James McGee - Resurrectionist

“My name is Dodd.”

Sawney didn’t like being blindsided, especially in what he considered to be the heart of his personal domain. What was that stupid sod, Hanratty, doing, letting a stranger get so close without so much as a by your leave?

“You are Sawney?”

For a moment, Sawney was tempted to deny it, but if the stranger had been in the next booth he’d have overheard his conversation with Hanratty and would therefore have been well aware of his identity before initiating the enquiry.

“What’s it to you?” Sawney asked truculently.

“I wish to hire your services.”

“Is that right?” Sawney’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what would that be for?”

“Procurement.”

Sawney blinked.

“That is your forte, is it not?”

“My what?”

“Your area of expertise.”

“Nah,” Sawney said quickly, shaking his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, squire. You’ve got the wrong man. Not sure I know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Really?” Dodd looked genuinely surprised. “I had it on very good authority that you were the man to ask for.” Without waiting for an invitation, and ignoring Sawney’s glare at his temerity, the newcomer lowered himself on to the opposite bench and rested the handle of the cane against his knee.

“That so?” Sawney’s eyes narrowed warily. “An’ who might that ’ave been then?”

“Thomas Butler.”

Sawney tried to keep his face neutral.

He knew he hadn’t succeeded from the half smile that played along the lips of the man seated opposite, who continued: “A gentleman who is currently employed as head porter at the dissecting rooms at St Thomas’s Hospital.” The smile faded. “But then, you knew that; after all, Butler is your middleman, is he not?”

Sawney stiffened. It was as if the dark eyes were boring into his soul. Over on the bench by the hearth the two whores had begun to stir, perking the interest of the Smithfield boys on the next table who were nudging one another at the prospect of some early-morning exercise. The women’s faces were pink from the heat of the burning logs.

Dodd’s voice broke into Sawney’s thoughts.

“I see my words have unnerved you. Forgive me. Though, were I in your shoes, I suspect I would be just as circumspect. Indeed, your friend Butler suspected this might be your response. It was his suggestion that I furnish you with a snippet of information only the two of you would know, to prove that I have his trust. Can I assume such a gesture would vouchsafe my character?”

Sawney said nothing. He picked up his mug of porter. It kept his hands occupied and, more importantly, it provided him with several vital seconds in which to think.

The newcomer did not seem at all intimidated either by Sawney or the nature of the surroundings. In fact, it was Sawney who was experiencing disquiet. Somehow, this Dodd, as he called himself, seemed to have gained the upper hand. As if to emphasize the subtle shift in authority, the man leant close. Sawney felt himself trapped in the dark gaze. “He told me to tell you that he would have paid another five guineas for the Chinaman.”

Sawney took a sip of porter and slowly lowered his mug to the table.

“He also suggested, should you be in further doubt, that I address you as…” Dodd paused and his voice dropped “… Private Sawney.”

Sawney’s fingers tightened around the handle of his mug. The silence stretched for what seemed like minutes. A sudden crackle of laughter from the two whores eventually broke the tension.

“Nobody calls me that,” Sawney breathed softly. “Not now, not any more.”

Dodd held his gaze for several seconds before sitting back and nodding in brisk acquiescence. “Quite so, quite so. A man’s history is his own affair. It does not behove a person to dwell on the past. Let us say no more about it.” He placed his hands palm down on the table. “So, now that the tiresome introductions are over, do I pass muster?”

Sawney’s pulse began to slow. He frowned; not at the question, nor the lingering tone of condescension, but at the interesting use of words. Muster? Not a term you generally heard away from the parade ground. Was Dodd making fun of him? He stared at the man across the table, but if there was another, deeper message in those dark eyes it remained resolutely out of view. Sawney thought he saw a slight movement at the corner of Dodd’s thin mouth, the ghost of another smile perhaps, but it did not linger. He looked down at the man’s hands. The fingers were long and tapering, matching their owner’s stature. Moving his eyes along, Sawney couldn’t help noticing that the man’s wrists, though slender, were tight with sinew.

“All right,” Sawney conceded, “so you’ve proved it was Butler who sent you. What’s it you want from me?”

Dodd hesitated, as if formulating his reply. Finally he said, “I wish you to procure a certain item for me.”

There was an expectant pause. “You mean a thing?” Sawney said.

“A thing?” Dodd frowned at the term, then nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes, of course, that’s what you call them, isn’t it? How original. I suppose that’s one way of distancing yourselves from the nature of the merchandise. Yes, I do indeed wish you to procure a thing for me.”

Perhaps it had been the note of sarcasm, Sawney could not put his finger on it, but Dodd’s knowing manner was beginning to grate.

“Retrievin’ don’t run cheap.”

“I did not suppose otherwise.” The corner of Dodd’s mouth twitched. “Which is why I’m prepared to offer generous remuneration.”

Sawney frowned. “Come again?”

“You will be well paid.”

Too bleedin’ right, Sawney thought.

“And just so we understand one another,” Dodd continued, “you may address me as Doctor…” The words, again softly spoken, sounded almost like a warning. “I should also inform you that, subject to your performing this initial endeavour to my satisfaction, it is probable I will have further work for you.”

Sawney’s ears pricked up. “What sort of work?”

“I will require you to provide me with several… specimens… things.”

Sawney did not respond. He could tell from the doctor’s tone that there was more to come.

“I have but three stipulations…” Dodd paused, and then said, “They must be fresh, female, and young.”

“Young?” Sawney asked.

“Not mature. Ideally less than twenty-five years of age.”

Sawney considered the brief. He had no qualms about fulfilling the order. The doctor wasn’t asking for anything out of the ordinary. Over the months he’d been in business, Sawney had had far stranger requests. But it didn’t do to let the customer know that.

“Stealin’ to order’ll cost you,” Sawney said.

Dodd’s expression did not alter. “It would also be on the understanding that our agreement is mutually exclusive.”

“Eh?”

“You are to work solely for me.”

Sawney raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Sorry, squire — er, Doctor. That ain’t possible. I got other commitments.”

“It would be for a limited period.”

“Don’t make no difference,” Sawney said. “I got my regular customers.”

Dodd nodded gravely as if sympathizing with Sawney’s dilemma. “Loyalty to one’s clientele is an admirable quality, and I commend you on it. But perhaps I could persuade you to reconsider…?”

He reached into his pocket. When he opened his hand and laid the cross on the table between them, Sawney stared at it.

The doctor spread his arms in a gesture of apology. “I regret that I am unable to access my main accounts at the moment. However, I trust this will suffice, at least for the time being.” Dodd laid his hands open, as though presenting an offering. “It is not without sentimental value to me. However, I’m sure a man of your talents should be able to realize its monetary worth in some form or another. Perhaps you’d allow me to offer it as a token of — how shall I put it? — my good faith.”