The Lazarus Gate by Mark Latham

work. And then we flipped past the addresses to a dog-eared page near the back of the book. A brief explanatory note from a clerk explained that every fourth address in the book had contained an erroneous Burmese character, which when collated formed another set of coordinates, like the ones that marked the dynamite targets previously. This was an astonishing find, and both Ambrose and I examined the coordinates excitedly. The margin notes explained that each of the erroneous symbols had been added ‘almost certainly’ in several different hands, and that there were nine sets of coordinates present. The first three correlated to the scenes of three anarchist attacks the previous year; the fourth was Chelsea Hospital, and of unknown significance. The next four were identical to the ones noted on the scrap of paper, though again not written by the same person. The final coordinate was again of unknown significance, and seemed to point to an area of Commercial Road in Whitechapel. But even from memory, a pattern started to form in my mind.
    ‘I think I have something,’ I said.
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’ I unfurled my map and made a small cross at each of the coordinates listed in the book. I then drew Ambrose’s attention to those sites around the Marble Arch incident. Kensington Road. Lisson Grove. Old Bond Street, and Marble Arch itself. ‘I’ve tried to place my little crosses as close to the actual addresses as I can, given the scale of the map. Now look.’ I took the notebook that had been left by the clerks and used the edge of its binding as a makeshift rule, drawing a straight pencil-line between the three detonation sites.
    ‘A triangle?’ queried Ambrose, raising an eyebrow.
    ‘Indeed. And if we were to pinpoint the locations, and apply the proper mathematics, I expect that Marble Arch would be in the dead centre of that triangle. Now look at the other coordinates. Battersea Bridge Road and Battersea Park Road on the South Bank, and Sloane Street on the north—what lies in the centre of that triangle?
    ‘Well, it’s hard to be exact,’ replied Ambrose, ‘but it looks like Chelsea Hospital. That bears out the coordinates that we found, but there was no explosion at the hospital.’
    ‘Just as there was no explosion at Marble Arch,’ I explained patiently. ‘I believe the points of the triangle are prearranged targets for our group of anarchists, and the central coordinate represents their means of escape; perhaps a rendezvous point with others of their group.’
    ‘Your theory seems relatively sound, but why triangles? Why so precise? And how is an exposed archway in the middle of London a suitable means of escape?’
    ‘So many questions, and I confess I cannot answer them,’ I admitted. ‘Triangles? Who knows. Perhaps it is some cod-symbolic gesture used by the group. Freemasons use geometric shapes in their ritual symbology, do they not?’
    Ambrose scoffed. ‘Come now, the great and the good of the grand lodges are unlikely to engage in dynamite crime.’
    ‘I never suggested they were,’ I said. ‘What I meant was that our group may have some occult or symbolic connection, which provides a motivation—or at least a direction—for their crimes. Look at the lists of names and addresses. So many of those people have a spiritualist or occult connection it cannot be coincidence. What we need to learn is whether those people are targets or collaborators, or both.’ I saw Ambrose waver, and knew I had started to convince him. I felt perhaps a flicker of triumph.
    ‘Oh, my sainted aunt! From latter-day Fenians to black magicians in one day,’ said Ambrose, looking plaintive. ‘I don’t fully understand—now that you point it out it almost seems too obvious; too easy—and yet why would one anarchist add to the work of another like this? And why write it down at all?’
    ‘The only reason for committing this information to writing,’ I replied, ‘would be the importance