Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1)

by Symon A Sanderson

  “The clothes belonging to both men smell strongly of it. A bit unusual don’t you think?”

  “No, not particularly. In the Isle of Dogs area, coconuts are regularly unloaded at the Millwall Docks. The husks are taken to yards and then they are made into rope or matting at a rope works and then the waste sold as a soil improver.”

  “Then that’s where we must go.”

  “The yards or the rope works?”

  “Both. It’s the most obvious line of enquiry. Unless you don’t want to.”

  Jacob wanted nothing more than to find out why the American Secret Service believed the two men he had just performed autopsies on were connected to his wife’s murder, but he knew Riordan would be furious with any interference, “Why don’t we just tell Edward and have his constables do the enquiries?” he said, hoping Kate had an answer.

  “People will do one of two things when they know they are talking to a cop,” she said. “Babble incoherently or stay silent. If we do the enquiries we stand a much better chance of finding something out, especially if we have photographs of the deceased.”

  Jacob took the hint, “Very well. We’ll take a cab to the police station. I’m sure I can get copies of the photographs. Then we’ll visit the yards. We should be at Solomon’s in plenty of time."

  “I found this with the first man’s clothing,” Kate said as she handed the pocket watch to Jacob. It was obvious he recognised it without having to look at the inscription. He turned the watch over and his shoulders slumped. Kate watched Jacob swallow hard as though he were choking back tears. His fist tightened around the watch and Kate felt as though she were intruding on a very private grief.

  “Are you alright?” she said at last.

  “Yes,” said Jacob in a voice that suggested he was anything other than alright.

  “I also found this,” said Kate, blurting the words out in an effort to distract him. She showed Jacob the coin, “It had fallen through a hole in his pocket and was at the bottom of the lining.”

  “A sixpence, or, at least, most of one,” said Jacob looking at the incomplete coin and putting the watch in his trouser pocket.

  “Notice anything unusual about it?”

  A puzzled look spread across Jacob’s face as he examined the coin closely, “This is clearly a British coin, but 1954? And who’s Elizabeth?”

  “I’ll explain on the way to the police station.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The journey to the police station on Commercial Road had been a short one, but it gave Kate the time to explain to Jacob who the woman on the back of the coin was. Jacob knew he couldn’t explain it away as a forgery, even a bad one, and the possibility that it was a joke seemed unlikely. He compared it with a sixpence from his own pocket and even though the design was different he was sure it was real. There was no doubt Kate Lockwood was real. But photographs on a phone. A woman in the Metropolitan Police Force. Money made over seventy years in the future. None of it could possibly be real and yet he had seen it all with his own eyes.

  Kate had only been waiting a few minutes before Jacob walked out of the police station and sat next to her in the hansom. He passed her two photographs which she studied, surprised at the clarity of the prints. Kate had thought about taking the photos on her phone when they were in the morgue but decided she didn’t want to attract more attention than was necessary. Besides, the battery was low and she wasn’t sure when she would really need to use it again.

  Jacob told Kate that there was a large rope works on the Isle of Dogs with several yards in the surrounding streets that stored coconuts until they were needed. They set off to investigate and drove around the Docklands where they were met with suspicion or indifference at every turn. Kate watched from the window of the cab as each turn seemed to produce a street that was narrower, filthier and more ramshackle than the last. After they had visited the third yard Kate stopped at the door of the cab and looked down the long, curving cobbled street on which the yard was situated. Terraced housing, filthy with soot, lined both sides of the street. Children, as filthy as the buildings, played in the street; the girls in pinafores, the boys in boots, if they were lucky, and flat caps. An old woman crouched on a doorstep holding a china cup.

  “You can see why the Levellers come to places like this to recruit,” said Jacob, suddenly bringing Kate out of her reverie. “I think we should finish for the day. We can continue looking tomorrow.”

  “No,” said Kate shaking her head, “there’s only one more yard to visit.”

