Twenty-One

At first, Silas didn’t understand the complication, but as he sat in stunned silence, the implications began to sink in. He lost his appetite and pushed away his plate. Archer stood over Thomas who shook his head slowly, as shocked as Silas.

‘Did you know about all that?’ Silas asked.

‘Not all,’ Thomas replied. ‘I mean, I was aware His… Archer had a brother, but I’ve never met him. He was always away at school or naval college, holidaying in the country where I wasn’t needed. The last I heard, he was serving abroad.’

‘And he slashed you?’

‘It was intended to be more than a cut.’ Archer said. He left Thomas and paced the room, his waistcoat hanging open. His hair was still messed up from earlier, and he straightened it by dragging his fingers backwards over his head. ‘I have never seen so much anger in a man. His eyes were red with it, his reason distorted, and yet, he was my brother. That made no difference to him. As he drew his sword, I imagined it was because the enemy was on us, but I was the enemy, and before I could retaliate, he was hacking at me. Had the victory bugle not sounded at that moment and brought him to his senses, I would not be here today.’

‘Your brother?’ Silas couldn’t imagine attacking his sisters, no matter what they did.

Archer turned at the fireplace. ‘My brother, you may have gathered Silas, is not of his right mind.’

‘I’ll fucking say.’

‘He never has been, not really.’ He paced to his desk. ‘And he wasn’t away in the country, Tom. When he was not at school — or I should say schools, because he was constantly being moved from one to the next — my parents sent him to something akin to a correctional institution in the north. When that proved fruitless, it was military academy, and as soon as my father could arrange it, to sea.’

Archer leant on the desk with his arms folded staring at a silhouette on the opposite wall. No more than five inches high, a jet-black profile stood out from the white background. The likeness, not dissimilar to Archer’s, was framed in dark wood.

‘Poor Crispin,’ Archer said and looked away. ‘From an early age, he had a propensity for violence. He was sent from prep school at the age of nine for performing unspeakable acts on a boy in his dormitory.’

‘You mean queer sex?’ Silas asked.

‘No. He used the boy as a cadaver wanting, as he put it, “To see how it all worked”. Luckily, the boy’s screams alerted a master, and all he suffered was an incision.’

‘Where?’ Thomas asked, rising and taking Archer’s glass to him.

‘From his neck to his groin.’

‘That was your first clue, I take it?’ Thomas said, handing over the wine.

Archer took it. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ He waved the glass toward one of the wingback chairs. ‘Don’t worry about Tripp.’

Thomas sat, and Silas turned his chair to face the room, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped.

‘It didn’t strike me at first, Archer said, answering Thomas’ question once he was seated. ‘There was no reason why it should. “A murder in the East End”, was the first unremarkable headline and no-one took much notice. But, when the second killing took place, and more details of the first were released, the similarity reminded me of the incident. Both victims were cut in a similar pattern as inflicted on the schoolboy.’

‘I’m taking the sceptical view,’ Thomas said, ‘but even that similarity is not enough to make a definite connection.’

‘You are correct, and I appreciate your cynicism.’

‘It could be coincidence,’ Thomas reasoned further. ‘Or even, if you stretch your imagination, the boy himself, scarred internally by his torture as well as on the outside. Mrs Flintwich said her husband’s sister went mad, because of the way she was treated as a child.’

‘I don’t doubt there’s a lot of all that behind Crispin’s actions,’ Archer said. ‘Though I can’t think why. We shared the same childhood and parents, and I have only harmed a man when necessary. But no, the madman at work in Greychurch is not the boy from Crispin’s youth.’

‘It’s possible,’ Silas agreed. ‘How do you know?’

‘I can assure you, Silas, there are many boys who are now men who have suffered similar abuse behind the closed doors of public schools and military academies, let alone in Greychurch itself. So why not any of them? I did not immediately leap to the conclusion that this was my brother’s work, and although these consistent injuries wrenched the horrific reminder from my memory, I didn’t entertain the idea that the Ripper was my brother’s childhood victim.’

‘Because, there was no other connection but coincidence.’

‘Quite, Tom, but also, because I knew the Ripper could not be the boy my brother carved when he was nine. That boy became the man with whom I had my affair aboard The Britannia.’

‘Bugger me,’ Silas said. ‘So he got him in the end?’

‘That’s a bit callous, Mr Hawkins.’

‘Me apologies, Mr…?

‘I am a Payne.’

‘Don’t doubt it, but I’ll stick with Tommy.’ Silas winked. ‘But, Archie? Is that right? Your brother did all that?’

