Blood Tribute (The Lucas Gedge Thrillers Book 1) (5 page)

G
edge spent
the next two weeks familiarising himself with Spitalfields and the surrounding area, the district he intended to make his home. He was disappointed that he heard no more from Rondeau or Polly, and his mind kept drifting back to their meeting. He made a few casual enquiries about work, but was in no hurry to start employment. He had a small pot of savings accumulated from his army days, and he had deposited it at a local bank. He would be able to live on that for a few months at least. He saw Hannah every chance he got, and was feeling that he was really starting to get to know her. She had decided that she wanted to go to the zoo, and persisted with the request despite Gedge’s reservations that there might not be much to see in the winter. Today was the day of the visit.

Gedge and Hannah boarded the omnibus at Commercial Road in Whitechapel, for the trip west to the city. It was a slow journey. The route took them through Aldgate, down Leadenhall Road and Cornhill, and past the empire’s financial heart at the Bank of England and the Royal Exchange. As they turned at the Mansion House, the official home of the Lord Mayor of London, the traffic became even busier, and the bus slowed to a crawl on the stretch through Cannon Street and Ludgate Hill. Although they had been able to see its dome for some time, here the scene was dominated by the huge bulk of St Paul’s Cathedral.

Hannah was excited by the sights of the big city, which grew ever more impressive as they got closer to the centre. She chatted away quite happily, although Gedge had a feeling that they ought to be talking about more important things, about the future. He told himself to relax and take things slowly.

The bus deviated to the north onto New Oxford Street, and here the pace became funereal. At times they seemed to be completely hemmed in by other vehicles, and the pavements were heaving with pedestrians. At length, they reached a stop where they had to change buses. They did not have to wait long for the next one, and the crowds thinned as they headed north away from the shopping areas, passing the grand edifice of the British Museum.

They rode by the houses of the wealthy around Bedford Square and along Gower Street, and then the ornate portal of University College. A short passage along another very busy street—the Euston Road—and then they were skirting the eastern edge of Regent’s Park, which was edged by more impressive homes.

Finally, they were dropped by the bus near the northern corner of the park, and walked through the gates of London Zoo. Gedge paid for the tickets—a shilling each—and they started to explore. Being November, there were few visitors. Many of the animals were sheltering in the inside portions of their enclosures, staying clear of the cold breeze blowing across the park. Gedge managed to resist the urge to say, ‘I told you so’, but Hannah seemed to be enjoying herself anyway. She shrieked when one of the few visible specimens in the impressive lion house decided to let out a tremendous roar.

‘I don’t like it when it’s full of people. Half the time you can’t get to see what you want. Oh, look at that! That’s one thing they’re still doing.’ She pointed to a dirt-floored area in a clearing between some trees, where an elephant was standing beside a small platform that allowed people to mount him and take a ride around the zoo for the price of another shilling. A bored-looking mahout, in a too-tight red jacket with gold buttons, was perched atop the creature.

‘Can I, father?’ Hannah pleaded.

‘Of course. I would have thought it’s a bit chilly to ride around on top of that thing, but if that’s what you want, go ahead. Here’s the money. I’ll wait here.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, you are a fuddy-duddy!’

Gedge sat on a bench and watched as the elephant lurched away. Hannah would probably be one of his only passengers today. The few people who passed by were mostly couples—some elderly—taking a slow constitutional, and younger people he decided were using the zoo as a trysting spot. A school party wandered past, a dozen giggling little girls being marshalled by a harassed matron.

The sun had seldom appeared in the sky since Gedge’s arrival back in England, but for a brief moment the golden orb appeared through a gap in the grey cloud cover. A sudden reflection drew his eye to a man standing on an arched bridge between two animal enclosures, about twenty yards away. He was a thin man, wearing a brown coat and a fedora. He was facing Gedge with his hands raised to his face, holding something. The reflection had to be coming from a pair of binoculars, and Gedge had the distinct impression they were trained on him.

He stared. The man didn’t move.

Gedge stood up, and the man’s hands dropped to his side.

Gedge continued staring, and the man turned away, looking down over the side of the bridge.

From a standing start, Gedge set off, sprinting towards the man as fast as he could. The man looked round, grimaced, and took to his heels.

Gedge ran straight across the dirt clearing between the trees and onto the arched bridge. The man turned to the right, and Gedge swerved round the corner past a row of barred enclosures, where the eyes of various birds of prey regarded the runners with cold disdain.

The man’s path was temporarily blocked by a gaggle of schoolboys, fascinated by the creature they were perusing in another enclosure. He barged into them, pushing one boy to the floor and causing an elderly, florid-faced teacher to shout after him. Gedge navigated the gap that the man had created and slipped through.

He was only a few yards behind his quarry now. The man’s hat flew off and he snatched a glance behind at his pursuer. With satisfaction, Gedge noticed the fear on his face. But now, the man turned down a narrow concrete slope leading to what looked like an isolated arena. Surely now he had him trapped?

