Episode 11: The Perfect Specimen

THE SCIENTIST: Experiment 31E, supplemental notes.

Date: November 6, 1843.

Today…I feel as if I am reaching the culmination of all my hard work. But…I am beginning to worry about the costs.

John has been avoiding me, as much as he is able to while still performing his job. He does not speak outside of what he absolutely must say. He has not asked about Stove.

As for that cat, she has been acting…strange. Perhaps she misses John. Or perhaps…perhaps she is still adjusting to being resurrected. She has been hissing incessantly and tried to bite me numerous times. I have placed her within a cage until I can figure out what is wrong.

Agnes casually reminded me again that she has a gun. I have yet to take her up on the offer. I fear, though, she may do something without being asked if Stove escapes her cage.

And then there is the situation with the Rubedo. This morning, I received a hastily scribbled note from Solomon and Rahul. It was a warning. They had heard from a friend that the Rubedo planned to strike soon. Perhaps the Rubedo somehow know how close I am to completing my experiment—did their Seers see that? Or have they managed to turn one of my servants? John may be more sympathetic to their cause now…

I’m not sure when or how the Rubedo will attack, but the threat seems credible enough to Solomon and Rahul that they are going underground for now, in case the Rubedo realize they have been keeping me informed. They told me to run. Abandon the experiment and run.

But I can’t. I’m too close.

In one more day, this could all be over. Then I can run.

Which brings me to the final complication.

I sent John to contact Herman. It was…an awkward moment having to ask John… I have perhaps been avoiding him as much as he has been avoiding me these past few days… I would have contacted Herman myself, but I do not know how. John has always done it for me…

And he did, once more, just as I asked. He is nothing if not loyal to his duties…

Unsurprisingly, Herman’s response was to demand to meet in person. Not only had I expected that, I had hoped for it. Because what I needed to request was something I did not feel comfortable discussing with John—especially not right now.

So we set up a meet for earlier this evening. I went into town with just my coachman then proceeded on foot to the meeting by myself. I did not bring John. I know he would not have wanted to go, and I did not want him present during the conversation I was about to have. My coachman asked briefly where John was, curious as to why I was going into town alone at night. I told him it was not of his concern, and he wisely asked no further questions despite the expression on his face clearly indicating he had many more to ask.

After my last confrontation with Herman, I was not looking forward to meeting with him. To be perfectly honest, I would love nothing more than to see him dead, to strangle the breath out of him with my own hands. Unfortunately, though, I still need his help. However, I would not allow myself to feel so defenseless in his presence again. This time, I went armed with two daggers. I briefly considered a pistol, but as I’ve said before, they bring too much attention when fired.

Besides, I would be within a close enough range that the daggers would suffice.

Herman wanted to meet at a pub. Not Agnes’s father’s, thankfully, as that would add yet another complication I didn’t need. But it was certainly not a pub I would have chosen to visit on my own. It was dark and dirty. There were several drunken men shouting and singing off-key, making a cacophony with their carousing.

But the noise offered a cover for a conversation filled with less than legal dealings.

After entering the pub—and immediately wishing to exit—I scanned the crowded room for a familiar face. Herman sat in the back corner, the darkest corner, at a small table far from the commotion. He saw me spot him and smiled with those awful teeth. I made my way toward him, overwhelmed by the sounds and smells surrounding me. But I couldn’t back out, not now.

“Victoria,” he said with a smirk as I took the seat across from him.

His use of my name continues to rankle, as does his obvious change in attitude now that he knows who I am. I know he thinks me being a woman makes me more vulnerable. He probably thinks I’m less intelligent, less capable. Worse still, I think he believes he can somehow charm me. Maybe his pretty face has allowed him to get away with certain things when interacting with others, but it won’t work on me.

“Herman,” I said. “You wanted to speak with me in person about obtaining the next specimen.”

He nodded. He was leaning lazily back in his chair, head resting against the wall behind him. A small smile still lingered on his face, teeth hidden, as he watched me closely. It looked casual. Cavalier.

But above all else, calculated.

I had always assumed he was an idiot, someone who had lowered himself to the least common denominator out of a lack of any other skills. But I had underestimated him. I won’t do it again. So despite the friendly—charming—attitude he wanted to convey, I knew there was something lurking underneath.

“I will need a fresher specimen than usual,” I said when it became clear he had no intention of saying anything further.

His lips quirked slightly. “And I’m going to need more money,” he said.

I knew that would be his request. And I was ready for it.

“I will pay you triple,” I said.

