Doktor Glass by Thomas Brennan

Author:Thomas Brennan [Brennan, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Fantasy, cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9781101618929
Google: R0j1X3lXORkC
Amazon: B0095ZOZ66
Goodreads: 17134642
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2012-12-31T08:00:00+00:00

Twelve

THE OPEN COAL fire sent waves of heat out across Forbes Paterson’s office. Langton stretched out his legs and upturned hands to the warmth, trying to drive out the chill that gripped him. His torn dinner suit bore dark streaks of mud and grease; ocher stains of dried blood flecked his cuffs and shoes.

Langton focused on the flames within the grate. From behind him, the sounds of desk drawers opening and closing, a cork pulled from a bottle, the clink of glass on glass.

“Drink this.” Paterson held out a glass of amber liquor. “My emergency supply.”

Langton didn’t refuse. He breathed in fumes of peat and heather, then took a deep draft of whiskey that burned all the way down his throat. He took another drink and cradled the glass on his stomach.

Paterson pulled a rickety chair closer to the fire and rested his own glass on his knee. After a minute’s silence, he said, “Why didn’t he save himself? What drove him to stay on the tracks?”

Without looking away from the flames, Langton said, “Fear.”

“Surely fear would make him jump? With trains coming at me, I know I would.”

“‘There are worse things than death,’” Langton said. “Those were his words. He feared something so much that he preferred a quick death.”

“Something?” Paterson said. “Or someone?”

Langton nodded. The man who had died on the rails at Edge Hill had been a lieutenant working for another, a man he feared above all else. “Doktor Glass.”

“It must be,” said Paterson. “Proving it is another thing. At least we have Reefer Jake.”

“Where is he?”

“In the basement cells.” Paterson drained his glass and stood up. “Will you sit in on the interview?”

Langton looked down at his soiled clothes. He knew he should go home and change. He cared nothing for his appearance but he could smell the trains’ smoke in his suit, and the blood reminded him of that final collision.

He gulped the last of his whiskey. “I’ll sit in.”

Langton followed Paterson downstairs. At this time of the morning, just before five, headquarters belonged to the few night shift officers and to the cleaners; the stooped women paused in their mopping as Langton and Forbes Paterson descended, and told them to watch their step on the wet stairs.

“Why do you call him Reefer Jake?” Langton asked.

“He used to be a seaman and the nickname seems to have stuck. I’ve never spoken to him although we’ve been after him for close on a year now.”

“And you’re sure he works for Doktor Glass?”

“Sure as I can be.” Forbes Paterson glanced at Langton. “Informers will turn belly-up soon as they see half a crown or a pound note, or sniff another stretch in Walton Jail. Usually. Mention Doktor Glass and they lose their voices.”

The sergeant on the basement cells saw the inspectors approaching and unlocked the barred door. “You’ve sent us a right devil, sir, and no mistake.”

“He’s giving you trouble?” Paterson said.

The sergeant rubbed a rapidly forming bruise on his chin. “Not anymore. He’s in the blockhouse out back.

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