∞∞∞
Emily placed a fresh dressing on Jack’s thigh. As she did so, William paced like a caged tiger from one side of the room to the other. He paused now and then to glance through the window into the street below.
“William, will you take a bloody drink,” Obadiah growled. He was sat preparing a number of pistols; including the pepperbox that had been fired in the park.
“Drink? My men could be dying out there – I should be combing the city.”
“And achieve what? You have no idea where they are and London is a great beast of a place. You are better off here and be ready to welcome them home.” William, however, stopped listening. His eyes had been drawn to the carriage that had suddenly stopped directly outside his home. As he watched he saw Isaac half step, half tumble from the carriage. Without saying a word William rushed from the room. Emily tried in vain to prevent him heading down the street, grabbing hold of his arm, though William managed to shake her grip in the corridor.
He emerged from his front door, sensing Obadiah at his rear. “Stay and watch for trouble, Isaac.”
“What happened?” noticed his friend’s pallor, and then his blood-soaked torso.
“We were attacked,” Isaac replied. William helped him into the safety of the household and he and Obadiah laid him gently on a couch.
“Where is Tom?” William asked.
“He’s dead.” Isaac struggled to keep his emotions in check; the thought of the young man’s death was almost too much to bear. “We stopped at Gamages…Tom stepped in a puddle and decided to wait outside. He wanted to remove the soaked boot and sock. I was only gone a few minutes, William – I am so sorry.”
“Calm yourself. Emily, we need bandages.”
Emily grasped Bessie by the hand and led her in the hunt for medical supplies. “Come with me. We may need to rip some sheets. We have no idea how many more will arrive with injuries.”
As Emily left the room, William helped Isaac from his jacket. “What happened to Tom?” he asked.
“By the time I came out to look for him, he was already dead. They must have been following us, and took the first opportunity.”
“So how did you come to be injured?”
“The bastards were crouched over Tom’s body. They... God, it’s unspeakable what they did to him –”
“What, Isaac? What did they do?” William asked, fearing what Isaac was going to tell them.
“They – they had cut his head off.” Isaac was shaking. He covered his face in his hands. “Why do that to a man? They would have taken my head too… one walked away with Tom’s head as the other tried to kill me. I froze – and he cut me without me raising a hand to defend myself. I would have died, but the man with the knife started to insult Tom. He told me the lad had cried for his mother,” Isaac began to sob. “He laughed, laughed at Tom’s misery.”
“How did you escape?”
“Oh, I didn’t run. He shouldn’t have laughed at poor Tom. I killed him…” Isaac suddenly looked angry as the tears washed the despair from his face. “He isn’t laughing now.”
“Good. The bastard deserved to die.” William replied.
“But why take Tom’s head?” Isaac shook his head unable to comprehend the act of violence.
“I don’t know what drives their insanity, they did the same to the professor.”
Isaac was shocked to hear the professor’s fate. “What happened to Jack?”
“He was attacked in the park. I believe the Ripper has decided to wipe the city clean of my men. Hired thugs are hunting us, we still await news from Goss, John and Abberline.”
“Abberline is in London?” Isaac looked at William enquiringly.
“We believe he has been lured back to the city.”
“That would mean that the Ripper has influence at Scotland Yard. How else would he know the Inspector’s location in Liverpool?” Isaac paused as Obadiah started to clean his wound. He shifted uncomfortably but forced his mind to focus through the pain. “And why lure Abberline back to London when you could have easily slit his throat in Liverpool? It’s symbolic William, and the murders are for your benefit.”
“I am not sure how killing us can be for my benefit.”
“They are not killing us, William. There has been no attempt upon your life. They are laying the bodies of your friends at your feet. They are destroying those that show you loyalty. There is an old saying… that suggests that by ‘cutting the head from a snake destroys the body’. I believe they are cutting the heads off the body, to destroy the head. They know that your men and also your friends, they clearly deem it as a weakness.”
Hearing Isaac’s words did not amuse William. He walked to the window and gazed into the rain drenched streets and wondered whether his men were alive or dead.
∞∞∞
Gossup knew he was being followed. He knew that perhaps he should seek out a more public place for safety; a plethora of witnesses could deter a possible attack. Gossup, however, was not that kind of man. During the years he’d served in the ranks of the British army, it was true that his name had become infamous. If a dark deed needed to be carried out, then his would be the first name called for by various commanding officers. If enemy scouts needed to be silenced before the main column went into battle, Gossup would ensure that they never saw the light of another day, or raise an alarm.
