I, Ripper

“Walking as bold as Cecil Rhodes across Africa with a pocketful of diamonds,” he said. He looked up, poked open the spy hole that allowed contact with the hansom driver, and said, “Two more blocks, then drop us on the left.”

“Aye,” said the driver, “but mind your bloomin’ ’eads, sir, as she’s started to rain.”

What impact would that have on things? Jack had never worked in the rain. Perhaps it would drive him back. Or perhaps he’d try to work indoors or make some other arrangement, I thought, and realized that if so, we’d never catch up, and this one would go down as a miss. The professor paid the driver.

We pulled away, took up a kind of boys’-spy position behind a shuttered coster stall – we would have looked quite mad to passersby, had they noticed, but of course they didn’t – and waited, and yes, here came, recognizable by his powerful gait and lack of patience, Major Pullham of the Royal Irish Hussars, now wrapped up like Private Pullham of the Royal Irish Horse Shitscoopers. He was, by the rules of his class, in mufti.

He appoached, drew even with us, and then forwarded his way along.

“I will go on the advance,” said the professor. “You stay on this side of the street. I will look back at you, but never at him, for your signals. Understood?”

“Excellent,” I said, and that is just what we did. The professor dashed across Commercial, set himself up, and walked briskly a hundred feet ahead of the major. He never looked back at the major but looked across to me, as I had positioned myself fifty feet behind the man, though on the opposite side of the street. Block after block I signaled straight ahead. Passing Fashion Street, then Wentworth, the professor gambled that the major would go right on Whitechapel, and plunged around the corner without hesitation. The major cooperated and we continued our little game of tag down the avenue.

Another pause as he went into the Ten Bells, right on the corner of Commercial and Fournier, across from Spitalfields Market, and had a draft of beer while we twiddled thumbs outside in the lightly falling rain.

“I’m guessing he was checking for Peelers,” said the professor. “He goes around, checks for knots of them, for the direction of their foot patrols; he looks for plainclothesmen in the crowds. I’m also guessing he has a spot already picked out, one he’s not used before, and after he quaffs his fill, he’ll ease out, taking his time, and at a certain spot slide up to Judy and ask for her company. Agreeing, she’ll lead him into a dark alley or down a dark street. Having scouted, he’s anticipated her choice.”

“I follow,” I said.

“I think we should abandon our magic following trick. We might have to move faster. If he takes her into the alley, we have to be on the couple instantly. He never hesitates. He’ll go to knife, but before he can hurt her, we have to call him out and secure him. The gun will control the transaction.”

“Shouldn’t we alert a Bobby?”

“Do you think it wise?”

“Ah—” I considered, seeing as many pitfalls as possibilities. “I’m agnostic at this point.”

“Perhaps it’s too much to control. Following, interceding, capturing, restraining, and calling a Peeler? Too many tasks, easy to mix up or forget or execute without confidence. We’re on him now, exactly as we thought; we’ll play it out and take the prize.”

I swallowed involuntarily. I made a secret promise to myself not to get too close. The man was fast with the blade, and in a blinding second, before I had time to react, he’d have my heart in his hand, munching it like an apple. No, no, I told myself, Jeb, old boy, you think too highly of yourself to end up that way. Keep your distance, remember to cock the damned gun, and if he steps toward you, send him to hell. Be the hero. Welcome the endless love. Just remember to cock the damned gun!

We stood there, across from the pub and could see him hunched at the bar. In a bit, more people within moved about, obscuring him, but he couldn’t have come out, as there was only one exit.

“He’s coming,” said the professor. “Oh my God, he’s got one, he’s got a Judy!”

Indeed it was so. He emerged, dawdled, and in another few seconds a young woman came out, by her demeanor and wardrobe of the whore subset and the smaller still prey subset. She moseyed ahead until out of view of the patrons in the bar through the broad windows and, once in shadow, paused to look back. He leaped to her side with mock gallantry, which made her smile.

“Here we go,” said the professor.