The Reaper's Kiss

by Robert Southworth

  “Do you know why we are here?” Abberline asked.

  The man stepped onto the courtyard and moved toward the Inspector.

  “Oh yes,” he replied, as he removed his spectacles and jacket. “I have been expecting you.”

  “And these workers?” Simeon asked.

  “Ah! Sir Simeon Harkness, we are honoured.”

  “Answer the bleeding question,” Abberline growled.

  The man’s sickly smile never faltered.

  “Not one knows why you would come calling. However, I imagine that more than enough will dislike you disturbing their working day.” As he spoke a number of the workers closed on Simeon and his men. None of them carried a firearm, but their tools of the trade would end a man’s life with ease.”

  Abberline pulled his pistol from his jacket, but Simeon caught his hand.

  “We cannot shoot men for just defending their place of work, Fred.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Abberline asked.

  “Billy clubs and a bit of good fortune,” he replied. As Simeon stopped speaking, he spun on the spot and punched the nearest worker squarely on the jaw. The man collapsed without uttering a sound. The other workers moved in quickly causing the horses to bolt. The master of the brewery, however, did not move he stared at Simeon. It was an unspoken challenge that Simeon understood all too well.

  “Now or after the men have had their fun?” he asked.

  “Oh! It would be a shame to miss the entertainment,” the man replied. He took a step back and then sat on the stairwell, seemingly without a care in the world.

  Simeon turned, he was not going to watch, as his men faced danger. His fear for his men, however, was misplaced. Workers were crashing to the courtyard surface. Bakari kicked one man in the groin as he held another in a choke hold. Jack weaved in and out, as he threw devastating jabs that stopped his attacker’s dead in their tracks. Gossup fought like a small wild beast. Naismith held two men pinned against the wall; his long cane sword, hovering dangerously close to their throats. Three men lay at the feet of Abberline and his Billy club. Tallow had just deposited a man in a barrel of ale. Simeon could not help smile until a rifle shot rang out. He spun around to observe the master of the brewery with a knife advancing on his position.

  “Changed your mind, bastard?”

  The man ignored the question and pushed the blade forward. Simeon blocked the move, and punched the man in the gut. Simeon took a step back. He had no wish to make this a quick affair. The man straightened, the sickly-sweet smile was gone and in its place was rage. This time Simeon’s opponent slashed with the blade, but the result was the same. Simeon crouched beneath the weapon and brought his fist up hard. The man received a mighty blow to his guts for the second time. He exhaled as though all the air had rushed from his body. Simeon waited patiently for the man to recover.

  “This is only going to end one way. Tell me where my son is?”

  “It will end with me cutting your throat, Harkness!”

  The man rushed forward, his weapon sweeping through the air stopping abruptly as Simeon caught his opponent’s arm. He then threw his head forward, butting the man. Blood and mucus exploded into the air. Where the man’s nose had been, was now, just a bloodied mess.

  “I am losing my temper. Where is William Harkness?” Simeon demanded.

  The man dropped his blade and moved over to where he had left his jacket. For a moment, Simeon thought the man sought a pistol. However, the man pulled a cloth wrapped package from one of the pockets. The package was slowly unwrapped to reveal another weapon.

  “That’s a Cronos follower’s blade,” Abberline announced, as he stepped alongside Simeon.

  “I will ask you one final time. Where is my son?” Simeon asked unconcerned about the Cronos blade.

  “Your son has defied Cronos. His bones will turn to dust amongst the angels of a false God.” He raised the weapon, and then dragged its edge across his own throat.

  “No!” Simeon screamed. He rushed the falling man and held his hand to the open wound. “Where is my boy!” The man’s mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Moments later, Simeon allowed the lifeless body to slump to the floor.

  “Bloody bastard,” Abberline announced. He turned on his heels and strode towards the workers that were now huddled in one spot in the courtyard. “As I asked before, who is in charge?”

  “I... I suppose I am now,” a frail voice spoke from a doorway. The man must have been at least seventy years old.

  “And who are you?”

