Entry #525125, added on 09-13-07 @ 5:34 am EDT
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| Chapter Twenty | Entry #525125 |
Henry Perkins sat quietly drinking and mumbling to himself, in a booth at the ‘rose and crown’. He was slumped over his fourth Gin and was breathing heavily as if psyching himself up for something, and indeed he was. He had yet again had one of those discreet messages from Silas that Mason required more test subjects. Henry struggled to understand why Mason was needing so many bodies. Going to that lab was now like going to a slaughterhouse. He wasn't asking questions though, as long as he got paid, he would deliver the goods. Masons own attempts at acquiring test subjects had left him feeling that he was getting desperate, and perhaps enjoying his work a little too much. Sure Henry had raped but he preferred his women alive. Anyway he was good at his work and killing people meant nothing to him. This was more so the case after the death of Tom. He had felt himself quite drastically change and what little morals and decency he had were now long forgotten. The last few weeks had turned Henry into a seething and enraged man. He drank heavily to suppress the images in his head that haunted his dreams, but the alcohol also intensified his irrational temperament. People had begun to stay clear of him, although none knew exactly what he was capable of. Henry’s guilt for the death of his brother had turned into the anger that had resulted in his embarrassing humiliation when confronting Silas. After a short time of self pity, Henry’s feelings of humiliation turned into anger again and then into hate. He could feel his self-control waning, and now every time his anger was released, it was released with venom. He had killed three times since his meeting with Silas and each time he had been more brutal to his victim. At some hazy point in the attacks he would lose control and ravage the poor person. In his mind though each crunching blow and each face he smashed belonged to Silas.
Henry had been in the pub for most of the night and now as the time was approaching the early hours he was prepared to earn his money.
“Henry…”
Tom stared pathetically at Henry in his mind. These feeble words seeped from the battered and bleeding face before him. Henry shook his head trying to dislodge the images, but they remained and the scene replayed over in his mind. He could see his hands reaching for a large serrated hunting knife, but even though he tried to stop himself the images played back regardless.
“Henry…”
He watched as the knife was put up against Tom’s throat and the slightest of pressure was applied. Then there was hesitation, like there always was before what Henry knew would happen.
“Brother…”
Henry’s blood was pumping and his heart pounding, he was ready for action. Blurred images of his brother’s mangled body as it sank, all bloodied and black into the Thames were driving him on. He left the main street and disappeared into the shadowy cover of the unlit alleys. Quietly he made his way past the back walls of pubs and shops until at last he came to a small courtyard behind some houses. He could hear the groans of a street whore fucking against distant walls; a good target. He knew though that he would have to find a much more private area. He couldn’t risk being seen, and the courtyard was overlooked on all sides by the backs of houses. Keeping his back to the wall and dancing between the shadows he crept away from the courtyard and closer to the alley lovers. He peered from behind stacks of empty crates and rubbish at the two figures vigorously groping and embracing. He would have to do it here in the darkness.
Henry’s mind began to wander again, a voice shouting out at him. ‘How could you have given in to Silas? How could you betray your own brother? His blood is upon your hands’.
Suddenly he snapped back to reality, and his eyes fixed upon the two figures in the shadows ahead. Almost instinctively he grabbed a broken bottle that lay upon the ground amongst the other debris and filth. His pulse was racing and his teeth clenched. Two for one, he didn’t care. He burst from his cover and ran straight at the unaware couple; the bottle swinging down with intense force into the back of the man’s head. The woman didn’t even know what had happened before she also got the full brunt of Henry’s fist in her face. Both figures slumped to the ground and Henry pounced upon them. First the man, straddling his chest, he began to pummel him in the face with the bottle. Repeated punches, over and over again, flinging blood and flesh all over the alley. Then he scrambled over to the groaning woman as she fought to regain her consciousness. He grabbed her by the loose rags around her chest and lifted her towards him. Her head lolled around on a limp neck and she mumbled incoherent nonsense at him. Henry let her drop back to the ground before kicking her in the stomach. The woman screamed with what would be her last breath, as Henry dropped his knee upon her neck. Neither of them even had the chance to defend themselves and very soon both were very dead. Long after the struggling had subsided Henry was still pounding the bodies. With each punch he grunted the words ‘SILAS….SILAS…SILAS’.
