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Tuesday
February 14, 2012
11:17pm EST


Content Rating Notice: XGC -- May Contain Extreme Graphic Content
Only For: 18 and Older, Not Offended
  >> Book >> Horror/Scary >> ID #1275354  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
The Masonic Plague
A dark and twisted tale from beneath the streets of Victorian London.
Rated:
XGC
by
Avg Rating: (11)
Entry #532596, added on 09-03-07 @ 5:57 pm EDT
   Entry Access Restriction: None.
Chapter Twenty TwoEntry #532596
Most of London now knew about the mostly successful events of the day and the extremely unfortunate death of Officer Greening. The latter inevitably causing the most debate. Bad news is the only real news it seemed. One man however was oblivious of everything that had happened throughout the day. He had much more demanding things upon his mind.
Franz was cold to the bone. He sat, hidden in a dark recess of a warehouse on the London docks. He had been silently watching as a group of men sat playing cards upon an upturned crate. They shared some bottles of whiskey and were betting large amounts of money; money that seemed unusual for such socially unappealing men to have. Franz had been spying on them for several days; watching their comings and goings. He had followed them separately as they went about their business and knew where they liked to frequent. Each one was a thief, criminal or of other dubious occupation. They travelled from public house to alleyway, to the docks and home leaving a string of muggings, rapes and broken bones along the way. Franz had watched it all and through everything he witnessed had remained in the shadows; a silent observer.
The men had been sat entertaining themselves for three quarters of an hour, waiting for the return of whom Franz had guessed was their leader. A stocky vile man whom had shown a vicious temper that very easily emerged; Franz had followed him as well. He had watched as the man had drunk in his local pub, he had witnessed some of the vicious acts he had committed, and he had listened as best he could to his conversations. It was these conversations that had first sparked Franz’s interest. His usual focus was misted by opium but one word had leapt out of a hazy jumble of conversations. One word had cut through his psychodelia. This one word was ‘Mason’.
Ever since Charles Mason had colluded with Jefferson and Hesser in the Baron’s murder, Franz had been following every lead he could in the hope that he would once again confront the Baron’s treacherous colleagues and exact the justice he desperately wanted. The justice that would let his soul and his heart rest.
For sixteen months he had travelled Europe, but every new lead had turned into a dead end. Four months ago he had arrived in England after he had learnt of Jefferson’s affiliation with an old associate in Derbyshire. It turned out to be another dead lead, however he had come across some correspondence that had provided him with a postal address in London. On investigating though the address had long since been vacated. Franz was tired and weak with only vengeance driving him on. He had found temporary solace in a few opium dens, but even the effects of the drugs soon couldn’t stop the pain from re-emerging. He was close to giving up. The failure in his quest was enough to tempt him to end his own sorrow, but then he had heard that name; ‘Mason’. It was like a claw upon his heart and it had shaken him back to his senses. He still visited the ‘Dragon’s Den’ but he had refound his focus. The man he now waited patiently in the darkness to arrive was the man that had uttered these words. Franz had followed him, always from afar, in the hope that he would lead him to Mason. Unfortunately he had turned out to be a very difficult man to track. Franz had seen him do many things but each night he found his efforts were left unrewarded. The man obviously knew the streets well and succeeded in evading Franz on every occasion. Frustrated and angry at himself, he felt his patience had been stretched too far. Tonight he would confront the man if he had too. If he would not unwittingly lead him to Mason, then he would be forced.
The increasing news coverage of the murders and disappearances in London only confirmed what suspicions Franz had in his mind; that Charles Mason had set up residence in London and had restarted his experimentation. Although Franz had not managed to track down the true culprit in the Baron’s betrayal and murder, Charles Mason had played his part and for that he too should share in Jefferson’s fate. A further twenty minutes passed before at last the man Franz was waiting for arrived. He burst into the warehouse and immediately began shouting obscenities at the men before kicking over their make-shift card table. The four men all backed away from him. After barking some orders at them, all of the men ran from the building with a purpose; presumably to prepare for the evenings events. It only made sense that this man would have some help to move the bodies without being discovered. As they all left Franz followed from a distance.

