Dark Shadows

by Jana Petken

  Mercy looked out onto the street, cast her eyes upon the beautiful square and cathedral, and then stuck her nose in the air. She didn’t care what others thought about her. They would probably never have tea in central London in a dress like this or see what she was seeing. Others might tell her how to live her life in the future, but there were always dreams of escape and adventure to keep her mind busy. No one could take those dreams away from her.

  Chapter Five

  Sam Bigly and Eddie Gunn stood at a street corner a few doors away from the establishment where Mercy sat contentedly drinking her tea. They had spotted her going into the tea room. Eddie had decided there and then to set up shop and add her to the cargo already in the back of the carriage. She would be the last pickup on this, one of their last business trips to the capital. She would probably be one of the most highly valued, for her beauty was undeniable and probably greater than all the stock they had already accumulated.

  The two men had travelled a long distance. It had taken them twenty-eight hours from the centre of Liverpool to the madam’s safe house in Knightsbridge. They had done this journey many times. They were well paid for their specialised job, which was one of danger and illegalities that could see them hang. The job involved perfect timing, keen eyes, knowing when to strike, and knowing when to retreat. They were good at what they did, experts in the art of abduction.

  They were trusted employees of a woman in Liverpool and worked exclusively for her. Both knew her well. She didn’t take kindly to failure. Failure was unforgivable in her eyes. It was not in her vocabulary and was not tolerated. Sam and Eddie had both seen what happened to others when she was displeased. Therefore, they had good reasons to succeed every time they went on a job. The first was the bonus they got when they returned home with a full load. The second was their continuing employment, including bed, board, and the odd fuck with one of the madam’s girls.

  The madam always demanded her cargo from the most exclusive areas in central London. She never travelled to London herself and maintained complete anonymity. She was the ghost at the head of dangerous but lucrative operations. In Liverpool, she was known as Madame du Pont. The two men had always thought it a bloody stupid exercise when the madam switched accents from broad Liverpudlian to a soft French chic, depending on whom she was speaking to at the time. But she was a good businesswoman; they both agreed on that. She knew how to fill her whorehouse, and they’d seen her turn men away on occasion for lack of girls or just lack of space. She could even do that to important, powerful men, and they would always come back begging for more.

  Sam and Eddie knew little of her past. It was clear to them that she was from Liverpool and that she had come up with a dangerous business concept that only courage and self-belief could pull off. She had had made a fortune over the years and a name for herself in the most important social circles of the industrial North. They supposed she had no family and no real friends, bar her customers. But they did know one thing: she was one of the most, if not the most, powerful women in Liverpool.

  All her whores came from London. She specialised in young, graceful upper-class girls, virginal in appearance and, whenever possible, in body. Sam and Eddie took attractive girls who still had a good chance of being untouched by a man. There were exceptions, of course, but they weren’t expected to examine the girls they abducted – that was Madame du Pont’s job.

  Sam and Eddie didn’t particularly like the madam, but they did admire her enterprise and the profits she made. She had a mansion in Liverpool with grounds the size of a park, and she also owned a house in Knightsbridge. They often wondered why she had chosen that spot. It was a mews house with stables housing two carriages and four horses at all times. The location didn’t sit well with either man, as it was too close for their liking to the places where the girls were picked up.

  Eddie had asked her once why she took such risks. Why did she keep the girls so close to the abduction sites? Her answer had been quite clear, and she’d scoffed at his ignorance. “It’s called hiding in plain sight, Eddie boy. It’s the safest place in all of London, for who would dare to think that his stolen child was but a street or two away?”

  Madame du Pont had no connections on paper to the house in Knightsbridge. The man and woman who ran it held the lease. Therefore, if they were caught with abducted girls in the basement, they would go down for the crime, not her. The team were always on hand to look after the girls’ essential needs until transport day. Never once had any copper knocked on the door asking about a missing girl, not in all the time they’d been there.

  The madam, in the men’s opinion, could have made a good living out of local Liverpool girls who went willingly into the Liverpool brothels. But Madame du Pont offered an alternative experience for the type of men who frequented her house. She charged at least ten times more than any other brothel, and she had absolutely no competition whatsoever in the high end of the prostitution and gambling market.

  Her gated mansion stood in the most exclusive part of Liverpool. It was far enough away from the docklands and bustling streets that surrounded it, and it was separated from the run-down housing areas by a large park. Only mansions and high-quality restaurants sat on her side of the park, and only well-to-do people crossed it.

  The mansion was exquisitely decorated. There were salons adorned with paintings on walls lined with red velvet material. There were soft leather couches in every room. She provided private poker rooms, a bar, and servants who served champagne and whisky in crystal glasses from silver trays.

  The house had sixteen bedrooms situated on the first and second floors. Madame du Pont’s suite was on the ground floor, and the servants’ quarters were in the attic.

  Her whores were both beautiful and educated. They were soft-spoken and, more often than not, innocent and naive, which, according to Madame du Pont, made them easy pupils to manipulate. They were all, without exception, young ladies, not common whores who customarily opened their legs for men, rich or poor.

