‘That seems to be about it. One was money, the other was law. They had met, but only at the times you might expect them to: cabinet meetings about security issues around the Olympics, official functions – that sort of thing. We’re sifting through the related correspondence between them, but so far it’s pretty anodyne. They share no schools, housing, jobs or friends outside government circles, at least not that we’ve been able to uncover yet.’

Lofthouse toyed with her charm bracelet for a moment, her fingers finding the key. That made Quill frown once again about what he wasn’t being told.

Chapter Four

FOUR

As Costain had driven to Whitechapel, he’d found himself changing channels on the radio a lot. He didn’t like what he was hearing.

‘If one of the biggest coppers in London isn’t safe, then who is?! They should bring in the army! ’Cos the police are shitting themselves!’

‘People are talking as if this is a copycat Jack the Ripper serial killer, but apart from one wrongly transcribed message and the nature of the attacks themselves … Listen, as a Ripper expert…’

‘When you think Jack the Ripper, you think fog and prostitutes, don’t you?’

‘The Jewish community … I can’t speak for a whole community, but “dismayed” would be the word. That someone who committed these unspeakable murders should seek to slander us in the process…’

‘Attacks on two synagogues in the East End, but we’re talking about a few youths daubing paint here; it might be part of the wider disturbances…’

‘True British nationalists say it’s time to stand up to these thugs that are on the streets looting every night, but the police are still obsessing over the content of one scrawled message, because it mentions ethnicity, rather than dealing with the death of their own most senior officer, rather than dealing with what’s in front of their noses, which is that they have lost control and people are demanding a better solution!’

‘Our protest has always been peaceful. We march against spending cuts and corruption, which have killed many more people than Jack the Ripper. We do not condone the murder of anyone. However…’

In the end, he plugged in his iPod to escape the news. He finally switched that off too, frustrated at having run away from what was real. As always now, he was wondering if that running away contributed to his own approaching damnation.

He parked in the first free space he saw in Whitechapel, put his logbook in the window to avoid getting a ticket and closed the car door gently, without slamming it. He would do anything to stay out of Hell. That thought went round his head so often it was like a mantra. He would do anything.

*   *   *