San Francisco Night (15 page)

Nightingale finally walked out of the precinct just after midnight. Chen was waiting for him. She smiled but he could see the concern in her eyes. “You okay?” she asked.

Nightingale shrugged. “I’m tired, but it’s all good.” He took out his cigarettes and lit one. He saw Chen staring at the pack.

She held out a hand. “Give me one, you bastard.” Nightingale gave her a cigarette and lit it for her. They both blew smoke up at the stars. “Let’s walk,” she said.

They headed away from the precinct. “You stuck to your story?” asked Chen.

“Of course. You?”

“It was a good story. They bought it. Six warning shots is pushing it, but at least they didn’t have a corpse to deal with.” She turned to look at him. “We need to talk.”

“I could do with a drink first.”

She smiled thinly. “You read my mind.”

Chen took him to a small bar tucked away down a side street. The barman knew her and asked her if she wanted her usual. Chen shook her head. “No, Brad, I’ll have a brandy. A double.” She looked at Nightingale.

“A Glenmorangie,” he said.

“Rocks?’ asked Brad.

“Just a splash of water,” said Nightingale.

“Actually, I’ll have the same,” said Chen. “Make them both doubles.”

The barman poured their drinks and then walked away. Chen took a swig of hers and shuddered when it went down. Nightingale sipped his drink. “You’d be better off with sweet tea,” he said as he put his glass down on the bar.

“You can go fuck yourself,” she said, and drained her glass. She waved it at the barman and he came back and refilled it.

“I’m just saying, a good malt whisky needs to be savoured and appreciated.”

She raised her glass and smiled sarcastically. “And once again, I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.” She took another long drink.

“You’re still in shock,” he said.

“Do you think?” She started to raise her glass but Nightingale put a hand on her arm. “Seriously, take it slowly. I’ve a lot to tell you and you’ll need a clear head.”

“You’re a patronising bastard, has anyone told you that?”

Nightingale nodded. “You’re not the first.”

He took his hand away and she sat looking at him, the glass on the bar in front of her. “What’s going on, Jack?” she asked eventually.

“It’s complicated.”

“Damn right it’s complicated. I’ve been attacked by a demon from hell. I saved your life, remember? You owe me an explanation.”

“I need a cigarette.”

“Yeah, and the shrinks call that displacement behaviour.”

“I call it needing a cigarette,” said Nightingale.

“After what happened last time, don’t you think we’re safer inside?”

“If another one comes it won’t matter where I am.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Cigarette first,” said Nightingale, sliding off his stool.

Chen waved at the barman. “We’re going out for a smoke, Brad, we’ll be back.”

The barman looked surprised. “I thought you’d given up.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

Nightingale walked out of the bar and Chen followed closely behind. She glared at him as he lit a cigarette and blew smoke. “This displacement behaviour is getting on my nerves,” she said.

“I’m choosing my words carefully,” he said. He offered her the pack. She took a cigarette and he lit it for her.

“Just tell me what the hell is happening.” She took a long pull on her cigarette. “Damn, I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed smoking.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’ll think I’m crazy,” he said.

She folded her arms. “That ship has well and truly sailed,” she said.

Nightingale sighed. “That wasn’t a demon from Hell,” he said. “A demon is a whole different kettle of fish. What we killed was an Elemental, sent to destroy me. Created by a bunch of Satanists, the Satanists who have killed Father Mike and Sister Rosa and up to a dozen other innocent people.”

“Satanists? Devil-worshippers?”

Nightingale nodded.

Chen looked at him scornfully. “There’s no such thing. Every now and then we get an alleged Satanic case and it always turns out to be a lunatic. Or kids. We had a case a while back where Satanic symbols had been painted on gravestones. Turned out to be a punk band doing a bit of self-promotion.”

“This is real, Amy.”

She shook her head. “We’ve had the occasional serial killer pretend that the devil told him to do it, but that defence never works. They’re either crazy or they’re straight up lying. There hasn’t been a single case of genuine Satanic murder ever, anywhere in the country.”

Nightingale blew smoke up at the night sky. “They say that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist.”

“Who says that?”

