The Killing Hand (5 page)

   It was incredibly late by the time that we had managed to wrestle ourselves away from Rufus and make our way from the club. Francis was clearly weary, the light in his eyes having dimmed
some hours ago. I too was tired, more so as I was still finding it hard to adjust to a normal sleeping pattern; having spent such a lengthy time at sea had done me no favours. The weariness consumed us both. We did not speak as we walked towards our houses, instead walking in a peaceful unison down the quiet, cobbled streets of London illuminated only by moonlight and gas lamp. It was peaceful being able to walk in silence under the moonlit sky, away from the bustle that imbued the streets during the day, being able to hear the gentle tapping of our feet against stone.

   When we came to Francis' home, he turned and smiled and took me in a handshake. "It was good to see you out of that house, Eric. I am glad that
your grievance has not swallowed you; although I have no doubt that you are still aching. However, I must implore you to reconsider your dealings with the Hudson group."

   "If the dealings are good enough for you, then they are good enough for me also. I can look after myself Francis. If I find it d
oes not sit right with me then I shall bow out amicably, do not worry about that."

   He smiled, although it was strained. I could tell he wished to say more. He did not want me in that group - perhaps out of fear of seeing a friend endangered or for some
other reason unbeknownst to me. To his credit, he did not argue further and instead offered me a goodnight and went inside.

   I continued home under the twilight. I only lived a few streets beyond Francis' home. As I listened to the rhythmic tap of heel a
gainst cobble, I could sense that something was not quite right. A strange feeling came over me, a sort of anxiety that slowly crept slowly before I could even place my finger on it. I lost myself in thought for some time. Had I forgotten something? Was I meant to do something?

   The answer soon came to me as I realised that mine were not the only footsteps echoing about the street. Turning to look behind I could see the silhouette of a man following the same path as mine, a sort of drunken stumble in his
step. Could it be? Was it the very same drunkard from the men's club? What was his purpose? Was he really staring at us in there? I tried to reason that it could be any gentleman walking home from a night out, however after every twist and turn I took in my journey he kept on the same route, always some distance behind.

   I decided to lose him before returning to my home, no matter how ridiculous the entire thing seemed. It was not the prospect of the man itself that scared me, but his intentions. Perhaps
he wished no harm tonight, but one hears so many stories of premeditated break-ins that you cannot help but wonder what his purposes were. I picked up pace, as did the stranger behind me – albeit still keeping his distance. I took a sharp turn down an alley and into an adjourning street. Before he had chance to follow me round, I ducked away from view behind a stone wall, shaded by night. Surely enough, he emerged from the short alley a few short moments later, wildly searching about the street for any sign of life. I remained behind the wall, concealed and holding my breath.

   The man spent several moments lingering in the street. I could hear his heavy breath in the silence of the night. My breath hitched for a second when the footsteps echoed towards me,
but with a stroke of luck they passed by. I remained behind the wall until I could hear his footsteps echo away into the night, chasing shadows in hope of catching up.

   After the echoes of heel against cobble died out, I peered over the brick wall. No s
ign of him. Was I safe? What the devil was he after?

   I got out from behind the wall, scanning the empty street. I decided I should return to my home before he returned. Maybe he was simply some sort of opportunist, possibly a mugger, but I had no intent
ion of finding out. I quickly ran back through the alley and hastily made my way home, checking every street corner as I did so for phantom attackers of the night. As luck would have it, it appeared I had managed to shake the stalker. I ran, making sure to get myself home quickly. As I shut and locked the door behind me, I found myself beginning to remember all too well the reason that I had been driven away from this city in the first place.

Having agreed to pay into The Hudson Group, I found I had no choice but to accept Gilbert's offer to join him in business. At first light the following day I made the decision to visit, prepping myself so as not be taken in by his arrogance. I walked into the building of
my
company with my head held high, marching up to Gilbert's desk and announcing that I would be formally taking my Father's position.

 
  "I must admit that I am surprised at this sudden change in heart," he responded once I had finished speaking. He was too busy etching in a contract log to even look up at me, nose down into the centre of the book, strands of greasy hair swinging from his brow. "I half expected you to just disappear once again."

 
  I held my tongue in order to avoid another bitter argument that would no doubt jeopardise my situation. "It is as you say; this company is my Fathers' legacy."

 
  Gilbert closed the book abruptly with a dull thud and placed the quill down on the table. "Speaking of legacy, I see also that you have taken to sleeping in your Father’s old home."

 
  "I do not believe this to be your concern; do you not still have your own house?"

 
  "That I do. Still, when your Father died I made every effort to preserve the business as he left it, I would appreciate it if you did not tarnish it – the same goes for his home. If you will not make proper use of it, then I will happily take ownership of it."

