San Francisco Night Read Free

priest, he’s listed as missing from a retirement home, but my contact never mentioned him. The girl, Mills, was a theology student and sang in a church choir. Once I got the idea from her and the nun, we ran a search on missing religious figures. That’s the one we found. Wouldn’t surprise me if they’d gotten him too.”
    “What about the bodies?”
    “Disposed of. So the cops aren’t looking for killers.”
    “Who’s your contact?”
    “Guy called Lee Mitchell.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “I wish I knew. He phoned me, all in a panic. Now he’s disappeared.”
    “And this group, the Apostles? What’s their story?”
    “They use the names of Christ’s disciples. Except their leader.”
    “Surely not Jesus?”
    “No. The leader’s called Abaddon. She’s a woman but that’s all he knows. He hasn’t seen her face. Abaddon is an ancient name for the Angel Of Death. Mitchell was given the name of Simon. Each of the Apostles, as their initiation, needs to find and sacrifice a Christian. So there will be twelve killings in all.”
    Nightingale stubbed out what was left of his cigarette. “Human sacrifice seems a little extreme. Is it normal in your world?” Nightingale knew of Wainwright’s reputation as a powerful Satanist, though he’d never seen any evidence of it. Or wanted to. 
    Wainwright took a long drag on his cigar and shrugged. “Not so much these days. Shedding blood is a very powerful charm and it’s necessary in many advanced rituals, but usually a chicken, maybe a goat. Sacrificing a human within a circle stores up immense power for the members of that coven. Looks like these guys are into it big time, and that’s way too much power for people to have.”
    “And what do you want me to do?”
    “I want to stop them before anyone discovers there is a Satanic link to the killings,” said Wainwright. “I don’t want Satanism splashed across the papers.”
    “Giving you a bad name?”
    “Satanism is best left where it belongs, in the shadows,” said Wainwright. “You know where the word ‘occult’ comes from?”
    Nightingale shook his head.
    “From the Latin, occultus. It means hidden. That’s how it’s meant to be, hidden from view. Look, Jack. These people aren’t just some street gang. And I don’t think they plan to stop at ritual killings. I don’t like this Biblical connection either, whatever Abaddon has in mind could well make the group far too powerful, and maybe a lot more people end up dead. Maybe they’re even trying something that could do real damage.”
    “So why am I on the case? To protect you or to stop something bad happening?”
    Wainwright pulled on his cigar as he studied Nightingale with amused eyes. “Does it matter?” he asked eventually.
    Nightingale shrugged. “I guess not.” He put down the sheets of paper and lit another cigarette. “So do you have any idea who this woman might be?”
    “Told you before, Jack. Chefs don’t share their recipes with other chefs, and people in my world guard our secrets jealously.”
    “What do you think she’s planning?” asked Nightingale. “What is this bad thing?”
    “I don’t know. That’s what I want you to find out.” He gestured at the sheets of paper. “Find out about these three people, find out if there are any more missing. Track down the Apostles. Stop them.”
    “Stop them how?”
    “Anyway you need to.”
    Nightingale blew a smoke ring. “I’m not an assassin, Joshua.”
    “Just find out what’s happening then. And report back to me. We can cross the T’s and dot the I’s later. See if you can track down where the ceremonies are being held.”
    “San Francisco is a big city.”
     “They blindfolded Mitchell since he wasn’t a full member. Made him leave his car twenty minutes away, then drove him. It’s a mansion, within twenty minutes drive, but he never saw the outside. With a crypt or a chapel built on, or maybe in the grounds.”
    “And you know where this Mitchell