Nightingale shrugged. “It was in that movie, Usual Suspects.”

“And that’s what this sounds like, Jack. A bad movie.” She shook her head. “But let’s suppose there is a bunch of Satanists out there killing people, why are they doing it?”

“To get Satanic power. So they can run the world.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You sound like you believe this crap?”

“I do. I know that makes me sound as if I’m as mad as a hatter, but that’s the way it is.”

“I’ve never understood that. It’s an English expression, right? Mad as a hatter?”

“Back in the 18th century most hats were made of felt and they used mercury to make the felt. Exposure to mercury leads to dementia so a lot of the workers in hat factories ended up going mad. Literally. I’m not crazy, Amy. No matter what you think.”

She smiled thinly. “The only reason I’m not walking away is because I saw that thing. And then I saw it disappear when you sprayed burning mace at it.” She shuddered. “It was like a bad dream. A nightmare.”

“It was real enough.”

“So why did the mace kill it and the bullets had no effect? And what was with the silver chain and knife?”

“The knife was silver and silver kills Water Elementals. But what attacked us wasn’t a Water Elemental.”

Chen shook her head, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jack. Explain it to me.”

“There are four types of Elementals. Silver kills the Water ones. I’ve been attacked by a Water one before and silver killed it. The one that attacked us in the alley was an Earth Elemental. They’re killed by fire. I’m told there are also Fire Elementals that you kill with water, and base metals will kill an Air Elemental.”

“So my gun would work on an Air Elemental?”

“Lead bullets? I guess so.”

“But silver bullets for werewolves, right?”

Nightingale chuckled. “So you won’t believe in Satanists, but you have no problems with werewolves.”

“I didn’t say I believed in werewolves, Jack. Do you?”

Nightingale blew smoke. “I’ve never come across one so I’m keeping an open mind. But I’ve seen and done stuff, Amy. Heavy stuff. So yes, I do believe in Satanic power and it scares the shit out of me.”

“I need a drink,” said Chen. “And no more patronising crap about a good whiskey needing to be savored. I need alcohol.”

Nightingale crushed what was left of his cigarette under his heel. “You and me both.”

They sat at a corner table, Nightingale with both his hands around a glass of Anchor and Chen with a whiskey and water that she was already halfway through. “Give me the low-down, quick and simple,” she said.

“There’s a group of twelve, working for a woman who calls herself Abaddon, one of the names for the Angel of Death. The twelve followers are called the Apostles. They have an initiation ceremony which involves them killing a Christian in the style that the original Apostle died. They all met gory deaths – Andrew was crucified on an X-shaped cross, Bartholomew was flayed alive with knives, James the Elder was beheaded, James the Lesser was sawn into pieces. The Apostles carry out their killings in a group Sabbat and each time the coven gets stronger.”

“Twelve, you say? And how many have there been so far?”

“I think they’re close to finishing. Then there’s a final ceremony, where two children are sacrificed. A white boy and a black girl.” Nightingale picked up his lager and sipped it as he watched Chen’s reaction.

“The missing kids?” Her mouth opened in horror. “You are shitting me?”

Nightingale shook his head. “I wish I was.”

“So these scumbags are planning to kill Brett and Sharonda, for what? More Satanic power?”

“I don’t know the full story yet. I’m still working on that.”

“This is bullshit, right? Please tell me this whole Satanism thing is bullshit, Jack, that it’s just a group of crazies getting their rocks off by killing kids.”

“You saw the Elemental, Amy. I’ve seen much worse.”

“You’re telling me this is all true?”

Nightingale nodded.

Chen drained her glass and waved over at a waitress for a refill. “Who is in this group, do you know?”

“I’ve got two names,” he said. “Brace yourself.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll say I’m crazy.”

“Give me the names, Jack.”

Nightingale took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Kent Speckman and Lucille Carr. I’m told that they’re both Apostles.’

Chen’s jaw dropped. “You are out of your fucking mind.”

He raised his glass in salute. “Told you.”

She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. “Listen to yourself, will you? Kent Speckman is an NFL living legend and Lucille Carr is a movie star.”

