Murdoch nodded pensively as Crabtree tried to lift himself from his position on the floor but with no leverage to push himself upright, he seemed to be fighting a losing battle. With every attempt, he simply flopped back down again.
"George, I have an idea," Murdoch began, "but it might hurt," he added apologetically.
"It can't hurt much more than what I'm doing, sir," Crabtree replied with a bleak laugh. "What do you suggest?"
"Try bringing your knees close up to your chest and rolling up, keeping your head on the floor. That way, you keep your centre of gravity in a confined area and you allow your abdominal muscles to do the bulk of the work."
"My abdomen isn't noted for its strength, Detective." Despite their predicament, Crabtree managed a lighthearted comment.
"Trust me, George. It might take a few attempts but it will work."
"I'll give it a try, sir."
Murdoch frowned as the first two attempts failed and with them, Crabtree grew obviously weaker.
"George, do you want to rest?"
"No, sir," he replied with a determined tone. "This is the one."
It appeared as if, once again, he might roll back to the floor, but a last minute burst of strength, held him in position before dragging himself upright with a grunt of effort.
"Sir!" He gasped as, on his knees, he shuffled himself into position alongside the detective.
The rope had been pulled tight, certainly, but it was thick enough for Detective Murdoch to take a firm hold and almost immediately, one end was starting to slide past the other as the knot loosened. Working as fast as he could, Murdoch couldn't help but notice the regular flinching as either his own hand or the rope tugged at Crabtree's left wrist. But in less than two minutes, the rope was falling to the floor.
"George, your wrist, how is it?"
"I'm sure it'll be fine, sir" he replied as he untied his ankles, dismissive of the now swollen and severely bruised hand. "I'll get you the kit."
"Thank you, George," Murdoch replied, both grateful and impressed at the constable's determination. "We will get out of this."
Pulling both shackles towards each other, Murdoch was rewarded with a stroke of luck - the two lengths of chain were just long enough for him to reach the opposite lock. Selecting a pick and a tension rod from the kit, Murdoch placed the rod in Crabtree's right hand.
"I need you to place this inside the lock, George."
"What do I do with it, sir? I've never done this before," the constable admitted.
"Do you feel the tumblers?" Murdoch prompted.
"I think so, sir."
"Very good, press down on the second, while I manipulate the first."
"Sir, how do I know if..."
A distinct click was heard and Murdoch smiled appreciatively at the constable who grinned back. Finally something was working well for them.
"Just two more to go on this one, George."
oOo
From a discreet location further down the street, Inspector Brackenreid stared intently at the Gillies' house.
"He's in there," he growled.
"Crabtree?" Giles queried.
"Yes, Crabtree, obviously, but Murdoch's in there too."
"How could you possibly know that?" Giles asked scornfully.
"Because if he wasn't, Gillies would have let Crabtree wander around to his heart's content and he'd have found nothing. The very fact Crabtree's still in there tells me Gillies has something to hide and that something is Detective Murdoch!"
Chief Constable Giles gave a deep frown and nodded.
"I have to accept your logic, Inspector. But now we need to get in there and find them before either of the Gillies men take any action against them. Do you have any suggestions?"
Brackenreid nodded decisively. "While Crabtree is in there, James Gillies will be in hiding. We go in, arrest Rupert Gillies and tear the place apart. There are enough of us, we can do it."
"We don't have a warrant, Inspector," Giles remarked growing tired of Brackenreid's bull-headed approach.
"Bollocks to a warrant!" He snapped back, receiving a harsh glare in return making him rephrase. "Sir, I mean we have enough suspicion to arrest Gillies and proceed with the investigation of the house."
"And if we find nothing?"
"With respect, sir, we've had this conversation already and we went around in circles with it! I'm telling you, sir, Murdoch is locked up somewhere in that house! For all we know, Crabtree is too! And I'm not going to sit back and watch while some lunatic kills two of my best men!"
"My concern is with safety also, Inspector but that includes yours and the safety of your men here. But, I agree," his voice calmed suddenly. "I accept your reading of the situation." Giles nodded. "What are your instructions?"
"Sir?" Brackenreid queried.
"These are your men, Inspector. As I told you before, I too am following your lead for this case."
"Right!" Brackenreid drew himself up to his full height and nodded. "Sir, you, Jenkins and Price head for the rear of the property. Higgins, Jackson, we'll find a way in at the front. Anyone so much as moves, arrest them! Don't let anyone touch any gadgets, trip wires or devices of any sort. Anyone points a weapon, shoot them. These two men are more intelligent than almost anyone you will ever have met, but don't be intimidated by them. Remember that they have our men in there and," Brackenreid paused, "we are fully prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure they remain safe. Any questions?"
A short silent pause was all it took.
"Right, does everyone know where they need to be and what to do?"
A series of nods and murmurs of agreement followed.
"I said, do you know what you're doing?"
"Yes, Inspector," Higgins was the first to reply, but other similar responses followed almost immediately after.
