第 9 页

Moran was thrown into a cell already full of sweaty, raucous individuals. My mind raced with possible means of escape.

The policeman leading me to my cell could not resist a hungry stare at my breasts heaving above the low scoop of my dress. I sensed my opportunity and whispered in his ear; “I don’t do it just to make a living, you know?”

He pulled away slightly, unsure of my meaning. I placed my cuffed hands around the back of his neck and brought my face up close to his, close enough to taste his foul breath.

“I just can’t get enough you see. It’s not really the money,” I pushed my face even closer until our noses touched; “It’s the thrill.”

He pulled my hands from his neck and led me to a small empty cell opposite a wooden desk. He unlocked the door, this one simply bars with no wood, removed my cuffs and pushed me inside.

“You’re no fun,” I shouted as he walked over to sit at his little desk. He began jotting down notes and shouted for the prisoners to keep the noise down. As I sauntered around my cell his eyes kept following me. This was my chance, only he could see me and I decided to give him something irresistible to look at.

I faced him holding onto the bars. I threw my head back and shook it so that my red curls fell loose all down my back. Then, slowly, I bent my head forward letting my hair tumble around my face and shoulders in a wild, tousled mane.

I fixed him with a seductive stare and began to slowly undo the ribbons supporting the neck-line of my dress. Now I had his complete attention. I wasn’t wearing a corset, I rarely ever did as it was so restrictive and agility was often crucial to my survival. My ample breasts began to tumble out from my dress as it started to fall open.

Then, like a tease, I laughed and pulled the dress back together and walked to the back of my cell. I needed him to follow and he did not disappoint. I spun around to find him standing at the bars, panting like a pathetic dog. I let go of the dress and it fell to the floor leaving me clad only in drawers and garters with my curvaceous, toned body leaving him drooling.

I sat upon the rickety stool in the corner of my cell and leaned forward emphasising my breasts. I pulled all my hair over one shoulder.

“Come and join me,” I purred.

It worked perfectly. He glanced around to make sure no-one was watching then reached for the bunch of keys fastened to his belt and unlocked my cell. He rushed towards me hungrily but I held up a hand to stop him.

“Let’s not rush,” I said coquettishly. “Turn around then when I tell you, turn back and you’ll see everything you want to.”

He laughed and turned away but instead of removing my last pieces of underwear as he was praying I would, I lifted the wooden stool and brought it crashing down on his head.

Dazed from the unexpected blow, he turned to face me and I punched him as hard as I could in the face then crashed the stool down onto his head again. As he fell to the floor unconscious, I tugged the keys from his belt, pulled my dress back on and dashed from the cell.

I ran down the corridor to Moran’s cell. Prisoners jumped up to see through the bars and I begged for quiet. Fortunately, they complied. Moran was pale and terrified, hiding at the back of his cell. When he heard me call his name, he rushed to the bars and was simply flabbergasted to see me.

“Quick, we have very little time,” I whispered as I unlocked his cell door.

“But, how?” he asked as I swung open the door for him to walk free.

“No time, we need to get out of here.”

“But there were at least ten policemen back up there when they brought us in. How can we possibly escape?” he queried.

“This is true, but there are at least twenty very bad men down here,” I smiled, holding up the keys and shaking them in his face.

“You all with me? Is it time to go home boys?” I asked, spinning around and looking at the eager faces pressed against the bars.

Loud and excited cries of “Yes!” punctuated the dank, still air and I ran along the line of cells unlocking each door releasing a swarm of aggressive men.

We all charged up the narrow stone steps with me at the front dragging a frightened Colonel Moran by the wrist, followed by my new army of ruffians desperate for freedom. As the peelers rushed forward to block us my army fought back, and fists and elbows flew out in all directions.

I fought as bravely as any, kicking and punching with the rest of them and suffering nothing worse than a bloody nose and split lip.

In the midst of all the chaos, just as we began to charge for the main doors, something compelled me to look back over my right shoulder. Standing statuesquely, utterly shocked but totally composed, was the upright, immaculate figure of Sherlock Holmes. He had his silver-topped cane in hand and black top hat perfectly placed upon his proud head. He was accompanied by his friend Doctor Watson.

