The Monster Within (2 page)

‘No-one would disagree with you,' Mrs Dudley said. She was a large woman, around
sixty years old, and wore a voluminous green dress. ‘But the Valkyrie Circle is only
one organisation. The Primrose Society, on the other hand, is dedicated to peaceful
change, as are dozens of other similar groups.'

‘I'm not suggesting the Primrose Society is involved in the bombings,' Mr Doyle said.

‘I know you're not, but others are.'

Greystoke spoke up. ‘Scotland Yard does not believe your organisation has done anything
wrong.'

‘But the new laws proposed by the government will make every suffragette organisation
illegal,' Mrs Dudley said. She turned to her husband. ‘William?'

Mr Dudley, bespeckled, and skinny as a twig, produced the front page of
The Times
.
It depicted a woman being arrested by police for picketing on the street. ‘Surely
any fair-minded individual would agree this to be preposterous,' he said.

‘That
is
unfortunate,' Greystoke admitted.

‘More than unfortunate. The banning of organisations such as the Primrose Society
sets the women's rights
movement back years,' Mrs Dudley said. ‘It labels us as dangerous
radicals.'

Jack caught Scarlet's eye. She was a firm believer in women's rights; that they should
have the vote, equal representation in parliament and the same employment opportunities
as men. Initially, Jack hadn't thought much about it, but his friendship with Scarlet
had gradually opened his eyes.

‘And this establishes a dangerous precedent,' Mrs Dudley continued, ‘declaring the
assembly of twenty women or more to be unlawful. Groups of more than ten in a peaceful
march can be arrested without charge. Women can be issued with an order to not leave
their homes.' Her eyes narrowed. ‘If we start infringing upon the rights of one part
of society, how long will it be before other sections are similarly persecuted?'

‘I cannot disagree with you,' Greystoke said, turning to Mr Doyle. ‘What do you think,
Ignatius? You must have some thoughts on the matter.'

‘I do.' Mr Doyle took a piece of mouldy cheese from his pocket, sniffing it dubiously
before popping it into his mouth. ‘It seems to me that the Valkyrie Circle has operated
in a rather uncharacteristic fashion.'

‘If you can call blowing people up
uncharacteristic
,' Jack muttered. ‘It sounds more
insane
to me.'

‘The organisation has been operating for about ten years,' Mr Doyle said. ‘For most
of that time, it has been peaceful: sending letters to newspapers, painting the letters
VC
in public places all over London.' His face
clouded over. ‘But all that changed
twelve months ago when the first bomb exploded.'

Jack had seen the letters painted a hundred times over the last year. He had seen
them so many times, he had stopped noticing them.

‘This attack coincided with a change in leadership,' Mr Doyle continued. ‘Its new
leader is a woman by the name of Lady Death.'

Lady Death
, Jack thought.
What a terrible name.

‘We have never been able to get a description of her,' Greystoke said. ‘On the rare
occasion when we've arrested a woman painting their trademark on a wall, she claims
to be working alone.'

‘Which is probably true,' Mr Doyle said. ‘The Valkyrie Circle may be very small,
but it has inspired many more to carry out violent acts in its name.'

‘There have since been seven other bombings,' Greystoke added. ‘And they're becoming
more frequent and deadly. It was a miracle the Carmody Street bombing did not take
more lives.'

‘But taking away the democratic freedom of an individual is wrong,' Warren Dudley
said. ‘And where will it end?'

Greystoke was stuck for words. Clearly he was inclined to agree with at least some
of what the Dudleys had to say. Casting a helpless glance at Mr Doyle, he said, ‘I
must follow the rules as laid down by my superiors. My hands are tied.'

‘Surely you can do something to help,' Mrs Dudley
said to Mr Doyle. ‘Investigate
these crimes. Bring the Valkyrie Circle to justice—for everyone's sake.'

Mr Doyle nodded. ‘I will do what I can,' he said. ‘The people behind these bombings
must be brought to justice. And I agree with you: the new laws suggested by the government
are
unjust. It is just as important—probably more so—to protect the innocent.'

The Dudleys rose to their feet. Mr Doyle told them he would be in touch and showed
them out.

