Chapter 12
Miravati located the front door to her fathers' warehouse in only a few minutes; when not worrying if Aunti-ji would find fault in her posture or remind her of family expectations or otherwise counsel the wisdom of one's life choices, the walk was not as long as she'd remembered.
"Now, we must look up; to the stairways along the sides of the taller buildings, beyond the chimneys of the manufactories, toward the roof-lights. As I said, the light was reflected from inside, focused into a beam but because of the clouds, the light was cast back and in that reflection I saw shadows of men inside; many men, standing in a group, and one child; or, who I thought was a child."
Mira led her sister around their father's warehouse, widening their search past businesses that had closed for the day; locked factory gates; and down streets of aloof, incongruous rowhouses that backed onto industrial buildings.
"I don't see anything like you describe, Mira. And today is sunny; if there was a light, it wouldn't be reflected."
'No, but I would recognise the roof-light...there! At the end of this street, where it curves past the Timber Yard – the building with windows high in the walls. I think that is it; but I can't see the roof. Hirava, I'm going to cross through this alleyway and climb on that fence – do you see? You remain here; young girls shouldn't be walking through alleyways."
"I'm almost the same age as you. And I could help you climb the fence, and hold your legs so you don't fall."
"That's true. Come, but remain close and try not to scuff your boots. Aunti-ji would not be pleased."
The two crossed the alley as watchfully as they could; Miravati continuing to look up at opened windows and fire ladders, as if she were expecting someone; and Hirava eager to see anything an alley could hold, imagining things wonderful and terrible; but found only the backs of buildings and broken furniture and a stray and mangy cat.
"I can almost see the top" Miravati stated, looking behind and around a pile of wood shavings. "If I can balance on this fence, perhaps that will be tall enough. Hirava, hold my foot so it doesn't slip. I have nothing to hold onto but this small and forgotten tree."
"I have you, Mira! What do you see?"
"Yes, I see the roof-light...the very top of it. It is the same I remember. And something...hold me steady..."
"What da ya' girls think you're doin'?"
Miravati couldn't turn without losing her balance, but the man Hirava saw, of medium height and no distinct features, wore a set of overalls and poorly fitting-shirt and common flat cap. His lips were pulled back almost as those of an angry dog and although only slighter taller than herself, the shotgun he waved above his head made him look twice as large.
"I said, watch'a girls doin'? This 'ere's private property. Bossman's don' like no visitor's; least not any that plan on leavin'."
"Run, Hirava! Run to the station!" Mira shouted.
"Mira, jump down!"
"My boot is stuck; I cannot move my foot."
" 'Ere, what's ya find, Poole?" said a second man, rounding the corner. "Trespassers?"
"Looks like trespassers ta' me" a third man said, following his companion. "Bossman will wanna know what's they seen."
"Leave me, Hirava – run! I'm sorry."
"No, Mira..." Hirava glanced down the alleyway and up toward the windows for help, but saw no one. She looked at the ground for a weapon or stick or rock, but found nothing.
" 'N it's two young one's, to boot. If you like dark meat!" the second man laughed, wiping his chin on his sleeve. "Bossman don't have to know about 'em right away..."
"Don't mind dark, long as it's fresh."
"Mira! I've untied your boot – jump! Jump now!"
Miravati slipped from her boot and the top of the fence, hitting the ground hard with one knee but was pulled to her feet by her sister. The third man shoved aside broken crates stacked against the fence and leapt over the top, landing on his feet and reached out for Miravati, who pulled aside despite the pain in her leg, and began hobbling, injured and with one shoe, down the alley, Hirava tightly grasping her hand and pulling her along. Behind them, the second man had cleared the fence and together with the third, bolted forward, making up two steps for the women's every one. Miravati could hear the deep, rasping breaths behind her and began to think how she could protect both Hirava and herself, realising that with one leg, she could defend neither. Hirava struggled toward the end of the alleyway, where three streets converged and two curved in opposite directions and there were backyards to hide in and not far away traffic and businesses and people; she stumbled against a splintered and abandoned table but pushed it away and kept on.
Mrewwerr!
The stray and mangy cat; along with two in similar condition; jumped from behind the table, directly in front of the pursuing men, tripping one and frightening another.
"Wha' th'...damn cats" the second man said, kicking out at a cat that was long gone. "Come on, Poole, can't let 'em get away."
Miravati and Hirava exited the alley and turned left; the most obvious direction, but also the direction toward the station.
"Mirava, hurry! They won't chase us to the station...will they?" She called out, gasping.
"I do not know, but we cannot take the risk. Keep running...even if I cannot."
"No, Mirava, you WILL!"
