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He didn't have to rub it in. I felt bad enough as it was. Even if one of them was only a scumbag drug dealer.

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'Come on then,' said Carpenter to Ripley. 'Let's take a look.' The pair of them left. I tagged along. I had nothing better to do. Valin's suite was on the top floor next to Ninotchka's. The door was open and coppers were buzzing around like flies. I didn't go inside the room, just looked in between the figures of the policemen. Baby Boy Valin was lying on one of the sofas. Even from where I was standing I could see that his head was at a strange angle and his face black, with eyes and tongue protruding, just like Turdo's had been. I'd've put money that a guitar string was embedded deeply into the flesh of his neck too.

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Oh shit, I thought.

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I looked down the corridor to where it doglegged round to Ninotchka's suite, and followed it, and knocked on the door. Don answered. He stood in the doorway, blocking my way. 'Is she in?' I asked.

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'Is that Nick?' came Ninotchka's voice from inside.

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Don stood back and I went inside. Big Phil was leaning against the wall by the window. Ninotchka was standing in the middle of the room. She was holding a glass. 'Well, Nick,' she said, 'it looks like you were right.'

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'Yes, Phil just told us.'

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I looked over at the big man. 'I'm not exactly ecstatic about it,' I said. 'I'm really sorry, Ninotchka.' And I was.

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'Poor Elmo,' she said as if she hadn't heard me. 'And Baby Boy. Jesus, this is awful.'

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I turned to Don. 'Why was he alone?' I demanded. 'Where were your lot?'

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He shrugged. 'Don't ask me.'

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'If I don't, someone else will.'

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Suddenly there was a commotion in the corridor. I went outside and round to Valin's suite again. A uniformed sergeant had arrived from somewhere, and was breathlessly explaining to Carpenter and Ripley that someone had been spotted on the roof.

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'We think it's our man, Guy.'

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'Mike,' said Carpenter with authority, 'let's go.' He turned to me. 'This time you stay here. You've caused enough trouble as it is.'

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I stood and watched as the three of them went down the corridor away from me.

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I did as I was told for once.

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I went back into Ninotchka's room. 'What's happening?' she asked.'There's someone on the roof.'

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I shrugged. 'Who knows?'

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She knew. 'Is it Bobby?'

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'They think so.'

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'Oh, sweet Jesus. Let him be all right.'

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I said nothing in reply. 'Anyone got a cigarette?' I asked. Big Phil tossed me a packet of B&H. I took one and he lit it for me. I went over to the bar and got a beer. 'Anyone else?' I asked.

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I smoked the cigarette and drank some beer and said nothing. Nor did anyone else. Ninotchka paced the floor, still holding her glass.

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Ten minutes later Ripley came into the suite. 'Can I see you a minute, miss?'

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'Is it Bobby?' she asked.

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'Yes,' he said. 'We can't get to him, and he'll only speak to you. No one else. He says he'll jump if you don't go up there.'

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'OK,' she said without hesitation.

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'Wait a second,' I interrupted. 'He might want to kill you too.'

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'You can't risk it. He's killed two people already tonight.'

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'You don't know that, Nick.'

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'I wouldn't bet my life on it.'

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'Come with me then.'

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'He said just you, miss,' interrupted Ripley. 'There's no knowing what he'll do if someone else goes out there with you.'

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'It'll be all right,' she said. I hoped she was as confident as she sounded.

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'OK,' I said. 'But stay close to me. Don't let him touch you.' She nodded assent and we went.

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Although the suite we were in was on what was called the top floor of the hotel, it wasn't really. Upstairs were the attics of the old houses. A narrow flight of stairs led to them. Up there the dividing walls had not been completely knocked through. The three of us snaked through the gaps, sometimes walking on hardboard, sometimes on thick joists. The attics were dimly lit by dusty bulbs hung high in the rafters, and old pieces of furniture and rubbish loomed through the shadows. The only major work that seemed to have been done was that midget doors had been set in the roof every twenty yards or so, probably where there used to be windows, to allow access to the fire escapes. Carpenter was standing inside one of the doorways. A powerful lamp on a tripod, powered by a battery, shone out onto the roof. 'Thank you for coming,' he said to Ninotchka. And then to me, 'What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay out of this?'

