The bell chimes sounded louder on the night of the second.

They echoed through London, vibrated off the buildings, and told me that my time was running out. I took it as a warning, a sign that I needed to be quick or else I could not succeed. Everything had to be planned perfectly and my window was closing quickly.

With the sun lingering higher in the sky in the summer months, the shadows were harder to find. They stayed hidden in the confines of the alleyways, mocking me from the sidelines. I had to do it without the darkness and it became all the more dangerous the longer the sun stayed.

I pressed my back against a brick wall, my arms folded across my chest and my eyes focused on a spot on the ground. To anyone passing, I looked like any other workman. Dirty trousers, a soot-covered shirt, mud splattered up my boots, and a flat cap sitting snugly on my forehead. No one, other than a few constables thinking I was in trouble, would have bothered me.

When his clean-cut shoes and pristine trouser cuffs came into view, I knew I had to move. He rounded the corner, passed me without noticing, and continued up the street without pausing to look back. This was a man who had no fear, who walked with pride even though he had nothing to be proud of.

The man in question was thirty-two-year-old Matthew Cusack. He owned a wool mill, one of the many factory owners in the city. Much like Mr Alden, he ruled with an iron fist and pushed his workers beyond their limits. They suffered under his leadership, especially the children in his employment; Mr Cusack decided he was above the law.

No one is above the law.

I followed him down the street, keeping my attention drawn to the ground in front of me and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He didn't notice me; he didn't even check. My footsteps were quick, silent on the cobblestones as I waited for my moment to strike. It had to be perfect. It all had to be perfect. If it wasn't perfect, then I failed, and I wasn't a failure.

My shoulder nudged someone on the street, a person too obsessed with themselves to pay attention to their surroundings. I grunted in response, kept my head low, and kept moving. They couldn't see my face, they couldn't know who I was.

Mr Cusack walked further into the city and I jogged at a light pace to try to keep up. We walked further from his usual haunts, the places I had watched him for four days. He had never ventured very far. He ate the same foods, went to the same places, and never deviated from his routines. This was new.

I clung to the edge of a wall, listening to the sounds of the city around me. We passed women on the streets baring all to those with a few coins in their pockets, and Mr Cusack was no exception. He didn't turn away; he didn't try to stop them. My blood boiled. I knew this man had a wife and children who respected their father for reasons I could not understand, and he was willing to betray them all.

Someone needed to teach him a lesson.

We headed into the seedy underbelly of the city, which still thrived in the summer months despite the lingering sun. He stepped into an alleyway. At the far end was a door almost completely obscured from the view of anyone who didn't know that it was there. Mr Cusack knew. He walked towards it with purpose, a sense of direction.

I had to strike.

I wrestled the hammer from the waistband of my trousers and approached him from behind. The building of ill-repute did not have the same presence it would have at night when all was dark and faces were obscured.

It was silent.

They raised a fist to knock on the decaying wooden door, but I got there first. He didn't get the chance to turn around, never even saw me coming.

I smashed the hammer down onto the crown of his head, hearing the thunk as the metal collided with his head. This time there was no blood, just a dent in his skull. He stared up at me from the ground, his eyes no longer seeing what was in front of him.

I stuffed the hammer back into the waistband of my trousers and disappeared from the alleyway. Another one gone. The city was a better place because of it.

~~~

First Published - February 3rd, 2023