   "I will make use of it," I reassured, refusing to let my home into his hands too. I knew far too well that he would attempt to sell it for h
is own gain.

   Gilbert hummed and beckoned for me to join him at his desk as he pulled another leather bound book from the shelf behind him. "On the matter of business, you will be surprised to learn that despite making little effort to work when out in E
urope, the shipping contract for the Brazilian imports have still come to fruition." The ledger was full of scribbles of European port names and locations alongside various stock and prices, most of which meant nothing to me. It cumulated into a mass of numbers at the bottom of the page, the amount of which I found to be staggeringly low.

   I pointed my finger against the figure. "What is this about?"

   Gilbert huffed, not even so much as looking up at me. "What is what about?"

   "This ledger here, it says we have been operating at a loss."

   "Eric, I appreciate your eagerness to get working, but questions such as this merely burden us. This is a natural loss. We are in September and trade is always low in the winter months. Now, your desk is over there in the corner, I suggest you make yourself comfortable for it is where you will spend most of your time."

   I nodded, not enquiring further. I proceeded to my desk
– or in actual fact, Gilbert's old desk. In my absence he had seen himself fit to move himself into my Father's old position. I did not have the strength to argue about such things though, for there were bigger issues to question than our seating arrangements. I began to work in silence and for the remainder of the morning neither Gilbert nor I engaged in conversation. He remained invested in logs and records, hastily scribbling numbers and notes in the margins, as I scanned over old details to get reacquainted with the business. Many related to my business venture out in Europe – or at least, the lack of work carried out. It seemed that in my absence, my Father had managed to arrange a shipping route through Europe to enable trade from London to Brazil and Portugal. I spent the majority of my day reacquainting myself with the work, studying the previous month’s workloads and making notes on the details of the business account.

   At midday I excused myself, explaining to Gilbert that I had financial business with the bank to tend to
– not a lie within itself.

   He growl
ed. "Your first day on the job, and you cannot even complete a full shift? Very well, but I do not expect this to be a repeating occurrence."

   I held my tongue and collected my items, leaving him to the silence of his work. Despite the fact that I had or
iginally found the streets of London suffocating in itself, escaping that building I felt as if I were finally able to breathe. There was not much worse than sitting in silence, pretending to work for an entire day. Let alone a lifetime of it.

   I reached
the bank shortly after midday. Outside stood an impatient Lucius, frequently turning to check the clock face at the peak of the church across the way and grumbling to himself about my tardiness. His eyes latched onto me as I emerged from the crowd to head towards him. "This is not the only duty I am committed to today," he scolded as I neared him. "Let us get this done."

   He pushed the door of the bank open for me and I entered into a grand hall of dull design, furnished with wooden floors and tables wit
h a long desk of cashiers lined against one wall and messy bookcases stood behind them. They all seemed incredibly busy, either dealing with clients or flicking through large leather bound books – many doing both. Our footsteps echoed about the hall as we walked, joining the choir of hushed chatter and the constant scrawl or quills The entire hall was full of employees and clients who paid no attention to one another, sifting through their dealings soullessly. I thought it would be the cashiers that we would go to, but Lucius strode past them and straight to the end of the hall where he stopped in front of a large oak desk, with a little man behind it dressed in a black suit who stood and held out a pudgy hand when he noticed Lucius approaching. "I had been told to expect you Lucius. I hope you are well?" He was a round man with very few hairs remaining on his head.

   Lucius took his hand in a brief handshake. "Yes, fine thank you." The man turned to shake my hand, but Lucius continued. "My good friend here,
Mr Godwin, is interested in investing into The Hudson Group. He will be making monthly deposits from his company."

   "Very well then," the man responded with an exasperated smile, withdrawing his gesture. "I assume you have the necessary paperwork, Mr Go
dwin?"

   He grinned as I passed him the papers with the account details on, all of a sudden feeling as if I were somehow making a grave mistake. I simply shrugged this off as a natural feeling for a man passing such wealth along and that if there were one
man I should trust with my wealth, it would be a banker. The man smiled, pulling a pen from his jacket and pointing to the bottom of a page that lay on the desk. I lingered over it, the doubt still rumbling within.

   Lucius said, "Sign your name and I ca
n promise you, you will never be bored again."

   I signed and the banker took the paper. He scrawled some details into his book before passing my papers back. "Very well, you will be noted as benefactor and there will be a small percentage removed from th
e monthly earnings of your company, Mr Godwin. That percentage will be deposited into The Hudson Group."

   I nodded, not quite sure what else to say.

   He smiled when I did not reply. "And that is everything. I shall sort the rest out. Will there be any more, Lucius?"

  
“No. At least, not yet, but do not worry.” Lucius stood abruptly, taking the fellow in a final, wordless and compulsory handshake and beckoned for me to follow him. Once again, we marched through the great hall, actively ignored by those staring blankly at statements and letters.

