Blood Tribute (The Lucas Gedge Thrillers Book 1) (21 page)

T
he site
of the former prison at Clerkenwell now resembled some alien desert landscape. Most of the area had been levelled, and there were half a dozen huge piles of bricks and other debris from the demolition, each one at least forty or fifty feet high. A brown-pink dust covered every surface.

Gedge, Polly, Rondeau and Darius had taken a long way round to avoid a line of hansom cabs that were drawn up in a side street around the corner from the construction site. They presumed these were the transport for Ackerman’s clients. They had found it surprisingly easy to get through the wooden paling fence around the site, and were now picking their way across the weird barren expanse. Gedge was aware that the flat areas between the mounds of brick would be exposed to lookouts.

Darius was taking the lead, seemingly feeling no ill effects from his earlier beating. He was passing around the edge of one of the piles of detritus when he suddenly flattened himself into cover and motioned for Gedge to join him. He pointed ahead, and Gedge saw a low wooden building on the sheltered side of the next mound. A man was standing next to it, guarding the entrance.

Gedge kept his voice low. ‘It makes sense that they’d have a hut of some kind covering the entrance to the basement, to prevent it getting filled up with all this building rubble. That may well be our objective. But we will need to silence that man. We cannot allow him to raise the alarm.’

The Parthian raised the crossbow, drew back the string, and slotted a bolt into the groove. He brought the butt up to his right shoulder and aimed at the head of the man outside the hut. He had started to pace about, and Darius waited, waited until he had moved several yards to one side of the building. Darius gently squeezed the trigger. The crossbow made a soft swishing sound. The man’s head jerked backwards, and his body crumpled to the ground.

Gedge ran as fast as he could to the man. He tugged the body back behind the corner of the hut, so that anyone emerging would not immediately see him. He took the revolver tucked into the man’s waistband, and beckoned to the others, who came running over. Rondeau brought up the rear, puffing and blowing with the effort.

Gedge looked over the building. It was a simple wooden shack, about twenty feet by ten with a flat roof. Apart from the door there were two visible windows, but they had both been painted over. Some light issued out through gaps in the paint on the window-frames and around the cracks in the door.

He signalled for them all to remain silent, and crept up to the door.

He put his ear to the gap. Nothing.

He waited a few seconds, then tried the doorknob. It gave, and the door opened inwards with a slight creak. As it opened wider, Gedge caught sight of a second man seated at a table to the right. He was asleep, with his head on the table, emitting a soft, rumbling snore.

Gedge looked around the rest of the room. It contained just three more chairs and a few coats hung up on racks. At the back of the room, he could see the top of a staircase, the steps leading down.

Darius slipped into the room, stood behind the sleeping man and tapped him on the shoulder. With a grunt, the man came round, then started suddenly, as Gedge, Polly and Rondeau came into view. Before the man could make a sound, Darius clamped his hands over his mouth, and pulled him off the chair. Within a few seconds, he was sleeping even more soundly; bound, gagged and pushed up against the wall out of sight.

‘My friends,’ said Rondeau. ‘I fear I may be an encumbrance below. I suggest I wait here as a lookout, so that I may warn you if any more of our enemies arrive.’

Gedge nodded. ‘Okay, Claude. It may be cramped down there, and as you say, a lookout would be useful.’

Polly embraced her guardian for a moment and kissed him lightly on the cheek. As the other three made for the stairs, Rondeau settled himself in the corner of the room, so that the table and chairs gave him some cover and he could clearly see the door. He kept the pistol ready in his lap.

Gedge peered down the staircase. He could see that it ended in what looked like a softly lit corridor running off to the left. As the stairs were made of stone, they would be able to descend silently, although they had no idea what was around the corner. Gedge was thinking about making some sort of noise to attract the attention of anyone waiting there, when Polly nudged him. Out of the bag she always carried slung around her shoulder, she had produced a small mirror. She pointed down the stairs and whispered.

‘I’ll find out what’s down there. As long as nobody’s looking directly at the corner, this little mirror won’t be noticed.’

