Darke

by Matt Hilton

  ‘Put it this way; what he wants doesn’t only go against the grain as a detective, it goes against my humanity.’

  ‘Aah, then you’re in quite a pickle,’ he said.

  ‘Isn’t there anything you can do to help?’

  ‘Not yet. But there’s something you can do to help yourself.’ He leaned forward, reaching for her hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘You are alive, Kerry. Your energy is contained in its corporeal vessel, and therefore more powerful than his. It’s been proven to you already in his inability to harm you. He understands that your power is greater than his, otherwise why try to bully you into acting out his wishes? Stand your ground, enforce your boundaries, and tell him you do not grant him permission to bother you without invitation.’

  ‘And that will work?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly say,’ Price said, ‘but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’ve told him to go away and leave me alone before. It had no effect on him.’

  ‘It’s because you were frightened of him then, and he knew it and fed on your fear. Now you know that by comparison he’s a weakling, you have nothing to fear from him.’

  Kerry nodded at his logic, but something still troubled her. ‘Why would I grant him an invitation?’

  Price shrugged his narrow shoulders. ‘Because, Kerry, I think there’s still more you haven’t told me, and you need something from him too.’

  35

  Kerry returned to work too distracted with competing thoughts to care about counter surveillance tactics. She flagged down a taxi on the Strand and headed back to the nick. She wasn’t gullible. It took more than Elias Price’s prognosis to believe a restless spirit energised by the negativity of his life was haunting her. Where was the proof that ghosts actually existed? Price was convinced that ghosts were real, but recently Kerry had also been convinced she could get into a pair of size 8 skinny jeans until she’d tried to pull up the zip. To be honest, she had more faith in Doctor Ron’s assertion that “Belief in itself is a contradiction, because it can be fooled into forming false beliefs”, than in the argument of a man that allegedly banished demons to hell for a living. Before she left the eatery he had noted her uncertainty.

  ‘Kerry,’ he’d said, as she stood to leave, ‘you can accept what I’ve told you or not. That’s totally your prerogative. As a police officer, to ensure a conviction you need evidence and proof, but I’m betting there are times you can’t get what you need, and yet you’re certain of a suspect’s guilt. It’s the same when I approach the supernatural and paranormal. These things are ineffable. It means they can’t be explained. But you know they’re genuine. You feel it here—’ he touched his heart ‘—and you know they are real, despite there being no logical way of scientifically proving them.’

  She had a logical mind, and that was what made her a good detective. She was able to extrapolate, connect the threads, and come to conclusions based on lucid and rational lines of thought, and from there find the evidence to prove her point. In England, the standard required in a criminal trial was that proof was beyond reasonable doubt. Yet, the civil standard required only that the proof be based upon the balance of probabilities. On the latter measure she thought her ghostly companion could be judged probable. She’d set her test of Swain based on the same question: On the balance of probability had pure luck led her to the exact warehouse where Funky, James and Lewis had gone into hiding, or had she been the recipient of spiritual guidance? Well, if her luck was that good, she should begin playing the lottery again, because she’d be a multi-millionaire in no time.

  Price encouraged her to accept the ineffable, and go with her heart over her mind, but he’d have been better encouraging her to trust her gut instinct. It wasn’t the first time that she’d worked a hunch to a satisfying conclusion, and probably wouldn’t be the last. So why not go with what her copper’s sixth sense was telling her: Swain was the real deal.

  And if she accepted that, then what?

  Have him as a millstone around her neck for the rest of her days, or do what he asked and be rid of him for good?

  The latter was out of the question.

  She was not a murderer. Full stop.

  Could she reason with a vengeful spirit?

  Price had been mesmerised when she’d explained the extent of their discourses. Ghosts, in his belief, were largely mute or confused. You got little from them by way of conversation apart from the occasional moan or a random and often ambiguous statement. He’d told her about EVP’s, or Electronic Voice Phenomena, where he’d captured the alleged voices of spirits on digital recorders, but they were always invariably difficult to hear and open to individual interpretation. That Swain was not only talking, but at length and in the manner he’d spoken in life, suggested he was incredibly sentient for an incorporeal being. She got the impression that Price was desperate to investigate her case further, and hopefully share and record a conversation with Swain, but she shot down that idea before it gained traction.

