04 – Arsonist
17th November 1904
THICK, damp fog drifted through the streets, wetting every surface with heavy droplets that trickled from eaves and lampposts like ghostly rain before merging into large puddles on the roads and paths. At this early hour, no decent citizen was abroad, save for a few late hunters who now had to hurry to avoid missing the start of the hunt. No one noticed the man standing at the crossroads. His brown coat and wide-brimmed hat helped him blend into the darkness, his face little more than a shadow.
A small, plain pipe dangled from the corner of his mouth. He kept shifting it nervously from one side to the other, occasionally taking it out and staring at the cold tobacco as though hoping it might somehow make time pass.
At last, he took some matches from his coat and lit the tobacco in his pipe. Only for the brief moment when the flame flared on the match was his face visible, revealing the dark circles beneath his eyes. He glanced anxiously along the street, watching for any unwanted witnesses. Water from the fog dripped from his hat as he slowly exhaled smoke through his mouth and nose. He sniffed, audibly sucked the snot back up his nose, and spat.
“What’s taking so long?“ he muttered nervously, turning toward the post office he was keeping watch over. During the day, the street had buzzed like a beehive, but now everything was swallowed by complete darkness.
Then he saw flames flickering in the narrow windows of the telegraph tower, its cables disappearing into the night like a web.
“At last,“ the man murmured, pulling the collar of his coat higher. From another street came the sound of horse hooves, and he glanced along the road, alert. A carriage with yellow lanterns on the box approached the main street at some distance but, fortunately, turned off in another direction, vanishing into the darkness.
The man had little fear of policemen; his employer had assured him the constables would be stationed at the North Gate, busy overseeing the hunting party.
And so the hour had come for men like him, who were here for one very specific reason.
The nature of the job mattered little to him; only the payment did. Three figures emerge
d from the post office’s cellar. Two carried lanterns.
All three were wrapped in black coats, their heads concealed beneath hoods or hats pulled low over their faces. They hurried across, and the man who had been keeping watch joined their escape without a word. They ran through the next few streets before gradually approaching the agreed meeting place. It lay in the northern quarter, not far from the North Gate.
Their employer stood at the end of an alley where numerous large barrels had been stacked. As during their first meeting at the pub, he concealed himself behind a broad grey scarf and a hat pulled low over his face. He was a bear of a man, however, his coat stretched tight across his broad shoulders like a sack filled with coal.
Beside him on the ground was an oil lamp, its dim light casting long, dark shadows in the alley. In one hand, the employer held a leather bag; the other was buried in the hair of a bound woman. She was gagged, her eyes covered with a tear-soaked blindfold, quietly sobbing.
For a brief moment the man felt a flicker of pity, but he pushed it aside irritably.
Everyone took what they could. There was no room for softness in this trade.
“Were you successful?“ asked the employer.
“The whole place will be ablaze soon,“ the man with the pipe promised. “No one saw us.“
“Good.“ The employer dropped the bag at his feet.
“As agreed – eighty pounds. And this little apple tart as a bonus.“
He tilted the woman’s head to present her more clearly, then let go. She immediately tried to crawl away, but one of the accomplices, a heavyset fellow, stepped in swiftly and cut off her attempt.
The employer turned to leave. “Once you remove the blindfold, make sure she’s silenced. Otherwise, I’ll silence you.” The warning was unmistakable, and all four men exchanged meaningful glances. None of them would risk angering the stranger. Besides, the assignment had been extremely lucrative, and anyone willing to pay out so much money must have plenty more where that came from. Naturally, the four hoped their loyal service had earned them enough favour with their employer for him to call upon them again before long.
“I hope we’ve done this job to your satisfaction,“ the man with the pipe called after him.
“Certainly,“ the employer replied before melting once more into the darkness.
Immediately, the four opened the small bag and counted the money. Eighty pounds! Twenty each, plus a free fuck as a bonus. Could the day get any better?
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