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.Our hands were stained yellow,every crease filled with yellow dust, our hairreleased clouds of it.We shook ourself to tryand get free of it, wiped our hands on ourclothes, brushed down every inch of ouroveralls, until a small pile of dust had fallenat our feet.Our eyes burnt, every breathburnt, and there were footsteps behind usand I heard Prince say, Don t waste any. Then someone shoved us aside, and aman in overalls and a mask was on his handsand knees and, God help us, he was vacuum-ing the dust from the floor, sucking it up likeso much lint off a dirty carpet, into a smallclear plastic bag with a nozzle attached,business-like and effective, and we grabbedhim by the throat and screamed, Don ttouch her! Don t touch her don t touch herdon t you fucking touch her! 197/1048I heard a sharp click behind my head.Itwas the sound of the safety coming off a pis-tol.Our eyes were blazing, our vision tingedsapphire blue, we could hear our heartpounding in our ears.I forced our handsaway from the man s throat, forced ourself tostand, fingers open at our side, forced ourselfto turn and look Prince in the eye.The pistolhe held was customised silver with an ivoryhandle, but that didn t mean it wouldn t firelike any regular weapon for any regular man.He said, Who are you? I looked down at the floor.Dust was stilldrifting in the air around me.People in over-alls were already getting to work in Meera splastic cave; I could hear the sound of mo-tors whirring, fans turning.Calmly, theywere harvesting the dust.We looked up and met Prince s eye;briefly, he flinched.I said, dull-voiced, Iwould like to use your bathroom now. What? 198/1048 I would like to wash my hands. He hesitated.Then snapped at the tech-nician whose throat was still marked redfrom our fingers, Swab him. The man edged forward.Prince movedround to keep the gun still level at our head.From inside his deep blue pockets, the manpulled out a small plastic envelope contain-ing white, slightly damp tissues.He took ourunresisting hands by the wrist and cleanedoff every last speck of dust, from between ourfingers and the creases in our palms, sealingup his stained swipes in little plastic bags.When he was gone Prince said, I askedyou who you are. Sinclair, I murmured. My name isDudley Sinclair. No, it isn t. It is. I asked.I made a call.Sinclair is a ghost,a legend, a power behind the throne but youknow what he is most of all? He s not the 199/1048kind of man who gets involved.So who areyou? Friend of a friend. You knew the woman? he asked, ges-turing towards Meera s cell. No, I replied, keeping my eyes lockedon some point far, far away. But she calledfor help.She was dying. She was a fairy.Of course she wasdying. Yes, I said, voice dead flat. You next. For answer, he moved the gun a fewinches closer.We didn t raise our voice, didn t shout orrage or scream. When the Midnight Mayorfinds out what has happened here he willhunt you down.You will try to run, of courseyou will, but it won t be enough.The stoneswill open up to consume you, the lights willdarken as you pass, rats, foxes and all livingthings will shun the places where you walk,shadows will cringe back into the hidden 200/1048places of the alley, the air that you breathewill turn to blackened soot and all the worldwill know that you are marked.There isnothing you can do to stop this.This is howit will be. He was not a man who scared easily.Then, this wasn t easy fear. I should kill you, he stammered. What s the point? I asked. Won tchange what s coming. Get out, he hissed, gesturing towardsthe door. Go back to the Aldermen.Tellthem if your Midnight Mayor comes, I ll killhim.I don t fucking care, I ll kill him. No, Mr Prince.You won t even knowhe s there. They threw us out, and locked the doorbehind us.As if that would be enough.Templeman was waiting.He was leaning on the bonnet of a blackhybrid car parked illegally in front of a shop 201/1048offering Adult Entertainment and the latestin PVC fashion for the connoisseur.It wasdrizzling, the gentle, senseless Londondrizzle that soaked right through without an-nouncing that you were getting wet.The pi-geons still sat overhead, watching.He asked me, Did you find what youwere looking for? We didn t answer, but paused by the carto scan the street around us.Eventually wefound what we were looking for: a ridgedmetal panel set into the pavement
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