I glanced mournfully at Keiren, "I guess break time is
over." I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table,
"Mulder? Before I even get started, I want you to keep your
mouth shut. Understood?"

Grinning, Keiren shook his head in disbelief; "I'll lay ten
bob that the wily Fox can't go for one whole minute without
interrupting you, Walter. Are you willing to lay your money
on the table?"

I smiled grimly at Keiren and shook my head, "Fortunately, I
know better than to throw my money away. When Mulder hears
what I have to say, his head will explode if he tries not to
speak."

Staring keenly at my face, Mulder's hazel eyes gleamed with
excitement. He copied my movements, resting his elbows on
top of the table. Leaning forward he whispered, "I'll do my
best to stay quiet, Walter. Just don't keep us in suspense
any longer. Please?"

Feeling the sudden need to move, I stood and opened the
refrigerator again to look for more ale. "This will be a
thirsty tale, boys. Let me see what I can find to wet our
throats." We had finished off the last of the Guinness with
our meal, so I turned to the cabinet and pulled out the
bottle of Jameson's kept there in case of emergencies. I set
the bottle on the table and went back for glasses, pouring
two fingers for each of us.

Keiren chuckled, "You sure have the way of the Scot about
you, Walter. You draw out a story until your listeners are
begging for more."

Laughing, Mulder folded his hands beneath his chin, "I'm
begging already, Walter. Please? Won't you tell us the
story, now?"

I sipped at the whiskey and cleared my throat, "Yes. Now I
that I have run out of diversionary tactics, I guess I will
tell you the story. I mentioned that my grandparents were
immigrants, but I didn't give you names." Staring at Mulder,
I mentally willed him to remain seated if not silent. "My
maternal great grandfather was Inspector Edward Reid."

His jaw flapped comically as Mulder whipped his head back in
surprise, "THE Inspector Edward Reid? Jack the You Know Who,
Whitechapel, that Inspector Edward Reid?"

I nodded and rubbed my forehead, "The very same, Mulder." I
took a healthy draught of the Jameson's and poured more into
my glass.

Keiren began to nod, accepting my admission with much less
excitement that Mulder. "Your name is Skinner. Is Keith your
brother?"

"Cousin," I muttered. Not by coincidence, my paternal cousin
Keith had collaborated with two other investigative
researchers a few years ago to write 'Jack the Ripper: From
A to Z'. Originally published in England the book received
quite a bit of critical notice. Keith never failed to
express his disappointment in me because I refused to break
my oath and provide him with inside information.

Mulder scowled darkly. He took a token sip of his drink and
pronounced, "We've worked together all this time and you
never bothered to mention that your great grandfather headed
the investigation for the most sensational serial murder
case of the last two centuries?"

Keiren laughed, "Whatever were you thinking, Walter? Don't
you know this laddie's sole purpose in life is to find the
truth?" He sobered, "So, I guess you probably know the name
of our mysterious Jack, who delighted in killing those poor
unfortunates, don't you?"

I stared directly into Keiren's eyes and stated, "Jacks.
There was more than one man. Of course, I never met Edward
Reid personally, but according to my grandfather's account,
a select group of Freemasons committed the murders. That is
why all the witnesses' descriptions were so varied."

Mulder moaned softly, "My god, Walter! You have to tell the
whole story. I insist." He reached into his jacket pocket
for a pen and grabbed the remaining clean napkin from the
table. "Go slow. I want to take notes."

Removing my glasses, I rubbed my eyes and stretched my back,
"There isn't much to tell, Mulder. You have heard all the
theories. Most of them hold some elements of truth." I drank
again. "Okay, like I said before: I never spoke with the
Inspector, he died long before I was born, but his son -- my
grandfather -- explained it to me this way."  I began my
story without further preamble.

"In 1888, Prince Edward Albert Victor, grandson of Queen
Victoria fathered a child by a prostitute, Ann Crook. To
make matters worse, the prince married Ann in a small
Catholic church and legitimized his heir, a girl named Alice
Margaret. When rumors reached Windsor Castle, the Queen
contacted the Special Branch to investigate and rectify the
situation with due haste.  On the heels of this scandal, the
Court Physician, Sir William Gull immediately assaulted the
royal personage with more serious blow: Eddy was dying from
syphilis, the disease process far too advanced for
treatment."

