‘That’s Dead Man’s Walk,’ he said. ‘There’s a reason the ceiling gets lower and the walls come in, Max. It’s because when a man – or a woman – knew that they were about to hang, they went fighting mad. They went berserk. The corridor getting smaller was a way to physically control the condemned.’

I could feel the welt around my neck throbbing with blood.

‘Where’s Dead Man’s Walk?’ I said.

‘You mean – where was it?’ he said. ‘Dead Man’s Walk was in Newgate Prison. But, Max – Newgate was razed to the ground more than one hundred years ago.’

30

‘Dead Man’s Walk was in Newgate Prison,’ I told Whitestone as I walked back to my car. ‘Don’t let Professor Hitchens leave. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

I put on the blues-and-twos for the short drive to 27 Savile Row, fully expecting to find MIR-1 feverish with excitement when I arrived. But they all looked up at me as if it was just the end of another long day. Whitestone. Edie. Billy Greene. Tara. And Professor Hitchens, who had an ancient map of London, coloured gold and black, spread out across four workstations.

Whitestone gave me a sad smile.

‘Looks like chump bait, Max,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

‘What’s chump bait?’ Tara said.

‘Chump bait is a false lead,’ I said. ‘Chump bait is deliberately sending an investigation in completely the wrong direction. But—’

‘Newgate Prison no longer exists,’ Hitchens said. ‘You have to get that into your head, Max. I have no idea where you were taken, but it couldn’t have been Newgate. This is Charles Booth’s map of London in 1899. It’s what they call a “poverty map” – it was originally drawn to show areas of chronic want in the city. Black indicates poverty, gold indicates wealth.’ His index finger tapped the centre of the map. ‘What does that say?’

I stared at the map. And there it was, between Smithfield meat market and St Paul’s Cathedral, right at the very heart of the city.

‘Newgate Gaol,’ I read.

‘That’s right. As you can see, Newgate Prison is clearly visible at the end of the nineteenth century. And now look at Booth’s poverty map of 1903, just four years later.’

He unfolded what looked like an identical black and gold map of London and spread it on top of the first.

‘No Newgate,’ I said.

Hitchens nodded.

‘Because Newgate was razed to the ground in 1902,’ he said. ‘The prison stood for nearly a thousand years, but it was completely demolished at the start of the twentieth century. The Central Criminal Court – the Old Bailey – was built on the site. It was a deeply symbolic gesture. One kind of British justice – medieval, brutal, retributive – was replaced at the start of the new century with another kind of British justice – modern, fair and just.’

‘So nothing of Newgate remains?’ Whitestone asked. ‘Nothing at all?’