The docks as always were teaming with life. Gossup, sought a small pocket of peace, a place for him to do his work. It did not take long for him to find such a location, a section of the docks that was home to spoiled and broken crates that reached skywards. In a few hours as the light failed, the less fortunate of the city would descend on the location and pick it clean. The watchmen didn’t even try to prevent the theft; the docks after nightfall, were no place to pick a fight. That, however, would be long after Gossup and his followers had settled their differences. Gossup swooped to collect a broken pick handle. It would make a clumsy and unsophisticated weapon but no less effective than the finest blade.
Gossup waited in the shadows. As two men rounded the crates, Gossup swept the broken pick handle through the air. One of his would-be assassins crumpled beneath the impact, and as he fell he collided with his comrade, and both were sent sprawling. Only one remained conscious, and he held his blade aloft to ward off any further attack. The pitiful threat was answered with another sweeping blow with the pick. His forearm snapped beneath Gossup’s ferocious blow, and the blade dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Gossup threw down the pick handle and drew the wickedly curved custom-made blade from his jacket. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you wished me harm?”
“Paid to do so,” the man replied through gritted teeth.
“Who by?”
“I don’t know, our entire gang were given targets.”
Gossup was suddenly concerned, his friends were obviously in danger. “What were your orders?” the man refused to speak but the look on his face was worth a thousand words. “You were going to kill me – your gang hunts my friends.” Gossup leaned in close and clasped the man by the hair.
“You work for the police… you have to take me in,” the man declared but his tone was one born of fear.
“I work for William Harkness, and I am no copper.” He brought the blade sweeping down; it sliced the vulnerable flesh of the man’s throat. The would-be killer raised his one good arm to his neck. He felt the cut. The relief was visible for all to see as he realised that the cut was not fatal. Gossup moved close to his enemy and locked him a thunderous stare. “This is your first and last warning; stay away from me and my friends or the cut will deepen.” Gossup stepped back and then brought his fist up with all his might. The blow caught the man squarely on the jaw. Gossup strode away, determined to seek out his friends. To his rear two men lay beaten, cut and unconscious.
∞∞∞
A knock sounded at the door of the Harkness household. William picked up the pepperbox and moved silently to the window. He car
efully peered out, but the angle was poor and the visitor was standing too close to the building to reveal his identity. William told the others to remain where they were as he ventured to see if it was friend or foe who had come calling. The door was jerked open, and the pepperbox pistol rose immediately.
“Well, I have had better welcomes.”
“Fred!” William rushed forward and embraced the unsuspecting inspector.
“I think I preferred the pistol.” Abberline was taken aback at William’s unusual show of emotion.
“Come inside, quickly.”
Moments later, Frederick Abberline was shown into the sitting room and a beverage thrust into his hand. He observed the weapons on the small table and the bloodied bandages that adorned Jack and Isaac.
“They are hunting us down, Fred.”
“Who are?”
“I’m guessing the Ripper’s hired thugs. The Professor and Tom are dead. Isaac and Jack as you can see are injured, and we are yet to know the fate of Goss and John. We also believed that you were a target.”
“There are two men on the floor of my lodgings that testify to that fact.”
“Did you question them?”
“It proved to be difficult. One has a hole where his head should be and the other will not wake for a number of hours.”
∞∞∞
The day wore on as those at the Harkness residence awaited news. On hearing the metal rims of a carriage wheel as they scraped to a halt, William rushed to the window. He observed Faraday step into the street, and then felt relief as the familiar faces of Gossup and John came into view. The three men were welcomed with enthusiasm. William gratefully shook Faraday’s hand for bringing his men safely home. Frederick Abberline cut across the celebrations. “We still have killers out there. I think it best for you and your men to leave the city.”
“I will not run,” William replied, indignant at the suggestion.
“It’s not running, it’s withdrawing to a position of safety until we have an opportunity to assess the danger. We have a man in custody – let the police do their work.”
Faraday interrupted, “William, he is right, your men are in no condition to continue the fight.”
“Then my men will go to Cloveney, I will stay.”
Emily’s tone was stern. “William! You will not dessert your men.”
“Emily, you don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” She was flushed with anger. “I watch you leave each day not knowing if you will return. The only thing that brings me comfort, is knowing that these men stand at your side. Loyalty goes both ways, William, you will stand at their side.”
Emily’s anger forced the room into an awkward silence. It was Frederick Abberline, who finally braved the embarrassment.
“That is settled then - William you will go to Cloveney until we have done our work.”
“No,” Faraday interrupted once more, “Abberline, you will be accompanying William. We cannot do our work with you being one of the hunted. It would put the men at risk. Do not argue, this is London and for the time being, I have superiority.”
“Very well,” Abberline grumbled.
