Chapter 2
When Izzy woke that morning at seven o'clock she had to stop herself getting out of bed and walking off to work. She sat up, and realised that she still had her coat on, and took it off, together with her suit jacket.
She heard a buzzing noise and for a moment was unsure what it was. Then, she realised that the noise had come from her handbag and reached down to find that she had several unread messages on her mobile phone. The first was from Peter. It read; Just off to work. Hope you are enjoying your lie in. Expect to hear from my lawyer today about charges of assault. Pete. Izzy shook her head in disgust and deleted the message. The next one was from Janey saying, Hope all OK. Heard what happened from our idiot older brother. Do you want me to come round? X. Izzy replied, saying no, she was alright, and was going to meet with a friend of the Commissioner today. The third message was from Barnaby. It said Hi, are you alright? Want to talk? Call me, will not be in lectures all of today. Love Barney. Izzy grinned. She was far closer to her younger brother than either of her other siblings, because they were similar. They both felt threatened by the success of their older brother and sister. Izzy replied that she would call Barney that evening, but that he had better go to his lectures, no matter how boring they were.
The last, and latest message she had received was from DCI Summers. Izzy, It read, Do you want to come out for a drink tonight? Maybe it would be good to talk? Hope you can join me, 8pm at the Carver's Arms? Dan. Izzy sighed, realising that her boss was, for better or worse, trying to be helpful and sent a message back telling him thank you, but no thanks. She stretched out on the bed, and fell back to sleep for a few hours. At nine o'clock, she woke again, and decided that now was as good a time as any to get up. She dressed, and ate breakfast, and resigned herself to a morning watching trashy daytime TV.
Suddenly, the phone went. Izzy sighed, expecting it to be Janey or Barnaby wanting to talk, but it was neither. "Is this Miss Byrne?" said the voice. It was the voice of a man, although it was difficult to tell the age, deep and steady.
"Yes."
"My name is Lastoric. Please be at my office by eleven o'clock today. Thank you."
"Mr Last…" But Lastoric had rung off. "Oh, OK then." Izzy said to herself. She was in two minds at that moment. She shouldn't really go…it could be dangerous. But the Detective in Izzy wanted to know what was going on. She looked up at the clock. It would take her half an hour to get to the offices at this time of day. If she was going to go, she'd better go now. Making her decision, Izzy pulled her jacket on, and went out the door, running to the tube station, and getting the tube to Knightsbridge Station.
When she got to the high street, she made her way through the crowds of morning shoppers to the end of the shopping area, where she found Anthony Street. To her disappointment, it looked like quite an ordinary street, full of solicitors offices, and doctors surgeries. She thought about turning back then, but decided that since she had come all that way, she may as well satisfy her curiosity about this Lastoric person. She found number 17, and looked up. The house was typical for London, three floors, and painted a creamy colour. She knocked on the door, and it opened. A woman stood there. "Yes?" she said.
"I'm here to see a Mr Lastoric. I think he's expecting me."
"Oh, yes. Miss Byrne. Please come in. My name is Mrs White. Come with me."
Mrs White led Izzy up the stairs, and knocked on a door, which had gold letters on it reading 'M.Lastoric'. "Come in" said a voice, and they entered.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and only electric light coming from two lamps on the desk. Izzy could see a figure sitting on a chair at the desk. As Mrs White announced her, Lastoric leaned into the light, and Izzy felt a slightly disappointed. He was not gruesomely scared or in any way unusual looking. He was about forty, with grey hair, and blue eyes. He wore glasses, and put Izzy in mind of a professor who had taught her at university. "Ah, yes," he said "Miss Byrne. Please sit down. Refreshments?"
"Er…no thanks."
"I hear you recently lost your job. I am sorry. The commissioner told me that you are a fine Detective."
Izzy shook her head "Not as fine as my brother, it seems."
Lastoric smiled "Ah, yes. Your brother. Arrogant, self-righteous…that describe him?"
"Amply"
"There is a reason, Miss Byrne, that the Commissioner sent you here instead of your brother. I would like to offer you a job."
"No offence, sir, but I can't really see myself as a Private Detective."
"Ah, Miss Byrne…there is so much more…"
"Sir?"
"You see, Miss Byrne, the reason we asked you to come here and not your brother is simple. You, I feel, will be much more open to what we do here."
"And what is that?"
"Solve crimes which have never been solved by the police."
"Oh?" Izzy was more interested by this. She had always had an interest in unsolved crimes. Especially ones her brother had never been able to solve.
"Very old unsolved crimes…"
"But how? Do you work with the police?"
"In a way… May I ask you, Miss Byrne, where do you live?"
"Baker Street…number 22."
"Ah! Now that's interesting. In answer to your question, Miss Byrne, we solve them by re-visiting the crime scene"
"Oh?"
"Yes. At the time the crimes took place."
Izzy stared at him for a moment, and then started to laugh. "What? You can't mean…"
"Oh, yes, Miss Byrne. I mean we go back in time"
Izzy shook her head. The man was obviously absolutely raving mad. "You mean…like Doctor Who?"
"He had the right idea, the Doctor…"
"I'm sorry, I can't…" Izzy got up.
"Do you think the Commissioner would have sent you here if I am as mad as you imagine?"
OK, thought Izzy, don't anger him. Just get out. "I don't think you're mad, sir. I just think I'd better be going…"
"I have seen your past, Isabella. I now that your family has a dark secret…"
Izzy stopped, and turned. Warily, she looked back at Lastoric, who was staring her in the face. She walked back to her chair, and sat "What do you know about me?"