Watson rushed forward to tackle a bruiser who was about to throw another policeman to the floor, but Holmes was staring at me, locking his eyes onto my own as I spun around to face him in a whirlwind of tangled hair and bloodied face.

Time stood still briefly as I looked at those deep brown eyes. Everything and everyone else just disappeared. The shouting and screams died away, the pushing and shoving ceased, the sight of peelers falling to my convict army didn’t distract my eyes. In those few seconds nothing else mattered to either of us.

We simply stared at each other, strangely connected but a million miles apart. Never had he seen a woman quite this way before - wild hair, blood pouring from her nose and a split lip.

What an unusual sight I must have been, my perfect bright blue eyes locked onto his own without a trace of fear and full of proud rebellion. I was the complete antithesis of Victorian restraint and femininity.

Then an officer grabbed at my throat while another took hold of Moran. I managed to force my elbow into the officer’s face and sunk my teeth into his arm. His grip loosened and I snatched his revolver using it to pound the head of the peeler holding Moran.

“Run!” I screamed at him as he just dithered. “Run. Go quickly.”

As Moran escaped I was left with an increasingly difficult situation. My boisterous army of freed prisoners was being steadily overpowered and I started to fear that all was lost. The revolver I had snatched wasn’t even loaded. I fought on but many more police had now come to assist their colleagues and my situation was looking increasingly desperate.

When I thought all was lost I was grabbed from behind by a strong pair of arms, so tightly that I couldn’t resist. A hand covered my mouth and another was placed over my eyes as I was dragged away. I kicked and wriggled but to no avail.

I was dragged down a long corridor, pushed through a few doors and finally flung out through a final door into a deserted back-street. Only now did the arms release their iron grip and I turned to face my saviour. I found myself looking straight up at Sherlock Holmes.

“Why? Why have you done this? Don’t tell me you’re trying to save my soul again because I think we both know it’s too late for that.”

“Just go, quickly.”

I wiped some of the blood from my nose with the back of my hand.

“Not until you tell me why.”

We heard footsteps in the corridor behind us. Holmes simply looked at me for a long thoughtful moment then slammed shut the door through which he had just pushed me. I was left alone in the street, perplexed but thankfully free. I ran away as fast as my legs would carry me.

The police offered a large reward for anyone who could help them capture Jude and myself. They once again swarmed the streets of the East End looking for us, just as they had done all those years previously after our dramatic escape from the workhouse. But this time the poor and criminal factions all joined in the search and rushed to be the ones to claim the reward. Clearly the concept of honour amongst thieves was a myth and the only loyalty shown by those around us was a slavish devotion to the pursuit of money.

We lasted well enough for several days using the money we had from Moran and the Greek to pay people for their help but soon we were completely alone. We broke back into our old warehouse in the hope that no-one would think us stupid enough to return.

Stowing away onboard a ship and starting a new life seemed like our only option. We had lost everything. I couldn’t help but feel angry with myself.

We cuddled together against the cold in the warehouse. My brief spell in jail had filled me with a claustrophobic fear of ever having to return to incarceration.

During that uncomfortable night, a reward-hungry mob broke through our barricades. They burst into the warehouse carrying blazing torches, armed with sticks and guns. Our situation was hopeless. We were totally outnumbered.

As the mob advanced towards us, I pulled Jude behind me and prepared to fight. I decided I would rather die fighting than be humiliated on the gallows.

The mob advanced ever closer, faces flickering orange in the bright light of their torches. They looked like servants of the devil dancing in the fires of hell. After everything I had done, all I had fought so hard for, all we had risked and all we had achieved, it now seemed to be in vain. Here we were alone, defenceless and broken.

I thought of Jude, I had let him down. I had brought him to this. Would he have been better off if I had left him in the workhouse all those years ago? I tried to pull him behind me but he pushed forward determined to protect me.

Strangely, suddenly, I thought of Sherlock Holmes. I feared that I would never see him again and wondered if, one day when his life flickered before his eyes like a final montage, he would see me like I was now seeing him.

The mob threw down their torches and the flames began a conflagration through the warehouse. They raised their sticks ready to beat us into submission, but the sound of gun shots stopped them in their tracks as a figure appeared through the flames.

