Blood Tribute (The Lucas Gedge Thrillers Book 1) (18 page)

H
annah awoke
, bleary-eyed. She couldn’t move her hands or feet, because they were bound to the top and bottom of the bed frame. She felt drained, weak, yet also curiously energised. Esther had escaped. Surely at any moment, the house would be raided by the police, with her father leading them, and she and all the other girls held here would be released? But why was she still here? Had the gang fled?

She heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs. The bedroom door was wrenched open. Her heart sank, as Ackerman stood there, looking down at her.

‘Troublesome minx, aren’t you? Annoyance value, like your father.’

‘What about my father?’

‘Oh, he’s trying to make trouble for us. That’s why we snatched you, of course, to put him off. But never mind. Neither your dramatic attempted escape or his interference will make any difference to the outcome. Yesterday I did think of doing away with you, to teach him a lesson, and because you’d ended the life of one of my men. But the fact is, a spirited wench like you is just what some of the more selective buyers are looking for.’

‘Buyers? What are you talking about?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough. In just a little while you’ll be gone from here.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Not just you. All the young ladies we’ve collected. And I’m not going to tell you where you’re going. It makes no difference to you anyway.’

‘You said you knew my father years ago. But how did you know about me, and the fact that I was going to the Palace of Varieties that night?’

‘Can’t do any harm to let you in on a few of our little secrets. I knew about your dad’s return to England, through an acquaintance of mine. He’s not bad at the snooping game. Kept an eye on Mr Gedge, and realised you were the apple of his eye. Once we’d seen you go to the theatre, that was it. That boy you went with, he wasn’t likely to stop us. There was really only one way back to your place, so once we knew when the show was due to end, it all fell into place.’

‘It doesn’t matter, anyway, Esther’s escaped. She’ll have told them where we are by now.’

The smile disappeared from Ackerman’s face. ‘Actually, she didn’t get away. I have to admit it was a close thing. But there was an accident. She fell. Hit her head.’

‘What?’

‘She’s dead.’

Hannah’s eyes blazed, and tears welled up. ‘An accident? You must think me stupid! You killed her. You or one of your thugs. Just a young girl. You’re animals!’

Ackerman shook his head. ‘I’m not interested in what you believe. But I’ll tell you again. It was an accident. The point is, the whistle wasn’t blown, and shortly it’ll be too late anyway. I suggest you settle down. We’ve learnt our lesson. You’re bound securely, so don’t waste your energy struggling.’

He left, locking the door behind him. Hannah lay there, sobbing. Was there any hope left?

T
hat night
, Gedge had the nightmare again. This time, in between the weird Arabic ululations, he could just make out a young girl’s voice; pleading, crying out, then finally screaming, gradually rising in volume until it drowned out the chanting. Finally he heard his own voice shouting, and woke with a start.

He washed and got dressed. His jaw ached, as though he’d had it clenched tight for too long. He sat on his bed and shut his eyes. Today was the day. It was now or never. He needed to put his nightmares, their physical effects, and any doubts he might have, out of his mind. He had to focus on the work at hand: rescuing Hannah and the other girls, and dealing with Ackerman and the gang.

H
e strode
up to White Lion Street to brief his friends on what he had gleaned from Fox-Williams. Rondeau pulled out a map and spread it on the kitchen table. Number 27 Leonard Street was a large terraced town house, facing onto a busy thoroughfare.

Darius pointed at the map. ‘We would be wise to attempt entry from the rear. There is a narrow lane running along the backs of the houses.’

Gedge said, ‘Yes, and to try anything in daylight would be foolish. We’ll need to make our move after dark.’

Rondeau said, ‘One other thing we will need to be aware of: this small mark at a crossroads only half a block from the house? It represents what the police call a fixed point. A constable will be stationed there.’

They had obtained all the information they could from the map. Gedge said, ‘We need to decide how we’re going to actually get in to this house. We’ve got to go on a little reconnaissance trip.’

J
ust before 11am
, Gedge, Rondeau and Darius huddled together at the rear wall of the house, while Polly checked on the front.

Gedge pointed. ‘There’s a gap between the top of the gate and the brick arch above. If I was a foot taller I’d be able to see through it.’

