When I arrived in Birmingham city the next evening I immediately located a quaint hotel where I could reserve a room for seven days. I paid for the week's accommodation on arrival and told the staff that there was no possibility that I would need to amend or adjust my bookings. I told them that in seven days I was expected in Liverpool and that I would be required to stay in that northern city for a further seven days. The staff at the hotel didn't follow up on my statements with questions or wonder about my profession. Instead, they nodded their heads and happily took my money before escorting me to my room.
The hotel room was as quaint as the exterior of the hotel. Cobwebs hung on the walls and the handles and fittings that were attached to drawers, doors, and cabinets were only barely attached. The fittings wobbled and moved in ways that they were not supposed to. One good feature of the room was that it had a window that looked out onto the main road below. The hotel room where I was staying was located on the third floor of the building so I had a good vantage point over the street. Overall, it was a room that served its purpose by housing me. All I required was a place where I could rest, plot and execute my plan. I was satisfied with my location.
I saw a lot of similarities between London and Birmingham. A lot of the amenities were the same in both cities. They both had well-maintained parks, theatres and established restaurants and drinking-holes for the population to enjoy. However, Birmingham was dwarfed in comparison with the size of London and it only had around seventy-thousand occupants in the city. It was a city that I had never visited before and although I had heard of it in the newspaper and read about it thriving through the new industrial developments that were taking place in our country, it never much concerned me as I was not destined and wouldn't have settled for a typical labour job. The industrial developments that I spoke of were still visibly evident when I walked around the city the morning after I arrived there as there were thick clouds of smoke coming from the chimneys of the factories.
It did not take me long to find Charles' house and learn about the company he kept and where he frequented. Compared to the amount of time and labour that I spent in London trying to establish myself and find out all the information about the three wrongdoers, this was incredibly easy. Charles' surname was Waybridge and he kept the company of many of the finest people in Birmingham. He even used his wealth to help enhance the city and make it more attractive for more businesses and citizens to settle there. He seemed to have a business in every sector of the city and not just as a landlord as I had first suspected from Alice's letter. All of this information was useful to me.
I kept up the persona of Monsieur Levasseur in my travel. It had worked so well up unto now and it had gotten me into so many places and helped me build so many new connections, that I thought it would be unwise to leave it behind. If I wanted to then I could have taken on a new persona but it would have been too time-consuming and too much energy would have been wasted on creating a back-story and a believable set of circumstances that drove me to Birmingham. Likewise, If I had just cast away all manners of disguise and walked around as my true self, William Underhill, then I would be in constant fear of being recognised and I would have to reveal to everyone my existence which would mean that I would lose the art of surprise that I had planned for my enemies.
The quaint hotel which I stayed in had a night-porter who I spoke with on the first evening of my arrival, but he was nothing in comparison to the night-porter in London who had helped me carry-out a few errands. I needed some tasks taken care of in a discreet manner, so I turned to the poor and impoverished people that lined the streets of Birmingham. Primarily, I employed the services of groups of young children. Their job was to station themselves outside Charles' house and loiter there until they saw him. Then they were to follow him and record his activities and then report them back to me daily. I wanted to know what he did, where he went if he did the same thing every day, and if there was something in his daily activity that I could exploit.
The children reported to me that Charles frequented an alehouse every night and it was not located too far from where he lived. He walked a particular route and he was always alone. The route he walked was along dark and small narrow passage-ways that ran behind the houses. It seemed as if Charles preferred the dim-lit alleys to the bright main roads of Birmingham. Perhaps he did not want to be seen going in and out of the alehouse. The children also reported that Charles left his house early in the morning each day and returned around midday. He only then left it again in the evening when he went to the alehouse. Charles would then stumble back from the alehouse around midnight, taking the same dreary route. The report was evident to me that Charles’ weakness was alcohol as it was with so many people. The children also swore that during each trip to and from the alehouse, Charles would smoke a thick and odorous cigar.
I paid the children a few coins each and told them to show me the route that Charles took every night. They walked me along the route two or three times and then I thanked them for their services and said that I no longer required their assistance. They thanked me and scampered off quickly, leaving me alone in a narrow alley with not another person in sight. On the fifth day of my stay in Birmingham, I walked along the alley in the morning and the afternoon and the evening. The passage was much more visible in the day, but it still lacked charm and any redeeming qualities. At night the path was just barely visible.
"How do I use this to my benefit?" I thought to myself.
Knowing both the time and place where Charles would be was a massive advantage and if I wanted to I could have simply walked up behind him and shot him in the back of the head, but that seemed too merciful.
"No," I said internally. "If I shoot him then he will die too quickly and he will not suffer as much as I would like him to. I need something better. I need a punishment that is suitable to inflict upon a monster."
That night, I surveyed the darkly lit passageway myself since I had dismissed the children from my service. I kept my distance from the mouth of the alley so that Charles would not see that there was a set of eyes watching him. Like the children had reported, he walked through the passageway at precisely the same time he had done so on the previous nights and he returned to his house at the same time as he had done before. I watched him with hatred in my eyes and heart, I felt like a predator that was getting ready to pounce on its prey.
