‘So you’re calling me to try and scare me,’ said Quill, ‘to remind me where I’ve been. I think you’re hoping I might tell someone, even just Sarah, what was written on the sign I saw over the gates of Hell.’ Silence. Had the breathing paused? ‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened, and I’m pretty sure that’s what you want me to do. That’s why my time never ran out in Hell, because you didn’t want me coming back here a gibbering wreck. Maybe you planted the document that set Ross off on her quest for the Bridge of Spikes. Let me walk you through it.’ He went down the stairs into the kitchen and started to make a cup of tea, the phone clamped to his ear, aware he was doing this to hold off with sheer domesticity the idea of who he was talking to. ‘Gaiman was working for you. He made sure Vincent killed me. But I wonder if he also made sure my notebook ended up in Sefton’s hands. He could have burned it, couldn’t he, or just kept it? But no, he disposed of it somewhere in London, so it fell into the Rat King’s clutches. Of course, he could have just left it at the scene of the crime, but then it wouldn’t have seemed so important, would it? It took Sefton such a lot of work to find it that it was obvious those ridiculous few words of mine must contain some major clue. That was what got Sefton and Ross to the long barrow, and opening that finished off Vincent. So why would you want to let Vincent nearly complete his plans, and then get rid of him?’ Quill watched the kettle boil. ‘I think you like chaos in London. So you liked what Vincent was doing, but not what he was planning for afterwards: all those jackboots, all that order. If anyone gets that done, you want it to be you. Am I right?’