‘It does sound like the sort of thing those who laid down the law in past centuries might do: protect the centres of power from occult dodginess.’ They’d gone out again and walked around the boundaries of the old buildings, Quill finding that the force field or whatever it was approximated to the walls in some places but not in others. The modern additions weren’t covered. Everyone inside was lucky in ways that the vast majority of them didn’t appreciate. He noted that this wasn’t something that Lofthouse had known previously. When she said she knew less than they did, she seemed to be telling the truth. So why couldn’t she tell them what she did know?

Finally, they’d had to head in again because it was time for their appointment. ‘You’re trying to get a meeting with Vincent?’ asked Lofthouse now.

‘I have a call in with him, as they say. He’s obviously had an encounter with something from the Sighted world and, given that our suspect is the only thing we’ve seen so far that splatters, maybe even the Ripper himself. And Vincent radiates dodgy. The number on those business cards turned out to be just his PA, but that’s closer than most people get.’

‘Last time a fully armed parliamentary inquiry went after him he came up smelling of roses. Tread very gently.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Did you find the taxi that picked up the male witness from the bar?’

‘We did, but unfortunately he paid in cash, so we’ve just got a few extra lines of description from the foggy recall of a taxi driver. He bloody got out near Tottenham Court Road too, right in the middle of town, and we lose him on camera somewhere in the shops. So no indication of home address.’

‘And you’re pursuing Gaiman?’

‘He’s one of only two survivors from the Goat and Compasses that we can definitely find. He’s still in London, and in the face of a call from the Met, his agent was fulsomely cooperative, so our oomph is still respected in some quarters. Ross and Sefton, who insisted on getting right back on the horse, are interviewing him this afternoon.’

‘The other survivor would be…?’

‘The surviving Keel brother, Terry, who we’ve left where he is. Sefton’s been keeping a watch on the shop, and the individuals who were regular clientele seem to be lying low. For the moment.’

A door ahead of them opened, and a pleasant-faced, neat young man stepped out of it. ‘Superintendent Lofthouse?’

*   *   *