Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls (3 page)

Chapter

3

William (Billy)
Burke was a burly man with sandy brown hair and overgrown bushy sideburns
running down his cheeks all the way to his chin. He was a morose chap, silent
and brooding throughout the day but quick to become foulmouthed and mean
tempered whenever the booze started flowing at night. He saw nothing wrong with
– and in fact took great pleasure in punching, kicking, stealing, lying, and
generally whoring his way through life. In short, he was a rotten, nasty man;
as close to a true friend as William Hare was ever likely to get.

Besides
sharing the same proper name, both men had left their native Ireland to find
work on the Union Canals in Scotland, but neither felt the need to demean
himself with such arduous manual labor – both too damn lazy to work for their
money. It was no surprise then, both men leeched onto weak women who provided a
roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and enough money in their pockets
to meet one another in one of the sleazy, run-down pubs Westport had to offer.
Through a blur of whisky, ale, prostitutes, gambling, and barroom brawls – sometimes
all on the same night – Burke and Hare became best friends and partners in
crime. Rarely was one found without the other. Theirs was a symbiotic union of
excess, greed, and violence that would soon lead to infamy. Not tonight,
though. Tonight they had work to do.

*   *   *

“Move
yer arse, ya muckle big lump,” Hare urged. “We can’t be late.”

Burke
wasn’t sure what to make of his friend tonight. William sure was acting
strange. Either worried about something, or perhaps excited? He couldn’t decide
which, yet. Naturally, they were at a pub, The Gown and Gavel, which was
already full with a wide assortment of local rabble. Despite the early hour,
there were dirty factory workers and haggard merchants on their way home from
work; dolled up whores and fast‐talking con men just heading there; young
toughies in looking for a fight; older women in heavy make-up in looking for
the young toughies; and numerous drunks not bothering anyone, just swaying on
their barstools or already lying face down on the sawdust-covered floor. A
wonderful
crowd, as far as Billy was concerned. The makings of yet another fun-filled
night, and hell, William wasn’t even drinking! God only knew what that meant.
Couldn’t be good, though.

“What’s so
special about tonight?” Burke asked, taking another slurp from his pint of
bitter. “You don’t even know how much this bloody lodger of yours is gonna pay
us yet.”

“It’ll be
enough. No worries. I got a good feeling about this bloke. He’s up to
something. Something he needs a couple fella’s with strong arms and closed lips.
Hear? Tonight’s only a drop in the bucket, Billy, long as we don’t blow it
being late.”

“So move yer
arse,” Burke muttered, slamming his empty glass on the table and heading for
the door.

“Now why
didn’t I think of that?” Hare laughed, turning to follow his friend.

Outside, a
light drizzle fell from a black swirling sky. It was more of a mist than a real
rain, and Burke and Hare barely noticed its presence, thankful it was milder
tonight and the incessant fog had so far been held at bay. Hopefully the
weather would hold at least until they’d finished and were comfortably back in
the pub. After that, the fog and rain could do as it pleased.

The Gown and
Gavel was on Bishop’s Row, one of the better streets of Westport – if in fact,
any
street in this filthy section of the city could be described in that manner.
Still, as run-down and low-class an area as Bishop’s Row was, it may as well
have been Princess Street outside Edinburgh Castle compared to where Burke and
Hare were headed.

The harbor of
Westport, commonly known simply as The Docks, was a terrible place, a
four-block area on the shores of the Firth of Forth, an estuary of the frigid
North Sea. It was the worst of the worst; an enter-at-your-own-risk no man’s
land if ever there had been one. After dark, the only people who considered
visiting were sailors, thieves, murderers, and fools. Even the police,
prostitutes, and rats seemed to steer clear. No one would bother Burke and
Hare, though. Men like them tended to blend right in.

