Anarchy

by Olivier Bosman

  “I see. So I’m just one of many sponsors, am I?”

  “You’re my second sponsor since I came to London. Marcel was my first. I was destitute when I came here. I met him in one of the Soho pubs. But he wasn’t attractive like you are. He was tall and skinny, with one of those horrible little moustaches that curl up at the tips. But he took a shine to me and… Well, we all have to do what we have to do to eat, don’t we?”

  “Why is he sending you money?”

  Enoch shrugged. “He wanted to help me, I suppose. He’s a merchant. He lives in France but comes to England regularly. I suppose he wants to keep me as his companion next time he comes over to London.”

  “How did he know to send the telegram here?”

  “I forwarded the address to him. He told me when he was in London that he’d send me some money as soon as he got back to France. I didn’t think he actually would, but I sent him the address just in case. And it’s a good job I did, isn’t it? Or I wouldn’t have the money now.”

  Billings’ face tightened. He didn’t know what to make of all this. Did Enoch think he was being righteous and honest by telling him this? To Billings there was something offensive about the flippant and unabashed manner with which he confessed his sordid dealings with the Frenchman.

  “Sounds to me like Marcel is more of a client than a sponsor.” Billings knew that that comment was below the belt, but he couldn’t help himself.

  But Enoch was unaffected by the insult and smiled. “I suppose you think I’m little more than a renter?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Perhaps I was with Marcel. But I’m not with you. I never accepted more than a few pennies from you for the omnibus. And I’ll pay you back now that I have money. I meant it when I said I wanted to get a job and move into an apartment with you. Not just as a friend, but as a lover.”

  Billings turned towards the door. “Keep your voice down,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

  Enoch smiled. “Lover is not a dirty word,” he whispered.

  “I don’t care about your private life, Enoch. I promised I’d help you find your feet, and that’s what I’ll do. But let’s not pretend that I’m anything more to you than a sponsor. Or you to me than a protégé.”

  Enoch looked disappointed. “I thought I was.”

  “Well, you’re not! As soon as you have your money, you can move out!” He turned his back on Enoch and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  14. Saffron Cottage

  Another day, another meeting. Flynt, Billings and Clarkson were sitting at the large oval table in the meeting room, listening to England speak.

  “The Hirsch brothers are no fools. We have questioned all four of them as much as we could, but apart from Judah Hirsch, who has confessed to shooting his brother Joseph, they have remained quiet. This means, regrettably, that we shall have to let them go. However, there is still the extradition request from France, which is being considered by the foreign secretary, so they will not be set entirely free. They will be placed under house arrest until a decision is made.”

  “What will happen to Judah Hirsch?” Billings asked.

  “He shall be tried next week. We have a written confession, so he will undoubtedly be hanged.”

  “Unless he gets extradited.”

  “He won’t be. He committed his crime in this country. He will be hanged here.“

  “And what about his wife?”

  England frowned. “What about her?”

  “Will she receive the reward money?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the culprit was her own husband.”

  “But she turned him in.”

  “Because she was instructed to do so by Mr Hirsch.”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “The difference, Mr Billings, is that we will not award money to a relative of a murderer. I mean, what kind of precedent would that set?”

  “So she will have lost everything?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Then what is to become of her?”

  England banged his fist on the table. “What the devil do I care what becomes of her! It is not my problem, Billings. Nor is it yours!”

  Billings was about to argue but changed his mind. He could see that it was futile.

  England continued with his briefing. “Now, what I really wanted to discuss with you is the conditions under which the remaining three brothers will be set free. Although there is no cause to send them to prison, as we are unable to prove that they have committed a crime in this country, they are still wanted by the French government and are still considered to be a threat in England. Therefore, we have taken the unusual step of putting them under house arrest until the foreign secretary decides whether or not to extradite them back to France. They will be housed in a place called Saffron Cottage, in the county borough of Croydon, and will be placed under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

  “Who will be carrying out the surveillance?” Flynt asked.

  England took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If the three of you would please refrain from any further interruptions, Mr Flynt, I will tell you!”

  Flynt blushed and cast his eyes to the ground.

  “The cooperation between Special Branch and the three of you has not run smoothly.” England put his glasses back on his face. “Two of the Hirsch brothers have died under our very noses, and we have not been able to extract any confessions from the brothers we detained. However, Special Branch is still understaffed, and despite our setbacks, we have had some successes. Largely due to Detective Sergeant Billings, who is principally responsible for securing a confession from Judah Hirsch.”

  Billings couldn’t resist taking a sideways glance at Flynt. Flynt’s face tightened and he shuffled in his chair.

  “I would like to propose that you three carry out the surveillance. You shall take turns staying in Saffron Cottage and keep a close eye on the brothers’ movements. The Hirsch brothers will not be held prisoner in the cottage, but their movements will be restricted. There will be strict rules in place. Should the brothers not adhere to these rules, an alternative residence will be found for them. By that, of course, I mean a prison cell. Do you have any questions?”

