Chapter Twenty-four
“Wait, you are not going in there if they’ve planted an explosive or some trap, “ Edward cried. “It might be triggered by opening it. After all, why would they shut the door to an empty room, especially pushing that Barrow-Wight death cart?”
I stopped dead. “What are we to do, then?”
“Have her back, and make her open it,” Edward said with a grim smile.
I found a servant in the hallway and sent him running to intercept the departing mortician. She returned with him and I held a whispered conference with the man. He reported that she had shown only curiosity, no reluctance, when asked to return.
“Indulge me in a favor, ma’am,” Edward said without any embarrassment, “and do me the kindness of opening that inner door, please?”
Jessica Fagin looked at all three of us. The doctor’s and Edward’s open, placid countenances told her nothing. She stared at me quite a long time and had apparently settled in her mind that I was the mad one who was to be indulged. She crossed the room and thrust open the door.
“And step inside, if you will, please, and take a walk around,” Doctor Mac continued. She complied, taking two or three turns around the room and finally spreading out her arms in the center of the room.
“Thanks,” Edward said. “That’s all.”
She inclined her head to us as she passed out of the suite once more.
“The other possibility is that she or her attendants have carried something away,” I muttered.
Half an hour later, Zambo and two of his security team had all but dismantled the bronze cart and searched the black-clad attendants and their mistress thoroughly enough to satisfy anyone. Jessica Fagin balked when they requested that she unwrap the body of Charley Bates.
“I have said I do not expose the bodies given into my care,” she exclaimed, showing emotion for the first time. “Undo the wrappings I will not. And if you insist on undoing them yourself, take back this body and I will have no more to do with this matter. Bury him yourself. I have had patience beyond patience with your absurdities, but the body I will protect.”
“Very well,” Edward conceded. “We apologize, madam, and beg you to excuse our eccentricities. We give our friend into your capable hands.”
“You should have insisted,” Zambo growled when Jessica Fagin had departed. “What if they have stolen something and concealed it with the body, beneath the wrappings?”
“I am almost certain that they have,” Edward replied.
“What?” I exploded. I had begun to think myself a paranoid fool. “She was indeed sent to deceive us, then?”
“Not her.” Edward shook his head. “She is an Israelite indeed in whom there is no guile. No, I believe her men are the deceivers, taking advantage of their mistress’ position and her peculiar care for her departed charges. They surely took something from the room and hid it where she would protect it for them. But we will have to work from empty spaces to reconstruct what it was.”
We trooped back up to the room Charley Bates had occupied. “We mustn’t touch anything,” Edward admonished. “Stand here in the doorway and look at everything. What empty space do you see where something once was?”
I had been so disordered by Bates’ final seizure I was certain I would be useless in this quest to find Reverend Ferrars’ “empty spaces”. I stood there stupid and blank, but I knew that I was the one most recently in the room aside from Doctor Mac and Madame Phoebe.
“We must have our lady leader down here,” I said.
“You’re right,” Mac agreed. “She and I were in here alone after the rest of you went out. She was going around setting things to rights, just as she always does, after Charley was gone.”
Phoebe joined us, her dull sadness chased away by the interesting tale of Jessica Fagin and the possibilities we had brought up. She stood in the doorway and glanced around at everything.
“Charley’s rabbit’s foot,” she said abruptly, walking swiftly over to the bedside table. “Remember, Mac, Florizel got his flight suit and you and Rose had to outfit him with something to wear for his ‘interrogation’. The only thing of his own that he still possessed was a rabbit’s foot dyed red, which I noticed hanging round his neck when you brought him here. He seemed to want it very badly when we changed his clothing and I have made certain to keep it by him.”
“Charley had that red rabbit’s foot back when we were with Fagin,” Oliver nodded when we asked him about it. “He said as long as he had it he’d never get caught. It was one of the only two things in my awful life that ever made me laugh. One was Fagin pretending to be an oblivious old gentleman while giving us pocket-picking practice, and Charley’s belief in that rabbit’s foot. Why would anybody steal that old thing?”
“I fear we are going to have to invade Jessica Fagin’s sanctuary for the dead and find out,” I muttered.
