“Excellent! Now let’s get to work.”
* * *
The day crawled by agonizingly slow for Burke and Hare, the physical labor of moving and positioning the intricately sculpted stones not nearly as taxing on the exhausted men as the prolonged mental stress of not dropping or damaging the statue was. The pressure of having not only Black supervising their every move, but also half the city council who were slowly gathering as the sculpture got closer to completion, was intense and at times nearly overwhelming. Any other day, on any other job, William and Billy would have walked away and quit without a second look back but both men knew leaving wasn’t an option so they kept their mouths shut and worked harder than either lazy man had worked in his life.
At least they’d had help.
The scaffolding Black rented had indeed been waiting for them, fully assembled and miraculously built in the proper place for them to get straight to work. William still hadn’t held out much hope they could construct a large statue in one day but waiting beside the scaffolding, block and tackle equipment in hand, had been a tall muscular man in a wool pea coat and white captain’s hat. Something had been familiar about him but neither Billy nor he had been able to place him until Black introduced the man as Nicholas Garfield, the friend of his from America who’d unloaded the original crates of stone from his Yankee Clipper steamship onto the docks for them.
Mr. Garfield hadn’t been much of a conversationalist. In fact, he barely said a word other than muttering obscenities to urge Burke and Hare to hurry up several times; but what he lacked in small talk he’d more than made up for in sheer brute strength. Blocks of stone that Billy could barely push an inch along the grass, Garfield moved with one huge calloused hand as if it were a child’s play toy. William could remember wondering how one man could have possibly unloaded Black’s crates that fog-shrouded night they’d first met, but after watching the strongman work throughout the day he would never doubt him again; and nor would he ever want to cross paths with the American in a less agreeable situation. The man was a walking monstrosity, a physical freak of nature and William wondered who some of Black’s other friends might be, but quickly decided he’d rather not know – and definitely didn’t want to meet any of them.
The less he knew about his employer and his social circle, the better.
The hours passed. By hook or by crook, by brute strength or incredible skill, by stubborn hard work or perhaps simply good luck the statue slowly took shape. Black himself took charge near the end for the finishing touches; disappearing with a wire brush and a bucket of some awful smelling liquid beneath the massive tarp he’d had them conceal the sculpture within to hide the finished product from the gathering crowd’s eyes. He was out of sight for over half an hour, but just as the last of the sun’s rays were fading in the coal-polluted western sky Black appeared with an empty bucket and a huge smile on his sweaty face.
His statue was finished.
Burke and Hare were grinning nearly as much as the sculptor, never being more thankful that a day’s work was finally over. They moved off to the side and happily stayed out of the way as Black quickly cleaned himself up and then launched into a brief but passionate speech about his sculpture.
“History remembers how King Robert made his last stand against the English hordes outside the nearby town of Bannockburn, June the twenty-fourth, in the year of our Lord thirteen hundred and fourteen, but what many Scots don’t recall was that many of those brave souls who died defending the flag that day came from Edinburgh and their bodies were brought back and buried right here in Calton Cemetery.”
There was a smattering of applause, and then Black continued.
“It’s my fervent hope that this statue remain in this hallowed place for hundreds of years, reminding all who stand in the Bruce’s mighty shadow exactly how high a price this nation paid for its independence and the brave men and women of this great city paid for the freedom you enjoy today.”
When he was done, the small gathering of city officials and onlookers politely applauded and Black stepped to the side to allow Mr. Brown, the Lord Provost to begin his own speech about how excited the city council was to bring this statue to fruition after years of planning and how he hoped the people of Edinburgh would appreciate this tribute to the great man every proud Scotsman owed a massive debt to.
There was more applause followed by a round of handshaking; none of which interested Burke or Hare in the least. As Irishmen, it was all just useless political talk; they didn’t give the slightest damn about Robert the Bruce or any of these fancy toffs’ boring history lessons. They just wanted to get this ceremony over with, get paid, and make their way to the nearest pub for a stiff drink or two. As far as they were concerned, they’d earned it.
The chairman of the council thanked Black for all his efforts (naturally failing to make mention of all the back-breaking work William and Billy had just done) and signaled for the tarp to be removed. With great fanfare, several members of the crowd grabbed hold of the edge of the canvas and began to pull. Inch by inch the cover slid off the wooden scaffolding and soon dropped to their feet on the grass. Even William gasped when he saw what was revealed.
“Look at that, Billy!” he said.
Both men stood to their feet, suddenly just as interested in the statue as the rest of the excited crowd obviously was. Everyone was clapping and yelling and slapping Black on the back, congratulating him for his incredible work. The statue of King Robert stood close to twelve feet tall to the tips of his crown, the details in his handsome face, intricate armor, and the huge sword strapped to his hip all so realistic it nearly took the uncultured workers’ (along with everyone else’s) breaths away. Burke and Hare had known the sculptor’s skill was top-notch and without equal as they’d watched the statue slowly take shape today, but the stones had still been covered in dust and grime and even they’d been unprepared for the beauty of this final product.
“How’d he get it so shiny?” Billy asked, but William wasn’t much help.
