He was drawn back from his thoughts by a sound: footsteps. He crouched down and hid in the shadows and watched as a police officer appeared. The officer didn’t notice Jack and continued on his beat. Jack stayed hidden and followed his audible steps until they faded from earshot.
Jack started to stand when he heard another noise behind him. He recognized a different set of footsteps – lighter than those of the officer – that came closer until they were right next to him. In the moonlight, Jack saw a woman; he took the risk and rose, walking out of the shadows as if he had been taking a late night stroll.
The woman was startled but it didn’t take her long to relax. “’Ello ‘andsome man.”
“Good evening, madam,” Jack answered.
“What brings you out ‘ere on this late hour?”
“Just clearing my head.”
“A lover’s quarrel, then,” she said with a harsh, knowing cackle. “Well my ‘andsome man, are you looking for a woman to take your’n mind off tha’ lassie at ‘ome?”
She’s a prostitute, Jack said to himself. If he had actually been from that time, meeting a prostitute on the street wouldn’t have daunted him. But as he was from a different time and a more conservative area of the country, he was not used to being approached in such a way. He was taken aback.
“What’s a’matta’? Are you afraid of wha’ I ‘ave under my skirts?” she teased, raising her dress to show her naked body underneath.
Jack had been nervous only a moment before but her teasing changed that. He now felt his anger beginning to rise deep within him.
“Do you like wha’ you see?” she continued. “I’ll ‘elp you forget your lady for a small coin. ‘Ere,” she said lying on the ground with her dress raised higher, “I’ll make i’ easy on you.” She looked at Jack with a smile that was more taunting than sexual.
Jack didn’t move. He tried to push the anger down but he felt himself losing control. He looked at the woman who teased him with her nakedness.
“Come to Polly,” she continued. “What’s a’matta’? Don’t you like me? Oh, I know wha’ i’ is. You can’t get i’ up can ye? Let Polly help. She can make any man into a proper man.” She rose onto her knees in front of him.
Jack no longer heard her words. All that he could hear was his heartbeat: it sounded like thunder.
Jack reached into his pocket and his hand was surprised to touch something sharp. He realized there was a knife in his pocket, although he didn’t remember placing it there.
He wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle. The blade felt natural in his hand – almost like it was a part of him. He tightened his grip and grinned.
Jack looked down at Polly and she misinterpreted his smile. She thought she was going to be able to turn a quick trick and make enough to at least buy food for breakfast. She reached up and rubbed the front of his pants. When she felt him react, she undid the buttons that held the front of his pants closed.
Jack removed the blade from his pocket, making sure Polly did not see the knife. He reached down and touched her face and joined her on his knees. She took the cue and leaned back on her elbows before lying fully on her back and prepared to turn the trick.
Jack leaned forward and placed his body on top of hers. He could feel her discomfort at his weight and it only added to the feel of the moment. Jack looked into her eyes and saw her for who she was – a woman trying to make it in a tough world. He would ease that suffering.
He placed his hand over her mouth. Then with his other hand, he brought up the knife. She saw the knife and tried to scream but Jack’s hand was too tight over her mouth.
Jack touched the knife to the left side of her neck. He paused slightly, enjoying the fear that emanated from her soul; then, he pushed the blade into her neck and slid the blade across, slitting her throat from ear to ear. He watched her eyes as the life left them.
After she was dead, he mutilated her stomach, spilling her insides onto the ground. He was full of rage and didn’t stop there, enjoying the act of mutilating Polly’s corpse. When he finally had his fill, he was swathed in blood. He rose from her body and stepped backwards, admiring his achievement.
The moment was interrupted by footsteps. He didn’t hesitate. He thought of his next location and disappeared from the East End.
CHAPTER FORTY
Washington, D.C. – November 1921
Wilson couldn’t sleep. It had been a long series of days. He still wasn’t sure how everything was going to turn out but he was sure of one thing – he was tired of thinking about it.
He wasn’t worried about Vincent. Vincent was a good man. Vincent’s sadness and grief had only exposed his hard resolve even more and Wilson knew he was someone he needed on his side.
What made him nervous was Jack. It was true Jack had changed. But for how long? Jack had changed history when he killed Libby; so what if one of them did something to change history back? What if their devices became active again and Jack’s device began to affect his subconscious? Would they be aware it was happening? Jack had already tried to kill him once. He had no
