London was tense, waiting, as they walked up those steps once more. The summer air was still and warm. It took Ross a moment to figure out what had changed. The lights in all directions were now dulled by a fine veil of smoke.
They took up positions around the exit that someone in Challoner’s seat would most likely use, and they waited as they heard final applause roaring from inside the building, and then that sound turn quickly into the noise of people moving, of doors banging open. ‘They’ve made their gesture,’ said Costain, ‘now it’s a race to try and find a taxi.’
Sure enough, very soon the first people started marching out of the exit past them. They checked out every male face, mentally comparing them to Challoner. Then-
Positive ID. There he was, walking quickly along, his arms stiff by his sides, looking all around. He looked scared and puzzled but, based on previous experience, Ross got the feeling that was how he always looked. She made eye contact with the other two, and they converged. Sefton got in front of Challoner, while Costain slapped a hand onto his shoulder. Challoner halted, and the crowd flowed around them, more and more of them every moment. It was going to be difficult for him to do a runner.
‘Who are you?’ He looked between them as if he was instantly guilty. Then his gaze locked on Ross and Costain as he recognized them.
Costain flashed his warrant card. ‘Police officers. Come with us, please, sir.’
He did, but only a few paces, out of the way of the crowd. He kept looking back over his shoulder. ‘Please, in there-’
‘What are you afraid of?’ asked Costain.
Challoner looked round again. ‘They put the masks on right at the end. I think it’s a protest.’
Ross heard murmurs and exclamations from further up the steps. She spun to look. There they were. Out of every door of the Albert Hall was bursting a horde of Toffs in masks, with placards and banners. The rest of the crowd were drawing back from them, afraid. There came more and more of them. An army of them. They filled the space at the top of the steps and then started marching down them, towards the group around Challoner.
‘That was organized using something other than Twitter,’ said Sefton. Either Vincent had decided not to alert them in the same way, or the demonstrators had known that the substitute security forces in London tonight would be keeping an eye on social media.
Ross turned quickly to Challoner, knowing they had no time for subtlety now. ‘We know about Russell Vincent-’
‘What?’ Challoner was now looking seriously afraid. He didn’t know whether to be more scared of them or of the Toffs.
‘We know everything, sunshine!’ Costain grabbed him by the lapels and roared into his face. ‘We know why you’re worried about that lot! He uses them as cover, doesn’t he? Do you know how many of his employees he’s killed?’
‘I–I don’t know what you’re-’
‘You just happened to be in that bar, just happened to be chatting to Mary Arthur — yeah, we know about her too! We know she was meant to be the Ripper’s target.’
‘We know you go to the auctions,’ said Ross, ‘as a proxy for Vincent. You’ve seen us there too. We’re the coppers who know about the terrifying shit of London. We’re your only chance.’
‘You tell us fucking everything and you might get to walk away from this. You might get to live. Because is Vincent worth it?’ Costain had dropped his voice and was looking the man in the eye. ‘You have risked everything for him, offered your own body for him, and what do you get back in return? Just every day a sense of dread. You come and work with us, you know you’re on the right side, you will make a difference. It’ll be you that brings him down.’
He was talking so fast, improvising at high speed as the wave of Toffs approached them. Challoner was shaking his head. ‘We need to get away from here.’
‘How does he do it?’ shouted Costain. ‘How does Vincent send the Ripper?’
Challoner looked startled to hear the name. He looked over his shoulder again, and now they could all see it. The approaching crowd of Toffs were throwing long shadows down in front of them. They were being illuminated from behind, by an unearthly light.
The Ripper was among them.
Challoner made to struggle out of Costain’s grasp, but Costain held on. He must be on the Sighted spectrum. Perhaps that was why Vincent had chosen him. ‘Too late. Chicken run. You reckon he’s coming for us or for you? Tell us something we can use!’
‘He … he makes things happen in London!’ yelled Challoner. ‘He goes on social media, he has all these fake accounts! He uses the Toffs and the skinheads as cover! He starts a riot happening, and then he sends the Ripper to kill whoever he’s after, and then he can blame the Toffs for it! He needs to know roughly where his target is going to be-’
‘You assumed you’d be going to the Proms tonight with Vincent,’ said Sefton. ‘When he didn’t show up, you started to wonder why.’
‘Good little boy stayed in his seat,’ said Ross. ‘You brought Mary Arthur to that bar so that she could be attacked, didn’t you? You kept her there. And then you got out of there, because you knew what was coming!’
‘Yes, yes!’
‘How does it work?’ yelled Sefton. ‘What is the Ripper? How does he control it?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know!’ Challoner was squirming in Costain’s grip now. The light was getting closer.
‘You can see that, can’t you?!’ bellowed Costain. ‘Will you testify to anything we can get a jury to believe?’
‘Yes! Just, please-!’
Ross looked in the direction of the light again. One of the Toffs was emphasized to her by the Sight, was something extraordinary. It was coming slowly down the steps among the others, moving first to one side, then to another, looking right at the four of them, like a predator sizing up its quarry. She could see the mask clearly now, see the silver falling from its eyes like uncontrollable tears. Suddenly, the figure lurched towards them.
‘Run,’ said Costain.
They sprinted sideways, out of the flow of the crowd down the steps, around the curve of the hall, hauling Challoner along between them. They were aiming for the van parked nearby. Costain was planning to take the wheel, and they would see if the Ripper could match their speed along the empty streets.
But the light was already flaring around the corner of the building. Something shot over their heads.
The Ripper was on them.
It sliced the air with a razor that seemed to cause the air itself to scream and part, like lightning. The first blow cut Costain’s jacket, and he let Challoner go. The man made to sprint away, back into the fringes of the crowd, but before Ross could even shout, the Ripper had spun, leaped up, and come down on Challoner like a cloaked bird of prey as his victim looked up and screamed.
They all started forward, but the flashing of the razor pumped faster than the eye could follow and blood burst from Challoner’s torso and throat.
That was the end of their lead, of their hope, of the little man’s life of service.
The crowd parted, yelling and screaming, leaving a clearing into which the body fell. There stood the Ripper. It turned to face Ross and the others.
Was that it? Was that all it was here for? Challoner had been a loose end to tidy up, a thread that could lead back to Vincent. But what about them? Had Vincent tried to access their dreams, never found them asleep, and started to wonder if they’d guessed his secret? Was the Ripper actually him or someone, something, he’d hired or created? The shape of the body didn’t look right for Vincent, if that meant anything. If he was in communication with, or actually was, this assassin, he’d just realized that they’d found Challoner, that they were that close to Vincent himself.
The Ripper took one decisive step towards them. Then another. It seemed to be hesitating. Ross could see the silver pouring down its face now.