Blood Tribute (The Lucas Gedge Thrillers Book 1)

by Andy Emery

  ‘Come on, now,’ said Polly. ‘Let’s go inside to talk. This salty air’s doing nothing for my hair. I’ll get a kettle going and brew a pot of tea to warm us up.’

  They moved inside, and Polly eased Martha down into an armchair.

  It was a simple hovel, with three rooms: a living area, a small bedroom and a utilitarian kitchen. Polly flung open the curtains at all the windows, letting some light in. Gedge added another log to the fire that was fizzing away in the grate, then lit a couple of oil lamps, placing one on a table, and the other in the kitchen.

  Martha had settled down, and was sitting in the chair, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the floor. In the kitchen, Polly got the kettle going while Gedge found some mugs.

  ‘Well done for calming her down just now,’ Gedge said.

  ‘We both did well. But we’ve got to handle this just right, or we’ll tip her over the edge and she’ll be no good to anyone.’

  ‘Yes. We need to somehow find out what we need to know, and preserve Martha’s sanity while we’re doing it.’

  ‘She’s right. She’s in dire danger from the gang, especially if she knows as much as we hope. If they ever found out where she is—’

  ‘They won’t.’

  They brought in the tea and settled into chairs in the living area. After a while, Martha started to drink, and the warming liquid seemed to calm her further. Gedge guessed that she was in her mid-twenties, but looked older. She was pretty, but her eyes were wary, and Gedge thought he could detect a few wisps of grey in her light brown hair. There were too many lines around her eyes for someone of her age.

  ‘Martha,’ said Gedge. ‘Can you please tell us what happened to you, starting from the beginning?’

  37

  The house was quiet. It was afternoon. Their lunch plates had been collected a couple of hours earlier and it would be another two hours before a bowl of stodge was provided for tea.

  Both girls were lying on their beds. Hannah saw that Esther was staring straight ahead at the opposite wall, with a vacant expression on her face. There seemed to be no fight in her. But Hannah needed to convince her to help with the escape plan, because it wouldn’t work without her. And they had to go now.

  ‘Esther, I’m going to do it. You should come with me.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Hannah, I’m scared. It’s going to be claustrophobic up there. And I don’t see how getting into the loft is going to get us out of this house, either.’

  ‘All I know is we’ve got to do something soon. I don’t know what they’ve got planned for us, but I’m sure it won’t be good. Esther, I need you. It won’t work if only one of us goes, can’t you see that? I’ve got the catch almost free. A little bit more scratching and we should be able to get up there. Then, I’m not sure. But it’s a chance.’

  ‘But what about the other girls? What about Lizzie?’

  ‘I know I wanted everyone to get away, but I can’t see how we could do it. It’s now or never. Just you and me.’

  It was freezing cold in the loft, and almost pitch black. Esther was shaking, clinging to Hannah’s shift while stifling tears. With little to grip on, Hannah was holding the trapdoor shut, as she listened to what was going on below. For Esther’s sake, she had left it open as long as possible, but closed it when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She was risking everything on their captors not having the wit to look upwards.

  She heard a high-pitched shriek. Vera.

  ‘Jesus Lord! Where are they? I don’t believe this! What are you looking there for? The window’s stuck shut and the bars across it are too much for a couple of teenagers. The only way they could have got out is if someone unlocked the door, then locked it back up when they’d gone.’

  Then a man’s voice: ‘But who would have done that? Who has a key besides you?’

  ‘There’s a spare in my bedroom. And Mr Ackerman has one. Oh god, what’s going to happen when he finds out?’

  ‘We’ll worry about that later. First, check for that spare key.’

  There were further mumbled exchanges, and then it grew quiet below them. Hannah could still hear fainter sounds indicating movement elsewhere in the house, so she kept the trapdoor shut, her arms aching and growing stiff with the strain. On top of that, Esther was starting to shake uncontrollably.

  The sounds died away. Hannah left it a few minutes longer, and then gradually let the trapdoor down, so it hung vertically on its hinges. She could see a square of carpet and the edge of one of the beds.