I paused for another sip of whiskey. I noticed Mulder's
glass sat barely touched in front of him. "If you'd like
soda instead, there's Coke in the ice box, Mulder."

Mulder jumped up from the table, "Great. I'm not much into
hard liquor." He snagged a can of soda and resumed his seat.
Sliding the glass toward me, he popped the top of his can
and drank heartily, "Thanks."

Keiren poured Mulder's drink into his own glass and grinned,
"No need to let good whiskey go to waste." He sipped
appreciatively and nodded to me, "Please go on, Walter. This
story has always fascinated me...well, me and everyone else
in the free world, I'm sure. Have you ever told it before?"

Running a hand self-consciously across the top of my balding
head, I glanced down at my glass, suddenly interested in the
light reflected in the swirling amber liquid.  "No. I
promised my grandfather never to tell what he shared with
me. This was the only condition he would accept in return
for telling me the whole story. If it weren't for
that...that...whatever you call that thing in my closet, I
would never break my promise. I would have taken the
knowledge to my grave."

Mulder placed his hand gently on my arm. "It's okay, Walter.
If your grandfather knew what you were dealing with right
now, he would tell us the story himself. You're not breaking
your word to him."

Taking a ragged breath, I nodded and resumed my tale, "The
head of Special Branch, Michael Kidney and Doctor Gull were
high-ranking officials in the Freemasons' Order, and as such
had opportunity to discuss the dire state of affairs in
utmost privacy. Gull and Kidney consulted Robert Anderson,
another Freemason, recently appointed Secretary of the
Prison Commissioners. The three men devised a plan and
approached several trustworthy, yet less prominent members
of the secret society."

"Special Branch disposed of Ann Crook as decreed by Her
Royal Highness Victoria, as well as Ann's parents and infant
daughter. Dr. Gull spirited Eddy away, sending his ward
across the Isles and eventually to the Continent, making
sure the prince was not in the vicinity when the plan was to
be enacted."

"James Kenneth Stephen was Eddy's closest friend. Gull
approached and entreated Stephen to act in Eddy's stead.
Gull insisted that Stephen eliminate the woman who infected
the prince and signed his death warrant.  Stephen readily
agreed."

Keiren took this opportunity to interrupt, "But I thought
that Eddy was a homosexual, Walter. That he and J.K. Stephen
were actually lovers and the prostitutes were just a cover
to protect their secret."

I nodded and smiled, "You know a bit more about this that
you're letting on, don't you? The prince and Stephen were
lovers. Evidently, Eddy decided to take a walk on the wild
side. He did marry Ann Crook and fathered her child; at the
very least he accepted responsibility and acknowledged
paternity of Alice Margaret."

Keiren rubbed his chin, his eyes focusing inward,
"Right...therefore, that explains why Stephen was so easily
convinced to join Gull and his cronies. Wait...did your
grandfather mention whether Stephen contracted syphilis,
too?"

Mulder jumped in with a tremble of excitement in his voice.
"No one seems to know for sure! Stephen's family claimed he
suffered a serious head injury in 1886 and his behavior grew
increasingly more erratic. If he did contract syphilis from
the prince, this would explain the onset of insanity."
Mulder blushed and grinned turning to me, "Sorry, Walter.
This is your story. Please go on. We'll try not to interrupt
any more."

I smiled easily at Mulder. The Jameson's had given me just
enough of a buzz to make me far more tolerant of the
excitable young agent than I would ever be at the Bureau.
"No problem, Mulder. Ask as many questions as you like. If
it will help us nail down what is residing in my closet, you
and Keiren can sit here and interrogate me all night."
Pouring more courage into my glass, I sipped while regaining
my train of thought. "After an intense investigation, Mick
Kidney provided a list of five prostitutes. These women
attended the wedding of Prince Edward and Ann Crook and had
knowledge of the child, Alice. Kidney contacted Anderson
immediately. Stephen received the first name on the list and
traveled to Whitechapel under the cloak of darkness. He
botched the job by murdering Martha Tabram or Turner by some
accounts, on August 6th, 1888.  Stephen mistook Martha
Tabram for Mary Ann Nichols."

Mulder tapped his pen on the table, "That explains why
Tabram was raped and tortured, but not mutilated like the
other five women! Stephen was not a member of the
Freemason's, right?"

