by Simon Clark
‘Who might be under this very roof?’
‘Quite possibly.’
Brampton spoke up despite Abberline’s prohibition. ‘I will double the guard.’
‘You could treble the guard,’ Abberline intoned gravely. ‘You could multiply the guard by a hundredfold, yet William’s safety wouldn’t be guaranteed. We are dealing with a murderer who moves invisibly. They kill at a time and in a manner that appears to be their prerogative.’
William looked shaken. ‘What if the killer fires at me when I am with my family? A stray bullet … a ricochet … my wife or daughter could be taken in a blink of an eye.’
Abberline nodded. ‘That’s why we must catch the person responsible as quickly as possible.’ He turned to Colonel Brampton. ‘Give William your revolver.’
This time Brampton didn’t disagree with Abberline. He immediately pulled the gun from its holster and handed it to William.
William stared at the gun in his hand. ‘The problem is … who is the suspect? If someone steps through that door, how do I know whether he is harmless, or my assassin?’
Brampton spoke up again, ‘Find him, Abberline. There isn’t a moment to lose.’
‘I must have your co-operation, Colonel. Today we will be faced with matters of life and death.’
‘You have my co-operation, Inspector.’
‘Thank you.’
‘However, work must go on. We need to prepare the balloons for royal inspection.’
‘Surely you will cancel?’
‘Only if the murder suspect isn’t found. Until then, we proceed as planned.’
Abberline clearly wished that the soldier would postpone the prince’s visit; however, he gave a reluctant nod. ‘You must obey your orders, Colonel. Meanwhile, I will do my utmost to find the suspect.’
Suddenly, there was a furious pounding on the door. It burst open to reveal a soldier. The man panted, his chest heaved.
‘Colonel, sir! We have seen the girl. A man has taken her. They ran off into the forest before we could catch them.’
Abberline asked, ‘Did you see her abductor?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘I didn’t see his face, sir. He was wearing a hat – large like, a very wide brim. And his coat, sir.’
‘Yes?’
‘It was yellow … bright yellow.’
Thomas shouted, ‘Abberline, that’s our suspect. The God Thief!’
‘Colonel.’ Abberline headed for the door. ‘Have a carriage brought to the front of the house. Get us your best driver, and your fastest horses. It’s vital we catch that man!’
‘MANHUNT!’ The sergeant bellowed the word with enormous power – its sheer loudness hurt Thomas’s ears. ‘MANHUNT!’ He shouted the word again as he waved his men forwards with their rifles. They formed a precise line at the front of the house. ‘Only shoot the man if you have to!’ roared the soldier. ‘He has a girl with him! Don’t shoot the girl! I repeat: Do not … shoot the bloody girl. Do you understand?’
They all chorused back, ‘Yessir!’
A footman guided Abberline and Thomas to a waiting carriage. Just seven minutes had elapsed since the soldier had rushed into the house with news that a man in a yellow coat had been seen with Laura Morgan. Soldiers on horseback cantered away along the driveway. The April day had become a whirlwind of movement; horses whinnied, sensing the excitement of the chase. A pair of gamekeepers hurried by with foxhounds on leashes – the dogs knew that the hunt had begun; they pulled forward, eager to track their prey.
Thomas climbed into a two-wheel carriage to sit opposite Abberline. The driver carried a rifle across his lap, as he sat there with the reins one hand and a whip in the other. The huge stallion between the carriage’s shafts pawed the ground. Two soldiers on horseback flanked the carriage. A third man galloped up on a white horse. He wore the tweed of a gamekeeper. No sooner had he arrived than William Denby ran from the house. He spoke to the gamekeeper who quickly dismounted. William swung himself up onto the horse.
Abberline called out, ‘No, you must stay at the house. You are in danger.’
‘’I will still be in danger hiding away indoors, won’t I, Inspector? I’d much rather be out there with you, looking for the devil.’
‘Very well, but take care, sir, take care.’
A footman ran forward to thrust a shotgun into Thomas’s hands. He handed him a satchel, too, containing ammunition.