Along the sidewalks and traffic the two young women; both in tightly-wrapped clothing, one gasping and dragging the other whose sari was bloodied at the knee and was wearing only one boot; felt even more exposed than they had in the alleyway. But the railway station was only a few yards ahead, and as they climbed the stairs and crowded in among other passengers waiting for the train, they each took deep, clearing breaths even as they looked side to side and anxiously at the stairs, expecting any moment one, or two, or three men would arrive to carry them away.
The train jerked forward and back and wrenched side to side and moved slowly; but every action assured Miravati and Hirava they were traveling further from those men and closer to home.
"Behen, I am sorry. I should not have brought you; I was foolish and irresponsible. This was too dangerous, and you could have been injured. If that were to happen, I could never seek forgiveness."
"But we are fine, didi. Other than your leg, which we should be thankful is not broken, we are fine. And it was dangerous, but also exciting!"
"What of Mama, and Papa, and Auntie-ji? What will we tell them of my ruined sari and missing boot and why we left the house?"
"But you saw the roof-light, did you not? So you have not forsaken your friends." Hirava glanced down at her boots which were dusty and scratched and on the bottom, held evidence of stray and mangy alleyway cats. "Auntie-ji will not be pleased...about our clothing, and about everything else. But we will think of something, Mira. We always have."
"Yes, I recognised the roof-light and the building...and, just before those men arrived, something more. I believe I saw...him."
"Him?"
"The little man; I saw him looking out a window. He was looking at us. The little man Mr. Sherlock Holmes seeks."
Chapter 13
No one should have suspected five boys idly standing just beyond the corner of Leeman and Allie Streets, steps away from the German / American School and certainly nearer to a school than most of these boys had ever been. But in Whitechapel, many years after the occurrences, the only suggestion of the Ripper many would dare mention; anyone passing through the area anticipated trouble and locals looked over their shoulders and carefully noted any unfamiliar face. Nevertheless the five boys, none yet accustomed to their teens and two continuing to aspire to that age, while unmistakable as local lads still drew glances of concern resulting in passers-by crossing to the other side of the street. Soap, it appeared, was to these boys an unfamiliar luxury; neatness an unknown concept; and what could be seen of their mis-matched and poorly-fitting clothes consisted of patches covering forgotten holes and newly-formed holes awaiting future patching.
"How long we gotta wait here?"
"Mr. 'Olmes said 'ed be by at one-a-clock."
"Wha' timesit now?"
"Can't be much past one. Didn' you read the clock at the 'ospital?"
"Was lookin' in the street for bits 'n bobs. Can' be doin' both together."
Marbles Jack; among friends known simply as 'Jack', just as the others answered to: 'Stinks'; 'Pockets'; 'Lil', to his continual frustration; and...'Arthur', had better things to do than hang about one of the poorest street corners in London when there were far more rewarding street corners available, and Pockets was just about to suggest it wasn't necessary for all of them to wait when Mr. Holmes' business was with Jack; when a down-on-his luck sailor rounded the corner, pushing his way into the group.
"Ya boys wouldn' know 'bout any ships lookin' for a good han', would ya'? he garbled. Only the slightest smell of alcohol was on his breath, so the man probably wasn't drunk, and he was able to walk and stand on his two feet, although not well, so his mind probably wasn't befuddled by cocaine or any other substances from foreign lands.
'Some kinda kook', Pockets assumed;
'One of 'em bluejackets that's got thrown out', Lil decided;
'Punchy from too much fightin', Stinks thought;
'Wonder if 'e's got any money on 'em', Arthur questioned;
'Looks kinda hungry', Jack concluded.
"Says inside they's got help for men that's needs it, but jus' tell me I ain't got no more help comin'. What kinda reliefers is that, promise a man somethin' then don't give 'em nothin'. I'm a good han' only need me a capt'n that'll give me a chance." He held forward his hands, swollen and broken and red where they weren't grey and grimed, but the boys turned away, pitying a man who had fallen so far while at the same time envying the experiences of his descent.
"Haven' heard 'a nothin', Mister" Jack answered. "Things been kinda slow, what with all them army ships comin' in. Docks full 'a Limeys an' Red-Caps, don' give a man a chance. 'A course, you can always try..."
"Pardon me, may I be of assistance?"
Dressed in black frock coat and matching pants, both well-cared for but shiny and beginning to thin, the man appeared from nowhere. Hatless, his hair was generously greased and parted in the middle; he wore a pair of rimless glasses balanced at the end of his nose, above a generous mustache connected directly to his sideburns which further accentuated his already rounded cheeks. He moved purposely but reassuringly, taking the sailors arm in one hand and placing the other at his back. There was no knowing his age; he could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty; his most distinctive feature was the crisp, white collar standing above his lapels.