   Outside the bank, Lucius
swivelled on the spot. "It should go without saying that the events that took place both here and in the meetings should never be mentioned to anyone. If you do, you should not expect anyone to cover your back."

   As Lucius had said, I thought this to go without saying. With this, he gave a polite nod and excused himself, returning back to his workplace. Sick of the busyness of the previous days, I decided to return home for a drink bef
ore getting an early night in order to forget the entire thing. Gilbert would have to accept my excuse that I was preoccupied at the bank for the remainder of the afternoon.

   I bought a copy of The Times on the way home, in order to read up on current af
fairs. It seemed London remained rife with the news of the crimes that had always plagued it. As soon as I got home I threw the paper and my Father's coat down on the dining table and lit the fire for warmth. I had no ambition but to spend the rest of my day resting, asleep if at all possible. I lounged into the armchair near the fireplace, rested my feet and gave in to the heaviness of my eyes.

   I must have been fortunate to get a few hours' sleep before there was a knock at my door. The fire had since b
een reduced to ember by this point and the room had darkened and cooled. Hazily I rose from the fading warmth of my chair and stumbled over to the door, opening it slightly. Through the crack, Francis gave me an empathetic smile, and I opened the door to let him into my home.

   "So, do you feel settled, yet?" he asked as he noticed the fire and the chair.

   "Not so much settled, just exhausted." I led him over to the fireplace where he took his seat on the sofa as I tried to get the fire going again. "Work is as dull as I had imagined."

   Francis chuckled. "You will warm to it soon enough, I have no doubt.
It is just a matter of routine."

  There was a period of silence as I managed to light the fire again and return to my armchair. Francis said nothing, so I took it upon myself to break the lull. "You do not want me to attend those meetings?"

   "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

   "You did not wish for me to get involved in such business, I feel."

   "There is nothing legal about Lucius' business dealin
gs. What friend would I be if I let you walk into such a situation?"

   "And, yet, you yourself have willingly partaken in such activities."

   Francis paused. "I just did not want to see you in such a situation. That is all."

   I grinned. "I am not a child, Francis. And if I were, I am not yours
to burden. I am capable of making these decisions myself. Europe did not damage me that much.”

   Franc
is smiled slightly, but it faded soon after. He offered me no response.

   I cont
inued, pressing the matter. "To be frank, I still cannot believe you of all people are involved in such a thing."

   "I have my reasons," Francis said. He was distant - too distant, beyond my reach - and I felt that t
o enquire further would be unwise.

   I
said, "As do we all."

   "Have you spoken to James since?"

   "No. He said he would visit, although I imagine he may be rather busy in his work."

   Francis nodded. "Just... do not say anything about this to him."

   "Really? I though talking about how we nonchalantly launder money every week would be a rather good conversation to have with an officer."

   Francis smiled. "Can you blame me for being cautious?"

   "No. No I cannot."

   Francis' expression dipped slightly, but he spoke no more of the matter.
Instead, we spoke of my dealings with Gilbert, and I told him that for the time being I would work with him, no matter how much I despised it. We drank and spoke well into the night as Francis recounted matters that I had missed throughout my absent year, before he bode me farewell for the night as he had to get back to his wife. Although his mood was cheery enough, he could not hide the worry in his eyes.

   It was with no great pleasure that I returned to The Flying Knave a week later. Although I did not
agree to the deals that were happening in that room, I saw it as a necessary evil in order to achieve my own goals. I brushed through the crowd into the quiet corridor beyond the foyer and into the room where the men met. By the time I joined them, the others were already on their way to becoming intoxicated, with the exception of Rufus who was absent.

 
  "Ah, Eric!" Harry smiled upon my entrance holding his arms wide open. "On the dot as always, never before. Will you join us in a drink?"

 
  "I think I will, thank you."

 
  Harry pulled me a seat and poured me a generous glass of sherry, pushing it towards me.

 
  "How are you all?" I asked as I made myself comfortable.

 
  "We are well, just waiting for Rufus," Lucius responded, seemingly unimpressed. "The man has been a poor time keeper in recent weeks. If he does not arrive shortly then we will just have to make do without him."

 
  "Never mind him," Palmer spluttered, waving his glass in the air. "I did not come to wait on him all evening, let us play cards!"

   Lucius replied calmly, "Yes, very well. We have given him enough grace." He began to deal the cards as we all sat and drank.

   "Have you settled now, Eric?" Harry asked as he picked up his hand.

 
  "Somewhat, just sorting my affairs."

   Lucius reac
hed into the centre of the table, taking a half empty bottle of wine and pouring himself further drink. "Eric has taken over his Father's old position."