‘Just between us,' Inspector Greystoke said on his return, ‘there are two other items
I would like to discuss.'

‘Of course.'

‘We have a clue, but we have not been able to do anything about it. As you know,
dynamite has been used for each detonation. Some of the bombs have been the size
of small parcels, others as big as a truck.

‘The third bomb placed by the Valkyrie Circle did not detonate.'

‘I didn't know that.'

‘We kept its existence secret so we could use it as evidence in court. Placed in
a letterbox in central London, the device failed to detonate properly, and we were
left with a mostly intact bomb.'

‘What did you find?' Jack asked.

‘The timing device is quite sophisticated. And quite distinctive. Unlike many timers
that are modified clocks, this one was built from scratch.'

‘That requires good metal-working abilities,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I think I see where
this is going.'

‘Hmm,' Jack said. ‘I don't.'

‘Every bomb maker has their own signature,' Mr Doyle explained. ‘They have their
own way of making the device. It's understandable when you consider how dangerous
it is to construct a bomb. Once they find a method that works, they stick with it.'
He studied Greystoke's face. ‘I assume you have a lead on the bomb maker's identity?'

‘Not so much a lead as an avenue to pursue. You're familiar with Bruiser Sykes?'

‘I am,' Mr Doyle said, turning to Jack and Scarlet. ‘Sykes was a career criminal,
a gang leader operating in the West End for several years. It was through my efforts,
and those of Scotland Yard, that he was finally jailed for his crimes. He got his
nickname through his early days as a standover man.'

‘Do you think he's working with the bomber?' Jack asked the inspector.

‘No, but Bruiser Sykes knows anyone who's anyone in the world of crime. He once had
a team of safe-crackers working under him that broke into a dozen banks. If anyone
would recognise the timing device, it's him.'

‘So how can I help?' Mr Doyle asked.

‘We've already approached Sykes,' Inspector Greystoke said. ‘But he won't speak to
us. He has, however, asked to speak to you.'

‘Me?' Mr Doyle said. ‘Why?'

‘I have no idea. He will not explain.'

Mr Doyle nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then I will make an appointment to see Sykes at the
jail,' he said. ‘In the meantime, can you have the remains of the timer sent to me?'

‘Of course.'

‘And you mentioned a second matter?'

‘You may have heard about the formation of a new branch of Scotland Yard?'

‘The Wolf Pack?'

‘What a strange name,' Scarlet said.

‘It's named after the man in charge,' Greystoke explained. ‘Detective Inspector James
Wolf. Many of its members are not even members of the police force. They're military
men conscripted for security reasons.'

‘Security reasons?' Mr Doyle said. ‘What do you mean?'

Greystoke looked embarrassed. ‘There was a rumour going around the Houses of Parliament
that Scotland Yard had been infiltrated by the Valkyrie Circle,' he said. ‘It's made
them paranoid.'

Mr Doyle scratched his chin. ‘While a certain amount of secrecy is a good thing,
suspecting the people entrusted with keeping you safe is dangerous. What do you suggest
we do?'

‘Just watch your back, Ignatius,' Greystoke warned. ‘There are difficult times ahead.'

The inspector shook hands and left the apartment. After he'd gone, Gloria Scott,
the young, blonde-haired receptionist and live-in housekeeper, appeared in the
doorway.
‘There's someone here to see you, Mr Doyle,' she said. ‘It looks like another case.'

‘They haven't made an appointment?'

Gloria gave a small smile. ‘I'm not sure he knows how,' she said. ‘He says it's very
urgent.'

Mr Doyle raised an eyebrow. ‘Then I suppose we must see him. Send him in.' He turned
to Jack and Scarlet. ‘I wonder what this is about.'

CHAPTER THREE

‘Here he is,' Gloria said. ‘Toby Grant, Esquire.'

The client was a thin young boy with brown hair and freckles. His shirt was clean,
but threadbare, and his pants were too short. He wasn't wearing any shoes.

‘I see,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Please take a seat, Toby.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

After the detective had introduced everyone, Toby looked at Jack and Scarlet with
admiration. ‘Are you detectives too?' he asked.

