‘I’m playing devil’s advocate here,’ Singh started cautiously. As ever, he was being tactful rather than refuting Vale’s theory outright. ‘But I ask you, what are the odds of someone taking control of London’s underworld without the police hearing a single rumour of the fact? A smaller city, perhaps – but London?’

‘I don’t think this person controls all of London yet,’ Vale replied. ‘All the more reason for us to stop them before they take it entirely. The police may not have heard these rumours, but the criminal underworld certainly has. Earlier this afternoon I spoke with Claribelle Houndston. She confirmed that “the Professor” was negotiating a contract with her to assassinate myself and Strongrock. Before that I was visiting “friends” in the London Underground, and I found letters signed by the Professor in Mr Dawkins’ own private desk.’

Singh pursed his lips in a whistle. ‘If he’s got Dawkins in his pocket, then he has the rest of the werewolves too. They follow orders down there, or they get their throats ripped out.’

‘Quite. As for the high finance sector, Wilkinson the banker – who’s behind half the touts in Surrey – has been emptying his own bank accounts for two weeks now. He’s been paying out to an unknown creditor, and he’s not the only one. The Stepney counterfeiting ring, led by the Parr sisters, has recently doubled its output. Need I go on? Must I draw a diagram of all the threads which lead to this central antagonist?’ The very thought invigorated him. A challenge at this level, a mind of his own quality to duel against, an enemy worthy of his steel . . .

‘And you kept all these theories a secret until yesterday,’ Singh said flatly.

‘I wasn’t certain,’ Vale excused himself. ‘The separate pieces were in my hands, but I lacked definite connections and proof. These last few weeks I have been gathering the strands of a veritable cobweb, and they have either broken under my fingers or melted into the morning dew. I prefer to spin my web and then let you take all the flies at once, if you’ll excuse the metaphor. Besides, once we begin to move against our adversary, he or she will respond. For the moment our enemy thinks you are ignorant – and so you remain relatively safe.’ Singh hadn’t been included in Claribelle Houndston’s contract. Yet if their foe realized how useful Singh was to Vale, or even that he was Vale’s friend, then his life would be at risk.

Singh made a noise indicating his understanding, but also frustration. ‘By not telling me or anyone else, you’ve put us all at risk. And we still know nothing about this Professor – this person’s identity, hiding places, strengths and weaknesses . . .’

‘Or there could be yet another person behind them,’ Vale said softly. He recalled what Winters had said about her meeting with Lord Guantes. He’d mentioned the man behind the Professor . . .

‘One criminal mastermind at a time would be quite enough for me, thank you,’ Singh said. ‘Any thoughts about how we should take this forward?’

‘From my investigations among the werewolves, I found a total lack of personal communication with the Professor. All orders came through the post, or via newspaper agony columns.’

Singh understood. ‘Yes . . . any criminal might hide their identity in this way. But it could also mean he’s someone they already know, whom they could identify in person.’ Lord Guantes and his wife had been involved with London’s werewolves before, using them as minions.

Maintaining their cover, Vale plucked out a coin and slid it across the table to Singh – as if he were settling a bet on the horses. ‘Winters has gone to ground, together with her apprentice. Strongrock is absent. I intend to spend the rest of the night pursuing my investigations. I hope to have more information for you tomorrow. The more this Professor attempts to mobilize London against us, the more likely it is that a minion will become careless and can be arrested – and used against our antagonist.’

‘You’ve yet to explain why the Professor wants you and Strongrock dead,’ Singh said. ‘If you alone were a target, then I’d understand it as part of controlling London. If Strongrock alone were the target, it could be down to some private dispute between Fae and dragons, or perhaps connected to this treaty of theirs. And if you, Strongrock and Irene Winters were named on Claribelle’s contract, I could understand that too. It would make sense to dispose of all of you, for fear that surviving members of your group would come after the killer. But for it to be just you and Strongrock . . .’

‘Yes. Most curious.’ Winters had almost been caught in the submarine base attack with him – but she hadn’t been expected to be there. Yet leaving her alive made no sense to him. ‘Another loose end. I need more data. I have my sister looking into cerebral controllers and political intrigues, while you investigate the arson case – though be careful, Singh. If the Professor suspects that we know of our foe’s existence, we can expect no mercy.’

‘What I can give you is limited,’ Singh said. ‘If I were back home in Hyderabad – well, I have acquaintances there who could be of more assistance. But here – no. Your sister’s likely to be more use than I am when it comes to the inner circles of power.’

Vale nodded. Singh was one of the few people who knew that Columbine, Vale’s sister, was more than just a clerk in the Ministry offices. ‘She dislikes involving herself in active investigations, but given the circumstances . . .’

‘If this criminal mastermind of yours didn’t want her attention, then he shouldn’t have gone to these extremes.’

Vale frowned at the newspaper. For various reasons, he’d avoided bringing his sister into the side of his life that included Winters and Strongrock. His sister’s primary concern was the safety of the British Empire. Although she preferred not to exert herself too much, or miss any meals, she still took her duties seriously. If Fae, dragons and the Library interfered with her Empire, London being its capital, she wouldn’t spare any of them. Also, he couldn’t protect her. She was well aware of these issues, as was Vale. So without either of them saying a single word, he’d known he should refrain from drawing his sister into certain exploits, for both of their sakes.

However, he no longer had a choice.

‘What would you like me to do next?’ Singh asked quietly.

‘Keep a watchful eye for signs of the Professor’s influence,’ Vale directed. ‘If Madame Sterrington is apprehended, I’d appreciate it if she didn’t suffer any mysterious accidents. Either in the cells or, as they say, while trying to escape.’

Singh would clearly have liked to refute that insinuation as a slander against the police, but he chewed his moustache and nodded. ‘And you?’

‘Send any messages to me via my sister. My lodgings are unsafe at present; I’ve already discovered some dynamite wired up in my cellar.’

‘And did you trouble yourself to inform the police?’ Singh asked rhetorically.

Vale shrugged. ‘I couldn’t be sure it was connected to this case. You know the company I keep, Singh. A fair number of my “acquaintances” would leave dynamite, if they thought they could get away with it.’

‘We’re working on a different scale entirely here, if you’re right.’ The if hung in the air between them. ‘Get me some evidence, Vale. This can’t go on.’