had started all around. Each day, the earthmovers came a little closer. The new town would spread out from its nexus at the shoreline of the Regent Canal. The first building, a shopping mall, was nearing completion. The site even had its own concrete plant; such was the quantity required to pave over so many acres of earth and landfill.
‘Meera, you were walking between the club and the road when you saw him, is that right?’ May was forced to shout above the roar of the industrial equipment as they approached.
‘See the tall spotlight, over there? I borrowed Dan’s fingerprint kit and came up here first thing this morning, before it started raining. I tried to lift prints from the pole but they were too badly damaged. He’d swung around and smudged them.’ She pointed to one of a dozen tall steel lampposts that kept the landscape illuminated at night.
The slippery mud made walking treacherous. May and Mangeshkar were forced to take Bryant’s arms to keep him upright.
‘I shouldn’t have worn Prada shoes,’ said May, watching as liquefied clay closed over his toe caps.
‘Not at your age, no,’ agreed Bryant. ‘You’ve always been a bit of a clotheshorse, haven’t you? Heaven knows how many people tramped across here on their way home after your scare, Meera.’
‘I wasn’t scared. The odd thing is I don’t think he meant to slash my arm. He sort of fell into me because I kicked him.’
‘You said he was wearing knives on his head. He’d already broken the law, albeit in a preposterous way.’
‘Yeah, but I was thinking… . It takes a certain type of mind to come up with antlers made out of knife blades. It was right here.’ She pointed to the chewed-up earth around the base of the anodised post.
‘Help me down,’ said May.
‘Ha!’ Bryant was triumphant. ‘It’s usually me who needs a hand down.’
‘I’ve only just recovered from an operation.’ May was indignant. ‘What’s that?’ He pointed to some matted strands of brown fur embedded in the mud. ‘Something from your stag-man?’
‘Probably hair from a passing rat,’ answered Bryant gloomily. ‘The canal system is besieged with them. They live off discarded chicken bones and grow to the size of Alsatians.’ He dug a small clear plastic bag from his overcoat pocket and passed it to his partner before creeping off in search of footprints.
The wind was sweeping across the great churned field, thumping against pallets and stacks of steel plate. Meera squinted at the dark tumble of the sky. ‘There’s something weird about this place,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t like it here.’
Bryant was interested. ‘Oh, why not?’
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t look right. Too bare.’
‘You don’t have the comfort of surrounding buildings. That’s because we’re on a hill. You don’t notice the gradient as you walk here. King’s Cross has a strange and convoluted history. There are spirits, of course—there always are near water and the poor. But there’s something else besides.’ He sniffed noisily. ‘An unrest. A disquietude. Even on a day of clear skies there’s something turbulent here that comes up through the soil. You can smell it in the stormy air, can’t you?’
Meera found herself nodding in agreement, against her better judgement. She gave an involuntary shiver.
Bryant patted her arm in understanding. ‘Someone just walked over your grave. I’ll have to tell you all about the area sometime and I guarantee you’ll feel even stranger. Every act of kindness or violence, every deed of benevolence or cruelty, leaves its mark on the land. Those marks resurface in tiny tremors. And the ground here holds a great many dark secrets.’ A sheet of corrugated metal blew over, making Meera jump. Bryant smiled suddenly. ‘I wonder, can you get Dan Banbury up here? We could use his plastic-mould kit for this—look.’ He pointed to a pair of semi-circular shapes embedded deeply in the mud. ‘They look like hoofprints to me.’
‘They’re very big.’
‘Presumably they had to be large enough to fit over regular shoes, like pattens. This gentleman took his outfit seriously. There are a couple of costume shops near here. You’d better check them out.’
‘Are you going to explain why you’re so interested?’ asked May.
Bryant cupped his hands, blew into them and thought for a moment. ‘No, I’m not. Let’s see your freezer body now.’
‘We can’t,’ said May. ‘It went to the Upper Street Morgue, which is under Islington’s jurisdiction.’
‘You’re telling me we can’t get at it?’ Bryant’s watery blue eyes widened in surprise.
‘Ah, you finally understand! No, Arthur, we’re