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Authors: Stephen Leather

San Francisco Night (16 page)

BOOK: San Francisco Night
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CHAPTER 41  
 

The bar shut at three o’clock in the morning and Chen and Nightingale stood on the sidewalk looking for a taxi.  “I’ll use Uber,” she said, taking out her smartphone. “Where are you staying?”

Nightingale cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go back to the hotel,” he said. “They’ll know I’m staying there.”

“How?”

“The same way they were able to send the Elemental after me,” he said.

“You haven’t told me everything, have you?” she said.

“Amy, it’s a long story, and a complicated one. But I can’t go back to the hotel. I’ll have to leave my car, too. They could be waiting for me to go back for it.”

“How do you know they won’t send another Elemental after you?”

“It needs something personal to use to track me down. The ritual involves the destruction of that item so it can only be used once.”

“What was it?”

“A credit card. I gave it to one of the would-be Apostles.”

“Why would you do that?”

Nightingale looked pained.

“If you’re going to tell me it’s complicated, I swear I’ll slap you.”

“It’ll take time and I’m not sure that the street is the best place for that sort of conversation.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll need to find another place to stay.” He cursed under his breath, took out his cell phone and ripped off the back. He pulled out the Sim card, broke it in half and tossed it into the gutter before reassembling the phone. “The guy I spoke to had my number,” he said.

“And you think he’s told them everything about you?”

Nightingale nodded. “I’m sure of it.” He was sure because Mitchell had been tortured before he died but he wasn’t ready to tell Chen that just then.

Chen sighed. She tapped on the screen of her smart phone. “Okay, there’s a cab two minutes away,” she said. “You can sleep on my sofa tonight.”

Nightingale was surprised at her offer. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure. But you’ve still got some explaining to do and my apartment is probably the best place for that.’

 

CHAPTER 42  
 

Chen lived in a converted warehouse that overlooked San Francisco Bay. There were exposed brick walls and metal girders criss-crossing the ceiling. The main living area was open plan with a kitchen area and breakfast bar at one end, and two large black leather sofas either side of a large flatscreen TV on a bareback wall.  There was a decent stereo system against one wall and  several hundred vinyl LPs on metal racks between the windows. There was a collection of framed family photographs on one of the window sills. The floorboards looked original. They had been sanded and varnished but were uneven and cracked in places and there were several squeaks as Nightingale walked over to the sofa and sat down. Chen pulled open a double-doored stainless steel fridge. “I can offer you wine,” she said. “Or water. Or a Dr Pepper.”

“Water,” he said. “But coffee would be better.”

She turned and look at him, stretched out on the sofa. “Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” she said.

“Okay, water will be just fine,” he said.

She laughed. “I can make you a coffee,” she said. She busied herself at her coffee machine and carried over two cappuccinos. She put them down on a coffee table that looked as if it had once been an industrial workbench and sat down on the sofa opposite him.

“What are we going to do, Jack?”

“We find the kids,” said Nightingale. “We track down the Apostles and their leader and we stop them.”

“And what about after lunch?” she said. “End world poverty and find a cure for Aids?”

“What do you want me to say, Amy? We have to do something. If you’ve got any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

“You’re one hundred per cent sure that Kent Speckman and Lucille Carr are in this group?”

Nightingale nodded. “As sure as I can be.”

“So let’s run with the idea you had. Put trackers on their cars. See if they ever go to the same place at the same time.”

“You’ll help me?”

“I don’t see that I’ve much choice,” she said. “What about the equipment? Do you have it?”

“Not yet,” said Nightingale. “But I know a man who can get it for me. Are you okay to get me in to see them?”

“Speckman and Carr? How do expect me to do that?”

“You’re a cop. Think of some reason you’d need to talk to them about an investigation. Say you need to check their car.”

“Without a warrant?”

“You spin them a story. Then while you’re talking to them I bug the cars.”

“And if we get caught?”

“We won’t.’

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. “I never thanked you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For saving my life.”

“I was thinking about myself, to be honest,” she said.

He shook his head. “It was coming for me,” he said. “It wouldn’t have harmed you.”

“What did you call it? An Elemental?”

Nightingale nodded.

“Have you come across something like that before?”

“Just the once.”

“That’s why you had a silver knife in your pocket?”

Nightingale nodded again.

“You might have warned me.”

“By saying what? That a weird cloud would materialize from nowhere and try to rip me apart? I’m sure you’d have invited me to a drink at the Blue Room after hearing that.” He leaned forward, picked up his mug of coffee and sipped it. “Amy, I need you to do something for me,” said Nightingale. “It’s important.”

“What?”

“I need you to go to the hotel to get my stuff.”

“Just leave it. You can buy anything you need. Today’s Saturday. I’ll go shopping with you.”

He shook his head. “If they get hold of any personal items, they can send another Elemental against me. And my washing stuff is in the bathroom – my toothbrush, my razor, my comb. Any one of those items would be perfect. I can’t go back, they’ll probably be watching the hotel now.”

Chen grimaced. “It’s four o’clock in the morning, Jack.”

“First thing, then. Eight o’clock, nine maybe. It’ll be better then because there’ll be more people around. You’ll stick out at this time of the morning.”

Chen thought about it for several seconds and then nodded. “I guess if I don’t there’s a chance one of those things will turn up here.” She shuddered. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa. I need to get some shut-eye.” She went to a cupboard and took out a pillow, sheets and a duvet. She gave them to him with a smile. “And if you use the bathroom, don’t go leaving the seat up. And be careful where you pee. I’ve had guys stay over before and it doesn’t always end well.”