Darius cupped his hands, and lifted Gedge gently but firmly up to the gap. He saw a thin, sour-faced man emerging from a door to what he assumed was a kitchen. He put something into a rubbish bin, wiped his hands, and turned to look around at the yard, then up at the windows of neighbouring houses. Seemingly satisfied, he returned indoors.

Gedge eased further up and scanned the yard. The wall bordering the neighbours on the left-hand side was obscured by a hedge of large evergreen shrubs. Several ill-matched and crumbling lean-to sheds lined the right-hand wall, and these seemed to hold the property’s store of firewood. In the centre of the yard the cobbled floor was weed-strewn.

Gedge looked up at the house itself and saw that the central window in the top floor was open, framing a man who was craning his head out and looking this way and that. He ducked down, took out his binoculars, and carefully raised himself so that he could just see over. In Gedge’s magnified view, the man moved back inside and lit up a cigarette, and he realised that the long shape propped up against the window frame was a rifle.

Gedge signalled and Darius lowered him to the ground.

‘There’s a lookout on the top floor. No doubt there’s one at the front as well. And we don’t know how many men are in there, or their firepower. The lock on this back gate doesn’t look substantial, but even if we got through, we could be gunned down in the yard before we’d had a chance of getting to the kitchen door.’

Polly rejoined them.

‘There’s also someone in a top floor window at the front. Otherwise quiet.’

‘We’re going to have to gain entry from here, at the back. But we’ll need to create a diversion.’

Rondeau had been silent, with a furrowed brow, as if concentrating hard on the problem.

‘I happen to know there is a fire station just two streets from here. Can we somehow start a blaze? That would sow confusion. The attention it draws might also play to our advantage.’

‘Those sheds,’ said Gedge. ‘The wood inside them is protected from the damp. If we can project something over the wall and inside, we should be able to start a fire. Claude, I think you’ve hit on something.’

B
ack at White Lion Street
they assembled in the parlour again.

‘So, how are we going to ignite that firewood?’ asked Polly.

‘Torches,’ said Gedge. ‘If we can get hold of wooden sticks and some absorbent material, we can soak the material in a flammable liquid and use it to wrap the ends of the batons. Then we can just use matches to light them when we get there. The difficulty will be throwing them accurately enough to get them into the sheds. Anyone on the ground won’t be able to see what they’re aiming at.’

Rondeau turned to Darius. ‘Our friend here should be able to help with that. You would have to go a long way to find anyone with better projectile skills.’

The Parthian moved closer to the seated group. ‘Monsieur Rondeau is kind as always. But he is correct that I have a facility with such weapons. Somehow my brain appreciates the curve of the flight and it tells my arm the force and angle to use.’

Gedge smiled. ‘Or the tension on a bow string, I wouldn’t wonder. A strange power over horses, projectile weapon skills… I can see why Mr Rondeau values your services so highly, Darius. So, if we can lift you up to take a peek over the door in that wall, that one look will be enough for you to aim the lit torches accurately at the fire-wood sheds?’

‘I believe so, sir. I am concerned about the police constable, however. Unless he has been called away on other matters, he is bound to come running when he realises a blaze has started.’

Polly spoke up. ‘That’s a good point, but it might work in our favour. All being well, his first action will be to alert the fire station, which is just what we want. I think the main problem would be the period before the blaze gets going. If he happens to be dealing with something near the house, or taking a wander from his fixed point because of the cold, and stumbles upon us committing arson, we’ll be in trouble.’

‘We need some sort of insurance against that,’ said Gedge, winking at Polly.

‘It looks like our minds are thinking alike, Mr Gedge,’ she said. ‘Leave the constable to me. And I’ll also make sure the firemen get called. Yourself and Darius will have your work cut out with setting the fire.’

‘That’s settled, then,’ said Gedge. ‘We’ll use the firemen and their engine as a sort of Trojan Horse. Then it’ll be a matter of Darius and myself searching for Hannah in the house. We’ll have to be prepared for hand-to-hand fighting. Claude, will you stay here?’

The older man scoffed. ‘No. You don’t think you can keep me away from the excitement altogether, do you? I may be past grappling with enemies at close quarters, but I can contribute in other ways. I will take a watching brief outside. If something untoward happens outside the house, I will try to alert you in some way.’

As the darkness drew in, they settled down to hammer out the final details.

