The House Of Smoke (39 page)

His answer surprised me. I had been sure he had been my secret supplier.

I held up my right hand, ‘I mean, had I been equipped with more than nails bitten to the quick, then I might have escaped.’

Huntley said no more. He walked me on, through a gateway and onto another landing. We left the condemned block and entered a part of the prison that housed those convicted of lesser crimes. He opened a door to his left and barked out an instruction to me. ‘Step inside. You can wash your mouth out in there. I’ll be back once I’ve sorted your cell.’

I entered and he locked the door behind me. The room was narrow and stank of shit and cheap tobacco. Gaolers’ caps and coats hung from wall pegs. One side of the room was fitted with cracked and filthy sinks. Opposite was a series of toilets, some with battered green doors, some without. I guessed this was some kind of changing place for the screws.

I washed my mouth and spat in a sink. Used one of the toilets then quickly checked the windows. They were small, all barred and even higher than the one in my cell.

Huntley eventually opened up and called to me. ‘Hurry up, Lynch. I’ve found somewhere to put you. Come on.’

We walked together in silence along the landing. He stopped, opened a cell to his right and pushed me inside.

‘Here he is, boys, this is the one,’ he announced before closing the door.

Four men gazed at me.

Two were slim, young and swarthy. A third was big and bald. The fourth had his back to me and was facing the window. He was of medium height and build, with jet-black hair and the start of a thinning crown.

He turned and I saw immediately that he was Chinese.

‘My cousin Lee, he wishes you dead,’ he said through a broken wall of teeth. ‘And I also wish you dead, because you kill my friend Lin.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I replied coolly. ‘I have killed many people in my time, but never one of your kind.’

‘In your cell, you kill him.’

‘Ah, I remember now.’ I nodded in mock respect. ‘My condolences. Although I do recall that he was trying to murder me in my sleep. Perhaps you’re the fellow who can tell me how he got in?’

He smiled again. ‘Mr Boardman, he also wants kill you.’

‘Ah, of course he does.’ So I had been right. A turnkey had been in my room with the other intruder. There seemed little point telling the Chinaman the screw had killed his friend, had shanked him through the chest while I’d been merely choking him with my manacles.

The bald man cracked his knuckles and rose. He was well over six feet tall, thickly muscled. When he spoke his accent was horribly familiar. ‘Yow got moy friend beaten up by young mister Chan at that owse in London, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember. A Brummie bastard, if ever there was one.’

The two young convicts jumped down from the top bunk where they’d been sitting together.

The Chinaman glanced at them and then laughed. ‘You relax – they the only ones don’t want kill you, Mr Lynch. They just wish fuck you when you dead.’

‘Oh, that
is
of great comfort,’ I replied.

Baldy made his move. He grabbed for my chest with his big sausage fingers. Big mistake. I slammed my left fist into his throat. Between my knuckles was the nail I had put there while in the screws’ bathroom, looking to escape through a window. He screamed and coughed blood. His eyes widened as he guttered and choked.

I pulled out the nail and switched my attention to the Chinaman.
My mistake.
Baldy wobbled and fell into me. We staggered half a yard, his big arms circling my chest like twin snakes. His knees gave way but he held on, crashed me into the edge of a bunk and pulled me over. I hit the ground backwards, Baldy a dead weight across my chest and legs.

A foot stamped on my outstretched left hand, smashing down so hard that I released the nail from my fingers. The Chinaman came into my view. Dull steel moved in his right hand – a shank made from scavenged metal.

‘This is for Lee.’ His hand rose and fell.

I would have been dead. The shank would have sunk in my head or chest, had the cell door not banged open. It caught the Chinaman fully in the shoulder and he toppled over. Voices bellowed. Screws kicked their way into the cell.

Someone pulled Baldy’s corpse off me. Blood spurted from his throat into my face.

I got to my knees. Wiped my eyes with my thumbs.

Johncock stared at me. ‘By Jesus, Lynch, you just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?’ He dragged me to my feet. ‘I think the gallows might be the safest place for you.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘Don’t be thanking me. I want you dead as dearly as Huntley does. I’m just prepared to wait a little longer and see it done legally.’