  So, as she sat in the rear of the taxi as it hustled through the congested streets towards the nick, she conceded there could be truth in it. Swain was real. He’d directed her to the Nine Elms Crew’s safe house, and three of the four fugitives had been captured. But if he was real, where the bloody hell had he got to since climbing inside the police van with Funky and Kingston James? It was approaching twenty-four hours since she’d sent him on the clandestine mission, so what was keeping him?

  Spirits are timeless, according to Elias Price.

  If they were eternal, did that mean they had no concept of the passage of time? Well, that wasn’t conducive to fast results, exactly what was expected from her by Porter. She wasn’t sure what was most uncomfortable, a ghost or the DCI breathing down her neck.

  Who was she to complain about the tardiness of a ghost?

  What she’d originally planned to take less than an hour had eked into the day, and by the time she paid her taxi fare, and made it back inside the nick to the GaOC office, she’d been gone for the better part of three hours.

  DS Korba was the bearer of bad tidings. He’d just taken a phone call from DC Scott.

  ‘Funky squealed like a pig in interview,’ he announced. ‘For a deal he’s stitched up the others.’

  ‘What do you mean by a deal? Funky isn’t getting out of this, Danny. No way on Earth.’

  ‘Tell that to the boss man,’ Korba said and shrugged in apology. ‘You weren’t here, so Porter put his oar in. He sent Glenn over to Belmarsh to offer Funky leniency if he grassed on his pal, Robson. Don’t worry, Funky’s going to do time, just not at as a category-A inmate.’

  ‘We don’t need a deal with Funky! We’ve already got them all bang to rights with the video and forensic evidence.’

  ‘We had them all on conspiracy,’ he reminded her. ‘But we hadn’t positively ID’d the murderer. Funky’s confirmed it was Derrick Lewis who pulled the trigger on Jermaine Robson’s command.’

  ‘Bloody hell! That was already a given.’ Throwing up her hands, she almost turned full circle. ‘What the hell’s Porter playing at? I only need a little more time and I’ll have Robson. I told him that already, but he can’t keep his bloody nose out of my business!’ She emitted a string of un-lady-like curses, and a promise to shove Funky’s deal up the DCI’s backside.

  Korba’s jaw hung slack. Mel Scanlon and Tony Whittle kept their heads down, pretending to be too busy to eavesdrop.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, throwing up her hands again.

  ‘Steady on, Kerry,’ he cautioned her. ‘Wall’s have ears.’

  ‘Yeah, you can bloody-well say that again!’ She stomped away to her cubbyhole. Suddenly she spun on her heel and eyed Korba suspiciously. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘do tell, Danny. Have the rubber heelers asked you about me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The frigging Dark Side, the suits, the bloody DPS! You know who I bloody-well mean. Harker’s lot!’

  Korba expelled a snort. ‘I
know who you mean, but do you really think I’d go behind your back like that?’

  ‘Why not? It hasn’t stopped Porter, has it?’ She glared at the backs of Mel and Tony’s heads. ‘What about you two? Anybody been asking about me?’

  They didn’t have anything to say on the subject, and she realised she was being unfair to them. Especially to Korba, who’d proven his loyalty time and again. She slapped a palm over her mouth and fled for her office.

  After a respectful few minutes, Korba knocked gently on the door.

  Her elbows were propped on her desk, her face in her hands. Kerry didn’t move.

  ‘Boss? You alright?’

  ‘I’m OK,’ she said through her cupped hands.

  Korba paused, choosing his words. ‘Boss…uh, Kerry, you don’t sound OK. Is there anything I can…’

  ‘Just leave me alone for a while,’ she groaned, and sat back in her seat. Her hands didn’t leave her face, though. ‘I just need a minute or two, OK?’

  ‘Yeah, course, but…’

  ‘Danny? Please? Just do as I ask.’