"Naw, sir, I was jus' talkin' with them boys, askin' if they know 'a work. Aren't causin' no trouble, I aren't." He started to pull away, but the clergyman's grip was tight.
"We all face difficult times; and each of us is our brothers keeper" he said in a throaty and subdued voice. "How long has it been since you've had a good meal, my friend?"
"Don' know. Four, maybe five day."
"Well, a man can't work on an empty stomach! Come with me; our mission is just a few buildings away."
"I aren't one for that bible-teachin', Father" the sailor stumbled, his lack of religious knowledge extending to pastoral identification.
"Only one man helping another, my friend" the clergyman replied. "The only Bible involved are the words shared with us by yet another, simple Man: 'Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you: do ye even so to them." He urged the sailor forward, with little resistance.
"And what of each of you?" the minister added, turning back toward the boys.
"Us?"
"I would say a good meal and brush-up would do each of you a bit of good. Get you off the streets, perhaps open your minds and re-fresh your souls."
"We don' need nothin', Mister", Pockets answered.
"Go'in do yur bible-thumpin' somwheres else", Lil agreed.
"What ya' think we are, a bunch a hoodlums?", Arthur added.
"I see. Then if those Dock Authority Officers I was speaking with earlier should ask if I've seen any boys on the cusp of mischief, I'll know those boys, aren't you."
"We ain' done nothin'!", Stinks protested.
"And that, your current lack of purpose, is of great concern" Sherlock Holmes replied, lowering his voice and looking directly at Jack. "Many duties await with comparatively few hours in which those duties can be discharged. One can't lallyabout street corners when there are crimes to be solved. Come along."
"If we was comin' over 'ere, then why did you want us ta' meet ya' on the streetcorner, Mr. 'Olmes?" Jack questioned, sitting alongside the other four boys at the only open table of the crowded mission opposite, to anyone who noticed, a dedicated and well-meaning minister clearly attempting to convince the boys of Greater Truths.
"My boys," Holmes began far too loudly but quickly fell to a conspiratorial whisper, "not by that name, Jack. You know I only present myself incognito for specific reasons, and while in this costumed state no one should be aware of my true identity. Arranging to meet at one of the most well-traveled yet disreputable corners was obvious; anyone observing with the expectation of discovering our purpose would have, after a sufficient amount of time, believed you were not awaiting my arrival but only looking for a handout or seeking, as you would say, 'interesting opportunities'." He looked at each of the other boys, none of which would directly meet his glance. "The unanticipated conversation with your sea-faring acquaintance provided further opportunity to disguise our purposes and allowed a good deed to be done. Such occasions should never be wasted."
Jack tilted his chair on its back legs, turned his head to the left and saw the sailor had been given a tray of food, steaming mug, and blanket, relishing all three.
"Anyone expecting a meeting between myself and my so-named 'Irregulars', each of whom are well-known throughout London by those on both sides of the law, would now be ruefully disappointed for at this moment I am at the University of London attending a fascinating lecture concerning, I believe, recent innovations in surgical anesthesias. Pity that Watson is out of the country and unable to accompany me."
"So yur sayin' we're bein' watched, Mr...uh, Mr...Minister?" Pockets asked, looking from one side of the room to the next even as his neck and shoulders shrunk into his coat.
"Assuredly. There should be no reason not."
"Why?" Stinks added.
"Because those women, well-meaning but unknowing, have stumbled upon a scheme larger than even I first imagined; and by their actions which succeeded only in the removal of insignificant street-toughs, have upset a proverbial wasps nest which, if not prevented, could undermine the well-being of all of London."
"Sounds pretty bad" Arthur declared.
"That would be an understatement" Holmes agreed. "Based upon the information uncovered earlier today, I have cultivated an understanding of the true nature of this criminality, and am formulating a complementary plan in which you all have a part. But this is not the place for such discussions; I would like each of you, individually and by your own methods; to report to Baker Street this evening between the hours of four and four-fifteen. It is imperative that in a few moments, each of you depart by separate ways and do nothing to cause attention to yourselves, even if that involves doing little for the upcoming hours than wondering aimlessly while remaining within the law."
"Ah, wekindo tha', uh, Sir." Lil offered.
"I have little doubt. Any questions?"
The boys looked between one another but none spoke.
"As an additional incentive, know that by the time each of you arrive Mrs. Hudson will have prepared tea and she bears no tardiness. And to that," Holmes' voice gradually grew louder until it was obvious to all in the room, "may I have an 'Amen!'"
"Amen!" the five boys shouted in unison.