flesh of James Streep’s’ throat. Blood cascaded onto the surface of the table. He knew that those seated at the table must have wanted nothing more than to run, but the poison coursing through their veins held them captive. Every muscle constricted, forcing them to remain seated and upright. The unfortunate Streep did not falter in his positioning despite the blood gushing from the open wound. “What was that?” Alpha leant forward placing his hooded ear close to Streep’s mouth. “My dear boy, you are mumbling. You must learn to articulate your words.” Alpha was enjoying his macabre teasing. He tapped Streep on the shoulder and then moved onto the next of his guests.
As before he pulled the hood of the seated figure to reveal the person hidden beneath. “Seamus Doherty, disowned son of Sean Doherty, a trader of dubious reputation. Apparently, even a man like your father cannot turn a blind eye to your thievery. I thought Cronos would cure you of your failings. Imagine my dismay upon finding that you intended to run and fund your cowardice with Cronos wealth. You visited the safe house in Dorset and removed the funds intended for those more deserving.” Alpha placed his own hand on top of Doherty’s hand that was on the table’s surface. “That which is offensive – we must cut away.” He placed the blade of his knife on Seamus’s wrist. The blade moved downwards easily until it struck bone. Alpha was forced to apply more pressure and allow the blade to continue its journey. The instrument of destruction did not cease until it collided with the hard, wooden surface of the table. Alpha gave the blade a flick and the hand separated from its host. Seamus did not scream, because he could not, but his eyes welled with tears. Alpha moved to Seamus’s right side and held his victims remaining good hand. “A thief with one hand is still a thief.” The blade came down again and removed the second hand with less ceremony but with equal efficiency. Alpha wiped his blade on his latest victim’s hood. As he did so, he could hear the slightest of high-pitched sounds. He thought it resembled a scream that had been captured, put in a sturdy box, and then placed at the bottom of a well. The noise was emanating from one of his unharmed guests.
He ambled to the next person and drew back their hood. “Annabel King, once the bell of London’s high society. You danced and spent your way through your husband’s wealth. He finally he grew tired of your excesses and found the warm embrace of another. Driven to the point of insanity you set the fire that would consume the residence that your husband and his new lover called home. The lover was killed, and you were fortunate not to face the noose. The authorities believed you mad and locked you away. Cronos found you and plucked you from imprisonment. We even took the head of the man that had so wronged your heart. “I wonder how damaged is your heart?” The blade was raised and then plunged through fabric, and into flesh. The weapon changed direction a number of times, until a macabre square was formed. Alpha removed the blade, and then forced his hand into the wound. “Your heart clings to your body like you clung to love.” He withdrew his hand, and the knife went to work once more. Again, his hand replaced the blade and this time as it left King’s body it held a bloodied heart. “Not my best work but the light is too poor.” He held the heart so that Annabel King could see but she had already passed from the world of men.
Alpha turned his attention to the final guest. As before he pulled back the hood. “Oh, I have saved the most important guest until last. Richard Hamble, third son of the famous Lord Hamble. You saw the writing on the wall from an early age. The Lord’s first son and heir would be trained from the day he was born to step into the breach when his father breathed his last. The second son, your brother Rupert, would enter the world of religion. One of the few professions that can match the deceit and debauchery of politics. That left poor little Richard at the mercy of being a sacrificial lamb to the demands of high society. Life in the military beckoned with a commission arranged since you suckled your mother’s teat. You saw your father’s plans and made plans of your own. You would rebel but not before you had spirited away enough funds to give you a reasonable start in life. You foresaw your father’s fury and unwillingness to deviate from his wishes for your future. Your father cut you off from the family. He even denied you the opportunity to visit your mother on her deathbed or visit the family tomb when the Reaper finally kissed h
er lifeless lips. You were lost until Cronos placed his understanding arms about you. He moulded your fury into a tool and enabled you to take bloody revenge on your father. You saw your father’s downfall, and then you seemingly saw the opportunity to cut Cronos from your life. It had served its purpose.” Alpha raised his blade. “I think you have seen far too much.” The weapon was pushed forward and then moved in a circular motion. As Hamble’s eye slopped on to the table surface the blade went to work again. Before long, Hamble’s stare could, if it had not been against the laws of nature, took in his own form as both eyes looked up from the table surface. Alpha casually wiped his knife on a nearby napkin. He had no idea if all four victims were dead but he knew that their time was short. The poison would eventually prevent them taking a breath even if they managed to survive their grotesque injuries. Alpha smiled at a task well done. He loved the feeling of having complete control over his victims. He even gave a short chuckle as he thought about the deceit of his own words. They would die thinking that Cronos demanded their lives. Nothing could be further from the truth. Alpha knew that they could not be trusted and must be removed before their loose tongues posed a threat. They would not be the last. Cronos had served its purpose and its followers were now a weight to discard.
He took down his hood now that the possibility of being identified had been removed. He gave a sigh. “I would have liked to leave you in this state. I do so like to create a suitable scene for the Yard and newspapers to enjoy. However, your identities may create a certain apprehension in the followers of Cronos. I must delay your names becoming known.” Alpha searched each of his victims and removed any papers or jewellery. The papers were burned in a metal bowl that sat in the centre of the table. The jewellery, however, was slipped into his pocket. “One last task,” he raised the blade, “the face is the canvass we present to the world. It shows our misery and joy in equal measure, but the dead have no need for such things.”
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