Johnson grimaced at the smile opposite. He was appalled at having to conduct Council affairs through this abominable proxy. Needs must he supposed.

At the end of the day this grinning idiot would be expendable, his perverted actions duly erased from time. But, in the meanwhile, the Editor needed his particular expertise.

'Firstly, the punishment of James Riding had begun, his damnation is imminent. The Council thanks you for your assistance in this matter.'

That reptilian smile. 'My pleasure, although that first poor girl wasn't much fun!'

'Your 'fun' aside, sadly we had no alternative after Riding had abused our trust. Betrayal cannot remain unpunished, and we believed this sanction would be fitting.

'You, my young friend, are merely a tool, and very unfortunately, we required a rather blunt tool for the first two pieces of this plan!'

'My apologies, Mr Johnson, sir, I meant that, you know, she was a little, well. . . '

'Unresponsive? Unaware? Bloody comatose?'

The stupid grin was beginning to anger Johnson. He'd recruited this chap on the firm recommendation of an old friend, a friend he owed a favour or three to. He was starting to regret their arrangement. No, that wasn't correct, he regretted their arrangement the moment he had met this wretched man.

'And the second task?'

'Oh, that was much better, really good!'

Disgustingly, the man actually licked his lips, closed his eyes as though recalling a fine meal.

'I was referring to the outcome, not your dubious idea of pleasure!
This second girl, the streetwalker in Liverpool?'

Lips parted slightly, but the tongue was halted this time. He couldn't risk making Johnson an enemy.

'Yes, sir, as you requested, erm, instructed, same M. O. almost identical to the first.'

'I won't ask what 'almost' entails. As long as we have two murders, decades apart, with an identical modus operandi, that is the Council's wish. The resulting mental anguish that inflicts Riding is the primary concern.

'However, I have spoken to a good friend in the police, seen the pathologist's report. The fact that they concluded that the second girl suffered more than just a fatal wound to her throat, a lot more, is worrying. In fact, the details of the report are quite disturbing, and quite unnecessary to the Council's plans.

'We had a deal, you have completed your end of the bargain, no matter how distastefully, here is your reward.'

Johnson held out the gold pocket watch, explained its usage and restrictions. Gave the standard warning – but since he was aware of the punishment being constructed for Riding, he didn't think this man was fool enough to transgress.

'I wish you well in your research; ancient Greece, I believe?'

'Roman Britain, actually, sir, I intend to. . . '

'I'm sure it will be a wonderful account, as I said. All we ask is a signed first edition for our collection. Please show the gentleman out.'

Three years later, Johnson grimaced at the obscene smile across from his chair.

The signed first edition of Bloodbath had been duly offered, stored with the other countless unread books in his collection.

Much to his chagrin, the fool had ignored his obvious dismissal, stayed seated in the Chesterfield armchair, grinning like a demented idiot.

'The book is not why I've come here; just honouring our deal, Mr Johnson.'

The Editor noticed the man had dropped the use of 'sir', appeared more confident, cocky even. Obviously his travels had agreed with him.

'Go on. . . '

'I'm told by our mutual friend that things aren't going particularly as planned. With James Riding?'

Johnson cursed his old friend under his breath.

'The Council has matters in hand, but thank you for your concern.'

'So, you don't worry that he's got another watch – my watch, as a matter of fact?'

No sign of concern on the reptilian face. In fact, looked like he was enjoying the moment, even though losing the artefact could cost him his life.

Johnson had faced serious criticism when the Council had heard he'd disabled one of the few remaining devices. Riding was proving to be a major thorn in his side, and he didn't need this horrid chap to remind him.

'Not worried he's managed to go back, recreate the Ripper? You know, the nasty serial killer you erased from history just to get back at Riding?'

'Be very careful with your words, young man. Make sure your next are not your last!'

His steely gaze met only mild amusement.

'Look, I know he's messing around with history. I know he's doomed. I've read his bio: nasty tumble off his bike at seventeen, lost an awful lot of blood. Popped back to the Royal, lovely old hospital, much nicer than the new building, anyway, Riding's yummy bodily fluids all over the place!

'I have the razor, will gladly make sure the police get their hands on it. Ensure they find his and the prostitute's DNA all over it, and trust me, I still have an awful lot of hers to hand!'

He winked disgustingly at Johnson.

'Anyway, he'll get what's coming, here and now. But what if I could offer you something that would ensure he suffers wherever and whenever he is?'

'I'm still listening.'

'Give me another watch, let me track him. I have the notebook; I know where and when to find him. He took my bloody watch, nearly cracked my skull open. Now, I like pain as much as the next guy, but that really hurt!'

He pulled back his greasy fringe, showing Johnson a jagged scar.

'The ladies love the scar, though!'

Johnson felt sick at the thought.

'So I want to get him and if, as planned, he spends his life in a prison cell for a murder he didn't commit, or goes crazy coz his druggy mummy got sliced, I don't care either way.'

Johnson cringed at the shockingly crude way this devil was putting the Council's plan.

'I'll follow him back, make sure the plod of the time catches him, get him arrested, maybe they'll give him the death penalty. See where I'm going? Whatever reality he's in, poor Jimbo is toast!'

Johnson glanced towards the far end of the library, the recent reappearance of I See You, Jack! was an unexpected twist. Perhaps he'd underestimated Riding?

His hand was being forced and maybe this disgusting fool was a way to settle matters?

Reluctantly he'd provided Connor with a second pocket watch.

But things had been taken much too far.

The foul beast had followed Riding back, witnessed the Rituals. Had become enthralled by the details in the notebook. Decided to take things into his own vile hands.

The murder of Mary Jane Kelly, long mooted to be that of a copycat killer, provided an opportunity for sadism beyond imagination. Details of the crime scene had shocked the nation and were still shocking a century and a half later.

But Connor had delivered.

A local newspaper hack had been fed information that only the killer would know, told to alert Scotland Yard that The Ripper was heading towards Liverpool, intent on killing again.

The reporter initially scoffed at the list of names, the locations, and especially the dates of future victims, but agreed to pass on their information when the bribe was offered.

The Liverpool City Police prepared to arrest the Ripper.

Back here, in the now, a cutthroat razor had been found from down a drain in Duke Street, forensics matched the blade to the cut on Joanne Greene's throat. Her blood was confirmed to be on the murder weapon, as was the DNA of one James Riding.

However distasteful, Connor had ensured that Riding's fate, here or there, was sealed.

Johnson looked forward more than ever to the Re-write of history, swearing to himself that this hideous excuse for a human being would never get within a mile of the Council, never get a watch, never write a best seller, no matter who the Editor owed favours to.

FWR

24.06.24 Front Page

Back Issue Page