By tea time, they’d whittled the list of potential targets down to a much more manageable four. Three looked possible: two women with convictions for prostitution, and a tea-leaf reader from Tir Nan Og whose files referred to the high proportion of male clients among her clients.

“She’s way out in SX, though, pretty suburban. Really doesn’t seem the right district. You know, apart from Annie, these murders have all taken place in the right locations, more or less. Right districts, at the very least. None of these three would fit that pattern, but it’s the best we have. I’m going to run the semantics package on them to see what that does.”

“What?” Serrin hadn’t a clue to what command Geraint was planning to give the bewildering array of electronic hardware now.

“Francesca and I went back over the four murders and used a template system to compare everything we could find on the original Ripper killings. Fran did most of the work actually, bless her.” Serrin could sense her smile from where he was sitting, though she was facing the screens.

“We banged in all the known past history of the victims, place names, locations, all the incidental details. Then we compared it to other people with the same names in London. The four names came out as the likeliest possible targets by virtue of the factors we included in the analysis. They were all prostitutes, the districts they lived in and where they were killed were similar, and there were some odd curves thrown out. Like, the original Annie Chapman’s body was found in Hanbury Street, while Fran’s friend of the same name was found slain in her flat in Hanbury Court. part of a building of another name. That was weird.”

“It’s almost as if someone else did a similar comparison to choose the right victims.” Serrin was pondering what he’d just heard. “As if the women were selected by computer.”

“That occurred to me, too. If Transys is testing a personality chip with these killings, it wouldn’t be out of character for them at all. They’re famous for the meticulousness of their tests. But the one remaining problem is the Mary Kellys we’ll never be able to find.”

Francesca was bent over one of the multiple screen arrays, but she’d been listening. “The Squeeze download, such as it is, is a pure shambles. It’s almost impossible to keep tabs on people. There are five Mary Kellys there, but the data is all marked incomplete, too dated, too many unknowns. If they’re going to hit one of them, we’ll never be able to stop them.”

Serrin sat bolt upright. “But then, someone living in the Squeeze wouldn’t be the target! Think about it. Even if you had spies checking around in that place, it would be desperately hard to make sure your victim was in the right place at the right time, right?”

“He’s got something there,” Geraint conceded. “No one finds it easy to monitor what goes on in the Squeeze. After the genetic manipulation disaster that the corps tried when the Squeeze was first formed, the people there hate corporations of any stripe. A corporate spy would have a very short life span among them.”

“Don’t I know it,” Francesca sighed. “That’s why the data I’m getting from my British Industrial source is such drek. Even they can’t get more than fragmentary data, and they’re right on the spot.”

“So lets take a chance,” Geraint suggested. “Lets say that the difficulties inherent in the Squeeze mean they wouldn’t select a target there. That leaves us our two hookers and the tea-leaf reader. They're the only realistic targets we have left since Rani called. The last two East Enders don’t fit at all. We take the top probability target, stake it out, and leave my security people with the other two.”

“The police?” Serrin offered the suggestion, but only as a matter of formality.

“Waste of time. They’ll consider it a wild goose chase. Frankly, London Security will handle it better.”

“We could kidnap the three of them, as it were. Place them under our protection somewhere. Bring them here” Again. Serrin was fishing for solutions.

“No way. We want to get the killers, and that means we need to use the targets as bait. It sounds bloody cold and callous, but I’m also thinking about the four women they’ve already killed. They deserve their murderers being brought to justice. With the security we can provide, the trap will be a deadly one unless they bring a coach-load of troll samurai and enough mages to light up the whole of St. Paul’s for a week.”

By ten-thirty they’d been able to select the most likely target after all the additional data had been downloaded and analyzed by Francesca’s program. Gemini closed down the screens one by one.

“Well, Abbey Wood it is. Mary Nicola Kelly. The telecom trick was a nice touch. Fran. Well done”

“I'm surprised it was so easy to sell her the idea that shed won a random lottery prize.”

“Oh, but the way you told her to gather family or friends around was brilliant. She was obviously delighted. but they’ll get a very different visit from the one they’re expecting. I think we should bring them some champagne.”

The telecom beeped, bringing the call that would change everything.

Paying off the last of her Fenchurch Street contacts. Rani had gotten luckier than she could ever have believed possible. With all the excitement of the last few days, and especially the visit to Wales, she’d almost forgotten about him, but there he was, ducking away into New London Street.

Of all people. Pershinkin.

She trailed him cautiously to the derelict house. A pair of orks emerged soon afterward, smiling and stuffing wads of money into their pockets. Another pair of dupes, huh? This time, my friend, she promised herself, it’s going to be very different.

He was alone, she was determined, and he didn’t hear her until she had her knife around his throat from behind, He was kneeling, just about to finish packing his case. and he made the cardinal mistake of having his back to the doorway.

By God, man, over-confidence is a real failing. Rani thought grimly. And one you’re going to pay for dearly.

“Hello, scumbag.” she said. You spammed my family. My rakking family, you wanker.”

Pershinkin froze as he felt the cold metal cutting into his skin, hardly daring to breathe while his eyes flashed from side to side trying to get a glimpse of the woman hissing death into his right ear.

“The run out to Cambridge, remember? Poor lmran? 'Just get some suckers,’ wasn’t it? Well, looks to me like you’re the sucker now. Prepare to die, sleazeball.” Revenge was sweet but Rani had already waited so long for this moment that she wanted him to beg for his life first.

He obliged her. “Look, I didn’t know! I didn’t know! It wasn’t me! It was the people who hired me, I’m only the man in the middle,” he whined. “You gotta believe me.” He was scared now, very scared indeed.

“Won’t do you any good, ratface. You’re going to die anyway. Better say your prayers.”

“No! Wait!” he whimpered. “Look, the men who gave me the Job. I’ve got a meeting with them tomorrow night. I swear it. It’s true, it’s true! If I tell you where we’re to meet, you can show up instead. Was them who hired your family to get killed. What have I got against you? Why would I harm you?”

She hadn’t expected that. “Tell me where and when, you stinking slime. Now!”

He was too afraid to negotiate, his wits too scrambled to realize he couldn’t just give it all away. He stammered out the place and the time of the meeting in a voice wracked with sobs.

Then Rani tightened her grip on the knot of straggly hair at the back of his head and drew the blade in an arc across his throat from ear to ear. She didn’t give herself time to regret what she was doing. When she finally released her hold, the body slumped forward onto the grimy floor like a heavy sack of laundry.