“Don’t know, mate. Had to be whatever that stinky liquid was in the bucket. Looks like he’s been polishing it for months. That’s no’ possible…is it?”
Billy could only shrug.
They had to wait around for another half an hour, waiting for the crowd to disperse but eventually the excitement died down and the members of the city council took their leave, more than pleased with the magnificent statue they’d commissioned. Black eventually came over to speak with them, handing William a heavy stack of coins.
“You lads did good work today. Better than expected, truth be told.”
“Are we getting that bonus, then?” Billy said, always the clown.
Black looked at him sternly for a moment but then burst into laughter. “Why in blazes not, huh? You’ve caught me in a rare mood, Billy. Here you go.” The sculptor dropped another few coins in Burke’s outstretched filthy hand. “Now get out of my sight. I want to have a few moments of peace with King Robert if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not, sir,” William said. “Just one question, gov’nor. What was in the bucket that made the stone polish up like that?”
The smile on Ambrosious Black’s face faltered a little at the question but he recovered quickly and said, “Just soap and warm water and some good ol’ fashioned elbow grease.”
“Soap and water? That’s it? Impossible!”
“Nothing’s impossible, William. You’d be surprised what can be accomplished with hard work. And speaking of which…you lads need to get crackin’ on your other job for me. Time is short and I’m expecting results, not excuses, hear?”
William said the only thing he could.
“Yes sir.”
Chapter
12
“Soap and water, my arse!” William said, his teeth clenched in anger.
It was the following night, and although both Burke and Hare were still exhausted from the previous day’s strenuous work helping build the statue (not to me
ntion several hours of drunken foolery in the pub after) the men were back in Calton Cemetery trying to keep both of their mutually impatient employers happy. It was cold and rainy tonight, the fog so thick the grave robbers could almost reach out and comb through layers of it with their bare hands. The ground they were digging in was much harder than usual, not frozen but not far off it either. It didn’t snow too often here in Edinburgh, what with the city’s proximity to the water, but it wouldn’t have surprised William or Billy in the least to see some of the white flakes flying soon. Making things worse, the wind howled in from the North Sea and cut straight through their clothes, chilling them to their bones even though they’d each worn an extra sweater. It was a terrible night to be outside even for a moment, much less standing exposed to the elements out in these open fields.
It was no wonder Hare was in such a foul mood.
“No way could soap shine up those stones like that. I’m telling you, Billy, he’s lying to us. I mean, did you smell that bucket for God’s sake? Smelled worse than your sweaty socks after no’ changing them for a fortnight.”
“For the tenth time…I hear you,” Billy said, pausing his digging for a moment to blow in his hands to try and warm them. “I just don’t know why you keep going on and on about it? Why do you care?”
“’Cause I don’t like being bloody lied to, that’s why. I’ve about had enough. Who in blazes does the old git think he is?”
“Careful, mate…” Billy said, his eyes looking skyward. “That horrible beast of his might be listening. I told you I saw it following me earlier today. It was—”
“I don’t care about the blasted owl. I’m getting sick and tired of letting these people order us around. Bollocks to Black and double bollocks to that bitch down at the theatre. Neither of them will give us a straight answer and they expect us to freeze our cocks off digging though ground as hard as bloody rock. I’ve a good mind to–”
“Shhh…quiet!” Billy said, tugging on William’s arm to try and get him to duck down out of sight. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what? I didn’t hear—”
“Shhh…there it is again. I think someone’s coming!”
Now that Hare focused he could hear it too. Footsteps – heavy ones too, not someone who was trying to stay quiet – were approaching from the south. With the fog and the rain, it was impossible to tell who it might be or if perhaps it was more than one person headed their way. The visit the other night from Magenta Da Vine’s goons was still fresh in Hare’s mind, so he grabbed the spare shovel and whispered in Burke’s ear, “Keep low and out of sight. I’m gonna circle ‘round behind the buggers.”
Before he could argue, William disappeared into the miserable night, leaving Billy standing there all alone inside a half dug grave. Billy crawled out of the hole and crouched down behind a small blackthorn bush. The ground was semi-frozen but was still saturated enough to soak through his pants. He was already drenched to the skin anyway, so what did it matter? Hopefully whoever was in the cemetery with them would go away and leave them alone. The sooner they could get out of here tonight, the better.
A dim glow shattered the gloom, and a short, stocky older man with a grey beard pushed his way through the fog and headed straight for the grave Billy had been digging.
“Hey you!” the man said, easily spotting Billy’s muddy boots sticking out from behind the bush. “What’s your game then, mate?”
There was no reason for Billy to stay in hiding anymore so he climbed to his feet, (just now noticing the new arrival had a pistol aimed his way) and tried to come up with a believable excuse for why he’d be here digging on a dismal night such as this.
“Hello pops. I work for the cemetery, you see, so relax. Been way behind lately so I just thought I’d try and get caught up on—”
“Don’t you ‘ello pops me. I know exactly what you’re up to, mister, so shut it. I told Mr. Farris I’d catch the rotter stealing a’ the bodies and now I’ve gone and done it. You’ll rot in prison for this, you will. Just wait and see.”