  “Edward Wooks,” the elderly man replied.

  “Of Wooks Brewery?” Simeon asked, after regaining his composure.

  “Yes…I had nothing to do with these men,” he added quickly.

  “Tell me what happened,” Simeon insisted.

  “For months we had people coming around attempting to buy the brewery. I refused, since my wife died, it and my children had been my life. I hoped to pass it on to them upon my death. Just over a year ago, that shit,” he pointed to the dead man at Simeon’s feet, “came into the courtyard with a number of men. Some of which are still here. He asked me to sell. I refused, I told him the brewery was for my children. He grasped me by the throat but my boy Daniel broke his hold and threw him to the ground. They killed my boy, Mr Harkness - slaughtered him like swine,” the old man sobbed.

  “I am sorry. Did they force you to sell?”

  “They simply took over. The workers were kept in line with threats of violence. I was told my daughters would be killed if I didn’t hold my tongue.”

  “I cannot bring your son back, Mr Wooks, but the business is yours again. The men that have intimidated you and your employees will be removed. Is there anything you can tell about their activities?”

  “I was not allowed in the office after they took over. You may find something of value in there. I hope you get your son back, Mr Harkness. It is a terrible thing to lose a child.”

  “So do I, Mr Wooks…. So, do I.”

  Chapter 22

  Simeon had failed to find any clue to William’s location. However, despite the frustration, he could not deny the smallest feeling of inner happiness at being able to help the unfortunate Mr Wooks. The journey back to Cloveney had been a quiet affair. Each of the men seemed lost in their thoughts, Simeon was no different. Although he didn’t admit to his fellow riders, he was unsure of his next move. The addresses found at Drummonds had so far revealed little and took up valuable manpower. The taking of the brewery by the followers of Cronos had created a possible link to countless businesses within London. It would take the entire police force of the old city to investigate them all. There were also properties not yet visited remaining on the list from Drummonds. He decided that the base for the investigation needed to move back to London. He would remain at Cloveney Hall in case William managed to find his way home. It would also allow him the opportunity to stay close to Emily. William had been absent for six weeks; Simeon could not ignore the fact that his son may not be present at the birth. Simeon was determined that at least one Harkness would be in attendance. He despatched the men to Slaughter Yard as they neared Cloveney. The likes of Naismith and Gossup could not hide their delight at the prospect. They would be nearer to those that they loved.

  He continued the remaining part of the journey in solitude, hardly taking notice when the substantial gates of his home came into view. The hour was late, and he decided that he would slip into the household without ceremony. For a moment, he wished that he had offered the men a comfortable bed for the night, but in truth, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He hoped that Emily had retired for the evening because he had no wish to tell the story of their mission or see the disappointment on her face as she realised that William had not returned. He climbed down from his horse and was immediately met by the stable hand.

  “Look after her, Sid. She has carried me well.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “The rest of the horses are in London. They will ret
urn by the end of the week.” As Simeon handed over the reins, he heard the main door to Cloveney open. He closed his eyes as he imagined Emily waiting, desperate for news. Reluctantly, he turned around to face what he feared.

  “Welcome home, Sir,” sounded a familiar voice.

  “Thank you, Tomkins. I hope all is well with the household?”

  “All have retired. Will you require anything?”

  “I think I shall retire like the household, Tomkins. The day has played the devil with these old bones.”

  “Very good, Sir.”

  Simeon passed his hunting rifle and coat to Tomkins and entered Cloveney. Without another word, he climbed the elaborate staircase to his quarters. After washing the day’s grime from his aching body, he slipped beneath the covers.

  The screaming jarred him from the world of slumber. Despite the tiredness of his limbs, he leapt from his bed. He raced from his room and almost collided with Tomkins.

  “What the hell is going on, Tomkins?”

  “I believe it is coming from the young lady’s room.”

  Simeon hurried up the next flight of stairs that led to the landing that held Emily’s room. Courtesy demanded that he knocked before entering the room, but the screaming overruled courtesy. He burst in and saw Miss Bull desperately trying to wake Emily.