Franz silently watched as the carriage was gently brought to a halt upon Gerard Street, the stocky man exited and disappeared down a nearby alley. Here he lay in wait for his next victim. Franz had already witnessed the maniacal manner in which this man dispatched his prey and he knew that he wanted to avoid a head-on confrontation. He was relying upon the element of surprise to be his advantage. Franz drifted from the shadows to the rear of the carriage, in his hands he held a small blacksmiths hammer. He crept around the carriage to its side door and quickly peered in. Inside one of the men was laying out a large sheet of sack cloth; presumably to help soak up the blood from the next poor victim. He would have to be quick and quiet if he didn’t want the driver to notice him. Gently Franz unlatched the carriage door and opened it slightly. The door creaked; not much but enough to get the mans attention. He turned and seeing the door ajar, slammed it shut.
“Everything alright?” The driver shouted through the small sliding door that allowed driver and passenger to speak.
“Yeah! You just keep your eyes open.” Came the reply.
Franz sensed that both men were far too on edge for him to risk taking one out without the other hearing. He sank back into the shadows to rethink his strategy.

Henry waited patiently by the back door of ‘Crowley Bookkeepers’. He stood quite blatantly leaning against the wall beside the trap door to the buildings cellar. He was half way through his second cigarette before he heard movement from inside. The lock on the door clicked and a rather surly looking man opened it. He carried two bags of rubbish and threw them upon a pile that was gathering in the alley. The man noticed Henry and stopped in surprise.
“I’ve been waiting for you Jew!”
The man remained silent.
“Wasn’t sure you were gonna make an appearance.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who’s been keeping an eye on you. Half ten every night you chuck out the rubbish before leaving for home.”
“What…?”
“Sometimes I like to like to pick my victims specifically. Sure I’ve had my share of whores and drunks, they’re mainly opportune killings. Occasionally though someone catches my eye and I like to make an extra effort in making their last moments that much more painful.”
The man was clearly uncomfortable with this conversation and was slowly backing towards the door. His hands were shaking and a distinct tremble could be detected in his voice.
“But why?”
“Why? Because I fuckin’ hate Jews!”
At this the man spun around and began to fumble with the door handle. Henry pounced upon him with a thunderous blow to his kidneys. The Jewish man fell to his knees, turning his head just in time to see Henry stretch a length of piano wire between his fists.

“Is he done yet?” Came a voice from the carriage. The driver slid back the little door to the cab and replied,
“Not yet. I can just about see him and it looks like he’s just getting started.”
“Well I hope he hurries up, it’s bloody freezing.”
Franz remained silently in the shadows, he couldn’t see what was happening in the alley but he had a good idea what the end result would be. Suddenly a door burst open further up the street. It was the back exit for a brothel, and a drunken prostitute stumbled out and threw up into the gutter. All three men turned to locate the noise. They all watched the semi-conscious woman wipe her face and then stagger off down the street away from them. Sensing she hadn’t seen the carriage, no-one moved. Once she had cleared the alley the two men in the carriage went back to their duties. Franz spied the door of the brothel that remained ajar and quietly shifted towards it.

The Jewish man was frantically clawing at the wire garrotte around his neck. Henry stood behind him with his knee in the man’s back. The man kicked furiously out in panic, but Henry held him firm and steady. He stared down at the helpless man, looking into his bloodshot eyes and cast a slight smirk at him as he began to spit frothy blood from his gasping mouth. But the eyes he saw were of another man, in his mind it was someone much more deserving of this fate.
“Die Silas!” Henry whispered to the man.
The man Gargled some indiscernible words through the spittle and blood. Henry had taken the man to within seconds of death before releasing his hold and allowing him to collapse in a gagging heap upon the floor.
“You don’t get to die that easily Silas! I’m gonna have some fun with you.”
The Jewish man hadn’t heard Henry, he lay foetally, his body shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t even notice as Henry opened up the doors to the buildings cellar. He tied one end of his length of piano wire to a large solid metal hook that was cast into the brickwork, designed to clamp open the cellar doors. He then grabbed the man by his legs and dragged him over to the opening. The man had ceased struggling and just groaned with every movement.