  She knew what was wrong, but how could she explain? Admitting that Swain was real, it had given her hope that he would soon lead her to Robson, and she would break the case with the gangster’s arrest. As soon as she did that, she could demand the answers she really wanted from him. The identity of the Fell Man, and what the bastard did to Sally was finally within her grasp. But Porter’s meddling jeopardised everything! With more pressure on him to stay hidden, Robson might flee beyond her reach, and she’d never be able to fulfil her side of their bargain. For a second there she had almost imagined the elusive Fell Man tittering at her, knowing his secret would remain safe. Fight or flight, her response to panic was anger.

  ‘Danny, I’m sorry I blew up at you like that.’

  ‘Ah, it’s nothing, boss.’ By his tone her accusation had stung him. She owed him an apology.

  ‘You didn’t deserve it. Tell Mel and Tony…’ her words faltered. She should personally tell them she was sorry. She got up and steadied herself against her desk. Approached the door. The stubborn thing wouldn’t move. ‘Danny, give the door a shove, will you?’

  It took only a swift nudge to push the door over the rucked carpet. He stuck his head in the narrow gap. ‘Seriously, boss. You alright?’

  ‘Just keep me away from Porter for the next hour or two or I swear to God I’ll punch him in the face.’

  ‘Want me to go get him and hold him still for you?’ His grin flickered off an on like a faulty bulb.

  She smiled at his offer, but shook her head as she stepped out the door. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t go saying things like that, eh? Like you said, walls do have ears around here. But,’ she gripped his forearm, ‘I know there are no loose lips in here. Just forget I ever mentioned it, OK? You guys too?’ Mel only squeezed out a smile, while Tony shrugged and continued, as if he wasn’t bothered. Nevertheless, she’d done what needed doing.

  She needed to speak with Swain next, and the GaOC office wasn’t the place for that.

  ‘Actually, Danny, I’m feeling not too well,’ she said. ‘Something I ate at lunch didn’t agree with me. Can you hold the fort again? I need to go home for a while and pull myself together.’

  He was no fool. He didn’t buy that a queasy stomach was enough to send her home sick, and that there was something else troubling her. But he didn’t press while they were in company. ‘You don’t look too good,’ he pointed out, ‘and you don’t need to be here. Want me to drive you?’

  ‘No, no, it’s OK. I’ve got my car with me.’

  He exhaled softly. Stared at her intently for a few seconds.

  She winked at him. ‘Quit worrying, will you? I’m going to be fine. I promise.’

  He nodded, though it was obvious he wanted to accompany her, and be a sympathetic shoulder to lean on.

  ‘If anything comes up, ring me,’ she said.

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  There was a danger that by going home, she was throwing herself outside the loop. Porter was already making decisions without her input, or even against it, and by making off she was offering him opportunity to make more. But what else was there for it? She couldn’t exactly hang around the nick and have a conversation with her ghostly spy in full view and hearing of her team.

  She drove home at speed, hoping that Swain had thought the same and waited in private for her return. Not that he’d ever been considerate to her before.

  Unfortunately, Swain wasn’t there, but Adam was.

  36

  ‘I know, I know. It sounds insane, but please listen to me, Adam. Hear me out. It’s all real, and I can prove it if you just give me a chance!’

  ‘Give you a chance? I asked you to sort your head out, see a doctor, but no! You went to see a friggin’ fortune teller!’

  They were in the kitchen. Circling the small dinner table, like prizefighters in a ring.

  ‘Price isn’t like that. He’s not a fake. He actually knows what he’s talking about.’

  ‘Anybody can be an expert about shite if they talk it enough times! Jesus Christ, Kerry! Ghosts? Demons? You sound like a complete idiot! Fraudsters like Elias Price thrive on ripping off gullible fools like that.’

  ‘He didn’t ask me for a penny.’

  ‘Not yet, he didn’t. But mark my words. As soon as he’s got his claws in you, he’ll have you signing up to a monthly direct debit.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous!’

  ‘Oh? I’m being ridiculous? Who’s the one running around like she’s one of the Ghostbusters?’

