Chapter 26 – A Framing in Whitechapel Part 1
~~~~September 29, 1888~~~~
Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good Luck. Yours truly Jack the Ripper
Dont mind me giving the trade name
PS Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha
James read through the note over and over again, it was driving him mad! This murderer was so taunting, as if he knew exactly what buttons to push that would send James' nostrils flaring. This letter was proof of how devious he was, how cruel and maniacal.
What had started out with a severe stabbing and assault nearly two months ago had escalated to the most brutal murders the experienced detective had ever seen.
Three women murdered by this Jack the Ripper. How many more women would he take before he was caught?
"If you read that letter one more time you're going to give yourself a brain aneurism, Jim," said Nigel from across the table.
"I don't get it, I just don't get it, he kills Tabram, August 7th, then there is nothing in Whitechapel for weeks then, right at the end of the month, he kills Nichols. Except, this time he takes a prize. Then Chapman no more than a week later, and each time the brutality is worsened but his method gets cleaner. I don't get it, what is he practicing on these women for?"
"Maybe you're wrong about Tabram, maybe she wasn't murdered by the same fella. It could've been some kid taking his rage out on some innocent woman," suggested Nigel.
"No, it's not that. No, Tabram was his first go, a test run, a stabbing. The brutality fed him but he was not satisfied by it, it was too sloppy, too quick. So he studies, figures it out, because he's smart. When he feels like he's ready he goes out again, back to Whitechapel. Nichols murder is brutal and vicious but clean and skilled, but it takes two slashes to sever the neck; he was nervous it's understandable. Then he returns a week later, his technique perfected. One slash, one swift motion; that is the power he feeds on. This letter is in response to Scotland Yard's idea to stem public panic. He's arrogant! He wants full credit for his work; he thinks he is some vigilante ridding the world of the unclean. The bastard thinks he's a saint!"
"Because he's perfected his craft on killing whores? But why, what's his motive?" asked Nigel.
"Lord knows why. He could be impotent, feels like women are a threat to him, maybe one laughed at him and his inadequacy…maybe he's taking out his rage on these women because of something someone much closer did to him," listed off James.
"So, he's murdering these ladies because one girl laughed at his shortcomings," laughed Nigel.
"Or his mother abused him when he was younger. These type of men aren't healthy, Nigel, they don't think like rational men such as ourselves," said James.
"Sound like petty, cowardly, bastard to me," shrugged Nigel.
"I'm almost sure he's practicing for some ultimate target, the oe his anger is truly directed to," muttered James.
"James, put that infernal letter away, I would like to have one breakfast where the conversation is not hounded by this Whitechapel killer," said Helen as John escorted her in.
"And good morning to you, love birds, sleep in long enough?" teased Nigel.
Helen blushed.
"Don't try to deny it John, the residential corridors, though spacious, are not soundproof," said James, tucking his papers back into his briefcase.
"Especially to an insomniac like James here," Nigel smirked.
"I hope we didn't keep you up, old boy," teased John.
"No, it wasn't you," James looked at his briefcase with sad, troubled eyes.
Helen knew he was still puzzling over that case.
John pulled out her chair and she sat down in it, patting his hand affectionately. He sat in the chair next to her.
"Guess who's sworn off all women?" laughed Nigel suddenly, rifling through the paper with a snicker.
"Who?" asked John.
"Our old friend, Tesla, according to the papers he's gone as celibate as a priest, putting his work above all else," chuckled Nigel.
"Another topic I don't wish to discuss at the table, please refrain from speaking about that boor to me," growled Helen.
"Oh right, we're shunning him," muttered James.
"He doesn't want to be part of this team anymore, so be it! He is a stranger and shall be treated as such," Helen poured herself a cup of tea.
"James, small question. When was that last murder in Whitechapel?" asked John.
"John, please," Helen sighed,
"Just one last question Helen, I promise," assured John.
"In that case, I'm going to fetch more biscuits," Helen stood up brusquely and marched out.
As soon as she was gone John turned to James.
"So, what is it old boy?" asked John.
"It was the 8th, I believe," said James.
"Hmm…interesting," said John.
"How do you mean?" James looked at John curiously.
"This will sound awful weird, but I could've sworn I saw Nikola walking the streets that day," said John.
"What are you insinuating?" James eyes John weirdly.
"You told me about your theory about Tabram and the others; he progression, the perfecting his method, no motive except for blood…"
"Are you saying Tesla is the Whiterchapel murderer?" asked Nigel.
