She looked to see what could have scared him, but nothing obvious was evident. Mentally she readied herself for an attack. Instead, it was her turn to look agog as he lifted his hand to his face and spoke into his wrist. There was a communications band there.
It is him, she thought.
‘Abberline, it’s Kosminski. I’m just off The Minories, can you hear me?’
‘Loud and clear my, good man, but why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I’m here with Catherine Eddowes, and he’s here, at the end of the street. I think he’s waiting for me.’
‘Bugger. I’m about forty minutes’ swift walk away, maybe twenty-five if I can summon a carriage. Would you be able to keep them there until I arrive?’
‘I’ll do my best, sir.’
‘Oh, no you won’t,’ Catherine shouted as she dealt him a terrific blow to the back of his neck. ‘You murderous bastard,’ she spat.
Before Kosminski blacked out from the second blow, he heard her scream. ‘Bastard. I’ll kill you, you bastard.’
~~~~
Kosminski was flat out on the floor. Catherine thought that she had killed him, and the thought made her smile. She couldn’t wait to let Carrie know that she had gotten the bastard. As he lay defenceless, she leaned in and grabbed him by the neck, ready to remove the communication band, and have a word with whoever was on the other end. That was when she noticed a movement in the direction the killer had been staring only moments before. She looked up towards Jewrey Street. She had seen someone down there, but whoever it was, they had gone now.
She leaned back Kosminski, ready to give his neck a fatal twist, when something hit her from behind. The last thing she remembered was feeling the cold of the cobbles under her face as her head hit the road.
~~~~
She came around a few minutes later to the sensation of movement, her movement. When she opened her eyes, all she could see were cobbles moving before her. She tried to wriggle her hands and feet but couldn’t, they were bound by something. The slight green tint to the road beneath her gave it away. A binding beam, she thought.
The throb in her head was making her dizzy, coupled with the motion of being carried along at such a rapid pace. She opened her mouth to let her assailant know she was about to be sick, but no sound came forth, only a hot stream of vomit. She felt herself being laid on the floor, and as her assailant cleaned her up, she managed to get a quick look around. She recognised where she was; it was near to Aldgate High Street. This didn’t bring her any comfort as she knew this part of London would be mostly deserted at this time of night.
They continued travelling for a minute or two, when she saw they had crossed Aldgate High and were now heading into a small, dark, square that she didn’t recognise.
She could just about make out the man’s back as he reached into his pocket with his free hand and produced a small keypad. A door to the building before her dissolved into a million light particles, opening into a dark warehouse. She caught part of the sign on the front of the door. It read ‘…of Mitre Square’.
Once inside, she was unceremoniously dumped onto a cold floor. The first thing she noticed was the stink of sweat, urine, and faeces. Someone else is here, she thought. Emily?
Using the only muscles that she could control, those of her eyes, she employed them to look up from her prostrate position. A naked and filthy woman was sitting in a chair. Before her was a small spherical device. The glow from it had wrapped her in a green light. In the centre of the green light there was a purple flashing blip.
She recognised it straight away as a quantum slug.
It is Emily, she thought. She’s still alive.
As her captor entered her line of vision, she could only see the bottom of his trousers, his shoes, and the dark, red lining of his cape.
‘Catherine Eddowes, you have something I want. You have the chance to give it to me now, of your own accord, or I’ll take it by force, and I’ll force your friend here…’ he gestured towards Emily, ‘…to watch. Then, just maybe, she’ll realise that giving me the codes is the best way forward.’
The sound of his voice roused Emily from her sleep. Her dazed eyes roamed the room before settling on Catherine. They went wide with fear and, Catherine thought, recognition.
She started shouting, but no sound was produced. The man pressed a button on the spherical object and the beam around Emily weakened.
‘Catherine? Is that you? Are you OK?’ she gasped while trying to take in air.
Catherine couldn’t move due to the binding beam that confined her arms and legs; all she could do was turn her head and blink her eyes.
Emily looked over to the man, who had retreated into the shadows of the room. ‘Why are you doing this? Why are you taking us one by one? You BASTARD!’ she shouted.
Then she screamed and screamed and screamed. The man stood in the corner, allowing her to continue.
When she was done, she flopped back into her seat, exhausted. All the fuss had achieved was to cause Catherine to panic.
The man stepped back out of the shadows. ‘You see, Catherine,’ he said, stooping down to where she lay on the cold floor to look in her face. ‘Your friends don’t seem to care if you live or die, and if I don’t get the transponder codes right now, you’ll die, horribly.’
He took a small device out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons. Catherine felt the release of the beam from around her neck and chest. She gagged, trying to take in as much of the stale air as she could.
‘What is it you want?’ she croaked, grasping at her neck. ‘I’ve never met this woman in my life,’ she gasped, gesturing towards Emily.
The man leant back in and slapped her hard in the face. She felt her lip begin to swell. After the initial flinch, she looked back around at the man and smiled. ‘I told you, I don’t know anything.’