  She looked at Esther. ‘Come on! We’re going down. It’s now or never.’

  Esther looked relieved that they were about to leave the gloom behind them. Her breathing eased a little. Hannah swung her legs down and, holding onto the edge of the doorway, dropped down onto the bed. She inched the bed over so it was more directly under the trapdoor.

  ‘Okay. Drop down now!’

  Esther wriggled through the gap, and fell, almost out of control, onto the bed. Hannah re-closed the trap-door and then Esther helped her silently roll the bed back to its original position.

  Hannah approached the door, which had been left ajar, and listened. She could hear distant murmurings; nothing too close. She whispered to Esther.

  ‘Let’s take our shoes off to make less noise.’

  They removed their shoes and Hannah stepped out of the room and onto a landing. The staircase was to the left, a window to the right, and two more doors in the wall opposite.

  She motioned for Esther to stay, while she padded to the window and looked out. Another wall faced her, only about five feet away. It was windowless. She looked down. There was a narrow yard at ground level, but there didn’t seem to be any way they could get down there.

  She moved back to the stairwell, this time signalling for Esther to follow. She peered up and down the stairs. No movement or sound. Perhaps their captors had left the house, in their desperation to find out where the girls had gone.

  Hannah started onto the stairs, looking back to see Esther following with faltering steps. They had to concentrate on moving quietly and trying to avoid drawing attention.

  The sixth tread creaked. The sound seemed to boom through the quiet house. Both girls stopped dead, and Hannah shrank back against the bannisters. Esther copied. But no door opened, no face appeared on another floor. They carried on.

  As they reached the first floor landing, a door opened on the ground floor just below them. Hannah grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her towards the nearest door. It was narrower than the others, and it was unlocked. She opened it to find a storage cupboard, with brooms, buckets, cleaning materials and some spare linen. She thrust Esther ahead of her into the back of the cupboard and followed her inside, closing the door to a crack behind her. She peered out of the narrow gap.

  Two raised voices could be heard. Man and woman. The woman sounded like Vera, and Hannah realised the male voice belonged to Ackerman, the man who claimed to know her father. He was obviously enraged.

  ‘This is not believable, Madam! How long since you sat in my office, telling me that the incident with the other girl would not be repeated? Scant days! And now you have somehow allowed not one, but two others to get free!’

  ‘I can’t believe it myself. It’s inexplicable. The room was locked. It can only have been done with the help of one of our own.’

  ‘Really? And where would you cast the blame this time? You killed your own brother after the last affair. I’m now wondering if he wasn’t the sole culprit! I’m going to look at their room. I’m not sure I trust your explanations.’

  Two pairs of feet hurried up the stairs. Hannah drew the door further shut, straining to see out of the remaining tiny crack. She caught the briefest glimpse of Ackerman, wearing a forbidding expression, followed by the bird-like form of Vera in her housecoat and pinafore. They were silent as they climbed the stairs.

  As soon as she was sure Vera and Ackerman had reached the floor above, Hannah opened the door wider. She led Esther out of the cupbo
ard and down the final flight of stairs to the ground floor, still treading as lightly as possible.

  They stepped off the final tread onto the carpeted hallway. She couldn’t believe their luck. There didn’t seem to be anyone about. The front door was just eight feet away. It might be locked, but if not, they would be out of this place in a few seconds.

  A great roar came from two floors above. Hannah knew that Ackerman had discovered their escape method, and had realised they must still be somewhere in the house. Before she had time to make for the exit, another man appeared from a door to their right and lunged at them, grabbing both girls by their collars. Hannah struggled mightily, but he was too strong. She could smell his foetid breath as he hollered up the stairs.

  ‘Boss! I’ve got ’em! They’re down here!’

  Two faces peered over the second floor balcony.

  ‘Good!’ said Ackerman. ‘Hold on to them.’