"Maybe not willingly, who knows what control he has over the beast inside him…just hear me out. The letter you received, it was mark the 17th, you received it a week later, which by express mail covers the distance for a letter to travel from New York to London, approximately…"
"Go on," James listened carefully.
"We've seen the extent of Nikola's abilities; he's fast, strong, and uncontrolled…"
"Enough to get in, mutilate, then get out unnoticed," added Nigel, his eyes widening.
"And you've established the killer's pattern. He kills either on weekends or at the end of the month. It is almost the end of the month, and guess whose in town promoting his AC generator alongside his backer George Westinghouse?"
James sat and puzzled over the information.
"My dear John, you've been keeping an eye on our old friend," said James with a quizzical expression.
"Only since it occurred to me that he's been making regular trips to fair London for the past month," said John seriously.
"It works! The break between Tabram and Nichols…" cried Nigel.
"His stint with Edison's electric chair," added James.
"It adds up, doesn't it Jimmy," said John.
"No, wait! Why would he murder whores? If anything he'd murder electricians," said James shaking his head.
"Loveless, nameless targets he can practice on," shrugged John.
"And if I'm right in guessing he's perfecting his method on some ultimate goal, who could that possibly be?"
Realization dawned on all three of them.
"Helen," James vocalized what they were all thinking.
"Exactly, the old boy has always carried a torch for her," nodded John.
"Maybe the electric nap caused him to snap?" said Nigel.
"Or his possessiveness towards her, remember what he said when he had turned," said John.
"He said something along the lines of She's Mine, no one can have her," nodded James.
"It's enough to bring him in for questioning," said John.
"You bastards!" cried Helen from behind them, she was standing in the archway, face turning red with anger.
"Uh, how much of that did you hear?" asked Nigel nervously.
"Enough," she glared at the three of them. "How dare you assume Nikola to be some murderer!"
"The evidence is there, and we're not saying he did it, but it does raise some suspicions," James stood up and went over to her.
"Your suspicions are base and foundationless!" she fumed.
"Helen, he might not be doing this as a conscious effort, it could very well be that creature inside him. We barely understand the nature of vampires, or the predilection for violence, it could be way out of his control," said James calmly.
"He stopped for a bit, maybe something about electricity kept it at bay," added Nigel.
"There is too much at risk not to ask," said John, taking his fiancés hand in his. "He could be coming after you next."
Helen looked at John for a long moment.
"John, it's Nikola," she said softly.
"Which is exactly why we have to find him before Scotland Yard does," said James.
"It's for his own safety, as well as theirs," added Nigel.
"Alright, but we do it the nice way first," she looked at them sternly.
"Do we know where he is?" asked James.
"I've kept in contact with Westinghouse ever since I made light of my suspicions, I know exactly where he is," nodded John.
"Take me there, let me talk to him first, hopefully I can convince him to come back here and let us check him over," said Helen.
"And if that doesn't work?" asked Nigel.
"John we teleport me back here pick you two up and you three can go after him guns a-blazing," she sighed.
They nodded in agreement.
"We'll be ready for him," said James he gestured to Nigel and they ran out of the room.
John watched as Helen took a long, deep breath.
"You don't have to do this Helen, I can fetch him on my own," said John.
"No, if he'll listen to reason, he'll listen to me," she sighed walking out of the room and collecting her pistol from its stand.
"Just in case," she assured John.
She opened up the jacket and slipped the pistol inside before buttoning it back up again.
"Alright, I'm ready," she nodded to John and he took her hand.
~~~~Across Town~~~~
Nikola excused himself from the meeting, he claimed having to use the bathroom, when really he just wanted to get away from all the people. They were stuffy and pushy, demanding he show them the best he had to offer, he had to show them because they were key to worldwide distribution of his patents.
He'd been in meetings with them for months, using London as neutral ground, he'd disliked all the travel as it took him away from his lab almost every weekend since the middle of august.
It was all part of Westinghouse's plan, to win the battle of the currents, in Nikola's mind though, he had already won by showing up a week after his abduction and staring Edison straight in the eye.
The halls of the building were long and winding and he quietly stalked through the corridors to get some breathing room.
He turned the corner and was met with two familiar faces, and an even more familiar barrel of a pistol pointed straight at his heart.
"Helen? John?" he froze, not really wanting to be shot again.
"Nikola, we have to talk," said Helen, her finger on the trigger.
