San Francisco Night

by Stephen Leather

  It was a good point, Nightingale realized. Wolfe was quiet and obedient, but her reactions did seem to be dulled. “Maybe you could take the wheel until we’re close to the house?” he suggested. He gave her the keys.

  The Lexus was parked in front of a delicatessen that had shut for the night. Chen opened the doors and climbed into the driver’s seat. Nightingale helped Wolfe into the front passenger seat and leaned over to fasten her seat belt. Wolfe sat meekly with her hands in her lap.

  Dragan was parked on the other side of the road in a black SUV. “Give me a minute,” said Nightingale. He went over to Dragan’s car. The window wound down and Dragan passed him a gun that was so small it looked like a toy, especially in Dragan’s massive gloved hand. “It’s a Beretta Storm,” said Dragan.

  “A subcompact, nice,” said Nightingale. He ejected the clip and examined the rounds. “Nine mill. Any extra rounds?”

  “Just what you have there,” said Dragan.

  The gun was a little over six inches long and weighted about twenty-six ounces. Nightingale doubted that it would be accurate beyond twelve feet or so but it was easy to carry and would do the job. “Thanks,” said Nightingale, applying the safety and slipping the weapon into his coat pocket.

  “It’s been on the streets for a year or so and the guy who gave it to me doesn’t know if or when or how it was used,” said Dragan. “For all we know that gun could have killed half a dozen people anywhere in the country. You need to know that, Jack. You get caught with that, there’s no saying what’ll happen.”

  “I didn’t get it from you,” said Nightingale.

  “Damn right. Just be aware, it could mean a whole shit-load of trouble for you.”

  “Have you spoken to Wainwright?”

  “He pays my wages.”

  “No problem. But he was okay?”

  “He said to give you whatever you want.”

  “You haven’t asked me what’s going on.”

  Dragan shrugged. “Like I said, he pays my wages.”

  “You really are the strong silent type.”

  Dragan smiled despite himself. “I do my best.”

  “How much has Wainwright told you?”

  “Just that I’m to protect you and offer you any support you need.”

  Nightingale looked across at the Lexus, where Chen was watching him anxiously. “You know The Elms, the mansion I’ve been to?”

  Dragan nodded. “Sure. Those kids own it, the singers.”

  “You a fan, Dragan?”

  “My kids are.”

  “That woman over there, the one that was about to cut off Amy’s finger when you burst in, she’s our key to getting inside. They’re going to kill a couple of kids tonight. Inspector Chen and I plan to stop them.”

  “Well good luck with that.”

  “I’m serious, Dragan.”

  “So am I.”

  “How much help can you give me?”

  “How much do you need?”

  That was a good question, Nightingale realized, and one that he hadn’t really thought through. Wainwright had made it clear that Dragan wasn’t aware of the Satanic aspect of what was going on, which made asking for help difficult. “I could do with you watching my back.”

  “You need me to go inside with you?”

  “I don’t think that’s an option. But if you could stay by the phone, I’d appreciate it. There’s a chance you might be able to get up the cliff face, get in the back way.”

  “It’d be a hell of a climb,’ said Dragan.

  “There’s a path. Steep, but it’s there.”

  “You’ve had a look?”

  Nightingale nodded. “From the beach. But I’ve no idea what’s at the top. For all I know there could be a fence or guards or both. And probably CCTV, they’ve got cameras everywhere.” He shrugged. “To be honest, the more I think about it, the more unlikely it is. I can’t see them leaving a back way in, not with all the security at the front.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” said Dragan. “I’ll send a guy to check. These kids. That’d be Brett Michaels and Sharonda Parker?”

  Nightingale nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And you can’t just call the cops?’ He gestured over at Chen. “They’d take her seriously. Her being a detective and all.”

  “It’s complicated,” said Nightingale.

