Amos arched his back and looked up at the sky. It had the desired effect as he rose slowly away from the ground. It was an exhilarating feeling and he wondered why this mode of travel had not caught on. As he sailed above the gas works he looked at the fuel gauge and realised why. The cylinders were nearly empty. As soon as the realisation dawned on him the jet-pack spluttered and he started to lose altitude.
He started to wriggle in an effort to change direction and put himself over the River Lea. The jet-pack stopped spluttering and fell silent, whilst Amos simply fell. As he descended he knew the weight of the cylinders would, should he reach the river, drag him under. He unbuckled the leather straps as the river approached him at a startling rate and pushed the jet-pack away from him before curling himself up as small as he could.
Moments before he hit the water, Amos smiled inwardly at the faces of the crew of a small steamer that was chugging along the river and hoped he would be alive to offer some kind of explanation.
The steamer had come to a stop and had launched a small dinghy to look for the man who had come crashing down from the heavens. They found him almost immediately, spluttering obscenities and swearing he would never fly again, and dragged him aboard. Amos sat on the deck, gratefully accepting the offered flask of rum, and looked back towards the pumping station. He estimated he had covered a mile in under thirty seconds before the fuel had run out. It would take his pursuers a good while to get to this side of the gas works, by which time the steamer would be long gone. Amos looked back towards the site of the old pumping station which was far from disused and considered what the woman had told him. Taking a good swig from the flask he considered his next move.
Chapter Eighteen
It was late morning when Kate and Jacob finally arrived at the morgue. There were a few raised eyebrows at both their dishevelled appearance and when Jacob introduced Kate as his assistant, but they were let through into the main building and downstairs into the cellar. As they walked into the main room the cold bit into Kate ears and she shuddered at the change of temperature. She could see her breath against the dark slate floor. She looked up and the room was exactly how she had imagined it. The dark floor contrasting with the house brick style glossy white and grey tiles on the walls. Two Gothic arch windows high on the far wall appeared to be for observation and a set of double doors to their right, the entrance to the viewing room. Underneath the windows stood a larger version of the pressurised air condenser Kate had seen in Jacob’s study. On the left wall, a long sink with three copper taps, the middle one of which was slowly dripping water into the sink. In the middle of the floor were four slabs made of marble and the same kind of tiles that were on the walls. The two slabs nearest the viewing windows were occupied
Jacob pulled a small, wooden table between the two occupied slabs and placed the leather case he had recovered from the grass verge next to Westminster Abbey onto it, next to a small, wooden box. He opened a wooden locker and replaced his coat and jacket with a leather and rubber apron. He walked to the first slab and pulled down a large gas lamp on an extendable hose from the ceiling and turned the flame on full. He opened the leather case from which he took his close quarter examination goggles. He placed them over his head and tightened the elastic.
He then opened a wooden box. Kate saw what she thought was the base of a sewing machine with a black cylinder running lengthways along the top. Jacob placed the machine on the table before opening a sturdy cardboard tube and carefully sliding out another tube, placing it on the black cylinder of the machine. Kate suddenly realised she was looking at a phonograph machine as Jacob attached a copper pipe protruding from the base of the slab to a lever on the machine and tightened the elongated nut.
“I’m ready to start,” said Jacob, “If you want to get any closer I would advise you to put on one of those aprons,” he gestured to the wooden lockers and switched the phonograph on. There was a gentle hiss of steam as the wax cylinder spun round. Jacob pulled a brass cone on the end of a long rubber tube down from the ceiling until it was level with his face and started dictating his actions as he made the first incision into the dead man.
Kate had indeed seen two post-mortems before and had marvelled at the skill of the pathologist performing the procedures. While Kate had been under no illusions as to what she was about to see, she had forgotten about the smell. She suddenly remembered the advice Dan had once given her. Take a packet of mints. The advice had been good, the taste of the mint taking her mind off the stench of the opened body. She walked to the lockers on the right of the room and noticed another wooden table with two sets of clothes laid out on it.
Kate straightened out the dress the governess had been wearing, blood covered the front down to the waist and the left sleeve. Kate picked up the jacket the man had been wearing. It was still wet, unable to dry in the freezing conditions. She checked the pockets. Nothing, but one of the outer pockets had a small hole. Kate lifted it up by its collar and felt along the bottom of the jacket. She felt something, small and flat. Kate worked it along to the pocket with the hole, tearing the hole so she could get inside the lining. It was a coin.
Kate rubbed some of the dirt off and looked closely at the back. Unmistakably a woman’s cameo. The words around the edge read ‘GRATIA REGINA ELIZABET’ The rest of the words were missing because a piece of the coin had been cut off. She turned it around to see a rose, thistle, leek and shamrock, the words ’FID DEF’ and the top half of the word ‘SIXPENCE’ just above where the coin had had a slice sheared off.
Most notably was the date. 1954.
Kate’s mind flashed back to the cells at Limehouse Police Station and David’s words. “My lucky half sixpence.”