  “She will not wake!” Miss Bull shouted. The fear was evident in her voice.

  Simeon rushed forward, and as gently as the situation would allow, pushed Miss Bull out of his way. He then grabbed Emily and pulled her into an embrace. For a moment, she continued to scream, her arms flailing as if fighting an invisible beast. Simeon held her tight, ignoring the pain as Emily slapped him about the face.

  “Emily, my sweet girl. It’s Simeon… it’s Simeon.”

  Emily’s body suddenly went limp and she stopped screaming. Simeon gently laid her back on the bed. Her eyes opened, and upon seeing Simeon, she began to sob.

  “What is it, child?” Simeon whispered.

  “William is in mortal danger. Flames rage, men in hoods and Charles has a knife.” She continued to sob.

  “I will bring William home. I promise he will be at your side.” Simeon knew that it was a foolish oath, but Emily needed certainty to drive the demons from her mind. His words eventually seemed to soothe her despair, and as he stroked her cheek, her eyes closed.

  “I will stay with her,” Miss Bull whispered.

  “No, fetch me a chair and blanket,” Simeon replied.

  Minutes later Miss Bull and Tomkins had manoeuvred a large chair into position. Simeon rose from Emily’s bed and took up his position at her side.

  “You two had best retire.”

  ***

  Slaughter Yard played host to a night of drinking. It was the early hours before most the individuals drifted to their homes or rented rooms. They would return when rested and the previous day’s grime cleaned from their bodies. John remained at the yard, partly because he had been set that task, but mostly because he had nowhere else to go.

  Naismith was the first to arrive. It was just before ten and the previous night’s endeavours showed clearly on his face.

  “Bloody hell! You look like you just crawled from the grave,” John teased.

  “The way my head thumps, death would be a blessing.” Naismith looked over John’s shoulder into the office.

  “You are the first. Would you like a drink?”

  “A drink?” Naismith asked surprised at the offer.

  “Nothing strong. I have coffee on the stove.”

  Almost relieved, Naismith nodded his acceptance. “That would be most kind. I will take it in the office as I look through the documents from the brewery. We may have missed something.” He was not enthusiastic about the possibility, but with so little encouragement in their pursuit of the Ripper, he had no choice but to re-visit the paperwork. He sat down at the desk and wiped the tiredness from his eyes. His head swam from the nights drinking, but that paled in significance to the aching of his joints and the soreness of his arse from the long ride. He looked down at the lettering on one of the documents, the words merged and became a blur. His head thumped; for a moment, he thought he would pass out. He was only partly aware of the door to the office opening.

  “You won’t be able to work until that head eases,” a voice sounded. Gossup had entered the room.

  “I am not sure it will ever ease. Not without leaving this world.” Naismith forced his eyes open. He noticed a large bowl filled with what seemed to be paper and a liquid of some kind.

  “God provides. He gives us the cause and the remedy,” Gossup replied.

  “Is this witchcraft, I see before me?” Naismith tried to joke, but the thumping within his skull prevented a smile.

  “Take it from an old soldier. I have seen all manner of wounds, but the one inflicted by demon drink only has one cure. Brown paper soaked in vinegar and placed on the forehead.” Before Naismith could protest, Gossup tipped back his head and applied the paper to his flesh.

  Almost immediately he could feel a lessening of the pressure within his skull. “I don’t believe it.”

  “The pain will cease within the hour, but you will stink worse than the cheapest whore. I suggest that you bathe before you consider romance,” Gossup replied.

  John entered the office and placed a drink for both Gossup and Naismith on the desk.

  “I’ve made it strong. It will help chase the devil away.” As he spoke Tallow, Benjamin, Josh and Bakari all entered the office. Jack and Abberline quickly followed their arrival.

  Naismith waited until the chatter had died down.

  “I am not sure how long Sir Simeon will remain at Cloveney, but I think we need to make some preparations.” Inside he wondered if these men would follow his instruction. “We do not have much to work with, but I suggest we just carry on until Simeon tells us differently.”

