return, Jack. The Order goes to a lot of trouble to maintain a low profile, so who told you about us?’
‘A friend.’
‘An informant, you mean? I assume that your friend is an outsider. In the entire history of the Order no member has ever divulged any details of who we are or what we do.’
‘Child sacrifice, is what I heard,’ said Nightingale quietly.
Fairchild’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, then he quickly forced a smile to cover his discomfort. ‘Exactly what were you told about the Order of Nine Angles?’ he asked.
Nightingale smiled. ‘There you go, asking a question that you don’t know the answer to,’ he said.
A small vein began to pulse in Fairchild’s left temple and Nightingale saw the lawyer’s legs begin to tremble, signs of the tension the man was feeling.
‘Are you a Freemason?’ asked Fairchild.
‘Never went for funny handshakes and rolling up my trouser leg,’ said Nightingale.
‘A lot of police officers are, though.’
‘No argument there.’
‘Superintendent Chalmers, for instance. I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t the member of a lodge.’
‘I dare say. But what’s that got to do with the Nine Angles?’
‘People who don’t understand the Masons think that they get up to all sorts of shenanigans.’
‘I don’t think anyone has ever accused the Masons of child sacrifice.’
Fairchild shook his head. ‘You really believe that, Jack? You think that in this day and age people actually go around sacrificing children?’
Nightingale slowly sipped his lager. ‘Since I discovered that my father, my genetic father, was a Satanist, I’ve tried to keep an open mind on the whole black-magic thing.’
‘Now it’s black magic, is it? You’re accusing the Order of black magic, devil-worship and killing children?’
‘If I was, what would your answer be?’
‘Jack, you’re being ridiculous. You know that, surely?’
‘I know that whenever you’re faced with a difficult question, you prevaricate.’
Fairchild leaned forward and glared at Nightingale. ‘I can unequivocally say that the Order of Nine Angles has absolutely nothing to do with child sacrifice or devil-worship or any other nonsense of that nature. It’s a charitable organisation that allows like-minded people to network. There are judges in the Order, politicians, members of the royal family, sportsmen. It’s not very different from the Rotary Club. Or the Freemasons, come to that.’ He stared intently at Nightingale for several seconds, then smiled, picked up his glass and swirled his brandy again.
‘And my sister?’ said Nightingale.
‘What about her?’
‘Was Robyn a member of the Order?’
‘Of course not,’ said Fairchild. ‘Why would you even think that?’
‘Because she confessed to murdering five children.’
‘Jack, you’re not listening to me. The Order of Nine Angles does not kill children. But your sister.?.?.’ He sipped his brandy.
‘My sister what, Marcus? My sister is a child-killer? Is that what you were going to say?’
‘As you just said, she confessed.’
‘But you were on her defence team, weren’t you? You were defending her.’
‘Innocent or guilty, a person is entitled to the best possible representation in court,’ said Fairchild. He sipped his brandy again.
‘I know what you did, Marcus,’ said Nightingale quietly.
Fairchild stiffened. ‘What do you mean? What do you think I did, Jack?’
Nightingale opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything he saw Jenny McLean walk into the bar. She waved at him and then hurried over to their table. The two men stood up. Jenny headed straight for Fairchild, hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Thanks for rescuing him, Uncle Marcus.’
‘Always a pleasure to put the police in their place,’ said Fairchild. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘White wine would be lovely, thank you,’ said Jenny. Fairchild went over to the bar as Jenny sat down next to Nightingale.
‘Why did you call him?’ whispered Nightingale.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Jenny. ‘He got you out, didn’t he?’
‘I’m serious, Jenny. He’s dangerous.’
‘Look, Jack, Chalmers clearly has it in for you and if he throws enough mud at you some of it is going to stick.’
‘I can handle Chalmers,’ said Nightingale.
‘No you can’t because you’re a civilian and he’s got the Met behind him. Now that he knows that Uncle Marcus is in your corner he’ll be less likely to give you a hard time.’
‘He’s not your uncle. I don’t know why you call him that.’
‘You’re a fine one to talk. You know that you were adopted at birth but you still call them your parents, don’t you?’
‘That’s different. That’s totally different.’
‘Sometimes you can be an obstinate bastard, Jack,’ said Jenny. She folded her arms and glared at him.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Fairchild as he returned to the table with a glass of wine for Jenny. He put the glass on the table and sat down.
‘I’m starting to think that Jack enjoys sparring with Chalmers,’ said Jenny.
‘What I can’t understand is where all the bad feeling has sprung from,’ said Fairchild, adjusting the creases of his trousers. ‘You’ve obviously done something to get under his skin.’
‘It’s probably jealousy,’ said Jenny.
‘What, of my good looks?’ said Nightingale.
Jenny smiled sarcastically. ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s it.’
‘What, then?’
‘For a start you were a better cop than he ever was,’ said Jenny.
‘Is that so?’ asked Fairchild.
‘That’s what Jack always says.’
‘Chalmers is an idiot,’ said Nightingale. ‘Always has been, always will be. But he knows how to tick the right boxes and how to say the right things at interviews to climb the slippery pole.’
‘Plus, the fact that you have the house must really get up his nose.’
‘House?’ said Fairchild.
‘Jack inherited a huge house in the country,’ said Jenny. She sipped her wine.
‘Did he now?’ said Fairchild.
‘Gosling Manor,’ said Nightingale. ‘From my biological father.’
‘What about Robyn? Did he leave anything to her?’ said Fairchild.
‘He didn’t know where she was. He gave both of us away at birth and although he found me he had no idea what had happened to her. So no, she got nothing.’
‘And this house — are you going to live there?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’m still considering my options. I’ll decide once the builders are out.’
‘You’re doing the place up?’ asked Fairchild.
‘I wish,’ said Nightingale. ‘I had a visit from an arsonist.’
‘You’re joking,’ said Fairchild.
‘If I am, there’s no punchline,’ said Nightingale. ‘I was in the house at the time.’
‘Did the police catch him?’
‘Sort of,’ said Nightingale. ‘But he set fire to himself before they could put the cuffs on him.’
‘And why did he pick on you?’ asked Fairchild.
‘It was probably his winning personality,’ said Jenny. She raised her glass to Fairchild. ‘Thanks for riding to Jack’s rescue,’ she said. ‘I’m grateful, even if he isn’t.’