Kate glanced at Jacob, making sure he wasn’t looking, before stuffing the coin down the side of one of her boots. She was about to put the jacket back on the table when she noticed something else, the smell. At first, she wasn’t sure if it was the post-mortem or if her nose was playing a trick on her. She held the jacket close to her face. Coconut, she could definitely smell coconut. Kate picked up the shirt and then the trousers, again coconut. Her senses were not deceiving her. First, the man who had attacked her at Lord Ashbury’s house and now here at the post-mortem. She placed the clothing back on the table and looked at the rest of the items that were laid out. She picked up an ornate pocket watch and studied it. It looked expensive and out of place next to the clothing. On the back was an inscription. ‘To my dearest Jacob on our wedding day. All my love. Alice.’
Kate’s stomach lurched and turned to show Jacob the watch but the overpowering stench of the opened bodies made her stomach heave. She looked towards the observation windows and decided to watch the rest of the procedure from the relative safety of the viewing room.
Jacob examined the marks on the face and neck before opening the body with his scalpel. This wasn’t the first autopsy he had performed, far from it, but he had never got used to the smell. He looked around to see what Kate was doing and saw her examining the deceased’s clothes. He took his opportunity quickly. Removing a small bottle of clear liquid from the case that housed his examination goggles, he poured a couple of drops onto a strip of red litmus paper. He then wiped the strip across the dead man’s fingers. The paper turned pale blue. He looked again at Kate who was disappearing through the double doors that led to the observation room before placing the paper and bottle back in the case.
Kate watched through the arched window as Jacob finished the post-mortem on the man. She could hear his commentary through a large brass horn fixed to the wall. There was no doubt the cause of death was by strangulation. Jacob was also in no doubt that this was not caused by a wire or hands, but by a cloth. The man had been garrotted. Jacob mentioned the marks on the man’s face. Three distinct scratch marks on his left cheek.
Jacob pushed the lever of the phonograph down with his elbow and Kate could see the spin of the wax cylinder slow down. Jacob was taking his gloves off when the entrance door to the roo
m opened. It was the same man Kate had seen the first morning she had woken up in this distorted version of London, the man who had been arguing with Jacob. Kate could still hear his voice as she followed the stairs back down into the examination room
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Who gave you permission to touch those bodies?” his cheeks, red from the cold, turning a vivid purple.
“If you recall you came to my house yesterday and asked me,” Jacob replied calmly. “I figured I may as well do the second one while I was here. I’ll make sure the full report is on your desk first thing in the morning. Now, as the job is only half done, do you want me to continue or leave?”
Riordan walked between the two occupied slabs, his cane tapping on the slate floor.
“Jacob, I’ve just come from a meeting with the Commissioner and the Home Secretary. They are demanding answers not only about these bodies but the riots in Westminster this morning and I have little to give them. I need to know you are working with me on this.”
“What happened this morning Riordan? Why did the steamworms fire, not only on the crowd but also on their own?”
“You would need to ask Lord Ashbury that question,” said Riordan through gritted teeth, “his Automaton Bill has relinquished control of them to central Government. The Commissioner no longer has a say in regard to their deployment.”
Jacob suddenly realised how much pressure the Commissioner and Home Secretary must be putting his brother-in-law under. “I’ll help you,” said Jacob after a short pause, “but I need you to keep me informed of any changes in this investigation.”
Riordan gave a curt nod in agreement.
“Have you told him about the key?”
Both men looked around and stared at Kate who had entered the room unnoticed.
“Key? What key? Jacob, who is this woman?”
“This is Miss Kate Lockwood,” said Jacob, “We went back to Lord Ashbury’s residence to re-examine the scene. While we were there Miss Lockwood found a key in the shrubbery outside the study which your men had missed. It didn’t belong to the house and we believe it was used to gain access by the men responsible.”
“I’m aware that you went back,” said Riordan, “Lord Ashbury has since contacted me to demand the dismissal of the officer present. Where is the key now? And why do you believe it was used by the men responsible for the death of the governess?” Riordan’s calm reply took Jacob by surprise.
“The key is at my house. I shall have it sent to you immediately on my return there,” said Jacob.
“The glass was on the outside,” both men again turned their attention back to Kate.
“Everybody is assuming the window was broken in order to take the key from the inside lock. I believe that’s what they wanted everyone to think. But if that was the case when the window was broken the glass would have fallen inside the room. The glass was outside, on the step and the gravel. I think the window was broken as they left. During their getaway, the key was dropped and fell into the shrubbery. Only the body and room were looked at, the garden was ignored. Lord Ashbury said the key we found does not belong to the house, there is only one key and he showed it to us. As for the man who returned, he must have known that an officer would be here. They had Lord Ashbury’s son, so why did they return? He must have come back for something else and, knowing the police were here, he must have had a desperate reason for doing so.”
“Perhaps he was trying to deliver a ransom note,” offered Jacob.
“No,” said Kate, “that would be far too risky. Anyway, that poor child was already dead by the time we got there.”
Riordan slowly nodded, “A very interesting theory,” he said looking in admiration at Kate. “We will need to speak to the staff again and re-examine the scene, but I do not believe there was a ransom note.”
Kate and Jacob looked at Riordan expectantly.
