‘A couple of flashes, but they didn’t make any particular sense. One was somebody shouting; it sounded like an angry father telling off a child. The other was more like a dream . . . walking between two rows of cypress trees, with a full moon shining overhead.’
‘So what do you make out of that?’
‘Absolutely bugger all, so far. Both flashes obviously represent highly significant moments in the driver’s life, otherwise they wouldn’t have left such a strong resonance in his seat. It’s also likely that they’re both connected with his decision to act as a suicide bomber. But how, and why . . . well, your guess is as good as mine.’
‘You still don’t have any idea who these terrorists are?’
‘Not really. I get a strong feeling that there’s a religious motive behind it, although it’s impossible to say which religion. I also get the feeling that Dar Tariki Tariqat has a very powerful and charismatic leader behind it – somebody that these suicide bombers desperately wanted to impress. In almost every fragment I’ve picked up, there’s an extraordinary sensation of pride. That’s something I’ve never sensed at a crime scene before, even when the British Army had me sorting through bomb debris in Northern Ireland.’
Frank pulled a face. ‘Whoever they are, they’ve certainly done what they set out to do. Almost every new TV series is on hold, and three major movies have been closed down altogether.’
‘Why don’t you come inside?’ said Nevile. ‘Let’s see if Danny can’t give us some answers.’
Nevile showed him into his study. One wall was lined with reference books and leather-bound encyclopedias and files on the paranormal; another was clustered with photographs of Nevile with various famous people – Uri Geller, Elton John, Shirley Maclaine, Henry Kissinger. There was no desk, only a large, low table in the center of the room, made out of a solid square of highly polished black marble.
‘This is my pride and joy, this table. I had it shipped over from Delphi, where the oracle Pythia lived. You’ve heard of the Oracle of Delphi?’
‘Sure.’
‘The story is that she could tell the future by getting high on bay leaves. But I think there’s much more convincing evidence that she was a psychic. She was capable of giving accurate predictions of what was going to happen in the near future, but only in flashes and riddles, the same way that things come to me, and any other psychic detective. For instance, she foresaw that “wooden walls will save Athens from Persia,” and what happened? The Greek fleet defeated the invasion fleet of King Xerxes of Persia at the battle of Salamis, 480 BC. And she predicted dozens of other famous events.’
Frank said, ‘There’s one thing I wanted to ask you, before we started. If another spirit’s pretending to be Danny, how are we going to get in touch with the real Danny?’
‘I think he’ll make himself known, if he’s recovered. It’s my belief that he must have been just as shocked as Kathy Ashbee and all the other children, and so the last time I tried to contact him, his spirit was still very weak. The other spirit was much more mature and consequently much stronger and so it was able to drown him out. It jammed his signal, as it were. But I’m hoping very much that Danny is going to be able to talk to us, this time.’
‘OK, then. I understand. Let’s get on with it.’
Nevile sat up straight in his black leather armchair and focused on the wall just above Frank’s head. Frank sat up straight, too, although Nevile hadn’t asked him to.
There was a long, long silence. It was so quiet that Frank could hear Nevile breathing. After three or four moments, a clock chimed eleven. Outside the house, in the sunlight, the teenager in the Hawaiian shirt was giving a last brisk polish to the Mercedes’ front bumpers.
‘Is that you, Danny?’ asked Nevile suddenly. ‘I want to talk to Danny.’
Frank sat up even straighter, right on the edge of his chair. He looked at Nevile, trying to catch his attention, but Nevile’s eyes were still focused on the wall above his head.
‘I want to talk to Danny,’ Nevile repeated. ‘Nobody else.’
It was all Frank could do to stay in his seat. ‘Nevile,’ he demanded, ‘is somebody there?’
Nevile glanced at him quickly and nodded.
‘Is it Danny? Please, God, let it be Danny.’
There was another silence. Nevile slowly lowered his head, so that he was staring down at the shiny oak floor, and he nodded, and nodded again, as if he were listening.
Eventually, he said, ‘All right, if you’re really Danny, why don’t you give me a sign? Better yet, why don’t you show yourself?
Frank waited, his heart beating – thumpp, thumpp, thumpp – as slowly as a funeral drum.
Nevile nodded again and then he looked up. ‘He says you should forget about him and make a new life for yourself.’
‘What? How can I forget about him?’
‘He says that you have to look forward, not back.’
‘How do I know that it’s really him?’
‘He says he forgives you, he knows that it wasn’t really your fault. He was angry before because he didn’t realize that he was dead.’
‘Yes, but how do I know that it’s really him, and not this other spirit pretending to be him?’
Nevile covered his eyes with one hand, and didn’t say a word for more than a minute. At last he said, ‘Mr Rumbles. Does that mean anything to you?’
‘What?’
‘Mr Rumbles, his teddy bear. He says that you called it Mr Rumbles because you blamed it for your stomach rumbling when you were reading him a bedtime story. Green Eggs and Ham, that’s what you were reading him.’
Frank opened his mouth and closed it again. It was Danny. It had to be Danny. What other spirit could have known that? And Danny had said that he was forgiven. Unexpectedly, his eyes filled up with tears.
‘Danny! Danny, can you hear me, it’s Daddy!’
Nevile listened again, and then said, ‘Yes, he can hear you. He loves you. He just wants you to be happy. He says you should make a new life.’
‘Danny, I’m not going to forget you. Not ever.’
‘He says you should follow your heart. You’ve already met the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.’
Frank frowned at him. ‘I don’t understand. How does he know about that?’
‘Because he’s with you, wherever you go, and he always will be.’
‘Danny – who do you mean? Who are you talking about?’
Another pause. ‘He says her name begins with A. A is for aardvark.’
‘Who do you mean, Danny? Who are you talking about?’
Nevile waited, and waited. ‘No answer. I think he may have gone. Either that, or he’s too tired to talk to us anymore. It’s very exhausting, getting in touch with people who have passed over; and they find it very exhausting, too.’
Frank said, ‘You’re sure he’s gone?’ He looked around the room, half expecting to see Danny standing in one of the corners, or out on the deck.
‘I think so. I can’t hear anything, and I can’t feel any resonance.’
Frank pulled out a crumpled tissue and blew his nose. ‘I don’t know what to say. That was Danny, wasn’t it? I mean, he knew what his teddy bear was called, and why.’
‘I wouldn’t take that as conclusive proof, Frank. But it does seem very likely that it was him.’
‘God, I wish I could have heard him myself. But he forgives me, and that’s what I care about most.’
Nevile stood up and laid his hand on Frank’s shoulder. ‘I’m pleased about that. I’m really very pleased. But . . . I don’t know. There was one thing that didn’t quite ring true.’