‘THREE, seventeen,’ Edwin repeated. ‘Three dead, seventeen arrested. And the head of an albatross. I don’t see how this could possibly be anything but more of the same. We never knew who was behind it all, whether he escaped. Clearly, he did.’ ‘Clearly,’ Mycroft echoed. ‘Unless someone else has taken over and is exacting revenge on behalf of a predecessor. And he seems to have been talking to some of your old friends, unless you were very public with your pen name.’ Edwin shrugged, pulling his thumbnail through his moustache. ‘I wasn’t very close about it. Not at first. Remember, I hoped to stir some things up, but I didn’t think I’d end up writing about anything dangerous. But it’s been ten years. I don’t know whether they only just found out I was Peter Storm, or if they were sitting o