San Francisco Night

by Stephen Leather

  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.”

  CHAPTER 40

  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 he
ad 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.”

  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.”