The Reaper's Touch

by Robert Southworth

  William now found himself looking up at the impressive building. It’s almost pure white Portland stone seemed impervious to the grime that affected much of the city. Its columns, which were mere carved representations, suggested that the club would stand proud and accompany the Empire through centuries.

  “Should we wait here, William?” Jack asked.

  “You will both stay at my side. If I am to enter the gates of hell, I would rather have company.” He walked towards the main door and after stopping briefly and shaking his head, he stepped across the threshold. Once inside, a man immediately approached them. He wore a tunic and an expression that suggested he had just smelt the stench of a dead cat.”

  “May I enquire if you gentlemen are guests?” The man’s eyebrow rose, giving the impression of mocking his own question.

  “We are with Scotland Yard. We need to speak to one of your members.” William’s confident tone was enough to suggest that it would be unwise to ignore the order.

  “If you are not a member or in possession of an invitation, then I cannot allow you entrance.”

  “Oh, I do not want to come in, good sir, you are going to fetch Tobias Simms for me,” William ordered, using his military tone to good effect. He was beginning to lose his patience.

  “I would ask you to leave, sirs. Our members are not summoned by the likes of you.” Two men appeared from a side door, blocking the remainder of the corridor from view. He imagined that, had they had been covered in hair, they would pass quite adequately as particularly large bears. However, William was not in the mood to be dismissed and in the briefest of moments, the cold metal barrels of his pepperbox barrels were resting against the man’s forehead.

  “Now, do you call for Tobias Simms or does Whites become a little less white.” The two goliaths stopped in their tracks. William pondered the thought that this was a new experience for them, that someone should challenge them.

  “William, my dear boy - how are you?” A familiar face squeezed past the two shaved bears.

  “Gilbert, I am positively buoyant. I am just discussing the guest list with my friend here.” William felt he was going to enjoy this latest development. Gilbert Henry Heathcote-Drummond-Willoughby or as society knew him, the Earl of Ancastor was an old family friend.

  “Ah, you were always one for passionate discussion.” Gilbert raised a finger and gently pushed the barrels of the pepperbox, away to face the wall. “Perhaps, I can be of assistance.”

  “I need to speak to Tobias Simms. It is a rather important matter.”

  “Ah Tobias, I know him well, but you won’t find him here, William. He hasn’t visited this place in over a year.

  William realised that he had been fooled. He put the pepperbox away and thanked Gilbert for his assistance. Keeping his fury under control, he managed a few pleasantries with his old friend. After finally excusing himself, William stepped out into the street and cursed. It was at the point he realised that he had already met Tobias Simms. He remembered the butler’s ill-fitting jacket and how the man wearing it was so keen to see William, and his men leave his property. He cursed again and stormed up the street leaving both Jack and Gossup a little confused.

  ∞∞∞

  The house was small, but Isaac knew that compared to the squalor much of London’s populace endured, this was relatively luxurious. Rebecca rapped her alabaster knuckles against the door, as she did so, she turned to Isaac and whispered, “This is Sam’s place. He lives here with his wife and young son. He could not afford to do so, without Mrs. Holbrook’s helping hand. Would a man shown such generosity betray her?”

  “I am not here to accuse anyone, Rebecca. Tell me, was Alfred shown the same generosity?”

  “Alfred was not an easy man to like. Besides, his time in Mrs. Holbrook’s employ was relatively short. I don’t think he ever understood her willingness to help the less fortunate.” Isaac was about to reply, when the door opened.

  “Rebecca, what are you doing here?” The large, muscular man filled the doorway. His skin was pale, and the obvious signs of sleep deprivation were clear for all to see. Isaac recalled that Rebecca had mentioned him being a new father.

  “Don’t be rude, Sam,” a voice echoed from within, “ask Rebecca in.”

  “Sorry,” Sam grumbled, and managed a small smile as he wiped the tiredness from his eyes. He stood aside and motioned for Rebecca and Isaac to enter.

  The room was functional, but lacked finery. Here and there, attempts had been made to add colour and a homely feel. A vase with freshly picked flowers stood out in stark contrast in the sombre interior.

  “What is wrong, Rebecca?” A woman asked, she cradled a young child in her arms.

  “Oh Mary, It’s ...“Rebecca began to sob as she struggled to deliver the sorrowful news.

  “If I may? My name is Isaac Naismith. I support Scotland Yard with certain investigations. I am sorry to inform you that Mrs. Holbrook has been murdered.” His words crashed through the room like a sledge hammer, smashing rock. Sam was a giant of a man with powerful limbs to match. However, he suddenly seemed unable to support his own weight. He grasped a chair and promptly slumped his considerable bulk onto its slender frame. The timbers of the furniture creaked beneath the onslaught.

