Once Nightingale was sure that the roof was secure, he came over and I got up to meet him—after all, no one likes to get bollocked sitting down.

“Was that him?” asked Nightingale.

“That was the Faceless One,” I said. “Although I noticed he was wearing a mask.”

“It’s part of the spell,” said Nightingale. “Are you hurt?”

I checked. “Just bruises and twisted my knee.”

Nightingale pointed at the remains of the chimney stack. “Did you do that?”

“That was me. Didn’t work, though. He had sort of a force field thing going on.”

The police sirens reached the street outside and we heard the thump-thump of police officers slamming their car doors.

Nightingale turned to Caffrey. “Frank, you and your lads better pull back to the van,” he said. “We’ll join you once we’ve sorted out the locals.”

The paras loped off across the roofs toward the fire escape down to Duck Lane. I hoped that Simone and her sisters had been sensible enough to keep moving after they’d escaped.

“A full shield,” said Nightingale, returning to our earlier discussion.

“And he caught my fireball,” I said. “Did I mention that? Just plucked it out of the air.”

“This man has been trained by a master,” said Nightingale. “Have you any idea how many years it takes to practice at that level? The dedication and self-discipline he would have needed? You’ve just met one of the most dangerous men in the world.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “And you’re still alive. Now, that’s impressive.”

For a terrifying moment I thought he was going to hug me, but fortunately we both remembered we were English just in time. Still, it was a close call.

From deep inside the house we heard the distinctive rumble of police feet running up the stairs.

I pointed at the late Tiger-Boy. “What do I tell them about him?”

“You don’t know who shot him,” said Nightingale. “You thought it might have been a police sniper. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded. It’s always better to tell a half-truth than a half-lie. This is London, guv, we don’t have no paramilitary-style death squads here. “We need to talk about this,” I said. “Before we do anything else.”

“Yes,” said Nightingale grimly. “I believe we do.”

Nightingale strode over to the door and called down that he was in charge and that the roof was a crime scene and that unless they were members of Murder Team they had better stay clear if they knew what was good for them.