She was surprised. He was well dressed and very handsome. Obviously slumming

in

this wretched neighborhood. She wondered why such a man would want a whore.

Perhaps for something he couldn't get at home, she thought. She wondered just

how many seemingly respectable men went in for this sort of thing.

"'Evenin' to ya, guv," she said, putting on the Cockney. "Lookin" for a good

time, are ya?" She gave him a hip shot and a sultry look, then pursed her

lips

and pantomimed a kiss.

"What did you have in mind?" the man said, staring directly into her eyes.

There

was something unsettling about that look, and she just barely resisted the

temptation to look around for Canfield and Turner.

"I know what ya need, luv," she said, inclining her head coquettishly and

giving

him a wink. "'Ow's about we step right into this alleyway, where it's nice

an'

dark, like?"

As he followed her into the alley he reached into the leather bag. There was

the

sound of running footsteps and a cry of, "Hold it right there! Freeze!

Police!"

As they had instructed her, she quickly moved away as the man turned, putting

as

much distance between them as possible and getting over to the side against

the

wall, so that she'd be out of the line of fire.

"Don't make a move," said Turner, his gun held out before him in a two-handed

combat stance. "Not even a twitch."

"Let's see what's in the bag," said Canfield.

With one smooth, breathtakingly swift motion, the man drew a long, gleaming

knife out of the black leather bag, and the two-foot steel blade whistled

through the air faster than the eye could follow.

Whoooooshl

The razor-sharp blade swept down, severing both of Turner's hands cleanly at

the

wrists, then, in the same smooth motion, the Ripper's arm swept up and he

released the blade, hurling it underhanded with incredible force. Turner

screamed with agony, and Canfield fired as the blade struck home, embedding

itself deeply in his chest. His shot went wild and he pitched forward, dead

before he hit the ground. Turner stood there, screaming hoarsely and staring

with disbelief at his hands, one of them lying at his feet, still holding the

gun. His wrists spouted blood. The Ripper reached into the bag and withdrew

another long-bladed knife, similar to the first. It whistled through the air,

and blood spattered on the alley wall with a sound like rain pattering down.

Turner stopped screaming. As if in slow motion, his head rolled off his neck

and

tumbled to the ground with a soft thud. His body collapsed like a marionette

with its strings cut.