  “I told her. I bloody-well told her,” Sam said, showing signs of anger and sadness. He raised his large hands and brushed the tears from his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What happened to Rebecca was a terrible thing.” He reached over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But I told Mrs. Holbrook it was too dangerous. If the entire police force could not bring the Ripper to justice, then perhaps powerful people were protecting him. However, her mind was set, and there was no turning her from what she believed in.”

  “I need to know all that Mrs. Holbrook knew.” Isaac pressed.

  “I know very little. I offered my help, but she told me that a man with a young family had no business getting involved in the sordid world of murder.”

  “You must know something.”

  Sam closed his eyes as if trying to remember the slightest of details. “When Rebecca was mending from her injuries, Alfred and I were sent to deliver messages in sealed envelopes, which we were given instruction not to open. I delivered envelopes to Mr. Stand who was one of Mrs. Holbrook’s closest friends. I also delivered a message to a Mr Kos – Kyst...” Sam struggled to pronounce the name.

  “Vladimir Kostya?” Isaac suggested.

  “Yes, Alfred was responsible for the other messages.”

  “Kostya, Stand and Alfred are all dead.”

  “Alfred betrayed her,” announced Rebecca, angrily, causing the baby to stir. “Oh, I am sorry.”

  “Nonsense,” replied Mary. “You have a right to be angry. I never liked Alfred, he was a sniffling worm of a man.”

  “I wish I had his bony little neck in my hands,” Sam announced and cracked his knuckles as if to emphasise the point.”

  “If his deceit is as we believe, then he deserved his fate. Sam, we found documents at Mr. Stand’s home. They seemed to give details of names, some were of people you have mentioned, but also there was an entry for the payment of significant funds. However, it made no mention to whom the funds were paid or for what service.

  “Alfred was sent upon an errand to recruit a Mr. Ruth, a retired officer in the army and friend of the late Mr. Holbrook. As I understand it, the gentlemen took a fall down his own stairs less than three weeks into his agreeing to help, broke his neck. Mrs. Holbrook then used the funds to entice a younger man to act as detective… I never knew his name. I only know this much because Alfred had been outraged at the cost of what he believed to be folly. He was a man ruled by the glint of a few coins; little or nothing else mattered to him.” Mary suddenly gasped.

  “Oh, Sam what will happen to us now? We cannot afford the rent on our home.”

  “Calm yourself Mary. I doubt that Mrs. Holbrook has not left provision for us in her will. She
cared for us in life, I am sure she will do the same in death. Besides, have I ever failed to put food on the table?”

  Despite Sam’s defiant attitude to what the future may hold, Isaac could see the flicker of concern on his face. “I am not without contacts; if you permit me, I could enquire about Mrs. Holbrook’s will, and perhaps speed the process a little. I cannot promise as to its contents; however, the sooner you know, the sooner you can plan for the future.”

  “I would be much obliged, Mr Naismith,” Sam replied.

  “Now, I must take my leave, the day is marching on and I still have a multitude of tasks to complete. I am truly sorry to have brought such grave news to your door, especially, as this should be a time of rejoicing with the little one arriving.” Isaac smiled at the young child in Mary’s arms.

  “His name is William, and at least he will bring joy to this night,” Mary replied.

  “A fine name. May he grow to match the strength of his father and the gentility of his mother.” He paused for a moment and watched the tiny child sleeping, oblivious to the cruelty of the world just beyond the door to the small residence. “Rebecca, may I escort you back to your lodgings?”

  “No need, Rebecca, you will stay with us this night. You shouldn’t be alone besides, I am sure you would like the chance to spend time with William.”

  “Oh, thank you Mary.”

  “Is there anything I can do, Mr. Naismith? I would like to lay my hands on the bastards.”

  Isaac looked at Sam. The man possessed tremendous power and was not by any means lacking intelligence. However, he then glanced around the room; he spied the loving wife as she cared for a young child.

  “No. Look to your family, Sam. Besides, I doubt Mrs. Holbrook would rest easy if I placed you in harm’s way. Nevertheless, I would speak with you briefly, if you could walk me out.”

  The two men rose, and Isaac said his farewells. Stepping into the street he waited for Sam to close the door.

  “Listen, I am certain that Rebecca is in no danger. However, this investigation has thrown up many surprises, and it does not bode well to be over confident. We are stretched for man power, and so I would like to accept your offer of help.”

  “Of course.”

  “I simply require you to become Rebecca’s shadow and ensure her safety. You will of course receive payment.”

  “I don’t need payment.”

  “You will accept payment, or I shall instruct a constable in the task.” Isaac lied, he had no authority to instruct an officer of the law. Sam was shocked by the sudden stern tone but reluctantly agreed with the proposal. Isaac took out a substantial amount of money and forced it into the bigger man’s hand.

