The Reaper's Touch

by Robert Southworth

  Twenty minutes later, the blood-drenched figure rose from the dismembered body. Although his beast-like thirst for savagery had been quenched, he now felt shame. It was not for the evil he had committed, but because he had allowed his lust to take charge of his actions. He followed a greater calling; a calling that had moved beyond slaughtering whores. He gathered bedding and any paper that was within the room. He placed the makeshift kindling strategically around the body. He then grasped one of the small candles, which had tried their best to light the room, he lit the paper. It was a surprise to him that it took so long for the flames to begin in earnest. He waited until he was sure that the body would be consumed. He had no wish for the world to be witness to his shame. As he stepped into the alley, the heavy rain began to wash the blood spray from his face. Once more, he pulled up the collar to his coat without another thought to the slaughter he had committed. As he stepped quietly into the shadows of the old city, the first cries of alarm could be heard.

  Chapter 11

  It was fortunate for William and his friends that the sudden burst of rain only arrived as they approached his home. It was, however, enough to make each of them burst into a run. The group entered William’s home at the gallop. On arrival, Emily busied herself gathering towels and passing them around to each member of the group. The household staff had already left for the day and so William, and Obadiah made up the fires in the kitchen and study.

  An hour had passed before the guests were warm and comfortable. William suggested coffee would be better than alcohol now the time had come to discuss the investigation. Emily used her skill to manoeuvre Bessie away from Jack and promised to return with the refreshment.

  “Isaac, what news have you from Kostya’s?” William asked. However, before Isaac could reply, Abberline gave a cough and when William looked in his direction, the Inspector nodded towards John and Tom. The gesture did not go unnoticed by John Branford who rose from his seat.

  “Come on Tom, let’s help with the coffee.” He grasped the younger man by the shoulder, and with a little force, ensured Tom knew it was not a request.

  “You do not have to leave John,” William announced, although he questioned himself whether it was wise to have the two men present.

  “The Inspector is right, Mr. Harkness. Me and Tom have not proven our loyalty. It would be best if we waited elsewhere.” As he spoke he eyed Abberline with a resentful glare. Abberline did not buckle under his stare and even managed a small rebellious smile. John reached out a hand and with a little more force than was necessary pulled the Tom towards the door. William watched the two men leave and then rounded on Abberline.

  “Was that strictly necessary?” William felt duty-bound to ask, after all, he had asked John to become one of his men.

  “What was the first piece of advice I gave you, William?” He continued without waiting for a reply. “This city is treacherous and the people within, more so. Trust is a luxury; the cemetery is filled to the brim with those too eager to call another man a friend.”

  William knew that Abberline was right but was loathed to admit it to him. Besides, William knew that treating men like outcasts could also prove to be dangerous. Fortunately, another guest moved the conversation back to the investigation.

  “My search of Kostya’s home produced little in terms of possible reasons for his murder.” Isaac announced.

  “But Emily said you had news,” William replied.

  “It’s more - that I have discovered that Kostya was a man of secrets. This man appeared in London a little over two years ago. Before that, it seems there was no Vladimir Kostya. His business dealings since his emergence have been aggressive but as far as I can see perfectly legal.”

  “So, we are no wiser as to the reason he was killed?”

  “There was something else. Kostya was a Jew. He was also a man who was keen to keep his religion a secret. His office held a locked cupboard, and within the cupboard, he stored his religion like a dirty secret.”

  “I expect he isn’t the first to keep his beliefs to himself.”

  “I feel this is more than that, William. He’s a secretive man and yet many of his business dealings were there for all to see. Only his religion was locked away. I feel it was important to Kostya that it remained hidden from prying eyes.”

  “We know that the men we have hunted before hated all immigrants.” Abberline interrupted. “Plus, the night Catherine Eddowes was murdered, we found part of her bloodied clothing in Goulston Street. Above where the piece of her apron lay, a passage was written in white chalk. The passage seemed to suggest that the Jews were responsible for the murders.”

  “Rage was never too far away on the streets. The murders only added to the tension between all communities in Whitechapel,” added Isaac. “If you wanted to rid the city of a certain group, it makes sense to use the populace as a weapon.”

  “Maybe they have changed tactic and have decided just to kill Jews,” Abberline replied.

  “Let us not get ahead of ourselves.” William raised a hand as he spoke to calm their excitable theories. “We have one person killed for an unknown reason. The others that have died at this point seem to have been sacrificed to cover the tracks of the killer or killers.”

  “So, what’s our next move?” Jack asked feeling a little surplus to requirements.