Striding towards us, flanked by immaculately-dressed armed men, his image distorted by the heat and smoke, was Professor James Moriarty. Colonel Moran walked a few paces behind him and his well-tailored henchmen raised and readied their weapons. To my surprise, they were not aiming at me, but at the mob who were about to send us to our graves.

At a simple raising then lowering of the professor’s hand, shots were fired dispatching all our aggressors. Life beckoned after the certainty of death.

The professor advanced through the flames, a rather surreal vision. He oozed power and authority. I tried to control my shaking as he walked towards me. I was convinced he was going to attack me and was aware that the guns had been raised once more and were pointing straight at us. As he raised his hand I prepared myself for a shower of bullets, but to my surprise he reached forward, took my hand and kissed it.

“I have waited a long time to meet you and you do not disappoint,” he said. I pulled Jude tightly behind me still afraid that danger was upon us.

“Please, whatever your quarrel is, it’s with me not Jude. Let him go and I’ll do whatever you ask. Hurt him, and I’ll fight you till my death,” I said, trying to mask my fears with bravado.

The professor was small, quite frail and senior. But, despite looking physically weak, he was clearly very powerful. He waved for his men to walk towards us.

“My sincere apologies for what is about to happen but unfortunately it is absolutely necessary,” the professor said. “Bag them,” he commanded his men.

Two of them put down their weapons while the rest kept theirs trained upon us. Moran handed the two men sacks which they pulled over our heads. We both knew it was pointless to struggle.

I remember nothing else save for a numbing blow to the head which took away my consciousness. A new phase of my life was about to begin minutes after being convinced it was about to end forever.

Chapter Five

When the sack was finally pulled from my throbbing head after an uncomfortable journey, my eyes squinted painfully in the light. The minion who had removed the sack promptly left the room leaving me completely alone.

I felt disorientated, frantically looking all around trying to assess my surroundings. The room was a grand study with an imposing oak desk. Works of art adorned the walls. A large roaring fire danced in the fireplace and all was immaculate, almost unnervingly neat. It was evident that the professor was an extremely wealthy man who liked to surround himself with beauty.

But why had he saved me from the reward-hungry mob at the warehouse? Suddenly I thought of Jude and a sick fear gripped me. Where was Jude?

The sound of the door opening penetrated my confusion. I felt afraid but was determined to show no weakness. As my captor entered the room I found myself standing alone in front of the infamous Professor James Moriarty.

He closed the door behind him and walked slowly towards me. I finally had my chance to observe this unusual man at close quarters. He was a frail stooped figure in his late fifties with a large forehead, sharp nose and small alert eyes.

As he walked, he slowly rolled his head from side to side in a most curious fashion until he was standing directly in front of me. Now he fixed me with a searching stare which seemed to hunt out my secret depths. I felt a chill pass through my soul. Then, the harsh line of his thin, pale lips gave way to a satisfied smile.

“As I have told you before, you do not disappoint. Indeed, you exceed all expectations. My sincere apologies for the method used to bring you here. It was imperative that you did not know the location of this house at such an early stage. Security is of vital importance. I do not yet know if I can trust you, though I very much hope that I can.”

His attire was perfect in every way from his polished shoes to the gleaming buttons of his jacket. He was clean shaven and had thin, short, tidy hair.

He took my hands in his own, lifted my arms in front of me and ran his thin fingers along the muscles up to my shoulders. It was most curious and unexpected. He turned me around, felt along my spine then turned me back to face him.

“Most pleasing; you have the beginnings of fine strong muscles, just as I suspected, and an excellent stance. Such balance and poise can easily be developed into something quite magnificent and useful.”

He was physically weak and I could have overpowered him easily, but I didn’t fight or try to escape. I understood that this situation was far more serious than anything faced before and the consequences of such actions would be far greater than an initial victory.

“Where’s Jude?” I asked.

“All in good time. Now, drink?” he asked, attempting a smile.

I stepped back and sharply repeated my question. The oscillation of his head increased annoyingly. It was like a nervous twitch.

He walked to a small table with a decanter and tumblers on top. He muttered softly to himself and rearranged the jumble of glasses into a perfectly straight line before pouring out an exact measure of alcohol into two of them. He handed me the glass but I hurled it at the wall causing a shower of fine crystal.