Turning onto
Canal Road, the dimly lit street curved slowly to the right as it descended toward
Ferry Street and the water. It was normally dead quiet by this time, the
streets deserted by people with enough sense to lie low and let the shadows of
the night pass them by. Tonight though, there was some sort of commotion going
on outside the Ripley Theatre, with people milling around on the steps and in
front of the old building. Burke and Hare picked up their pace, anxious to see
if there was trouble afoot. Unfortunately, it was only a group of traveling
actors moving some of their props and stage sets from the back of several
wagons inside of the storied theatre.

The Ripley had
been popular with the privileged and artsy crowds years ago, before the riff-raff
took over, but the affluent members of society didn’t feel comfortable coming
to this seedy area of Edinburgh anymore and the massive brick building that
once entertained royalty had been empty for the better part of five years.
Apparently, that was about to change.

Not that Burke
and Hare gave a rat’s turd about a bunch of silly toffs parading around in silk
tights and ridiculous pancake make-up, spewing words that barely seemed human –
never mind English – at the top of their lungs to a room full of rich snobs. No
thanks, definitely not for
real
men like them. Only wankers would be
caught dead in a theatre. Heads high, snickering openly at the men these thugs
considered girly and far below them on the societal food chain, Burke and Hare
would’ve happily passed by forgetting the actors and their asinine play, but
the sound of a pair of working horses pulling to a stop behind them caused the
two friends to stop and look. Few, if any people living in this area could
afford a cab ride so they were naturally curious as to who might climb out.

Their interest
was piqued further once the driver stepped down to open the door and a heavenly
set of sexy long legs appeared from within. Attached to the legs soon followed
a woman so stunningly beautiful the men’s jaws nearly hit the cobbled street.
She wore a dark green dress hanging low off her shoulders and slit high up her
thigh. Her hair was raven black, shiny as silk, and hung halfway down her
exquisite uncovered back. When she turned their way, Burke and Hare gasped as
her dress was nearly as low cut on the front, brazenly exposing the woman’s
large full breasts, barely contained within a black leather corset. Everything
about this women said money; years of pampered living and classy refinement,
but there was also a subtle, dark, dangerous way she moved that screamed sex; a
street-hardened erotic temptress rather than the product of high society.

“Look at that,
Billy!” Hare said.

“I see her,
William,” Burke answered, his words slurred, dripping with drunken lust. “Do
you think I’m blind? How could I miss a strumpet like that?”

“Not the
woman, dullard…quick, up there on the roof. Look!”

Burke
reluctantly tore his eyes away from the lady in green, following Hare’s shaky
extended finger skyward. At the peak of the theatre’s roof, wings spread fully
out at its sides like a stone gargoyle protecting its chosen sanctuary, was the
massive white bird that had scared them last night, anticipating their every
move, forcing them to cower indoors until the break of dawn.

“Blimey!”
Burke shouted, causing others in the crowd to look up and notice the strange
albino animal. “It’s that great bloody beast again! What’s it doing, William?”

“I don’t—”
Hare began to answer.

“You’ve seen
that bird before?” A strong female voice interrupted him. Burke and Hare nearly
gave themselves whiplash snapping their heads down to see who it was speaking.
It was the woman from the cab. Up close, she was even more impressive. Her jade
eyes perfectly matched the shade of her dress; so large and alluring they
actually managed to capture both men, holding their stare away from the
tempting pleasures exposed below. For a few seconds, at least.

“Seen it?”
Burke replied. “Bloody thing chased us across half the city last night, it did.
Kept swooping down on us, claws ready to have a go at our eyes.”

“Really…?” She
said, taking a step closer. “How fascinating.”

 “We think it
might be an albatross. Evil, cursed birds, I’m told. Tell the lady, William?”

Those strange
jade-colored eyes turned Hare’s way, boring into him with an intensity that
made him uneasy for some reason. The woman was strikingly beautiful, the
sexiest woman he’d ever stood this close to, but there was something about her –
a hunger, perhaps – that made him distrust her.

“Aye. I mean,
no. It’s not an albatross. I forgot to tell you, Billy. I was told it was
an...ahh...hell I can’t—”

“An owl,” the
woman said. “A Snowy Owl, perhaps?”