  The girls had to be well trained in the art of seduction before they were put to work servicing the madam’s customers. But their training also involved brutal punishments and, on the odd occasion, death for those who wouldn’t listen or accept their new situation. By the time their training was complete, the girls were either too afraid to argue or were simply defeated. That meant the madam had done her job well.

  Sam and Eddie envied the madam’s power and her fortune. They were the fools who took all the risks in what was a dangerous job, but she paid them good money, and as long as the money kept coming, they would do her bidding, no questions asked.

  They were given a finder’s fee for each girl. Forward planning and the execution of the plan itself rarely varied. It required speed, precision, and nerve. The victim was enticed to the back of the coach and its windowless wooden doors. Once there, the young woman disappeared inside the carriage and was never seen again until they reached Liverpool.

  The key to success was timing. If, on the odd occasion, people or another coach came too close to their position for comfort, they would move on; the entire operation was inevitably cocked up and cancelled.

  Sam and Eddie were both good-looking young men. Each had a good set of teeth, wore good-quality clothing, and softened his broad Liverpudlian accent in order to fit in with Londoners who frequented the most exclusive parts of the city. Sometimes their carriage would sit in the same spot for hours or drive in circles all day just to get one girl, but there were also days when they managed to pick up four or five in quick succession. It was a hit-or-miss affair, a bit like waiting for the madam to give them a girl to use.

  When the madam was in one of her dark moods, she would break their contract and refuse them access to her girls. This cruel denial could go on for weeks. Then there were the other times when she was in a particularly good mood, when they were given permission to fuck until their brains pickled and their balls felt as though they were going to fall off. They were denied cert
ain girls. These were the best of the bunch and Madame du Pont’s greatest assets. Virgins, she told them, were too good for the likes of them, even after the girls had been broken in by a customer, for they would always be virginal in her eyes.

  London was a vibrant city. Season after season, more girls from country estates arrived with their families to be bartered for money and power. The aristocracy and old money families attended endless balls and tea parties with the sole purpose of marrying off their daughters to wealthy and powerful families.

  It was approaching late October, the final days of the season and the last major ball. In Eddie and Sam’s opinion, this was the best time to strike, for girls had adjusted to London life by now; they were more adventurous. The capital’s glamorous streets tempted the debutantes with independence into what they thought were safe environments. Some took tea alone, like the girl they were watching now. Some went on shopping trips, combining them with walks in Hyde Park, where aristocratic young bucks rode their horses. Hyde Park, with its romantic lake, was the meeting point for many secret trysts between bucks in need of wives to run their estates and keep their family lines going and debutantes who wanted nothing more than to become wives and mistress of their own homes. The girls Sam and Eddie abducted had one thing in common: they were rebellious enough to go out alone, albeit in the most exclusive and safest areas of the city. They were confident and comfortable in familiar environments, thus allowing an easy abduction to take place.

  Sam and Eddie rode around London in a Clarence cab. It was a closed carriage with curtained windows. The carriage they used for the transportation to Liverpool was quite different, in that it looked more like an omnibus carriage than a private passenger carriage. It was closed in and long in length. It had tiny barred windows high on each side and heavy windowless double doors at the back end. Inside, there were two long benches and enough room for eight to ten people. On the return journey to Liverpool, it was usually filled to capacity. This particular transport was always safely tucked away in the mews stables with the horses, and it only ever came out on departure day, for it was an ugly-looking thing that was conspicuous on these grand streets.

  Eddie and Sam were going home today but had found themselves in the wrong part of London due to roadworks and new drainage systems being dug on many of the roads they usually took. Mayfair, Piccadilly, and Knightsbridge had been clear of roadworks, but upon leaving those areas, they’d been blindsided by diversions. Subsequent roads had led them into unknown territory. Thus they found themselves just to the left of St Paul’s Cathedral and around the corner from the girl who would, with a bit of luck, be their final unexpected but welcome victim.

  Chapter Six

  “What if she’s meeting someone?” Sam asked with growing uneasiness.

  “Well, she’s been in there for near enough a good half hour. If she was meeting someone, they’d have showed up by now. No, this little gem is alone and ripe for the picking. She’s a good catch, Sam. The missus will be pleased.” Eddie said this in his usual overconfident manner.

  “But we’ve already got nine,” Sam argued. “Do you really think we need another one? This is risky, and we don’t know the area. It might be hard getting her to walk round the corner, and I’m not bringing the carriage any closer to the square. I don’t even like it sitting where it is. We should be on our way out of the city by now. Maybe we should just forget it. I’ve had enough anyway. I just want to get the fuck out of London. It’s been a hard few days. I say we just pack it in and get ourselves home.”

  Eddie scratched his bristled chin. Sam had a point. “You might be right, but I still think we should take her. Did you get a good look at her? Bloody hell, she’s a blinder – better than the rest of them by miles. The missus will be over the moon with this one. We might even get to use her one day down the line. We’ll definitely get a bonus. C’mon, Sam.”