The members of the company arrived at the Fagin Final Rest Mortuary that evening for the visitation, even Twist, though he could scarcely hobble. We could not dissuade him, and had to concede that of all of us he had the closest ties to Charley Bates. Part of the security team and the company spouses came with us as well. The room into which Jessica Fagin ushered us was beautifully appointed. The walls were patterned like glittering silver and black marble, with slender pillars spaced along the sides. Niches held blue flames behind ornate silver gratings cast in the shape of openwork doves.
Black benches cushioned with blue velvet, very like church pews, were arranged facing a black velvet curtain fringed with silvery tassels. We took seats at the direction of the same two assistants who had accompanied Jessica Fagin to get the body. At least, to my eyes they appeared the same. Fagin appeared from behind the curtain a moment later and the men faded off to the sides.
“Welcome,” Fagin said. “This place is for you. Grieve, celebrate, pray, praise -- The official time when others may come has been published widely in newspapers, by wireless, and by posted bills. After the time of the public visitation has expired my attendants and I will leave. We will set the doors to lock automatically and unlock from the inside only, so that you may remain protected here or leave at any time you wish. Stay through the night if you desire to keep vigil.
“You will not be disturbed or interrupted before dawn, as the locks will be timed to deny outside entry. In the morning, my attendants and I will return to lay your friend to rest.” Fagin herded her attendants toward the back of the room. Two hours had been advertised for the visitation this evening. The curtain at the front opened of its own accord and we saw the barrow carrier behind it, curtains drawn to the back, fully exposing the fragrant, wrapped body of Charley Bates resting on it.
To our surprise, people began to arrive. Charley Bates had evidently been a popular fellow in London, but the class of people who began to trickle in paid no compliment to his own character or the company he kept. We of the Legacy Company immediately went on guard as these filthy, shuffling, shifty-eyed mourners filed in and passed by Bates’ body before finding seats. We managed to spread ourselves out among them and kept a careful watch.
Madame Phoebe stepped to the lacquered black podium and began to sing as more people entered the auditorium. Her glorious voice poured out prayer and praise and we saw wonder, discomfort, all manner of emotions, flicker across the faces of the newer arrivals.
We of the company had to force ourselves to remember that we were in this place, after all, for more than just the solution to a mystery. it was not so difficult, however, hearing this angelic voice reminding us that God controlled what seemed like madness and mayhem to our weak human vision. To their credit, this rabble quieted their whispers and cackles and snorts upon entering. Reverend Ferrars pointedly greeted and shook the hand of every stranger in that strange assembly, producing much more discomfort. After a half-hour the stream of mourners seemed to stop.
“We welcome you all here,” Madame Phoebe said. “This is not a church, but we who believe in Christ have br
ought Him here in our hearts. Do not harden your own hearts, but let Him do a work here tonight.” She seated herself. Edward approached the podium and set his Bible upon it. When he adjusted his half-glasses into place and opened the Book before him, some even bowed their heads as he began to pray.
“Gracious Heavenly Father,” he said in a clear, carrying voice, “You brought Charley Bates to us, though he thought he came of his own will, to do his own will. Instead he found Christ. You have now brought these others, people who thought they came of their own will, for their own reasons. May we see these find Christ as well. You have not taken Charley from us, but merely brought him home to yourself. In Christ’s name we have come, and in His Name we say Amen.
“The book of Job always comes to mind when I think of funerals,” Edward said, looking up and beaming innocently around on that very mixed multitude. “Think of the horrible incidents where Satan attacked Job. Think of all that he lost and all that he suffered. But remember that God said to Satan, ‘Spare his life’.
“And God did protect Job’s life. Not that it mattered to Job about his physical life. His wife nagged him to ‘Curse God, and die’, but Job said, ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust him’. We who take every precaution to protect, nourish, and cherish our physical bodies and lives cannot comprehend this. ‘Though this body be destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God,’ Job assured us.
“In the New Testament, Christ says, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest thou this?’ He said this on his way to the tomb of a dead man. Do you know what He meant?
“Stop thinking you must serve a wicked master because only he will feed you, shelter you, protect you. Let God free you from domination. Charley Bates fell into our company from a great height and no doubt thought his life was over. Understand that you must lose your life to save it, by falling into the everlasting arms of God. Those arms are always underneath us, and they will catch us.”
Edward looked around. I put my arm around Kera because she began to tremble beside me. Madame Phoebe laid a comforting hand on Oliver Twist as he began to weep, overcome by his memories, his pain, and perhaps truly at the thought of Charley Bates having been so briefly his brother in Christ.
