Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 3; Chapter 3 & 4

3.

If there were any concerns on the safety of ladies at the late night, it was not shown by the ladies who had their own concerns for their family survival. They took to the street as usual although the pickings were rather picking given the patrol by the vigilante groups in addition to the walking bobbies. Ever the first to volunteer for these tasks was one named Bernard Cairnwell. He was a widower; as claimed by him although no lady will take up to him for his look was foul like his breath and he has a nasty temper which accounted for his missing teeth. He had joined the vigilante group named the “Protector of the Streets’. They pay him in coins and a drink after the night patrol which was fine by his requirements. They were standing the four figures huddling by the corner with the street light over their heads when they saw the carriage passed by them. They could not make out the figures in the carriage but their eyes were alert. The carriage stopped ahead and then the wolf whistles went out to the lonely lady standing there waiting for her first coin. She saw the carriage stopped and then calls. She was wary whether to approach it. She was after all not dressed to ride on those carriages.

“Hey you, the gentleman called you.” The rider on the top there called her. “Are you selling?”

“I am not. I mean I am but not to you. You can find someone else.” The lady replied. She had heard of those who picked up the ladies on carriages. They come back bruised.

“They do you harm than good.”

The lady backed away. It would had been a simple turn away but then vigilante mob had arrived. One of the vigilantes named Burns had grabbed the rider by the pants leg and pulled him off the seat. Another one grabbed the horses to calm them down. Meanwhile Bernard had climbed into the carriage. He faced then was two young men dressed for the evening.

“Get off our carriage now or we have you flogged.” The threat was an insult to the brawler who then grabbed the nearest young man and slammed the head to the side of the carriage before pulling him off the carriage. He then reached for the second man who was kicking away with the legs like a lady in distress. He reached in and grabbed the groin before squeezing it hard. The young man screamed out and then was dragged out.

“Them fillies took to our street and harassed our ladies. I say we trounced them good and then sent them home with their head between the legs.” The beatings soon begin with the punches and kicks at the two helpless young men. The call for help soon attracted the bobbies who came to the rescue with the truncheon waving. Bernard called out to his mates to run, but he could not help but grabbed the watch from one of the young men. He fled the scene escaping into the alleys. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. It was his one other qualities; he could really run fast.

“Ouch!” Bernard bumped into the figure who was leaving the alley. He took no chance then and swung his left fist in reflex. He impacted on the hard muscles and then felt his body lifted by the other. He was thrown to the side like a sack of potatoes. He tried to get up but his body ached.

“Move, Igor. We are done here.”  

Bernard could make out the movement of two men and then he slipped into darkness. When he woke up next, he wished he had died. The bobbies at the station took turns on him with their billy jacks or truncheons. His body ached from the hits and it was happening form over three hours. He was still in his clothes but his personal contents were emptied. It was the watch that got him the worst beatings.

“Yes, that is him. I recognise him.” Bernard heard the accusations and from then it was the pain. He woke up some hours later when they poured cold water over his face. He could hardly open his eyes but he could make out the Inspector standing there with the bowler hat in the hands.

“Bernard Cairnhill, you are either a stupid bastard or one idiot to be caught there.” Inspector Niles then told the beaten man. “You are to be charged with the murder of Florence Gates who was sliced by you with the blade. We will also charge you with the other murders soon.”

Murder? It can’t be. Bernard cringed his body and then muttered some words that did not come out as one from his swollen lips.

“Spare your plea with the Magistrate. As it stands now, you are a dead man.” Inspector Niles smiled. “Your name is all over London.”

The name Bernard Cairnhill did hit the streets but the ones that could not read knew that the man was innocent.

“Bad Bernard was a ruffian but he isn’t no killer.” The pals of his owned up to his innocence.

“Bernard Cairnhill won’t hurt a rat if he ever sees one.” That was dismissed as a madman ranting.

“Bernard Cairnhill deserved to die.” That was the saying of the affluent.

“Bernard Cairnhill dead body or alive, it does not matter. We will want him for specimen.” That came from the Medical Faculty.

In the Mathematics Faculty Doctor Moriarty lowered the morning papers. He was intrigued by the capture, and the manner which the man was seen by the public. He looked to the other figure seated across him.

“Colonel Sebastian, does it interest you at all the persecution of one named Bernard Cairnhill?” The Doctor studied the man seated across him. He trusted the Colonel with his life which was valuable then. The Colonel was dressed in the casual suit well pressed and had his legs crossed. The six footers height Colonel played rugby at the Academy and was an avid game hunter. He was posted to the Dark Continent prior to his retirement. He came back to London raring for better sports. He saw the hunt for deserters rewarding especially when he dragged them in dead. He later found out that society have a need of him; the man to kill for money. His price was high but the task gets done. He was a loner until he met the Doctor who impressed him with the planning and execution.