Huntley?
My mind could not register him as anything but a friend, let alone a secret enemy.

Johncock turned to his men. ‘Get Lynch out of here and have him cleaned up and protected.’

The screws’ idea of ‘cleaning me up’ turned out to be nothing more than issuing me with a dry set of dead man’s rags, a bar of carbolic soap and a bucket of water, then turning me out into the cold of the Press Yard.

I stripped naked, washed myself clean of the Brummie’s blood and changed into the tattered garments.

I had killed again.

Not the life I had wished to take, but still a life. It seemed as though I was fated to murder until God stilled my hand and man piled earth thickly upon me.

I was taken back inside the gaol and chained up in a corridor for more than an hour before they found me a new cell. It turned out to be one vacated by a convict who had died from gaol fever. Another bucket of water, more carbolic and a scrubbing brush were brought for me to clean the place.

The floors and walls were still wet when Johncock strode in. This time he ordered his men to wait outside. He looked at the dripping walls, then at me. ‘Made yourself at home, Lynch?’

I didn’t answer. He hadn’t come here to check on my comfort.

‘You’ve done us all a favour today.’ He smiled gloatingly. ‘Thanks to you we were able to get a bad apple, a
very
bad apple out of our barrel.’

‘You mean Huntley.’

‘Aye, I do. I do indeed.’

‘May I ask how I acquired such good fortune that you intervened on my behalf at
exactly
the moment you did?’

‘Eyes and ears, Lynch. I have them on every landing in Newgate. Nothing happens in here without me knowing about it sooner or later.’ Water had gathered on the floor where it ran at a slope and hit the wall. Johncock placed his boot in a puddle of water then pleased himself by making a footprint on some dry stone to one side. ‘From the first day you came here there were contracts out on you.’

‘Contracts plural?’

‘Most certainly plural. There are Englishmen, Irishmen, Londoners, northerners and all manner of foreigners wanting your bones boxed and buried. Fortunately for you, only half a dozen of the devils in Newgate have the gumption to fulfil such a wish. I have had them all watched. And when Huntley arrived I had him watched as well.’

‘Why Huntley?’

‘All prim and prettified, posh and perfect, he was too good to be true. I can tell rotten without seeing rotten. And when he walked out of here at night at the end of his shift, he changed into clothes and went places that not even the keeper could afford.’

‘So you had Huntley and the most dangerous men in the prison under observation?’

‘I did. The pair of pixies in the Chinaman’s cell – they were two of my snitches. I had them put into several cells before we identified Sun Shi as the man contracted to kill you. Indeed, had you got out into the exercise yard the first time Huntley wanted you to, then you would have run into him and his shank. You were only saved because those boys gave me the nod, and in doing so they confirmed my suspicions about Huntley.’

‘Mr Johncock, you put the great Sherlock Holmes to shame.’

‘In my opinion, there is nothing so great about him.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘Could he manage this gaol for a month? For a day? I think not. Twenty years I’ve been here, and never a slip up on my watch.’

‘What about Boardman?’

‘Boardman?’ he looked surprised.

‘Your big dumb screw was the man who shanked the Chinaman you found dead in my cell. He was going for me.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Sun Shi said it. I asked him outright how his friend accessed my cell.’

‘Then I will speak to him, and if you are correct Boardman will be dealt with.’

‘And what now of Huntley?’

‘The police have him. Not that it is any concern of yours. He’ll get his punishment, along with Boardman if he was involved as well.’

‘And the bald Brummie I killed?’

‘We could try you and hang you for it, I suppose.’ He gave me a look of mischievous amusement. ‘Or I could save myself a lot of paperwork and report it as self-defence. A fact that will come out if we get Huntley and Sun Shi to the Old Bailey.’

He splashed a foot in the puddled water again, stamped down his boot and lifted it to reveal a strong outline on dry stone. ‘Tobias Johncock always leaves his mark. Every day, in one way or another, he always leaves his mark.’

The following morning, as they cleared away the slop they called breakfast, I discovered that my new cell was something of an inconvenience to the turnkeys. Apparently, it was further from the Pinioning Room, the dreaded area in which they would bind my hands by my side so I might fall ‘straighter and cleaner’ through the trap. Screws liked things easy and a longer walk would give me more chance to stage a final fight for life.

