Stephen Leather - Nightshade

‘I don’t know. But it came from your computer. That’s what I’m told.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Impossible or not, it happened. Look, I don’t see there’s anything you can do. They’ve got you bang to rights and they’ve got your mailing list. The only reason I’m tipping you off is that my name isn’t on that bloody list.’

‘Shit.’ Stevenson banged the receiver against his head.

‘I need to know you haven’t got my name anywhere they can find it.’

‘You’re okay,’ said Stevenson.

‘No number on your mobile? Nothing written down?’

‘You’re fine.’

‘For fuck’s sake keep it that way, Colin.’

‘I said, you’re fine,’ said Stevenson.

‘I fucking hope so,’ said the sergeant. ‘This is huge, Colin. You know the names that are on the list.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘What the hell were you doing keeping them on your computer?’

‘It’s a bit late to be crying about spilt milk,’ said Stevenson. ‘Do you have any idea who screwed me over?’

‘It came out of the blue, I’m told. And like I said, it came from your computer.’

‘I don’t see how that can have happened,’ said Stevenson. ‘No one else has access to my place.’

‘Yeah, well, seriously, I’m sorry it’s worked out this way,’ said the sergeant. ‘What are you going to do?’

Stevenson didn’t say anything.

‘Colin? Are you okay?’

Stevenson laughed harshly. ‘No, I’m not bloody okay. But I’ll sort it. And don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘You are stark raving mad,’ said Robbie, staring down at the Ouija board that Nightingale had placed on the table. ‘That’s for kids.’

‘It’s more than a kids’ game,’ said Nightingale, lighting three white candles on the mantelpiece. He went over to the window and pulled the blinds down.

‘If you wanted a romantic evening in, you should have had Jenny round,’ said Robbie.

‘First of all I don’t fool around with the staff, and second of all I wouldn’t want her near this.’

‘But I’m okay, right? What’s going on, Jack? I can see why you wouldn’t tell me over the phone, because I wouldn’t have come round if I’d known you were going to be messing around with spooky stuff.’

Robbie bent over the table and examined the Ouija board. It was made of cardboard that had frayed at the edges. The words YES and NO were printed in old-fashioned letters in the top corners, and below them were the letters of the alphabet in two rows, and below them the numbers zero to nine.

At the bottom of the board, in capital letters, was the word GOODBYE.

‘Where did you get this from?’ asked Robbie.

‘A junk shop in Portobello Road. It’s from the sixties.’

‘What’s the plan? Chat with Jim Morrison?’

Nightingale walked around the room lighting another half a dozen candles.

‘Bella Harper.’

Robbie’s jaw dropped. ‘Tell me that’s a sick joke.’

‘If she’s dead then there’s a chance I can communicate with her.’

Robbie picked up the grubby white planchette. ‘With a piece of cheap plastic? You don’t believe in this nonsense, do you?’

‘The Ouija board works,’ said Nightingale. ‘Plastic, wood or twenty-four-carat gold, none of that makes any difference. It’s about channelling. And believing.’

‘But I don’t believe, Jack.’

‘No, but I do. You’re here for balance.’

‘Balance?’

‘There have to be at least two people on the planchette. It won’t work with one.’ He finished lighting the candles and went through to the kitchen, returning with a crystal vase of fresh flowers and a crystal glass of distilled water. He put them on the coffee table, above the board. Then he went over to his bookcase and picked up a Hamleys carrier bag. He took out a small Paddington bear and placed it between the flowers and the glass of water. He grinned at the look of confusion on Robbie’s face. ‘Spirits generally like fresh flowers, and I figured that as Bella’s a kid she might like the bear.’

Robbie sat down on the sofa, shaking his head. ‘You’re mad,’ he said.

‘Sit down at the table, mate,’ said Nightingale, gesturing at one of the two wooden chairs he’d put there. He went back to the kitchen and came back with a tray on which were three small brass bowls containing sage, lavender and consecrated salt, courtesy of Mrs Steadman.

Robbie was sitting at the table, toying with the planchette. Nightingale put the bowls on the table, then lit five large white church candles and placed them around the board. He took the planchette from Robbie and put it on the board, between YES and NO.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started.’ He sprinkled liberal amounts of sage over the burning candles. The herb flared and sizzled and gave off a sweet aroma. Then he rubbed some of the herb over the planchette and around the edge of the board.

‘You’re a right Jamie Oliver, aren’t you?’ joked Robbie, but Nightingale flashed him a warning look. He sprinkled salt and lavender over the board, then put the brass bowls on a bookshelf.

He sat down next to Robbie. ‘Seriously mate, don’t screw around. I realise you don’t believe in it, but any negative energy will spoil it. So only think positive thoughts.’

Robbie nodded. ‘Okay.’

Nightingale held out his hands. ‘Hold my hands and close your eyes.’

Robbie opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind and did as he’d been told. Nightingale squeezed Robbie’s hands, closed his eyes and began to speak in a loud, authoritative voice. ‘In the name of God, of Jesus Christ, of the Great Brotherhood of Light, of the Archangels Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel and Ariel, please protect us from the forces of evil during this session. Let there be nothing but light surrounding this board and its participants and let us only communicate with powers and entities of the light. Protect us, protect this house, the people in this house, and let there only be light and nothing but light, amen.’

He waited for Robbie to say ‘Amen’ but when he didn’t he squeezed his hands.

Robbie got the message. ‘Amen,’ he said.

‘Okay, you can open your eyes now,’ said Nightingale. Robbie did as he was told. ‘Okay, now you have to imagine that the table is protected with a bright white light. First you imagine it coming down through the top of your head and completely surrounding your body. Then push it out as far as you can go. Do you understand?’

‘A white light?’

‘As bright as you can imagine. Like a white fluorescent light. Try to picture it coming from the ceiling, down through the top of your head and then dispersing through your body. And as you do that, we both put our right hands on the planchette.’

‘Okay,’ said Robbie, but Nightingale could hear the uncertainty in his friend’s voice.

‘One thing. If anything goes wrong we slide the planchette to GOODBYE and we both say “Goodbye” in a loud, firm voice and then I’ll say a closing prayer.’

‘Do you want to spell out what you mean by “go wrong” or shall I just leave that to my imagination?’

‘The Ouija board is a conduit to the other side,’ said Nightingale. ‘Just because I’m asking to talk with Bella doesn’t mean that she’ll come through. And there are evil and mischievous spirits out there. But don’t worry, they can’t do any harm through the board.’

‘That’s good to know.’

Nightingale nodded. ‘Okay, so start to visualize the light and put your hand on the planchette.’

The two men concentrated and reached out to touch the plastic planchette.

Nightingale took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. ‘We’re here to talk to Bella Harper,’ he said. ‘Bella Harper, please come forward. We are here in the light, safe from the dark.’