“I am sorry, Sir,” she spoke. “But Master Lucius is not taking visitors as of present.”
“Tell him it is I, I feel that he may change his mind.”
She nodded and excused herself as she disappeared back into the house. She returned several moments later and led me into the smart, if not sparsely decorated, main hall. We walked through it and she opened the door to the living room where I found Lucius slouched in his armchair, smoking and drinking and staring idly into the raging fireplace. He made a lazy gesture in acknowledgement, and the maid bowed and left the room. I stood in silence, waiting for some sort of nod, but Lucius remained slumped in his chair, glass of wine in hand. Behind him was a grand portrait of himself. The grand of noble splendour; fictitious, presumably at his request.
Lucius finally croaked. “I suppose you heard.”
“What were you thinking?”
Lucius beckoned for me to join him in a seat, but I walked over to him and remained stood, understanding from his demeanour that this would be a brief meeting. “The same as you, Eric, although I admit my attempts were potentially a bit short sighted.”
“The devil are you on about?”
Lucius beckoned again to the chair, and I sat. He offered me drink and cigars, but I passed.
He continued, “It is only a matter of time before He kills us, I am sure you know this. We cannot escape, He will find and kill us. I felt as if I were safer behind bars than anywhere else in the world.”
“If they convicted you, you would have gone to the gallows.”
“A more fitting end than to be killed by Him, I feel.”
“Why is He doing this?”
“In the last meeting you requested the death of Arthur Shaw, which was granted.”
“And Arthur Shaw was behind this entire thing,” I cut in. “At least, that is what I understand.”
“You knew?”
“No, not then. It was only after I visited him in an attempt to reverse the entire thing that I learned. From what he said I assume he held some sort of control over you, as he did over my business in the form of blackmail, and used you to give life to this entire thing.”
“Yes.”
“Well, spit it out. Tell me your side of the story.”
Lucius looked over his shoulder, but the room was empty. “I would prefer not to.”
“I did not visit for you to remain tight lipped. You have dragged me into this thing, Lucius, and now your position has been revealed. You owe the truth to me, now. Especially now, with us all in the same boat.”
Lucius’s eyes seemed to sink. “It started several years back, although I do not know the exact date. Well, it probably started many, many years before that, although I can only speculate. Shaw operated by planting the seed in the mind of one person. He told them that if they started up a group and paid his fees, then he could arrange the death of anyone. All they would have to do is bring people, and their money, to the table, and the deal is on. Once the pot grew too large, Shaw would kill the members at the table. He would liquidise their companies, pocket all money, and step away. To the police it just looked like some sort of corporate spat.”
“Did nobody trace the company that bought them all out?”
“It was a front. Is that not always the case? Shaw had enough control to be able to fix up fake companies, and to have paperwork conveniently disappear.”
“And the police never caught onto this?”
“Think about how long we have been going on now. About a year? It happens so sporadically that the police just never made the link.”
“So, your involvement. Shaw approached you?”
“Yes, he asked the exact same thing.”
“At what point did you figure it out?”
Lucius dipped his head. “From the beginning.”
“You… you knew we were all going to die from the beginning? And you just let it go on?”
“Shaw had me by the throat, I had no choice.”
“You could have said no!”
Lucius looked up at me and I saw that he was crying. “No. I could not. I never had that chance. You see, it was my parents that were originally approached by Shaw. They followed the same path, as we did now, and figured out far too late. When they understood what was happening, and they realised that escape was impossible same as we have, they made plans instead. They gifted the company to me and told everyone they were migrating to America on a business venture.”
“Your parents… never actually left.”
“No, nor did their cover go according to plan. Jack… He came for them earlier than they expected. Perhaps he had heard their story and decided to intervene before it was too late. When he attacked them, I was there. It happened in this very room. Shaw was there, too, to oversee it I suppose. My parents apologised and explained a little in the little time they had, knowing that the façade of leaving me for America had now been broken. They did not get enough time, however, and that wretch killed them.”
“Jack?”
Lucius nodded. “Afterwards Jack turned to me, but Shaw stopped him. He asked if I wanted to live or die, and the answer was obvious, I suppose. Shaw offered to make me a deal. He said if I continued my parents good work, he would ensure I would live. What choice did I have?”
“So you formed another group.”
“He explained everything my parents had done, and said I simply needed to follow their steps. He said if I did so, and did not disobey as my parents had done, then I would be free to go.”
“And what about us?”
“…what?”
“What about the members of the group you brought in. Us. Did you know of our fate? That we were to be killed.”
“No, not then. I learned that later. Around the same time that I realised Shaw’s promise to keep me alive was most likely a complete lie in order to keep me going.” Lucius ran his hand down his face, smearing tears and sweat into his skin. “I did not choose you out of spite, Eric. You were just unfortunate to cross my path on a day when I was looking for someone. To me, you could have been anyone. If you had walked out of that shop five minutes later, you may have never been a part of this.”
