Desperate to find a case to justify the team’s existence,
with budget cuts and a police strike on the horizon, Quill thinks he’s struck
gold when a cabinet minister is murdered by an assailant who wasn’t seen
getting in or out of his limo. A second murder, that of the Commissioner of the
Metropolitan Police, presents a crime scene with a message… identical to that
left by the original Jack the Ripper. The
new Ripper seems to have changed the MO of the old completely: he’s only
killing rich white men. The inquiry into just what this supernatural menace is
takes Quill and his team into the corridors of power at Whitehall, to meetings
with MI5, or ‘the funny people’ as the Met call them, and into the London
occult underworld. They go undercover to a pub with a regular evening that
caters to that clientele and to an auction of objects of power at the Tate
Modern. Meanwhile, the Ripper keeps on killing and finally the pattern of those
killings gives Quill’s team clues towards who or what is really doing this.
Paul Cornell’s second book (see London Falling) in his urban
fantasy series continues the mash-up between almost every supernatural movie or
TV series and the police procedural. The book took a bit to get going –as did
the first book- but this one takes longer. Perhaps because the characters were
all doing something separate, trying to investigate these events, but I felt
the book was a bit messy.
And then, Cornell pulls out a bizarre twist that features real-life
author Neil Gaiman. At first I thought this was just an odd cameo, but Cornell
has this version of Gaiman become an accessory to murder and helps the real
villain of the story dispose of a body. I’m curious as to why Gaiman would
attach himself to such a story that paints him in such a bad way. Perhaps it
amused him, but it is a distraction.
While it’s also disappointing that Cornell dips into the
Ripper lore as many have done before, the last third of the book is well paced
and comes to a satisfactory conclusion. All the characters seem to grow from
the previous adventure, and like much British crime drama, some are not all
likable. At times I have a bit of conflict with this, but I realize it’s more
my thinking than writers. I grew up in a media culture that had clear
differences in such roles, where the good guys had flaws, but none that made
them so unappealing you hoped they died.