A
ckerman paced
the hospital waiting room. The delay was irritating, but he consoled himself with the fact that this would be his penultimate visit before a break of several months. Once he’d been paid for the current job, he’d spend a fraction of the proceeds on his mother’s hospital fees for the next six months, and then disappear to the continent. It would be a working holiday, of course. If anything, the foreign coppers were even less competent than their British counterparts, and there’d be plenty of opportunity for the acquisition of more lucre.

He’d had enough of the waiting. Ignoring the protestations of the receptionist, he flung open the doors leading to the corridor with his mother’s room. He made it to the room and looked through the circular window in the door. There was something wrong. He walked in and stared at the bed. Not only was his mother not in it, or anywhere else in the room, but the bed had been stripped, and her personal effects were gone.

He heard Doctor Whitehead calling out his name and hurrying along the corridor towards the room. He turned to face him.

‘Well, doctor? Is this what I think it is?’

‘Mr Ackerman,’ began the medic, with a nervous smile. ‘I was about to send for you. I am so sorry. It was quite sudden. We are not sure of the cause as yet, but at your mother’s age—’

‘There’s no need for all this waffle. I understand what you’re saying. She’s gone.’ He turned away to look at the empty bed again.

‘I am glad you are able to take it calmly. We will of course take care of all the arrangements. We will need to discuss certain practical matters. And there is the matter of payment.’

‘Don’t worry about that, doctor. In a day or two I will provide you with ample funds for whatever seems the best method of disposal.’

‘That hardly seems a fitting term for—’

‘Whether you believe it fitting is neither here nor there. What you don’t realise, doctor, is that I’m now free. Free of the albatross that’s been around my neck. I’m feeling strangely light-headed, doctor. And I think now is the ideal opportunity to do something I’ve been wanting to do, ever since I first crossed the threshold of this dump.’

‘And what is that, Mr Ackerman?’

‘This.’

Ackerman drew back his arm and a moment later his fist connected with Whitehead’s left cheek, sending teeth flying and leaving the doctor insensible on the floor.

A nearby nurse shrieked, as the ex-patient’s son strode back down the corridor, wincing with the pain from the knuckles of his right hand, even as he laughed out loud.

A
t 9pm
, Gedge and Darius turned into the lane behind the houses, each carrying a canvas knapsack filled with bundles of torches and lined with oilcloth. At the end of each torch, an oil-soaked rag had been wrapped and tied securely. They wore dark clothing and kept their heads down, hoping to convey the impression of two manual workers heading to or from their employment. Polly and Rondeau were to approach separately; Polly to seek out the constable at the street corner where he was stationed, and Rondeau to keep watch at the front of the house.

Fortunately, the brick walls lining the alley prevented anyone in the houses on either side from observing them, and the subtle curve of the passageway meant that they wouldn’t be seen by anybody passing along the connecting streets. They reached their destination and placed the bags on the floor.

Again, Darius hoisted Gedge up to look through the gap above the top of the door in the house’s rear wall. All was quiet. Although lights showed faintly through some of the windows, there was nobody obviously looking out, and no apparent activity in the kitchen. Gedge was a little surprised that he could see no lookout, as the hours of darkness would surely be the ones offering more risk.

Gedge got down and laboured to lift the much heavier Parthian up to the gap. Darius took in the layout of the yard and signalled to be lowered again.

Gedge took out a box of matches and lit the first torch. The end flared into a bright, yellow-white flame. He handed it to Darius. At a signal from Gedge, Darius stood back a couple of feet and launched the torch in a graceful arc over the wall in the direction of the firewood sheds. He immediately hoisted Gedge up again to check on the result. It was good. The torch had landed just inside the lip of one of the lean-tos, and had dropped into the stack of logs within. A glow was beginning to spread. The fire was taking hold.

Gedge whispered. ‘Good so far. Now several in quick succession.’

Darius complied. Three more torches were lit and launched over the wall within a few seconds, each one leaving his hand with a soft whoosh and leaving a faint trail of sparks.

P
olly had been relieved
to see the constable still stationed at the junction between New Road and Charlotte Street, only a hundred yards away from Gedge and Darius. Being a crossroads, there were a few people about, and one hansom trotted past. The policeman was standing where he could be clearly seen, under a gas lamp. He seemed to be studying the ground a foot in front of him.
All to the good
, thought Polly.
We don’t want one who’s too observant
.