He hit her again, with equal force. ‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Eddowes.’ The spittle flying from his mouth landed on her face. She blinked as it went into her eyes, stinging them slightly. ‘I know exactly who you are. You began your career in the operations division, where you specialised in personal protection. You were once an Earth Alliance scientist, you specialised in molecule transportation, but your real passion lay in the Higgs Storm that was produced after temporal relocation. You left the EA and joined The Quest; where you then became a terrorist. You are jointly responsible for the worst atrocity known to history. Do not try to pull the wool over my eyes. Give me the transponder codes now or I’ll remove your slug. You have one minute.’
Catherine looked up at the man, right into his eyes. ‘Go fuck yourself,’ she said and spat in his face.
His eyes bugged and his brow ruffled. He reached in and tore the shawl she was wearing off her bodice. He wiped the saliva from his face before dropping the rag onto the floor, where it landed in a pool of Emily’s blood. Absently, he picked it up and stuffed it into a pocket in his cape.
‘So be it,’ he said. The quiver in his voice belied his rage. ‘This will be the second tonight. Poor, nervous Elizabeth Stride has already felt this cutting beam this night. I wasn’t able to retrieve her slug, but… I don’t think I’ll be needing it now,’ he hissed as he grabbed her by her coat and dragged her out of the door.
At the mention of Elizabeth’s name, Catherine began to scream.
~~~~
Emily could only watch as her colleague was dragged out of the cold, dark room. ‘No!’ she whispered into the, now empty, warehouse. The man came back in and removed the spherical object in front of her. The green light blinked off, as did the purple flash.
He then walked back out of the door.
Emily could see the green glow filtering in through the cracks in the door frame, she wanted to close her eyes, to turn away as a red glow joined it, but she couldn’t. The sound of the ripping and tearing of flesh caused her empty stomach to churn, as, in her mind’s eye, she could see her friend being cut open, torn apart by the beam as it chased h
er elusive slug. Even through her closed eyes, she could see Catherine’s face contort in agony as her steaming innards fell, mutilated, from the fresh wounds in her stomach. She could see her friend choking and gargling on her own, free-flowing, blood.
Then the glow disappeared.
Emily hung her head; she knew that it was over.
After a short while, the door was pushed open and the man re-entered the warehouse.
His cape was covered in blood. A mist was rising from him in the cold of the room.
In his leather gloved hand, he held a small metallic object, which he threw at her feet. It landed on the floor with a muffled chink and, reluctantly, she cast her eyes down towards it.
It was a quantum slug.
It was Catherine Eddowes’s quantum slug.
As he walked back outside, Emily’s tears finally began to fall.
~~~~
Kosminski watched as the man in the cape stood up from his work. He was covered in the woman’s, the witch’s, he corrected himself, blood. He then picked up the small object that he had retrieved from the dead bitch.
He scanned the dark square, with an emphasis towards the street at the far end. He was aware there would be a policeman—on his scheduled beat—due at any moment. The killer would not want to give the Bobby any reason to deviate from his beat other than to shine his lamp into the square.
The man made his way through the door back into the warehouse. Kosminski thought it might be the only chance he’ll get to inspect the body, to make sure the witch was dead. He felt it was his duty. He rose, ready to make his way over, when the man appeared back in the doorway.
Kosminski ducked back into the safety of the shadows and watched as the killer regarded the mess on the floor. He removed his hat before picking up the body parts he’d removed, obviously to get at the object he’d wanted. With care, he placed them next to the woman’s ruined body before folding her intestines, and other parts, over her shoulder.
He took his time over this, almost as if he was trying to keep the scene neat.
He then re-entered the warehouse.
Kosminski’s greedy eyes had taken in the whole, gruesome, scene from his vantage point, in the doorway of the warehouse adjacent to the attack. His bruised and bloodied face was shrouded in darkness. He lifted his arm and whispered into the communications device. ‘Abberline, I’m now in…’ he looked around for anything that would give him an indication of where he was. ‘Mitre Square,’ he said at last, seeing a sign on one of the walls. ‘I think he’s done another. It’s Kelly, sir, no, sorry, not Kelly, it is, erm…’
‘Eddowes?’ asked the voice from his wrist.
‘Yes, Eddowes. He’s ripped this one good and proper by the looks of things. There’s bits of her all over the shop.’
‘Is he still in the vicinity?’
‘Yes, he’s in a warehouse on the far side. Do you want me to go in?’ He hoped Abberline was going to say yes. He was craving a fight, after his failure with the woman.
‘No! I want you to wait for me there. I’m maybe… five minutes out, in a Hansom.’
‘What if he leaves?’
‘If he does, follow him, but keep in touch with me on this channel.’
‘On this what?’ he asked sounding confused.
‘Never mind. I’ll see you in a moment.’
As the communication ended, the killer exited the building.
He can’t be going for another one, could he? he thought excitedly. Kosminski watched as the man strolled out of the square towards Aldgate High Street. He didn’t seem to be in any rush as he strode down the cobbled lane. He turned onto Goulston Street before disappearing from sight.
Kosminski had an idea.
In his letter, which the press had taken into their hearts, he said he would take the ear lobe from his next victim. He decided it would be fun to do that, right now. It would also add some credence to his fabricated words.