‘If I am correct, he has done much worse.’

‘Yeah, but if you went to the police, they’d understand, wouldn’t they? I mean, you’re a gent and you ain’t to blame for what he’s done.’

‘I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,’ Archer sighed. ‘I may not be my brother’s keeper, but I am the holder of his title. Being older than me by two years, he is or should be, The Viscount Clearwater. Because of his… condition, my father stripped him of the title, and it passed to me. But even that is not the point, although it is possibly connected. The point is, that a scandal surrounding a son or brother has repercussions for everyone. Firstly, the title, and then me, my mother and her side of the family, even down to the hall boy at the country house. Who would employ my staff if it was suspected they had served a murderer? And from pointing at us, the fingers of suspicion would slither like snakes to close friends, business associates, people like Doctor Quill who helped you today, Her Ladyship next door, the peers with whom I associate in the House, and on and on. The newspapers would lap it up, as would those in society who have held a grudge against us for whatever reason, and my whole house would collapse.’

‘Which is why you can’t go to the authorities.’

‘Exactly, Tom.’ Archer pushed himself from the desk and approached Silas. Standing before him, he said, ‘Along with the investigation would come a study of my private life. How long had I known? Why had I been to the East End? Who had I been with? “Where did you meet this young man, My Lord?” And the rest you can make up for yourself.’ He ran a hand over Silas’ cheek. ‘I would tell them the truth, because I am not ashamed of who I am or who you are, or that I am in love with you, but you know what happens to people like us.’

Silas nodded. He would be sent down, and Archer would probably have to leave the country.

‘I get it,’ he said. ‘Bloody unfair if you ask me. Right, I get why you haven’t gone to the bobbies, but like Tommy says, you’ve still only got coincidences. A few dead renters all happened to be cut in the same way. That doesn’t tell me why you think it’s your brother.’

‘Do you have a map of the area, Archer?’ Thomas stood and, lost in his own thoughts, approached the desk, scanning it.

‘I do, Tom, and I think you have just realised the same thing as I did.’

‘Britannia?’

‘There’s a new map in that cabinet.’ Archer pointed. ‘I have others but have defaced most with my attempts at finding a pattern. Silas, help me clear the table.’

Just when Silas thought the matter was done, he found himself clearing the supper to make room for Thomas to unroll a map. Archer held the corners flat with some of his curios, one of which was a figure of a naked man reclining that Silas thought daring to have on display, and the three stood leaning over the table.

‘Britannia?’ Silas said. ‘That was the name of your ship?’

‘Yes,’ Archer confirmed, following a road on the map and reaching a point where he stopped and tapped the paper. ‘Here. Where we were last night.’

‘Britannia Street,’ Silas leant in close to read. He knew Greychurch was thick with alleys and side streets, but until he saw them laid out, he had no idea how many. He wondered how he’d ever found his way around.

‘You could still argue coincidence,’ Thomas said.

‘You could if there was only the one.’

Archer put his arm around Silas sending a warm rush of pleasure through his bloodstream. With the viscount beside him, he was wanted and safe. It was hard to imagine what was going on at that very moment in the hash of black and white lines, smudged print and symbols that was the East End.

‘What are the others?’ Thomas prompted.

‘I need to take you through this in order,’ Archer said. ‘Silas, can you find the places where the murders happened, starting with Harrington Street?’

Silas pointed to it and then found roughly the place the first body had been discovered.

‘Remember,’ Archer said. ‘At this point, I knew nothing of this murder except that it had happened.’ Using a fountain pen, he drew a circle in red where Silas’ finger had been and underlined the street name. ‘When the second was reported…’ Silas found Simon’s Yard. ‘Thank you. More details of the first were also released, and the similar injury caught my attention, as did the location. That was when I first had the notion that this had something to do with Crispin.’

‘Location?’ Thomas spoke to himself as he looked between the two murder scenes.

‘There had been a fair gap of time between the two events,’ Archer said. ‘And there was a decent length between two and three. Enough time for me to think little of it other than coincidence. But when the third murder took place…’

Silas had already found Lucky Row, and he took the pen from Archer to circle the location and underline the name.

‘The unfortunately named Lucky Row,’ Archer said. ‘Micky-Nick.’

‘May I take some paper?’ Thomas asked moving to the desk. Archer told him to do whatever he needed, and he came back with several sheets of plain notepaper and a pencil.

‘It was murder number three that made me take a more studied approach,’ the viscount continued. ‘A third body cut open and, in this case, partially disembowelled. Another coincidence? There was still a chance I was wrong. Another reason not to go to the police. Whether I was correct or mistaken, I would still be attaching the family name to the crimes and the outcome would be the same.’