  Jacob followed her stare, “What did you think a slum looked like?” he asked with no trace of enmity in his voice.

  “I’ve seen poverty before,” said Kate, “but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Jacob looked down the street again as he opened the door of the cab. He noticed a man walking towards them. Jacob realised the same man had been at the previous two yards and was undoubtedly following them. He turned to confront him when the man pulled out a revolver and fired. Kate Was about to step into the cab when she heard two dull thuds on the door frame. She lurched forward with a yelp of protest as Jacob pushed her into the rear of the cab. Hearing Jacob give the driver instructions to go back to St. Giles Square, Kate shouted for the driver to stop and kicked the kerbside door open. She was about to jump out when Jacob appeared from underneath the vehicle.

  “What are you doing?” he said as the driver looked down for further instructions, “Someone is shooting at us.”

  “Then get in.”

  A third shot, this time much louder, shattered the window behind Kate and set the upholstery on fire.

  “An incendiary shell,” shouted Jacob. “This way.”

  Jacob seized Kate by the shoulders and dragged her from the cab. Kate somehow landed on her feet just in time to hear the crack of the drivers whip as the burning cab started to move away. Jacob spun round looking for cover and saw their only option, an archway just big enough to get a small coach through. Jacob grabbed hold of Kate’s wrist and shouted, “Through here.” As they ran through Kate looked along the street to see a man in a black greatcoat walking towards them take aim with a handgun. Before Kate could shout a warning she skidded on the greasy, flattened cobbles and crashed to the ground as another bullet pinged off the archway’s brickwork.

  Kate looked around. They had entered a courtyard badly illuminated by a single gas streetlight right in the middle. The only way out was the way they had come in.

  “There’s no way out, we’re trapped.”

  “There,” said Jacob pointing at an open door in the corner of the courtyard, “Quickly,” Jacob dragged Kate to her feet as the sound of their would be executioner’s feet quickened.

  They had just managed to get inside when another shot shattered the window next to the door and slammed into the wall behind them. Kate looked at the wall as the embedded shell began to sizzle and turned orange.

  “It’s an incendiary shell,” said Jacob as he began to fiddle with the tip of his cane. “When they detonate they will set fire to just about anything. See if you can find anything that will put it out.”

  Kate looked around and realised they were in the rear of a pub. In the far corner a bucket sat in a sink. Bounding over Kate reached the sink to find the bucket was empty and there was no tap. She looked back at Jacob and watched as, now on one knee, he pointed his cane out of the window and twisted the handle. A loud crack was followed by the suddenly familiar ping of a ricocheting bullet.

  “Your cane is a gun?”

  “Yes and it fires incendiaries just like him, but I only have one shot left. We have to find a way out of here.”

  Kate looked round the room again. As she did she noticed a shelf lined with bottles. Grabbing the first bottle Kate looked at the yellowing label which simply read ‘Gin’.

  “I have an idea,” she said, showing Jacob the bottle.

  He smiled and nodded, “I think it could work,” he said. “He’s in the far corner behind the barre
ls. I don’t think he expected us to be armed.” Jacob looked up at Kate, “Do you think you can throw it that far?”

  “Even if I can’t it should give us some cover.”

  “What the ‘ell’s going on?”

  Kate and Jacob turned to the source of the new voice. A fat, balding man with a filthy, greasy apron tied around his waist. Kate assumed it must be the landlord.

  “Get down you idiot, we’re being shot at,” said Jacob. A fact made clearer when another cartridge whizzed through the shattered window and thumped into the wall behind the new arrival. “If there’s anyone else in here get them out.”

  The landlord, dumbfounded, just nodded before retreating back into the pub.

  “We’ll only get one chance at this,” said Jacob as he broke the remaining glass from the windows wooden frame, “Make it a good throw, and Kate,” Jacob placed his hand on Kate’s arm, “be careful.”