  William took a moment to think. He had listened to Abberline and Isaac, and it just seemed too easy. When they had hunted Locke, he had always had the feeling that there was someone pulling the strings, as a puppet master manipulates his dolls. Nothing was ever how it first appeared to be, could it really be as simple as killing Jews at random? Was this just about some petty prejudice? He wished he had poured himself a glass of whiskey. The sharp burning liquid always helped focus his thoughts. “Isaac, you take young Tom back to the Lyceum. Speak to everyone. See if we have missed anything, and if they knew of Kostya’s beliefs.” William reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved the gold ring taken from the mouth of the dead Kostya. “Gossup, you have contacts – take this and find out all you can.” He threw the ring to Gossup. “It is an unusual piece; someone must know something. Jack, you and John can come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” Jack asked.

  “We are going to let Bessie take us on a little journey. We need to know who Kostya was in contact with outside the city.” William turned to Abberline, “I wish you could join us.”

  “So do I William, but I am at the will of my masters. With good fortune, I shall return the city within a few weeks.”

  William nodded his agreement. He also could not help thinking that it was unfortunate that Abberline be called away the moment the killings resume. William had never been a great believer in coincidence. However, since hunting the Ripper, he had reached the conclusion that nothing happened by chance. He asked himself if the Ripper’s influence stretched into the halls of power.

  ∞∞∞

  Only Abberline refused William’s offer to stay the night and avoid the substantial downpour. It meant that the following morning was the most hectic William had witnessed since his days within the ranks. He’d entered the kitchen to observe both Obadiah and Emily preparing breakfast. Bessie was pouring coffee for the rest of the guests who were seated at the large kitchen table.

  Emily approached William, and kissed him gently on the cheek as she spoke. “I doubted you were ever going to rise. Sleep badly, my love?” William nodded and she asked, “Coffee?”

  William looked around the table, all of them seemed in good spirits. He somehow knew that each of them would face peril in the coming weeks. It was the same when he commanded men in the ranks. It was, if anything more dangerous on the streets within the city. The enemy could be anywhere, lurking in the shadows of an alley or sitting at this very table. There was no opposing army, the unfurling of banners or the banging of drums. No regiments to be blown apart by shot or shell. Deceit, and intelligence, were the weapons of choice, and William could not help but f
eel out of his depth.

  “William, would you like coffee?” Emily asked again, gently squeezing William’s bicep to break him free of his thoughts.

  “Please.” He raised his hand and stroked Emily’s cheek.

  “I have arranged a carriage,” announced Isaac. “It will be here within the hour.”

  “Thank you. When each of you has finished with your tasks, return to Slaughter Yard. We will gather there to share any further information that we have obtained,” he paused for a moment, “I suspect that the killers of Kostya are connected to the Ripper. I do not have to elaborate on how lethal that makes this investigation. Gossup you will be alone in your task; do not idle in your work. Get it done and then get back to the Yard. From that point, you are to remain together until I return.” As Obadiah bent to refill William’s cup, the former soldier whispered into his ear. “Do not leave Emily.” Obadiah did not reply with words; the slightest nods of the head acknowledged his acceptance of the task. “John, I have decided you will return to Slaughter Yard. Abberline has two young constables stationed there, but I believe it would be in our interests to have one of our own men as a point of contact. “

  “Of course, Mr. Harkness,” John replied, struggling to keep the smile from his face.

  “My name is William. Be on your guard, the constables are raw recruits and are nothing more than sentries.” He remembered that one of his own men met an untimely end at Slaughter Yard. “Seriously John, do not rely on the building to provide safety.”

  “Yes, William.”

  ∞∞∞

  When the meal had been finished and the farewells done, William, Jack and Bessie climbed aboard the awaiting carriage. Bessie told Jack in which directions the carriage needed to go and he relayed them to the driver. Moments later, a shout split the air, and the carriage lurched forward. Jack sat close to Bessie and casually struck up a conversation. William could tell that Jack was attracted to Bessie and so he decided to allow their friendship to blossom undisturbed. He contented himself by watching the old city through the carriage window.

  The carriage began to slow as the driver prepared to manoeuvre both beast and load around a tight turn. William felt rage as his eyes met those of a man he despised. William barked out an order for the driver to stop.

  Jack sat upright, obviously sensing danger. “What is it, William?”

  “Stay with Bessie.” William leapt from the carriage and before he had landed his pistol was in his hand, ready to fire. The sight of a man seemingly deranged and brandishing a weapon, made many in the street cry out in alarm. William, however, was unconcerned with the fear he had created. His concentration was on finding one figure in the crowd. “Where are you – you bastard?” Finally, a hand gently grasped his arm.

  “William, what is it?” Jack said, concern etched on his face.

  “That arrogant bastard was here,” William replied. His anger, although lessening, did not yet abate.

  “Who?”

  “Smith! He’s always watching.”

