Saul and King Rat stood behind a cafe on the corner of HighHolborn and Kingsway. Away in the east was the forest of skyscraperswhere so much money was made. A huge squat building stood beforethem, a financial Gormenghast, a hulk of steel and concrete whichseemed to exude like a growth from the buildings around it. It wasimpossible to define where it began and ended.

Away in Ladbroke Grove, Pete peered over Natasha’s shoulder. Sheindicated the tiny grey screen on her keyboard as the beats cascadedout of the speakers. She was tweaking the treble, playing withsounds. Pete’s pale eyes flitted from screen to speaker to flute.

Fabian emerged from Willesden police station, cursing withdisbelief. He slipped into patois, into American slang, intoprofanities.

‘Bambaclaht motherfucker shithead blabddaht whitebread pigchickenshit piss-artist fuckers’

He wrestled with his jacket and stormed towards the tube station.The police had arrived to pick him up without warning, had not lethim take his bike.

He still muttered obscenities in his rage. He flounced up the hillto the underground.

Kay stood under Natasha’s window, wondering what she had done toher music, where she’d got the flute sound from.

‘I don’t think he knows anything, sir,’ said Herrin.

Crowley nodded in vague agreement. He was not listening. Where areyou, Saul? he thought.

Who’s the Ratcatcher? Saul wondered. What wants to kill me? ButKing Rat had mooched into melancholia after he had mentioned thename, and would say nothing more. Time enough for that, he had said.I don’t want to scare you.

King Rat and Saul saw the sun turn red over the Thames. Saul foundhimself scrambling without fear up the vast wires of the CharingCross railway bridge, looking out over the river. He hugged themetal. Trains wriggled below like illuminated worms.

South, and they careered secretly through Brixton, bore west forWimbledon.

King Rat told more and more stories about the city as they passed.His assertions were wild and poetic, unreal, senseless. His tone wasas casual as a cabby’s.

The tour seemed to end quite suddenly, and they wound back towardsBattersea. Saul was exhilarated. His body throbbed with exhaustionand power. The city’s mine, he thought. He felt headstrong andintoxicated.

They came to a manhole in a deserted car park and King Rat stoodaside. Saul wiped the dust from the metal disc. He fumbled with it,pushed his fingers around it. He felt strong. His muscles were tautfrom the continual effort of the day, and he rubbed them in a motionthat would have been narcissistic were it not for his obviousamazement. He twisted at the metal, felt his pores open with sweatand dirt then clog them, invigorating him.

The cover squealed momentarily and burst from its housing.

Saul barked in triumph and ducked into the darkness.

The music coming from Natasha’s window was by Hydro, Fabianrealized. He had calmed somewhat in the time it had taken for him toreach Ladbroke Grove. The sky boiled in time to the beats.

He hammered on the door. Natasha came to him, opening the door,her small grin frozen by his scowl.

‘Tash, man, you ain’t going to fucking believe it. Just keepsgetting weirder.’

She stood aside for him. As he came up the stairs he heard Kay’slaconic assertions.

‘… go down there once or twice a month, you know, and all Goldieand shit and them come there sometimes… Hey, Fabian, whassupman?’

Kay sat on the edge of the bed and peered up at him. Pete satsomewhat stiffly in a chair brought in from the kitchen.

Kay’s amiable face was devoid of concern, blind to Fabian’s mood.He sat with the same vague, open smile while Natasha caught up andentered the room.

Pete was clearly uncomfortable, but he sat with his eyesunblinking on Fabian until Natasha arrived.

Fabian paused before speaking.

‘I just spent the afternoon with the fucking pigs dem. They beengiving me serious shit for nuff time, all fucking day, "What can youtell us about Saul?" I told the motherfuckers time and fucking again,I don’t knows^z’r.’

Natasha sat cross-legged on the mattress.

‘They still think Saul did in his dad?’

Fabian laughed theatrically.

‘Oh, Tash, man, no no no, not any more, that’s nothing, that’s theleast of anyone’s worries.’ He sucked his teeth and pulled abattered newspaper out of his bag, waved it in front of them. Thestory was thumbed, the ink smeared. ‘You won’t get much fromthat,’ he said as they tracked it with their eyes. ‘Only the barebones. Lemme give you the real deal.’

‘Saul’s gone. He escaped.’

Fabian laughed unpleasantly at Kay’s and Natasha’s dumbfoundedexpressions. He pre-empted their exclamations.

‘Not yet, man, there’s more. Two police got killed at Saul’s dad’sflat, smashed up bad. And it looks… they reckon Saul did it.They’re fucking bananas to find him. They’ll come for you all, yourturn soon. With all the fucking questions.’

No one spoke.

The strains of Hydro were alone in filling the room.

King Rat was gone.

Saul brooded. He felt gorged on the supernatural and surreal.

He was crouched behind King Rat’s throne. He had lain down thereafter the epic journey around London, sated and exhausted. That nighthe had oozed in and out of sleep and when he awoke, King Rat hadgone.

Saul had risen and meandered around the room. He listened to thesound of dripping and distant howls.

King Rat had pinned a grubby piece of paper to the throne.

back soon, it said. stay put.

Alone, Saul felt unreal.

It was difficult to believe that he existed independently of KingRat, that King Rat was not a figment of his imagination, or Saul ofhis. Saul felt the stirrings of panic.

Alone, he was suddenly sick of King Rat’s evasion. What was theRatcatcher? he wanted to know. King Rat would not say. Their runacross the city had been largely silent. With King Rat by his side,Saul had acquiesced, was complicit in the cover-up; he had been busylistening to the rat in him wake up.

But alone, he realized that it had been a long time since he hadthought of his father’s death. That he had been remiss in hismourning. His father’s death was the fulcrum. Understand that and hewould know what wanted to kill him, he would know why the rats wouldnot obey their king.

With King Rat by his side, Saul had seen a new city. The map ofLondon had been ripped up and redrawn according to King Rat’scriteria. Alone, Saul was suddenly afraid that the city no longerexisted.

Stay put? he thought. Fuck that.

Saul climbed out of the room and into the sewer.

Wind swept through the tunnels. Saul stood perfectly still andlistened. He could not hear King Rat anywhere. He replaced the doorto the hidden exit and moved gingerly away.

As he left the side tunnel which concealed the ways in and out ofthe throne-room, the strong smell of King Rat’s piss dissipated.Three rats hovered outside the tunnel, moving nervously, regardinghim. He was unafraid but uncertain. He stopped and watched.

One of the three scampered forward a little and shook its head ina shockingly human motion. Saul took off through the sewers,trembling with trepidation. Alone, the sewer was a different worldfrom the one that King Rat had shown him, but Saul was not afraid. Hewalked through an olfactory patchwork, and the smells of piss toldhim stories. The rat who pissed here was aggressive and quick toanger; the one who pissed here was a follower; the one here ate toomuch, and his favourite food was chicken.

Saul could feel the city above him. He felt lines and directionspull at him. He followed the geomantic tugging.

From behind him, Saul heard a pattering. He turned, and in thegrey non-light he saw three rats following him. He stopped still andwatched them. They halted six feet from him and shifted, withouttaking their eyes from him. As he watched two more rats jumped from apipe that jutted into the tunnel, and joined their fellows.