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'If she's going to talk to him, I'm going with her.'

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'You can't let her go outside there on her own. Are you mad? It's too dangerous. He might decide to jump off and take her with him.' I saw the look of pain on Ninotchka's face as I said it. 'Sorry,' I said, squeezing her arm. 'But he might.'

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'I still don't believe he killed anyone,' she said. I wondered what kind of man Boyle must have been to command such loyalty. And what kind of woman Ninotchka was to give it. For a moment I envied him, and her. 'Two people have died already tonight,' I said to Carpenter. 'Let's not make it three or four if we can help it. I'm going with her, and that's all there is to it. You can't put her in that kind of danger. I'll make sure the publicity kills you if you do.'

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If looks could burn, I'd've been toast.

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'It'll be all right,' said Ninotchka. 'Let him come with me.'

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Carpenter hesitated. 'OK,' he said. 'Now listen, I've got men inside the room under here. When you've got Boyle's attention, I'll call them up.'

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'That wasn't part of the deal,' protested Ninotchka.

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'Without it, there isn't a deal.'

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'So you want to trick him?'

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'No, I want you to save him. Whatever he is, and whatever he's done, he'll be better off with us than out there.'

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She thought about it for a minute and looked at me. I nodded to her. It really was the only way. 'All right,' she said reluctantly.

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'Can't you put a line on her?' I asked Carpenter.

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'I don't want a damn line!' she said. 'Heights don't bother me.'

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Unfortunately I was remembering just how much they bothered me. A line would have made me feel a whole lot better. 'How about the fire brigade?' I asked: 'With nets.'

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'He said that if he sees them he'll jump right away,' replied Carpenter.

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Christ, I thought, the geezer's thought of everything.

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'Are we going, or are we going to stand here all night discussing it?' asked Ninotchka.

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I couldn't think of anything further to delay us. I took a deep breath. 'OK, let's go.'

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Ninotchka stepped into the doorway. I stood behind her. It was misty outside. It reminded me of the swimming pool, and the beam from the light that the police had set up was haloed with particles of moisture in the air. The green tiles looked slippery and dangerous from where we stood, and our shadows were long and very black on them.

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From the door where we stood, slanting downwards to the edge of the roof, stretched a black iron handrail that I imagined led to the top of the fire escape. It was maybe three foot high, and looked very frail. Where the roof finished, it turned sharply along the edges, to the end of the building, where it turned back again for about a yard and ended where it ran into the roof again. In that far corner, in the angle that the railing made, leaning against it was a figure. I could just tell in the refracted light that it was the man who had been in the car park the night before. He was peering down over the edge of the roof checking that no police were coming up. That was why we needed to get his attention.

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'Bobby,' said Ninotchka softly. He didn't seem to hear. 'Bobby,' she said again, but louder this time.

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He looked up at us with a start. 'Ninotchka,' he said. Then he looked behind her at me. 'Who's that with you?' he demanded.

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'A friend. His name's Nick.'

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'I told them that you were to come alone.'

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'They wouldn't let me.'

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'Tell him to go away or I'll jump.' He put his hand on the rail and crouched as if to vault over it.

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'No, baby. Trust me,' pleaded Ninotchka. 'He won't hurt you, I promise.'

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'Is he a cop?'

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'No, I told you. He's a friend. Please let him stay.'

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'You,' he said to me, 'Nick or whatever your name is.'

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'No tricks, understand, or I'll jump.'

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'No tricks, Bobby,' I said. But I had my fingers crossed. I'd do anything necessary to get him inside without hurting Ninotchka. There was silence for a moment. I could clearly hear the traffic from the main road. 'Bobby, what have you done?' Ninotchka asked eventually.

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'Why don't you come in, honey?'

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When he replied, his voice croaked. 'They'll put me away again,' he said. 'I couldn't bear it.'

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'No, they won't,' she replied.

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'Don't lie to me, Nin. Not now.'

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'They beat me up in there, Nin. You'd never believe the things they did to me.'

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I believed it.