  “That is too much.”

  “Really, what price do you put on a person’s life? I shall ensure you have more if needed. Now, I must be on my way. He turned to leave but was halted in his progress as Sam clasped him by the shoulder.

  “Mr. Naismith, thank you,” blushing as he spoke.

  Isaac smiled and gave a respectful nod; he had not known Sam long but knew he was a proud man, and his words of gratitude were sincere.

  Chapter 19

  William and his men once again approached the front door of Tobias Simm’s home. He rapped his calloused knuckles heavily against its timbers. He could have used the black iron knocker with its ornate carved lion head but he was annoyed, and felt the urge to lash out. Footsteps could be heard approaching, but he hammered on the door once again just to quench his thirst for violence. The door swung open, and to the former officer’s surprise, a much younger man stood to his front. William quickly recovered, his annoyance returning.

  “Where is he?” William demanded.

  “How dare you...” The young man was not permitted to finish voicing his outrage.

  “Be quiet! We are trying to save his life.”

  “How is my father supposed to know whether you are friend or foe?”

  “The killers hunting your father do not knock on the bloody front door. They creep in the dead of night and slit your throat before you know they exist. Then they take their blades and cut you to pieces - even your own mother wouldn’t recognise the body.” He used harsh words to impress on the young man the severity of his father’s situation. The son of Tobias Simm paled, and the concern he had for his father was plain for all to see.

  “He is not here,” he replied meekly.

  “Then, where is he?”

  “At his factory.”

  “Where?” William snapped.

  The man took a card from his jacket pocket and offered it to William. “He left after your last visit,”

  “If this is another falsehood, I will kill the old bastard myself.” William snatched the card and turned on his heels.

  ∞∞∞

  The daylight was now in full-blown retreat from the advancing dark. William stepped from the carriage and felt the cobbles of Upper Thames Street beneath his feet. As he and his companions proceeded on their journey, they passed an array of London’s populace. The time of the day suggested many had finished their back-breaking work for the day. Tired and weary faces barely acknowledged William and his men. The workers required food and rest before rising before the sun to begin another day.

  William’s small group had travelled about one hundred paces when Jack pointed to a building across the street. ‘Simm’s Linen’ was a great bulk of a building. It dwarfed the majority of the neighbouring properties. However, even in the dim light it was plain to see that the business had fallen on hard times. William was not surprised, most linen productions had moved from these shores to Ireland. Labour costs were far cheaper across the Irish Sea. The outside of the factory showed signs of wear and tear. It was strange that the building should sum up a feeling of loneliness. One part of the frontage, however, looked in pristine condition. A sign recently attached to the building, which declared that the Simm’s Linen had ceased trading.

  William could not help wondering why Tobias Simm was visiting a closed factory so late at night; a factory that showed no outward sign of life. He moved toward the entrance and without knocking to declare his arrival, he lifted the latch of the door. Beyond the door a narrow corridor stretched into the darkness. In the distance, the familiar flickering of a candle or lamp lit the shape of another doorway. William went in, sensing the others behind him. He turned around and put a finger to his lips to indicate that silence was needed. He proceeded with caution, quietly approaching the spectral light. Drawing closer, it became apparent that it emanated from a tiny office that lay just before the far doorway. William carefully peered through a small partition. There, seated on a chair, was what William assumed to be the night watchman. The light danced across the watchman’s features to reveal a man of considerable advancing years, and the fact that he seemed to be fast asleep. William gave a polite cough, but the watchman did not stir.

  “Gossup, you can fit through this hatchway, over you go.”

  “William, I am no young buck anymore. I’m past the days of climbing through the windows.” Despite his words of protest, Gossup was already clambering from the corridor into the small watchman’s office. After a great deal of scrabbling and at one point losing his footing, Gossup managed to stand upright. William watched as Gossup shook the old man.

  “Is he dead?” William asked. In response Gossup placed a hand next to the old man’s lips.

  “No, he is breathing.” Gossup’s foot collided with an object on the floor. He disappeared from William’s view as he bent low and retrieved the item. “A tankard and by the looks of it, the majority has been spilled on the floor.”

  “The he could have been poisoned - a sleeping draught perhaps?” Jack suggested. Gossup dropped the tankard and wiped his hands on his trousers.

  “We may already be too late - come on, Goss.”

  “I will use the door if you don’t mind.”Gossup disappeared through a door not visible through the hatchway. Moments later, he reappeared a few yards down the corridor.


  William moved past Gossup, leading the way into the inner depths of the factory. The Simm’s Linen Company was mainly shrouded in darkness but here and there, a small lamp gave patches of light. William assumed that this was to light the watchman’s path as he carried out his patrols of the factory. Gossup was about to speak, when William held up a hand.