I agreed, "Right. Gull did not insist that Stephen perform
the ritual mutilations, because it would require him to
betray the Order and its secrets. He simply ordered Stephen
to kill Mary Nichols and cut her up a bit. If Stephen had
completed the job properly, no other volunteers would have
been required. Gull would have given Stephen the names of
the other women one at a time. The Freemasons would never
have been implicated, if things had gone as planned."

Keiren reached for the bottle and poured himself another
drink. "The plan was absolutely brilliant. If the police
caught Stephen, no one in his or her right mind would have
believed his story. His family and circle of friends knew
Stephen was not sane after the head injury. The Judge would
convict and sentence him to hang and no one would be the
wiser as to Gull's involvement."

I began to clear the table. Placing the empty bag and burger
wrappers in the trash, I needed to move around a bit before
going on with the sordid tale. "The plan still worked
brilliantly. No one was ever caught or convicted, so Gull
and his Lodge brothers got away with murder and treason." I
walked toward the kitchen door, "Let's go into the living
room. My butt is tired from sitting in that hard chair. Both
of you have scrawnier asses than mine, I know you are
uncomfortable, too."

We moved into the front room. I sat in an armchair similar
to the one in my bedroom while Mulder and Keiren flanked the
arms of the sofa like mismatched bookends.

"Go on, Walter; I know this is an awful story but the
details are crucial to Keiren's investigation." Mulder
propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and cradled his
chin in his palm, "Tell us the rest."

I kicked off my shoes and crossed my ankles on the coffee
table. Wiggling my toes happily, I considered removing my
socks, too. I settled for loosening my tie and opening the
top two buttons of my shirt. Finally, I began to speak
again. "This mistake had an unexpected effect on the
Whitechapel community. All of London read about the lurid
rape and murder in the daily papers. Pressure from the
public as well as the Police Commissioner heightened the
intensity of the investigation led by Inspectors Edward Reid
and George Abberline."

"Kidney insisted that Stephen be replaced as their
'instrument of torture to the flesh' and immediately
recruited several lesser ranking brothers from the Order to
carry out the remaining murders. Secrecy was of the utmost
importance. No one would know the identities of the other
conspirators except Kidney. He contacted each man
twenty-four hours prior to his assignment, providing the
name and description of the intended victim and her most
likely whereabouts. Doctor Gull provided instructions
detailing the mutilations. After reading and memorizing the
information in the presence of Michael Kidney, he burned the
paper to destroy any evidence."

"As summer gave way to autumn, Mary Ann Nichols, Annie
Chapman, Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddows suffered
excruciating and horrible deaths at the hands of the
Freemasons. Letters from self-professed Jack the Rippers to
the press and constabulary brought the police no closer to
catching the murderer."

During the course of their investigation, Reid and Abberline
uncovered several details of the conspiracy but could not
provide concrete evidence. They approached Police
Commissioner Sir Charles Warren with their suspicions.
Warren insisted the inspectors terminate this line of
investigation immediately."

Mulder stopped me, "Wasn't Sir Charles also a Freemason? He
had ample reason to discourage any further probing by the
police in this direction." He scrubbed his fingers through
his mass of dark hair, remembering something important, "As
a matter of fact, didn't Warren even go so far as to destroy
evidence? He washed away a chalk message written on a wall,
presumably left by the killer of Catherine Eddows, right?"

"Yes, Warren did exactly that. Two officers had time to
record the message in their notebooks, but no photographer
had the opportunity to take pictures."

Keiren added, "That is one of the first rules of the Masonic
Order. Protect your brother and cover his wrongdoings, if it
means perjuring or even incriminating yourself."  He gave me
a puzzled glance, "Didn't the message say something about
the Jews, Walter?"

"It spoke of Juwes with a U, Keiren. 'The Juwes are the men
That Will not be blamed for nothing'. Reed suspected the
killer meant to implicate the Freemasons involvement in the
murders. The Masonic Order steeped in antiquity, tells of
the construction of King Solomon's Temple. Jubela, Jubelo
and Jubelum were guards of the temple. The story goes that
the three ruffians murdered the Royal Architect, Hiram
Abiff. When King Solomon learned of their crime, the three
killers expressed great remorse and begged for death.
Jubela's execution involved having his throat cut across and
his tongue ripped out. The executioner slew Jubelo by
tearing open his left breast, his heart and vitals removed
and thrown over his shoulder. The final execution of Jubelum
was the most gruesome of all; his body severed into two
parts and burned to ashes."