“So, what now? With Shaw dead, where does that leave us with Him?”
“Dead,” Lucius said bluntly. “Shaw was a businessman. We would have had until he decided we were beneficial enough to cut from the tree, so to speak. But Him? He is just a murderer; a pale imitation for Shaw – for that is what I believe He intends to be. I do not know what He will do, but it will follow less logic. He will kill us as His fancy takes, I presume.”
“Why did he do it? Kill Shaw?”
“Money. It is the answer to everything, is it not, Eric? That has been the entire thing all along. We joined for the money. We stayed for the money. Now, we are going to die for the money. If you look for any more logic in that, I am afraid you will find none. He killed Shaw because, like his targets, he had finally become beneficial enough to kill.”
I laid back into the settee, trying to let it all sink in, but unable to. So this was the truth. No black magic, nor guardian angel. We had been ushered in like cattle and we were to be slaughtered. Still were, I could only assume.
Lucius shook his head. “I never wanted this. I have had to sit in those meetings for months whilst you all accused me of permitting such a thing, but I can tell you I never wanted it this way. I had to bury my own parents and lie about their wellbeing for a year, do you know how that feels? Do you know how it feels to have to sit here and know that this place is also my parents tomb?”
I knew. I knew far too well that feeling. I missed my Father. My thoughts turned to him wondering what he would do now. As I thought of him, a cold chill ran down my spine. “Who else was in their group?”
Lucius did not respond.
“You tell me right now, Lucius. Who else was in their group?”
He looked up at me, his eyes desperate. “I am sorry, Eric.”
“You bastard.”
> “My parents never knew. They would have never invited him had they of known.”
He did not get a chance to say anything further. I leapt from my seat and brought my fist against his face. He made a slight attempt to block it, but did not push back. I swung again, and this time the seat fell backwards. Pinned between the floor and I, I swung wildly at Lucius. My vision was a blur, but I could feel fist connect with flesh. I swung and swung until I felt a throbbing in my knuckle. I swung some more until all feeling left my hand, and then I stood and left without looking back. Whether Lucius was conscious, or ever alive, I did not stay to find out. The bastard.
The bastard! He had looked me in the eyes for a year and offered me apologies for my Father’s death, when he had really known all along.
Act IV: Justice or Death
Chapter XX
Lucius’s voice resonated about the room at the dawn of the next meeting with the aura of a man who had long since given up hope, “Arthur Saw is dead.” He face was bruised and his right eye did not open properly, but despite the query of the other men in the room he did not talk of it. He continued speaking without joy, only in a matter of fact manner that was lost on the group, repeating it over as if to verify it. “Arthur Shaw is dead. The very thing Eric has asked for was done.”
Silence. Francis stared down at the table as if he wished to argue further. He did not. Perhaps all his will had been sapped by his wretch of a friend who betrayed his wishes. I felt horrid, but there was little else I could do, and there were further complications at work now.
Palmer was the one to break the silence. “Then, shall we play?”
Lucius nodded, but did not shuffle the cards. Instead, he merely lifted them up and placed them in front of Palmer to shuffle and deal. He took them grudgingly, but without protest, and began to deal them out to the men who remained chained to table.
It was strange, seeing Lucius as fearful as the rest of us. Had he always been this way, deep down? Perhaps I had simply not noticed until now. He had seemed so driven to kill, but was that just because I was blinded the situation? Or was it because he simply understood what would happen if he did not? Perhaps it was all an act.
We played, if you could call it that. Francis and I played as usual, moving through the motions, but not actually pairing any of our cards up. I suspect Lucius did the same, for he made no pairs through the entire game and merely offered his hand up at every opportunity. Palmer rushed through his turns, placing down his pairs the moment he got them. Harry played as normal, although I suspected it was not something he wished to do.
With little surprise given the circumstances, Palmer emerged victorious. He cheered, but the room remained silent to his victory cries. Lucius did not even ask, Palmer simply stood and proclaimed, “Edgar Brook! Of Brook & Partner!” and with that, marched out the door with a spring in his step.
The rest of the room remained, however. We held for a while, staring at one another as if we wished to accuse, to admit, or to warn, but nothing came. There was only silence for a while until Lucius stood, the rest of us following suit, and we all went our separate ways.
I returned home and spent my evening packing. I had to face the idea now that at some point I may need to escape, that the situation may reach a level where everything is utterly lost. I hoped to stay, to retain the wealth I had amassed and to simply avoid His wrath, but I had to entertain the thought that such a situation was unlikely. My evening was taken up by searching my house for anything I would wish to take with me, but found nothing. There were no materials in that home which would bring me any job. Eventually, all I packed were clothes and enough money to see me by. Anything else I would need to procure on the road, but I hoped it would not come to that. How long I would manage on the road before my money ran dry I was unsure. I had managed once before abroad, but I was well funded for that trip. I worried that I may meet my end in the cold streets of some foreign town, but I still decided I had a better chance on the road than with the madman of London.
