Nightshade

89

‘What did she mean, Jack? She wants you to kill her?’ They were in the Swan pub in Bayswater Road, around the corner from Nightingale’s flat.

‘You heard her,’ said Nightingale. They were sitting at a table outside so that Nightingale could smoke. He had his regular bottle of Corona and Robbie a double brandy. A propane heater hissed behind them.

‘I didn’t hear anything,’ said Robbie. ‘That plastic thing spelled out the message.’

‘The planchette.’

‘Whatever. Jack, I need you to swear that you weren’t pushing it.’

‘What?’

‘Swear to me on anything you believe that you weren’t pushing it.’

‘Are you insane? Why would I do that?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Robbie. He took a gulp of brandy. ‘I don’t know what to think at the moment.’

‘I didn’t push it. I swear to God, cross my heart and hope to die, but I’m amazed that you would even think that.’

‘What’s the alternative? That we were talking to a young girl who isn’t dead? And she’s asking you to kill her?’ He shook his head. ‘That’s fucked up, Jack. That’s fucked up big time.’

Nightingale blew smoke across the street. It was just after eight o’clock in the evening but the pavements were still busy. As always it was a cosmopolitan mix, and in the few minutes they’d been sitting there Nightingale had heard half a dozen languages being spoken.

‘She’s already dead,’ said Nightingale. ‘Bella Harper died in that house in Lyndhurst.’

‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. There’s news on that front. The woman has started to talk. She and Lucas have killed before, they’re taking her out to the New Forest next week to look for graves.’

Nightingale shuddered. ‘I hope she didn’t cut too good a deal,’ he said.

‘She’ll go down for a long time. No doubt about that.’

‘Yeah, well, Bella was one of their victims. They killed her, Robbie. When the cops moved into the house she was already dead.’

‘So why the message that she wants you to kill her?’

‘Not her. Her body. She’s already dead, but there’s a Shade in her body. She can’t move on until the Shade is killed.’

‘And you know how to do that?’

Nightingale nodded. ‘It’s been explained to me, yes.’

‘And are you going to do it?’

‘I think I have to.’

‘What do you have to do?’

Nightingale shook his head. ‘Seriously, mate, you don’t want to know.’ He took a wallet from his raincoat pocket and tossed it over to Robbie. Robbie caught it and opened it. ‘What’s this?’

‘The guy that belongs to tried to get me into a van yesterday.’

‘What?’

‘He was one of two guys that broke into my flat a while back. I think they were planning to kill me. Murder by suicide.’

Robbie slid the driving licence out and looked at it. ‘Lives in Berwick.’

‘Might have been a cop,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’m pretty sure they were the ones who killed my client.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Come on Robbie. Don’t you think it’s one hell of a coincidence? Danny McBride is found hanging in his brother’s barn and the guys who broke into my flat brought rope with them? I don’t think they were planning to go skipping with me, do you?’

‘And you fought them off? Since when did you turn into Chuck Norris?’

‘There wasn’t much fighting, truth be told,’ said Nightingale. ‘But if they’ve got any sense they’ll be on the lam already. Any news on that front?’

Robbie nodded. ‘There is a Met team looking at abuse in Berwick and north of the border. Operation Springboard. Half of the Operation Yewtree team have been moved over now that the Savile thing is coming to an end. They’re going to be moving in next week.’

‘And the stuff I sent?’

‘The paedophile unit handed it over to the Operation Springboard team. One of my mates has been seconded to the unit. They can’t work out how the email came from Stevenson’s computer but they’re not looking in the mouths of any gift horses. It’s going to be huge, Jack. Bloody huge. Some very big names are in the frame.’

‘They deserve everything they’ve got coming to them,’ said Nightingale.

‘Pity you won’t get any credit for it.’

Nightingale shrugged. ‘There’s no credit for anyone in all this,’ said Nightingale. ‘There’s something wrong with a society that allows this to happen. A lot of people have to turn a blind eye for organised abuse like that to take place. The world can be a sick place at times.’

‘You did a good thing, Jack,’ said Robbie. He leaned over and clinked his glass against Nightingale’s bottle.

Nightingale forced a smile. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess I did at that.’