He could hear sounds from all over London, a murmuring. And as helistened, it resolved itself into its components, cars and argumentsand music. He felt as if the music was everywhere, all around him, ahundred different rhythms in counterpoint, a tapestry being wovenunderneath him. The towers of the city were needles, and they caughtat the threads of music and wound them together, tightened themaround Saul. He was a still point, a peg, a hook on which to wind themusic. It grew louder and louder, Rap and Classical and Soul andHouse and Techno and Opera and Folk and Jazz and Jungle, alwaysJungle, all the music built on drum and bass, ultimately.

He had not listened to music for weeks, not since King Rat hadcome for him, and he had forgotten it. Saul stretched as if wakingfrom a sleep. He heard the music with new ears.

He realized that he had defeated the city. He crouched on the roof(of what building he did not know) and looked out over London at anangle from which the city was never meant to be seen. He had defeatedthe conspiracy of architecture, the tyranny by which the buildingsthat women and men had built had taken control of them, circumscribedtheir relations, confined their movements. These monolithic productsof human hands had turned on their creators, and defeated them withcommon sense, quietly installed themselves as rulers. They were asinsubordinate as Frankenstein’s monster, but they had waged a moresubtle campaign, a war of position more effective by far.

Saul kicked carelessly off and stalked across the roofs and wallsof London.

He could not put off thinking for ever.

Tentatively, he considered his position.

King Rat was no longer with him. Anansi was his own man, would dowhatever made him and his kingdom safest. Loplop was mad and deaf andmaybe dead.

The Piper wanted to kill them all.

Saul was on his own. He realized that he had no plan, and felt acurious peace. There was nothing he could do. He was waiting for thePiper to come to him. Until then he could go underground, couldinvestigate London, could find his friends…

He was afraid of them now. When he let himself think of them, hemissed them so much it made him ache, but he was not made of the samestuff as them any more, and he was afraid that he did not know how tobe their friend. What could he say to them, now that he lived in adifferent world?

But perhaps he didn’t live in a different world. He lived where hewanted, he thought suddenly, furiously. Wasn’t that what King Rat hadtold him, all that time ago? He lived wherever he wanted, and even ifhe didn’t live in the same world as them any more, he could visit,couldn’t he?

Saul realized how much he wanted to see Fabian.

And he remembered as well that the Piper wanted to kill himprecisely because he could move between the worlds. He felt afleeting sense of loneliness as he thought about the Piper, and thenhe realized that the smell of rat was all around him, was always allaround him. He stood slowly.

He realized that the smell of London was the smell of rat.

He began to hiss for attention, and lithe heads poked out of pilesof rubbish. He barked a quick order and the ranks began to approachhim, tentatively at first and then with eagerness. He shouted forreinforcements and seething waves of filthy brown bodies boiled overthe lip of the roof, and from chimneys and fire escapes and hiddencorners, like a film of spilt liquid running backwards, theycongealed around him, tightly wound, an explosion frozen at theflashpoint, hovering with suppressed violence, hanging on hiswords.

He would not face the Piper alone, he realized. He would have allthe rats in London on his side.

Sometimes, between putting food in her mouth and sleeping and thenJungle, seeing Pete, Natasha remembered other things.

She remembered something; she had a sense of being needed forsomething. She could not be sure what it was until somebody calledher. She fumbled with the phone, confused.

‘To yo Tasha!’

The voice was bizarre, muted and enthusiastic. She did notrecognize it at all.

‘Tash man, you there? It’s Fingers. I got your message aboutTerror and, yeah, that’s no problem. We’re going to stick you on theposter, make out like you’re famous. No one’s gonna admit theyhaven’t heard of you.’ The man on the telephone yelled withlaughter.

Natasha muttered that she did not understand.

There was a long pause.

‘Look, Tash, you faxed me, man — told me you wanted to spin someat Junglist Terror… you know, couple of weeks time? Well, that’sfine. I wanted to know what name you’re under, because we’re chuckingout some last-minute posters. Going to do a blitz down Camden, downyour way too.’

What name? Natasha gathered herself, played the phone call by ear,pretended she understood what was happening.

‘Tut me in as Rudegirl K.’

That was a name she used. Was that what he wanted, the man?Gradually she began to remember, and to understand. Junglist Terror,near the Elephant and Castle. It came back. She smiled delightedly.Had she asked for an opportunity to play? She could not rememberthat, but she could play Wind City, she didn’t mind…

Fingers rang off. He seemed perturbed, but Natasha only promisedto come on the date he told her, and agreed that she would spread theword. She held the receiver against her ear for a little bit too longafter he had rung off. The buzz confused her again, until gentlehands reached around her head and disentangled her from themachine.

Pete was there, she realized with a jolt of pleasure. He put thereceiver down, turned her to look at him. She wondered how long hehad been with her. She looked up at him, smiled beatifically.

‘I forgot to tell you that, Natasha,’ he said. ‘I thought weshould take the opportunity to show the world what we’ve been doing.So we’re going to play Wind City. OK?’

Natasha nodded and smiled.

Pete smiled back. His face; Natasha saw his face. It seemed hurt,she saw long thin scabs adorning it, but she did not really noticethem somehow, he grinned so happily. His face was very pale, but hesmiled at her with the same wide-eyed pleasure she always associatedwith him. Such a sweetie, she thought, so green. She smiled.

Pete backed away from her, holding her hand until he was out ofreach.

‘Let’s play some music, Natasha,’ he suggested.

‘Oh yes,’ she breathed. That would be excellent. A little Drum andBass. She could lose herself in that, take the tunes apart in hermind, see how they fitted together. Maybe they could play WindCity.

All of Saul’s friends were accounted for, apart from the man Kay.As he considered the piece of paper he held, the queasy foreboding inCrowley’s stomach grew. He was afraid he knew exactly where Kaywas.

He felt ridiculous, like a cop from some American TV show,operating on hunches, responding to preposterous gut feelings. He hadsought to cross-refer the data that had been gathered on the ruinedbody in the tube with the information they had on Saul’s friend Kay,who had been missing now for a couple of weeks.

For a while, Crowley had played with the idea that Kay could bebehind all this. It would be so much easier to attribute the carnagehe had seen to the other missing man. He kept his conjectures tohimself. His unwillingness to see Saul as the killer made no sense tothose around him, and he could understand why. There was justsomething, there was just something… the thoughts went around andaround in his head… it did not work; he had seen Saul; there wassomething else happening.

He jeopardized control of the investigation with his disquiet. Hewas reduced to scribbled notes to himself, exchanging favours withlaboratory technicians, the usual channels too risky for his ideas.He could not sit with his men and women and brainstorm, bouncingpossibilities back and forth, because they knew full well who theywere looking for. His name was Saul Garamond, he was an escapedprisoner and a dangerous man.