‘You won’t have much luck with that,’ said Vincent, getting to his feet. He went to the drinks cabinet, recovering his composure, and poured himself a whisky. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s not actually glass.’

Quill looked round for a window to throw the glass out of and realized that none of them opened. He looked back to Vincent. ‘I could just run off with it.’

Vincent produced a small black device from his jacket. ‘This is my panic button,’ he said. ‘If I press it, my security people seal the building and burst in here.’ He put down his whisky and checked his phone. ‘They’ve just asked me if I think your sergeant downstairs is really a police officer.’ He hit two keys and then the send button. ‘I’ve just told them no, I don’t think so – an entirely reasonable response, given this evening’s chaos. They’ll probably hold him until there’s someone at Gipsy Hill to verify his identity.’ He looked puzzled at Quill. ‘Where are the other two? They haven’t slept in several days. Are they on to me?’

‘They’re on their way over,’ lied Quill. He strode purposefully back over to Vincent and stopped when the billionaire held up the panic button, his finger poised. Quill was trying to control the fury he felt about what this man had done to him. He and Gaiman both. ‘Do you know why I came here?’ he asked.

‘To attack me or arrest me.’

‘To hear you tell me the truth.’

Vincent frowned and glanced at something under the level of his desk. ‘You’re not wearing a wire,’ he said. Quill walked over and saw what looked like a radio scanner. ‘I don’t think you’ve got any occult way of hiding that.’

Quill opened his borrowed jacket and displayed its interior to Vincent. ‘Nothing up my sleeve. Besides, even if we got a recorded confession, do you reckon something as surreal as this could ever make it to court?’

Vincent considered for a moment, taking a sip of his whisky. ‘What do you want to know?’

Quill had been sure the great communicator would want someone to share his story. Afterwards, he guessed, Vincent would just hit the panic button, have him locked up somewhere downstairs and then summon the Ripper. No loose ends, but Vincent couldn’t resist the chance to share.

‘How about: how did you first learn about the supernatural powers of London?’