They listened to the news on the way back to the Hill: a live announcement of the result of the Police Federation postal ballot. ‘The government had every opportunity to negotiate,’ said the voice of Commander Stephen Marcus, the leader of the strike campaign within the federation. ‘They still do. We do not take our duty lightly, and we will always be willing to return to the bargaining table. But the public should know that, even in the current situation, with disorder on the streets of London every night, this government have not seen fit to look to better conditions for police officers, nor for greater numbers of police officers, and put in place a cut in starting salary. They have seen fit to attempt to take operational control of police forces in London and have assigned them on occasion seemingly at random, without the knowledge and experience of professional police officers, leading to increased danger to the public and to the officers themselves. As such, unless the situation changes, our members have voted for, by a three to one majority, and will begin, in three days’ time, this coming Saturday, a series of twenty-four-hour strikes…’

‘Fuck a duck,’ said Quill.

*   *   *

They got back to the Hill and, between the four of them, carried the mirror into the Portakabin. ‘Not a lot in here to mess up if it, you know, activates,’ said Costain.

Ross tacked a card with Vincent’s name on it onto the Ops Board, in the Ripper victim category, with asterisks beside the line, indicating that he’d survived.

Sefton was very aware of the other three all looking urgently to him. He made sure he’d searched everywhere he could think of. He had a couple of leads. ‘I have to visit some antique shops,’ he said.

*   *   *

While Sefton was away, Quill got on the phone to Lofthouse and asked about her dream life. She felt she hadn’t been spied on, which was a relief. She was worried as to why he might ask, so Quill filled her in as far as he could. The news came through that all police leave was cancelled until the strike. There was news footage of last night’s, and to some extent this afternoon’s, riots in Fulham, Brixton and East Ham. There were rumours of isolated incidents in leafy suburbs like Chesham and Rickmansworth. Quill wondered how they were going to keep awake. Every time he thought about it he felt a terrible sense of violation and wondered exactly what memories of his the intruder had spied on, thought about Sarah’s privacy as well as his own. He saw the look on Ross’ face and realized they’d all be thinking the same thing. He went to the tea station and pulled out the big jar of coffee. ‘We are not,’ he said, ‘going to be giving this bastard the chance to have another look.’

*   *   *