“Thanks for this,” said Nightingale. “I owe you, big time.”

“Well, if I ever need a favor from an English gumshoe being hunted by demons from hell, I’ll be sure to call in that marker.” She flounced off to her bedroom.

“It wasn’t a demon from hell,” said Nightingale, to no one in particular.

He took out his cellphone and then remembered that he’d thrown away his
SIM
card.

He pushed himself off the sofa and went over to Chen’s bedroom door. He knocked on it softly. “Amy?”

“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’ve got a gun, remember?”

“I need to make a phone call and my phone is useless at the moment.”

The door opened and Chen glared at him. She had changed into a baggy t-shirt and running shorts. “Who are you planning to call at this time of the morning.”

“There’s a guy I know who can get the tracking equipment for me,” he said.

“At four o’clock in the morning?”

“I don’t think he sleeps much.”

“The sort of people you know, I don’t think I’d want them having my number.”

“I’ll withhold it,” he said. “And really, I’d trust this guy with my life.” He smiled thinly. “Actually, I already have done.”

Chen stared at him for several seconds, and then nodded. “Okay, but I want to hear every word you say.”

“Deal.”

Chen went back into her bedroom and reappeared a few seconds later with her cellphone. She set up the withhold number function before giving it to him. Nightingale tapped out the number from memory and put the phone to his ear. Wainwright answered almost immediately and he sounded wide awake. “Joshua, it’s Jack. I need help.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need a couple of vehicle tracking things.”

“LoJacks we call them,” said Wainwright.

“Yeah, well I need to be able to keep an eye on a couple of people.”

“Speckman and Carr?”

“Got it in one,” said Nightingale.

“I’ll get something to you later today,” said Wainwright. “I use a guy called Dragan. He’s from Serbia but he’s lived in Los Angeles for a while. You can trust him, but he’s not familiar with the Left Path so no talking about what you’re up to there, okay?”

“Understood.”

“How are things?”

“I’m making progress.”

“What’s wrong, Jack? You wouldn’t be calling me at this time of the morning if some particularly nasty shit hadn’t hit the fan.”

 “I’m using a friend’s phone, I’ll get a new Sim card tomorrow.”

“You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“But your friend is standing next to you?”

“That’s right?”

“Call me when you can.”

The line went dead and Nightingale handed the phone back to Chen. “Who was that?”

“A guy I work for.”

“I meant his name.”

“He prefers to keep a low profile.”

“I could just call him and ask him.”

“You could. But I wouldn’t.” He smiled. “Thanks for this, seriously.”

“For what?”

“For taking me in. For helping me. For not just turning me over to the cops.”

“The way I look at it, if I tell anyone what we’ve been through over the last few hours, they’ll take away my badge.” She shrugged. “You’ve still got some explaining to do, and that’s going to work better face to face.” She gestured at the sofa. “Now get some sleep, you look like shit.” She closed the door in his face.

“Yes ma’am,” he said to the door.

 

CHAPTER 43
 

Nightingale awoke to the smell of frying bacon. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa in his shirt and jeans. She grinned at him as he padded over to the kitchen area. She was still wearing her oversized t-shirt and running shorts. She’d tied back her long black hair with a pink scrunchie and looked terrific for someone who had had less than four hours sleep.

“Easy over okay?” she said, nodding at the eggs frying in a pan.

“Brilliant,” said Nightingale.

“Can you make the coffee? You pop a capsule in that machine there and press the button. If you want a cappuccino or a latte you use a milk capsule first.”

The coffee maker looked like a fax machine but after staring at it for a while Nightingale grasped the concept and within a couple of minutes had made two black coffees. Chen put eggs and bacon on plates. “No toast,” he said, “I’m cutting back on carbs.”

“How’s that working out for you?” They sat down at a counter and ate. “Last night, you were serious about Kent Speckman and Lucille Carr being part of this group? The Apostles?”

“Dead serious,” said Nightingale.

“I’m going to need convincing,” she said.

“When you get back from the hotel, I’ll show you some videos of Speckman. You’ve got a computer?”

“Of course, or I can access the internet through the TV,” said Chen. She laughed at the look of surprise that flashed across Nightingale’s face. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Jack. About the hotel. I’m guessing it’s best I go alone, right?”

Nightingale nodded and passed her his room keycard. “Room 624.”

“And you’re sure they’ll be watching?”

“Ninety-nine per cent sure. They’ve already broken into my car. There was nothing personal in the car so that’s not an issue.” He sipped his coffee. “The thing is, the watchers could be anyone, literally anyone. It’s not like they’re FBI and all you have to do is to look for a couple of earnest men in dark suits. It could be a teenager, it could be a mother, a postman, a cop, a student.”

“I get it, Jack.”

“Just be careful. Get in, get my stuff, and get out. When you leave, walk for a while to check that you’re not being followed. You’ll have your gun, right?”

She smiled sarcastically. “I never leave home without it.”

“You need to bring everything from the room,” he said. “Even a toothbrush would leave me vulnerable.”

“I get it,” she said. She finished off her eggs and bacon, drank the last of her coffee and stood up. “I’m not thrilled about you staying here on your own but I don’t see I have much choice,” she said.

“I promise not to snoop through your drawers,” he said.

“See now, until you said that the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” said Chen. “Maybe I should make you wait outside in the hallway.”

“I’ll be good, Amy. I promise.”

 

BOOK: San Francisco Night
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