Madame Phoebe led us in several more songs, this time all of us singing, or trying, to sing along. Edward began a time of prayer and many of the Legacy Company joined in to speak aloud with God. I made a note to gently teach my little vessel not to be afraid to be in the presence of our God.
It had occurred to all of us that these people had been ordered to come here for some reason. We remembered the clerks and beggars at the port and thought they might seek to get possession of what we sought, or to give cover to others doing so. When the service ended some of us ranged about Charley’s body. Others guarded Madame Phoebe, Edward, Doctor Twist, or the spouses, thinking an attack might be coming. But a large portion of the crowd of strangers simply made a beeline for the door. We breathed a small sigh to see so many just departing.
“Princey! Told you I was comin’ fer you.” I whirled to see a pale man towering over me. Spring-heeled Jack had apparently not got his seven-league boots repaired as yet, but had made an appearance as a more or less ordinary citizen, still a good foot taller than I. My hand went to my pistol. The man threw up his hands and shook his head.
“Me, I fell a long way, too, preacher-man, an’ Princey here saw, didn’t you? What I come here for ain’t what I’m gonna do, though,” he said, casting a glance at Edward and shaking his head as if he had witnessed a prophet speaking his future. “Nor none of these others.” He raised his voice and looked round at the milling, irresolute visitors. “Some you saw already get out peaceful. The rest of you, make your peace with God and these folk or shift. Me, I’m all done fallin’ with nothin’ t’ catch me. I’m ready to hear more about them everlastin’ arms.”
More of the mourners vanished. We were able to lead Spring-heeled Jack and three others to Christ, however. Fun See and Annabelle dealt with a weeping Chinese girl wearing a vest holding at least ten knives beneath her tattered black robe. I made shift to translate into French for Edward to a white-bearded man whose face was crazed with leathery lines and faded tattoos. Kera even assisted Mowgli and Abdalla to give the gospel to a middle-aged Indian man who spoke in a dialect none of them really knew. But God seemed to give the fellow ears to hear and all of these hearts to believe.
“Be in touch,” Spring-heeled Jack said curtly as the four of them moved to go.
“Should you not come with us?” I asked. “Can there be safety for you once Dodge knows that you will no longer serve him?
“Nah. Got stuff to do. We’ll be all right, and if not, there’s them everlastin’ arms, right? And, yeah, about Dodge…” The man hesitated and looked at his companions, then directly at Oliver Twist. “‘There’s more than him what you need to watch out for. I ain’t sayin’ he ain’t a bad-’un. But -- When you find that thing you’re lookin’ for here, don’t read more into it than what’s true.”
It was difficult enough to comprehend the patter and cant of these underworld denizens, but this man was purely speaking in riddles. “Explain,” I demanded.
“A dodge,” Spring-heeled Jack said. “Remember, it’s a dodge.” He turned and herded the others out.
Jessica Fagin had stood with her men in the back of the room through all this, unmoved. When the sound of a distant chime announced that the visitation time had come to a close, she motioned to her pair of attendants and they departed. The clockwork locking mechanism clicked into place.
We approached the wrapped form at the front of the room. The work of separating the intricately-woven layers of linen and spices was slow, since we wanted to leave as little evidence of our desecration as possible. We were not so superstitious as to believe Charley or God would begrudge us what must be an important clue.
We only prayed that the attendants had not already removed the prize we sought. The rabbit’s foot had been placed in Bates’ mouth, which had been filled with spices packed in tightly over it. Everyone ended up helping to catch the stuff to keep it from staining the pure white linen and exposing us to Jessica Fagin’s wrath. I at last got hold of the ring fastened to the top of the scarlet rabbit’s foot and held it up for all to see.
“There is a name engraved in the steel band around it,” Edward exclaimed, pulling out his steel spectacles again. “It’s so very small, and it’s just scratched in by hand somehow. I can’t make it out, quite, though it surely doesn’t say our departed friend’s name, does it?”
Everyone had a try at puzzling out the tiny lettering, but until we handed it over to Doctor Mac and his Spectaculars no one had any success. He sank down on a bench and stared at it, lenses ticking and clicking and switching rather madly.
“What does it say?”
“It says Jack Dawkins.”
A Dodge, a Twist and a Tobacconist Page 27