After I watched Charles return from the alehouse to his house, I returned to the hotel. I was content in the fact that I had found my prey, discovered a time and a place when to get him and that I was prepared to eliminate the first of the three sinners as soon as tomorrow.
That night I wrote the events into my journal as I had done every day since purchasing it. The entry that I put into the journal outlined my thoughts and feelings about the matter at hand and also about the manner of his death. I wrote that Francis Farewell's pistol would continue to gather dust and would be of no use in this endeavour, though I also said that it may be needed when it came time to punish Edward. I wrote my journal entry late into the night and I could feel the adrenaline and anticipation of the action to come coursing through my body. I was excited at the prospect.
The next morning I awoke to the sound of the pouring rain. It was a sound that had become familiar to me once again and although it hindered some of my planned activities for the day it helped me significantly in the planning of Charles' demise.
"Tonight, I will get my revenge on Charles. No rain, thunder or even an immortal could stop me from carrying out this reprisal."
The method which I would employ to kill Charles had been settled upon and written about in the journal throughout the night before. I thought that it was an ingenious plan which was sure to work and would be the least likely way for any suspicion to be aroused about the nature of his death or for any fingers to be pointed towards me. Bracing the light-drizzle of the morning shower, I then set about to my work and made the preparations that were necessary to deliver Charles a fata
l blow that evening.
In all honesty, I must admit that the hours of organising and getting everything into position for the assassination were some of the most fulfilling and satisfying hours of my life. I was going to liberate the world from a monster, liberate my stolen gold from his evil clutches, and finally start to take my revenge. My road to retribution had been a long and winding one, but I was nearing the end of that journey.
I won't discuss the steps I had to take or the preparatory measures taken during that full day in Birmingham to get myself ready for exacting my revenge. It is not that I don't want to share the details which I recorded in-depth in my journal, it is only because they will soon become obvious. It took me five hours and the help of some impoverished locals to get everything ready, but despite having a lighter purse than I expected to leave Birmingham with, I was at ease with what I had achieved. I worked right up onto the final hour in the evening when I knew he would be walking to the alehouse from his house. When that time came, I walked to the dark alleyway and waited for him.
There were puddles on the ground as it had rained, albeit lightly, for the majority of the afternoon. The roads were slippery and the alleyway was too. The effects of the weather were factored into my plans and played a crucial role in them, too. I waited in an area of the secluded alleyway for Charles to appear. I hide in the darkness like a nocturnal predator and if I remained crouched and hidden then I suspected that Charles would have been able to walk right passed me without evening registering my presence. However, I had an item with me that I purchased that day and planned to use on Charles, it certainly would get his attention. Soon I heard footsteps approaching and I knew that my victim was almost in the trap I had set for him. Not long after that, I saw a figure of a man walk up the alleyway towards where I stood. His face was shrouded in darkness due to the blackness of the night and alley, but I was fairly certain it was Charles. The man walked slowly along the path and I saw that he was taking extra precaution to make sure that he did not slip or fall on the wet ground. When he came close to me, although I was hidden in the darkness, my heartbeat intensified and I prepared myself for what would unfold within the next few minutes.
I was crouched down on the ground with my back leaning against the wall on one of the sides of the alleyway. My two hands were firmly holding on to a large container that was filled with a liquid with a strong odour. The container, with its contents, was the item that I had purchased earlier in the day and I had placed it in the alleyway upon purchasing. When Charles was within a few footsteps of me I tipped the container over and the liquid spilled out and ran over his shoes and formed a wide puddle around him.
"What is this? Who is responsible? Come forward immediately," he yelled out with complete disdain.
I appeared from the shadows but kept my distance from Charles to make sure that I was not breaching the liquid puddle that lay under his feet. The puddle of liquid surrounded him like a moat that protects a castle.
"My apologies, sir, I was carrying some water home to my house and I didn't mean to spill it," I spoke to Charles. I dropped my fake French accent and instead opted to put on a Birmingham accent. I was hoping to fool him with my accent and deceive him about what the liquid truly was.
"You fumbling fool. If you paid better attention to yourself and the world around you, you wouldn't be labouring around in the dead of night," Charles said.
Charles was unable to see my face or my body. I knew that he was unable to see me clearly because I was unable to see him. Despite being in conversation with one another, I could only make out the outline of his body. He too, would probably only be able to see my silhouette and see my slim frame.
"Yes, sir," I remarked. "The night is a dangerous time to be alone on the streets."
Charles took one step forward and was about to continue walking towards me, and towards the destination of the alehouse, and out of the puddle that I had put him into.
"Wait, Mr. Waybridge," I said instinctively as I wanted him to remain in his location.
"Who are you? Come closer, stranger. How do you know me?" he replied with a surprised voice.
"I only know you by reputation, sir. Many people know you and the work that you have done. I just want to know if you have lighter and if you can light my cigarette for me?"