"What about?" asked Nikola, gulping audibly, he wasn't scared, just very confused.
"Come with us and we won't have to cause a ruckus," Helen said sternly.
Nikola looked past the gun at her.
"Helen? What is this about?" he asked cautiously.
"That's what we're here to find out, so you either come with us willingly or we take you by force," Helen was not kidding, the tone of her voice said as much.
"I don't know what you think I have done now, but you're wrong," he sighed attempting to push by them but John blocked his path. "Let me go, Helen!"
"I can't do that, Nikola, I have some questions I need answers for," she glared at him.
"Then ask them!" he growled.
"Does the name Mary Ann Nichols ring a bell?" asked Helen.
"What?" Nikola looked at her funny.
"What about Annie Chapman?" she asked, bitterness creeping into her tone.
"I have no idea what you are referring to," Nikola growled and turned to head the other way but John teleported and blocked his path again.
"Stop lying to me Nikola, I could always tell when you were lying to me," she growled, her grip on the pistol growing tighter.
"I'm not lying!" he growled with frustration. "You have no right to treat me like this!"
"Fine, Nikola! I tried to be civil, and I'm sorry, but I need you to come with me, whether you like it or not," Helen nodded to John who immediately teleported her away then teleported back grabbing Nikola from behind.
Nikola felt a small pinch at the back of his neck and suddenly he felt himself starting to morph into his vampiric form.
"Gigs up, old boy," whispered John.
They teleported back into the Sanctuary.
Upon re-entry Nikola snarled breaking loose of John's grip and lunging for him.
Two pairs of strong hands grabbed Nikola's arm, ripping open the sleeves and injecting a sedative into his arm.
"As soon as I teleported you away he went crazy," shouted John as Nikola lowered to his knees, the sedative only calming him down, allowing him to morph back into his human form.
"I guess that answers a few questions," said Nigel.
Nikola struggled weakly to break free from James and Nigel's grip.
"Let go of me!" he cried.
"You're out of control, Nikola!" cried James.
"It's not me!" Nikola growled, trying to yank his arms away.
"You're the ripper, aren't you Nikola?" asked John, leaning in front of Nikola.
"Ripper? What?" Nikola looked him in the eyes.
"That black-eyed demon in you has a nasty taste for bloodlust," continued John.
"I've been taking my medication! I have no idea what you're talking about," Nikola vamped just enough to garner strength to push off James and Nigel.
"We've been tracking your movement, you were here around the time of every murder, a murder committed by those claws!" shouted John.
"I haven't murdered anyone!" Nikola shouted back.
"Tell that to the beast that tried to attack Helen, if I hadn't teleported her away," John brought his fist straight into contact with Nikola's stomach.
Nikola coughed and sputtered.
"John, stop!" shouted Helen. She was standing a ways away watching all of it. Seeing Nikola so out of control confirmed it to her, he had killed those women, she felt it in her gut.
She gritted her teeth and walked, slowly, powerfully up to Nikola.
"Helen..." whimpered Nikola.
Helen brought her hand back; the slap echoed off the walls of the main lab, it was cold and hard, and angry, just like she felt.
"How could you, Nikola?" she asked harshly.
"No, Helen, I didn't…"
"Stop lying to me! I am sick of hearing it, Nikola!" she glared fiercely at him. "How dare you act like you're the victim, after what you did to those women."
"Helen, you know me. I may be many things but I am not a murderer," he pleaded.
"Take him away, restrain him fully," she ordered to James and Nigel.
They nodded.
"No! Helen! I am not a murderer!" cried Nikola as the two men dragged him away. "Helen! You know I didn't do it! I am not a murderer!" he cried, desperation running through him.
Helen closed her eyes, tears falling down her cheeks; she turned her face so he wouldn't see them, trying to drown him out.
"Helen! I am not a murderer! It's John! IT'S JOHN! I am not a murderer!"
His voice finally faded as he was taken far enough away. Then she broke down.
John wrapped her arms around her.
"It's alright, we caught him before he could hurt anyone else," John's voice was calm as he kissed the side of her head.
"How could he? How could we let him? This is all my fault," she sobbed.
"It's not, it's that creature," he softly sighed. "We'll find a way to cure him, I know we will."
Helen pulled out of his arms.
"Excuse me John, I want to be alone," she walked away, tears still flowing down her cheeks.
John growled when she was gone. He had more to do before this would be over.