Thank you all for the fantastic response to my totally unscientific market research to analyse which what percentage of my followers were interested in the "HORROR" component of my story.
Well the results are in...around 10%. And thank those of you who pre-ordered as a result of that sample. As promised, the conspiracy part of Louisiana Blood is another area I’d like to analyse.
So here’s a chapter in which the conspiracy of Jack The Ripper is plotted and launched...unbeknownst to the conspirators they have been overheard...
Please feel free to like the post if you are a conspiracy nut, and feel even freer to pre-order. I’m hoping to break the 50% funding line this weekend and any help is appreciated.
Click here to PREORDER
Okay, hold onto your hats...
LONDON 1888
Mary Kelly hurries through the streets. She’s terrified and constantly looks over her shoulder. She meets up with other woman, the women in the photograph along with Mary that are destined to become the first victims of Jack The Ripper. Mary Anne Nichols, Dark Annie, Long Lizzie and Catherine Eddowes.
“Over the next few days I told my friends about Fay and what I’d seen...at first they didn’t believe me...but that soon changed.”
***
A policeman knocks on the door to Mary’s house in Dorset Street and goes in.
“The police visited me...they made it very clear I couldn’t leave London under any circumstances...”
The policeman leaves the house. A young man steps from the shadows and raps on the door.
“And then I met Edward.”
A young man sits on a chair opposite Mary. Slim, with a sensitive face, and soft caring eyes.
“Journalists were in the habit of following police around in those days...especially after a murder, and I thought he was just another one of them after a scoop...but he seemed very concerned about my safety...so I listened to his story.”
PALL MALL GAZETTE OFFICES
The offices of the Pall Mall Gazette were situated in an impressive four-storey building that looked more like a court than the home of the famous newspaper it housed. It had been losing money for years and its owner Henry Yates Thompson took the decision to bring in the radical William T. Stead to assist him in his struggling editorship.
Stead immediately set about involving the Pall Mall in numerous sensational political crusades, Such crusades consolidated Stead’s journalistic power and, for a time, made the Pall Mall one of the most influential papers in London, with literary contributors that included George Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde.
But behind its grand façade a situation was developing that could spell the end of its illustrious history and the ruination of its editor W.T Stead paced the office. Two gentlemen sat opposite his desk. A Lamson Pneumatic tube system, an impressive brass device for sending messages via tube throughout the offices, glinted on the wall behind him.
One of the seated men was George Monroe, a thick set and intense looking individual, the Assistant Police Commissioner, a secret agent and head of Section D, the political intelligence branch of CID.
The other man sat with his face in half shadow, smartly dressed and with a military bearing. Known only by his codename Triton, secret agent to Queen Victoria. Stead is red in the face and furious. The veins pulse in his forehead as he wipes sweat from his face with a sodden silk handkerchief.
“Do you have any idea what you are suggesting!”
Triton speaks with an icy calmness and absolute authority.
“I am not suggesting anything...I am relaying a specific policy that you will be assisting us with...”
Stead leant over the desk.
“Assisting! Damn it man what you’re proposing is insane!”
Triton steepled his fingers and fixed the sweating editor with cold appraising eyes.
“There is an element of the situation that may give that perception I’ll grant you.” Stead mopped his brow. “And if I choose not to assist you with your...policy?”
Triton looks at him. Not an option. He motions to Stead to sit down.
“Let me explain the reality to you.” Stead slumped back in his chair like a fairground balloon that had lost its air.
“I’d be obliged to you I’m sure." His sarcasm wasn’t lost on Triton. He pulled out a small pocket diary. Consulted it, cleared his throat and began speaking.
“Your publication appears to be a well respected and profitable enterprise...however...” He ran his finger down a line of figures that spread down one of the pages.
“Your latest bank position shows a deficit running at several thousand guineas...a condition your competitors might view as parlous...should they find out...”
Stead sprang to his feet. “How the hell...?” Triton fixed him with an icy stare. “Please sit down Mr Stead...” the editor slumped back in his chair. Triton continued.
“Your involvement in the purchase of a thirteen year old girl for sale into prostitution was ill judged, and could, with the relevant testimony still prove fatal to both your private and public life...” Stead looked up.
“That’s all dead and buried...I served my time for Eliza.” Triton shot him a thin-lipped smile.
“Nothing remains buried if we wish to exhume it Mr Stead...we can bring witnesses forwards that will crucify you...and believe me, there will be no resurrection....”
