Loplop knew that he would hear the snapping of threadlikefilaments as the roots of grass were pushed aside and juicy wormsgroped blindly into the light, towards his bill. He would hear therush of air as he felt himself swoop above the city, the come-hithercalls of the most beautiful birds of paradise.

And King Rat would once again hear the doors of the pantries inhell swinging open.

None of the three wanted to die. It was a mission which involvedcertain destruction for one. The sheer force of animalself-preservation seemed to preclude their willingness even to riskthe odds of one in three. There was to be no sentimentalself-sacrifice in this fight.

Saul was vaguely aware that he was a vital component in thisargument, that ultimately he was the weapon which would have to bedeployed. It did not yet frighten him, as he could not begin to takeit seriously.

Some days, Loplop and Anansi would disappear. Saul remained withKing Rat.

Every time he walked or climbed or ate, he felt stronger. He wouldlook down over London as he scaled the side of a gas tower and thinkHow did I get up here? with exhilaration. Their journeys acrossLondon became rarer, more sporadic. Saul was frustrated. He wasmoving faster and more quietly. He wanted to roam, to make his mark — literally, sometimes, as he had discovered the pleasure of pissinghis strong-smelling piss against walls and knowing that that cornerwas now his. His piss was changing, just like his voice.

King Rat was always there when Saul woke. After the initialexhilaration of a new existence at right angles to the world ofpeople he had left behind, Saul was disheartened by the speed withwhich his days blurred. Life as a rat was dull.

The individual moments still thrilled him with adrenaline, butthose moments no longer coalesced.

He knew King Rat was waiting. His ferocious whispered argumentswith his comrades became the focal point of Saul’s life. In gravellyhisses and fluting tones the three bickered furiously over whetherAnansi’s webs would hold the Piper, and how best to wrest his fluteaway from him, and whether spiders or birds would constitute bettercover. King Rat grew furious. He was alone; he could contribute notroops to any battle. The rats had snubbed him and ignored hiscommands.

Saul became quieter, learning more about the three creatures whoconstituted his circle.

He was alone on a roof, one night, sitting with his back to anair-conditioning vent, while King Rat scoured the alley below forfood, when Anansi crept over the side of the building before him.Saul was still in his shadows and Anansi looked straight at him for amoment, then cast his eyes around the roof.

I’m getting better at this, thought Saul, with idle pride. Even hecan’t see me now.

Anansi sneaked forward under dark red clouds which rolled aroundeach other, belching themselves into and out of existence. Theythreatened rain. Anansi squatted on the roof, stripped to the waist,as always, despite the cold. He reached into his pocket and drew outa glittering handful, a shifting mass of little buzzing bodies. Hesmeared the insects into his mouth.

Saul’s eyes widened in fascination, even as he grimaced. He wasnot surprised by what he saw. He thought he could hear the humming ofmother-of pearl wings obscured by Anansi’s cheeks, till those cheekstensed and he saw Anansi suck hard, not chewing, but pursing his lipsand working his mouth as if he sucked the juice from a biggobstopper.

There was the faintest of crunching sounds.

Anansi opened his mouth and poked out a tongue rolled into a tightU. He exhaled sharply, as if through a blowpipe, and a cascade ofchitin shot out across the roof, scattering near Saul’s feet; thedesiccated body parts of flies and woodlice and ants.

Saul rose to his feet and Anansi started a little, his eyeswidening momentarily.

‘Wha’appen, pickney,’ he said evenly, gazing at Saul. ‘The neversee you there. You a quiet lickle bwoy.’

Loplop was harder to surprise. He would appear suddenly frombehind chimney stacks and rubbish bins, ruffling his foppish coatbehind him. His passage was always invisible. Occasionally he wouldlook up and yell ‘Oy!’ into the firmament, and a pigeon, or a flockof starlings, or a thrush, would wheel suddenly out of the clouds,obeying his call, and perch nervously on his wrist.

He would peer at the bird, then briefly up at Saul or whoeverobserved him, and smile in satisfaction. He would glance back at thebird, imperious suddenly, and bark a command at it, upon which itwould seem to cringe and give obeisance, bobbing its head and bowing.And then Loplop would become a good and just king all of a sudden,with no time for such puerile displays of power, and he would murmurreassuringly to his subject, and jettison it, watching it disappearwith a look of noble benediction.

Saul believed that Loplop was still a little mad.

And King Rat, King Rat was the same: cantankerous and cockney andirritable and otherworldly.

Kay did not reappear with Natasha’s keys, and she was forced towake her downstairs neighbour, with whom she left a spare set.

It was just like Kay to meander off and forget that he had them,and she waited for him to call with his cheerful apology. He did notcall. After a couple of days she tried his number, and his flatmatessaid they had not seen him for ages. Natasha was heartily pissed off.After another couple of days she had a new set cut and resolved tocharge him when he re-emerged.

The police did seek her out. She was taken to the station andinterviewed by a quiet man named Crowley, who asked her several timesin several different ways if she had seen Saul since hisdisappearance. He asked her if she thought Saul capable of murder. Heasked her what she had thought of Saul’s father, whom she had nevermet, and what Saul thought of him. He asked her what Saul thought ofthe police. He asked what she thought of the police.

When they let her go she returned home seething, to discover anote on her door from Fabian, who was waiting for her in the pub. Shefetched him back to her house where they smoked a joint and, to thesound of Fabian’s abrupt giggles, composed a Jungle track on hersequencer using loads of samples from The Bill. They christened thesong Fuck You Mister Policeman Sir!.

Pete was coming around more and more. Natasha was waiting for himto make a move on her, something which seemed to happen with themajority of blokes she hung out with for any length of time. He didnot, which was a relief to her, as she was completely uninterestedand did not want to have to deal with his embarrassment.

He was listening to more and more Drum and Bass, was makingcomments that were more and more astute. She sampled his flute andwove it into her tunes. She liked the sound it made; there was abreath of the organic about it. Normally, for the main sounds at thetop end she would simply create something with her digital powers,but the soullessness those noises possessed, a quality she oftenrevelled in, was beginning to alienate her. She enjoyed the sounds ofhis flute, the tiny pauses for breath, the hint of vibration when sheslowed it down, the infinitesimal imperfections that were thehallmark of the human animal. She sent the bass to follow the flutetrack.

She was still experimenting, still laying plenty of tracks withouthim. After a time she focused her flute experimentation on one track.Sometimes they would play together, she snapping down a drum track, abass line, some interjections, and he would improvise over the top.She recorded these sessions for ideas, and a notion formed in hermind of how they could play together: a session of Jazz Jungle, thenewest and most controversial twist to the Drum and Bass canon.

But for now she concentrated on the track she had christened WindCity. She returned to it day on day, tweaking it, adding layers tothe low end, tickling the flute, looping it back on itself.