Gedge followed, noting the words “Penguin Pool” over the doorway at the end of the passage. As he emerged, the path split, with each half marking a separate track around an oval-shaped pool. The small, black, streamlined bodies of penguins could be seen swimming and diving in the water, the air echoing to their cries. Some stood on artificial rocky outcrops, above the water. The paths were lined with seats, and while the pool may have been a big attraction in the summer, today there were just a handful of hardy spectators.

Gedge could see the man slowing with fatigue as he ran around the curving path towards the far side, where a zookeeper with a peaked cap was ladling fish from a barrel into a bucket.

‘You might as well stop!’ called Gedge. ‘I’ll catch you soon, anyway.’

But the man had other ideas. He reached the keeper and wrenched the barrel from his grasp, tipping it over so that gallons of fish and briny water cascaded across the path in front of Gedge. The man pushed the keeper, sending him backwards into the water. Gedge slipped on several glimmering mackerel and crashed down onto the path. He looked up, just in time to see his quarry heave open a gate and stagger through it. Gedge’s heart sank when he realised that the chase had taken them back to the northern edge of the Zoo, where the main gates were just ten yards away. He scrambled to his feet and helped the keeper out of the pool, turning just in time to see the man slow to a walk as he passed through the entrance. Gedge followed, but as he reached the street, he saw the man climbing into a hansom, which immediately picked up speed and made off in a westerly direction.

G
edge retraced
his steps back to the bench, arriving just as the elephant reappeared. Hannah came haring over to him, eager to tell him all about her trip.

‘God! What’s that smell?’

‘Ah, yes. I was foolishly hoping it wasn’t that noticeable.’

‘Noticeable? It’s a pong! It’s fish, isn’t it?’

‘The wages of being a good samaritan. A barrel of fish for the penguin pool came off a cart, just over there. I helped the keepers load it back on, and slipped over in the mess.’

Hannah whooped with joy. ‘I wish I’d been here. It would have been better than the old elephant ride! Not that I didn’t enjoy it. You know mother won’t allow you back in the house like that?’

‘I’m quite sure she won’t.’

They took a wander and Gedge bought them each a mug of warming hot chocolate at a stall.

‘How’s work going at the bookbinders?’

‘Oh, I’m really enjoying it. It’s run by a lovely old man, Mr Hardisty. I’m just doing odd jobs at the moment to get used to what goes on there. But he says with a bit of experience I can take on more responsibility.’

‘Sounds like just the sort of job you were looking for.’

‘I think so. There’s a boy there, about my age, called Sean. We’re going to the Palace of Varieties together on Saturday.’

Gedge raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? Do you really know much about him? Can you trust him?’

‘Father, we’re just friends. Please don’t worry. I just want to have some fun.’

‘Listen, you know I worry a bit. Coming from a market town in the west country to the biggest city in the world. It isn’t nothing. There’s so much you need to be wary of.’

Hannah laid her hand on Gedge’s arm. ‘I know that, silly. And I do take care. How could I not know about the horrors that can happen, with everyone still going on about the Ripper? Anyway, with Mother wanting to keep me in cotton wool at home, you checking up on me, and being under Mr Hardisty’s care at work, I think I should be alright, don’t you?’

They both laughed.

After finishing their drinks, they wandered into the Reptile House. The place contained numerous circular pools, and in each a different type of reptile crawled about or, more often, remained motionless, as visitors gawped. Since the building had to be heated, there were plenty of animals to be seen, and the warmth itself drew visitors inside.

Gedge and Hannah stared down at a pool containing half a dozen dwarf crocodiles, and spent some time watching both them and the people milling around. Looking up at Hannah, Gedge saw the sparkle in her eyes, and realised that she found the city thrilling. The hustle and bustle, the swarms of people, the sheer number of things to do, if only she was allowed. He began to feel that it would be alright for her. She was a spirited girl. Maybe she was just the sort to make the most of London, to make a life for herself there.

‘I see you still wear the St Christopher,’ said Gedge.

‘Of course. Always. As you do?’

‘Yes.’ It hardly needed saying, because each of them could see the chain around the other’s throat.

‘Father, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but can’t you tell me some more about the army? It sounds so exciting.’

‘Not tired of that yet, then? Hannah, I had some bad experiences. Especially while I was in Afghanistan. Sometimes I get bad dreams because of it. And those last few years, it was secret work I was doing out there. Thought I was helping stop the Russians invade India. Later I was told they were never going to invade after all. It’s a combination of things that’s made me disillusioned with it all. That’s why I’m glad to have left that world behind.’

‘It seems a little sad to me, father. But you were happier earlier on, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, I suppose I was. I’d done well in the army, I just seemed to take naturally to it, for some reason. I could handle myself physically and I mastered all sorts of weapons. I was fighting for my country, battling the evil foreigner. That’s what I believed then. I was promoted quickly. Corporal, then sergeant. You know that when I was in the infantry I was made an officer on merit, unlike a lot of them who’d bought their commissions? That caused some unpleasantness with a few of my “brother” officers. Not that I let it worry me. I never did get on with the social side. The carousing, the whoring. I was always a quiet bugger.’

‘But they must have thought a lot of you, to have selected you specially for that secret stuff you did in Afghanistan.’