Stead’s face crumpled. Triton nodded. “I’ll take your silence as acquiescence...now Mr Monroe...do you have any issues with our plan?”
Monroe rubbed his hands together as if washing them clean of any responsibility. “What makes you so sure it will work?” Triton fixed him with eyes that missed nothing.
“It will work because we have the full backing of her majesty and all the resources necessary to carry it out. Warren will not be Commissioner for much longer ...we’ll see to that, and the position will be yours...as a result of our endeavours the police force will be adequately funded, properly staffed and given the respect it so badly needs.” Monroe pulled at his collar like it was choking him. “I agree it could do with all you are suggesting...it’s just...well if this ever got out...” He trailed off.
Triton straightend up in his chair. “As you must be aware the incident involving the Duke of Clarence was an unfortunate situation...a jealous rage...common amongst people of that class...had it not been witnessed we could have controlled the situation...”
Monroe nodded. Licked dry lips. “The Kelly girl...is she willing to comply?” Triton slipped his diary back into his pocket. “All of the girls involved have been promised a new life and travel to America where they will be safe...after all, it wouldn’t do to have our supposed victims wandering around the streets.”
The Assistant Commissioner gave a sharp laugh. “No...quite.” Triton looked at him. The smile died on his face.
“Their deaths will be orchestrated ...identification will be arranged and the bodies of some unfortunates we already have in storage...will be...well...you’ll read about them in the papers.” Stead suddenly looked across, as if realizing the depth of his involvement. “What is my role in this?”
Triton gave him a pitying look. “My dear William you will be producing the copy of your life...you’ll be notified of the time and place of the murders and the most accurate details...your circulation will go through the roof...along with your bank account and personal fortune...you will of course be selling your soul...”
Stead looked at Triton, his eyes cold and wide with disbelief at the scope of his power. “Do you have a conscience?” Triton chuckled. “I save it for special occasions, and I never bring it out in matters of state... ”
“Do you have a name for the fiend who’ll be terrorising these poor unfortunates?” Triton stood up and moved towards the door. “I leave that to you...”
Monroe got up. “And who will be ah...doing the work?” Triton smiled. “I have a pair of villains that have no option other than to do my bidding.” Stead threw the sodden handkerchief into a waste bin. “And what about their trustworthiness ...what’s to stop them selling their story to some other tabloid?” Triton leaned towards the editor. “Their fear of death Mr Williams...it’s a powerful argument don’t you think?”
***
In the LAMSON TERMINAL ROOM Where the pneumatic tubes that sent messages shooting around the building terminated, Edward listened to the voices coming from an open brass tube marked “Editor”.
And on that bombshell! Have a great weekend and if you’d like to send me a LIKE or PREORDER I’m grateful.
Thanks everybody, your responses were really great! It seems that a whole bunch of you are into the horror angle so here’s a little treat. Another scene where our dastardly slice and dicers are up to their elbows in the governments dirty work...the birth of Jack The Ripper!
As ever, if you want to boost me over the quill Frontier that’s great...I’m only a few pre-orders away from 50% funded. HIT HERE TO HELP
Also a good friend of mine is racing to climb higher in the Nerdist Space Opera contest with SPACE TRIPPING, so if you have any credits burning a hole in your spacesuits why not give him a boost! HERE
Okay...put on your butchers aprons to avoid blood splatter on your souls!
“And so it was, the plan unfolded and the bodies were dumped... “
LONDON STREET
Inside a dark carriage swathed with dark blue velvet a knife slashes at a hanging body inflicting mutilations...blood drips from the corpse...
The body that will be identified as Dark Annie, is taken from the carriage and placed stealthily in Hanbury Street. Whistles are blown. Across London a carriage waits outside an Ice Factory. Inside a body is taken from a room wreathed in cold vapour.
Another body, to be identified as Long Liz is dumped in Berner Street.
A boy sells newspapers on the corner of the street Their lurid headlines chart the spread of fear, and the arrival of the Letter From Hell...signed by Jack The Ripper...and so history is forged in the crucible of their lies.
***
She lay in his arms. For the first time in a long while she felt safe. She’d listened to his story, the corruption and the plans he’d heard them discussing. She knew that sooner or later they would come for her. It was only a matter of time. She’d been with many men in her short life, some of them kind, a lot of them cruel and some of them so disgusting in their demands she sometimes felt she would never be able to wash herself clean again. But lying there in the dark, naked and enveloped in Edwards gentle arms, for the first time in her life she realised the love she had been missing.