“Hiya darlin.” Both men in the carriage spun around to see a young woman peering into the cab. They stared agasp. The woman delicately waved back.
“I thought you were look out!”
“I’m looking out for Henry not you. What were you doing?”
“Boys, there’s no need to argue.”
The man in the cab lunged forward through the carriage door and grabbed the woman by the hair. He deftly brought a knife up to her throat.
“What’s your pleasure?” Asked a now trembling woman. Taken quite by surprise her body was paralysed with fear.
The man with the knife looked the woman over and soon his anxiety was replaced with an appreciation for her fine form. She was obviously one of the brothel whores. Her long curly auburn hair flowed down her figure apart from the clump restraining her. She wore a tight Basque and a petty skirt. She had a shawl thrown around her, the only attempt at protection from the night chill.
“How’s he doing?” Called out the man.
The driver dragged his eyes from the woman and squinted down to the alley. Through the smog and dim street light he could still make out Henry’s figure.
“Still busy.”
“Good.” With that the knife was moved from the woman’s throat down her neck to the top of her laced Basque. With a flick of his wrist he cut the top lace and the Basque popped open with an eruption of bosom.

When the Jewish man regained consciousness it was to find his ankles and wrists tied together and that a wire noose hung around his neck. Henry sat on an old wine crate he had found lying amongst the rubbish. He was smoking his third cigarette of the evening. When he saw the Jewish man stir he stubbed out his cigarette and wandered over to him. The man quickly struggled to his knees.
“I think you can probably guess what is going to happen now.” Remarked Henry.
With a wheezing husk to his voice the man replied, “I’ve money. Take it all…”
“This isn’t about money Jew. It’s about pain. My pain and your pain. You are fortunate though as your pain is going to end soon, whereas mine will last.”
The Jewish man began to sob. Henry strode over to him, “Be a man you Jewish Fucker!”. Henry kicked him over and he fell into the open cellar. There was a fraction of a second of stillness before the wire suddenly went tense. This was soon followed by a heavy thud.

There were groans emanating from the carriage as it rocked rhythmically from the activity within.
“Oi! Keep it down Bob!” Called back the driver. The groaning continued.
Franz was again beside the carriage. He leaned against its side and peered in through the window. So far his plan was going well. The whore had been more than happy to oblige his request once he had flash some cash. He slid a pearl handled knife from within his coat before casting a quick glance to the driver. Quietly Franz crept along the side of the carriage towards the front. Before he even realised someone’s presence, the driver’s throat was slit and he was being dragged from the front seat and to the ground. Franz quickly pulled the shaking body away from the carriage and into the shadows. The horse that drew the carriage stirred slightly but was soon calmed by the tender stroke of Franz as he returned to finish his job. The carriage continued to rock and wiping his knife clean upon his coat, Franz quietly opened the carriage door. The occupants were completely unaware of his presence, and for one that was how it remained. The woman tried to scream, but Franz held his hand fast across her mouth as he dragged her kicking form from the cab. His other arm reached around her neck and he squeezed tight before visciously twisting her head causing a bone crunching crack to signify there was no longer a risk of her screaming. He dropped her to the ground before going back into the cab to retrieve the other body. Franz grabbed his knife and dislodged it from the mans skull before kicking the corpse to the street. Franz jumped from the cab and clambered up into the drivers seat. With a quick flick of the reigns the horse slowly began to pull the carriage into the alley, leaving the three corpses lying in the gutter.

