Archangel (A Ghosts of London Novel) Page 16

  The investigation was initially hampered by the advances of a Mr. Robinson (first name not given), who purported to be able to help but who actually seemed to delight in hampering our work. He was eventually chased away with the threat of arrest and a night in the cells, although a few weeks later he returned and informed us that he had in fact solved the case of Madeleine Drury's murder.

  I didn't think much of his suggestion at first, but it soon became apparent that he was right: the killer was swiftly apprehended and ended up being hung twelve months later. Were it not for the intervention of this Mr. Robinson fellow, I'm not sure that we would have ever secured a conviction.

  There are many who find him to be extremely unpleasant, but he knows this city better than anyone I have ever met, and he seems to have an almost preternatural ability to sniff out trouble.

  Checking another folder, Milhouse soon found a similar note from another detective:

  I want to damn that Robinson fellow to hell, but I cannot do so, not while he continues to unearth such useful information.

  The man is a lunatic, but he most certainly knows how to get to the bottom of a case, and he seems to take great pleasure in the ritual humiliation of our more blustery officers. How he determined the true nature of Spring-Heeled Jack, I shall never know, but the matter is now being dealt with by the appropriate agencies and the truth will likely be suppressed.

  Robinson, meanwhile, disappears into the night once again, although I have no doubt that he will soon resurface and be his usual infuriating self.

  Turning to another folder, Milhouse continued his search and quickly located yet another relevant report:

  In the course of our discussion on that long night, Mr. Robinson repeatedly refused to provide a name for the miscreant, averring simply that we should count the Whitechapel murders as solved, and that we should stop worrying about the individual commonly known as Jack the Ripper.

  I threatened all sorts of recourse if he wouldn't tell me what he knew, but he insisted over and over again that the matter was “sorted” and that there would be no recurrences. I must admit, I found his confidence to be rather striking, even if he refused to explain how he had drawn his conclusions.

  Three months later, with no more such murders having taken place, I can only conclude the Mr. Robinson caught and dealt with the killer, and that the case is indeed solved.

  Leaning back in his seat for a moment, Milhouse stared into space as he tried to put together the various things he'd learned.

  “Jack the Ripper?” he whispered after a moment. “Spring-Heeled Jack? Pull the other one.”

  Reaching out for one of the other folders, he spotted a photo tucked in with some of the other files. When he pulled the photo out, he saw a familiar face staring back at him: Robinson was among a group of men standing outside the old Scotland Yard building, and although Milhouse knew that it must be the great-grandfather or even great-great-grandfather of the current Robinson, he still couldn't escape a faint shiver in his spine as he realized that the family resemblance was uncanny.

  “A whole family of 'em,” he muttered, opening another file. “They must've been plaguing the force for centuries.”

  ***

  “Quix, it's me,” Robinson said as he hurried along the street, with his phone in one hand. “I'm coming back to the office. Whatever's going on at that company, it's linked to the so-called angels. I'm just hoping Katie manages to come up with something while she's poking around.”

  He waited for a reply, before remembering that none would be forthcoming.

  “It's very difficult talking to you on the phone,” he continued, crossing the road and then making his way toward the building where he rented his office. “Couldn't you at least give me some kind of sign so that I know you're still listening and -”

  He stopped as he heard a bumping sound from the other end of the line.

  “Is that your way of saying you're still there,” he asked, “or did you just faint?”

  Two more bumps swiftly followed.

  “Couldn't you just go and look for your tongue?” he continued. “The novelty of this whole situation is starting to wear off.”

  Two more bumps.

  “Whatever,” he added, “I've also been doing some research regarding a woman named Suzanne Leach. Turns out she was fired several years ago from a medical company, after she was found to be running unauthorized experiments on unborn fetuses while they were still in their mothers' wombs. To say that the woman has a few ethical issues would be an understatement, but I don't know what happened to her between being fired and showing up at the Harrington Cole company. Anyway, I'll be back shortly. Can you get the car ready? I need to run some errands.”

  A single bump.

  “Have it waiting around the back of the building,” he continued. “I'll be there in five minutes.”

  Another bump.

  “And Quix... For God's sake, go and get your tongue back.”

  Another bump, followed swiftly by another.

  Cutting the call, Robinson checked his watch as he made his way toward the front door. He was still turning over the events of the past few hours in his mind, still trying to work out exactly what he'd seen during his brief guided tour of the laboratory. One thing was certain: he'd been shown the bare minimum, and Hanson had been hiding a great deal. Then there was the question of Doctor Leach, who seemed -

  “Robinson,” a familiar voice said suddenly.

  Turning, Robinson found that several armed men were approaching, with Inspector Wagoner leading the way. “Not now,” he said with a sigh, “I'm busy...”

  “You're under arrest, is what you are,” Wagoner said, stepping behind him and quickly slapping handcuffs onto one of his wrists. “You do not have to -”

  “For what?” Robinson asked, struggling to get free as Wagoner cuffed his right wrist. “This is an outrage!”

