Lifeblood by Tom Becker Page A

who’s to say they can’t kill us?”
    The blackmailer snorted. “I wouldn’t worry just yet. We don’t know what happened to Rafferty. Maybe he tripped over his own shoelaces and banged his head. And if it was one of the Rippers, so what? It’s a warning shot, nothing more. Rafferty was little more than a bargaining chip.”
    Humphrey looked down at his plate. “I suppose you’d have said the same thing if I’d been the one who was murdered.”
    â€œCome, come, Granville,” de Quincy said, patting him with a bone-cold hand. “I told you. It’s just me and you now. We have to stick together. Look, the plan is progressing exactly as it should do. We have contacted both of the Ripper’s remaining children – our old friend Brother Fleet, and Marianne. They are now keenly aware that we know their assumed identities, and will happily divulge this information to whoever pays us the most money. Now let’s see how high we can drive the auction.”
    â€œDo you think they’ll pay?”
    De Quincy bit back an oath. “Granville, we’re offering them a passport to the Ripper’s throne. No Blood Succession, no risk of a painful death. All they have to do is bump off the other in some dingy corner of Darkside, and wait until dear old Thomas dies. They’ll pay, all right. For pity’s sake, hold your nerve. Within a week this will all be over, and you’ll be one of the richest men in Darkside.” He rose, fitting his top hat over his paintbrush hair. “Time to leave this wretched hovel. Are you coming?”
    Humphrey shook his head vigorously. “After what happened to Edwin? No fear. Darkside’s too dangerous right now. I’m not going back until this deal is done and dusted.”
    â€œAs you wish.” De Quincy looked around pointedly. “Though for the life of me I can’t understand how you can spend time in Lightside.”
    â€œOh, if you only tried it,” Humphrey replied, his eyes suddenly shining, “you’d see that there’s so much to do. Everywhere I go, every street I walk down, I see these beautiful restaurants, menus crammed with dishes we’ve never even heard of. Do you know what a curry is, Nicholas? Or chicken chow mein?”
    De Quincy shook his head.
    â€œEvery mouthful is an experience here. And even if I dined out every day, it would take me years to eat in all the restaurants here.”
    Humphrey sat back in his chair with a dreamy smile. Not trusting himself to say something pleasant, de Quincy nodded stiffly and hurried out of the door. Seeing that the coast was clear, the waitress returned to the table and began clearing up the plates.
    â€œAnything else?” she inquired.
    Humphrey checked his pocket watch and glanced up at the menu board. It wasn’t as if there was anything important he had to do today.
    â€œI’ll have the same meal again, please. With mushrooms this time, I think.”
    As the waitress bustled back towards the counter he unfolded the ancient copy of the Informer , and began to read the front page again.

7
    Â 
    Â 
    T hey fought the blaze through the night and into the dawn, ranks of Darksiders passing buckets of water in human chains. As the fire spread outwards from the Midnight and dragged the rest of the building into its furious embrace, it seemed like a hopeless task. Men had to bellow at one another to make themselves heard above the roar. Flames danced in the sky above the Grand.
    Gradually, however, the Darksiders began to get the upper hand. They attached hosepipes to fire hydrants in the street, and sent streams of water into the heart of the blaze. Wounded, the fire pawed at the woodwork and lashed out at anyone foolish enough to get too close. But by the time the bleary sun had risen into the sky, the last flames were being extinguished.
    It was far too late for the Midnight, though. The pub was a blackened shell