  Hannah only had seconds to do something. But she couldn’t break free. Then she saw, just behind Esther, a small occasional table against the wall, and upon it a china vase, about eighteen inches high. She shouted to Esther, and nodded frantically in the direction of the vase.

  To Hannah’s surprise, Esther seemed to see what was required immediately. To create a distraction, Hannah swung herself around in the man’s grip. As he struggled to keep her still, Esther leaned forward and pulled the vase off the table. The man realised what was happening a fraction of a second too late.

  Esther swung the heavy object up to connect with the side of his jaw. With a crack, the vase smashed into many pieces and the man went down instantly, releasing his hold.

  Yet, even as they were freed, another thug appeared from a room at the back of the house and charged towards them. Vera and Ackerman were now running down the stairs from the first floor landing.

  Hannah pulled open the front door and pushed Esther outside.

  ‘Run! As fast as you can!’

  She reached down and scooped up a long shard of broken china. The thug from the back of the house tried to push her out of the way to go after Esther, but he had underestimated Hannah’s strength and will. She plunged the sharp piece of pottery into his thigh, and a powerful jet of blood shot out of his leg. He gasped, collapsing in the doorway, trying to stem the flow by clamping his hands over the wound.

  Ackerman arrived at the scene and tried to manhandle Hannah out of the way. She had dropped the makeshift dagger, but clung on to him as best she could, to stop him clambering over the man on the floor, whose blood was still oozing between his fingers.

  Her grip was gradually broken, and she was pinned to the ground in the doorway beside the dying man.

  She at least had the satisfaction of seeing Esther running at full pelt down the road away from the house, before a hand with a foul-smelling rag was forced across her mouth and nose, and her world collapsed into darkness.

  38

  Martha stared at the dark window on the seaward side of the cottage for a few moments, gathering her strength for the tale to follow.

  ‘I worked for Mr DuPont. He was one of the last silk traders still going in Spitalfields. He had a little office on Heneage Street, and I was a sort of office girl. I was so happy to get that job. I started off mostly just making everyone’s tea, but gradually they began to trust me more and I got to run errands and do bits of paperwork. Only what others didn’t want to do, but I revelled in the variety of it and the feeling that I was being useful. And Mr DuPont was such a kind man. I really felt I’d fallen on my feet, and it meant I avoided drudging in some factory or warehouse.’

  ‘It sounds perfect,’ said Polly. ‘But then things started to go wrong?’

  ‘Nothing to do with the job. But I took to going to a pub on Commercial Street. With other people from work, you understand. One time, there was a big, dark-haired bloke at the bar. I noticed he was eyeing up some of the women, and when I got some drinks in, he came over and we chatted for a while. I suppose I was quite flattered. After that, he always seemed to be there. He seemed quite pleasant, then.’

  ‘And this man turned out to be Ackerman?’ said Gedge.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t see him anywhere but the inn. Then one weekend, when I was off work, I was walking along Commercial Street, going to the shops, when who should I see, sitting in a table in the window of a cafe that I was walking past? He beckoned to me through the window. I didn’t want to go in there, but I didn’t feel I could just walk by. When I got inside the cafe, I saw that he was with a couple of mates. So when he asked if I’d like a cup of tea, I thought I’d be safe and I said yes. All three of them were jolly, loud-voiced types. The sort who might start breaking things if they get drunk. Mostly, they talked about the racing, what was in the news and so on. Actually, I was getting quite bored, just making the odd comment here and there. I think he was really waiting for the other two to go, because after a while they said they had to be off.

  ‘When they’d gone, he said he had a proposition for me. That got me worried, of course, but he said it was all legit. He said I was wasting myself working at DuPont’s. He’d been watching me, and I had the looks and other qualities to really make something of myself. There were all sorts of possibilities, according to him. He said I could be a model for some of these advertisements you see springing up everywhere these days. But best of all, I could be an actress, in the theatre to start with. He said that in a few years they’d have moving pictures that’ll take over and put the theatres out of business. I said that you surely need loads of training to be an actress, but he said not really, and anyway he knew all the right people. The point was, I had the opportunity to make a lot of money for myself and travel the world. Be a big star, maybe. I must admit, it did turn my head a bit. But I’m not daft. I couldn’t see how just talking to a bloke in a cafe in Spitalfields could lead to all that. He laughed and said that I’d obviously have to work for it, and these people he knows would have to like me. But he was sure they would. He said the first step was to turn up at a particular address on the following weekend, the Saturday evening, and see how things went from there.’