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'I'm sorry, honey,' she said.

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'What the hell am I going to do?' he said desperately as if he hadn't heard.

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'I don't know. Come in, please. You look so cold out there.'

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'I've been out in the cold for years.'

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'Come in, Bobby,' I said. 'This is no good for anyone. I saw your dad today.'

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'You did?' He looked up again.

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'Sure. He'll help you.' Christ, I thought, that was a good one.

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Bobby was miles ahead of me. 'Man, if you think that, you didn't see my father. He can hardly help himself to the toilet.'

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There was a faint clink from the other side of the roof. Boyle looked down, then at us again. 'Oh, Nin, not you too. I trusted you.' He came up on his hands and knees and crabbed across the tiles towards us. The soles of his sneakers slid away and his hands scrabbled for a hold. I felt Ninotchka move from me and the safety of the doorway. I grabbed her arm, but she knocked my hand down and moved further towards him. I went after her.

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Hand over hand she edged along next to the handrail. I was just a foot behind her. Boyle came fully to his feet. They were maybe two yards apart. She let go of the rail, and put her hand out to him. As she did so, she missed her footing. I heard her gasp as she slipped on the damp roof, and both Boyle and I grabbed for her. I caught her wrist and brought her up short. It reminded me of another time and another place. He missed completely, and lost his footing, and his arms windmilled at the air, and he slid down towards the edge of the roof. The backs of his thighs hit the rail, and he stopped for a long second before he toppled over it, arms clutching at the empty air again, and dropped from sight. He screamed as he went until the scream was cut off abruptly with a thud like a bag of damp cement hitting the ground.

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Ninotchka screamed too as he went. She tried to pull away from me, but I dragged her back and held her. I could feel her heart beating against me and she sobbed into my chest. Carpenter came out onto the roof and I passed her to him, and when he had her, I went to the top of the fire escape and looked down. Boyle's body lay in a heap on the concrete beneath me. All I could clearly see were his feet sprawled out in the light from an uncurtained window. I gripped the rail with both hands to keep them from shaking. Some policemen appeared from below and knelt over him, then stood and looked up.

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The light shone on their faces too, and from their expressions I knew it was over.

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So that appeared to be that. Apparently Boyle had been living in the attic off and on for a week. A close search revealed a few pathetic belongings: a blanket, some scraps of food he'd stolen from the kitchen, an old copy of the NME containing the story that the band were arriving in the country to complete their new album, and a single drumstick. A 2B. The twin of the one that had been hammered into Turdo's chest.

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With the death of Valin, Pandora's Box more or less fell apart. Box, Shorty Long, Scratch and Shapiro with their respective spouses and hangers-on, and Valin's girlfriend caught the Saturday noon plane for Los Angeles. Valin's body was going to be shipped out after the post-mortem. Nobody seemed keen to stay with it. Pandora made arrangements for his mother to be flown to America for medical treatment within the next few days. His teeny-boppers and their mother were due to accompany him, Ninotchka, Pascall plus wife, and Lomax on the evening plane. The Wembley dates and the rest of the tour were cancelled, and the lawyers, accountants and crew splintered to their many and various destinations.

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On that morning I met Lomax in the deserted bar around eleven-thirty. It had the air of a seaside town on the day after the season finished.

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I got a beer from the bar and joined him in the same booth I'd met him in days earlier. It really did seem more like months, or even years. He turned up the light as I slid into the seat. 'So that's all she wrote,' he said by way of a greeting.

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'Well, this isn't exactly how I envisaged it ending. But thanks anyway, Nick, for all you've done.'

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'All I did was get a couple of people killed who shouldn't have been.'

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'It wasn't your fault. What do the police say?'

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'They're saying nothing to me at the moment. Carpenter is "considering further action", as he puts it.'

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'Shit, I don't know. Don't care much.'

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'Shit, I don't know. Don't care much,' I said again.

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'Well, as far as we're concerned, you did the best you could under the circumstances. And we'd like you to accept this.' He took a cheque from his jacket pocket.

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'You don't know how much it's for.'

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'And I don't want to. Keep it. Send it to Boyle's father.'

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