“Are you the brother?” Ainsley asked.
The man suppressed a smile, but his intimidating gaze didn’t falter.
When Delilah entered, she sat down with a jubilant bounce that rocked the carriage. “I told you I could do it on my own, Stanley,” she said, slipping the small firearm into her reticule. When she looked up from her bag, her happy demeanor soured. “You don’t look scared,” she said, glancing to Stanley on her right.
“Should I be?” Ainsley asked as Stanley pulled a pistol from an inside pocket and laid it on his knee, pointing the barrel at Ainsley. It took a great deal of effort for Ainsley to supress his fear. He carefully calculated each of his movements, knowing fear was the desired outcome. Fear is what controls a man.
While Delilah sulked, Stanley raised a fist to the ceiling and banged on the red velvet twice to alert the driver they were ready.
They made no effort to conceal where they were headed. Through the window Ainsley could plainly see the carriage was being led through the south London streets, past Waterloo Station and Blackfriars’ Bridge before turning down a narrow passage and into a wider courtyard. Ainsley could smell the thick sour yeast of the nearby brewery, churning out a fermented exhaust that permeated the already heavy air. The substantial gate at the courtyard entrance, caked with green paint and cracked intermittently, was already closed by the time the carriage came to a stop.
Delilah was the first to exit while Stanley motioned with the pistol for Ainsley to go before him.
Outside the carriage, Ainsley was granted a better view. The building was a large, three-storey red brick warehouse with black-framed windows, some boarded up with arched wooden panels. Dormer windows dotted the attic storey, matching the pattern of the windows below them. Delilah stood at the entrance of a breezeway, a passage that led from the courtyard to the main road.
“Come now,” Delilah beckoned him. “My brother has no patience.”
With one hand on her hip, she held the pendant of her silver necklace with her free hand as Ainsley passed.
Ainsley walked the length of the breezeway, noticing Chubb locks on each warehouse door they passed and then one door left wide open. Inside he could see a public house not yet opened for the evening’s business. A tall man stood at the counter hunched over a wide-paged book. When his gaze caught Ainsley’s he straightened his stance and hardened his expression.
Delilah stood halfway in the door. “Where is he?” she asked the barkeep.
“His usual place.”
Ainsley saw a smirk on the man’s face before he turned away. Delilah retraced her steps back into the courtyard. Stanley nudged Ainsley from behind. “Get on then,” he said.
Ainsley obliged. He wasn’t bound or restrained in any way. If he truly wanted to run he could, and could probably have made it to the other side of the yard before Stanley would think to raise his gun. There was something else to their method of security, something unseen. Out in the sunlight again, Ainsley scanned the yard but saw nothing except a young man tending the horses that had just brought them by carriage. Ainsley kept an eye on Delilah, who was already twenty paces ahead, while he scanned the windows. They were all devoid of life.
Delilah stopped at a set of stairs that led down and placed a hand on the top of the iron railing. “This is where our boys train,” she said, almost boastfully.
Tell him. Tell him. The whispers echoed and reverberated as they swirled around him. You can’t leave us.
And then movement caught Ainsley’s eye, forcing him to look up. By the time his vision focused the image was gone but Ainsley already recognized what he had seen. A girl hiding behind one of the dormer windows. He didn’t get a good enough look to formulate a description and for a second or two he thought perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him again.
“Is there a problem, doctor?” Delilah asked.
Ainsley shook his head. “No.”
She gestured to the stairs, inviting him to head down. At the bottom a set of double doors were propped open but he could see nothing beyond.
“After you, ma’am,” he said.
Delilah gave a half smile and a quick glance to Stanley behind him before hiking up her skirt and marching down the steps. On one of the stairs Ainsley thought he saw a pool of blood, caked on and melted into the stone of the steps.