‘Would have saved another three deaths,’ Silas said and immediately changed his tone. ‘I’m sorry, Archie. I didn’t mean it to sound bad on you. I wasn’t criticising.’

‘You would be right to,’ Archer replied. ‘I knew that I needed to do something, but I couldn’t discuss this even with Quill or Lady Marshall. Again, a little time passed, but less than before, and then Master Chiltern was discovered in Britannia Street. It was then that I knew I had no choice but to act.’

‘But you still didn’t report your findings?’ Thomas questioned. Silas thought he would have made a good police inspector. He wasn’t afraid to challenge the boss.

‘No.’ Archer watched Silas highlight the locations of the fourth murder before he continued. ‘It was then that I drew up my plan.’

‘Which was to find someone who knew the area?’ Thomas asked. ‘Why?’

‘Because, there was no order,’ Archer explained. ‘Four deaths, all linked by the way they were butchered. Otherwise, seemingly random. The dates of the events mean nothing, and to the police, the locations also mean nothing, except that they are areas where renters operate. But, so are they areas where female prostitutes work. Why was he choosing boys? These are questions Inspector Adelaide is addressing, I should hope, but he will find only randomness.’

‘They’ve already attributed that to madness,’ Thomas said. He studied the names he had written on the paper. ‘He takes them by chance in the most private places he can find.’

Silas shivered at the thought of those places, the number of strangers he had gone to them with and how lucky he had been to come away unscathed.

‘It’s anything but madness.’ Archer sat at the table, and the others followed, pulling their chairs to sit either side of him facing the sprawling depiction of the East End. ‘Each location chosen so far has a paticular relevance to my brother.’

‘Does he live in the Greychurch?’ Silas asked. ‘Or Limedock?’ The horrible thought occurred that he may have encountered Archer’s brother in the past.

‘No. He is incarcerated overseas. Has been for years.’

‘Really?’ Thomas was surprised. ‘I was led to believe…’

‘That green baize door blocks many truths from infecting below-stairs,’ Archer said. ‘Crispin’s condition has always been one of them.’

‘So, if he’s abroad,’ Silas reasoned, ‘he can’t have done these killings. So why do these places make you think he did?’

‘Ah.’ Thomas blew a breath of realisation across the paper he held. ‘Simon Harrington?’

‘Was the boy victim from prep school and my late lover.’ Archer smiled weakly.

‘Britannia was the name of your ship.’

Archer nodded.

‘Lucky?’

‘Simon’s nickname.’

Silas swore under his breath. ‘Looks like you’ve got it sewn up there, detective,’ he said and nudged Archer.

‘I appreciate you trying to jolly me up,’ Archer said. He held Silas’ knee beneath the table, and the warm flush of happiness flowed again.

‘But the two last night?’ Thomas asked. ‘Do they confirm your suspicions beyond a doubt?’

‘Sadly not.’ Archer returned his attention to the map. ‘The police are quite correct that the murders are random,’ he said. ‘Even if they knew the significance of the locations, they are not in any logical order and thus do not help. Surname, Christian name, nickname and name of the ship in any sequence do not point onwards to the next potential crime scene where the man might be caught and brought in.’

‘Cornfield, wasn’t it?’ Thomas asked. ‘I haven’t had much time to read today’s news.’

‘Cornfield, yes,’ Archer agreed. ‘I went there today while waiting for information about Andrej and looked for clues as I did last night. I thought that by being there, I might notice some other connection, another street name, a house number, anything that might suggest where next. I did the same thing last night, but then I also wanted to understand what it was like out there under those conditions.’

He stroked Silas’ leg absentmindedly as he spoke.

Silas relinquished the pen to Thomas who marked the location on the map.

‘I found no clues at any place,’ Archer continued, watching Thomas draw. ‘Nor at Bishop’s Square which I think was the intended location. He came across a victim in Cornfield and intended to lure him to Bishop’s, but was disturbed. The boy had seen his face, and so he had to do away with him there and then. Not part of his plan, but a necessity. A short while later, while attention was elsewhere, he found what he was looking for and in the right place.’

‘I can swallow that,’ Thomas said, sitting back.

‘It isn’t a clue as such,’ Archer continued. ‘But last night led me to understand these random time differences. He is waiting for the right moment. These places are popular, in your previous line of work? Yes?’