‘MANHUNT!’ The sergeant’s bellow must have been loud enough to rattle the bones of the dead in the cemetery. ‘PROCEED!’
The infantry moved off in the direction of the forest.
What came next snatched Thomas’s breath away. Their driver cracked the whip and the horse moved with the speed of a racehorse. The carriage thundered away along the drive. The line of men smoothly parted in the centre allowing them to pass through. Thomas clung to his hat. The lawns became a blur.
He noticed Abberline shielding his eyes against the sunlight. The man scrutinized the front of the house.
‘Do you see anything, Inspector?’
‘It’s worth checking if there’s anyone watching proceedings out here. The expression on their face might be a useful clue in its own right.’
Thomas looked back at the huge mansion. The house shrank as the horse drew their carriage away at a bone-shaking pace. He could see no one. The windows seemed to stare back at them blankly. That old building was an impassive observer – it had coldly watched generations of men and women live and die, and it didn’t care a jot one way or the other who were the quick, and who were the dead.
Three horsemen led the way – two soldiers and William Denby. The forest closed in tight against the road. Soon branches formed a roof above them. The way became dark – a twisting, serpentine route through the trees. Thomas clung tightly to the sides of the carriage to avoid being hurled out. He gripped the shotgun between his knees and prayed that the weapon didn’t have a hair-trigger. If a severe jolt caused it to fire, it would blow his head clean off. Ten minutes of hurtling through the gloom made Thomas breathless. His ears were full of the din of wheels against the road. Moreover, his entire body ached.
The driver shouted, ‘Whoa!’
Within moments, the carriage had come to a stop. A soldier mounted on a white charger galloped toward them. He pulled up short of the other riders.
‘Sir,’ he shouted to William, ‘the kidnapper has been spotted. He’s moving alongside a stream further up this hill. We’re going to flush him out.’
William turned to Abberline. ‘Stay here. When we’ve caught our goose, we’ll bring him back to you: trussed and ready to roast. Ha!’
William led the other horsemen away, leaving Abberline, Thomas and the driver alone. The driver climbed down from his seat and went to hold the horse by its bridle. The animal had fire in its belly now and wanted to keep running. The driver spoke soothingly to the creature, while stroking its nose.
Abberline appeared uneasy. ‘William’s got the hunter’s spirit on him. I’m afraid he’s stopped thinking clearly. If he doesn’t keep his wits about him, he could be heading for trouble.’
Thomas checked the shotgun. It was loaded. He rested the weapon across his lap. ‘God willing, we’ll soon have our prisoner.’
‘God willing.’ Abberline nodded. ‘But what concerns me is that I’m not able to identify something that has been under my very nose.’
‘You think you might have missed a clue?’
‘An important one. The key to this case might be dangling in front of my eyes, yet for some reason I’ve not recognized what should be damned obvious.’ He sighed with frustration. ‘The same happened in the Ripper case two years ago. The day after Mary Kelly had been cut to pieces I stood in a tavern in Whitechapel. A man was by the bar, drinking beer. I’d never seen him before, he was a complete stranger. Yet he smiled and raised his tankard, as if toasting me.’
‘He would have recognized you from the new
spapers, surely?’
‘Thomas. …’ Abberline shuddered as if he’d felt the hand of a murder victim coldly rest upon his shoulder. ‘Thomas, the man’s smile was so knowing. Do you follow what I’m saying? A gloating smile. The stranger looked at me … and he knew something I didn’t. He knew a secret, a profound secret, which I longed with all my heart to know. I could see the truth in his eyes. He had witnessed things that no other living man had seen. At that moment, he enjoyed seeing me there in the tavern – me, a forlorn man, a failed policeman, who could not find the killer of those poor women. Oh, yes, Thomas. I would give every penny I own to know the identity of the murderer.’ The breeze rustled through the branches. A furtive whispering. Voices without lips muttering secrets of their own. ‘I looked into that stranger’s eyes, I saw the knowing smile, and it came so powerfully to me – a revelation of dazzling intensity – the stranger in the tavern knew the Ripper’s name. Every instinct told me that fact.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘I was distracted when a constable came in to speak to me. When I looked back, the man had gone. Probably through a side door and into the alley.’
