Eliza reached for the N folder. ‘She became a poltergeist, too, and took up residence in Farringdon tube station. She’ll be frantic when she realises her killer is on the loose.’

‘She was “on the loose” before, wasn’t she?’

‘She was around, but poltergeists don’t usually become violent unless they’re disturbed. If you do disturb one, they tend to start visiting places that were important to them in life. Almost like they’ve been reminded that they’re dead.’

Before we could consider the matter any further, Jaxon blazed back down the stairs.

‘Paige, get me my pen. On the desk.’

Mild trepidation jolted in my stomach. There were at least eight pens on his desk.

Slowly, I stood. This had to be punishment for my little rebellion. Or was it a test of my clairvoyance? Was I supposed to know which pen he wanted? Shit. I made a snap decision and handed him a jewel-encrusted fountain pen, which I had seen him use before.

‘No. That,’ he said, ‘is my writing pen.’

Writing pen. Shit, shit. Was there any other use for a pen? Sweating, I offered a slightly cheaper-looking one. He shot me an indecipherable look before he took it.

‘First, we must deal with Didion. His incompetence is now a danger to us all,’ he said. ‘By creating a rogue poltergeist, he has broken syndicate law.’

It still amused me that criminals had laws. The clairvoyant syndicate flouted Scion law merely by existing, yet had its own justice system. Not a very effective one, but it was there.

‘Jax,’ Eliza said, ‘maybe we should just stay out of—’

‘No. We will hold Didion accountable for his misdeeds. You will go straight to Cheapside and order him to shut down that travesty of a business. And you will tell him to leave – yes, to leave this citadel once and for all, the ham-handed buffoon. He has forfeited his right to a place in this syndicate, and as such—’

‘We have no authority to exile Didion, and you know it,’ Nick said calmly. ‘We’d have to get Hector involved.’

The reminder deflated Jaxon somewhat, but his eyes were still alive with ambition.

‘Of course.’ He lit another cigarillo. ‘Much as I dislike it, you are right. We would have to involve Hector.’ Slowly, he sank into his chair. ‘But . . . there is another option.’

I didn’t know enough about the politics of the underworld to intervene, but I listened. If I meant to have a clue what anyone was talking about, I would have to soak up everything I heard.

Jaxon drew an old-fashioned phone across his desk. Scion was thought to listen in to most communication; this had to be a secure line. He dialled and raised the receiver to his ear.