Silas nodded. The word “Previous” suggested that the viscount expected an end to his current way of life, but he needn’t have been worried. Even if he was thrown out of Clearwater House tomorrow, he would not return to the East End except to find Fecker.

‘That’s what I suspected, Archer said. ‘It meant to me that he was prepared to wait until conditions were right, as you would if contemplating a battle at sea. I imagine he waited in the darkest places until a lone youth happened by an appropriately named place, and that suggests stealth and planning, not madness.’

‘He knows what he’s doing.’ Silas agreed.

‘But he slipped up last night,’ Thomas said. He rested back in his chair, his hands behind his head, deep in thought. ‘He let his… Is lust the right word? He let his lust for killing get the better of him, and if your theory is right, killed in the wrong place. Then again, he is leaving clues and maybe he wanted to throw you off the scent.’

‘Assuming he knows he has my attention.’

‘Pretty obvious to me,’ Thomas said, lurching forward and picking up his pencil.

‘How so?’

‘For a start, who else’s attention is he trying to attract by giving the name of the man you suspect he killed…’

‘Ah, no,’ Archer cut him off. ‘Sorry, I didn’t make it clear. I did, at the time, suspect Crispin had killed Harrington, but now I suspect my brother’s rage comes from the fact that Harrington took his own life before Crispin could exact his final revenge. Therefore, robbing him of the opportunity and exacerbating his madness. Now, he is exacting vengeance on other homosexual men, or those he considers somehow responsible for his own condition. I’m no student of the mind, so that is conjecture. But, I interrupted. Go on, Tom.’

‘Your reasoning makes more sense each time you speak,’ Thomas said. ‘Try this and tell me if this means anything to you.’ He drew a line from the scene of the first murder, diagonally left to the third. ‘Numbers one, three…’ Returning to the first point, he drew a second line diagonally right to Britannia Street and the scene of the forth. ‘Four,’ he said. ‘Two and five either side.’ He wrote the digits on his paper. ‘One, three, two five.’

Silas ran through possible combinations in his head, as he assumed Archer was doing. His eyes were alive and darting across the map, his lips, moving.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Numbers mean nothing. ‘Why should they?’

‘Because, if I do this,’ Thomas said, leaning over with the pencil. ‘And draw a line from murders two to five, it cuts straight through the other two lines…’

‘And makes the letter A?’ Silas was incredulous. ‘Bloody hell, that was lucky.’

Thomas looked across Archer to Silas. ‘What do you mean? It backs up the theory that the man is planning. He is committing the murders to spell out his initial. He wants your attention alright.’

‘It’s just a happy coincidence in a very unhappy matter,’ Archer said. He let go of Silas’ leg. ‘I think you’re looking for clues just to fit my theory, but I appreciate the thought, Tom.’

‘Yes, alright,’ Thomas said. ‘Maybe it was a prod in the dark. Where does it leave us? What has Bishop’s Square to do with anything?’

‘I like the way you say “us”, Tom,’ Archer said. ‘When we were at prep school, Simon Harrington and I were in Bishop’s House.’

Silas’ head was beginning to hurt. ‘But there’s no clue there telling us where he might go next?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Do any of the street names nearby mean anything?’ Thomas asked. He glanced at the map. ‘Lightfleet Lane, City Street, Downers End?’

Archer shook his head. ‘I’ve studied the map these past few nights and no, I cannot see anything else that’s relevant.’

‘Perhaps that’s the end of the matter then?’

‘I doubt it, Tommy,’ Silas said.

He too had been studying the map and Thomas’ drawn letter A in particular and had come up with a theory of his own.

‘What have you seen?’

Archer’s arm was around him again, an encouraging hand cupping his shoulder.

‘Tommy’s given us a letter,’ he said. ‘Kind of. The line through the middle goes outside of the upside down V. If you connect one, three and four…’ He drew a line. ‘You get a triangle.’

‘I can see that,’ Thomas said. ‘The letter A. So?’

‘You ain’t lived in the East End, Tommy,’ Silas said, his confidence boosted by his experience. ‘So you ain’t seen as many of these as me.’ He placed the pencil at murder site two and drew downwards on an angle to the right, stopping opposite the apex of the A. He drew another line from site six to the left to reach the same point, creating another triangle, inverted over the first. ‘If you forget murder number five ’cos the street name doesn’t fit,’ he said, ‘You can make a Jewish star.’ He threw down the pencil and sat back, pleased with himself.

‘You think this is antisemitic?’ Archer asked.

Silas shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think, Archie,’ he said. ‘But if that’s right, then the bottom point of that star is going to point to the place of the next murder.’