Beyond the doors came the familiar sounds of the boxing ring, only instead of two fighters sparing in a centre ring there were countless shirtless men paired off and running training exercises. The familiar smell of sweat, old and new, met them at the door as they walked in. Ainsley scanned the dimly lit room, trying to pinpoint who exactly was Thaddeus. Eventually, he spotted a man in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and cigar in his hand. He was no older than Ainsley but he carried himself with as much authority and charm as any man Ainsley had seen in the House of Lords.
Delilah crossed the room, enjoying the stares and whistles she drew from the room full of men, perhaps even inviting the attention with a wider swing of her hips, and went straight for her brother. Ainsley held back at the door as she spoke.
“This is Dr. Ainsley, the man I was telling you about,” she said, turning to look Ainsley in the eye.
Thaddeus raised his cigar to his mouth as he looked Ainsley over.
“See? I told you I could get him here.” Delilah chuckled at her own cleverness. She reached into Thaddeus’s inside breast pocket and pulled out a palm-sized silver box. With a slim cigar in her slender fingers she slapped the metal case into her brother’s hand and turned from him. “He needed very little persuading.”
Ainsley watched as Thaddeus leaned into her and whispered something in her ear. Delilah shrugged as he pulled away and said nothing by way of a reply.
Thaddeus took a few steps, shortening the gap between them before he spoke. “Welcome,” he said, switching his cigar from one hand to the other. “I am honoured to meet the great Dr. Peter Ainsley. My name is Thaddeus. Thaddeus Calvin.”
The man’s smile looked natural enough, but Ainsley knew how men like him enjoyed putting on the show, as much as the fear they caused.
A man from the right fell into Ainsley, pulling them both to the ground. The man had a black eye and contusion to his cheekbone. He looked Ainsley in the face as he landed on top of him. “Tell Julia,” he said, in an almost inaudible whisper, “to pray for me.”
The man was pulled off him by Stanley, who swung him back toward his sparring partner. “I’m sorry, sir,” the boxer said. “Terribly sorry.”
Thaddeus appeared over Ainsley and offered an outstretched hand to help him to his feet. “I do apologize. It can be a madhouse in here, sometimes. Perhaps we should go talk in my office.”
As Ainsley was brought to his feet he looked to the man who had just tackled him, but was afraid to draw too much attention to the incident. It was clear he had been handed a message, but from who?
Moments later, Ainsley was being shown upstairs to a sizable room above the public house. Thaddeus led the way and gestured to a blue velvet conversation set, two armchairs and a sofa circling an oval table as he walked past.
“Please, have a seat.”
He headed straight for the table just beyond the sofa, where an assortment of liquor decanters was displayed on a glass tray. Beyond the sitting area was a platform only six inches above the rest of the room where a large, empty desk was placed.
“Care for a drink?” he asked.
Ainsley didn’t move from his spot behind the chair. Delilah came in the room, twirling her silver pendant in her hand. She perched herself on the arm of the opposite chair, a vantage point that allowed her to look at both Ainsley and her brother.
Thaddeus poured two drinks and walked toward Ainsley with one in each hand. He handed over one of the glasses. “This conversation would go much smoother if you would humour me and sit.”
Ainsley allowed him to slide the glass into his hand and only sat when Thaddeus himself returned to his seat at the sofa.
Ainsley eyed the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled the vessel from side to side. It had been nearly a month since he had had a drink and now was not the time to cave in to the call.
“Well, go on,” Delilah pressed, puffing on her cigar and blowing the smoke into the air above her. “Ask him.”
Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Thaddeus raised his gaze to Stanley, who stood just inside the door. Stanley gave a nod but didn’t move from his post.
“That will be all, Delilah,” Thaddeus said with a sigh. Delilah’s face hardened as she stood tall, clearly startled by her brother’s dismissal. She looked to Stanley and, perhaps seeing his resolve, decided not to press the issue. Thaddeus and Ainsley sat quietly as Delilah crossed the room, her footsteps punching her frustration down into the floorboards.
Thaddeus nodded to Stanley, who promptly closed the door as they left.