“That’s right.
That’s exactly what he said it was.”

“What
who
said it was?” she asked, stepping even closer – too close – a quiet desperation
in her tone that set Hare’s alarm bells ringing again. Maybe it was all in his
head, her intoxicating flowery perfume playing tricks with his simple mind.
Regardless, he wasn’t about to expose his employer to anyone, even someone as
stunning as this.

“Oh…I can’t
remember. Just one of the local lads down at the pub. He’d seen a bird like it
in one of those fancy picture books.”

“I see,” she
said, stepping back and dropping her eyes to the ground. “Well…it’s been a
pleasure, gentlemen. Good evening.” She started to walk away, the men’s eyes
unconsciously drawn to her backside and the magnificent sway of her hips, but
she surprised them by turning back. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. My
name’s Magenta. Magenta Da Vine. A stage name, of course, but it has a certain
ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,”
Burke answered, “I take it you’re part of the play, then?”

“Aye. We’re
doing
The Scottish Play
, naturally.” When neither Burke nor Hare showed
any sign of knowing what she was talking about, she explained further. “It’s
called
Macbeth
. Shakespeare’s best, in my opinion.” It was clear neither
man still had any idea what she was talking about, so she dropped the subject.

“What were
your names, again?”

She was
looking at Hare, obviously asking him but Burke decided to jump into the
conversation, anything to get her to pay some attention to him. He couldn’t let
William get all the bragging rights in the pub later.

“I’m William
Burke, at your service ma’am, and this big lump is my mate, William Hare. Our
friends call me Billy, just to keep it simple. You can do the same.”

A seductive
smile flashed across Da Vine’s face. “William Hare and Billy Burke…two fine
strong Irish names. I like that! Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

With those
promising words, she winked and walked off into the front doors of the Ripley.

Both men
watched her until she disappeared into the theatre, neither managing to breathe
until she was gone from view. Facing each other, they had a good laugh.

“It isn’t
everyday you meet a woman like that, my friend,” Burke said, puffing out his
barrel chest. “Think she fancied me?”

“How could she
not, Billy?” Hare smiled.

He slapped his
friend on the back and shoved him in the direction of the bottom of the hill.
They’d wasted enough time here. Miss Da Vine was certainly a delicious
distraction but a fine woman like that would never have anything to do with a
couple of common blokes like them. Foolish to imagine any different; not that
it stopped either one of them from doing a little wishful thinking as they
walked on.

And who could
blame them?

The smile
stayed on Hare’s face until he remembered the bird.
The Snowy Owl
, he
corrected himself. Glancing back up at the roof of the theatre, the owl was now
gone, silently slipped away into the approaching night almost as if it had
never been there at all.

Maybe it’s some
kind of ghost
,
he thought. Nonsense of course, but the notion stuck in his mind.

“Come on,
Billy. Let’s go.”

Chapter

4

With the theatre
behind them, Burke and Hare walked down the rest of Canal Road, turning onto
Ferry Street at the bottom of the hill just as the echo of the bells at St.
Giles’ Cathedral reached them, chiming eight times across the city, indicating
the hour. They were going to be a few minutes late but neither acknowledged the
fact or hurried their pace. They walked in silence, both men increasingly wary
of their surroundings, instinctively on guard even though there was no obvious
sign of danger. In this area of urban decay and degradation, caution wasn’t
recommended; it was demanded. 

The
fog was thicker here, rolling in from the frigid sea, an eerie moving carpet of
darkness that covered the filthy street, blotting out the sight of their feet
as they moved forward. They didn’t need to see where they were heading to find
the docks – all they had to do was follow the putrid stench of rendered whale
blubber, salt water, and rotting fish guts. Within minutes, they were there.

“Where’s
your new pal, then?” Billy asked. “Tells us to be on time, but he’ll get here
whenever he damn well pleases, I suppose.”