“Triple what’s in the original contract?” he asked. “Or triple what you promised the last time we renegotiated?”

“Triple the renegotiated amount,” I replied.

“So sixty then?” he remarked.

I nodded in response.

He grinned and said, “I remember when you didn’t want to pay me thirty.”

“Things have changed,” I said. “I need this done quickly. And quietly.”

“I’m always quiet,” he said. “And I can be quick as you need, love.”

I tried to not show my disgust at that pet name, but I’m quite certain I failed. That seemed to amuse Herman even more. He wanted to see me squirm. Like a bug trapped between his fingers, struggling to free itself.

I did not want to give him the satisfaction of having unnerved me, so I tried hard to stay composed.

“Within the next two days, I will need a specimen,” I said. “One that died…as recently as possible.”

“I can check the hospitals and workhouses tonight,” Herman said. “See if anyone died. I might be able to sneak one out for you in the morning.”

“No,” I said. “I need something…fresher.”

Something shifted in his expression, the calculations changing behind those languid eyes.

“How fresh are we talking?” he asked.

“I need a body in my lab no more than a few hours after its death,” I said.

There was a slight tilt now to his head, as if the beads of an abacus had slid to one side, the calculations fluctuating once more. He stared at me a moment. I tried to hold his gaze but maintaining eye contact has never been my forte. I wanted to look away, but there was something happening in that twisted brain of his. I wanted to know what he was thinking…

“That doesn’t leave much time to find a body, contact you, and have you pick it up,” he said finally. “It takes an hour just to get from the city to your manor. Should I bring it to you myself then?”

“No,” I said. I did not want him at the manor. “You will send a message, and I will come into Manchester and get the body myself.”

Herman shook his head slowly, his eyes still on mine. “Not possible,” he said.

“It has to be,” I said back.

He shook his head again, slow and deliberate, and said, “Can’t. At least not with how we’ve been working.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

I could see the abacus beads slipping across his mind again. I could not tell what they were adding up to. But I had a feeling…

“You want a body that died that recently,” he said, “then you might want to consider taking care of the dying part yourself.”

I shifted my arm slightly to feel the reassuring presence of the dagger up my sleeve before I spoke next. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You need a dead body—make one.”

I forced myself to keep holding his gaze even though every cell of my body was recoiling, my instincts telling me to run.

But I had known…this was where this conversation was going to go. It’s why I didn’t want John there…I didn’t want anyone there…

“Is that something you’ve done before?” I asked.

“Are you asking if I’ve killed someone?” asked Herman. “Or if I’ve killed someone and sold their body?”

“Either,” I said.

Herman shifted forward and I had to fight not to lean away from him. He placed his elbows on the table, squared his shoulders, and looked at me, all pretense of charm vanished.

“Both,” he said.

I nodded, acknowledging, and then…I don’t know why but I asked, “Did they deserve it?”

He didn’t so much as blink. “Does it matter?” he asked.

No, it didn’t. I had once thought he wasn’t the type, but after his attitude changed toward me, I had seen something in his eyes. No more deference to me, the supposed lord—no, now I could see the balance of power had shifted for him. He saw me as…beneath him. As something…less than. And I could see…I could see the unctuous servant morph into a shrewd predator.

Once his estimation of me had changed, he lowered his guard, and I could easily sense the blood on his hands.

“Are you prepared for this?” he asked. “Things might get…messy.”

“Try to keep it as clean as possible,” I said.

Herman nodded. His eyes did not leave mine, as if he’d locked them in place. “Understood,” he said. “I suppose you want me to do it, but if you want to bring the body back to your manor in time, it would be best if you’re there too.”

Unfortunately, he was right.

“Tomorrow night,” I said.

“I’ll be free then,” he drawled, a hint of his cocky smirk returning. “Do you have anyone in particular in mind?” he asked.

“Someone who won’t be missed,” I said. “You pick. Don’t tell me who they are.”

“Right, right,” he said. “Don’t name the lamb you intend to slaughter.” For the first time in minutes, he glanced away from me, over toward the bar. The drunkards from before had started singing again. “Meet me here, around six,” he said, his gaze meandering back to me. “Then we’ll go to our destination, together. You’ll want to bring your boy,” he added, flicking his eyes to the side where John usually stood. “You’ll need some help with the heavy lifting.”

I knew John would never agree to accompany me on such an errand, but I also knew Herman was right. We might need an extra set of hands. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t think my coachman would approve of me putting a body in the carriage. The Boy—John—can bring us to town instead. He usually retrieves my specimens with a cart, but that won’t fit the both of us. He knows how to drive the coach, though. He used to help his father.