As the carriage pulled up to the bookkeepers door, Henry emerged from the cellar holding the Jewish man’s severed head in his hand.
“Did I fucking call you!” Henry walked over to the carriage and threw the head in through the window. “Where’s the other one?”
Henry opened up the door of the cab and climbed in. “Just get me out of here!”
Franz again flicked the reigns and the carriage pulled away down the alley. After only a few short moments the carriage slowed to a stop. Franz jumped from the driver’s seat and burst into the carriage. Henry froze in surprise and stared at this intruder.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I just want information.” Franz replied.
“What the fuck!”
“Information. That’s all.”
Henry smiled, then casually spat at the floor.
“Well I ain’t telling you shit.”
Franz swiftly swung down the pearl handled knife and thrust it into Henry’s knee. Henry sprang forward grabbing both his knee and the protruding handle of the knife. He looked up at Franz whom had moved back to the far side of the carriage, another knife already pointing at Henry’s face. Blood was running from his leg and he gritted his teeth forcefully suppressing the painful urge to scream in agony.
“All I want is information.” Franz reaffirmed.
“What the fuck do you wanna know?”
“I’ve heard you speak of a Mason?”
“What of him?”
“A Dr. Charles Mason?”
“Oh, you had to be something to do with that crazy fucker!”
“You will take me to him.”
Henry pushed past the pain to force a mocking laugh.
“Fuck you!”
Franz again was quick to respond by kicking out his foot and pushing his boot hard onto the protruding pearl knife handle that was lodged into Henry’s knee. This time Henry couldn’t hold back the pain and let out a scream of agony. A short while later Franz climbed back into the drivers seat of the carriage and pulled away. He pushed back the small sliding cab door and Henry’s face appeared.
“Just go where I tell you.” He said resentfully.

The carriage pulled up beside an old building, and Franz departed. He wandered over to one of the doors and knocked. A short while later the door opened and Mason stood, open mouthed staring in disbelief at Franz. He slowly backed into the doorway and allowed Franz to enter.

The two men remained silent on the journey down the stairs and into the Doctors laboratory.
“Franz? It can’t be, I thought you were dead. They said you were dead.” Mason was still in shock at the sight of his supposedly deceased colleague.
“Just easily forgotten.” Franz replied.
“Franz…I’m at a loss.”
“For years I’ve been searching for you all.” Franz pulled out another knife from beneath his cloak. “My heart yearns for vengeance.”
Mason stepped back away from the knife that was being pointed in his direction.
“It was Jefferson, Franz, Jefferson. He arranged everything. I had no idea what he had planned for Erik.”
Franz moved towards Mason.
“You betrayed him as much as the others. You all share the responsibility of his death.”
Mason stopped and raised his hands, his expression becoming sympathetic.
“But Franz, the Baron is not dead.”
“Don’t even try to patronise me.”
“No Franz, it’s the truth. When Jefferson stabbed Erik, the blade severed part of his spine leaving him partially paralyzed, but it was not fatal. Don’t get me wrong he was dying, if I hadn’t treated him he would be dead.”
“I don’t believe you!”
“Here Franz…look.” Mason hurried over to the door which led to the chamber in which the Baron was kept. Franz followed at a distance, but once Mason had revealed the chest to him he lowered the knife.
“Is this some kind of Joke?” Franz asked, confused about what he was supposed to be seeing. Mason gestured towards the box. Franz cautiously went to the chest and Mason, seeing an exit, quietly made his way back out of the chamber.
“What have you done?” Asked Franz as he reached out to the Chest’s lid. He slid open the large rusted bolt and lifted the lid.
“Franz don’t you see this is progress, real progress.”
But the Doctors voice was falling upon deaf ears.
“What is this? What have you done?”
As Franz moved closer to the open chest, he stared deep within its confines and at the lump of flesh and hair that lay quivering inside.
“Mason! Where is the Baron?” Mason remained silent.
The fleshy mound in the chest moved slightly and exposed a misshapen collection of teeth and gum. A large oversized tongue flopped from within the deformed mouth and with it was the whispered wheezing of a voice that Franz recognised instantly.
“F…f…fra..anz.”
Mason slammed shut the door of the chamber.
© Copyright 2007 ReflectingeyE (UN: reflectingeye at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
ReflectingeyE has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.


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