  “I don’t see anyone, William, apart from anxious public, trying to get away from a madman with a pistol!”

  “He was here, I tell you.”

  “Well he’s not here now. We have a task to complete.”

  “Yes – of course.” William suddenly became aware of countless eyes all focused on him. Sheepishly, William led Jack back to the carriage and they regained their places. William made a half-hearted attempt at an apology for the disturbance. He felt ashamed as he saw the obvious distress he’d caused Bessie. “Sorry,” he mumbled and pulled the collar of his jacket up high. Initially he pretended to drift off to sleep, in an attempt to avoid further embarrassment. The movement of the carriage and lack of sleep the previous night, however, soon made him slip into real slumber. The scraping of the metal rims that protected the wheels from the hard road surface transported the former soldier back to the battlefield. The rims became the sound of swords and bayonets as they were pulled free of scabbards. In the far recesses of William’s mind, men screamed, torn apart by bloody battle.

  Jack saw, disconcertingly, how Bessie did not take her eyes from William. Once William was asleep, she appeared to pluck the courage to whisper to Jack, “Is he all right?”

  “William Harkness is one of the finest men I have ever met.”

  “But he seemed so – so crazed.” She blurted out the last couple of words as though she had been caught stealing.

  Jack smiled, and then placed and comforting hand on Bessie’s shoulder. “Do not concern yourself. William is a leader of men, and as so, he carries a weight that I could not bear. When the time comes he will not be found wanting.” Bessie seemed to relax upon hearing Jack’s reassuring words. However, as she took her eyes from the sleeping man and concentrated on the passing countryside, it was Jack who found himself staring at William. He had never seen witnessed William so ill at ease. As he watched William, the man he so admired gave a groan, announcing to Jack that even his slumber was plagued by demons, Jack wished he could see what troubled his friend.

  If Jack had been able to peer into the mind of William he would have been witness to the carnage of battle. He would have seen the rising of Afghan blades as they swept down to tear apart the flesh of British soldiers. He would observe a brave sergeant drenched in the blood of his enemy as he barked orders to his men, and foul curses at the overwhelming foe. Jack would have recognised the man fighting desperately for his life. He would have seen his own brother, despite his heroic actions, fall beneath the slashing blades.

  Chapter 12

  It was a number of hours before William called for the carriage to make a stop. He opened the carriage door and stepped into the sunlight. Bessie popped her head out of the carriage; she was obviously confused as to why William had called a halt to the journey.

  “We haven’t far to go,” she said meekly.

  “We will continue shortly. Unfortunately, an old wound of mine does not like the cramped conditions.” He rubbed the top of his thigh. “It grumbles its annoyance with vigour. Would you like to stretch your legs?” William held out his hand to offer assistance.

  “Yes, thank you sir.” Bessie accepted the helping hand and stepped from their transport.” The two stood in awkward silence for a few moments before finally, Bessie spoke, “Why are you being so kind to me.”

  “Kind?”

  “Firstly, you took me into your home. Then, I am treated as an equal, and provided the very best of clothes.”

  “I brought you into my home to keep you safe. What has happened from that point is Emily’s doing.” Realising that he had sounded pompous, William added, “In truth, Emily is without family and my duties take me from her side far too often. It is I that should be thanking you. Your presence has provided Emily with a companion. And a very pleasant one at that.”

  Bessie blushed. “Still, you have shown me great kindness.”

  “Well, we’d best move.” William felt a stab of guilt; bringing Bessie into his household was not an altruistic act. He had hoped that taking her under his wing might lure the killers into the open. “The day progresses and I would like to return to the city before nightfall.”

  William assisted Bessie to board the carriage. The driver called out to his beasts and they continued on with their journey. Jack, who missed the brief stop, stirred from his sleep. “Are we near?”

  “We need to tell the driver to take the next track on the left,” Bessie replied. She seemed sure of her directions and so William passed the instruction onto the driver. Then he turned and for some time studied Bessie. At times she seemed as timid as a kitten but just now and then, so self-assured. Despite the new side to Bessie’s character, William worried if visions of slaughter lay at their destination and the impact it would have on the former maid’s mind.

  “You will remain in the carriage when we arrive. Jack and I will ensure it is safe before you venture inside. Do you have your pistol, Jack?”

  “I do, though I am no marksma
n.” Jack retrieved his pistol from his jacket. The look on his face told William how his friend would clearly prefer to use his fists.

  “Well if there is to be trouble, don’t let the enemy know that.” William smiled, as he took out his own pistol and made sure it was loaded. Bessie paled at the sight of the weapon. “It is unlikely the weapon will be needed, but it never hurts to be prepared,” he said, trying to reassure the young woman at their side.