‘What were the threats about?’ asked Ross.

‘They were quite vague. They just said they were watching me and that if I went too far out of line they’d punish me for it.’

‘So you wanted the scrying glass to try to find out who was doing it?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Your newspapers seem to do well enough without the use of this,’ said Quill, tapping the mirror. ‘Do I take it you’ve gone back to the old-fashioned sort of dodginess?’

‘The oldest sorts,’ said Vincent. ‘The power of money and the willingness of people to tell on each other. Now, I’ve told you all I know. Am I off the hook? Have you had your pound of flesh?’

A thought had occurred to Sefton. It was dangerous, but his team had taken on worse. ‘Mr Vincent,’ he said, ‘you may have gathered we’re specialists in this kind of thing. You’ve been very cooperative, but I’d like to ask one last favour. Would it be possible for you to lend us this mirror, to aid in our current investigation?’

Vincent raised his hands, relieved. ‘I would be delighted.’

*   *   *

They heaved the mirror back to the car in silence, all of them feeling as if they were handling a bomb, but, as Sefton was all too aware, also dealing with a different sense of terrible oppression. They got it into the boot, climbed into the car and closed the doors before they felt they could talk about it. Ross said it first. ‘Fuck,’ she said. ‘Someone is bugging our sodding dreams.’

‘They already know all we know,’ Costain said. He had a terrible look on his face and Sefton could only wonder what secrets of his own he had to lose. ‘And next time we sleep, they’ll know we’re on to them too.’

‘We need defences,’ said Quill, looking to Sefton. ‘We need them today.’

Sefton took out his phone and started searching. ‘I already have a few ideas,’ he said.

‘And I,’ said Costain, ‘need to text a man about a thing.’ He had started to do it before he’d finished the sentence.

*   *   *