‘Of course we are. Logically, he must have been involved in the first crime, and it beggars belief that we won’t have him for it in the end. When we’ve got enough evidence we’ll rearrest him, and he’ll eventually give us his accomplices. End of.’ With an ironic glance at Lofthouse that looked to be about Quill’s bizarre querying of that certainty, he was off.

‘To be expected,’ said Lofthouse, reassuringly.

‘Yeah,’ said Quill. ‘He has someone he fancies for it. I’d probably see it like that myself. Let’s check out the security camera footage, shall we?’

*   *   *

They had a few different angles to choose from this time. There was the young woman: white, late teens, five four, slim build, no visible identifying marks, long brown hair, here in a pony tail, dressed reasonably expensively and fashionably, sitting at her table. There came Rupert Rudlin, the victim, to talk to her. Standing up was the woman’s male companion: white, late thirties, five nine, large build, no visible identifying marks, balding, dark hair, off-the-peg suit, glancing at his watch, saying goodbye to her and heading off. They followed him across the bar and out of the door, shaking his head at door staff, pushing his way through against their urging him to stay inside, actually going out into the riot. Then light arrived in the corner of the frame and the shining figure in the shape of the Ripper leaped lightly into it. The assailant had landed on the table, causing the drinks and empties placed there to fly off, wounding the bystander as the witness had stated. The young woman had tried to aid the wounded man and been slammed up against the wall, where the assailant indeed held her for twenty seconds, as Rudlin got to his feet.

‘Look at how much silver gets spilled on that wall,’ said Sefton. ‘A bigger deposit than any we’ve seen.’

‘Spilling fuel,’ said Sefton, ‘like something’s going wrong.’

Rudlin had indeed gone to help and had been attacked as per witness statement. This was the first time Quill and his team had seen the Ripper at work. They watched the shining shape of a razor sweeping through the air, cutting and cutting. There was an unhinged rage to it, but also a terrible precision. There was a sudden hauling of the razor that made the victim scream silently on the footage like a slaughtered animal. Then the Ripper was bounding off and the young man had collapsed into a pile of his own bloody insides.

The woman had stayed put for a moment after the Ripper had dropped her, unharmed, then she’d hauled herself to her feet and run for the door. She also had got through the door staff, who were reacting to the violence now happening inside their establishment, and was gone into the night.