  CHAPTER 87

  Chen drove the Lexus to The Elms but stopped about half a mile away. She got out and helped Wolfe around the car and into the driving seat. “You need to get into the back with me,” said Nightingale. “We need to be hidden when we get to the gate.”

  “Jack, this could all go badly wrong,” she said. “She could crash the car, anything could happen.”

  “We’ve no choice, Amy. If they see anyone else in the car they won’t let us in.”

  Chen climbed into the back with him and pulled the door closed. “Jack, this isn’t going to work. The guards in the guardhouse will see us. We’ll have to drive right past them.”

  “We can get a blanket or something to cover ourselves.”

  “That won’t work.”

  Mrs. Wolfe sat patiently in the driver’s seat, her tiny hands on the steering wheel.

  “We’re going to have to get into the trunk,” said Nightingale eventually.

  “Excuse me?”

  “They won’t search the car. But they will look in through the windows, you’re right. So we get into the trunk and she drives us in that way.”

  “She’s a killer, Jack. And you want to have her lock us in the trunk?”

  “We can keep it open. We can hold it down. And at the end of the day, we’ve got guns and she hasn’t.” He could see from the look on her face that she wasn’t convinced. “It’ll be a couple of minutes at most. And you can see the state she’s in, she’s done everything we’ve asked her from the moment Wainwright spoke to her.”

  “I think you’re mad.”

  “It’s the only way to get inside, Amy. And if we don’t get inside, those kids will die.”

  CHAPTER 88

  Nightingale felt the Lexus turn to the left. “Here we go,” he whispered to Chen. They were lying curled up in the trunk. Nightingale had his hand on the catch, keeping the trunk door closed but not locked. Chen’s head was at the other side of the trunk, facing the rear with her hand close to the butt of her gun. Nightingale hated confined spaces and he focused on breathing slowly and evenly. He had spoken to Wolfe for more than a minute before he was satisfied that she knew exactly what to do: drive through the gates, past the guardhouse, find somewhere to park where they couldn’t be seen, and switch off the engine. She seemed to understand.

  “I’m hating this,” whispered Chen.

  “You and me both,” said Nightingale.

  The car slowed and stopped and they heard a grating sound as the main gates opened. The car moved ahead again but then stopped abruptly. The car shuddered and the trunk clicked shut. Nightingale cursed under his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” whispered Chen.

  “Nothing.”

  “Did the trunk just lock?”

  “It’ll be okay,” whispered Nightingale.

  “How will it be okay?” whispered Chen. “We’re locked in.”

  They heard muffled voices and the car began to move again. Nightingale’s heart was pounding. Chen was right; they were trapped.

  The car drove for almost thirty seconds, then turned to the left, then shortly afterward turned to the right. Then they stopped. “It’s okay, she’s doing exactly what we told her to do,” said Nightingale. The engine cut out.

  “Now what?” whispered Chen.

  “Now she’ll just sit there,” said Nightingale. “Claudia can you hear me?” His voice echoed around the confines of the trunk. They strained to listen but didn’t hear a response.

  “I suppose you could shoot out the lock,” said Nightingale.

  “Oh, I can see that working,” said Chen.

  “I was joking,” said
Nightingale. “Trying to lighten the moment.”

  “I’d be happier if you’d try shouting louder,” said Chen. “Because at the moment she’s our only way out of here.”

  CHAPTER 89

  Nightingale took a deep breath. “Claudia, open the trunk!” he shouted at the top of this voice. He listened, but heard nothing.

  “Have you tried pushing it?” asked Chen.

  “Yes,” he said tersely. He groped in his pocket and pulled out the silver penknife. He managed to get it open and was just about to insert the blade into the lock when the trunk sprang open. Claudia Wolfe was standing there, her face blank. Nightingale rolled out of the trunk and helped Chen up.

  “Where do you go from here?” Nightingale asked Wolfe. “How do you get ready for the Sabbat?”

