Tigars

[Tom]

The rain hammered against the cobblestones.
Anna walked half led, half dragged by her client. He wasn’t as uptown as her usual clientele, dressed in a working mans jacket and slacks his neck adorned with a clumsily tied neckerchief instead of the usual waist-coat and frock of the dandies she was used to, but what did she expect? Business had ground to a halt amongst the gentile upper class since the outbreak; the bourgeoisie hastily trying to atone for their sins in the firm belief that judgement day was upon them, so she had had to go to a more abject haunt than she was used to. She was a call girl, and a well sought after one, still on the cusp of womanhood yet able to teach any man pleasures they had not even knew existed. A succubus in the guise of an angel, she had become accustomed to the comforts that the gentile patronage had to offer, such as a warm bed and a hot meal. Before the cholera she would never have dreamt of stooping to something as base as a bar full of sailors and vagabonds, but her pockets where as empty as her belly so desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, she reasoned, he isn’t that repugnant, in fact he was more handsome than some of her more gentlemanly clients, so it wasn’t as if she’d ended up with a complete dog.
‘In here’
He pulled her through a door into an abandoned warehouse. It was freezing inside, and as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she saw shapes, vats and machinery. Her nose was assailed by the sulphuric tang of quicksilver. This was a tailor’s workshop.
‘Should we be in here?’
‘The door was open wasn’t it? Besides, if people don’t want there homes broken into they should invest in a decent lock’
Something was wrong with the way he spoke but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. His breath carried with it the scent of cheap vodka, and that combined with the quicksilver made her cough. The patron grinned wryly
‘You ought to be careful you know, who you cough over, you might catch something’
‘Trust me love, I’ve been around disease plenty so there ain’t nothing that my body can’t sort out’
She giggled to herself, being in that bar had made her slip back into the old tongue she had used before she moved up in the world. Her client took the laughter as a queue and undid his breaches. She sighed
‘Oh alright then, but be quick, or you’ll catch your death out here in the cold’
He lifted up her dress and pressed her hard against the wall. It was quick, as she had expected it to be, what with the level of intoxication on the part of her customer. After he had taken his fill, she pulled out her purse.
‘Ah… you’re a sharp one aren’t you?’
‘Yeah and you’d have me for a fool if I ain’t so pay up’
Maybe it was his accent? She still couldn’t quite pick up why the way he spoke didn’t fit his persona, but she had more important things to worry about, such as her client not completing the agreed transaction.
‘Yes, well, I have my wallet in here somewhere… If you’ll bear with me for a second…’
He delved into his pocket in an attempt to locate his wallet, but to no avail. He looked at her, grinned guiltily, and then felt the other pocket. Anna raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he frantically began searching first the pockets of his jacket, then his trouser pockets again, and then even his socks.
‘Lost something?’
She was onto his game, it was the oldest in the book and she would not fall for it. She would leave with payment, whether it was coins or clothes, she would leave with payment.
‘You know love, that jacket would fetch a nice price on the market, lets say I take it and then we call it quits, alright?’
‘No, no, I have it in here somewhere…’
There it was again, the voice. It was definitely his accent she was sure of it, it didn’t fit, but it was most certainly a London accent that one would hear on the street every day so she couldn’t work out why it bothered her so much.
‘Look just gives me the jacket and we’ll call it even, I can’t be standing around all bleedin’ night it’s bad for business. You don’t want me to call the Hamlet brothers do you?’
The Hamlet Brothers were the law as far as the dangerous game that was buying and selling courtship was concerned. Originally from Prussia, Karl and Emile Hamlet were a force to be reckoned with. For the meagre payment of a shilling a month from each working girl, plus the occasional favour such as opium running or ‘pro bono’ services for potential business partners of the brothers, The girls could work the streets safe in the knowledge that nothing would happen to them, or that if it did the Brothers own special variety of justice would be swiftly brought down upon them. The last person to cross the Brothers was found in a tree 20 miles out of the city, and even then all that they found was a hand, some teeth, and a note with ‘sorry’ written across it 23 times in blood. The very threat of their name was enough to keep any potential trouble makers in check.
‘Ah, I’ve found it.’
As he reached into his back pocket Anna finally realised what was wrong with his voice. She had been so used to having upmarket clients she had not thought it strange that this man spoke like one, but now she noticed that this vagrant, this lowlife; this peasant spoke with all the pronunciation and form of an uptown gentleman.
‘So what are we talkin’ here kind sir? Copper, perhaps, or silver maybe?’
‘No’
He said with a baleful grin as he pulled his hand out from his back pocket. Anna’s eyes widened and she began to scream.
‘Lead’

A cat bolted from a doorway to a warehouse as a cart pulled up into the street. A shadowed figure exited the warehouse, looked around, then climbed up into the car clutching something in a bag. The cart sped away into the distance, the sound of it leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The rain hammered against the cobblestones.
_________________
By reading this you have just agreed to become my slave and your soul now belongs to me, doesnt it feel nice to be cheated out of your soul?