“If we have you in Africa, we would have removed the other stake holders.” Colonel Sebastian though highly of the Doctor. To his remark, the Doctor had replied these words.

“Why fight at the borders when you could rule like a King here?”

Colonel Sebastian then resolved to be with the Doctor and his killings were more discriminatory.

“Do you want him killed?” The Colonel asked the Doctor. “I could do it anytime.”

“No, I actually want him alive. He can tell who the Ripper is?”

“I am unsure of your words, Doctor.”

“Bernard Cairnhill is a factor in the equation. He was at the crime scene prior to the discovery of the body. He was unconscious then. He was also beaten up, well not as bad after he arrived at the Station. All of those data tell me he may hold the final equation to the identity or leading to the identity of the Ripper.”

“So, I will break him out of the Station.” Colonel Sebastian offered the solution fast and direct; Osram Razor, the answer to the solution is direct approach.

“And you will do so but we need to make it looked like his friends broke him out. He can then be taken care and made into one of the Enforcers. His reputation now will augur for his future action.” Doctor Moriarty explained the plan.

“Formed the barricade.” Sergeant Yorke called out his voice hoarse. He had the call then from the constable that the rough boys were at it on the rich homes. They are creating havoc there to bring what they say is justice for the people. The Stations nearby had mobilised their strength to fortified the streets there. It was not a simple ‘rough the turf’ move but a full riot was building up.

“I say formed up. Your mothers have given you a good fed before and so have the Queen. So, sharpen up or it will be my boot on your balls.” Sergeant Yorke reminded his men. They had their fun with the suspect named Bernard Cairnhill and it was time to get back to normal tasks.

“I say Sergeant. Who is minding your larder?” Sergeant Yorke heard the call. He had left Constable Dell and Colin on guard duty there. After all, if some one turns up to make the report, there will be a constable to take the report.

“Bloody sods. Leave my …” It dawned on the Sergeant then. He knew then that he had taken the bait. Meanwhile at Station, Constable Dell and Colin were bundled into the sacks and then thrown into the cells. Bernard Cairnhill was dragged out screaming for his life before he was sedated and then bundled into the wagon. He was to wake up to a bosom lady who will tend to his wounds.

“Igor was the name he heard.” Doctor Moriarty got the name three days after. He was pleased with it and the affluent had one more reason to fear the lowly class people. They have not slept for two nights until the Army turned up to remove the barricades.

“Hello, son. Did we make you work for your pennies?”

“Mom, please go home. We have orders to shoot ye all.”

“They fed you food and you forgotten your mom’s milk. Bloody waste of my time to wait for your appreciation.”

So, it was but the affluent could then walked once more with their dogs while holding brollies. 

4.

Meanwhile at the Morgue, Inspector Steven Niles was perusing the report on the last victim; Susan Green, aged around early twenties of Whitechapel. Her body was cut almost similar to the last four victims including Maisie Duncan; the incision from the neck to the vagina, and the removal of the innards. The part that was not disclosed was the missing body parts; the liver, kidneys and heart. Those were removed with surgical precision.

“Tell me, Surgeon Frasier….” Inspector Niles was snapped there by the one he was addressing then.

“It’s John and you need not bring up my uncle’s name to ask me questions. He is creating the image of a new profession called criminal profiling. It’s an absurd notion, that we can study a criminal from the clues and assumed psychological qualities.” The surgeon in the forties age group looked up with the deep sunken eyes and protruding cheek bones and the thin sideburn that demarked his facial look well. He was related to Thomas Bond, who was reputed then to be the pioneer in criminal profiling. The man was given the credit during the Ripper’ original investigation.

“It’s a new methodology.” Inspector Niles defended the approach. “How goes your dissection?”

‘Yes, the body parts were removed. Unlike the Ripper case, done by my senior colleague, Thomas Reeds it was placed next to the body like offerings at the shrine. The innards were removed there as a process of accessing the body parts. We are not looking at the Ripper but the murderer is ripping off their body parts.”

“Thank you, and that was most informative.” Inspector Niles replaced the folder on the table. “Why was it not told to the papers?”

“Either you are an imbecile or you may not make it past Inspector. It was the instruction from the Surgeon General who got it from the Chief Commissioner and God knows who else was before that. It could be the Queen herself. Or the Germans to the Russians. Everyone wants to cover something up while we uncover it here.”

“Once again, thank you, and ….”

“Quit patronising me and ask your questions. I got a number of bodies to dispose off courtesy of your colleagues who had left them here.” The Surgeon went back to the sawing the leg off the body on the stone slab. He looked more like a butcher than a surgeon.

“I can read your mind, and I am not a butcher. I don’t sell the pieces I removed.”

