Midnight: The Second Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

book. Or filed it away.’
    ‘Or maybe he didn’t have a list in the first place.’
    ‘Oh ye of little faith,’ she said. ‘There isn’t a computer down here, is there?’
    Nightingale gestured at the far end of the basement. ‘There’s one down there linked to the CCTV feeds but I’m pretty sure it’s just for recording. And I haven’t seen a laptop.’
    ‘Have you checked the desk?’
    Nightingale shook his head.
    ‘Why don’t I go through the desk while you make a start on the books?’
    ‘Go for it,’ said Nightingale. He took went over to the bookcase, where he started taking books down. They were mostly leather-bound and dusty but they had all been read and had been annotated in the same cramped handwriting. Passages were underlined and there were exclamation marks and question marks in red ink in the margins.
    There didn’t appear to be any logic to the order that the books were in. There was a book on plant biology next to a book on Greek mythology, then a first edition of Lord of the Rings next to a book on fairies. There were historical books, works of fiction, books of photographs and books written by hand. In turn, Nightingale noted down the title and the author and a number corresponding to its position on the shelf.
    A bell rang somewhere upstairs. ‘Who’s that?’ asked Nightingale.
    Jenny smiled sarcastically. ‘I’m not psychic,’ she said.
    ‘Yeah, that was just about the only thing missing from your CV,’ said Nightingale. He stood up and walked the length of the basement to where half a dozen LCD screens were fixed to the wall in two banks of three. Nightingale tapped a button on a stainless-steel console in front of the screens and they flickered into life. There was a man in a dark overcoat standing in front of the main door, his hands in his pockets.
    ‘Who is it?’ called Jenny.
    ‘The last person I want to see just now,’ said Nightingale.

9
    N ightingale pulled open the front door. Superintendent Chalmers was standing in the driveway, his hands in the pockets of his cashmere overcoat. He looked more like a Conservative politician than a policeman in his dark pinstriped suit and perfectly knotted blue and cream striped tie. Behind him was a hard-faced woman in a beige belted raincoat, her hair cut short and dyed blonde. She was in her early thirties, probably a detective sergeant, with dark patches under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well the previous night.
    ‘What are you doing working so late?’ asked Nightingale. ‘Superintendents don’t get paid overtime.’
    ‘Thought I’d check out the new Nightingale residence,’ said the superintendent. ‘Nice. Very nice. Bit off the beaten trail, though.’ He looked around, nodding slowly. ‘Missed you at the office, couldn’t find you at the flat in Bayswater, so thought I’d check out your inheritance.’
    ‘How can I help you?’ asked Nightingale. He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to get back to London.’
    The superintendent ignored the question. ‘What are you going to do when they take away your licence for drunk-driving? Not very well served by public transport, are you, and a minicab’s going to set you back about a hundred quid from London.’
    ‘That’s why you’re here, is it? To check up on my drink-driving case? Haven’t you got better things to do with your time?’
    ‘I’m just saying. You were over the limit so you’ll get a twelve-month ban at least, plus a fine. Of up to five grand and maybe even a few months behind bars.’ Chalmers looked up at the roof. ‘Must be a ton of lead up there. What’s security like out here in the sticks? Surrey Police keep an eye on the place, do they?’
    ‘What do you want?’ asked Nightingale. He took out his pack of Marlboro and lit one.
    ‘A bit of respect for a start,’ said Chalmers.
    Nightingale shook his head. ‘I’m not in the Job now, and even when I was I had precious little respect for you. You’re on private property and unless