  She pointed at a door. “The changing room is through there, down the corridor. Only one person is to go in at a time. There is a switch. When you are changing, you put the switch on and there’s a red light outside the door. If the red light is on, you mustn’t go in.”

  Nightingale looked across at Chen. “We’re going to have to hurry, there’ll be others arriving shortly.”

  “What’s your plan, Jack?”

  “You’re not too different from her, size-wise. Under a robe and mask, no one will know.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not sure. There’ll be twelve Apostles and Abaddon. Let’s hope no one does a head count.” He put his hand on Wolfe’s shoulder. “Claudia, I need you to climb in the trunk and lie down.”

  Wolfe did as she was told. Nightingale helped her in and she meekly lay down and curled into a foetal ball.

  “Now I need you to close your eyes and go to sleep, Claudia.”

  The woman’s eyes closed.

  “Are you serious? You’re going to lock in the trunk?” asked Chen.

  “Can you think of a better idea to keep her out of the way?”

  “She could suffocate.”

  “Trunks aren’t airtight. And she’s tiny. She’ll be fine.” He looked down at the woman. “You’ll be fine, won’t you, Claudia?”

  “Yes.”

  “See?” He slammed the trunk shut. “Now come on before anyone else arrives.”

  CHAPTER 90

  Brett’s courage had run out. He knew he would never be going home, and he couldn’t be bothered going along with the woman’s lies when she came to take him upstairs. He knew she was lying but he didn’t care anymore. He just let her take him by the hand and lead him up the stairs.

  She took him to a bathroom where water was already running into a big tub. “Get into the bath, Brett,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You’re a stranger. Mummy says I shouldn’t take my clothes off in front of strangers.”

  She bent down and slapped him hard across the face. “Do as you’re told!” she shouted at him.

  Tears sprang from his eyes and he took off his shirt. There was a livid red mark on his left cheek, clearly showing the imprint of her hand.

  “Bloody kids, why can’t you just do as you’re told,” she muttered as she picked up an earthenware jar containing a mixture of herbs. She poured the contents into the water and stirred it with her hand. The boy was staring at her, wide-eyed, holding his shirt up to his neck. “Get a move on, we don’t have all day,” she said.

  He hesitated and she raised her hand again. “I swear I’ll knock the shit out of you,” she said.

  “I know you,” he said. “You’re Suzy Brook. I’ve seen your videos. You’re famous.”

  “Yeah, I’m famous. Now get your trousers off and get into the bath or I’ll really lose my temper.”

  Tears ran down the boy’s cheeks but he did as the woman said.

  CHAPTER 91

  Nightingale and Chen walked slowly down the paneled corridor towards a single oak door. Above it was a red light bulb, but it was off. Chen’s hand was hovering over the butt of her gun. Nightingale reached for the handle and pushed the door slowly. It opened, as Wolfe had said, into a changing room. It was paneled like the corridor, with a line of large black metal lockers to the left and to the right a run of hooks hanging from which were black Satanic robes and masks. At the far end was another door.

  They slipped inside and closed the door behind them. The room was illuminated by a dozen large black candles. There was a light switch to the left of the door. Nightingale flicked it on, then opened the door to check that the red light had come on. It had. He closed the door again. Chen was examining the robes and masks. “One size fits all, by the look of it,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  “You put on a robe and mask and pass yourself off as Claudia Wolfe. You’re not far off her size.”

  “And if they talk to me? What then? I sure as hell don’t sound like her.”

  “The mask will muffle your voice.”

  “And what about you? If you robe up then there’ll be one Apostle too many.”

  Nightingale grimaced. She was right. “Okay, Plan B,” he said. “We wait for the next Apostle to arrive. We overpower whoever it is, shove him in one of the lockers and I take their place. We find the kids, we call the cops.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Amy, we’re in the house. That was the hard part.” He flicked the light switch off and motioned for her to stand behind the door.

