He was in the man's study.

A pair of brown leather wingback chairs sat at oblique angles to a large oak table. Bookshelves lined the walls with an eclectic mix of tomes, from first editions to the latest forensic journals. The man was secure here but there was also a latent excitement, an expectation that went beyond what this room offered.

The man reached for a book on the bookcase and typed in a code, pulling a hidden door open. His arousal was heady and Blake fought to keep himself separate from this man's dark psyche. He understood the temptation to vicariously experience – the visions could allow him that – but like ink into water, it would taint his soul.

The hidden room was a trophy cabinet, Blake could see that immediately. He saw the beaked mask of the Venetian plague doctor, the books of human skin and framed tattoos, skin stretched and pinned into place. The skinning knife, clean and shiny, its blade glittering.

The man opened a safe and pulled out some papers. Blake glimpsed stock certificates with the name Vera Causa on them. The man pushed them aside and reached for a box carved with obscenities. He opened it and pulled out a sheaf of photos. Blake caught sight of a child's face and felt a spike in the man's arousal. He pulled away quickly before the images imprinted themselves on his mind. He had seen enough.

Blake opened his eyes and lifted his hands from the pen. The room swam a little as he refocused on the present, anchoring himself again to the physical world he inhabited. He let his mind scan over his own body, sensing he was back and had separated from the tendrils of the evil he had briefly touched.

Jamie handed him some water silently.

Blake drank several big gulps, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat, latching onto physical sensation. He took a deep breath and turned to face Jamie.

Chapter 29

"I think the pen belongs to the new Mayor, Dale Cameron," Blake said. Jamie didn't look surprised. "OK, you knew that."

Jamie nodded. "But I think he's more than that."

"You're right," Blake said. "I saw the abattoir, the beaked mask from the ball. He has a box full of photos – children – but I pulled away then."

Jamie reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she said. "But now we know."

Blake shook his head. "But it's inadmissible, you know that. The visions mean nothing without physical evidence."

Jamie's eyes glinted in the half light. "I know that, but I have contacts in the police. I can get this to the attention of the right people."

Blake put his head in his hands. The desire for alcohol had subsided, but his head pounded with the aftermath of the visions.

"You need to rest," Jamie said. "I know how much reading takes out of you. Come lie down."

She patted the bed next to her, pulling the covers open for him.

There was a part of Blake that wanted to lean down and kiss her right now, to stroke her bare skin with his scarred hands. Could he read her past? Could he take her pain from her?

But now wasn't the right time. It never seemed to be the right time.

He lay down and closed his eyes. He felt her breath on his cheek and then her lips touched his face in a light kiss. Her weight shifted a little as she leaned down.

"I need to make some calls and then I'll come and rest with you," she whispered. "Sleep now."

Blake wanted to hold onto that moment, he wanted to wait for her to come to bed, but he was exhausted. His mind and body spent. He let go of wanting and slipped into sleep.

Jamie heard Blake's breathing change as he fell asleep. His face relaxed and she watched him for a moment. He was a beautiful man and part of her wanted to curl around him and kiss his caramel skin, taste his body. He would wake in the night and they would finally take things further. All she had to do was slip into bed next to him.

But his vision had shaken her and Jamie knew she wouldn't sleep now.

Dale Cameron had been her boss in the police, but she had glimpsed his darker side several times. She had tried to ignore her suspicions before, but now she was sure that it must have been him in the smoke of the Hellfire Caves, covering up the scandal for his aristocratic friends. He procured the victims for the RAIN agency and now he was cleaning up the city in a much more personal way.

Jamie picked up her motorcycle helmet and gloves. She looked down at Blake's sleeping face once more, fixing his image in her mind.

This wasn't his responsibility. She had to do this alone.

She picked up the pen and put it in her pocket. Then she slipped out of the flat, mounted her bike and roared back towards Southwark.

The Mayor's new office was in the Shard, the tallest building in Europe, a tower of glass that rose above the ancient city like an angel's spear pointing the way to Heaven. Jamie parked below it and looked up. It was beautiful, a fitting place for Dale Cameron to survey his new domain. Jamie thought of the temptation of Jesus in the desert when the Devil had taken him to a high place and offered him the world if only he would call on the angels to lift him up. It seemed as if Cameron had already taken his deal with the Devil.

It was late, but she knew Cameron's habits from the police. He often worked late into the night, and in the first few days of his Mayoralty it was likely that he was still at the office. She also still had his mobile number.

She stood at the main entrance, closed and locked for the night. Jamie dialed Cameron's number.

It rang once, twice, three times. Her heart sank as she realized that she might not have the reckoning she craved tonight.

"Jamie Brooke." Cameron's voice was calm and assured. "I'm a little surprised to hear from you, especially at this late hour."

"I'd like to talk to you," Jamie said, her heart pounding. She didn't really have a plan as such, but her anger had carried her this far. She had to see it through now. "I remember how you used to work this late in the police." She paused. "I miss those times."

There was a moment of silence and she wondered if she had laid it on too thick.

A click and a whirr and the door slid open.

"Come up. Take the right-hand lift."

Jamie walked in, her footsteps echoing on the marble slabs underfoot. This place oozed wealth and power. No wonder Cameron liked it here.

The lift made her feel slightly queasy as it zoomed upwards. She took her phone out and activated the recording app, slipping it back into her pocket as the doors pinged. Jamie stepped out to find Cameron standing at the doorway to his office, a bottle of burgundy in his hand. He wore a grey suit that looked like it cost more than Jamie's motorbike. He was clean shaven and she could smell a hint of cologne. Enough to woo the senses, not overpower them.

"Drink?" he said, holding up the bottle. The movement revealed a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist. "I was about to have one myself and after all, it's not something we ever did when we worked together."

Jamie nodded. "That would be great."

He turned and she followed him through the open-plan workspace into his office. There were piles of boxes everywhere, paperwork strewn over desktops and pictures still in bubble wrap.

"We're still moving in," Cameron said, pouring the wine into two Riedel glasses. His eyes twinkled with excitement. "Lots to do. Exciting times for the city."