“I apologize for calling you out at this hour,” he said, “but most of you know the situation and understand why we’re here. For those of you as yet unaware, several prisoners escaped this morning, barely two hours ago, from HM Prison Bridewell. We have limited information about those prisoners right now, and we’ll find out more as the warden and his men sort out the mess there, but we must not waste time. Every one of the confirmed escapees is a murderer, and all of them were awaiting execution. They have little to lose at this point, and it is my great fear that they will take up their murderous ways again even before the sun comes up. We must make haste and catch them.”
An older man at the back of the room raised his hand, and Sir Edward nodded at him. “Yes, Mr March?”
“How many prisoners have escaped, sir?”
Sir Edward saw Day’s face light up at the sound of the familiar voice and watched the young inspector look around, trying to catch the eye of his former mentor. Inspector Adrian March had brought Day up from Devon and pushed for his promotion to detective. They had become good friends and frequent dinner companions, but had not worked together in many months.
“There is some question about that,” Sir Edward said, “which I will explain in a moment. For those of you who have not yet met him, Mr March has kindly agreed to come out of retirement to help us today. He is something of an expert on the murderer’s mind and may be able to lend a unique perspective. As might Mr Augustus McKraken, who has also joined us this morning. Both of them are highly decorated former inspectors, and I hope you will listen to whatever they have to say that might help us here.”
The other men murmured their greetings and nodded their heads in the direction of the two retired inspectors. Both had been key investigators in the Jack the Ripper case. They had failed to capture that monster, but they remained well respected among their peers.
“As Mr March points out,” Sir Edward said, “there is some confusion about how many men have escaped.”
“How did they do it, sir?” Inspector Jimmy Tiffany was front and center, taking notes in a small cardboard tablet.
“A train derailed and destroyed the south wall of the prison.”
Tiffany looked up from his notes, his eyes wide, as another wave of chatter ran through the room.
“Yes,” Sir Edward said. “It beggars the imagination.”
“Were any passengers hurt, sir?” This from Sergeant Nevil Hammersmith, who stood at the back of the room, towering over the other men nearby.
“There were no people on the train. Three cars split off and rolled down the hill, demolished the prison’s outer wall, and traveled across the yard and through the walls of several cells. The rest of the train was found a mile away, abandoned but still on the tracks.”
“And the driver?”
“There was no driver. There was no fireman. In fact, there was no record of that train leaving the depot in the first place.”
“It went out on its own for a quick look round, did it?”
Sir Edward scowled at Inspector Michael Blacker, who he felt was generally too quick to make sport of things. Still, he was a good detective, and so Sir Edward tolerated the man’s cheeky attitude. “Of course it could not have left the depot on its own, Mr Blacker. But that is a mystery for another day.” He looked at Inspector Day, then looked back at Blacker. “Our first priority is to get these prisoners off the streets of London before they hurt someone. Very shortly now, men will be leaving their homes and traveling to work. At that point, these murderers may be able to blend in with other people, may be able to cause a great deal of chaos and damage before they are caught. We must get as many of them as we possibly can before daylight. We must contain this situation, and we must do so now.”
Sir Edward realized he was talking through clenched teeth. His jaw hurt, and he paused long enough to take a deep breath. “Sergeant Kett? I don’t see you. Would you raise your hand? Ah, there you are. Thank you.”
Kett nodded, but remained expressionless, the lower half of his face obscured by an unkempt thicket that he usually groomed into the shape of a particularly impressive handlebar mustache. If his own beard were in better condition this morning, Sir Edward might have reprimanded the sergeant for his appearance.
“Everyone see Sergeant Kett? Good,” Sir Edward said. “He has the names of some of the men who have escaped. The ones we know about, at least. We are still gathering information, but the warders at Bridewell seem to be somewhat confused about who is missing and who is not. Some men believed to have escaped may, in fact, still lie under the rubble of the south wall. There may be eight prisoners loose, there may be four prisoners loose. We need an exact number, but you men cannot wait for us to determine that number. Sergeant Kett will continue to gather information, and I want you to communicate with him constantly today. He will keep a list of who has been found by you, and he will do his best to add to that list as the prison tells us more, will you not, Sergeant?”
“I will.”
“Good man. Everybody else we have is covering the train yards and the roads out of London. It is up to us to help contain and capture the prisoners before they can get far. All of you, talk to the sergeant briefly and get out there on the street. Kett will have temporary assignments for you, and he’s got sketches of three of the men for you to look at. Memorize those sketches. I want a circle, beginning a mile out from Bridewell. I want half of you working your way toward the prison. Look under every shrub, overturn every rock, examine every windowpane of every home. Remain in pairs. Do not wander off on your own. We will keep runners moving back and forth so that you will have a steady stream of information. It should go without saying that these are dangerous prisoners and you need to be alert at all times. The rest of you do the same, but work your way from that mile mark outward, away from the prison. Obviously you’ll have more ground to cover, so move quickly. Catch these men. Catch them before they can harm a single person.”
He looked out at the sea of faces, all good men, all of them committed to keeping London safe. “Be very careful,” he said. “I want every one of you back here by end of day unharmed.” He slammed his hand against the desktop. “Now go!”
The crowd dispersed, gathering around Sergeant Kett for their assignments. Sir Edward saw that Kett was passing out lists of everything they knew about the prisoners and wondered how the sergeant had made time to create the lists. He caught Inspector Day’s eye as the detective crossed the room.
“Mr Day, Mr Hammersmith, I’d like to see you both in my office, please.”
Sir Edward gathered his notes and led the way to his small office at the back of the room. He allowed Day to open the door and preceded him through. He went around his desk and laid the notes on the blotter, but didn’t sit.
“Please close the door.”
Before Day could move, another man entered and closed the door behind him.
“Mr March?” Sir Edward said. “I don’t recall asking for you.”
Retired Detective Inspector Adrian March was a stout man with spectacles and muttonchops, his curly grey hair worn long enough to brush against the top of his collar. He carried a cane, but didn’t appear to need it.
“If it’s all the same, sir,” March said, “I’d like to be paired up with the inspector.” He nodded to indicate that he was talking about Day. “We make a good team.”
“You did,” Sir Edward said. “Mr Day also makes a good team with Sergeant Hammersmith. I plan to pair them.”
“Then I’ll be a third, if you don’t mind. There to offer whatever assistance or advice I can. I’m afraid I don’t know most of these other men and I’m not as fast on my feet as I once was. I’m familiar with Mr Day’s strengths and know those qualities he may require of me.”