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Hartridge told him as they ran.

“Ian, you have to stay here for a bit longer. I’m going, but tell Layman that Robby panicked when we left the room and gave Jackman up.”

“What?” Hartridge stopped dead. “He did?”

“The address is on the tape. Follow after me as soon as Layman knows where Jackman is.” He didn’t wait for confirmation, he ran for the stairwell, his heart trying to fight its way out of his chest.

There was a crowd up ahead on the wide corner at the south west entrance to Holland Park.

James slammed on the brakes of his car and jumped out, and then noticed PC Evans, standing head and shoulders above everyone else, right at the front of whatever was happening.

“Move,” he ordered the three youths loitering at the back.

One turned to give him an earful, and he shoved his warrant card in their direction.

The lads melted away, and James pushed his way through to join Evans.

A young man, and James recognized him immediately as the same one he’d seen hanging around outside Gabriella’s house two Mondays ago, was standing outside the telephone box, pacing up and down.

Gabriella was inside, sitting on the floor, her back wedged into a corner, her legs bent as they braced against the door.

His gaze went straight to the knife in the man’s right hand. He was hitting it against his thigh as he walked back and forth.

He came back to stand in front of the door, and then turned, seeming to realize the size of the crowd for the first time.

James saw his Adam’s apple bob in dismay, and then with a scream of frustration, he slammed himself back against the door.

Gabriella lifted herself off the floor slightly, using her body as a lever to keep the door closed.

“DS Archer.” Evans noticed him for the first time.

“How long have they been like this?” James asked.

“About ten minutes. Before then, he had an arm and shoulder inside the door, but someone in the crowd threw a ball at him, I’m told. It gave him a momentary fright and he lost his grip on the door. Gabriella was able to close it, and she’s had to hold herself like that since then to keep him out.”

“Right.” James studied the scene.

The crowd surrounded the telephone box in a loose ring, closing off all escape routes for the youth. He noticed a few other uniformed officers in the crowd, enough that if the youth tried to run, he’d be stopped.

“I’m going to approach.” He stepped into the open space between the crowd and the telephone box. “I’m Detective Sergeant Archer with the Metropolitan Police.” He held up his warrant card. “Put the knife down.”

“You!” the man said. “I know you.”

The only way that could be true was if he’d been watching Gabriella’s house on more than just the night the two of them had seen him in the rain.

“Who are you, and what’s this all about?” If Sutcliffe was behind this, James would bury him.

The man shook his head. “No, no, no. You all need to go away.” He pointed the knife at the crowd. “I’ll stab my way out, see if I don’t.”

A murmur went through the crowd, but James noted they did not so much as take a single step back.

“How are you going to get out of this? Why are you so set on harming Miss Farnsworth?” James asked.

“You don’t understand what she’s done!” He started pacing again, and James waited until he was at his furthest from the telephone box, just as he turned back to pace the other way, James ran, standing directly in front of the door, blocking it.

The man jerked back, saw he’d lost the advantage, and suddenly started looking around for a way out.

“Smile for the front page,” a man in the crowd called out. He stepped into the open, camera raised, close to the man, and James could see the little Press badge on his top pocket.