“Forgive her,” Thaddeus said. “My sister is easily excitable. She doesn’t know when to hold her tongue.” He leaned further back into the cushions of the sofa, crossing one leg over his knee. He took extra care to make himself comfortable while Ainsley sat near the edge of his seat, eyeing the enticing liquid in the crystal glass.
“So, Dr. Ainsley, what kind of doctor are you?” Thaddeus asked.
“A surgeon.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Is that so? I often am in need of a good surgeon.”
“I’m not looking for employment.”
“Then what are you looking for?” Thaddeus asked. His features were stern, as if steeling himself against anything Ainsley might say. His gaze did not unlock from Ainsley’s. For a long while, they sat refusing to break the stare, like two stags held in a standoff.
Eventually, Thaddeus reached into his pocket. Ainsley watched as he unfolded a piece of paper and tossed it onto the table between them. From his place across the table Ainsley could see the scribble of Jerry’s hand and the address Ainsley had begged him for the night before. It was then that Ainsley realized Delilah must have picked his pocket at the Yard that very morning and in front of a dozen officers no less. He worked hard to suppress a smile of amusement.
“You a boxer?” Thaddeus asked.
“At times.”
“Looking for some side action? A bout or two?”
Ainsley shook his head.
Thaddeus smiled and pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Then tell me why you would have a piece of paper with my address written on it in your breast pocket.” He licked his lips. “A breast pocket is reserved for items of great importance, are they not?” Thaddeus slid back into the comfort of the chair, and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee. He looked so comfortable and unaffected by Ainsley’s presence. This was a man who was used to his own authority. “Why is my place of business so important to you?”
Ainsley placed his glass, the alcohol untouched, onto the table in front of him before he spoke. “I pulled a body of a young woman out of the river this morning—”
“Tragic.”
“—she bore a branded mark on the back of her neck,” Ainsley said, touching the spot with his finger.
“Is that so? You believe I am connected to a random woman found in the Thames?”
“I am looking into the deaths of a number of women. I was wondering if you knew anything about them.”
“I should say not. I like my women livelier than that.” Thaddeus smiled coyly and drew a long breath from his cigar.
Realizing the man was well-versed in the art of deception, Ainsley nodded. This was the man he had been desperate to track down, the one everyone warned him about. Despite the gun they pointed at him and the strongman who waited just beyond that door, it was clear Thaddeus was attempting to disarm him with charm, his preferred weapon.
“Is that all—?”
“What about a young woman named Julia?” Ainsley asked, raising his gaze to meet Thaddeus’ squarely. “Perhaps you know something about her.”
Thaddeus’ jaw tightened at the mention of his estranged wife. “I haven’t seen Julia for some time,” he said, his hardened demeanor softening somewhat. “I had thought she left London altogether.”
“She was reported missing two days ago. My investigation brought me to you.”
“You’re a surgeon with the Yard then?”
“Not directly.”
Thaddeus nodded his understanding before giving a nonchalant shrug. “Like I said, I haven’t seen her.”
After a long, self-reflective pause, Thaddeus lifted his glass and downed its contents in a single gulp. He stood suddenly and began walking to his desk.
“Did you know I used to work the canals in Skipley with my uncle?” He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged when Ainsley shook his head. “Our job was to lead the horses back and forth on the towpaths, bringing limestone from one point to the next.” Thaddeus stopped and looked to Ainsley. “Have you ever seen those horses?”
Ainsley thought it best not to answer.
“I was seven years old and they were enormous. Great beasts. Legs wider than my entire body. They absolutely terrified me.” He stopped at a hutch behind his desk and unlocked the middle cupboard.
Still uneasy, Ainsley watched intently, wondering what the man was up to.
Thaddeus pulled out a bottle of liquor and then locked the cupboard again. He smiled when he turned and found Ainsley looking at him. “I save my best for conversations such as this,” he said as he poured some in his glass. He walked toward Ainsley with the bottle in front of him. “Sherry?”