  Saffron Cottage lay in the centre of Croydon, on a small road that ran parallel to the high street. Once a free-standing rural home for farm hands, it was now completely hemmed in by the large multi-storey edifices that had been erected in the last few decades following the opening of the London and Croydon Railway. It had three bedrooms upstairs and a further servant’s room on the ground floor. It was small and sparsely decorated, but it was still considerably more comfortable than the tenement buildings the Hirsch brothers had become accustomed to in Bethnal Green.

  Billings and the three Hirsch brothers were gathered in the living room. They were quietly looking at their new surroundings. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece exacerbated the awkward silence in which they sat.

  “It’s cosy,” Ruben said. “Better than a prison.”

  “But it’s still a prison,” Simeon added.

  “Are we allowed to leave the house at all?” Ruben asked.

  Billings answered: “You can leave the house for one hour every day.”

  “One hour each?”

  “No. You must remain together at all times.”

  “And may we go where we please?”

  “You may take a stroll around the park or sit in the main square.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is there to prevent us from leaving the house and not coming back?”

  “You shall be escorted wherever you go by two constables.”

  “Two constables?”

  “They are standing guard outside the door right now.”

  Ruben got off the sofa and looked out the window. There were indeed two gentlemen, dressed in plain clothes, loiter
ing outside the door, talking to each other and smoking cigarettes.

  “So we are to be treated like dogs,” Simeon concluded. “Taken out for a walk once a day.”

  Billings did not respond.

  “Will we be taken out for a walk today?”

  “Not today. You have already been out today.”

  “We were outside for five minutes while we were escorted from the cell to the carriage.”

  “That is enough.”

  There was a pause in the conversation. Levi was still looking around him. He didn’t speak much. He had been very quiet in the holding cells. And in the carriage on the way to Croydon. And he was quiet now.

  “When are we going to eat?” he asked.

  “Food will be brought to us.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They had better hurry. I’m starving.”

  There was another pause. Ruben yawned. He threw his head back, closed his eyes and caressed his belly. Billings had been worried that Ruben might recognise him from the plot meeting, but that wasn’t the case. Ruben looked contented with his new abode and seemed docile. Billings didn’t foresee any problems with him.

  Simeon, on the other hand, was a different matter. He was the fiery one. The one who dared to incur his father’s wrath by talking back to him. He’d been making cynical comments all day and, unlike his brothers, was not at all happy to be held in this cottage.

  “I don’t suppose one of those constables could go and fetch me a newspaper?” he said.

  “You can get one yourself tomorrow.”

  “They don’t sell the one I want in Croydon.”

  “Which paper do you want?”

  “Arbeiter Fraynd.”

  “You’re not allowed that one.”

  “Why not?”

  “No foreign papers. We must be able to read whatever you read.”

  Simeon rolled his eyes. “You’re getting worse than the French police. I just want to know when my brother will be hanged.”

  “He will be hanged on Monday.”

  “I don’t suppose we’ll be allowed to see him before he dies.”

  “No.”

  “Will you see him?”

  “I shall be witnessing the hanging.”

  Simeon raised his eyebrows. “Well. Fun times ahead for you, then.”

  Billings did not react.

  “Can you pass on a message to him from us?”

  “No.”

  “But he’s our brother. We are the only family he still has.”

  “That’s not true. He has a wife and a child.”

  Simeon scoffed at this. “Ada is a gold digger! She sold her husband for two thousand pounds!”

  Billings was about to say that Ada would not receive the reward money but decided it was best to leave him in ignorance.

  The door opened, and one of the constables stuck his head in the room. “Here’s Detective Sergeant Clarkson, sir.”

  Clarkson waltzed into the room, wearing his overcoat and hat and carrying a letter in his hand.

  “Good evening, Billings. I’ve come to relieve you of your duties.” He stood in the centre of the room and took in his surroundings. “Well, this is cosy, ain’t it?” Then his eyes fell upon the Hirsch brothers. “Hello,” he said, nodding at them. They didn’t greet him back. “Which one of you is Simeon?”

  Simeon sat up and raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ve got a letter for you.”

  Clarkson held the letter out to him, but before Simeon was able to take it off him, Billings jumped out of his seat and snatched the letter from Clarkson’s hand.

  “I need to see that first,” he said.

  Simeon looked on indignantly as Billings opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Billings took a quick look at the letter, then scrunched it up and picked up a box of matches from the mantlepiece.

  “What are you doing?” Simeon asked.

  “This letter is written in a foreign language.” Billings lit a match, set fire to the letter and threw it in the fireplace. “All correspondence with the outside world must go through us. And it must be in English, otherwise we won’t be able to read it.” He threw the empty envelope into Simeon’s lap. “You can write to your friend and ask them to send you another letter in English.”