  Kate grabbed the gin bottle by the neck, rested it on her shoulder and stepped behind the window. She pushed her arm forward and twisted her shoulders putting as much force into the throw as she could muster. As the bottle left her hand another shot rang out and Kate fell backwards onto the floor. Jacob dropped his cane and was next to her in an instant.

  “Kate. Kate are you alright?” said Jacob, urgently searching for blood so he could stem the tide of bleeding.

  Kate lifted her head, “I’m fine. I just slipped. He hit the window frame,” she nodded towards the cane, “Quickly.”

  Jacob pounced on his cane before looking out of the window. The man was emerging from behind the barrels and was re-loading his revolver.

  “Is that all you’ve got Jacob?” an American accent called out, “Getting a woman to throw bottles of liquor at me.”

  Jacob was stunned. Not only did his would-be killer know him but Jacob recognised the voice. But it couldn’t be.

  “Henry? Henry Collins? What are you doing?”

  “Jacob,” Kate urged.

  “The picture is a lot bigger than we led you to believe Jacob,” said Collins as he emerged from behind the barrels, the weak light barely illuminating his face.

  “Why does the ambassador want me dead?”

  “The ambassador has nothing to do with this Jacob, but he’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Jacob,” said Kate tugging at his sleeve, “you have to fire.”

  “No Jacob, it’s you and your lady friend that’s become a problem,” he slipped in the last cartridge and closed the cylinder. “You were only asked to do the test, but you had to keep digging.” Collins gently kicked the base of the broken gin bottle with the toe of his shoe, “So now I have no choice.”

  “Jacob, now.”

  The instant Kate had spoken Jacob twisted the handle of his cane. A small crack was followed by an explosion as the shell hit the alcohol covering the paving slabs and burst into flames. Jacob watched as Collins staggered back, disappearing into the thick, acrid smoke.

  “Come on,” said Jacob, “we have to get out of here.”

  They ran through the same door the landlord had come and gone through only moments earlier to find themselves in the bar area. The landlord was trying to usher out several men who were complaining they hadn’t finished their beer. Kate and Jacob by-passed them and went straight through the front door and onto the street where men with tankards full of beer and smoking clay pipes were gathered. Jacob looked around but could see no sign of Collins.

  “This way,” said Jacob pointing down the street, “it’s the quickest way to the main road. We can get a cab there.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kate and Jacob had checked behind them and around every corner on their flight from The Sandford Arms, but finally managed to get to the main road without any further incident. Jacob purposely hailed a horse drawn hansom, avoiding the steam powered version for fear of an explosion should Collins suddenly re-appear.

  “Do you know him?” asked Kate as the cab drew safely into the evening throng.

  “I trained with him before I came to England,” said Jacob.

  “What, so he’s a doctor?”

  “No. He works for the government, as an advisor.”

  “And now he’s trying to kill you,” Kate looked at Jacob. “To kill both of us,” she added almost as an afterthought. “Why? And what’s the ambassador got to do with this?”

  Jacob returned Kate’s stare, “I don’t know,” he said after a short pause. “I just don’t know.”

  As the cab pulled onto St. Giles Square Kate saw Ivy, Jacob’s maid, waiting at the front door with a concerned look on her face. The cab pulled up in front of the house and by the time Kate had opened the door Ivy had run down the rest of the steps.

  “Oh, Doctor McKinley, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  “Whatever is the matter, Ivy?” asked Jacob

  “It’s Grace sir, she’s ever so ill.”

  “Her condition has worsened?”

  “Yes sir. It’s been getting worse all afternoon. We tried your surgery and the hospitals. We thought you’d been hurt in the riot.”

  “No, we’re fine,” said Jacob. Pushing all thoughts of Collins and the rest of the day’s events, to the back of his mind Jacob ran up the steps two at a time to Grace’s room.

  “What’s wrong with Grace?” Kate asked Ivy as she handed her the woollen cape.

  “She’s as white as a sheet miss and she has a fever. She’s sweating something terrible but she’s cold to the touch.”

