'Awake, already, are you?' a familiar voice came out of the darkness.
The limbs appeared again, and my eyes saw something red above me. It was John Racket's rusty beard.
'Racket,' I croaked, licking lips, which were parched. 'Racket, cut me down.'
'When I went to all this trouble to truss you up? Not half. Try calling on your precious Mr. Barker to come cut you down.'
'Why?' I gasped.
'I'm glad you asked that,' Racket said. 'I've been studying the Good Book a lot lately, searching for some really spectacular way to kill you. That bullet I put through my cab was just to put Barker off for a while. I thought of hanging you from your hair like Absalom, but yours was too short, or of gutting you like Abraham almost did to Isaac, but I didn't think anyone would get the idea. I about gave up when I remembered Peter being crucified upside down. Now that, my friend, is the dramatic moment. Truly artistic, and not above my poor powers. I'm just going to leave you hanging here until Barker finds you, though at this rate that might just be sometime in the next century. Of course, by then, all the blood will have run to your brain and burst your vessels. Poor Barker will have to find a new assistant all over again.'
'Why are you doing this?' I spat out, before my chest convulsed in a paroxysm of pain. My ears were ringing with the thunder of my own labored heartbeat.
'I'm just throwing our little bloodhound off his scent,' Racket continued. 'You see, the Jew was stealing my girl, after we'd been married for five years. I didn't mind that she was a Jewess, since she had converted to Christianity, but for her to take up with another of her kind, after all I'd done for her, after I'd made her respectable, that was too much. I knew Barker would be hired to take the case, him being all friendly with the Jews and all. So, I began early. I preached against the Jews in Hyde Park days before I killed him, just to throw your boss off the track. I got Miriam's sweetheart in an alleyway not far from their church in Poplar. It was incredible, a real feeling of power. I smacked him about for a couple of minutes, then I got him with the knife. One blow, right to the heart, and he was a goner. I bundled him into the cab and brought him here. Saw the resemblance to Christ, though I'm a trade unionist and an unbeliever. In a trice, I'd stripped him down and nailed him to a stall plank. I thought, Why not hang him high in Petticoat Lane for all the Jews to see? That'd keep 'em all away from my Miriam. Then I had a stroke of genius. I took a piece of chalk and wrote 'The Anti-Semite League' on it, along with a verse I culled from Miriam's Bible. Told her I was thinking of going to church. I tossed him in the cab, board and all, covered in an old blanket, and found plenty of rope. Nobody saw a thing in the heavy fog, or if they did, they were too terrified to squeal. The Lane was quiet as the tomb. Juno didn't care for it when I used her to haul the Jew up the telegraph pole, but she's a good ol' gal. From sticking him to hanging him didn't take more than an hour or two.
'I tell you, it was a real pleasure watching your Guv'nor chase all over town looking for a group of Jew- haters that didn't exist. When I wasn't looking over your shoulders, I was in the pubs, agitating against the Jews, blaming them for stealing jobs and running up prices. It's amazing what one bloke can do.'
I moaned as my body was wracked by another spasm. I could no longer feel my legs. They were ice cold, while my chest was on fire. I couldn't take much more before I passed out, and death would inevitably follow. While Racket went on, boasting of his evil accomplishments, I prayed and prepared myself to meet my Maker.
'Miriam was a good wife for a while, before she cuckolded me. I had to tell her what I done, and how I knew about both of them. If she'd been smart, she'd have kept her gob shut and chalked it up to a hard lesson. But she started yammering, and it was obvious she was gonna peach on me. I took her down, right here, with a rubber-headed mallet. Bashed her head in one stroke. I tossed her out the back loading door, down onto the tracks below, then dragged her down the tunnel and chalked another note. Your boss was too stupid to get it without a little hint. Did you like the shooting? Nobody'd suspect a cabbie of putting holes in his own cab. I wrapped the pistol in a scarf to keep the powder burns off the side, but Barker didn't even check.
'Later, I piled some fellows from the Crook and Harp pub into a cart and drove 'em all down to your place. Shoulda bloody well known they'd get their heads bashed. But young McElroy got left behind, and you know what he did? He turned Judas on me. He told you everything he knew, didn't he? Of course, you remember what happened to Judas, don't you?'
Racket took an arm of my cross and turned me around slowly. There was a pair of slack limbs dangling behind me. I didn't have to look up into the bloated face to know that the body was once Albert McElroy.
'Stupid sod. If he'd had half a brain, he would've looked to see who his cabman was, but then you weren't much smarter with your educated ways, were you? I even brought you here to the stable, overlooking the tracks.
'So, here we are again. I'm going to set you up proper here, like old Peter, and see how Barker likes losing his new assistant. But you don't look much like Peter, I must say. Here.' He raised a hand to his ear and pulled the false whiskers from his face. Underneath them was the man we'd been looking for, with the birthmark on his chin. He stepped forward and set them over my own ears.
'Very nice,' he decided. 'Artistic-like. You didn't know you was sending Albert to his doom last night, did you, boy? Barker should get a kick out of this. I'm afraid he turned out to be a disappointment, not much better than the peelers. I was just making things up as I went along. Old Push never suspected a thing.'
I was starting to lose consciousness. My whole body had gone cold, and breathing had become almost impossible. I was beginning to hallucinate. I thought I heard my employer's voice.
'I wouldn't say that, Mr. Racket. I've had my eye on you for some time.'
The cross spun in a circle, and when it stopped, a pistol was clapped to my head. It was my own revolver. I recognized the filed-down sight. I closed my eyes and felt surprisingly at ease. I was ready to die now. I gave it all over. At that point, I would have preferred a bullet to slow death. There was a short scream in my ear, and I opened my eyes in time for them to be sprayed with blood. One of Barker's copper pennies was imbedded in the back of Racket's hand. Racket dropped the gun and slammed into me, sending my makeshift cross spinning in wide circles. New paroxysms of pain began, as the centrifugal force pulled my entire body away from the post.
Abruptly, I was dragged aloft, into the darkness above. There were stairs, and I saw the second level and the hayloft. A gun went off almost in my ear, and my cross began plummeting, plummeting to earth. I came to an abrupt stop, and strong arms grasped my chest. I felt flesh rip and sinews snap.
'I've got you, lad,' Cyrus Barker said. Then I heard no more.
I opened my eyes dully. Terence Poole was lifting me up and putting a flask of brandy between my lips. I was off the cross. Who knew how long I'd been out? I began to sputter, and with the kind assistance of the inspector, who thumped me soundly between the shoulder blades several times, progressed to a full-blown cough.
'Thank you, Inspector,' I finally managed to squeak out.
'Don't mention it, young fellow. Looks as though you had a close call here.'
'Where's Mr. Barker?' I asked, for I couldn't see him for the swarm of blues. There must have been a dozen constables combing the stable.
'He's out front, helping with Racket's body.'
'What happened?'
Poole's bucolic face broke into a grin. 'I'm still figuring that out, myself. Barker spat it at me so fast, I couldn't make head nor tail of it. Something about Racket jumping out the upper granary door on a rope attached to your cross. He went down, and you went up. He would have escaped, leaving Barker behind to save you, only Barker was too clever for him. He parted the rope with one shot. You and the cross fell into his waiting arms, while Racket fell and dashed his brains out. Very messy way to die. But I can't say I feel sorry for the blighter, considering all the pains he put the Yard to.'
Barker and a further handful of constables brought the body of our former cabman in, wrapped in a blanket. It was probably the one he had used to conceal the body of Louis Pokrzywa. I could see part of the head under the bloodied blanket. As Poole said, it was a very messy way to die.
My employer came over and looked down at me.