“And …. yes, thank you, I will be on my way.” Inspector Niles then took leave of the Morgue. He met Inspector Weston on the way out. They exchanged pleasantries but did not speak on other matters. Inspector Weston met the Surgeon. The Inspector glared at the Surgeon who then offered the folder but he remembered the other Inspector had read the contents.

“Niles? He is a pervert.  He is also a misanthrope. He ought to be caged. Like the savage they discovered in Africa. And I hear he may be a lost Lord’s son. Such a hypocrite.” Weston then left and he took the fast carriage to house of one named Doctor Moriarty.

“One of my conditions of employing you that I don’t have to see you on every information you gather.” Doctor Moriarty reached for the sandwich on the small table. He was particular on the meal he was take. He had his meat lean with thin layer of fats on the side cut with precision by his Butler. The mustard light on the sides and a thin slice of tomato with the lettuce. And a sprinkle of pepper there. And the drink was the tall glass of lemonade, warm and stirred with a spoonful of honey.

“I am sorry, Doctor. Inspector Niles was at the Morgue. He is a …”

“He is competent. And he is not of mine. That is one result I cannot accept. I need to introduced in a new factor.” Doctor Moriarty placed the bitten sandwich on the plate. “It’s the mathematical approach. I cannot accept poor results.”

“I don’t understand, Doctor. I am …”

“I will be brutally honest. You are incompetent.” Doctor Moriarty looked at the Inspector. “And for that, you will lose your place in the world of equation of mine.”

Inspector Weston choked on the phlegm that was building in his throat. His hands reached for his neck where the thin wire was cutting into his flesh and stifling his breathing. He reached back to the person strangling him but his effort was futile. His body stiffened and then his eyes rolled up with the tongue rolling out.

“Thank you, Wong. If I was an artist, I will be inspired by the silent dead expression. The muscles on the face will contract in stages from the eyes lids to the lips and then the cheeks hollowed.” Doctor Moriarty reached for the sandwich. “It can be calculated with some fine mathematics formula.”

“Mine is much simpler.” The killer cum butler lowered the dead Inspector who was one head taller. The butler was a gift from a mutual acquittance, Emperor Fu Manchu whom he met and have the understanding to work together for the fulfilment of their aspirations. It was the words of the later, and the Doctor needed a butler.

“I believe your approach is called Occam’s razor.” The direct approach is the best approach. “Please do not leave any trace in the carpet.”

“Sir, there is a letter from one named Inspector Weston.” The Butler announced then.

“Yes, he is new. And you will allowed him into the house but only through the back door. And please do not serve him black tea. He likes them with milk.”

The Doctor likes to have his data known and then there will be no mistakes in his calculation of the results. There are deviations in the outcome for his data subjects may change its conditions like Inspector Niles.

The same can’t be said for the Chief Commissioner.

“Where is Bernard Cairnhill?” The elderly huge frame figure in the official uniform was heaving in deep with every breath. “I am due to meet the Mayor in an hour. It might bloody well be the Queen and my reply will be the same; I don’t know. So, who knows of the whereabout of Bernard Cairnhill?”

The seated officers there with an average of twenty years of enforcement service cringed below their collars. They have no clue at all. Then the knock on the door sounded.

“Chief Commissioner, there is a Lord Matthew Millard here to attend the meeting.” The Lord was admitted in and then given the opportunity to speak.

“I represent a section of the Government that worked on issues of national importance. The Queen does not want the matter to be discussed openly like the previous one which we have yet to resolve. The Queen have asked me to formed a special team with the authorization to act with extreme measures. They are assigned from the Services Section. I will personally supervise the officer on the field. You will all respond to my queries quick and pro bono. Am I clear?”

It was all the clearance Mycroft needed then as the assigned officer. He met Lord Millard later outside of the Station. They were seated at the café having their tea.

“I say, Mycroft Holmes sounded ….”

“Peculiar, Lord? You may have associated me with one named Sherlock Holmes. He is my brother but we do fall far apart from the apple tree.”

“Yes, Sherlock. Marvellous chap. Never met him but his reputation supersedes him.” Lord Millard took to sip at his tea. “He is a detective of sorts. Heard he is out of London and on some overseas trip.”

“Yes, is he? I don’t keep track of him. A dabble fool into the dangerous world of crime. I do say he may get himself killed one day but I won’t mourn him a day. No, Sir. He is the rotten apple in the basket.”

“Poor regard for the …. other sheep, I presume.”

“Absolutely, he is a fiend from the underworld. He never ought to be release then.”

“I find an amusement in your words on your brother. You do envy him?” Lord Millard looked at Mycroft.

“Absolutely, if the word I could find fits the bill. We do hate each other but he is family.” Mycroft smiled. Inside him, he disliked Lord Millard but he was to perform the task that required him to know the Lord and God knows, he will deal with the Lord himself who may the devil in disguise.