They stood there, panting.

‘This level must be the last one that’s, you know, real,’ said Costain.

‘I think everyone else got out,’ said Quill, ‘including Neil Gaiman.’

‘Neil Gaiman was down there?’ said Ross. ‘The writer?’

‘Yeah,’ said Quill. He looked around. He found a sign that said ‘private function’. He put it where the stairwell had been. ‘Nice guy.’

*   *   *

There was nobody in the bar upstairs either. Ross felt tremendous relief. ‘I think Terry Keel must have got everyone out,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he knew where the damage would stop.’

‘Hell of a lawsuit,’ said Quill, ‘collapse of reality.’

‘Shall we put out the call for him?’ asked Ross. She found she had to sit down, and dropped onto a bar stool. She looked at the floor and concentrated on the conversation. She sensed them all doing that, all willing each other to come up with the next useful sentence.

‘Complicated. Do you fancy lying to a court about the exact circumstances of him assaulting a police officer?’

‘Or his brother being assaulted by a police officer,’ said Costain.

‘You what?!’ said Sefton. Ross glanced up at him. He had a pent-up, angry look on his face.

‘I meant me,’ said Costain quickly, ‘I meant me thumping him, all right? I wasn’t thinking of—’

‘In the circumstances,’ said Quill quickly, stepping between them, ‘I think you were acting to protect yourself and your colleagues, Tony. And you, Kev … well, I don’t know what happened down there. Did you know that was going to happen?’

Sefton shook his head.

‘As your superior officer, I’m not going to be calling any of that to anyone’s attention, not even Lofthouse’s, so the fault’s now mine, all right?’

Sefton remained silent.

‘So, no, I don’t think we should send the hue and cry after him. The other reason is that he still doesn’t know who me and Ross are, and he might well assume that you two died down there, and – unless his brother somehow got the word to him before he copped it – he still doesn’t know anyone there was a police officer. He could just go back to his normal routine. We know where to find him. We know he’s a good source of juice and we might need him later. Let’s not give him a reason to run.’ He moved a touch unsteadily towards the door. ‘Now, given all that’s happened, may I suggest a pint or two on the way home? Only not here, eh?’

*   *   *

Outside, breathing deeply of an evening that was still light, with curious passers-by looking at their charred clothes and obvious injuries, Ross felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Costain looking seriously at her, holding her back a little distance from the other two.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘listen—’

‘It’s okay.’

‘What?’

‘I know what you’re going to say. I saved your life—’