He crept, ever so slowly towards the mess on the floor. He looked at the remains of Eddows, not really wanting to see the gruesome mess the killer had left; but needing to at the same time. It was all he could do not to vomit at the atrocities that had been performed on the poor woman’s body. Stop thinking of these as women, they’re anything but… he thought. He had a job to do, and as nasty as it was, he had to do it. He took the razorblade out of his pocket and quickly scalped at the earlobe of her right ear. ‘Finally getting a bit of work, eh, boy?’ he whispered to the razor. ‘Sweeny would be proud!’
The work was tougher than he’d imagined. He didn’t know if this was due to the cold, or to the blood coursing through his body, or even due to the beating he had taken a little earlier, but his sharp blade was shaking. By the time he finished, he had mutilated half of her face.
Finally, happy with his work, he put the ear in his pocket and limped off in the direction the mystery man had taken.
He made his way, as fast as he could, given his condition, down Aldgate High Street. He caught sight of his ward just prior to him disappearing into the darkness of another street. As the killer disappeared, Kosminski noticed something fall from the back of his cloak, something that looked a like a handkerchief.
He made his way towards the discarded rag and picked it up. Holding it by the corner with one finger and thumb, he was careful not to get any of the blood that was dripping from it anywhere near him. He studied the piece of cloth.
It was a shawl. It felt like it was made of silk. It was difficult to make out the design through the gore and blood, but it looked like it was printed with a design of Michaelmas daises.
Looking around the street, he was happy to see there was not another soul in sight. Thoughts a plenty were running through his head, none of them good. He had in mind a little bit of mischief. Something that Abberline did not have to know about, something that only he would know about. Something that could throw a spanner into the works of Abberline’s strange involvement in these crimes.
Kosminski was truly the kind of man who sought to watch the world burn.
A thought struck him.
It was a damned good one too.
There was already major conflict in Whitechapel due to the rise in numbers of Polish settlers, and already the Jewish population had separated themselves from the rest, causing suspicions and unrest. This could light a fire underneath all of that, and maybe even flush this bastard killer out into the open. A small piece of white stone had fallen from the arch of a dark doorway. He picked it up and studied it. Excellent, he thought, then scribbled something almost nonsensical onto the wall inside the archway.
Standing back, he admired his handiwork with a child-like grin growing on his face. He then dropped the blood-stained garment onto the floor next to the writing. He limped off in the direction of his home, humming a jaunty tune.
~~~~
Abberline stopped his Hansom Cab about a hundred yards away from the opening to Mitre Square. He thanked the driver, muttered something about policework never being done—he needed an excuse to be here—then payed him and let him go.
He waited for the carriage to disappear down the street before reaching inside his cape and removing his torch. He scanned the square for anything that resembled blood or a body and was rewarded as his beam found what looked like a bundle of clothes nestled in a corner. He stepped closer. He knew it was be a body, his years on the force had taught him that much. He checked behind him for any witnesses, before getting as close as he dared to his find.
He steeled himself for what he was about to see, but it didn’t do him any good. What he saw shocked him to the core. He wanted to identify the body, but the blood and her mutilated face made it an impossible job.
Careful not to get the thickening blood on his trousers, he kneeled next to the body and injected the corpse with a syringe and removed a little of her blood. He took a small box from his cape—the same one he had shown Kosminski in his room—and pressed one of the buttons. A compartment opened, and he squirted a little
of the blood inside before closing it. He pressed a few more buttons on a readout panel and waited for a few seconds.
A small beep announced that the portal had found a match, and a picture of Catherine Eddowes, wearing an EA uniform, flashed up on the screen.
He then removed a small spherical object from his cloak and activated it. The body was instantly bathed in green light. He frowned as he noticed the absence of what he was looking for.
The purple slug was not in her body.
He scanned the area with a black light filter on his torch and was quick to find a dark trail of blood hidden within the cracks of the cobblestones. The trail led back to a warehouse on the opposite side of the square.
He tried the door, but the lock wasn’t one that he was familiar with, even with his lockpicking kit. He stepped back and looked at it. Something didn’t add up with it. It was cleaner than the rest of the building. Removing his portal from his inside pocket, he pointed it at the door and the readout told him exactly what he needed to know. It was light locked.
It took him a few attempts to find the correct frequency, but due to the lack of tech in this age, it wasn’t too difficult to find. Soon the door dissolved into a million fragments of light.
Inside was huge, but sparse. There was a stink in the air that he recognised, instantly. ‘Hello? Is there anyone here?’ he half whispered; half shouted into the cavernous room.
There was no answer.
He knew there was someone here, his hunch was screaming at him, so he continued his search with caution.
The smell of sweat and faeces that he’d noticed earlier was cloying, almost to the point where it was making him baulk. As he entered further, he could just about make something out in the darkness. He had an inkling of what it was but couldn’t be sure. A small beep from inside his cloak informed him of more out-of-time technology in his immediate vicinity. He sighed and turned his torch back on. What he saw in the beam shocked him at first. It was a naked woman, sitting, seemingly untethered, on a chair in the centre of the room.
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