  “Agreed,” Abberline replied.

  The others around the room nodded, which gave Naismith the confidence to continue.

  “If Benjamin and John remain at Slaughter Yard. Benjamin will continue to work on these documents and any others that we obtain. John will ensure that we have clear lines of communication. Josh, I think it will be prudent to have a system for delivering messages to Sir Simeon. I am fortunate to possess a small cottage in Ashby St Ledgers. It lies roughly halfway between London and Cloveney. It will be more comfortable than a tavern. If we look at the remaining premises on the list, some are more likely to have fallen into the hands of the Ripper. We will prioritise those and observe each of them for a few days. Two men to each property, reporting to Slaughter. Are we in agreement?”

  Naismith looked around the room nervously. He had led investigations for years, but these men were leaders in their own right. Not only that, this investigation was personal. If he made a mistake, then it could lead to William’s death. However, he felt relief as all of those present nodded their acceptance of his plan.

  Chapter 23

  Abberline moved towards the Fox tavern. It felt good to feel his boot leather against the cobbles of the city. He realised that Naismith had instructed that they should work in pairs but visiting Cochran was a task that could only be done alone. Cochran did not hold sway over the most influential street gang in London by being loose-tongued with strangers. Despite Joseph Cochran being on the wrong side of the law, Abberline could always trust him to play with a straight deck of flats. Abberline entered the Fox to be greeted by the thick, acrid stench of cigarette smoke. For the most part, he was ignored by the tavern’s customers. He noticed a couple of men whispering to each other as they looked in his direction. Both men then moved towards him. Abberline took out his pipe and casually began to fill it with tobacco. It was a subtle statement but one that he was sure they would understand.

  “What are you doing here, peeler?” the shorter of the two asked.

  “Can a man not enjoy an ale in peace?” Abberline replied mockingly.

  “Not your sort. Not in
here.” The dropped his hand to his belt and revealed a bone-handled knife.

  “That’s a fine weapon. It would be a shame to lose it.”

  “And why would I lose it?”

  “Because if you try to use it, I will ram it up your arse. Now be a good fellow and tell Joseph Cochran that I wish to speak with him.” The smaller of the two men did not like taking orders, and his hand rapidly moved towards his blade. Abberline kicked him in the groin and before the larger of the two men could react the Inspector drove his fist forward. It connected with the man’s jaw; knocking him cold. “By God’s bollocks,” Abberline cursed as he looked at the broken pipe within his fist. “That was my favourite.” He kicked the small man as he groaned in pain.

  “Calm yourself, Abberline. I will buy you a new sodding pipe,” a voice sounded from across the room.

  “Your employees are not very welcoming to customers,” Abberline replied.

  “They didn’t seem to warm to you,” Cochran moved closer as he spoke.

  “Ah! They are not the first.”

  “It’s strange they cannot spell their name but can spot a copper a mile away. How are you, Fred?” Cochran held out a hand.

  “I need a word, Joseph.” Abberline shook the offered hand enthusiastically.

  “I get the feeling we will need to drink the good stuff.” Cochran turned to face the man behind the bar. “Bring a bottle to my office. Actually, make it two.” He motioned to Abberline and then moved through the crowd.

  Abberline had sat in Cochran’s office before. It was orderly and devoid of clutter. It reminded Abberline of a banker’s office rather than a self-educated man who rose through the ranks of a street gang. Abberline thought that the son of an Irish immigrant was probably one of the most influential men in London. He watched Cochran as he poured them both a drink.

  “What can I do for you, Fred?”

  “I’m not here about any law-breaking, Joseph. At least not of your making.”

  “I am merely an honest man of business,” Cochran chuckled.

  “Hmm – I’m here to find out about one of your properties.” Abberline reached inside his pocket and took out a piece of paper with a written address on its surface. “I do not know what the purpose of the property is… only that the men we seek may be interested in it.” Cochran reached over the desk and took the note. As he read the address, Abberline saw a change in the man.