Ainsley shook his head and raised his hand to stop Thaddeus from giving him any.
He shrugged and returned to his seat. “You see, while the horses scared me as a young boy, it didn’t take me long to realize they were more scared of me than I was of them. Each Friday my uncle would stop the barge and buy a pie for our lunch at the bridge. He’d tie the horse to the tiniest wooden chair set against the tunnel wall.” He took a sip of his sherry and smiled at either the memory or the taste.
“Now that horse was so strong from leading heavy limestone barges all day that he could have easily ripped that leather strap free within seconds and trampled us both, but he didn’t.” He held his glass up and used his index finger to point to his temple. “The tether is in here, doctor,” he said with a smile. “We choose to be broken, or we choose to be free.”
Ainsley felt beads of sweat formulate on his forehead as Thaddeus spoke, waving his hands about, accentuating his points.
“My mother, my sister Delilah, shit, even Stanley out there, chose to be tethered,” he said, with a laugh. “But Julia”—the expression on his face soured as he raised his eyebrows—“she could never be broken no matter how hard I tried.”
Bile rose up into Ainsley’s throat as images of Thaddeus trying to break Julia took over his imagination. The thought of that man touching her with a loving hand had been harsh enough. Ainsley downed the contents of his glass while his free hand curled into a fist.
Thaddeus laughed and licked his lips. “You say little but that right there told me many things that I desired to know.”
“Where is she?” Ainsley’s words came out as a growl that he could not subdue.
His adversary seemed surprised by Ainsley’s question. “I told the truth when I said I haven’t seen her in almost a year,” he said raising his eyebrows. “I told you, she could not be tamed.” He leaned over the table to pour himself another drink and then raised the bottle toward Ainsley. “Another?”
Ainsley stood, agitated by Thaddeus’ couth attitude but also his own frantic state.
“Did she not tell you she was married?” Thaddeus teased. “I’m not surprised. She is a woman, after all. Cunning, and somewhat deluded.” Thaddeus stood then, choking the neck of the bottle of sherry as he walked back to the locked cupboard. “I had a feeling this might happen one day, that her mess would be mine to clean up.” He locked the cupboard and turned to face Ainsley. “Do you know what I do, doctor? I clean up other people’s messes. I get rid
of bodies found in backyards. I don’t ask how they got there. I just clean up the mess. I find uses for useless people. I protect people from themselves—”
“You extort them.”
Thaddeus shrugged. “Semantics.” He reached down and opened the top drawer of his desk. “We all have secrets. Every single one of us.” He placed a pistol on the desktop, pulling his hand away and slipping it into his pocket.
Ainsley recognized it instantly as the G. & J. Deane pistol he himself had possessed months earlier, the very one he had on him the night he lost his mind. The room spun and then tilted on a diagonal, forcing Ainsley to close his eyes.
“I knew this would be difficult for you to see,” Thaddeus said. “You see, that night, I cleaned—”
“You’re lying,” Ainsley growled.
“Excuse me?”
“You cleaned up nothing. The club…my friends, protected me.”
Thaddeus clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No, no, my friend, it was me and my little army of soldiers. I couldn’t abide by a child killer any more than you could. I applaud your actions and only wished I had done it myself.”
“But you didn’t have to.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. There will always be others willing to do the dirty work.”
Ainsley felt bile itching up his throat.
“You owe me, Peter,” Thaddeus said, using Ainsley’s first name for the first time.
“I owe you nothing,” Ainsley snarled as he turned his head. He could not fathom being blackmailed into such a partnership, not when he suspected the man capable of murder.
Thaddeus wagged his finger at Ainsley as he rounded the desk. “I beg to differ,” he said, chuckling to himself. “I would think nothing of presenting this lovely piece to your dear Inspector Simms. I wonder how his conscience will force him to respond.”
Prayers for the Dying Page 14
