She heard someone fussing with something, cursing as they fumbled for a switch too subtle for its own good.

‘Waldstein?’ whispered Anna. ‘You all right?’ The breathing faltered and stopped in answer to her question.

‘Get the torch on!’

‘I’m trying! I can’t find the … Where is it?’

The poor man in the cage started to say something quietly. Anna leaned forward, finally brave enough to press against the wire mesh. It was still warm from carrying the electrical charge but not hot. And, thankfully, not live. ‘You OK in there?’

‘I … I’ve s-seen … it …’

‘It’s all right. We’re going to get you out … and then we’ll get an ambulance.’

‘I … I’ve seen it,’ his voice rasped.

Then behind her the torch snapped back on and shadows danced in all directions.

‘He’s in shock,’ said Anna. ‘Get the light on him.’

The beam swung down over her shoulder, casting a grid-work of leaping shadows around the warehouse. Through the wire she could make out the man she’d seen moments ago: the man she’d thought needed medication and a nice comfortable padded cell in which to live out his delusion.

No burnt human carcass. That much was a relief. But his face … his face.

Those eyes beneath the frizzy lunatic hair and behind those madman spectacles were still round and wide, but not with the childlike wonder and excitement he’d been exhibiting before. Not any more.

It was terror. Sheer terror. The look of a mind utterly closed down to protect itself from insanity. At that moment she realized tonight had been no parlour trick. No stage magician looking for an audience, looking for publicity.

He’s been somewhere. He’s actually been somewhere. And for some reason she had a feeling he’d been gone far longer than a minute.

‘What?’ asked Anna Lopez softly. ‘What just happened?’