Peterson hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he’d be keeping a close eye on Knox. Unfortunately for this Watcher, no matter how well they might know London there was no way they could compete with Knox’s years of night-time wandering. He turned into Moor Street, heading towards Cambridge Circus, then quickly doubled back down Romilly Street, along the side of the Palace Theatre. He crossed over Shaftesbury Avenue and Gerrard Place before approaching Cambridge Circus again, this time from the south. He could see the trilby trying to push through the crowd that was still outside the Palace, discussing the performance they’d just seen of the new musical, The Sound of Music.

Knox decided to have a little fun at Peterson’s expense. He made his way round the circus slowly enough for the Watcher to spot him again before turning into the warren of streets that made up Seven Dials. Here he could really play with his tail, appearing at random down the narrow, cobbled lanes that, by a quirk of the city’s ancient beginnings, radiated from a single junction like the spokes of a wheel. The Watcher followed him into his trap and chased his shadows and echoing steps in circles for fifteen minutes before giving up in the hub of the Dials, refusing to be tempted down another alley.

Knox quit while he was ahead. He slipped away and headed south to Long Acre and through Covent Garden, before dropping down onto the Strand. Halfway along, he slipped through the side entrance to the Savoy Hotel, then back out through its gilded foyer to the line of taxis idling in front of its grand entrance. It was an old trick Williams had taught him for getting a cabbie to take you south of the river late at night. They never wanted the fare, but they knew if they refused it the hotel doormen would make sure they didn’t get any more.

Half an hour later, Knox was back in Deptford.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Abey Bennett loved London. But sometimes she also hated it. Like when the mark she’d been trailing realised he was being followed and gave her the slip.

If her surveillance of Knox had been approved she’d have had a whole team working with her, blanketing Soho so he couldn’t have gone anywhere without her knowing. But, as with so many times in her life, Bennett was working alone.

It was a skill she’d learned young. Too young.

Bennett’s mother was a member of the Kiowa tribe, who had once roamed all over Kansas and the surrounding states before their land was taken from them, and her father was a white man with a drinking problem who’d walked out on his family.