I didn’t have any cuffs or rope to secure him, so I settled for scrambling back up the stairs, ignoring the shooting pain in my knee as I went. Behind me Tiger-Boy wailed pathetically and, more important, stayed where he was. I ran through the roof door, ducked under a clumsy swing by Peggy, and slammed it shut behind me.

“I beg your pardon,” said Peggy. “I thought you were him.”

I looked at the three women. They were clutching one another for support and had the dazed unfocused look that people get after bombing incidents and motorway pileups.

I pointed to the north. “Climb over the railing, go that way across the roof,” I said. “Go to the right. There’s a fire escape down to Duck Lane.” I’d spotted it during my night of passion with Simone as a possible access point for burglars. Which proves, if nothing else, that a police constable is never off duty even when he’s not wearing his underpants.

They didn’t move—it was strange they were acting so slow and dull. As if they were drugged or distracted.

“Come on,” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Will you be quiet,” said Peggy. “We’re talking to someone.”

I turned around to find that an evil magician had been standing behind me.

Chapter 13 - Autumn Leaves

HE WAS standing at the far end of the roof garden leaning nonchalantly against the railing. He was dressed in a beautifully tailored dark suit and a pale silk cravat; he was carrying a cane topped with a mother-of-pearl handle. The witnesses had been right about his face. Even as I concentrated on his features, I found myself noticing the gleam of his gold cuff links, the scarlet triangle of his pocket handkerchief, anything except his face. This was him—the Faceless One.

“Oy,” I shouted. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Do you mind?” said Faceless. “I’m trying to talk to the ladies here.” His accent was generic posh, public school, Oxbridge—which fit the profile and endeared him to my proletarian soul not at all.

“Well, you can talk to me first,” I said. “Or you can go to the hospital.”

“On the other hand,” said Faceless. “You could just take a quick jump off the parapet.”

His tone was so reasonable that I actually took three steps toward the railing before I could stop myself. It was seducere, of course, the glamour, and it might have worked on me if I hadn’t spent the year having various demigods and nature spirits trying to mess with my mind. Nothing gives you mental toughness like having Lady Tyburn trying to make you her house slave. I kept heading for the railing, though, because there’s no point giving away an advantage and I was curious to know what he wanted from Simone and her sisters.