Kronberg Crimes 01 - The Devils Grin

had made me an attractive offer. Rowlands and I parted with a firm handshake -- the second one since my appointment at his hospital.
    Three days later, my bacterial pure cultures and I moved into a large and well-equipped laboratory. Two assistants were placed at my disposal to help develop vaccines against the two diseases that cost London more lives than any other: tetanus and cholera. Compared with these two, the death toll of murderers was negligible.
    It took a while to convince my new employers, but at the end of a heated negotiation they agreed that only I, as the trained bacteriologist, would handle the hazardous viable bacterial cultures, while my assistants would clean and disinfect the lab ware, prepare the culture medium, handle the heat-killed germs, and record the experimental procedures and observations. For weeks we tested tetanus bacteria on rabbits and mice that were kept in the small outdoor area behind my lab. We could reach an immunity of up to fifty per cent – five out of ten animals would not contract tetanus when immunised a week before the infection.
    Unfortunately, there was a problem with mortality. The heat-killing of germs was not reliable – one-third of the immunised animals contracted tetanus and died.

    ~~~

    The small kitchen of my spartan apartment on Tottenham Court Road smelled of fresh bread. I cut off two slices, spread them with butter, and sprinkled a little salt on top, then took the kettle off the flame and poured boiling water onto expensive tea leaves. The hissing gas lamp gave little light, but it sufficed to see what my hands were doing and to let the men down on the street know that I was still at home and moved about.
    They had tailed me today and it had been a sloppy first attempt of the four. Holding my sandwich in one hand, I walked towards the small window and cautiously peeked through the tattered curtain. They were arguing in the shadows next to a shop window, hands flicking at each other’s faces, a fist raised in my direction. That was a good sign. I opened the apartment door, walked down the flight of stairs, opened the door to the street, and called, ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’
    Their heads jerked in my direction. I stepped aside while holding the door open. An inviting gesture, although not a friendly one. They crossed the street, appearing indecisive and almost scared.
    ‘Good evening,’ each one of them said, probably not knowing what else would be appropriate. They passed me and entered the house. I followed and noticed that they knew I lived on the first floor. From tomorrow morning on I would hide a match between the door and its frame. Anyone entering would move the match from its original position.
    The four men walked up the staircase and through the door I had left ajar.
    ‘Dr Reeks, Dr Hindle, Dr Kinyon and Dr Nicolas,’ I said as coolly as I could manage, ‘you have tailed me and watched my window for the last forty minutes. What do you have to say?’
    With my back against the door, arms crossed over my chest, I showed my incisors with a grin. The men looked at each other, their faces betraying their insecurity. Hindle harrumphed and answered for the others in a defiant tone, ‘We don’t trust you!’
    ‘That’s not my problem,’ I replied.
    ‘Why do you live in such a shabby place?’ Reeks barked.
    ‘That is none of your business. But as you are my guests now, I have to treat you accordingly. I live simple because luxury dulls the higher senses. A detail you surely haven’t noticed.’ The spite in my words did not sound in my voice. My smile was cold, though, and didn’t go unnoticed by my guests.
    ‘We think you are hiding something from us.’
    At that I laughed wholeheartedly. ‘Interesting theory. What information do you have to support it?’
    The irritation my answer caused was palpable.
    ‘We talked to your former colleagues at Guy’s. Some say you are soft. You are reportedly treating patients nicer than anyone else.’
    ‘Well, that is of course rather horrible,’ I replied with mock concern, and somewhere in the back of my head I started wondering when I had got so suicidal.
    ‘From what we heard, we cannot believe that you would be able to—’ Hindle was cut off by Nicolas’s elbow making painful contact with his ribcage.
    My heart rate increased, but I gained control over it soon enough. ‘Hindle, if you don’t trust me, why are you trying to reveal a secret that Nicolas clearly doesn’t want me to