William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

agreed. “Since they are obviouslymen who can pay blackmail sufficient to keep Phillips's silence, they are wealthy men, and so likely to also be men of power, and even of far-reaching influence. We can have no idea who they are.”
    “You do not need to spell it out, Rathbone. I perceive where you are going. It is very grave, as you say. And if you throw around wild and rash accusations, you will place yourself in very great danger indeed. I imagine you realize that?” It was quite definitely a question, and it required an answer.
    “Of course I do, my lord,” Rathbone said grimly. “I have taken intense care regarding to whom I spoke about this.” It might not be wise to let Sullivan think he had told no one else. “But I cannot ignore it. The potential for corruption is too great.”
    “Corruption?” Sullivan asked, staring at Rathbone. “Are you not exaggerating a trifle? If certain men have … tastes that you deplore, is their private behavior, or the company they keep, really your concern?”
    “If they can be blackmailed for money, then I suppose that it is not,” Rathbone replied, measuring every word. “Then they are victims, but until they complain, it is a private suffering.”
    A footman passed, hesitated, and moved on. A woman laughed.
    “But if they are men of power,” he continued. “And the price is no longer money but the abuse of that power, then it is the business of us all. Most particularly if the power concerned is high office in finance, or government, or most especially in the judiciary.” His eyes met Sullivan's squarely, and it was Sullivan who flinched and looked away.
    “What if this man were to pay his blackmail in blindness to bending the law?” he asked. “Or what if he used fraud, embezzlement of money to pay Phillips, after his own funds have run out? Or police authority, to allow or even abet in a crime? Port authorities might overlook smuggling, theft, even murder on the river. Lawyers, or even judges, may corrupt the law itself. Who can say who is involved, or how far it may seep into the fabric of all we believe in, all that separates us from the jungle?”
    Sullivan swayed, his face gray.
    “Get a grip on yourself, man!” Rathbone said between his teeth. “I'm not going to let this pass. Those boys are beaten and sodomized, and the ones who rebel are tortured and murdered. You and I haveboth connived to let Phillips get away with it, and you and I are going to put that right!”
    “You can't,” Sullivan said weakly “No one can stop him. You've seen that. You were used just as much as I was. If you turn against him now, he'll say you were a customer, and defended him to save yourself That your payment was blackmail.” Hope flickered on his face, pasty and sheened with sweat. He took several steps backwards, but there was nowhere to escape to.
    Rathbone followed him, even further away from the crowd. People assumed they were speaking confidentially and left them alone. The crowd swirled around them and away, oblivious.
    “How in God's name did this happen to you?” Rathbone demanded. “Sit down, before you fall over and make a complete fool of yourself.”
    Sullivan's eyes widened as if the idea appealed to him. Insensibility! There was a way to get out after all.
    “Don't entertain it!” Rathbone snapped. “People will think you are drunk. And it will only delay what is inevitable. If you could control yourself, if you could stop, surely to God in heaven, you would have?”
    Sullivan shut his eyes to block out the sight of Rathbone's face. “Of course I would have, damn you! It all began … in innocence, before it became an addiction.”
    “Really?” Rathbone said icily.
    Sullivan's eyes flew open. “I only wanted … excitement! You can't imagine how … bored I was. The same thing, night after night. No thrill, no excitement. I felt half alive. The great appetites eluded me. Passion, danger, romance was passing me by. Nothing touched me! It was all served up on a plate, empty, without … without meaning. I didn't have to work for anything. I ate and left as hungry as I came.”
    “I presume you are referring to sexual appetite?”
    “I'm referring to life, you smug bastard!” Sullivan hissed. “Then one day I did something dangerous. I don't give a damn about relations with other men. That disgusts me, except that it's illegal.” His eyes suddenly shone. “Have you ever had the singeing in your veins, the pounding inside you, the