  Sam looked again at Mercy through the restaurant window and finally nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Face like a bloody angel. And that body! Christ, what I wouldn’t do to get her to open her legs for me.” His laugher was laced with sarcasm. “We’ll never get to use this one, though. Only in our dreams, Eddie boy. What do you reckon – seventeen, eighteen?”

  “Don’t know, but who cares? She’s young. I’d say about seventeen. She’s definitely one of the best we’ve seen for a long time. So are we going to do this or not?”

  Sam finally agreed. “Okay, but I’m not taking chances.”

  “Right. Then snap to it. Get the coach.”

  “Done. You just make sure you’re ready for her when she comes out of there. We don’t want this all sloppy-like. I’m for it, but there’s a lot of hustle and bustle around here, and I’m not sure of the route out of this fucking square we’re in. You’ll have to be quick with her. I’ll bring the coach a bit closer to the corner, just at the entrance to the side street behind us. It’ll only be a few feet closer but might make all the difference. I’ll get the carriage as close to the wall as I can, and I’ll have the drug ready.” Sam turned and then added as he reached the corner, “If this goes bad, we’re making a run for it out of here, right?”

  Eddie nodded absently. Sam could be like a bloody old fishwife when he wanted to be. Eddie continued to stare at the restaurant’s window. The girl was still sitting there, but he’d seen her ask for the bill. Sam better bloody hurry up, he thought. Time was short.

  Mercy stepped into the sunlight. It was almost two o’clock, so the waiter had told her. She had ample time to look inside the cathedral, light a candle for her mother and father, and then get back on the road home. All that she had imagined in the tea room were just that: imaginings. She would go home at the end of the day and marry Big Joe.

  St Paul’s sat just to the right and across the square from where Mercy stood. She had to walk to the corner and then cross the square. She pulled her bonnet down at the front, to shield her eyes from the sunlight and from the dust being kicked up by horses’ hooves, and started walking.

  Eddie watched her and quickly looked to the corner. The carriage was now in position. He could see the horses’ heads. Right, Eddie; this is it.

  He poured two drops of eye solution in each eye. He’d never asked what was in this stuff. Madame du Pont had never told him. But it stung like the devil and made his eyes tear up, turn red, and swell like a bee sting. He bloody hated this part. Christ, he would end up going blind if he carried on using it. It was like fucking acid!

  He approached Mercy as she walked towards his position. His head was bowed. He was crying like a baby and sniffing loudly. He stepped to the right, deliberately bumping into her, and then looked up apologetically. “I’m so sorry, miss. I wasn’t looking … My wife …”

  Mercy looked at the man’s face. His eyes were red rimmed. Tears ran down his cheeks. He seemed to be in terrible distress. “Your wife?” she questioned.

  “Yes. She’s in my carriage – she’s so sick. God help me, I don’t know what to do. I got lost.” He cried some more.

  Mercy looked around her. People were going about their business, walking and talking, carriages and horses everywhere. There were comings and goings in and out of the cathedral, and no one was taking any notice of the poor man. “Where is the nearest hospital?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. We were visiting relatives. Oh God, help me. She’s going to die, my Sarah. You’re a woman. You’ll know what to do. Please help me!”

  Mercy stared at his frightened tear-stained red face. His expression of hopelessness melted her heart. She suddenly thought about her father. “I’ll help you if I can,” Mercy blurted out without hesitation. “Where is she?”

  “Bless you. Bless your kind heart. She’s just around the corner. Follow me. The carriage is just a few feet away.”

  They were at the corner now. Mercy saw the four horses and strange-looking carriage. “Is this it?”

  “Yes, miss. She’s lying in the back.”

  Mercy nodded. She didn’t k
now how yet, but she was going to help the poor woman inside. It was the grown-up thing to do. She’d be contributing something, she thought, even if she just held the woman’s hand whilst her husband went for help. She walked speedily behind the man.

  The narrow alleyway was not big enough for two-way traffic. The man just in front of her turned and gave her a grateful smile, and she smiled back. He led her to the rear of the carriage and opened one of the thick wooden doors. He let her pass to stand in front of him. Mercy looked into the semi-darkness. She saw the tied and gagged girls. Her eyes widened, and her stomach lurched.

  Just inside, behind the one closed door, a man appeared. She turned, terrified and confused, instinctively knowing she was in danger.

  Eddie, standing behind her, shoved her into the back of the coach with great force whilst Sam pulled her the rest of the way in by her armpits. He proceeded to cover her nose and mouth with a smelly wet rag. Eddie closed the door, bolting it from the outside.

  Mercy’s eyes began to water. She choked on the smell and taste running down her throat. Who were all these girls? she wondered through her misty, dull mind. There were so many of them. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. She felt herself floating and then hitting the hard floor. The smell around her was horrible. She was choking on it. She tried desperately to grab the rag with her flailing arms and hands, but she had no strength to move any part of her body. She tried to shake the rag way with her head, but it was growing darker and darker around her until there was nothing. She was being consumed by the darkness …