“There’s another caveat,” I said. “In addition to being fresh, the body will need to be as intact as possible. No stab wounds, no bullets, no snapped necks.”

Herman snorted, giving me an impatient look. “Then how do you intend to get it done?” he asked.

“Suffocation, aided by chloroform,” I said. “The chloroform will render them lethargic, making it easier to cover their nose and mouth until they pass.”

“Do you happen to have any of this chloroform lying around?” he asked.

“I have a ready supply in my lab,” I said. “I will bring what we’ll need.”

Herman whistled low. “You’ve thought a lot about this,” he said. “You were expecting it, weren’t you, Victoria?”

“Do not call me that,” I snapped.

Herman sat up slightly, a hint of surprise on his face. “What would you prefer then?” he asked. “Miss Trafford?”

“Call me Corvino,” I said. “As you did before.”

“But without the Lord, I suppose?” he said.

“The Lord won’t be necessary,” I admitted.

Herman smirked and said, “I tend to agree.” Then he gave me that calculating look again. “Is this something you’ve done before?” he asked, his voice quiet but curious.

“No,” I said.

He nodded and didn’t pursue it further, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.

It wasn’t a lie. I had certainly never sat in a pub plotting someone’s murder to use their body as a specimen before.

But I knew…that wasn’t exactly what he was asking.

“Well, sounds like we have a plan, Corvino,” Herman said. “Tomorrow, here, six. Bring the boy—I don’t recommend telling him the details, though.”

“I wasn’t intending to,” I said. “He won’t come if he knows what’s going to happen. And I don’t want him to see it happen, either. He’ll be there to haul, that’s it.”

Herman nodded in agreement and said, “He won’t see it. Promise.”

“Good,” I said.

“I’ll need the money upfront,” he added.

“That can be arranged,” I assured him.

He nodded again, saying, “Good.”

“Good,” I repeated. “If there’s nothing else…”

I stood to leave, watching him watch me. His mind was working, that abacus moving. But I couldn’t see what was whirring behind that gaze.

Somehow, I felt like I had lost a game of chess. I don’t know how else to explain it. He had the upper hand even as I tried to be in control. I wanted to destabilize him, shake that faint quirk of a smirk off his lips.

So I said the first thing that came to mind.

“How exactly did you get your start in this business?”

Herman shrugged, unperturbed. “The same as anyone else finds a job,” he said. “I needed money, and someone made an offer.”

“And it never bothered you?” I asked.

“Does it bother you?” he asked in return.

“Everyone has to die sometime,” I said.

That made him laugh, a quick huff of breath. “Suppose so,” he said.

“Who was your first?” I asked.

“Didn’t know his name,” Herman said. “But it paid well.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said.

He paused. His gaze wasn’t as sure, not as piercing. It wasn’t the earthquake to his composure I had hoped, but his expression was no longer as confident.

After a moment he said, “My father.”

I looked down at him from where I stood. “Did he deserve it?” I asked.

Herman stared back at me, something different, something almost…vulnerable in his eyes, and I realized in that moment…I wasn’t the only one of us who wore a mask.

“He deserved much worse than what he got,” he said.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even nod. I merely turned my back on him and left.

I rode home in my coach, feeling a heavy, cold pit inside my stomach.

I had known what this would become when I left for the meeting. I had tried to avoid this for so long, but somehow…I feel as if part of me knew it would always end this way.

I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to bring more death into this world. I don’t…I don’t want to be like Herman, able to kill without blinking. That is not who I—that is not who I want to be.

I want to bring life. I want to bring something good into this dark and dreary realm.

But…in order to bring light…there must first be darkness. To repair a clock, it must first be broken.

To prove my theory—to create the potential to bring back those we have lost—there must first be a death.

If everything goes well, it shouldn’t even be noticed. I can bring them back and then…they’ll be alive again. It won’t be permanent. And they will have been a part of the noblest experiment in the history of the world.

It is a sacrifice, a necessary sacrifice.

And once it is complete, I can use this new knowledge to help so many. It will be an honor for this person to die in the name of scientific progress. The world will thank them when all is revealed, when I can share what I have discovered. And that person who made the ultimate sacrifice will be alive again to receive that praise.

No one will doubt what I can do—or that I did it all on my own. It wasn’t my father or my mother. It was me. No one will be chasing me, trying to kill me. I will give this greatest of gifts to the world.

It will be fine. All will be well.

This isn’t a murder. It’s a science experiment.