"Good, lets get Murdoch and Crabtree out of there unharmed and James Gillies and his father under lock and key."
oOo
Less than a hundred yards from the corner where she and Dr Grace had left their carriage, Doctor Ogden came to an abrupt halt and she found herself frozen to the spot, her heart racing and the heat of a rush of adrenaline flushing her cheeks.
"Doctor Ogden?" Dr Grace queried the sudden stop, repeating herself as she received no reply. "Doctor Ogden, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Doctor Ogden shook her head, apparently distressed by something but unwilling to say what.
"Doctor... Julia, this is clearly not nothing. What is it?"
"I..." Dr Ogden's expression gave away her difficulty concentrating. "He's in there."
"Who?" Dr Grace asked. "Detective Murdoch? George?"
Dr Ogden took a few deep breaths to settle her unexpected anxiety. Finally nodding, she turned toward Dr Grace to explain.
"Forgive me, but even after numerous treatment sessions, the sight of James Gillies still affects me in the most shocking and unexpected ways."
"He's there? You saw him?" Dr Grace asked, turning to face the house. "Where? Did he see us?"
"In the upstairs window, second from the right. And no, I don't think he saw us, he seemed to be watching something. Inspector Brackenreid! Gillies knows they're coming!"
"We have to warn them," Dr Grace turned to look further down the street to try to see the group of policemen, but they were already gone.
"Indeed," Dr Ogden agreed.
Without need for further words, both women once again hitched up their skirts and began to run to the site that they had seen the police carriages stop.
oOo
Inspector Brackenreid pounded on the door only to pause, disconcerted, as it swung quickly open under the force of his insistent fist. About to step through the threshold, Brackenreid was held back by a hand on his arm.
"Inspector," Higgins began, his tone one of caution. "Sir, this doesn't look good."
"The door's open, Higgins, we don't have to break it down. What more do you want? An invitation to tea?" Brackenreid snapped.
"No, sir, I want less," he continued. "This doesn't feel right. It's like we're expected."
"Of course we're expected, Higgins. This bastard is on his home turf. He's expecting us all right, but we go in, find him and take him down by whatever means necessary. What else would we do, man?"
"Sir, I agree but..."
Brackenreid strode forward into the entrance hall, unheeding of Higgins' warning. As he did, he heard a faint click somewhere off to his right and only Higgins' quick reactions prevented the blade from piercing his heart.
"Sir!" Higgins cried as he rushed forward, unceremoniously shoving the inspector to one side.
Crashing into the wall, Brackenreid lost his footing and fell quickly and inelegantly to the floor. Immediately turning to look up, the inspector aimed a harsh, angry glare at the young constable, but his eyes softened and his jaw dropped open as he gaped at the sight of Constable Jackson slowly lowering Higgins to his knees, a dagger protruding from somewhere midway between his collarbone and his upper arm.
"Higgins!" The inspector cried, uncharacteristically lost for words for a moment. "Are you all right? How...?"
It had all happened in a matter of moments, leaving Brackenreid both confused and grateful to Higgins for his quick reactions. But everything was overshadowed by the expression on the young constable's rapidly paling face as he gasped for breath against the pain.
"Look, sir, there was a trip wire," Jackson explained, pointing to the wire, but barely taking his eyes from Constable Higgins as if he was terrified to look away should the worst happen. "Sir, what do I do?"
"Whatever you do, don't pull the knife out."
"But sir?" Jackson finally tore his eyes away from Higgins in surprise at the comment.
"If an artery's been nicked, that knife is the only thing keeping the whole lot from tearing." Brackenreid took a deep breath. "Go, find a doctor, I'll stay with him."
"But, Detective Murdoch, sir?" Jackson protested as the situation began to slip out of their control.
"Jackson," Brackenreid spoke with a clipped tone that was a combination of concern and frustration. "Find a doctor. But first, run to the back," he suddenly appeared almost as pale as Higgins. "Warn the Chief Constable that the door is almost certainly booby trapped."
A chilling and jarring scream was heard from the back of the building. With the main door still ajar, the three policemen seemed to hear it from two different places at once and it filled them with dread.
"Jackson!" Brackenreid snapped, cradling the now barely conscious Higgins. "Go!"
To Brackenreid's thinking, Gillies had indeed proved in those few brief moments that he had expected the arrival of the Toronto Constabulary and more than that, he had laid traps for them. As an engineer, he was, of course, more than capable, but somehow it had not occurred to any of them just what could be awaiting them.
"Inspector!"
Brackenreid looked up sharply at the familiar voice. So grateful was he to hear it, he almost laughed with sheer joy.
"Doctor Ogden! And Doctor Grace," Brackenreid sighed with relief. "Someone is injured at the back of the building too. I heard a scream, Jackson's gone to find out. But it's too dangerous for you, there are traps everywhere."
Doctor Grace was already kneeling, tending to Higgins as Brackenreid now rose.
"Inspector," Doctor Ogden replied almost not hearing his words. "Have you found Detective Murdoch? Or Constable Crabtree?"
"No, not yet, but we're certain they're here. In fact, we haven't seen anyone."
"Inspector," Doctor Grace interrupted. "I need you to press down here, so I can remove the knife."