  “Do I need to read you your rights,” Wagoner continued, “or can we save that particular palaver? I imagine a guy like you know his rights inside bloody out.”

  “I demand to know what this is about! Damn it, you weren't supposed to arrest me until Friday! I had no idea you'd work so fast!”

  “Hacking into police systems,” Wagoner explained with a smile, “plus obstruction of justice and, oh yes, being an annoying bastard. And that's just for starters. Once I've got you in custody, I can start digging through your affairs and I wouldn't be surprised if I found some very interesting details. For one thing, Robinson, I plan to get a warrant so I can search your office.”

  “Out of the question -”

  “You don't get to decide!” Wagoner said firmly. “You've been playing around at the margins for long enough. Maybe other people are willing to indulge you, but I do things by the book!”

  “You don't understand,” Robinson replied, “this is a very bad time! I'm in the middle of -”

  “Save it,” Wagoner continued, shoving him in the back. “You might have plenty of other people wrapped around your little finger, but you're not talking your way out of this one, not in a million years. I've got you banged to rights at last, my friend, and you're not gonna slip through my fingers this time. You, Mr. Robinson, have interfered with police business for the last time, and I can assure you that once you've answered my questions, you're gonna be spending a great deal of time contemplating things from the inside of a jail cell.”

  “Inspector, please -”

  “Can it. Take him away!”

  “At least let me make one phone call,” Robinson protested. “Well, not a phone call exactly, more of a broadcast. I have a friend who's in a very dangerous situation and I need to tell her that -”

  “Save it. You can call a lawyer from the station.”

  “But my friend might -”

  “Get him out of here,” Wagoner said firmly, turning to the other officers.

  As Robinson continued to struggle, two armed officers grabbed his arms and began to lead him toward a waiting police v
an, while several onlookers stared in shock. Robinson continued to try to get loose, until one of the officers finally produced a Taser and shocked him, sending him slumping to the ground, at which point he was picked up and carried into the van.

  “Nothing to worry about, ladies and gents,” Wagoner told them with a smile. “Just getting another bad apple off the streets and restoring public order. All in a day's work.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Where did you get this?” Doctor Leach asked as she admired the bone that Hanson had just passed to her. “Do you have any proof that it's -”

  “It's definitely real,” Hanson told her. “I was able to compare it to several images, and I used the laser scanner to take a few additional measurements. This is the bone of the Archangel Lucas, the one we've been trying to locate and procure for years. We've actually been studying the church where it was stored for quite some time, trying to determine the best way to get in and take the damn thing, but I never imagined it would turn up with such ease.”

  “And you got it... from where?”

  “You might find this difficult to believe,” Hanson continued, “but an utter madman walked through the front door and gave it to me.”

  She turned to him.

  “Don't you see?” he asked. “It's divine intervention.”

  “There's no such thing,” she replied. “Hanson, if -”

  “We're destined to have this bone,” he continued, interrupting her. “It has been delivered to us, and that can only mean that it's the next part of our grand plan. Do you still not get it? It's from this bone that our first truly pure angel will be born. The Lord has recognized our work and has seen fit to help us.”

  Staring at the bone for a moment, Doctor Leach seemed lost in thought.

  “I'm not buying it,” she said finally. “It's too good to be true. People don't just wander in off the street and hand over priceless religious artifacts.”

  “They do if the Lord is directing things,” Hanson told her. “Who knows why that Robinson fool came here? Who cares? The man's clearly an imbecile, but the Lord has orchestrated things and ensured that the bone reaches us. I know you struggle with faith, but I can assure you, I see God's hands in all of this. All you have to do is get to work and use this bone for the next subject.”

  “We don't even have a Subject D lined up yet,” she pointed out.

  “Leave that to me.”

  “I'm still skeptical,” she muttered, holding the bone up so she could look at it more closely. “I'm going to want to run some tests on it first. There are so many variables.”

  “Just don't take too long,” Hanson told her. “I can feel that we're on the verge of something wonderful.”

  “Don't you want to know about Subject C first?”

  “Is she showing any sign of imperfections?”

  “Unfortunately...” Doctor Leach paused. “She has a nasty cut on her thigh. I'm not sure how it happened, but it's there nonetheless, and it's quite possibly infected.”

  “So she's not going to be useful going forward.”

  “She has some value, but if you're still determined to get a perfect subject up and running, I'm afraid Subject C isn't going to be viable.”

  “Learn what you can from her,” he continued, “and then when she starts to degrade, put her with the others.”

  “I'm not sure she will degrade to the same extent,” Doctor Leach replied. “She's looking remarkably good so far. I just... There's something missing from all of them, and I don't think it's due to the bone samples we're using. I think it's the human bases.”

  “I pick only the purest, least sullied humans for our work.”