“No
idea, but I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Let’s go back toward Canal Road and see
if we can—”

When
William stopped and turned, Ambrosious Black was standing right behind them,
touching distance away, monstrously large in a black overcoat and top hat. He
was leaning on a wooden walking stick, glancing casually at an expensive silver
pocket watch.

“Christ
almighty!” Hare said, shocked such a large man could sneak up on them so
stealthily. “Nearly stopped my heart, ya did! Where did you come from?”

“You’re
late, William,” was all Black said, a smoldering anger in the tone of his voice.
“You wouldn’t have me thinking you were unreliable now, would you?”

“Course
not. We were held up outside the Ridley, sir. Some artsy group is opening the
theatre again. Won’t happen again, gov, on my word.”

Black’s
white eyes bored into Hare for several more seconds then slid away to examine
the other man beside him. “And who’s your equally inept mate?”

“My
name’s Burke, sir. You can call me Billy.”

“Billy
it is,” Black said, “You lads follow me. I’ve wasted enough time here.”

Slipping
his pocket watch out of sight, Black strode off into the swirling fog and Burke
and Hare had to practically run to keep up with the older, yet unpredictably
spry white‐haired man. Black led the two thugs past the busier commercial docks
and down toward the far end of the boardwalk where a fancy private ship named
Garfield’s
Galleon
was moored. It was a splendid sailing vessel – one of the newer
Yankee Clipper cargo ships, its circular wheel of paddles powered by steam
engine rather than the wind.

“This
is it, men,” Black said, pretending not to notice the look on his workers’
faces. They were suitably impressed with the ship, naturally, but it was greed
that shone most brightly in their eyes. Black could almost hear their thoughts,
calculating what a fine ship like this must be worth and wondering how deep
their employer’s pockets might actually be. More importantly, they were
wondering how much coin was in this enterprise for them.

Beside
the dock, in a pyramid stack of 2’ x 2’ wooden crates waited Black’s offloaded
cargo. It was a smaller pile of goods than Burke and Hare had been expecting,
but once they lifted the first container and realized how heavy the crates were,
they began to realize that indeed, they’d be earning their pay this night.

“Blimey,
Gov’nor!” William said. “What have you got in these crates…rocks?”

“Actually,
yes,” the white‐haired stranger said. “Well, stones to be exact. Blocks of corundum
stone from the Emerald Isle. I’m a sculptor, you see, and it’s up to you and
your mate to get these crates back to my room at Tanner’s Close without
damaging them. I’ve rented a pull cart for you. It’s over there beside the
wall.”

“How’d
they get on the dock?” Billy asked, seeing no work crew or block and tackle
assembly anywhere in sight.

“Not
that it’s any of your business, but the rather handsome gent there, standing on
the aft deck of the Clipper offloaded them for me. His name’s Nickolas Garfield,
a colleague of mine from the United States.”

Burke
and Hare peered through the fog and light rain to catch a glimpse of Mr.
Black’s friend but all they could make out was a tall well-built man wearing black
dress slacks and a navy blue knit sweater, his white captain’s hat pulled down
low to conceal his clean shaven features.

“By
himself?” William asked, clearly astonished.

“Let’s
just say Mr. Garfield is a very special man and leave it at that, shall we? If
he can handle the blocks, surely you two strapping young men can get them the
rest of the way with no worries. Right?”

“I
guess so, sir,” Billy said. “We’ll do our best.”

“You’ll
do better than that, Billy Boy. Deliver them intact and I’ll pay you
handsomely. So much as crack or chip one of them...trust me, I won’t be
pleased.”

There
was clearly a threat in Mr. Black’s words, and ordinarily that would have set
Burke and Hare off in a rage, but tonight neither of them was in the mood for a
fight. They wanted to be paid for this job, sure, but there was something
unsettling and uniquely dangerous about their mysterious employer and neither
friend wanted to do anything that might upset him.

“Are
we clear, gentlemen?” Black asked, his tone lighter, friendlier.

“Yes,
sir,” William said. “Perfectly.”