“We've been friends most of our lives, Alex. You need to let me help you. I've been thinking about it, and I want you to hear me out.” Seth glances around to make sure they are not overheard. “You are going to find your sister, and I am going to track this Dr. Rudolph, Hast whoever he is. Once I have a lead, I will contact you, and together we will deal with him.” Seth stares hard at his friend and waits.
“Fair enough, but understand that I will destroy this monster,” Alex emphasizes.
“Of course. Now, where is her letter?” Seth takes the letter and reads slowly, memorizing the details.
“What does a banker know about tracking people?” Alex asks munching on a biscuit.
Seth doesn't answer right away. “Alex, my family, is in the banking industry, but I have a unique skill set. While you were training for your law degree, I was working with Scotland Yard.” Seth slides his badge out of an inside pocket and shows his friend, who is now staring at him like he has grown a second head.
“How the hell did I not know this?” Hurt and anger ripple through his soul when he realizes that his best friend kept a huge secret from him.
Seth shrugs, “It’s a requirement of the division I am in. Most people just assume they know me, but I want more than that lifestyle. Don’t get me wrong, I love the pleasures that my family money affords, but it isn’t enough.”
“I am not most people,” Alex exclaims and slams his cup on the table.
“I wasn’t permitted to talk about it to anyone, Alex. All those holidays you thought I was out partying, I was away at training,” Seth admits with a grin.
“What exactly do you do?” His head is spinning as he tries to figure out how to process this new information.
“I was hired by the Met, Metropolitan Police Service and transferred to the London underground after, six months.”
“You're a Bobbie?” He coughs and sputters.
“Not quite, I work for a special division. We look into criminal offenses that appear unsolvable. I have been working on the creation of our own criminal investigation department.” Seth sits taller and pulls out a leather case from beneath the table. He removes a folder and slides it towards Alex. “You will need to read this.”
“What is this?”
“It is a case file I opened on Dr. Rudolph Jung, aka Albert Hass.”
“How long have you had this?” Alex demands, feeling sick to his stomach.
“Don’t you pull that crap with me, I am trying to help you! I needed time to organize my information, Alex,” Seth retorts. Alex drops his head in shame.
“I’m sorry, Seth. You’ve always been a brother to me,” he leans forward and growls, “but I’m not the same, thinking of what they went through. Summer must be devastated! I dream of getting my hands on him!”
“I know you do, Alex, I only want to help.” He squeezes Alex’s shoulder. “What I found out paints an ugly, sadistic picture. If you don’t think you can…” Seth starts to say, but Alex interrupts him.
“No, tell me everything,” he insists.
“He was born in 1834, in Germany. A son of a prominent doctor.” Alex reads, and his rage boils. “As a child, he liked to experiment on animals. That is something he never outgrew. They pulled his right to practice medicine after he killed a young boy. He infected the child with the puss from an infected cow hoof. Three days later the child died of dysentery. That is an excruciating death for anyone, let alone a child.”
Seth watches Alex absorb the new information with a sick heart and continues. “Here is what we know. We have a highly trained doctor who specializes in pathology. The study of human blood. Respected by his peers until he began purposely mixing viruses with diseases and then testing it on live patients. His own father turned him in. He then changed his name and began running.”
“He has to be stopped, Seth,” Alex utters.
“Agreed. Jung has a pattern of running and an ego to boot.” Sitting back with a cup of hot tea he smiles, “The fool always starts over as a doctor. Tracking him will not be hard.”
“Right, we just have to get to him before he gets his hands on Summer.”
Chapter 33
Steamships do not run up and down the waterways at night unless they are smuggling goods. The ship docks after sunset and the partying begins. Music, gambling, drinking and more.
“Sleep, Summer,” Victor prompts. “We are in for a long night.” Summer agrees and lays down fully dressed.
Victor cleans the pistol and reloads it. He watches over them and nods off a few hours before sunrise only to jerk awake when the ship's boilers are stoked back to temperature. The ship begins to creak and pop as the steam pipes heat up and expand. A sudden sharp knock at the cabin door has Summer sitting up in fear.
“Stay back,” Victor tells her, and he calls through the door. “Who is it?”
“Earl, Mr. Yates.” Shock flickers and after a minute Victor slides the lock back and cracks the door, pointing his pistol straight at Earl’s pale, battered face.
“Easy now, I only came to warn you,” he pleads. Earl raises both hands in a sign of surrender hoping to defuse the situation.
“Warn us about what?” Victor hisses.
“You need to get your family off this ship. It ain’t safe! What happened before was an accident, I only wanted to buy your lady a drink. I didn’t mean no harm,” he babbles.
Victor shoves Earl to the other side of the hallway, slamming him hard into the wall with a pistol pointed up under his chin. “Speak clearly, fool. Why isn’t it safe?” Victor demands.
