So, waiting on the corner of Addley Pass, camouflaged by the chiaroscuro of full moon through the clouds and the shadows of the trees in Billy Green, were only Isaac, Derkhan and Lemuel.

All three were shifting uneasily, looking up at passing shades, starting at imagined noises. From the streets around them there came intermittent sounds of horrendously disturbed sleep. At each savage moan or ululation, the three would catch each other’s eyes.

“Godsdamnit,” hissed Lemuel in irritation and fear. “What is going on?”

“There’s something in the air . . .” murmured Isaac, and his voice petered out as he stared blindly up.

To cap the tension, Derkhan and Lemuel, who had met the previous day, had quickly decided they despised each other. They did their best to ignore one another.

“How did you get the address?” asked Isaac, and Lemuel shucked his shoulders irritably.

“Connections, ’Zaac, contacts, and corruption. How d’you think? Dr. Barbile vacated her own rooms a couple of days ago and has since been seen at this less salubrious location. It’s only about three streets away from her old house, though. The woman has no imagination. Hey . . .” He batted Isaac’s arm and pointed across the gloomy street. “There’s our man.”

Opposite them, a vast figure tugged free of the shadows and lumbered towards them. He glowered at Isaac and Derkhan, before nodding at Lemuel in the most absurdly jaunty fashion.

“All right, Pigeon?” he said, too loud. “What we up to, then?”

“Voice down, man,” said Lemuel tersely. “What you carrying?”

The massive man pushed his finger across his lips to show he understood. He held open one side of his jacket, displaying two enormous flintlock pistols. Isaac started slightly at their size. Both he and Derkhan were armed, but neither with any such cannons. Lemuel nodded approvingly at the sight.

“Right. Probably won’t be needed, but . . . y’know. Right. Don’t talk.” The big man nodded. “Don’t hear either, right? You have no ears tonight.” The man nodded again. Lemuel turned to Isaac and Derkhan. “Listen. You know what you want to ask the geezer. Wherever possible, we’re just shadows. But we have reason to think the militia are interested in this, and that means we can’t fuck about. If she’s not forthcoming, we’re giving her a helpful push, right?”

“Is that gangsterese for torture?” hissed Isaac. Lemuel looked at him coldly.

“No. And don’t fucking preach at me: you’re paying for this. We don’t have time to arse around, so I’m not going to let her arse around. Any problems?” There was no answer. “Good. Wardock Street is down here to the right.”