  CHAPTER 92

  They stood in silence for almost ten minutes before the door opened silently. The candles flickered as a draft blew in from the corridor. Chen was standing behind Nightingale and he felt her stiffen. He was holding the barrel of his gun in his right hand and he held it high as the figure walked into the room. It was a man, medium build with dark hair. The man stepped into the room, his back to Nightingale. As he turned to close the door he spotted Nightingale and opened his mouth to shout but Nightingale slammed the gun against his temple and he went down without a sound. Nightingale caught him as he fell and lowered him to the ground as Chen closed the door and flicked the light switch to illuminate the red bulb.

  “Cuffs,” said Nightingale, holding out his hands.

  Chen gave him her handcuffs and he pulled the man’s arms behind his back and cuffed him.

  “We need something to gag him with,” said Nightingale.

  Chen looked around. “We could take a belt from one of the robes.”

  “It might be noticed,” said Nightingale. “Are you wearing tights?”

  “Tights?”

  He pointed at her legs.

  “You mean pantyhose? Yes.” She realized what he was getting at, kicked off her shoes and turned her back on him while she pulled them off. Nightingale used them to gag the man. “Help me get him into a locker,” said Nightingale. They dragged him over to the lockers and Nightingale held the man up as Chen opened one. The both forced the unconscious man inside and banged the door shut. There was a key attached to a small black rubber wristband. Chen locked the locker and slid the band onto her wrist. “I hope he can breathe in there,” she said.

  “I don’t care either way,” said Nightingale.

  They pulled on robes. Chen put her mask on. It was long and pointed with small holes for the eyes, hiding her head completely. On the back was an inverted pentagram, a match to the one on the front of her robe. “What do you think?’ she asked.

  “No one will know it’s not her,” said Nightingale. “And the voice is muffled. You might try lowering it a bit, but the best option is to avoid speaking.”

  “Says the man with the English accent,” she said.

  “Trust me, I don’t plan on saying a word,” he said. “Look, I’ll go first. We don’t know what’s on the other side of that door so we can’t exit together. I’ll go, you give it five minutes and then switch off the red light and follow me.”

  “Okay.” She sounded scared and Nightingale flashed her what he hoped was a confident smile.

  “You’ve got your gun, Amy. They’re not expecting us. This is going to work out just fine.”

 
; She nodded. “I hope so.” The uncertainty was still her voice. Nightingale pulled on a mask, adjusted it so that he could see through the eyeholes, and opened the door.

  CHAPTER 93

  The door opened into another corridor, also wood-paneled and lit by black candles. There were framed oil paintings on the wall, scenes of torture and dismemberment that seemed to come to life whenever Nightingale focused on them. It was the effects of the flickering candlelight he told himself and forced himself to stare straight ahead at the double doors ahead of him. There were two handles and he grabbed them with both hands. The doors opened towards him to reveal a large room that looked as if it had once been a private chapel. At the far end of the room was a stained glass window that at first glance could have been from a church but as he stared at it he realized that there main figure had horns and a tail and the only crucifix in the scene was upside down.

  Nightingale pulled the doors shut. The walls were bare stone and the ceiling was timbered with black wood. In the center of the room stood a huge black marble table, and at the far end was a stone altar with a giant inverted crucifix hanging over it. The table was in the center of a magik circle, with triangular points radiating from it at the eight cardinal points of the compass. Each point held a painted symbol and the circle itself had symbols every forty-five degrees. The table stood in the exact centre of the circle, running north-south. Four robed figures were busying themselves at the table, adjusting a set of thin chains that Nightingale figured would be used to hold down the children. There were small black candles burning in brass holders set into the wall, and bigger candles in the corners of the temple and at the four cardinal points of the circle there was a rough wooden table to his left and on it was a selection of musical instruments including tambourines, various rattles, drums and a lute. Another Apostle was standing at the altar using a black cloth to polish the various items that were displayed there – a knife, a sword, and two ornate brass bowls. There were upturned crucifixes at either end of the altar.