  Kate went back to her room and changed before going back downstairs. She was about to open the study door when she was greeted by Laura who was coming from the kitchen. “Are you alright?” Laura asked.

  “Yes I’m fine thank you, I just needed to change my clothes. How is everyone here?”

  A shadow passed across Laura’s face, “Things are not well. Poor Grace is so ill and Doctor McKinley is simply exhausted,” she placed her hand on Kate’s arm, “I’m sure if you went up he would be pleased to see you.”

  Kate nodded. She walked upstairs and knocked gently on Grace’s bedroom door. Kate heard a muffled assent and walked in. Jacob was sat on the edge of the bed as Kate came into the room.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I wanted to see how you both were, and if there was anything I could do to help.”

  Jacob looked up and Kate could see the tear marks streaking down his cheeks, his eyes red from battling back further tears. A sad smile forced its way onto Jacob’s face, “Of course I don’t mind and I only wish there was something that could be done,” he said as his eyes lost the fight and a further tear strolled down his face. Jacob looked down at the abject figure of his daughter and held her hand, “She has cholera. She has maybe three or four days at most and there’s nothing I can do,” the despair was obvious in his voice.

  “Are you sure?” said Kate, desperately hoping that something had changed.

  “I’m sure,” said Jacob, his voice becoming firmer, “I’ve treated enough cases in the last couple of years. The symptoms are quite distinctive.

  Kate’s brow furrowed as a forgotten memory needled through her mind. Cholera, Kate thought, what was it about cholera?

  “Lemons,” she exclaimed, startling Jacob.

  Lemons, what about them?”

  Kate remembered when she had first met Dan. He had gone to Hendon Police College to give new recruits a talk about lesser common diseases in London, how to spot them and more importantly, how to treat them.

  “Cholera is a bacterial infection of the small intestine, symptoms can include diarrhoea and severe dehydration,” Kate said aloud, more to herself than to Jacob, “but how is it treated? Think, come on think.”

  Jacob turned to look at Kate, surprised at this newly discovered knowledge of illness and treatment.

  Before Kate spoke again.

  “Of course, re-hydration.”

  Kate bolted through the door and went downstairs, calling for Ivy, who hearing the commotion, was wa
iting for Kate when she reached the hallway.

  “Do you have any lemons?”

  “Lemons miss? I think we have a couple in the kitchen, but whatever for?”

  “If Grace has cholera it may be her only chance. Do you know where you can get more?” said Kate

  “Some of the other houses in the square may have some and the bigger houses in Kensington certainly would.”

  “Get as many as you can as quickly as you can.”

  Ivy glanced up the stairs towards Jacob who had come down and overheard the conversation. He nodded to Ivy who ran back to the kitchen and put her shawl on as she ran out of the back door.

  “What will lemons do?” asked Jacob.

  “Cholera causes severe dehydration,” said Kate. “We have to stop that and then re-hydrate. The lemons are part of the solution, but I need a couple of other things too. Where’s the kitchen?”

  Jacob hesitated for a moment before showing Kate the way.

  Once in the kitchen Kate started to open the cupboard doors, “Where’s the salt and sugar?”

  “I…I don’t know,” admitted Jacob.

  Kate pointed to a set of pans hanging from the ceiling. “Make yourself useful and boil some water, better to be safe than sorry.”

  Jacob did as he was told with one eye on Kate. She was opening every cupboard in the kitchen until a loud exclamation announced she had found what she was looking for. Several minutes later the water began to boil and Kate carefully dipped a large mug into the pan.

  “The boiling water will sterilise the mug, killing anything nasty.”

  Kate lifted the mug out of the water half full and placed it on the side. Putting careful measurements of sugar and salt into the mug she stirred the mixture and declared she was almost ready.

  “Ready for what?” asked Jacob.

  “Ready for the lemons. Once they’re added and the mixture cools down Grace needs to drink a mugful at regular intervals, at least every half hour.”

  “What will that accomplish?”

  “It should kill off the infection and re-hydrate the body.”