David Golemon: Ripper

“Chief Inspector, I saw this man actually change into something he is not. Not just changes in his demeanor and attitude, but physical changes to his body as well.”

Abberline placed his glass on the table in front of him and then reached for Stevenson’s untouched glass. He pulled the glass forward but hesitated before he drank.

“And this, this … Dr. Jekyll, and your Mr. Hyde, how did you come about meeting him in America?” He finally lifted the second glass and downed that also, all the while holding his gaze on the famous author.

“Inspector, this needs to be resolved now, and not wait for—”

The angry gaze stopped Stevenson from continuing. He realized that policemen do things at their own pace and are even slower sometimes when confronted with an obvious truth. Robert Louis Stevenson could see it in the chief inspector’s eyes — he believed his story.

“I met the gentleman in San Francisco three years ago through a friend who works with Corvallis Lens Company of London. He was there to deliver the most unique set of lenses ever created by his company. These lenses were specially ground, beveled, and buffed for the man who ordered them to use in his laboratory work. These lenses are so well constructed that Ambrose is now seeing things that were once only seen in the realm of the imagination. This man is actually discovering the origins of thought, the use of the human brain, and the power that is hidden in us all. The reason my friend thought I would get along with this professor was due to the fact that this man was slowly piecing together the most unique and advanced microscopic viewing system ever. Intrigued, I went to meet this man for my research.”

“And this Professor Ambrose was accommodating?”

“As accommodating as anyone I have ever dealt with in the business world. He couldn’t stop talking about his work into the naturally occurring aggression that occurs in all living animals. He scared me to the point I had to slow down the real science or my readers would have never understood it. He has the ability to change into something other than he is, and that was three years ago Chief Inspector.”

“And you think your Jekyll and Hyde is my Ripper? Is that what you are saying, sir?”

“One and the same.”

Abberline watched the man closely. He was as experienced as anyone in spotting someone not telling him the truth. But he could see from the demeanor of Stevenson that he was telling nothing but the truth — at least as far as he was concerned.

“As I said, my letters have been intercepted. I have written to you on many occasions, only to have my inquiries go unanswered. Finally, I had to come after hearing the news of this last victim of the Ripper.”

“And why was that?” Abberline said as he continued to look at Stevenson for the lie that would soon surface.

“Because I finally have proof, Chief Inspector,” Stevenson said actually smiling for the first time, and for the first time Abberline could see the exhaustion in the man’s eyes and face. Stevenson reached into his pocket and brought out a folded daily. He swallowed and actually shivered as he opened the newspaper. “This is the London Times , but the picture I am about to show you was picked up by hundreds of newspapers around the world, and this one, the San Francisco Chronicle was no exception. This is why I came as fast as I could.” He pushed the paper toward Abberline who looked from Stevenson down to the paper.

The picture was a rather famous one now. It was taken on the morning of Mary Kelly’s murder. Abberline saw the picture of himself at the crime scene. He looked up at Stevenson without saying a word.

“Chief Inspector, that man standing next to you in the photograph?”

Abberline didn’t have to look at the grainy photo again; he knew who Stevenson was talking about. It was Colonel Stanley of Her Majesty’s Black Watch. Stevenson was pointing out the man who had dogged this Ripper case since the beginning.

“He’s the man that was tailing me three years ago in the United States, and this very same man ransacked my room this very night.”

“And you believe the Ripper case, your Jekyll and Hyde, and this gentleman are all wound together in a nice little ball? And that this Professor Ambrose is making monsters for whatever reason there may be for doing so.”

Stevenson looked confounded. He closed his eyes, thinking he had failed to convince the chief inspector.

“When I met him, Ambrose was working closely with the military aspect of his medicinal application, that’s all I know. The only evidence left from my research is this,” Stevenson said as he pulled a small kerchief from his coat pocket and then looking around suspiciously once again, slowly slid the folded kerchief toward Abberline who made no move to touch the small bundle. Stevenson flipped the kerchief open and Abberline was left looking at a small square of what looked like dried clay.

“Interesting,” Abberline said, still not even giving Stevenson the courtesy of leaning forward to look at the item.

Robert Louis Stevenson looked exasperated as he reached out and picked up the object and then slid over closer to the chief inspector.

“Do you know what this is?”

“I haven’t the faintest.”

“Chief Inspector, this is what is called a relief.” Stevenson looked frustrated for a brief moment when he didn’t see recognition in Abberline’s face. “It’s a proclamation. Or a warning … or maybe just a take. See this hole here at the top? Well, it used to be a hole, it’s broken now after two thousand three hundred years. This was a warning placed on the line of retreat taken by the Greeks from Northern India. It’s in Ancient Greek.”

“Again, Mr. Stevenson, very interesting.”

“See this here,” Stevenson turned the tablet over, carefully exposing the inscription on the back. It was hard to read for Abberline, but Stevenson easily ran his finger across the ancient script. He made sure the chief inspector could see the inscription as he read. “It warns all Greeks to follow the line south and stay out of the jungle and beware the jhinn. It’s like a genie from the Arabian Nights , only of course it’s an ancient Indian legend that originates in the Delhi area and is virtually unknown throughout the world, and this tablet is the only historical reference to that legend. This placard was given to me by Ambrose with a tale that froze my blood.”

“You have my interest piqued, sir,” Abberline said as his eyes were locked on the strange-looking clay tablet.

“This tablet tells the tale of magic … magic that was used against an invading enemy. Truly the power of nature. Beasts that attack alone, in packs, they kill without remorse and follow their orders to the death. The Greeks were attacked from the North of India all the way through the heart of that country. They were running scared from something let loose upon them by a magician.”

Abberline refused to say a word as Stevenson spoke. He thought he would let the man run his course.

“Do you even know what Greeks I am speaking of Chief Inspector? It was this retreat and the legend of the magic used against them that set Lawrence Ambrose on a trail of invention that has become murderous beyond measure. The professor researched the ancient legends of magic from all over the world, and in the deep valleys and vast area of India, he found it. And the legend was believed by one very important man in world history, and it was this man that sent Ambrose off in the right direction.” Stevenson then turned the tablet over and showed Abberline the bust. When the policeman showed no sign of recognition, Stevenson almost angrily pointed to the word just below the relief of the ancient Greek. “Μέγας Άλέξανδρος, or in its more familiar tongue, Mégas Aléxandros,” the writer said, smiling.