‘You can describe him?’
‘That’s such a peculiar thing. Even though I am blessed, or cursed, with an almost photographic memory, I can’t. No. I stared at the stranger from a mere ten paces away. Yet I cannot name an article of his clothing. I can’t remember his face. All I do remember – and it’s burnt inside of me – is the way he smiled. That and the look in his eye. The amusement. The gratification of knowing secrets that would forever remain hidden from me.’
‘The stranger couldn’t have been the Ripper. He wouldn’t taunt you so brazenly.’
Abberline sighed. ‘I wake up at night, and I wonder. Had I been within touching distance of the most notorious murder in the world?’ He shook his head. ‘You know, my instinct tells me I’ve seen that same look again recently. A glint in the eye that says: “I’m better than you, Policeman. I know something you don’t”. But where have I seen it? In whose eye have I seen that expression of gloating? Once again, my usually iron-clad memory is letting me down”. Abberline fell silent. A breath of wind stirred the branches again – the oaks whispered to one another.
And, suddenly, there he was. He’d arrived without any fuss, or making the slightest sound during his approach.
‘Gentlemen, are you wishing to find me?’
The man in the yellow coat stepped out of the shadows.
The yellow coat blazed like a flame in the gloom beneath the trees. Thomas still sat in the cart opposite Abberline. Both men stared at the stranger. While, emerging from the shadows behind him, was the maidservant, Laura Morgan. She appeared to glide, silent as a ghost. Her expression suggested that here was woman in shock: her eyes were glassy, her face expressionless. Laura never even appeared to notice the carriage, or the men upon it.
The man in the yellow coat was the one and the same one that Thomas had pursued at Fairfax Manor, and whom he’d named The God Thief. The stranger pointed a revolver at Abberline.
‘Gentlemen, pronto: I need your transport.’ His words were strongly accented.
The soldier, who’d been holding the horse, moved so swiftly he was a blur. He flung himself forward, knocking the pistol from the man’s hand. The God Thief responded by seizing the soldier by the tunic. He yanked him off-balance, sending him crashing into a tree trunk. The soldier fell sprawling. Thomas saw he’d been knocked cold.
The pistol! Thomas rose to his feet and leapt from the carriage. He shoved the man backwards, away from the pistol lying on the ground. As he did so, he noticed a hole in the yellow sleeve – a bullet hole? A stab wound? Whatever had caused it, blood streamed from the rip in the fabric. The man was effectively rendered one-handed. Thomas grabbed the man’s good arm, and seized him by the collar.
The man’s head whipped forward, his forehead striking Thomas on the cheekbone. The blow knocked Thomas off his feet. Dear God, that hurt. What’s more, when he tried to stand, purple clouds swirled in front of his eyes. His legs wouldn’t function, and he sank back down to his knees. Laura watched with a strange blankness of expression. She remained standing there, an unmoving statue, saying nothing, not even blinking.
Abberline launched himself at Thomas’s attacker. The God Thief was perhaps twenty years younger than Abberline and he fought like a tiger. A whirling, darting creature. Ferocious. Strong. Completely fearless. Even though limited to the use of one arm, he repeatedly punched Abberline. The detective was driven back until the next blow bounced him against the side of the carriage.
Thomas realized that he would now witness Inspector Abberline’s murder. He tried to climb to his feet, but he was so dizzy he slumped back to his knees again.
‘Stop….’ Thomas managed to croak the word. ‘Stop … enough….’
The God Thief glanced back as Thomas shouted, perhaps expecting Thomas to launch another attack. Thomas, however, was soundly beaten. He felt as if he’d been kicked by a horse.
His attacker spun back to face Abberline – he did so, just as Abberline seized the shotgun from the carriage. Gripping the butt of the gun, he used it as a club. The barrel snapped down with brutal force on the man’s injured arm.The man howled. His mouth stretched wide in a massive O. This time the pain struck home. The attacker stumbled back, gasping for air. Abberline turned the gun round, aiming the weapon directly at the man’s heart.
