Pointer Office

Industrial snow falls on London, quieter than death. This was the best of times, when steam and magic made peace under the chimneys, and the ether crystals illuminated the ambitions of the empire and dyed the entire city gray. This was the worst of times, when industrial snow covered the streets, factory whistles drowned out the moans of the poor, and parliamentary decrees could not wipe away the tears on the faces of prostitutes. Pointers crouched in the shadows of Cornhill Street. Leo White, a decadent detective who is three months behind on his rent and whose shirt is always wrinkled, lives in confusion. When the English field inspector knocked on the door with four times the commission money, when the Viscount's body was missing the wedding ring on his ring finger, when the abdomen opened in the dark alley of Whitechapel revealed the cruel truth - the "Ripper" was back, or perhaps he never left. The butler Gray's rolling pin is more accurate than a bullet, the assistant Sam has not yet understood the weight of chivalry, and the black-haired girl Ferrero, who has lost her language, is quietly flipping through the "King Arthur" picture book, as if the fire of fate has not yet fallen into her blood. This is not a simple detective story. This is a story about the night watchman - in this rotten world, there are always people who choose not to find scapegoats, not to sign the closing report with their eyes closed, and not to add another "Anonymous" to the cold files. This is a game of crime and punishment, where the real murderer and the imitator race in the industrial snow, with the blade reaching the truth faster than the bullet of a steam revolver. And the pointer always points to the forgotten corner.