  “I know, but it still doesn't seem quite right. There's something we're overlooking.”

  “Get working on this bone,” he said firmly, “and let me worry about locating someone who can become Subject D.”

  “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “Not yet,” he replied, “but don't worry, it's clear that the Lord is starting to direct our progress. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he's getting ready to deliver the perfect Subject D right into the palms of our hands.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Robinson, are you still there?” Katie hissed, tapping the side of her head in an attempt to get the earpiece working again. “Robinson, can you say something?”

  She waited, but there was no reply.

  “Robinson! If you don't -”

  Hearing footsteps at the other end of the corridor, she grabbed a cloth and a bottle of cleaning fluid from the trolley and got to work on the railing at the top of the stairs. As a white-coated technician hurried past, Katie made sure to focus solely on the railing, before glancing along the corridor and watching as the technician dumped a coffee cup in the bin and then swiped his way through the secure metal door.

  “Robinson,” Katie whispered, “can you please just -”

  Stopping suddenly, she saw that although the metal door had swung shut, something seemed to be propping it partially open. Pulling her trolley closer, she saw that the coffee cup had rolled off the top of the over-flowing bin and had lodged in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure that no-one was around, before realizing that this was most likely her one and only chance to investigate. Figuring that she could always claim to be lost, she opened the door and pulled her trolley through.

  “I'm in,” she whispered, hoping that Robinson would be able to hear her. “I'm through the security door into the top secret part of the building.”

  As she waited for a reply, she looked along the corridor and realized that she could hear the sound of voices in the next room, along with what seemed to be some kind of heavy machinery. She froze for a few seconds, convinced that at any moment someone would catch her and scream at her to get out, but as the seconds passed she realized she might as well at least try to go a little further. Making sure to keep hold of her trolley, she made her way along the corridor, although the trolley seemed to have developed a squeaking wheel that she felt certain would give her away at any moment.

  “Robinson,” she whispered, “you'd better be out there somewhere.”

  Reaching the first door, she peered through and saw, to her surprise, a huge room with a circular vat in the center. Several technicians were working on a large square grid that was suspected from the ceiling, while a few more people were up in an observation booth at the top of a set of metal stairs. Watching for a moment longer, Katie finally realized that although she could see a lot, she couldn't quite make out what was happening. Figuring that everyone looked far too busy to notice her, she quickly wheeled her squeaky-wheeled trolley past the door and then made her way further along the corridor, while constantly looking over her shoulder in case someone spotted her.

  “You should see this,” she whispered, still hoping that Robinson could hear her. “They're definitely up to something, it's like some kind of top-secret lab with a load of technicians and some seriously sci-fi equipment. I don't know what they're doing, exactly, but -”

  She stopped as she heard a scream up ahead. Frozen in place for a moment, she listened as the scream was suddenly muffled, as if something had been placed over the person's mouth, but she was certain that the voice had come from a woman. Hearing people shouting in the distance, she grabbed her trolley and pulled it through an open door, finding herself in an office with several empty chairs. Before she had a chance to work out what to do next, she heard footsteps getting closer and she turned just in time to see several technicians running past. None of them noticed her, so she stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, listening to the sound of voices shouting in the distance.

  “Should we sedate her?” one of the voice called out.

  “Not without permission!”

  “Then what exactly are we supposed to do with her?”

  “Just hold on! I need to get Doctor Leach's authorization.”

  “Doctor Leach,” Katie whispered. “Did you get that, Robin
son? Can you just give me some kind of sign that you're there?”

  “I'm going to go ahead anyway,” one of the voices said.

  “Not without authorization!”

  “She's going to hurt herself!”

  She waited, but all she heard was more shouting in the distance, along with the sound of people running and, finally, several doors slamming shut.

  And then silence.

  “I have no idea what's happening,” she whispered. “I should get out of here, I think maybe this place is -” Spotting a filing cabinet nearby, she realized that if there was an emergency happening in another part of the building, she'd probably be able to spend a few minutes checking out the documents. She wanted to turn and push her trolley to safety as fast as possible, but at the same time she also wanted to impress Robinson and show him that his faith in her wasn't misplaced.

  Taking the earpiece out for a moment, she turned it around in her hands, checking that there was no sign of damage.

  “Hello?” she continued, holding it close to her mouth. “Robinson, can you say something?”

  She held it back up for a moment, but no reply came through.

  “Great,” she muttered, slipping it back into her ear.

  Heading over to the door, she pulled it open and leaned out into the corridor, making sure that there was no sign of anyone nearby. Once she was sure she was alone, she pulled the trolley out and made her way a little further along the corridor. Reaching the intersection at the far end, she looked both ways, but the screaming had stopped and she wasn't sure which way to go next. For a moment, she considered pushing on and trying to learn more, but she felt that she'd already tried her luck and that it was time to retreat. Turning, she began to push the trolley back toward the exit.