When Levine and Moriarty arrived, we were afforded the privacy of a secure area near the Association Room. My lawyer was more modestly dressed than usual, in a suit of green velvet, pale ruffled shirt and green silk tie. Moriarty was still in the guise of clerk.

They had both been told of the attempt on my life and despite the fact that I was soon to hang were ironically concerned for my welfare.

‘I do hope you have not suffered further injury,’ remarked the lawyer. ‘You have had a most terrible time since your admission.’

‘Shut up, Levine,’ growled Moriarty. ‘Your lack of reality embarrasses me.’ He looked my way. ‘Simeon, I will find this Huntley fellow and I assure you he will be dealt with.’

‘He is of no consequence. Chan was behind the attack, and it is he I wish to be brought to book.’

‘You are certain it was Chan?’

‘The cell was run by a Chinaman called Sun Shi, who said he is a cousin of Lee Chan.’

‘This side of hell, they will never be reunited,’ promised Moriarty.

Levine was nervous of the conversation and keen to change the subject. ‘Gentlemen, let us move to legal business, as time is of the essence. Simeon, in light of our failed appeal to the home secretary we have been petitioning the monarch for clemency.’ He passed me a stamped note, signed by the royal secretary. ‘Unfortunately, Her Majesty is not disposed to intervene on this occasion.’

I held the letter but did not look at it. ‘Yesterday, you informed me you had lost PC Cross as a witness and had an appeal denied by the home secretary. Am I correct in now assuming we are at the end of the line and I should prepare for the worst?’

‘I am truly sorry,’ added Moriarty. ‘We have run out of options. Except for the one Holmes presented you.’

I passed the royal note back. ‘Holmes’s proposition is not an option.’

‘Then you have decided?’ Levine sounded a tad too enthusiastic for my liking.

‘I have.’ An involuntary sigh gave away how drained I felt. My spirit was already dead. My determination to live had been depleted. ‘I am guilty of the murder of PC Jackson and, Lord knows, many more as well. So I shall not be saving my own neck only to break those of others.’

Moriarty spoke gently and slowly. ‘My son, you are resolved to do a brave and honourable thing, but I beg you not to. You are young enough to start again, to find a new love and to raise a new family.’

I shook my head. ‘
You
of all people know that I have had but one love. One beautiful love and one beautiful child. I wish for no more. They are irreplaceable.’

‘I understand your loss, and your sentiments.’ His eyes misted and I am sure for a moment he thought of Alexander. ‘But I would willingly give my life in return for yours.’

‘But it would not be
only
yours,’ I reminded him. ‘Holmes seeks the neck of your brother more than yours, and it would not stop there. Everyone in your empire would be at risk.’

The ensuing silence seemed to seal the discussion. I had but one loose end, one unanswered question. ‘Surrey? Do you have any further news of her?’

The professor took a deep breath. ‘I do not. I asked the very same question of James and he says neither he nor Moran saw her after she went with Elizabeth.’

‘So Chan killed her as well?’

‘It would appear so.’

‘For that error of judgement alone, I deserve to hang. Had I gone with Elizabeth then both she and Surrey would be alive today and I would not be in this wretched place.’ I banged my fists on the table and struggled not to bellow out the rage that rose inside me.

Moriarty put his hands gently over my whitened knuckles. ‘Do not torture yourself with regrets. The blame is solely Chan’s. Not yours, nor mine, nor James’s.’ He could see my spirit was still fiery and added, ‘You and I are not so different. I have the same rage and propensity for violence I have just learned to hide it better. And I too lost my mother; she passed in my early teens and I missed her terribly. The business I built in America was more to honour her memory than anything. And I confess that returning to those shores always made me feel connected to her.’

He flinched and I wondered if it was the pain of remembering or the agony of his injuries, then he concluded, ‘Sons who lose their mothers early are either driven to succeed or destined to die in poverty.’

From that moment forth, our moods became increasingly saturnine and I found myself longing for my own company in order to come to terms with all my feelings and the enormity of what lay ahead. ‘Please do not think me rude, but I need to return to my cell and rest now.’