him.
“That’s rather an unusual piece, Mr...er...”
“Jack. Yes, a gift from a friend,” replied Nightingale.
“It’s always hard to date a crystal, but the bag is very old, isn’t it?”
“I’m told so, yes.”
“You use it for healing?” she asked.
“No, it’s for divining. Thanks.”
He paid and left before the woman could ask any more questions
CHAPTER 22
Back at his hotel, Nightingale showered, twice, and slipped on the white cotton robe, before lighting his two white church candlesand taking out the crystal and Brother Gregory’s rosary. He placed the rosary on the floor, knelt down before it and said a prayer with the crystal between his palms. The prayer finished, he let the crystal swing free over the rosary as he repeated the name of Brother Gregory West over and over again. The crystal remained motionless. Nightingale took a deep breath, said another prayer and tried again as he visualized a pale blue light around his body. Still the crystal refused to move. Eventually he gave up – Brother Gregory was most certainly dead.
CHAPTER 23
Nightingale arrived at the Raw Bar at around eight. It was a large room, furnished in dark bare wood throughout, a long bar at one end, with doors to a kitchen on the left and the restrooms on the right. The remainder of the room was filled with tables and chairs, a couple of waitresses in white T-shirts and short black skirts threading their way between them with drink orders. There were around twenty people inside, mostly at the bar, but Nightingale sat at a table and ordered an Anchor.
He was halfway through his beer when Amy Chen walked in, flanked by two tallish guys in dark suits. Chen noticed him as she walked towards the bar, but a curt nod was all he rated. She and her colleagues ordered a pitcher of draft and took stools at the bar. They talked and laughed together. Chen had a sexy, throaty laugh which carried across the room.
Around ten minutes later, Chen picked up her glass, held up a hand to her colleagues and walked over to Nightingale’s table. “Not stalking me, are you?” she said.
He raised his glass. “You said you might be here, remember?”
“I remember.”
He waved at an empty chair. “Can we talk?”
“I guess so,” said Chen. She sat down. “You eaten?”
“Not yet, no.”
“How are you with oysters?”
Nightingale shrugged. “I’ll give them a go.”
Chen waved a waitress over. “Sue, bring us a dozen raw. And another Anchor.”
“You’re buying me dinner?” asked Nightingale.
“No, you’re picking up the tab,” said Chen.
“No problem,” said Nightingale.
The gun wasn’t on her hip and she caught him looking at the place where it had been. “I changed holsters,” she said. “Off duty it’s under the arm.” She pulled open her jacket to reveal the butt of her Glock.
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I’m a cop. That’s my job. So, you were a cop, before you were a private eye? I was right about you having a cop’s eyes?”
Nightingale nodded. “I was a beat cop for a while, walking around London in a pointy hat.”
“They really wear those? I thought that was just a tourist thing?”
“Only when you’re on foot,” he said. “They’d keep getting knocked off if you were in a car. Then I joined the armed response unit.”
“Yeah, I never understood why most of the British cops go out unarmed.”
Nightingale shrugged. “They call it policing by consent. The idea is that the public respect cops and do as they’re told.”
Chen laughed. “And how does that work?”
“In the good old days it worked just fine. These days, not so well. There isn’t the same respect that there used to be, and a lot more gangbangers carry guns.”
“So they should give all the cops guns too.”
“It’ll come,” said Nightingale. “But at the moment guns are only carried by Specialist Firearms Officers. That’s what I was. I carried a Glock and an
“That’s rather an unusual piece, Mr...er...”
“Jack. Yes, a gift from a friend,” replied Nightingale.
“It’s always hard to date a crystal, but the bag is very old, isn’t it?”
“I’m told so, yes.”
“You use it for healing?” she asked.
“No, it’s for divining. Thanks.”
He paid and left before the woman could ask any more questions
CHAPTER 22
Back at his hotel, Nightingale showered, twice, and slipped on the white cotton robe, before lighting his two white church candlesand taking out the crystal and Brother Gregory’s rosary. He placed the rosary on the floor, knelt down before it and said a prayer with the crystal between his palms. The prayer finished, he let the crystal swing free over the rosary as he repeated the name of Brother Gregory West over and over again. The crystal remained motionless. Nightingale took a deep breath, said another prayer and tried again as he visualized a pale blue light around his body. Still the crystal refused to move. Eventually he gave up – Brother Gregory was most certainly dead.
CHAPTER 23
Nightingale arrived at the Raw Bar at around eight. It was a large room, furnished in dark bare wood throughout, a long bar at one end, with doors to a kitchen on the left and the restrooms on the right. The remainder of the room was filled with tables and chairs, a couple of waitresses in white T-shirts and short black skirts threading their way between them with drink orders. There were around twenty people inside, mostly at the bar, but Nightingale sat at a table and ordered an Anchor.
He was halfway through his beer when Amy Chen walked in, flanked by two tallish guys in dark suits. Chen noticed him as she walked towards the bar, but a curt nod was all he rated. She and her colleagues ordered a pitcher of draft and took stools at the bar. They talked and laughed together. Chen had a sexy, throaty laugh which carried across the room.
Around ten minutes later, Chen picked up her glass, held up a hand to her colleagues and walked over to Nightingale’s table. “Not stalking me, are you?” she said.
He raised his glass. “You said you might be here, remember?”
“I remember.”
He waved at an empty chair. “Can we talk?”
“I guess so,” said Chen. She sat down. “You eaten?”
“Not yet, no.”
“How are you with oysters?”
Nightingale shrugged. “I’ll give them a go.”
Chen waved a waitress over. “Sue, bring us a dozen raw. And another Anchor.”
“You’re buying me dinner?” asked Nightingale.
“No, you’re picking up the tab,” said Chen.
“No problem,” said Nightingale.
The gun wasn’t on her hip and she caught him looking at the place where it had been. “I changed holsters,” she said. “Off duty it’s under the arm.” She pulled open her jacket to reveal the butt of her Glock.
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“I’m a cop. That’s my job. So, you were a cop, before you were a private eye? I was right about you having a cop’s eyes?”
Nightingale nodded. “I was a beat cop for a while, walking around London in a pointy hat.”
“They really wear those? I thought that was just a tourist thing?”
“Only when you’re on foot,” he said. “They’d keep getting knocked off if you were in a car. Then I joined the armed response unit.”
“Yeah, I never understood why most of the British cops go out unarmed.”
Nightingale shrugged. “They call it policing by consent. The idea is that the public respect cops and do as they’re told.”
Chen laughed. “And how does that work?”
“In the good old days it worked just fine. These days, not so well. There isn’t the same respect that there used to be, and a lot more gangbangers carry guns.”
“So they should give all the cops guns too.”
“It’ll come,” said Nightingale. “But at the moment guns are only carried by Specialist Firearms Officers. That’s what I was. I carried a Glock and an
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