“Easy now, old-timer,” Billy said, stalling for time. “This isn’t what it looks like…I can promise you that.”
“Save yer lies for the police. Now drop that shovel and slowly put—”
CLANG!
William’s shovel rang off the cemetery guard’s skull, forcibly driving the old man head first into the frozen ground and shutting him up in a hurry. The potentially dangerous confrontation was over as easily as that.
“Take your time, why don’t ya?” Billy said, rushing over to toss away the fallen man’s handgun and make sure he didn’t try to get back up. “The old bugger could have shot me dead!”
“Aye, and done the world a favor. Stop your whining and let’s tie him up.”
“Umm…don’t think that’s gonna be needed. I think he’s snuffed it!”
“What?”
“He’s dead. Check ‘im yourself if you don’t believe me.”
William did just that, but sure enough the old guard was no longer breathing. Whether it had been the vicious blow to the back of his head that had killed him, or the way he’d been pile-driven face first into the hard earth, it really didn’t matter. The long and short of it was that Burke and Hare were suddenly in a heap of trouble. Getting caught and brought to justice for grave robbing was bad enough, but getting charged with murder was a whole lot worse.
As in swinging from the gallows worse!
“What did you wallop him so hard for?” Billy said, a touch of panic in his voice. “What are we supposed to do now?”
William was way ahead of his less imaginative friend, already calculating the odds of their next move in his head. “We’ve got two choices, Billy. Either we finish digging that hole and bury the old bugger alongside whoever we find there or…we go pay Dr. Knox a visit and turn this little setback into a win-win for everyone.”
“What? You mean sell him? We can’t do that?”
“Why not? Knox likes his bodies fresh, right? You don’t get much fresher than this. We’ll smear a little dirt on his face and clothes and the doc will think we just dug him up, same as always. Who’s to ever know?”
Burke thought hard about that for a few seconds but then a big smile spread across his face. “I like the way you think, mate. Makes me wonder why we’ve been busting our hump for a’ those other bodies though? Why bother going to a’ that trouble, right? Especially this time of the year. I mean, I know we still have to dig the old graves for Black and Da Vine, but why do we need to keep freezing our arses off and risking getting caught digging up the fresh ones?”
Hare was smiling now too, patting his friend on the back.
“It’s a good question, Billy. A good question indeed!”
Chapter
13
The transition from clueless bodysnatching to ruthless cold-blooded murder was seamless and relatively easy for the two Irish freeloaders. Killing a man or woman in an alleyway or dark doorway was much quicker and cleaner than dragging a stiff corpse out of some smelly hole in the ground. It required a whole lot less effort too. They needed to refine their methods of course; bashing someone in the head with a shovel inflicted considerable damage to the body and left incriminating evidence behind that a heinous crime had been committed.
To remedy that problem, the fledgling killers soon learned to suffocate their targets so it would appear to anyone who might examine the bodies that they’d somehow died of natural causes. Hare would hold his hand over the victim's nose and mouth while Burke put the full weight of his body across the chest of the victim, not allowing them to breathe. They still worried about the dire consequences of being caught by the police but as the calendar turned over into the month of December, and as the body count (as well as their stash of money) started to build, so too did their cockiness and blatant disregard for the law. As far as Burke and Hare were concerned, they could do anything they damn well pleased.
Unfortunately, they still had to put on a convinc
ing show of trying to please both Ambrosious Black and the equally intimidating Magenta Da Vine. Although Burke and Hare had no real need for their mysterious benefactors’ paltry stipends anymore, earning a far better payday for their secret deliveries to Dr. Knox, they were determined not to unnecessarily anger the sculptor or the actress if they could avoid it. Quite simply, and perhaps shockingly, the hard-nosed serial killers were still afraid of them both – even though they’d be hard pressed to give a reason as to why. It was just a gut feeling they had; a strong sense of hidden menace that even dangerous men such as they could not ignore. Therefore it was easier to risk the occasional foray into the guarded graveyards than it was to face the consequences of not doing so.
And so the rainy days and cold fog-shrouded nights slowly passed…
* * *
“Come on Billy…put your back into it, man!” William said, tired from another pointless night of digging in the older section of the Calton burial grounds. “You work like an old woman.”
“Oh piss off, why don’t ya? My fingers are freezing off and I’m digging as fast as I can. We shouldn’t even be out here and you bloody well know it.”
“You worry too much, mate. We’re pretty safe way back here. The guards and the coppers are only watching the fresh holes out by the road. They’re only interested in nabbing grave robbers, no’ honest blokes like us.”
“What are we doing here, if it’s no’ called grave robbing?”
“Well…wasting our drinking time for one thing!”
“Right you are there, William. Truest thing you’ve said a’ night. Let’s get out of here, then. I’ve had my fill of shoveling.”
“Me too, but look…you’re practically standing on the lid. Let’s just finish this one and be done with it.”
“I’m too tired. You want to see another box of old crumblin’ bones, ‘ave at it then.” Billy climbed out of the waist-deep hole in the ground and handed the shovel over to William. “I’m done!”
Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls Page 7
