The flaking sign had originally said CAR PARTS, but the second R had fallen off and had never been replaced. Behind a tall concrete wall tipped with shards of broken glass and curls of razor wire, hundreds of broken rusted cars rested one atop the other in precariously balanced towers. The wall surrounding the car yard was thick with peeling posters advertising long-past concerts, year-old “just released” albums and countless indy groups. Ads had been pasted over each other to create a thick multicolored layer, then covered again in graffiti. It was almost impossible to see the DANGER-KEEP OUT and NO TRESPASSING signs.

Palamedes pulled the car up to the curb about a block away from the heavily chained entrance and turned off the engine. Wrapping both arms over the top of the steering wheel, he leaned forward and carefully took in his surroundings.

Flamel had fallen asleep, and Sophie was lost in thoughts that occasionally turned her pupils silver. Josh pushed himself out of his seat and crouched on the floor behind the glass partition. “Is that where you’re taking us?” Josh asked, nodding toward the car yard.

“For the moment.” Palamedes’ teeth flashed in the gloomy interior of the car. “It might not look like much, but this is probably the safest place in London.”

Josh looked around. The redbrick houses on either side of the narrow road were dilapidated beyond repair, and the whole area was shabby and run-down. Most of the doors and windows had been boarded over, and some had even been bricked up. Every pane of glass was broken. The rusted hulk of a burnt-out car squatted on concrete blocks by the side of the road, and nothing moved on the streets. “I’m surprised this area hasn’t been redeveloped or anything.”

“It will be, eventually,” Palamedes said ruefully. “But the present owner is prepared to sit on the land and let it appreciate in value.”

“What will happen when he sells it?” Josh asked.

Palamedes grinned. “I’ll never sell it.” His thick right index finger moved, pointing straight ahead. “There used to be a car factory here, and there was full employment in these streets. When the factory closed in the 1970s, the houses began to empty as people died off or moved away looking for work. I started buying up the properties then.”

“How many do you own?” Josh asked, impressed.

“All of them for about a mile in every direction. A couple hundred houses.”

“A couple hundred! But that must have cost you a fortune.”

“I’ve lived on this earth since before the time of Arthur. I’ve made and lost several fortunes. My wealth is incalculable… the hardest part is hiding it from the taxman!”