“One hour, William. I shall have transport to carry you and your household to Cloveney Hall. You will have an escort, but they will need to return once your journey is at an end. Are you able to look to your own protection?”
“Yes, I have men at Cloveney.” It was a half-truth. He knew some of the staff at Cloveney would want to help keep him safe – whether he would accept their offer was another matter.
“Then I will take my leave.” Faraday gave a nod to the rest of the room and made his exit.
Chapter 27
Rain lashed the darkening streets of London. William, watching from an upstairs window, observed the scene in the street below, as Faraday, dissuaded not by the weather and the lack of light, remained true to his word. Three carriages arrived at William’s home within the hour. Each carriage had a constable at the reins and another seated next to him, armed with a rifle. Flanking the carriages were eight mounted constables, all appeared to be carrying rifles and sidearms.
William and the other members within the household moved without fuss to the awaiting transport. Jack and Isaac were both afforded help because of their injuries against their wishes. Emily, however, cut through their bravado. She pointed out that the longer they took to reach the transport the wetter the bandages would become and applying dressings in the carriage would be no easy matter. Both men faltered beneath her withering stare. Faraday approached William as he stepped out of the front door, with two constables at his back.
“These two will watch your home. If the killers see that the place is under guard, then perhaps they will think you are still in residence.”
William held out a hand to the Inspector. “Thank you, Faraday, now get yourself out of this downpour.”
William did not rush for the shelter of a carriage he dawdled until he was sure that each passenger was safely aboard the transports. He also wondered if those that wished his men dead were watching. If that was the case, then he would not give them the enjoyment of watching him scurry away like a whipped dog. When finally he opened the door of the lead carriage, he paused before climbing in, for he still had doubts over leaving the city. The slender hand of Emily, emerged from the interior, grasping him by the jacket, and pulling him in.
Before the carriages had gone more than a hundred paces, William flung the door open and leapt into the street, moving at speed. William heard the constables dismayed yells as they fought to bring the horses under control. William ignored the calls for him to return as he ran to a doorway where, from the carriage window, he had viewed the small body of a boy.
As William brought the child back to the carriage, cradled in his arms, he felt Emily’s eyes on him as she watched him from the open door. The boy, Alfie, was soaked to the skin and felt like ice to the touch.
“Is he...” she faltered; afraid to finish the question.
“He’s alive but won’t be for long if we don’t get him out of these clothes.”
“Do we go back?”
“No, get him in the carriage.” William passed the boy through the doorway. He turned and raced to the back of the carriage. He grappled with the strapping that held the luggage in place. Moments later, he had returned to the carriage with a case. He jumped on board and immediately stripped the boy of his clothes. When the boy had been re-dressed in a few of William’s garments, he was laid on Emily’s lap. She held him close to share her body heat. Alfie was trying to speak, but his apparent exhaustion prevented any coherent sentence. Eventually, he slipped into an uneasy slumber. Before long, William joined him.
Sometime later, the convoy stopped and William dismounted from the carriage to stretch his legs. The rain had lessened to a depressive drizzle and he was joined by those passengers who were also awake and needing to ease their cramped muscles. William moved to the back of the convoy and watched the road they had recently travelled. It was not long before John, Abberline and the injured Jack, were standing at his shoulder.
“Any sign?” Abberline asked.
“If they have skill then they could be twenty paces away, and we would be none the wiser.”
“Well if they are getting information from the Yard, then they will know we are on the move. They are just as likely to be waiting for us on the road up ahead, as following us. Hopefully, Faraday has applied his covert skills, when arranging our carriages.” William was surprised to hear his friend admit that Scotland Yard may have been infiltrated by the Ripper’s followers.
“We have to be prepared for all possibilities.” William replied. William saw that John was looking pensive. “Are you all right, John? You look deep in thought. Is anything bothering you?”
“Will Tom be buried?” John asked, turning concerned eyes to William.
His words made William realise how painful the death of Tom would be to John. He had, after all, been more of a fathe
r than friend to the young man. William’s mind had been more focused on protecting the living, rather than understanding their grief. “We will ensure he gets a funeral befitting his sacrifice. He will not be forgotten, John.”
“He was a good lad… his mother will need to be told.”
William could not think of any words that would soothe John’s grief, he simply placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Well if they do come, it will cost them dear.” Abberline’s statement was a clear attempt to change the sombre mood. The other men nodded their agreement.
William took a flask from his jacket and offered it around the small group. On its return to his hand, he took a drink and then made one last visual search of the road to their rear. “We had best continue with our journey, Cloveney is no more than two hours away.”
The Reaper's Touch Page 21