‘We assist Mr Doyle in his investigations,' Scarlet said. ‘But yes—we're in training.'

‘What can we do for you?' Mr Doyle asked. ‘I see you've come all the way from Whitechapel.
Does your
mother know you're here?'

Toby's mouth fell open. ‘How did you know I'm from Whitechapel?'

‘There is a patch on your pants bearing the logo of a fruit shop in that area. In
addition, your belt is made from a type of rope that is only sold from a shop in
Raven Row.'

‘Wow.'

‘Best get used to that,' Jack said, smiling.

‘And your mother…?' Mr Doyle prompted.

‘She's the one who told me to come here.'

‘Really?'

‘Well…' Toby said. ‘She said I could solve the mystery. I heard Mr Jones, the storeowner,
talking about you and I knew you'd be the person to see.'

‘You're not at school?'

‘Mum can't afford to send me.'

‘Oh dear.'

Jack understood the detective's concern. He had just been speaking earlier that week
about the importance of education and how it led to a better life.

‘We'll make certain you return safely home,' Mr Doyle said. ‘But first—what exactly
is the mystery that has brought you here today?'

‘No-one else believes me,' the boy said, frowning.

‘About what?'

Toby looked about fearfully. ‘There's something I've seen,' he said. ‘Something at
night.'

He went on to explain how he and his mother, Sally,
lived in a small alley off the
high street. His father had died from tuberculosis. His mother worked in a garment
factory, sewing cloth, while Toby helped to pick up the finished garments and pack
them into boxes.

At night, they walked the short distance to their home, where Sally made dinner and
helped him with his reading and writing. Soon after they would turn in for the night
and the cycle would begin again the next day. They worked six and a half days a week,
with only Sunday afternoons to spend at the park.

‘A few weeks back I woke in the middle of the night,' Toby explained. ‘It was raining
outside. The noise was terrible, like. Thunder and wind. I was scared. Out my window
at the alley there was a flash of lightning…and then I saw it.'

‘You saw…what?' Jack asked.

‘The monster.' Toby's eyes were round as saucers. ‘It was big. Maybe ten feet tall,
with huge hands, and his face was all mixed up.'

Scarlet leant forward in her seat. ‘How do you mean?'

Toby indicated. ‘One eye was up here, but the other was down near his mouth.' He
shuddered. ‘He was terrible to look at.'

‘And what happened then?' Mr Doyle asked.

‘I watched him go up the alley, looking in rubbish bins. ‘Then he went onto the high
street and came back a few minutes later.' Toby swallowed. ‘And guess what he was
carrying.'

‘What?' Jack asked breathlessly.

‘A cat.'

‘A cat,' Jack repeated the words in confusion. ‘Why?'

Toby pointed to his mouth. ‘To eat, of course,' he said. ‘Why else would he have
it?'

Mr Doyle sat back in his chair and formed an arch with his fingers, thinking for
a long moment. ‘I must tell you, Toby, that I have rather a lot on at the moment,'
he said. ‘Sadly, I can't spare the time to investigate your… monster.'

‘Oh.' The small boy looked crestfallen.

‘However, I believe I can still help you.' Mr Doyle indicated Jack and Scarlet. ‘My
young assistants will take on your case.'

‘We will?' Jack asked.

‘Absolutely.' Mr Doyle turned to Toby. ‘I'll get Gloria to look after you for a few
minutes while they gather their things.'

After Mr Doyle had led Toby away, he returned to find both Jack and Scarlet wearing
puzzled expressions. ‘Confused?' he asked, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.
‘I hope you don't mind helping young Toby.'

‘We don't mind at all,' Scarlet said, digging Jack in the ribs. ‘Do we?'

‘I'm just not sure how we can help,' Jack said. ‘Where do we begin?'

‘You'll know when you get there,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Oh, just one thing.'

‘Yes?'

‘Be careful. That part of the city can be quite unsafe. Keep your wits about you.'

Jack and Scarlet went to their rooms to get ready. Mr Doyle's apartment was on the
top floor of 221 Bee Street. Many of the rooms were without ceilings: it was possible
to peer up into the roof to see the maze of rafters and steam pipes.