Page 59 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
But none of us could have guessed how unwell he was. None of us could have guessed that one of Gabe’s closest friends would betray him in the most dreadful way.
Francis pointed to various locations on the key map. “Stanley will need access to laboratories to test Gabe’s blood once he extracts it. The main hospitals have modern facilities, so I think his new digs will be near one of those.”
Cyclops circled his finger on the eastern section of the city’s key map. “He’d get a place somewhere where folk don’t ask questions when they see an unconscious man being carried by two others. Somewhere Gabe would be just another drunk helped home by friends. The East End.”
Willie whipped out the envelope she’d found under the dresser in Frank Alcott’s room. She slapped it down on the table beside the atlas. “The postmark shows it was posted from the E1 district. That’s the East End. It’s dated last Tuesday. It could have been sent by Stanley from his new digs.”
Alex flipped the pages until he reached the maps focusing on the East End. “There are a few hospitals in the area, the Royal London being the largest.” He pointed to it, as well as another four. “There are a lot of buildings in the vicinity, each with many rooms. The search will take time.”
“It’s a start,” Cyclops said. “I’ll contact my men.”
They sounded grimly determined. I held out much less hope of success, however. Scotland Yard could put as many resources into the search as they wanted, but I doubted it would yield results. The residents of the East End would be unwilling to tattle on their neighbors. The East End also covered a sizeable area. It had a lot of densely packed buildings crammed into its maze of streets, alleys and courts. The task of going through each room in each house and tenement was enormous.
We still thought it worth visiting Juan. He’d been closer to Stanley than Francis, having served alongside him in the same company, with Gabe as their captain. Perhaps he even had a new address for Stanley.
We thanked Francis and headed off. Cyclops took a taxi to Scotland Yard to redirect all available resources to searching the East End. Alex, Willie and I drove to Juan’s flat.
Fortunately, we caught Gabe’s Catalonian-born friend as he was locking up. A few minutes later and we would have missed him.
“We need to speak to you,” Alex told him.
Juan checked his wristwatch. “Can we talk while I walk? I have to go to work.”
Willie blocked his path. “At this hour?” It wasn’t yet evening, but most men were returning home from working in an office, not leaving.
“I am part-owner of a new nightclub. There is much to do before we open at ten. You should come one night, all of you. It is fun. The music is jazzy, and I will give you a free drink.” He looked past us to the lift cage. “Where is Gabe?”
“That’s what we need to speak to you about,” Alex said. The neighboring door opened, and a couple emerged, arm in arm and laughing. “May we go inside? It’s important.”
Juan seemed to notice our grim faces for the first time. He unlocked the door and invited us in. His flat resembled Francis’s, but without the books. He wasn’t quite as neat as Francis either, but few people were.
He removed a newspaper from the table and put away a dirty cup before inviting us to sit. No one did. “Something is the matter, no? Where is Gabe?”
“Kidnapped by Stanley Greville,” Willie said in her usual direct manner.
Juan sat, muttering something in his native language. “Are you sure it is Stanley? No, it cannot be him,” he said before any of us could answer. “He and Gabe are friends. Gabe saved him in the war. He would not harm the captain.”
Alex outlined our reasons for suspecting Stanley and what we believed to be his motive. “We need to find his new address. If he’s not keeping Gabe there, we can still watch it in the hope Stanley will lead us to him. Did he inform you where he was moving to?”
Juan shrugged. “I did not know he moved at all.”
Then we were no closer to finding Gabe. As much as we told ourselves that Scotland Yard had a search of the East End in hand, the reality was quite different. It would take time. Time that Gabe may not have.
Juan clicked his fingers. “He owns a house. I remember, in the war, he told me this when we were up to our knees in a muddy trench, but he did not mention it since. If he still owns it, he could be there.”
“He owns a house!” Willie cried. “Then why was he renting a flat?”
“Because it is in a bad area, and he did not want to live there himself. He rented it to the poor. When he told me this, in the trench, he was feeling guilty. He said when the war ended, hewould fix up the house, and make it better for the tenants. He wanted to be a better landlord.”
“What’s the address?” Willie asked.
Juan shrugged. “I do not know.”
Willie grabbed the front of his jacket. “Think!”
Juan put up his hands in surrender. “I am sorry, but I do not know.”
“My father can find out,” Alex said. “It shouldn’t be difficult.” He was already striding toward the door before he finished speaking. “I saw a telephone booth downstairs in the foyer.”
