San Francisco Night (29 page)

Nightingale held the door open for Dragan. “You’re sure about this?” asked Dragan. The woman was now sitting in the chair that he’d been tied to, and this time it her turn to be duct-taped and gagged. “I can take her away, dump her somewhere.”

“I need her to answer some questions,” said Nightingale. “Best you’re not here for that.”

Dragan’s colleague went into the corridor and headed for the elevator.

“Thanks, by the way,’ said Nightingale. “You saved my bacon.”

“It’s all part of the service,” said Dragan. “The cops being with her seemed strange, then they all came up to this floor together. A few minutes later the cops left. I called your cellphone but there was no answer. I didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to work out that something was going on.”

“I owe you, that’s for sure.”

“No problem. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Dragan followed his colleague to the elevator and Nightingale closed the door. Chen went through the woman’s handbag. She found a purse and inside it a California driving license. “Claudia Wolfe,” said Chen. “Fifty-five years old. Address in Alameda.”

Nightingale took the license from her and looked at it. “That’s your real name, Claudia?” he asked her. He removed her gag and repeated the question.

She didn’t answer.

“I’m guessing you’re not Abaddon,” said Nightingale, handing the license back to Chen. “But you’re an Apostle, right?”

“Let’s just call this in, Jack,” said Chen.

Wolfe smiled sweetly up at her. “And tell them what, dear? That a nice sweet lady like me is going around the city killing and torturing people. On the basis of what?”

Nightingale picked up the shears and waved them in front of the woman’s face. “Do you know what tool marks are, Claudia? They’re the marks that tools leave behind. On bone and flesh. They can be as identifying as fingerprints. And you left one hell of a lot of marks on Mitchell and Dukas, didn’t you? I think the cops won’t have any problems linking them to these. And to you.”

“You’re out of your depth, Nightingale,” she said, and smiled. “So far out of your depth but you don’t know it.”

“So you know me?”

“I know of you. Of course.”

“Where are the children, Claudia?  Brett Michaels and Sharonda Parker?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said.

“The Elms, right?”

Her face tightened but she said nothing.

“Yeah. The Elms. That’s where they’re going to be killed, isn’t it. Tonight. The night of the blue moon.”

“Sounds like you know all there is to know, Mr. Nightingale. So why don’t you untie me and I’ll be on my way?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Nightingale. “My money is you being one of the Apostles and that means that without you the ritual tonight can’t go ahead.”

She laughed, showing yellowed teeth and inflamed gums. “You understand nothing,” she said. “Yes, I’m an Apostle. And I have made my sacrifice. All twelve of us have. My power is already stored within the circle. There is no need for all of us to be present at the final ritual. In fact only Abaddon needs to be there. The more the merrier, of course. But you can keep me here as long as you want. It will change nothing.”

“And what happens when the ritual is complete?” asked Nightingale.

“Then I get my reward. We all do. We will reign.”

“Your reward? From Bimoleth.”

Her face hardened. She continued to glare at him with undisguised hatred but her mouth stayed firmly closed.

“If Bimoleth is summoned and allowed to walk the earth, do you think he’ll care about you? You expect a demon to show gratitude?”

The woman said nothing.

“You’re playing with fire. All of you.”

The woman looked away.

“She’s not going to help us, Jack,” said Chen. “We have to call in Homicide.”

“She won’t say anything. And the clock’s ticking.”

“We can show them the shears, like you said. They can tie her in with the other killings.”

“We need the cops to go into The Elms, remember? Is she enough to get us a search warrant?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“There you go then. We have to make her cooperate.”

“What’s the plan? Torture her? Because I’ll tell you now, Jack, that’s not going to happen.”

Nightingale picked up his phone and called Wainwright. He explained what had happened and that he needed help. “I thought of trying to force her to talk, but I’ve got the feeling it won’t do any good.”

“You’re probably right. Adepts can resist pain to an amazing degree.”

“You should teach me that some time.”

“Maybe I will,” said Wainwright. “Okay, give her the phone.”