  Kerry swept an empty cup off the table. It clashed against a kitchen counter, shattering. ‘Just stop it, Adam! Stop for one minute and listen to me!’

  ‘What? Or the next cup hits me in the head?’ He stormed out of the kitchen, with Kerry in pursuit.

  ‘That’s unfair! I wouldn’t hurt you. It’s just that you aren’t listening to me. I need you to stop and listen!’

  He spun to face her in the living room doorway, his face blazing.

  ‘No! You need to stop and listen. And I don’t mean to the bloody voices in your head. I’m talking about listening to me! This isn’t right, Kerry.’ He stabbed his finger repeatedly against his skull. ‘You’re going on like some kind of nutter. A ghost told you where to find his killers? For fuck’s sake!’

  It was wrong confiding in him. At first he’d listened, even been sympathetic, pleased when she told him she was feeling much better now that she was achieving good results at work. But then came the flashpoint. She mentioned how she’d discovered the whereabouts of the fugitives, and the colour drained from his features. When she admitted forming an alliance with the ghost of Erick Swain, who promised to deliver the Fell Man’s identity to her in exchange for Robson’s life, he lost it. And little wonder. She never got the opportunity to explain she’d no intention of hurting Robson on Swain’s behalf, because Adam flew into disbelief-induced panic. Telling him that Elias Price had validated Swain’s existence, as had the test she’d set the ghost, well…there was no hope of a rational discussion afterwards.

  ‘How could I know where they were? Tell me that, Adam? Did I just pluck a random location out of the air, and lo and-fucking-behold, they just happened to be there?’

  ‘You’re a copper. Coppers find criminals, don’t they? You must have had an idea, some intelligence about them or…I don’t know! But I know for-frigging-certain that a ghost wasn’t behind it.’

  ‘I had no idea where they were. I was told, and they were exactly where Swain said they’d be.’

  ‘Swain? You even call him by his name? Swain’s dead, Kerry. Swain fell off a building and smashed his brains in. How can he speak to you when his teeth are rattling around in the back of his skull?’

  ‘He doesn’t look like he did after death. He looks like he did just before it.’

  ‘What?’ Adam shrieked, waved his arms around like something demented, his face contorted in terror. ‘Like that? Ju
st before he hit the pavement?’

  Kerry snorted in disgust. She spun away heading for the kitchen, and this time Adam charged in pursuit.

  ‘Go on,’ he demanded. ‘Explain to me why he looks the way he does. From what I hear, the headless horseman doesn’t look like he did before he got the chop. So why doesn’t Swain? Why does he look as fresh as a daisy when every other ghost look as if they’ve dug their way out their own graves?’

  ‘What do you know about the subject? You have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh and you have? Suddenly you’re an expert, are you, because Elias Price schooled you in the art of ghost busting? Pity he didn’t tell you how to spot a bloody conman while he was at it. Go and take a good look in a mirror, Kerry. Tell me what you see isn’t the face of a gullible idiot.’

  They faced off across the table again, her fists braced on it. ‘One thing I do know is how to spot a pig-headed son of a bitch! Why is it because you don’t believe in ghosts it’s me who’s wrong?’

  ‘Because I am right. And if you looked at it clearly, you’d see I’m right. Jesus, you’re a copper. How can you believe any of this shite when you’ve seen what you have in the job? There’s no such thing as evil spirits, Kerry, only people doing evil things to each other.’

  ‘What does being a copper have to do with it? Plenty of other coppers are religious. They believe in God and Jesus and angels, and in other religions. Are they wrong to believe, just because it doesn’t fit into your version of reality?’

  ‘That’s different than believing you’re being haunted.’

  ‘Why is it different? If you accept God’s real, then why not His angels? If angels are real then why aren’t demons? And why stop there: if the supernatural’s real, then why the hell am I a lunatic just because I happen to be experiencing it? Go on. Explain that, you bloody know it all!’

  ‘I’m not going to explain because it’s a load of bollocks. Any way, you’d better keep your mouth shut about hearing voices, Kerry. You know what happened to Joan of Arc, don’t you? They burned her at the bloody stake!’