It was a murky wet morning. The grey clouds in the sky mingled with the smog rising from the streets of the town. Rain fell in a mist upon the land and left everyone who had ventured out soaked to the skin. The small group of mourners that had gathered in Manor Park Cemetery were no exception. Chief Inspector Stubbs stood amongst them. Dressed in his uniform, and clutching a tatty prayer book, he joined the others as they listened to the priest pay his last respects. It had seemed so long since Stubbs had felt that surge of enthusiasm that work often provided him, and since the death of Professor Halloran, his thoughts had focused more upon his own family. It had only been just over a week since he had rushed to the Professor’s quarters simply to fall to his knees in horror. The area had already been sealed off and the body had been covered with a sheet. The sheet was by then soaked through with blood and it clung tightly to the body underneath. Stubbs had lifted it slowly to assert for himself his old tutor’s demise. He initially had to turn his eyes away, a reflex to the horrific sight. The professor’s throat had been slit, quite cleanly, in one long laceration. The cut had gone so deep that his head only remained connected to the body by the spinal cord and some loose flesh at the back of his neck. Whoever had done this had meant the professor serious harm. Yet at the same time Stubbs couldn’t help but feel that the perpetrator had used great skill in his execution. The autopsy had proven that there was no bruising or injuries sustained any where else on the body. What worried Stubbs even more about the incident was that nothing was stolen, nothing had even been disturbed. The professor had been killed specifically. Stubbs just couldn’t understand why. The old man had never hurt anyone and had definitely not made enemies to the extent that one would want him dead.
As the funeral came to an end and the mourners each took their turn to lay flowers upon the grave, the Chief Inspector was approached by a police officer whom had patiently been waiting several feet away for an appropriate time to pass on his message.
“The Superintendent wants to talk to you, he says it’s important.”
Stubbs nodded his acknowledgement, and the officer left. Since Jennings had been mugged, he had targeted the London streets with a vengeance. Although the Superintendent had not revealed much about what had happened that night, he had returned to the station with a new more intense vigour. The Baron’s ring was gone, and the whole case had dried up. The lead that the Professor had passed on to Stubbs had never been followed up, and now with his death, Stubbs had all but forgotten about it. Work had become a haze to Stubbs. He came and went as usual but the spark had gone from his eyes.
When Stubbs arrived at the station he went straight to the foyer reception.
“Margaret, where is Superintendent Jennings?”
“He’s in the Briefing Room with Sir Silas.”
“This better not be another bloody pep talk!”
Margaret shrugged her shoulders and managed a half smile.
Inside the briefing room Jennings and Silas sat quietly talking. As Stubbs entered both men turned to face him.
“Ahh, Chief Inspector. Sorry to have disturbed you, I know it’s early.” Said Silas, his words cutting through the silence.
“I was told it was important?” Stubbs was not in the mood to mince his words; he got straight to the point.
“Indeed it is John.” Jennings now joined in the conversation. “As you know the Princess Viktoria is due to arrive today. Now we’ve gone to a lot of trouble to ensure nothing will go wrong and that security is tight. There can be no lapses in concentration or judgement.”
“Sir?” Stubbs queried, not entirely following.
“John, I know how close you were to Professor Halloran, and God knows London has gone to Hell these past few months, but I’ve a new assignment for you. We’ve received the usual death threats that come with a royal visit, however what with the heightened tensions, the princess’s arrival this afternoon and the increase in crime recently; we’re not taking anything lightly. In particularly we have received an unnerving threat that has been made against Sir Silas himself. That is why I’m assigning you escort for Sir Silas, as of immediately. You will accompany him to the docks for the royal arrival and you will personally ensure his safety. The princess comes with her own protection so liaise with them. But for the length of the journey back to london and the following ceremony you will be personally responsible for Sir Silas."
“No offence Sir, but what about my current cases?”
“Your cases will be shared out amongst the men. Don’t worry. Due to all the raised tensions between Scotland Yard and the Palace, we’ve actually been assigned some more officers from Bridwell and Bishopsgate. Not that anywhere can spare men, but we seem to be in the thick of it more than most. So there you go, everything is sorted.”
Stubbs looked from Jennings to Silas, he was left dumbstruck from what he had just heard. He understood the need for security surrounding the royal visit, but to be put on what was essentially babysitting duty left Stubbs lost for words. He simply agreed and before he knew it he was speeding off in Sir Silas’s private carriage.
The chief Inspector sat quietly watching Silas opposite him, reading his daily newspaper. ‘London in chaos’ was the headline that stared back at Stubbs, and he smiled and shook his head. ‘Chaos isn’t the half of it’ he thought to himself. The superintendent’s mugging had concerned him more than Stubbs suspected he was admitting. Consequently he had increased the amount of officers patrolling the streets, in an attempt to lower the crime rate. All resources had been stretched as the west End riots continued and now reports were coming in that the prisons were full. Pauper’s jails and Asylums were becoming temporary holding facilities for the petty criminals that were being arrested daily. It was good to hear that other stations were lending their support, but Stubbs still thought it an odd time to arrange a royal visit. But then he got the impression from hearing Sir Silas talk that the aristocracy didn’t really see much of the streets so were not concerned about them. Stubbs wasn’t sure how long the Princess was planning on staying in England, but he hoped it wasn’t long.
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© Copyright 2007 ReflectingeyE (UN: reflectingeye at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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