“Why don’t you kiss my arse?” Callum snapped. “How about that for an idea?”

“How about you think of your friend’s welfare?”

Callum shifted the grip of his terminus.

“We came down to finish this,” Stephen said. “Just do it, Callum.”

“You kill me,” Newman said, “you kill him. Your choice.”

Callum glanced over at me.

“No surrender?” Newman asked politely. “Maybe you want to be in charge? Maybe that’s why you’re willing to let him die.”

“Callum!” Stephen said. “Rory! He’s right there! Do it.”

“No,” Newman said, pointing at Callum. “This one . . . I understand him completely. He won’t let go of that terminus, not for you. Not for anything. I understand. It makes you feel secure, doesn’t it? It gives you back your sanity. It gives you control. The sight is a curse, and the terminus is the only cure. I have sympathy for you. I do. That’s why I’m here. That’s all I want too.”

There was no sarcasm, no little smile. I think he meant it, every word of it.

“All of this,” Newman said. “The Ripper, this station . . . all of it was just my way of trying to draw out the squad. I developed a plan that brought you to a place I knew well. I always knew there’d be more of you than of me, more than I could fight off. So I developed a plan in which I could get what I needed and you could all just walk away. He doesn’t have a lot of time, Callum.”

Newman leaned against the ticket booth and considered us both. I realized that I was holding up my terminus as well, my fingers poised on the one and the nine. I had done it unconsciously. Callum and I were trapped, unable to move forward.