She found it hard to believe that even amongst the terror in this dark time, love could find the necessary sustenance to bloom like a rose in the night. Amongst the flickering shadows thrown by candlelight Kelly’s eyes sparkled with love for Edward, her feelings for him surged through her. “It came as a shock to me...that after all the bad times that I’d had with men...I was able to love again...and with such passion...but we both knew that time was running out...”
***
Kelly and Edward hurriedly pack some things, getting ready to leave. He gives her a lingering kiss. “I won’t be long. We’ll be on the boat tonight bound for Ireland. Your friends in Limerick will meet us when we dock and we can stay with them till we sort ourselves out.
Edward opened the door, gave her a last look and left. She watched him go. In her hand she held a pocket watch, a silver half hunter that he’d given her so she would know when to be ready for his return. She ran her finger over the initials E.D, engraved into the back of the watch before sitting down on the edge of the bed to await his return.
***
The carriage stood in the shadows. The horses snorting vapour into the cold air...eyes rolling, hooves shivering against the cobbles, as if they were aware of what was taking place inside.
He bent over the body that lay slumped inside the carriage. The unyielding flesh already stiffening. His knife was sharp and sure as he hacked through the pale flesh beneath him. His eyes black and dead, face a mask of madness Tumblety becomes more violent with each sweep of the knife...his hands stroking the dead flesh, caressing the wetness beneath his fingers like a lover. Then the knife goes back to work. He reached into the cavern he had created in the body. His mouth a grim slit.
This was the part he loved the most. The level of intimacy with another human that could never be achieved while they were alive…that’s what made this special for him. He reached in and swiftly identified the organ by touch alone. He lifted it up, cut the skeins of fibrous muscle that held it fast. Dropped it into the glass jar he held ready. It slid inside with a glutinous sucking sound. He sealed the lid shut. Now he just needed to place the remains for maximum effect. He rapped twice on the roof and he heard the coachman snap the whip. The carriage lurched and soon the wheels clattered on the cobbles and they headed into the night.
Mitre Square was deserted at that time of the morning. Even the women of the night had long since given up their trade. The dank grey fog that swept across the slick cobblestones served to hide the coach that stood waiting. Tumblety carried the shapeless lump over his shoulder as he moved quickly over to the opposite side of the street and laid the corpse down against the brick wall of the house.
He had to be quick, and set the scene for the luckless person that would stumble on the ghoulish sight. He arranged her skirts, exposing bloodied flesh and draping the gleaming entrails around her neck like some grotesque wet necklace. Pleased with his work he moved quickly across the street and climbed back into the carriage. The coach clattered through the fog leaving swirling curtains of vapour behind as it disappeared from sight.
Kelly sat on the edge of the bed with her hand resting on her packed case. She didn’t need to look at the watch to realise something was wrong. Edward should have been there by now. Something was happening outside. She stood up…the door was kicked in. A group of men burst into the room. Two of them are Dr Tumblety and Dr Neil Cream. A burly man grabs her and clamps a hand over her mouth. She could smell the whisky on his breath as he leaned over her. “Just keep quiet and don’t struggle and everything will be just fine.” Two more men carry a body in and place it on the bed. Kelly stares at it with horror. Her eyes darting to and fro between the Doctors as they unroll a leather tool pouch packed with surgical instruments.
Her eyes widened as Tumblety hacked into the body’s face…blood sprayed across the wall. She’s dragged out into the street by two men and bundled into a waiting carriage and driven off at speed.
***
Cream and Tumblety hack at the meat on the bed. No longer human, the corpse has become an anatomical specimen. Cream halts for a moment breathing heavily. He looks around and back down at their handiwork. The shadowy candle light reveals blood splatters gleaming on the wall...light reflects off the glistening organs strewn around the bed. He covers his mouth, dry retching before he brings it under control. He turns to Tumblety. “Jesus! Isn’t this enough?” Tumblety stares at him...all human expression gone, eyes black sockets devoid of expression. “This is the last one...it has to be spectacular...and unrecognisable ...I want it so her own mother won’t recognise her...”
He leans forwards and slices deliberately, his tongue licking at his dry lips...he looks reptilian in the light from the fire and the candles... Cream turns away and throws up.
***