Still, my hope was not entirely sapped. Even Jack had to draw the line somewhere, else He endanger Himself. The wealth of The Hudson Group remained, perhaps no longer in our hands, but it existed. The pot that once paid into, that Lucius had proclaimed as his own, was never actually ours. It was all a ruse to set up a means to pay Shaw directly, although presumably those funds now rerouted to Jack. To stop paying would mean death. The only way I could see was to remain vigilant, watch Jacks movements, and attempt to leave with whatever I could when the time came. I had to accept that the only prize I may be leaving with was my life, but not for want of trying. I wanted the money that was rightfully mine.
That was assuming Jack still held the funds. He was a law into his own, for He did not operate in the same way Shaw did. He was not a businessman, and it was unclear what His motives were.
After I finished packing, my mind turned to more immediate matters. What were my next moves? Jack had to be stopped, most likely not by my own hand, but could I influence such a situation? We knew little about Him, where He lived or who He talked to. There was so little to go off. I pulled out all the newspapers of the murders I had collected since my return to London, pinning them to the wall of my study, but they provided little insight – and what insight they did give may have been pure imagination, no thanks to the media sensation.
I worked into the evening, pacing and venting to myself until there was a knock at my door, answering it to Francis. The hour was late for him to visit, but I beckoned him in seeing that he was visibly distressed. He shifted uneasily into the lounge and, when he said nothing, I asked him what he had to say.
He said, “The entire thing is falling apart. I think it must be coming to a head. Even Lucius sees it, do you not think? He looked like a shell of himself.”
I shrugged. I wanted to help Francis, but at the same time I thought it unwise to let on of the horrors that I knew. “I fear he knows something that we do not.”
“I have a feeling you are right, although I do not feel any better for it.”
“So, did you risk us both coming out here just to talk about Lucius’s façade crumbling?”
“No. We need to start making plans. At some point Jack is going to stop killing in our favour and presumably turn against us. I fear, judging by the meeting past, that such a time is now. I was thinking that the moment one of our targets remains alive then he has stopped and we should escape, not a moment later! Do you agree?”
“Why not now?”
“I presume he is still watching us. Perhaps he has evaded killing entirely to keep watch on us all, in which case it may be too late for any escape, but I cannot lose all hope. However, there are five of us, and only two of his eyes, unless you believe the nonsense of his devilry. He is merely human; he cannot be perfect in his execution.”
“What if there are more of him?”
Francis stopped. “What?”
“What is ‘Jack’ is entirely a media construct and, in reality, our targets were killed by multiple people. It would explain a lot, would it now? The ground covered for the killings, the ability to watch over us.”
Francis did not respond. I could see him entertaining the thought. It was a frightening thought, one I was not entirely sure I bought into myself, but I had to at least consider it. I had only ever seen the one Jack stood before me, but the smoke and mirrors that surrounded him meant there could be something far more complex behind the concept steel and skin, a project of many men.
I asked, “So what do you propose we do?”
“Actually, I was hoping you had some sort of idea. I could only think to bide our time until some sort of opportunity arises, but it seems we have little time to play with.”
I said, “James. James is our hope, can you not see?”
“No. No, are you insane? He is our friend, but if he discovers what we have done then he will side with justice. Always. You told him?!”
“Are you quite done? I have not told James anything. All he
knows is that there is a killer out there. I see no harm in aiding him.”
“You will lead him right to us!”
“Francis, do use your initiative. I am not likely to lead James, hand in hand, to Lucius’ house and present him with our link to Jack, but I cannot sit here whilst the investigation continues to flounder. It needs a nudge in the right direction and it will only appear natural coming from a friend who wishes to help. If the police do not get to Jack first, He will get to us and that will be that, He will flee into the depths of obscurity and forever evade His fate. We need to be proactive; we must keep the police at bay whilst closing in on Jack.”
“And what if Jack strikes out at us in return?”
“Why would he? From His perspective it will merely look like the police are gaining ground on Him, not related to our actions at all. In turn, this will keep Him busy enough for us to make our own moves – be it flee, or take the upper hand.”
“Perhaps you are right, but I do not feel comfortable having James so close to this nightmare. All it needs is one slip of the tongue…”
“And I do not feel comfortable having Jack so close to us. This is the best way to approach this, and I am certain that if things go wrong I can explain our situation to James. He will understand if he has to, but hopefully we will avoid such a time.”
“Very well, you make a valid argument and it is our best plan so far, but I must warn you that James will not side with men who have condoned murder, even when they are his friends, and especially when they have stood by him throughout. He will see it as an insult.”
I nodded. “I will visit James tomorrow, I think. Hopefully together we can decide what to do, or I can influence his decision.”
Francis rubbed his face in his hands. “Very well, I will leave that to you then whilst I search for other opportunities. I am going to return home now, I could do with some damned sleep. You too, by the look of it. I shall see myself out. Stay safe, Eric. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The Killing Hand Page 17