‘Hello, officer. I wonder, could you help me?’

The constable looked up, with wide eyes, no doubt embarrassed to be caught not paying due attention. He was young; seventeen if she had to guess. Still wet behind the ears. Probably wouldn’t be much use if there was any rough stuff, but that wasn’t the point.

‘Miss! Yes, if I can. Ought you to be out at this time of night, on your own, like?’

‘Well, if you can help me I won’t be on the streets on my own for much longer. The address I have here. I believe it’s nearby. Could you help me find it?’ She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

He studied the address. ‘Yes, you’re very close. It’s near the fire station, just around there.’ He made a vague gesture.

‘As you implied, it’s not the best idea for a lady to be out of doors alone in the hours of darkness. So would you accompany me there?’

‘Yes, of course, Miss.’

T
hey left
it for a minute while the fire developed. Then, Gedge had another look over the top of the door. The shed was well ablaze, flames filling the interior and starting to lick around the top of the roof. The surrounding yard and the back of the house were illuminated by the orange glow. The sound of the fire was increasing as well; its crackles and pops getting louder and louder.

To add to the conflagration, Darius hurled three more missiles. They soon started to see the flames leaping above the level of the wall.

A cry came from the adjoining house to the right. Gedge saw a window open and somebody peer out and shout again.

Gedge took a final look over the top of the gate. Several people emerged from the kitchen door and ran out into the yard. They approached the inferno, but shied back again.

The urgent clanging of a bell sounded from the far end of the alley. ‘The fire-engine!’ said Gedge.

‘Let’s make their work easier,’ said Darius. ‘With the noise of the fire, nobody inside will hear this.’

From one of the bags, he produced a big cold chisel and a club hammer. He applied the chisel to the lock of the yard door and, from a great height, smashed it with the hammer. The lock broke away, leaving the door attached to its frame by a few splinters. They both took the bags and stood back, gazing up at the flames leaping above the wall, as though they were bystanders agog with the excitement of the fire.

The fire-engine clattered into view, propelled by a pair of horses that were being lashed by the driver. A squat contraption, belching steam from a large chimney in the centre, it only just squeezed along the alley. It was followed by several other men, hurrying to keep up.

‘Out the way! Out the way!’ shouted the driver. He brought the horses to a halt beside the gate and unhitched them. Two of the other men uncoiled the hosepipes, while another pushed open the gate, to be greeted by a wave of heat from inside.

‘Bloody ’ell! Get a move on and get that water goin’!’

They barged through the gate and into the yard, hauling the hosepipes. The whole of one side of the yard was ablaze, the flames reaching twenty feet into the air. Gedge wondered if they had been storing something more flammable than wood in the shed. He could see the house’s occupants gathering by the kitchen door. One of the men went to speak to the leading fireman, but was told to keep back for his own safety.

There was a cry from the men in the alley operating the steam-powered pump, and a few seconds later, jets of water sprang from the nozzles of the hoses. And now, another bell could be heard; a second fire-engine was on its way, apparently approaching from the other end of the alley. Some of the firemen from the new engine ran ahead and into the yard to assess the situation. The first two hoses seemed to be making little impact on the fire, so more water would help; but now there were more than a dozen people packed into the narrow space, all seemingly shouting at once.

Gedge touched Darius on the arm. ‘Now’s our chance. Come on.’

He made sure his revolver was tucked securely into his waistband and stepped through the gate, followed by the Parthian.

Behind them, another set of hoses from the second fire-engine was being dragged through. Gedge and Darius approached the house, between the firemen. There was only one man from the house remaining outside; a thickset individual who stood by the kitchen door. As they got nearer, Gedge recognised the characteristic bulge that showed he was carrying a pistol. The man was taking no notice of them, apparently entranced by the inferno and the attempts to control it. With Gedge obscuring the firemen’s view, Darius came up behind the man and clamped one hand over his mouth, while the other arm snaked around his torso, grasping both forearms so that they could not move. After a few seconds of squirming, the man wilted. Darius pulled him behind one of the shrubs on the other side of the yard.