"Of course I have a lighter, those things may be alien to you and your class, but nothing is beyond reach for me. Out of kindness, I shall light your cigarette for you, even though you have soaked my shoes and feet and the bottom of my trousers with your clumsiness. You can go and tell everyone you meet about my kindness."
Charles fumbled around his pockets and removed a lighter. He struck it and a small flame was produced. I took a step towards him and with a cigarette in my hand, I moved it towards the lighter and the flames lit the cigarette. I made sure to keep my face as far back from the naked flame while the cigarette was being lit to keep my face in the darkness, but once the cigarette was lit I took another step forward so that Charles could now see my face and I could see his.
There was a gasp that left Charles' mouth and frowns appeared on his forehead. It was too dark to know if his face turned pale, but I am quite certain that it probably did. James Cromwell may not have recognised me with my thin face and facial hair, but Charles Waybridge certainly did.
"William?" Charles stuttered.
"Yes, Charles," I said, dropping all pretence.
"You are dead. How is this possible?"
"I am not dead, but no thanks to you. You tried to murder me, Charles. You left me in the sea to drown."
Charles began to shake and then he breathed rapidly and then grunted. From the outside looking in, it appeared that Charles was battling his emotions. He seemed nervous, scared, surprised and angry in all a short period. He grunted and I saw him change his posture. He had been an officer of the navy and was trained in combat, he knew that my presence and the situation he was in meant that he was in danger. He was preparing to attack me before I could attack him.
"Wait," I said to Charles as I took two steps back from him, making sure that I was not in near the puddle of liquid that surrounded him.
"What is it that you want? I know that you did not come here for just an apology," Charles astutely said.
"You are correct. I did not come here for an apology. You tried to drown me in the water, so now I am here to burn you in a fire."
As I finished my sentence I dropped the lit cigarette onto the spilled liquid that had formed a puddle around Charles Waybridge. A fire quickly spread around the puddle as the naked flame of the cigarette had collided with the kerosene oil that I had previously pushed over in Charles' direction. Knowing that Charles was a smoker, allowed me to assume that the smell of the oil would be undetected by him.
Charles's shoes instantly caught fire and the rest of his attire soon followed. He screamed loudly and although he initially tried to avoid the blaze that had formed around him, he was unable to. He was engulfed in flames and rolling on the floor by the time I left him. Although I would have enjoyed staying to watch the flames extinguish his life, I knew that he was as good as dead and that I would need to leave the area before any people came to investigate the source of the screams. I whistled happily as I left Charles burning and dying in the alleyway.
Chapter 23 - The Death of Edward
The death of Charles was not reported in the newspaper the next morning or the morning after that, but it did appear in the evening paper that second night. The delay came from the problem of identifying the remains of the body. For that next night and day, I waited for the news of Charles's death to be reported and when it was, I was satisfied. During those days, I changed my accommodation from one hotel to another. I told the hotel that I checked out of that I was called on business and had to leave Birmingham city immediately. This tactic was simply to make sure that if the children I paid to spy for me told anyone about my interest in Charles and that I had them follow him for several nights, then I would be considered
a suspect in the murder so I made up the story that I had to leave town and was going to Cardiff. The new hotel that I checked into was just as quaint and mundane as the previous hotel, but it was cheap and it served its purpose. When booking into the new hotel I paid for three nights' accommodation and I stayed for the entire duration. For the three days that I stayed in this new hotel, I was happy and content and always wore a smile on my face. I had gotten revenge on one of my wrongdoers and the others were soon going to be next. I couldn't help but be happy as I relaxed for those few short days.
On the fourth morning, I did leave the hotel and quit Birmingham. I organised with a stagecoach company to take me to Liverpool and for an additional small fee, they agreed to take me privately to the northern city.
"You're lucky," said the employee who worked with the stagecoach company, when we had agreed to terms of the private journey.
"Why is that?" I remarked in a good-spirited manner.
"Liverpool is like a beehive buzzing with activity. So many folk travel up to Liverpool daily to work on the new docks. You're lucky that we are so nice as to give you an entire carriage to yourself for your journey," he responded.
"If that is so, then I must thank you again," I said smiling. "But, I also have paid for the honour of a single trip. It is not as if it was freely given or accepted, nor do I know many people who would have paid an additional sum to make the same journey. Therefore I think we are both lucky to have crossed paths."
The man laughed heartedly and said that I was right. He said we were both lucky and that God smiled upon both of us that day. I did not argue with him and we parted that moment on good terms with one another. I saw the employee the second time as he rode on a carriage and said that not only was he a deal-maker but also a carriage driver. Furthermore, he would be my driver and would see that I got to Liverpool soundly.
The traffic going out of the city of Birmingham was considerably less than the traffic going in. I was surprised to see so many carriages and people on horseback make their way to the city. It stunned me so much that I even passed comment on it to the polite driver who was a talkative fellow.
Revenge of an Englishman Page 21