Everything happened so fast that Thomas wondered if he was dreaming. Soldiers sprinted through the trees. Horsemen galloped along the road. Everywhere there were milling figures. Strong hands grabbed the figure in the yellow coat. Thomas saw the man’s blood dripping onto the soil.
William dismounted from his horse. He pointed a pistol at the man’s face.
‘You are our prisoner,’ William panted. ‘You cannot escape.’
The God Thief smiled. ‘You really think so?’ He spoke in a strong European accent. ‘Please look in my pocket.’ The smile broadened. ‘Si. Here in the left pocket of my extraordinary coat. You will find an item there that changes everything.’
Thomas Lloyd thought: We make a strange grouping of people. He’d managed to climb to his feet after being knocked to the ground by the ferocious head-butt. Now he gazed at the people beneath the trees, swaying slightly as he did so. Half-a-dozen soldiers clustered around the man in the yellow coat. Some gripped him by the arms. Others aimed rifles at him. William Denby held a pistol at the man’s head. Abberline, meanwhile, dusted himself down after his own fight. That same man had just invited his captors to remove an object from the pocket of his striking yellow coat. The rogue had even smiled as he’d said: You will find an item there that changes everything.
Laura Morgan continued to stand there in a trance, her eyes glassily staring into space. Murmuring reassurances, Thomas helped her into the back of the open-topped carriage. When she was seated, he quickly arranged a blanket about her shoulders. Still she’d said nothing. The maid was in a world of her own.
Meanwhile, William Denby reached into the man’s pocket. He pulled out an envelope that was smeared redly from the wound. A crimson stain had also formed on the yellow fabric.William handed the envelope to Inspector Abberline. The detective swiftly pulled out a sheet of paper on which was printed an elaborate crest with swirling black lines, topped by a regal crown.
William Denby said, ‘We do have our suspect, don’t we? The devil that killed my brothers, and planned doing away with me?’
Abberline sighed with frustration. ‘No, William, we do not. This letter is from the Italian Embassy in London.’ He began to read: ‘To whom it may concern. The bearer of this document is a member of the ambassadorial staff of the Kingdom of Italy. I hereby confirm that Signor Franco Cavalli is granted the customary rights and privileges accorded to all members of embassies of all sovereign states, and that Signor Cavalli enjoys full diplomatic immunity.’
The man in the yellow coat smiled. ‘Which means, gentlem
en, I am no longer your prisoner. Isn’t that so, Inspector Abberline?’ The smile broadened. ‘Indeed, I know of your fame, signor. I much admire your work. Bravissimo. A genius. A hero of law and order.’
Abberline gave a curt nod. ‘William, let him go. Soldiers, lower your weapons.’
William stared in disbelief. ‘We have him! This is your suspect, surely?’
‘I don’t believe that this gentleman is in any way linked to the deaths of your brothers.’
‘But he kidnapped a member of my domestic staff. God alone knows what the brute has done to her. See? A button has been ripped from her blouse.’
‘Put your revolver away,’ Abberline said firmly. ‘You see what is written here. The man has diplomatic immunity. Therefore, I am not allowed to detain him. He is free to go.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’ The Italian gave a courteous bow now that the soldiers had released their grip on him. ‘If you please?’ He held out his hand.
Abberline handed him the paper.
‘Inspector.’ William’s face flushed red with anger. ‘I am not going to permit this thug to leave. He kidnapped Laura Morgan. It’s clear that he’s assaulted her.’
Thomas stepped forward. ‘I found the button in the balloon shed. It must have been torn off when Laura struggled with this … gentleman.’
‘I am Franco.’ The smile hadn’t left his face. ‘Call me, Franco, please.’
William’s jaw had set with absolute determination. ‘Look at the girl. She is in shock. Clearly, he has violated her. Who will ever know if I put a bullet in the devil’s head? I’ll bury him myself under a dung heap.’
‘Si.’ Franco nodded. ‘You could execute me, Signor Denby. However, if you did that you would not hear, from my lips, information that is vital to you.’
‘And what is that, pray?’ asked Abberline.