The kitchen door was standing slightly ajar. Gedge nudged it a little wider and carefully craned his head around to get a view of the room. The door creaked a little, making him wince. He saw only one figure in the room; a thin man in braces who was occupied at the sink and had his back to the door.

The man spoke over his shoulder.

‘Any sign of them bringin’ it under control yet, Jackie?’

Gedge threw himself across the room. At the last minute, the man half-turned, but Gedge was on him, thrusting his stomach into the rim of the sink, forcing the wind out of him. A blow on the back of the head from the butt of Gedge’s revolver did the rest. Two men down. How many more? And where was Hannah, and any other girls who might be held here?

Just off the kitchen, Gedge opened a door to a flight of stairs leading down into a basement. There was a light on down there, but they also heard muffled sounds from somewhere upstairs.

Darius whispered. ‘Do we go down, up, or split up?’

‘We’ll have to split up. We can’t risk going the wrong way and letting them get away with Hannah. I’ll take the basement and you check upstairs.’

The Parthian made off instantly. Gedge slowly picked his way down the staircase. At the bottom, a narrow passage led off to the right, and, after a few feet, seemed to open out into a room, from where the light was shining.

He moved towards the light. It was especially cold down here, and to add to the chill, a sudden thought struck him: what if they were too late? What if the attentions of Gedge and his friends had become too much and they had murdered Hannah prior to escaping? What if her body was lying in that room just a few steps away? He stopped in his tracks for a moment, then gathered himself and strode into the room, revolver drawn.

It was no dungeon or cell. Illuminated by a single oil lamp hanging in the centre of the room, boxes and crates were stacked around two of the walls, while the others bore shelves containing tins and bottles. Far from being a sinister place of imprisonment, this was just an underground pantry. Cursing under his breath, Gedge turned on his heel. But before he had even made it to the foot of the stairs, he heard a loud thud and several voices from upstairs. Darius!

He hared up the stairs, two at a time. Turning left at the top, he ran for the ornate main staircase leading to the upper floors. As he passed through a doorway, something caught the edge of his vision and in an instant he realised his mistake. His trailing foot struck something solid and he pitched forward, landing face first on the carpet near the bottom of the stairs. The gun jerked out of his hand and skittered several feet away. He saw a dark form loom over him and scrambled to get to his feet. But he was seized and hurled into the broad and unyielding wooden post at the foot of the stairs.

He collapsed onto the floor but was immediately pulled upright from behind, by what felt like a huge pair of hands.

Ackerman appeared in front of him, smiling.

‘Well, well. Lucas Gedge. Unlike me, it looks like you’ve let your military training slip. Schoolboy mistake. Running through a doorway like that without checking. And I’m afraid your big mate upstairs has fared no better than you. But of course your main concern will be your daughter. I must say, she’s a frisky little thing. Led us quite a dance for a bit. But you’re a little late, old son. Her and the others are in someone else’s care now. We moved them a bit early. You’re as far away from finding her as you ever were. I reckon it’ll be a toss-up, whether father or daughter will meet the most grisly end.’

Gedge’s face was bloodied, one eye blackened.

‘Naseby has her, eh? Your tame Special Branch man?’

‘Oh, so you’ve found out about him? Well, you’re hardly in a position to do anything about it, are you now? Of more immediate concern for you is the gentleman restraining you at the moment. His name is Ahmed. He’s a Turk. Not only big, but tough as old boots. Doesn’t say much, but doesn’t need to. He’s a sensitive soul, though, and he’s been a little bit emotional ever since someone did for his twin brother Oz the other day. Nasty business. He bled to death, stuck in a window-frame over Bethnal Green way. I said at the time that I wouldn’t like to be in the shoes of whoever did that to Oz when Ahmed catches up with him. And now he has.’

Gedge lashed out with his foot, but the man behind kneed him in the small of the back. A starburst of pain spread across Gedge’s midsection, and he fell to his knees. Ackerman bent down and grasped a handful of Gedge’s hair, wrenching his head up and glaring into his face.

‘Whatever indignities, whatever agonies your daughter goes through, it’s all down to you, Gedge. You should have stayed out of it. But it doesn’t matter now. You won’t have much time to worry about her, once Ahmed’s taught you the error of your ways.’

Gedge was past responding. He had passed out. Ackerman scoffed and let go of his hair. Gedge’s head flopped forward like a rag doll.