Page 76 of Molly Boys
This meant it wasn’t random. It may have started that way with Simon Blackwell’s boys, but now the killer was specifically choosing his victims and he had his sights set on Everett.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Archie demanded.
“The giant, the one you had the artist’s sketch of,” Merritt replied. “He was there and he had Lord Stanley slung over his shoulder.”
“He was out cold,” Kips supplied helpfully. “The lord, that is, not the giant.”
“Yes thank you, Kips,” Merritt said, his eyes flashing in warning before turning back to Archie. “We gave pursuit but he had a cart. Dumped Lord Stanley in the back and made off with him. We couldn’t keep up with the horses.”
“Do you know what direction they went?” Archie tried to keep the panic in his belly quiet, but his tenuous control was slipping.
“No, sir.” Merritt shook his head. “I’m sorry, but like I said, we couldn’t keep up.”
“Damn it!” Archie slammed his hand down on the desk. “They could be anywhere! I can’t just sit around and wait for Lord Stanley’s body to—” Archie closed his eyes as his breath hitched. He couldn’t even finish that sentence; just the thought of finding Everett like the others clawed his insides to shreds.
“What about the fellow at the factory?” Merritt asked, his expression just as hopeless as Archie’s. “Baxter?”
“I thought…” Archie shook his head. “I was mistaken.”
“I don’t think you were,” Doctor Shaw said from the hallway. He slipped around the two constables loitering in the doorway and entered the room, clearly having heard every word.
“What?” Archie turned his focus to Shaw.
“I think you were right, you were definitely onto something.” He waved a file at him. “After our last conversation, I visited with some of my colleagues at the Royal College of Surgeons to prove your theory about there being partners. We’re already aware of the large man who abducts the victims.” Shaw turned a disapproving eye on the two constables. “If we could stop referring to him as a giant, please. That’s not a recognised scientific term.”
“Robert,” Archie snapped. “What did you find?”
“I started out looking for men with medical or surgical training who have been dropped or banned from the Royal College. If we’re right and these victims are being used for some kind of experimentation, then it’s obviously not approved by the Royal College.” Shaw opened the file to reveal a list of names and dropped it on the desk in front of Archie. “Guess whose name is third on the list?”
Archie’s gaze skimmed over the names and caught on the third line.
Edmund James Baxter. Colburn St, Mile End.
Archie frowned, his gaze meeting Shaw’s. “But I met him. There was something about him, something unsettling, and I could’ve sworn he was our man, but his hands… he has a pronounced tremor. There’s no way he could hold a scalpel.”
“Well, I’ve also met Edmund Baxter,” Shaw replied, “and I can tell you he’s never had a tremor in his hands.”
"What?”
“He was always a small, thin man, prone to illness. His body was weak, yes, but despite that, he was considered somewhat of a prodigy. The man’s intellect was significant, but I always felt he considered himself above everyone else. I only met him a few times when he was a student, but his habit of humiliating those he considered his intellectual inferior was repulsive.”
“What happened?” Archie asked. “If he was such a prodigy, why did he leave the Royal College?”
“He didn’t, he was thrown out.” Shaw shook his head. “It was all very tight-lipped at the time. No one would say what happened, but his father nearly bankrupted himself trying to keep it hushed up. But there were rumours.”
“Rumours?”
“That he was performing unethical and unsanctioned medical experiments,” Shaw replied. “According to my old mentor Arthur Atbridge, whom I spoke with earlier today, Baxter was convinced he could find the cure for his condition.”
“He thought he could find the cure to what exactly?”
“He became obsessed with cell theory and was convinced he could take the healthy vital cells from a strong virile subject and synthesise a serum that would reverse his body’s natural disposition and make him physically stronger.”
“My god, that’s what he’s doing with these young men. It has to be him. When I visited, he must have faked the tremor to stop me from getting too close to the truth.”
Shaw nodded. “That would be my guess.”
“Clever bastard,” Archie murmured. “The question is, where would he take Lord Stanley?” He chewed his lip, his brow folded in concentration as his mind turned over all the information. “Not his home. It’s too new, too small, too easily searched. He wouldn’t be able to get the victims in and out without someone noticing. It has to be the factory. His family has owned it for generations and most of it is no longer in service. Additionally, it’s close to the river so his partner could come and go at will, in search of victims.” Archie looked up at the two constables, his eyes blazing. “Merritt, get that head seen to. Kips, tell the sergeant to assemble the men, as many as you can find. It’s a large factory. We’re going to have to search every square inch and we don’t know how much time Lord Stanley has.”