“Her hands are tied and I’m reluctant to untie her. She’s a nasty piece of work.” The woman glared up at him and he flashed her a sarcastic smile.

“Put the phone to her ear,” said Wainwright.

“Okay.” Nightingale did as he was told.

The woman scowled. “You’re wasting your time,” she said. “Just do whatever you have to do and get on with it. Kill me or call the police or let me go, it’s all the same to me.” She listened and the scowl slowly left her face. “You’re wasting your time,” she said into the phone, but her voice was softer this time, less threatening. Chen looked over at Nightingale wondering what was happening, but he just shrugged. “You’re wasting your time,” said the woman, her voice barely a whisper. The frown had gone and now she was staring vacantly into space. She listened in silence for a full minute and then slowly lifted her face to look at Nightingale. “He wants to speak to you now,” she said softly.

Nightingale put the phone to his ear. “Right, she’ll do whatever you tell her to from now on,” said Wainwright. “You can ask her to do anything, just about. And she’ll answer any questions you put to her. Keep your voice low and don’t make any sudden sounds near her.”

“What have you done, Joshua?”

“One of many tricks in my arsenal,” said Wainwright.

“Hypnosis?”

“Mind control would be a better description, but it’s tied in with the black arts. I’ll show you some time when we’re less pressed, maybe. The one problem is, I don’t know how long it’ll last with me not being there. A couple of hours, maybe.”

“Hopefully that’ll be long enough,” said Nightingale, ending the call. He looked over at Chen. “She’ll do anything we say, apparently.”

“Seriously?”

“Give it a go.”

Chen looked down at the woman. “Where are the children?

“The Elms,” said the woman, her face blank.

“Where exactly?”

“I don’t know. Hidden.”

“What about the ceremony tonight? Where will that be?” asked Nightingale.

“In the temple,” she said. “Where we carry out all the Sabbats.”

“What time?”

“Midnight.”

“And what time are you supposed to be there?”

“Eleven o’clock. I have to help ready the temple.”

“Are you one of the Apostles?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“They call me Judas.”

Nightingale went over to Chen and stood with his back to Wolfe. “We can use her to get inside the mansion, you realize that?”

“How can you be sure she isn’t faking it?”

“You saw the way she changed after speaking to Wainwright. She’ll do exactly as we say. We can tell her to take us there in her car.” He turned to face Wolfe. “Where is your car?”

“Down the road, a short walk away,” she said.

“What is it? What type?”

“A white Lexus.”

Nightingale turned back to Chen. “She’s not faking it, Amy. The one snag is that Wainwright isn’t sure how long it lasts for. But I can call him every couple of hours and get him to top up whatever it is he does.”

He went over Wolfe’s handbag and took out her cellphone. He took it over to her. “Claudia, who sent you here?” he asked.

“Abaddon,” she said.

“What’s Abaddon’s real name? Who is she?”

Wolfe frowned. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

“What’s her name, Claudia?”

Wolfe began to tremble.

“What’s happening?” asked Chen.

“I think something’s blocking her,” said Nightingale. “She’s trying to tell us but she can’t. I’m guessing that Abaddon has done some mind control thing to stop Wolfe talking about her.” Nightingale scrolled through her contacts list.  There was no listing for an Abaddon. “Claudia, where’s Abaddon’s number?” asked Nightingale.

“It’s listed as ICE. In Case of Emergency.”

Nightingale found ICE. “Now listen to me, Claudia. You are going to talk to Abaddon and say that you have killed me and Inspector Chen. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“It was Abaddon who wanted to know if I had the Grimoire?”

“Yes.”

“Then you say that I didn’t have the book. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure about this?” Chen asked Nightingale. “She could warn them.”

“I think she’s well under,” said Nightingale. “I don’t know how long it’ll stay this way, but I don’t think she has any free will at the moment.” He picked up the shears and pressed the point against the woman’s neck. She didn’t flinch, and there was no reaction as Nightingale pressed harder.

“Jack!” said Chen.

