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Chapters (37)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Epilogue
  35. Acknowledgements
  36. By Paul Cornell
  37. About the Author

‘We don’t know anything beyond the message, not yet. But it makes sense of the shape of the attacker. That Toff image of the protestors is also very like the archetypal image of the Ripper. And, thanks to the press—’

‘Ahem.’

‘Present company excepted. Thanks to them, everyone thinks the protestors have now started murdering people, though they can’t quite work out how. The original version of what’s become the Toff mask was, so the people at the factory tell us, part of their “Jolly King” costume. That costume company have gone from employing a publicity person for the first time, and neither condoning nor condemning the protestors, to slamming the doors and hiding behind press releases.’

‘Royalty? Like in some of the mad Ripper theories? Could that be a thing? One of your lot will have said that, right?’

Quill loved it when she deduced something. She didn’t do analysis exactly in the way his team did, but like the news editor she was, always casting around for a lead. ‘Sefton. He’s been reading up on this stuff. Ross said that when she first got the Sight, she felt a certain gravity from the direction of Buckingham Palace. I bloody hope this Ripper business doesn’t take us there.’

‘Jack the Ripper. God, Quill, I wish I could have this story. Can I have this story?’

‘No. Because you and I have a deal—’

‘I know, I know: you all need to have someone you can talk to about this stuff. But, bloody hell, of all journalists, only I know that there’s a connection between these two incredibly high-profile murder cases. Only I know about the message on the wall. And I’m going to go back into my office this afternoon, and my editor’s going to ask how you are, and I’m going to say, “He’s fine, he expressed sympathy about the ongoing decline of the Enfield Leader and the redundancies that are bound to start happening soon—”’

‘Love—’

‘Fuck, I could string this story to the Mail or the Herald or something. I could make a fortune. They still give people who dob in for them serious money.’ She made grim eye contact with him again. ‘I’m only having you on. Really. No, I am.’