“Yes, and three years ago Speckman was close to being cut by his team and Lucille Carr couldn’t get arrested in Hollywood. Something happened to both their careers, Amy. Something big. Within the space of a few months Speckman went from being a potential trade to Most Valuable Player. And Lucille Carr suddenly found every director from Scorsese to Spielberg knocking on her door. Now she’s being talked about as Oscar material for her last two movies.”

“And you’re telling me that it’s because they’re devil-worshippers?”

“I was told that they were in the Apostles. Then I looked at their past history.” He shrugged.

“And you didn’t think that maybe their success was down to hard work, talent and a bit of luck? You went straight to human sacrifice?”

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence?”

“I think there are all sorts of reason why people succeed.”

“Have a look at Lucille Carr. She was nothing and suddenly she was Hollywood’s flavour of the month. And I can show you a video of Speckman where it looks like he’s getting help.”

“Help?”

“Things happen when he plays, things that don’t seem quite right.”

The waitress returned with her drink and Chen gulped down half of it before speaking. “Let’s suppose for one minute that it’s true. That there is a gang of serial killers who are killing Christians and are planning to kill Brett Michaels and Sharonda Parker. What the hell do we do?”

“We have to stop them.”

“And how do we do that?”

Nightingale sighed. “We need to find out who Abaddon is. We need to find out where they are carrying out the sacrifices. And we need to find out where the kids are and rescue them.”

Chen nodded. “So we have a to-do list. Any thoughts on what we do next?”

Nightingale smiled. “I was hoping you might have some ideas. I do know one thing, the mansion they use is a twenty-minute drive from the Rite Aid on Hillside Boulevard.”

“That narrows it down a bit, but not much.” She frowned. “How do you know that?”

Nightingale was reluctant to tell her too much about Lee Mitchell, in particular that he had been tortured and murdered after speaking to him. “The guy I spoke to a while back. The one I gave my credit card to. They took him to the mansion but they made him park twenty minutes away and took him there in a hood. I did have one thought. We know that Speckman and Carr are Apostles. If we put them under surveillance they’ll lead us to the rest eventually.”

“By ‘we’ I assume you mean the SFPD.”

“It’s a way in, Amy. You’d need pros, real arms-length surveillance.”

“And what do I tell my boss, Jack? If I start talking about devil worship and human sacrifice I’ll be on medical leave so fast that my head will be spinning.”

“You could say that you’d had a tip that they were involved in the abductions.”

“And who’s going to believe that? Seriously?”

“What about talking to your Drugs Squad? Say that you’ve had a tip that they’re involved in drugs, big-time.”

“I’m in Missing Persons. Why would I get a tip like that?”

Nightingale threw up his hands. “I’m just trying to help. Can you think of anything better?”

“Phone taps would be helpful, but I don’t see how I could arrange that. They’re too high profile, I don’t see any judge signing off on it. And my boss would want to know what the hell I was playing at. What about you?”

“Me? On surveillance?  One man’s no good, you know that. Good surveillance requires at least a six-man team and two vehicles and that’s the bare minimum. I’m guessing Speckman and Carr are both used to being stalked by the paparazzi. They’ll be able to shake off anyone they spot, I’m sure of that.” A smile slowly spread across his face. “I’ve an idea.”

“Care to share?”

“We bug their cars.
GPS
locators. Then we can track them by computer. If we follow them eventually they’ll go the mansion.”

“Assuming they go in their own vehicle. What if they get picked up?”

“I’m guessing they’ll want to involve as few people as possible. So if they’re going to a Sabbat they’ll drive themselves. If we can track them we’ll see if they ever meet up. And if they meet at a mansion somewhere then we’ve got them.”

“Sounds like a long shot to me.”

Nightingale ran a hand through his hair. Chen was right. But if there was even a remote possibility that either Speckman or Carr would lead them to Abaddon, it was surely worth trying.

“And how would we go about placing transmitters on their cars anyway?” asked Chen.

“I can get the equipment easily enough,” said Nightingale. “And I know a cop who could get us in, up close and personal.”

Chen stared at him as realisation dawned. “You’ll be the death of me, Jack.”

“Hopefully not,” said Nightingale. “Let’s order some more drinks and work on a strategy.”