"Of course," he replied, somewhat distracted as he got to his knees once more. "Show me where."
Doctor Grace indicated with hands already red with Higgins' blood and set to work as Brackenreid pressed firmly down, his fingers roughly two inches from the wound.
"The place looks empty," he continued. "No Gillies, no staff. Probably why the traps were set."
"No, Inspector, James Gillies is here," Doctor Ogden replied stiffly.
"James Gillies? Here? How can you be so sure?" He demanded, rising suddenly.
"Inspector!" Doctor Grace cried. "Please, I need you to press down; he's losing blood."
Brackenreid dropped to his knees again and resumed his attendance on Constable Higgins, but he was obviously torn. Having been told that Gillies was in the building,he knew that Murdoch and possibly even Crabtree were in mortal danger.
"Doctor Ogden, take over from me here and tell me where you saw him." He asked quickly.
"I saw him in the..."
She paused as for a fleeting moment she caught sight of a movement in the far periphery of her vision and was distracted immediately. James Gillies had rounded the stairs at the far end of the corridor and had fled from view.
"No! William!"
Bending down, Dr Ogden scooped up Higgins' fallen gun and gathering her skirt in her left hand, set off quickly after him.
"Doctor!" Brackenreid shouted, torn between stopping her and moving again from Higgins' side. "Doctor Grace?"
"I'm sorry, Inspector, I'm not finished," she replied. "If you let go, I don't think he'll survive."
"Jackson!" He yelled, desperate to get assistance to enable him to follow Gillies. "Jackson! Get back here!"
oOo
Murdoch looked up sharply as the cellar door opened, revealing James Gillies at the top of the stairs.
"Well, well," Gillies slowly descended the stairs and found himself laughing, despite the tenseness of the situation. "Aren't you the resourceful pair?"
Murdoch glanced toward Crabtree. Even with Gillies' right arm in a sling, Constable Crabtree was too weak and pale from his injuries to be in any position to overpower him while armed. Neither had they managed to release both manacles from around Murdoch's wrists. Still attached to the wall by one iron clasp, Murdoch was in almost as bad a position as earlier.
"You've been found out, Gillies, the police are here," Murdoch tried to reason with him having clearly heard Inspector Brackenreid shouting upstairs. "You have nothing left but to give yourself up."
"Oh, but that's not true, detective, as I'm certain you realise." Slowly, almost with disregard for what was happening upstairs, Gillies checked the bullet chamber of his revolver before descending the stairs. "You see, the entrance to this cellar is hidden, I doubt anyone will find it and certainly not in time to save you. You see, Detective, what you either forget or are trying hard not to mention is that if I am caught I will hang. I am an escaped convicted murderer, what's one more? Or," he laughed, "actually, several more."
"What do you mean?" Murdoch questioned hesitantly.
"I knew they would work it out eventually. Either that, or they'd simply run out of possibilities and come hopeful for answers."
"And?" Murdoch pressed.
"I set traps," Gillies grinned. "Or rather, my father did. I am unfortunately somewhat incapacitated in that regard. Someone will have received a knife to the heart, another electrocuted. There are more traps, but I won't bore you with the details. Needless to say, your rescue will be somewhat halted by ever diminishing numbers of those who have come to find you."
Murdoch pulled on the remaining chain, infuriated by Gillies' smugness and lack of remorse.
"But now, to you, Detective, or rather first, your lapdog. I owe him a bullet and I trust that this time he's not wearing your bulletproof vest. So ingenious. I knew then that I had met someone very close to my match. It has taken some time, but I believe I am about to take my revenge."
Drawing the gun from his pocket, Gillies aimed it at Crabtree, who could only stare in shock and disbelief in return.
"Gillies! No!" Murdoch cried moments before he pulled the trigger. "George!"
Crabtree spun from the force of the bullet, landing face down and unmoving, a small pool of blood expanding slowly across the floor beneath him. Straining on the chain, Murdoch tried to move to his side only to find him beyond his reach.
"George!" He cried again with no response.
As he looked up, he could see Gillies advancing towards him with a slow, purposeful step.
"You know, Detective, I really wanted your death to be a flamboyant affair. One that I could truly enjoy. Some sort of dramatic yet excruciating death. It's the least you deserve for the inconvenience you've caused me, although admittedly, you were always very entertaining. But, I can see that even your colleagues might, amongst them, summon up the intelligence to work out where I am..."
Gillies frowned as Murdoch glanced yet again at Crabtree, lying unmoving only yards away from him.
"Detective, this is your death we are discussing, the very least you could do is pay attention! Are you not interested in how you're going to die?"
"Gillies," Murdoch sighed. "You're not worthy of any attention. You're a common murderer with delusions of grandeur, nothing more. Constable Crabtree has my attention because he is more important than you in every conceivable way."
Rushing forward in a blind fury, Gillies slid to his knees at Murdoch's side and pushed the barrel of the gun painfully under the detective's jaw, forcing his head back against the wall.
"Perhaps now I have your full attention?" Gillies growled, livid at the insult to his pride and ego.