  15. Four Dead Anarchists

  As the clock struck eight, the gates of Newgate Prison opened and a dozen or so gentlemen filed in. The witnesses, which included Billings and Flynt, had been lingering in the prison gardens for about half an hour, so there was a great rush of excitement when the warden finally admitted them into the yard. They entered a large, irregular space, which was framed by the prison block and three large walls. There was a vegetable patch in one corner and a small graveyard in the other, but what most impressed the visitors as they entered was the gallows, which stood in the centre of the yard and cast a large shadow over the prison block.

  Billings looked at the other spectators. They were mostly judges, jury members and politicians. But there was one spectator who looked out of place. A small woman, dressed in black. While the rest of the crowd was looking with awe at the newly constructed gallows, the woman stood apart from them and stared at the ground.

  “It is time!” the warden called, and with his keys dangling on his belt, he marched towards the prison door to bring in the condemned man. The crowd followed him with their eyes. The woman also turned to look at him, and as she did so, Billings noticed that she was holding a baby in her arms. His heart leapt when he realised that the woman was Ada Hirsch.

  The prison door creaked open, revealing Judah Hirsch standing in the corridor, blinking at the sun, which shone right into his eyes. His beard was shaved off and his hair was combed. He was wearing a dark grey prison uniform with broad arrows printed on it. His ankles were shackled together, and his hands were cuffed. The warden grabbed his arm and led him to the gallows. Judah hobbled behind him, all the while staring ahead of him, showing no signs of fear or nervousness.

  Billings watched Ada as Judah clumsily ascended the ladder onto the platform. Her face was pale and tense. She was not looking at her husband. Instead she looked at the ground and began kicking at a feather that had floated towards her boot. While the hangman proceeded to place Judah over the trap door, she continued to concentrate on keeping the feather from touching the ground.

  Billings looked back at Judah. Like his wife, he was trying to block the world out. He stared into the distance as the hangman unbuttoned his collar to clear his neck and fixed a white cap on his head.

  A sudden gust of wind caused Ada’s feather to blow upwards, which forced her to raise her head. This happened just at the time when the hangman was placing the noose over Judah’s head. When Ada saw this, she winced and brusquely turned away from the gallows.

  Having prepared the convict, the hangman walked towards the lever, and everyone thought that finally the prisoner would be released from his misery. But that was not to be. A clergyman now stepped up towards the gallows and began muttering some sacred Christian invocation.

  Billings rolled his eyes. “Do they not realise Judah is Jewish?” he whispered at Flynt.

  The vicar’s inane mumblings seemed to last forever, and Billings saw Judah’s legs tremble as he waited for the clergyman to finish.

  Finally, the clergyman stepped back, and the hangman pulled the lever. The trap doors opened, and Judah fell with a terrible thud into the cavern below. Billings saw Ada wince again as the thud echoed throughout the yard. Tears sprang to her eyes. Suddenly she lifted her head and looked towards him. She recognised him immediately and stared at him with an expression of rage.

  Billings nodded at her. He tried to express pity and compassion on his face, but she did not react to this. She walked towards him.

  “I’m so sorry,” Billings said as she approached.

  “Here!” She pushed her baby on to him.

  Instinctively and without thinking, Billings took the baby from h
er. She then turned her back on him and walked away. “You take care of it now!” she said. “I can’t do it.”

  “Wait!” Billings ran after her.

  After the doctor checked Judah’s pulse and established that he was really dead, three wardens began unfastening the corpse from the noose and laying it down on a stretcher.

  Ada marched towards the prison gate and asked the warden to let her out. Billings approached her with the crying baby in his arms. “Wait!” he called.

  As the warden unlocked the gate, Ada turned to face him. “You lied to me, Detective Sergeant!”

  “I’ve been lied to myself.”

  “I betrayed him!” Finally, her face screwed and tears began rushing from her eyes. “He was all I had, and I betrayed him!” She was crying now, struggling to catch her breath between sobs.

  The warden looked on awkwardly. “Ma’am, are you going to walk out?” he prompted. “I must close the gate.”

  Still crying, she stepped over the threshold. The warden began closing the gate, but Billings blocked it with his foot. “Please take the baby back.” He reached the baby out to her, but she wouldn’t take it.

  “It’s either you or the workhouse,” she said. “I can’t look after it now.”

  “I will speak to my supervisors.” Billings pleaded with his eyes for her to take the baby back. “We may be able to arrange some money for you.”

  Ada hesitated. She stopped crying and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  The warden was getting impatient. “Ma’am, please! I must close the gate.”

  “I promise you, I will arrange some money for you,” Billings said.

  At last Ada took the crying baby from the detective’s hands and held it to her breast.

  “Where can I get in touch with you?” Billings asked as the warden began to close the gate.

  Ada looked at Billings through the iron bars and frowned. “You’re just another well-meaning do-gooder with empty promises,” she said. “I’ve had my fill of you!” Shushing and caressing the baby’s head, she turned her back on the detective and walked away.