Gedge scoffed. ‘Yes, while I was useful to them. I was called on for things that others couldn’t do. Until they decided my commanding officer was a renegade. Then I was out.’

‘Those “things” they got you to do. Does that mean…’

Gedge lowered his voice almost to a whisper. ‘I killed people. Yes, Hannah. I was good at killing people. I can honestly say that none of them were innocent bystanders, refugees, women or children. They were all enemy combatants. But I’ve lost count of the people I’ve killed over the years.’

Hannah said nothing. Gedge feared the worst, immediately regretting what he’d said. He should have waited, broken it to her more gently. But she’d have to know some time.

After a few seconds, she looked at him.

‘I’m glad you’ve told me, father. It must mean you trust me.’

‘I do, of course I do.’

‘And I, you. I think I can see how you feel, about staying away from all that. But in a way, it’s a waste.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re meant for better things than doing a bit of painting and fixing someone’s privy. Not that you should go back to killing people, but you seem to be a man who wants to see justice done. Someone who can help people.’

‘Very profound for a sixteen-year-old girl.’

Hannah bristled. ‘I’m a young woman, not a girl, and some of us think women can think just as profound thoughts as men, given half a chance.’

‘I give in, I give in. If it’s any consolation, I may be doing some work for this chap I saw the other week. Rondeau. Although don’t get your hopes up. It probably won’t be very exciting.’

They wandered the grounds a little more, talking and laughing, before Hannah told Gedge that she was fed up with people giving them funny looks, because of the smell. They left the zoo and walked back to the bus stop.

G
edge left
Hannah at the corner of Barnet Grove and watched her all the way to the front door. At the doorstep, she turned and waved, smiling.

Back at the Inn, he found a note from Polly, asking him to come over to White Lion Street that evening, if he could.

‘
G
ood afternoon
, Mr Ackerman. Your mother’s been asking after you.’

The door was opened by the orderly called McInally, dressed in the standard white coat.

‘Are you sure? That would require a lucidity she doesn’t normally possess.’

‘Oh yes, sir. But you’d better speak to Doctor Whitehead himself. He will, of course, be able to tell you of the significance, or not.’

‘Quite so.’ The pompous oaf. Ackerman knew his sort: putting on a uniform made him think he had some sort of authority, when in fact he was just a lackey. He would have a word with Whitehead about McInally; he was getting above his station. In Ackerman’s normal world, he would now be lying crumpled on the floor with broken ribs or worse. He allowed the obsequious fool to take him to his mother’s room.

‘The doctor will be along shortly, sir. He’s just finishing his rounds.’

‘Very well.’ Ackerman reflected that the “rounds” shouldn’t take long, as the private hospital only had about twenty patients.

Ackerman looked through the circular window in the door to his mother’s room. She was sitting up in bed, smiling, staring out of the window at the hospital’s garden. For a moment, he dithered. Could he just retrace his steps, claim that he’d remembered something important, and leave without actually seeing her?

A familiar voice called out from behind him, in a rich Scottish brogue.

‘Mr Ackerman! I’m glad you’re here, sir.’

‘Dr Whitehead. How are you?’

‘Very well, but before we go in… Trying not to be indelicate, but I just wanted to remind you that the fees will be due in another week, without which we cannot provide the care that your mother needs.’

‘I am well aware of that, doctor. Don’t concern yourself. I will pay the fees by the required date.’

‘Just so. I’m sure a gentleman of your obvious talents must be in a very interesting line of work? We never seem to have discussed it.’

‘On the contrary. It’s actually not very interesting at all. I suppose you could say I’m in trade: import and export. Mostly export. All very dull. Now, I’m afraid I don’t have all day. Can we please go in and see my mother?’

‘Yes, of course. Please excuse me for prattling on. Come along, then.’

Ackerman balked again at the pomposity; it seemed endemic in this place. Possibly it was in all institutions. A good reason for avoiding them whenever possible. Whitehead led the way into the room.

‘Mrs Ackerman! Hello. Look who’s here to see you. It’s your son.’

She slowly turned her head, and stared at Whitehead for a few seconds. He gestured in the direction of Ackerman, and she in turn looked at him, staring blankly. As usual, her gaunt, hollow-cheeked face betrayed no emotion. But after a few seconds her face was suddenly convulsed: by what? Fear? Anger?

‘Oh, no! He’s not my son. How could he be? He’s the bloody Ripper, him! What’ve you brought him here for? Gawd’s sake, get rid of him!’

She shrank away from Ackerman, almost falling out of the bed.

‘Mr Ackerman, you’d better leave,’ said Whitehead. ‘Wait outside for me, please. Now, Patricia, come on. Calm down, now. Orderly!’

Ackerman felt an absurd helplessness washing over him. In his normal life he was in control; he was the one sorting things out and punishing people for their indiscretions. This was the opposite. The one person he did not dare to cross, the one on whom the money he raised had to be spent, was the one who had the whip-hand over him. If only she had the wits to know it.

Anger welled up, and he decided he did not want to hear whatever Whitehead had to say. It would only be something more deflating to his ego. It would have to wait until his next visit. He strode off down the corridor.