‘Be careful. Call out if you’re seen.’

P
olly padded
down to the bottom step. She could see that the walls were made of brick, and the light was provided by the flickering flames of torches mounted in wall sconces.

She inched the mirror around the corner, exposing as little of it as possible. It was only three by two inches, but she was nervous about anyone looking in its direction. She tilted it up and down, left and right, trying to translate what she was seeing into a proper picture of the corridor and beyond.

The lit wall sconces continued down one side. It was difficult to judge distance through the distorted view, but the passage seemed to open out into a larger chamber, with further corridors leading off it.

As she was about to tiptoe back up the stairs to report her observations, a reflection of a bulky form appeared in the centre of the mirror. A man, bundled up in an overcoat and carrying what looked like a rifle, had emerged from one of the side passages and was slowly walking up the corridor towards her, whistling as he came.

Polly withdrew the mirror and tucked it away. She flattened herself against the wall, still standing on the bottom step. Her right hand gripped the revolver, and she strained to quieten her breathing, so that she could better hear the man’s approach. Glancing up, she could see the worried expressions of Gedge and Darius at the top of the stairs.

The volume of the footsteps and whistling increased. She recognised the latter as the tune from the well-known bawdy music hall ditty,
The Tuner’s Opportunity.

He seemed to be on the point of turning the corner and seeing her. She could feel cold sweat forming at the small of her back. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Then, a female cry, from further back down the corridor.

‘George, come ’ere!’

The man stopped whistling and Polly heard him turn on his heels and walk away. She raised her left hand to her mouth, muffling the sound of her exhaling breath. Collecting herself, she beckoned to Gedge and Darius.

‘There’s at least two of them nearby. A man and a woman.’

G
edge cautiously looked
around the corner. Nothing to be seen. He could vaguely hear two voices in conversation. When the voices stopped, he waited for a few seconds and stepped into the corridor, gesturing for the others to stay.

He could now see that the corridor terminated in an octagonal chamber, with eight internal pillars marking the points of the octagon. Opposite, and at ninety degrees left and right, three other passages led away from the chamber. There was a black velvet curtain hanging down a few feet inside the corridor opposite.

As he approached the octagonal area, Gedge heard noises that sounded like floor-sweeping, and, risking a look round the corner, he saw a girl with her back to him, using a broom. The passage was lined with prison cells. The barred gates to the cells were all open and it looked like the girl was in the process of cleaning them out. At the end of the passage was a wooden door.

Gedge signalled for Polly and Darius to follow him, and they silently came up behind. He indicated that he would move out into the corridor of cells alone.

He stepped round the corner and walked towards the girl.

‘Excuse me? Can you help?’

The girl jumped and wheeled round to face him, hands gripping her broom. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘No need to be alarmed. I’m sorry to say I’m late for the auction. Is it through here?’ He pointed towards the octagonal room.

‘They’re all supposed to be here already, all the guests.’

‘Oh, your man upstairs checked my
bona fides
, I assure you. Is it through that curtain back there?’

‘I’m not sure about this. Wait a moment. George!’

At that, the wooden door at the end of the passage was pulled open and a guard emerged, with a rifle slung on his back.

‘Sally, what do you—’

He was brought up short at the sight of Gedge, and reached for the rifle. Gedge leapt at him, as Sally screamed. He knocked the guard down and landed a punch square onto one side of his jaw, then a second to the other side, knocking him out. Beyond the door was a small kitchen area. Gedge dragged the body in there and shut the door behind him.

Sally shrank away from Gedge. She had dropped the broom, and pulled a small dagger out of the waistband of her pinafore.

‘Get back! Don’t touch me.’

‘I don’t want to touch you, Sally. But you’re working for some very evil men. Now tell me, is the auction taking place through the curtain back there?’

‘Yes, but what’s it to you?’

‘My daughter’s in there. I’m going to get her out.’

The girl’s face changed; a sly smile replaced the grimace.

‘Is that Hannah yours? Handful, that one. They had to give her something to keep her quiet. They think you’re dead. Said they’d done for you, ’cos you’d been causing trouble for ’em.’