Nightingale took away the shears. Wolfe sat placidly, staring straight ahead. “I think we’re okay,” he said. He put the shears on the table and pressed the button to call the ICE number. “Say it’s done. Say we are both dead.  Say you’ll be at The Elms tonight. At ten. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Nightingale put the call on the speaker and held the phone close to her mouth. “It’s done,” she said, once Abaddon answered. “They are dead.”

“Did he have the book?”

“No. I will see you at eleven o’clock.”

Nightingale ended the call before Abaddon could ask her any questions. He straightened up and looked at Chen. “What do you think?”

“Short and sweet.”

“I couldn’t risk her asking any questions. If there’s a problem, she’ll call back.”

They waited for more than a minute before Nightingale put the phone down on the table. “Looks like we’re in the clear,” he said.

“But now what, Jack? She gets us inside the mansion? What do we do then?”

“We wing it,” said Nightingale. “But first I’ve got to purify myself. You should probably do the same.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

“It’ll be fine,” said Nightingale. “Trust me.”

At 8pm, Nightingale decided it was time to carry out the Ritual of Purification. He collected the bag of items he had purchased from the Pagan World store and asked Chen if he could use her bathroom.

“What’s wrong with the guest bathroom?” she asked.

“I need a bath.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “I’m actually quite impressed by your standard of hygiene.”

Nightingale showed her the bag. “I need to lie down in a bath,” he said. “A shower won’t cut it.”

“What is that?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” he said.

Claudia Wolfe was still tied to the chair. She sat passively, her face a blank mask. Wainwright had spoken to her at seven o’clock and Nightingale was planning one last phone call at nine, just before they left.

Chen followed Nightingale into her bedroom and watched as he removed the items he had purchased and laid them out on the bed.

“So it’s like a spa treatment?” she said, picking up a bag of herbs and sniffing it.

“Sort of, but there’s a bit more to it.”

She picked up a twig and frowned. “And this?”

“A laurel branch. It’s good for protection. Grand Prix winners get wreaths made of it.”

“Seriously? You believe in this?”

He took the branch from her and put it on the bed. “It doesn’t matter whether you believe or not,” he said. “What matters is whether it works or not.”  He took four lemons from the bag.

“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade?”

“It’s for cleaning your hair,” he said. “Most shampoos have chemical impurities that can leave you vulnerable. So we’ll be using lemons.”

“We?”

“You need to do this as well, Amy.”

“I’m starting to think this is just a con so that you get to see me naked.”

Nightingale laughed. “We’ll be doing it separately,” he said. “The Ritual of Purification is never a group activity.” He picked up a small pack of blessed wafers and showed them to her, along with a bottle of Holy Water. “I’ll talk you through it, don’t worry. It takes about half an hour. After you’re done you have to put on totally clean clothes, ideally ones that you haven’t worn before.”

“I’ve got some stuff I bought in the January sales that I haven’t worn yet.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll get started while you babysit Claudia.”

Chen closed the door and Nightingale stripped off his clothes. He showered first, then cleaned under his finger and toenails with a new nailbrush. He washed his hair in pure lemon juice. He dried himself with a clean towel, then placed a church candle at each corner of the room and lit them, then sprinkled half the large bag of herbs into the empty bath.

He got into the bath on top of the herbs and lay down. He said six sentences in Latin, then turned on the hot tap. He added just enough cold water to make it bearable, and lay flat as the water covered him up to his shoulders, his chest, his chin and finally over his face. As soon as the water covered his nose and mouth, he folded his arms in the sign of Osiris slain, then opened them and held up his hands in the sign of Osiris risen.

He sat bolt upright in the bath and made the obeisance of Set, a series of complex hand gestures. He pulled out the plug and let the water drain away completely, before getting out of the bath and letting himself drip dry over the next fifteen minutes. Finally he rubbed a laurel branch over his entire body, then sealed the nine orifices of his body with holy water, placed a blessed communion wafer on his tongue, and spoke two more sentences in Latin. He examined himself in the mirror then dressed in new Levis and a brand new polo shirt. The Ritual of Purification was complete.

He went back into the main room to tell Chen what she needed to do.