“The body of Lord Ashbury’s son was found yesterday evening,” said Riordan. “As you know, Lord Ashbury refused permission for a post-mortem, but the officer who found the body is a veteran of several campaigns in India. He’s seen more than one dead body and stated that rigor mortis had set in. As far as I’m aware neither ransom note was received, nor ransom paid,” said Riordan.
“And he was in the House of Commons this morning ushering in The Automaton Bill,” said Jacob. “The cold bastard.” Jacob quickly looked at Kate. “Miss Lockwood, my apologies. Please excuse me.”
“That’s okay, I’ve heard worse.”
Riordan looked down at the man’s body, “Jacob is this one of the men involved?”
“I believe so yes,” Jacob walked to the other side of the slab. “The measurements of the scratch marks on his left cheek matches perfectly with the measurements I took of the governess’s hand.”
Jacob pushed the man’s head to one side.
“Following my examination, I can tell you this. This man was garrotted. There’s an abrasion of the skin caused by the ligature. You can see the mark here. It runs directly over the hyoid bone and the thyroid cartilage and completely encircles the neck. Also, on the front and side, you can see scratch marks, probably the deceased trying to get his fingers in the way. There are extensive sub-conjunctival haemorrhages probably caused by raised venous pressure. There is also laceration in the deeper tissues of the neck. Also, the face is cyanosed and swollen. The eyes are bulging, the tongue protrudes and has been bitten. There is a petechial haemorrhage in the lining of the eyes. The larynx has also been fractured. There is no doubt this man has been garrotted.”
Kate waited for several seconds before deciding she didn’t care how stupid she looked, “I’m sorry but I’m not a doctor. What have you just described?” Riordan looked almost relieved.
“When a person is garrotted,” said Jacob, “the mark goes all the way around the neck,” his fingers traced the bruises, “The scratch marks are self-explanatory, what would you do if someone were trying to choke you? His face is blue and swollen and a rise in venous pressure has caused broken blood vessels in the eyes.”
The sound of Kate coughing made Jacob look up.
“The central venous pressure,” Jacob explained, “reflects the amount of blood returning to the heart and the ability of the heart to pump the blood into the arterial system.” He looked at his brother-in-law, “I can tell you one other thing Edward, this was done with a soft material. The bruising isn’t consistent with any kind of rope and if a wire was used it would have sliced the skin open.”Jacob took a pair of tweezers and picked up a minute fibre from a metal dish. “I found this under the middle fingernail of his right hand. It’s a piece of red silk, I suspect from the item the murderer used, probably a large neckerchief or something similar.”
The double doors opened and a trolley was wheeled in, the man lying on top looking as though he was only asleep.
“This is the other reason we are here, Jacob.” said Riordan walking to the trolley. “This man was pulled out of the West India Docks a short time ago. Two bodies in one day, both found in Docklands waters only a few hundred yards apart. It appears he has drowned but obviously a full post-mortem has to be done,” Riordan aimed the last remark squarely at Jacob.
“Yes, I’ll do the autopsy and I’ll have the paperwork on your desk first thing in the morning.”
Riordan nodded his thanks as he became aware of Kate standing next to him looking at the body.
“I really don’t think this is any place for a young woman to be. Why don’t you…”
“This is the man who attacked me last night.”
“Are you sure?” asked Jacob, “It was dark and the fog had closed in.”
Kate leaned forward to get a good look at the man, “There was enough light from the room and I was only inches from his face. It’s definitely him.”
It was only because of her proximity to the body that Kate noticed the smell. Again, a definite smell of coconut. Before she had the chance to speak, Riordan was instructing an officer to take photo
graphs of the two dead men and then ordered everyone from the room so Jacob could complete the three post-mortems. Kate went back into the viewing room and watched, going back into the morgue when Jacob had completed the procedures and was washing his hands.
“I’ll tell you this much,” said Jacob, “he drowned, but that’s only part of the story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at the bruising. Pressure has been applied to both sides of the neck directly onto the carotid sinus body which can result in neurogenic cardiac arrest. If you apply the correct amount of pressure, about eleven pounds here and here,” Jacob pointed to both sides of the man’s neck, “for about ten seconds, you can cause unconsciousness for a short while. You increase that pressure to about thirty-three pounds and the trachea will close completely and cause brain death in four to five minutes. I think that’s what’s happened and then he’s been thrown into the water.”
“So he was alive when he was thrown in,” Kate asked.
“Alive, but with no chance of recovery. It would take a remarkable amount of training to become that efficient,” said Jacob as he fastened the leather strap to his goggle case.
“You mean military training.”
“Not really. That’s not the kind of method they teach your average soldier. No, people who get taught this probably aren’t able to carry weapons, at least nothing obvious.”
“A spy?”
“Some kind of military intelligence.”
“How come you seem to know so much about it?”
Jacob finished fastening his coat and reached for his top hat, “I suppose we had better go and get ready if we’re to be at Solomon’s on time for dinner.”
Realising she wasn’t going to get an answer, Kate changed the subject, “Have you noticed the smell of coconut?”
“Not particularly, why?”
Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1) Page 13