‘If that’s what they’re thinking, then good. Now, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to exchange pleasantries.’

He lunged forward, took the knife out of her hand, and bundled her into one of the cells. He ripped a piece of cloth from her pinafore and gagged her with it, before tying her hands and ankles and leaving her on one of the bunks.

Polly and Darius had been waiting in the octagon, out of sight. Opposite the corridor where he’d left the girl was another identical passage, again with cells either side, all with the doors open, empty.

‘This must have been where they were keeping the girls,’ said Gedge. ‘Before this so-called auction.’

‘It must have started by now,’ said Polly.

Gedge reached out, and slowly opened the curtain by a couple of inches.

‘Yet another passage beyond,’ he whispered. ‘There are more curtains running down the left side of it. Whatever’s going on must be behind there.’

As he pushed through, he heard a male voice, carrying from somewhere ahead.

‘And now, gentlemen, what you’ve been waiting for! We will bring the ladies in. Firstly, as a group, and then individually, for you to better appreciate the finer points. You will be able to bid at that stage.’

Gedge hurried up to the first curtain and pulled it back. Two men were sitting, with their backs to him, in a cubicle that reminded him of a private box in a theatre. They were looking out into an empty space in the middle of the chamber, where a dandified man wearing a coloured waistcoat was holding a piece of paper and looking on as a group of about twenty girls, all aged in their late teens, were prodded into the brightly lit central area.

Gedge could see the open fronts of similar boxes on the other side of the arena. They were dark, and he could only vaguely see the shape of people inside them. No doubt the clients valued their anonymity.

‘And here they are!’ said the dandy.

One of the seated men turned to see who had entered the back of his box.

It was Ackerman.

Snarling, he hurled himself at Gedge, throwing him back through the curtain and into the corridor. Darius and Polly moved to help.

‘He’s mine!’ said Gedge. ‘Get in there! Get Hannah and the other girls!’

D
arius readied
his crossbow as he ran into the box. On seeing him, the other man clambered over the waist-high barrier into the arena, wincing in pain. As he backed away, the Parthian noted that he was limping. It was Naseby, the Special Branch man.

The dandy, who had been shepherding the girls, brandished a revolver and aimed it at Darius. But he wasn’t quick enough. A bolt struck him in the neck and he fell to the ground, gurgling blood. Some of the girls started screaming. Darius had noticed that most of them were strangely docile, standing there swaying gently to and fro, with vacant expressions. Drugs, he presumed. Maybe the sight of the dying man on the floor was breaking through the fog in their heads.

He had lost sight of Naseby between the mass of girls, but then, with horror, he saw him pull clear of the crowd, holding one of the girls, with a dagger at her throat.

G
edge was pinned
to the floor in the corridor. His own gun had been knocked out of his hand and now Ackerman was reaching for it.

‘Gedge, I must applaud you for your resilience. Let’s end this here and now. I’m not going to let you spoil our plans.’

‘My friends may be spoiling them already.’

The sound of screams from behind the curtains seemed to give Gedge renewed strength. He freed his right leg and thrust his knee as hard as he could into his opponent’s thigh. Ackerman cried out in pain and Gedge took advantage by ramming a fist upward into his prominent jaw. He broke away and swept up the revolver from the floor.

Ackerman, dazed, pulled himself upright and stared at Gedge, who had levelled the gun at his head. A smile broke out on Ackerman’s face.

‘You’ll have to do it, Gedge!’

He hurled himself forward.

Gedge fired point-blank into Ackerman’s mouth. He was transfixed for a moment, as blood and brain matter sprayed out behind him onto the curtain. Then, he collapsed in a heap.

‘As you said, it’s dog eat dog. You’ve go to to be tougher than the other bloke,’ muttered Gedge as he jumped over the body.

He found Darius standing just outside the box, aiming his crossbow at Naseby. His heart missed a beat when he saw that it was Hannah being held at knifepoint in the middle of the arena. The other girls had shrunk away to the corners of the room.