"I know that you're half-Irish and half-Spanish. I know that your parents were Michael Byrne and Katarina Delgardas. I know that you have three siblings, Peter, Janey and Barnaby - or Barney as he likes to be known. I know that you went to school in London, and went to University in London too, where you studied Law and sociology. I know that you are twenty-five years old"
"The Commissioner could have told you all those things…"
"I know that there is one reason why you and all of your siblings went into the field of law - two of you into the police, one as a barrister, one aspiring to be a government operative. It is because your father killed your mother." Izzy stared at him for a moment, wondering how…and why? "How old were you? Eight? Your oldest brother was fifteen, your sister eleven, and young Barney was only one year old. A child in arms. You all hid in the cupboard while your father killed your mother and then himself. You never got over it."
Izzy nodded. "You saw…you saw my past…"
"Yes. I am sorry if you feel that it was an intrusion."
"No. I suppose it was the only way…"
"You believe me?"
"I have to. We never told anyone about what happened that night. No one ever knew." Izzy's felt, strangely, a feeling of relief come over her. This man wasn't mad after all. He was telling the truth.
"Will you help me then? I have one mission that I am not suited to. It's just the one."
"Tell me."
"What do you know of Jack the Ripper?"
"Serial killer. Murdered at least five prostitutes, possibly even more. Took place around 1888."
"Very good. You know your history."
"Did it at school."
"That might serve you very well. The Ripper was never found, and it has been suggested that he changed his mode of killing several times, and carried on, right into the 1900s."
"Is that true?"
"It might be. That's why I would be sending you. I'd place you in the spot of the last known Ripper killing. You would have to investigate further deaths, and try and catch him. It would be dangerous, I warn you."
"I understand. Would you be coming?"
"No. I am older than I look, child. Too old now…"
"Then I'd be alone?"
"There's always the police…and Mr Holmes"
"Holmes?"
"A private investigator. Chronicled by his friend, John Watson…"
"I thought…"
"He was fictional? No. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a friend of Watson's, who published the books in his own name, in exchange for paying for publication. He also worked on the Ripper case. It was one of the only cases he never solved."
"Then I would be helping him?"
"If it came to it. It might be easier for you to work on your own."
"One minute - I'm a woman, wouldn't that limit what I can or can't do? If I'm out at night alone, people might think I'm a prostitute - or worse, Old Jack might."
"You would have to wear men's clothes, cover half your face with a scarf, wear a hat, speak in a deeper voice…"
Izzy nodded "How long would I be gone?"
"That" said Lastoric "is entirely up to you."
Izzy looked at him "I need time to think."
"Come back tonight at eight if you have made your decision."
Izzy nodded, picked up her coat and left the house, walking to one of the nearby parks. When she got there, she sat down on the grass and looked across the park. "What do I do?" she said to herself. "What on earth do I do?" She sat there four some time, before getting up to get some lunch, and then wandering aimlessly around Chelsea. At about half seven, her phone rang. She looked at the screen. It was Barney. "Hey, Barney" she said, answering it.
"Hey, Iz. How are you."
"Good. You? Lectures go OK?"
"Boring as usual. Something up? You sound thoughtful"
"I've been offered a job, and I don't know whether to take it."
"Is it a good job?"
"Very. A friend of the Commissioner."
"Well, that's great. Take it."
"There's one problem. I'd have to go away. Tonight, and I don't know when I'd be back. You wouldn't be able to ring me."
"It's secret?"
"Yep."
"Wow, that's so much better than the Met. Pete will be furious."
"You think I should take it then?"
"Definitely. It sounds like it'll make you happy. In fact, I know it will. You shouldn't worry about us. We'll be OK. Go, and have a great time."
"You'll tell Janey I love her? And the kids?"
"Of course. I love you Izzy. Good luck"
"You too, Barney. Love you."
Izzy rang off and glanced at her watch. It was ten to eight. Making her decision, she ran down the street to Anthony Street, where she banged on the door, and was quickly ushered in by Mrs White. She was taken into a room with some sort of machine in it. Lastoric was at the controls, and in the centre of the room was a round tiled area on the floor, which was lit up. Lastoric looked up as she entered the room, and looked relieved. "No time to talk. Get behind there and change into these clothes. I've put a bag together for you with mission objectives, money and some equipment, including a revolver, that will help you. You can take your phone, but nothing else." Izzy nodded, ran behind a screen, and got changed into some Victorian era men's clothes. She put the scarf and hat on so only her eyes were showing, and tied up her long, black hair so that it fit under the hat. She put her phone into the trouser pocket, and received the bag from Lastoric. "Good luck" he said "Your phone will be able to make calls to this time, but not receive them. I am placing you at the sight of the murder of the fifth victim. Good luck."
"Thanks," said Izzy. She went to stand on the tiled floor, as Lastoric pushed some buttons. Everything seemed to fade away, and was replaced by another scene. The middle of the night. On a towpath by the side of the Thames. And a dead girl on the floor at her feet. She took a moment to adjust, and then bent down to study the girl. She was only young, no older than thirty, with blonde hair. Her throat had been cut. She studied the wound. It had been made with a perforated knife. As she looked at the girl, she heard footsteps behind her. She then realised how this would look. A man, bending over the body of a murdered girl…
She stood up, and saw that approaching were two men. They were some way away and not close enough to see their faces, but she was sure they had seen her. One of the figures was shorter, more stocky, in a jacket and bowler hat. The other was taller, leaner, dressed in some sort of great coat and top hat and carrying a cane. She heard them speak "Another murder…" said the stocky man.
"And the Ripper…" said the other man.
"Oh, no" Izzy muttered, and started backwards. The men started to run towards her, and she ran too, trying to go as fast as she could before they could catch her. As she ran, she slipped, and started to fall towards the black waters of the Thames…