  Polly got up, collected their mugs and went into the kitchen to look for something to make them a meal. The place was small enough that she could still easily hear what Martha was saying.

  ‘The chance was too good to miss. The address he gave me was for a big house near Victoria Park. Not the sort of place I’d ever been to before. There were lots of people there, lots of important-looking men, and young women, too. I met several posh blokes, but I have trouble remembering people’s names, first time I meet them, so they didn’t register first time out. Anyway, they were very good to me, got me drinks and told me more about how I could go far doing this or that. All to do with pictures, really. There were some top-notch photographers there apparently, and I was told I could make a lot of money if it turned out my face fitted. Well, that first time was mostly a blur, but I do remember that after an hour or so, a lot of people seemed to disappear upstairs and the piano playing got louder and more raucous, and the songs a bit more risqué, if you know what I mean. Soon after that, I got the impression that they decided I’d been there long enough. Thinking about it now, I realise they probably didn’t want the new girl seeing what went on there later in the night. Not yet, anyway. They got a cab for me, and Mr Ackerman slipped me a paper package just as I left. “Same time next week, Martha, yes?” he said to me.’

  ‘What was in the package?’ said Gedge.

  ‘A wad of notes. Ten whole pounds, if you please. It still sounded very exciting to me, and with the money as well I could hardly stay away. I could barely concentrate at work, looking forward to the next weekend. Anyway, the following week I was surprised that a hansom turned up at my lodgings to take me to the big house. They seemed much freer with the wine that time. After I’d had a few drinks, a big red-faced chap with a handlebar moustache came up to me, and said he was Cedric Abernathy, photographer, and he was going to take some pictures of me, a
sort of portfolio to get me started on the road to fame and fortune. I was sure I’d seen his name on some of the pictures in the weeklies, so I knew he was a proper photographer.’

  Polly hadn’t found much in the store cupboard, but had made do with some rolls and tinned meat, and she brought them in. After a short break to eat, Martha resumed talking.

  ‘I went upstairs with Mr Abernathy, to a big room all hung about with drapes over the walls, some of them showing historical scenes and landscapes. Along one wall there were cupboards with a load of equipment, and there was one of those concertina-type screens that you can use to get changed behind. In the middle of the room was his big old camera. Anyway, he got to work, getting me to make different poses while he took his pictures, all the while making approving noises and plying me with more drink, brandy this time. I said I wasn’t sure I wanted any more, but he said, “Nonsense! It’s one of the perks of the job.” And he kept knocking it back himself.

  ‘After a while he asked me to change out of my own things and into several different outfits. All the usual stuff you see on those postcards. You know, a milk maid, an Egyptian queen. I liked that one. There was a peculiar one he called Brünhilde or some such nonsense, with a spear and a helmet with horns. That was fine, but I was getting pretty woozy. It was then that he said he needed to take a few pictures of me without clothes. I couldn’t believe I’d heard right at first, and started protesting. But he said it was just a formality. All of these portfolios had to have a couple of nudes. Classical they call it, like those Greek statues. He said he realised I was nervous about it, and he called in another girl to sort of provide moral support. She was lovely. French I think, and very beautiful. Name of Elise. She was only wearing a silk gown herself, and she helped me feel better about it all. I posed for the pictures and at the time I actually felt quite relaxed. In a way it felt liberating somehow, to just stand there without your clothes. Abernathy didn’t even seem to take much notice, just got on with his work. After he took the last photograph, Elise gave me another gown to put on, and as I said I was feeling tired, she told me to lie on a couch which was behind the screen.’