White Death. Daniel Blake

heaven and earth. The pillars either side of his throne represent law and liberty: the crossed keys at his feet are the keys to Heaven. The Hierophant represents assistance, friendship, good advice, alliances, marriages, and religious interests. When he’s inverted, that means bad advice, lies, and persecution. If he appears in a spread, it’s a warning to the querent to re-examine their understanding of the meaning of things, of the structure of the world, of the powers-that-be.’

      ‘A spread? A querent? What are those?’

      ‘When you do a reading. The querent is the subject, the one who wants to know their future. The spread is how the cards are arranged. There are several different ways, depending on the reader’s skill or preference. Would you like me to show you?’

      ‘What? Give me a reading? I’m the querent?’

      ‘Sure.’

      ‘Thank you, no. I haven’t got time, and in any case I don’t believe in all that stuff.’

      ‘It would purely be for interest.’

      ‘No.’ He stood. ‘Thank you. You’ve been helpful.’

      ‘Might give you an idea as to why the cards are being left there. Might even give you an insight into how best you’ll solve the case. In a reading, some people believe the cards chosen are guided by a spiritual force. Others, like Jung, think the cards help us tap into a collective unconscious.’

      Patrese was torn. He really didn’t believe in this stuff, and he really didn’t have time to waste: but if someone was going round killing people and leaving tarot cards by their bodies, shouldn’t he be exploring all possible avenues to help catch that person?

      He sat back down again. ‘All right. But only a quick one.’

      Anna smiled. ‘Sure. I’ll keep it to the major arcana, twenty-two cards rather than seventy-eight, and give you a simple horseshoe spread rather than some of the more complex ones.’

      She took the Empress and Hierophant back from Patrese, cleared away the minor arcana cards, and shuffled the major arcana with a speed and dexterity that wouldn’t have disgraced a Vegas croupier. Then she laid out seven cards, all face down, in a horseshoe.

      ‘This is just for interest,’ Patrese said.

      ‘Each card in this pattern means something different,’ Anna replied. He wondered if she’d heard him. ‘The first one’ – she tapped the one to her extreme left – ‘is the past: any events that have already happened which affect your current situation. The second is the immediate present. Self-explanatory. Then the immediate future; also self-explanatory.’ She rested her finger on the fourth card, the middle one. ‘This is what’s occupying your mind: what you’re thinking of, whether you know it or not. The next, the fifth, is the attitudes of others around you. Then there’s the obstacle you must overcome. And finally the outcome, the ending: how the situation will finish. Ready?’

      If I don’t believe in all this, Patrese thought, then why do I suddenly feel so nervous?

      He swallowed hard. ‘Sure.’

      She smiled. ‘OK. This first card is the past.’

      She turned it over. Card number VII, the Chariot. A prince in armor sitting in a chariot pulled by two sphinxes, one black and one white.

      ‘The chariot symbolizes conquest: a battle that can be won if you have the willpower. The battle is usually external, with a clear goal and plan of action. The charioteer fights alone. He succeeds by attacking from the side rather than straight on. To win the battle, you need self-reliance, hard work, and the conviction that you’re right and that you’ll achieve victory no matter the odds. But, but … this can easily tip over into a ruthless desire to win at any cost.’

      Patrese thought of the cases he’d pursued in the past. Some of them had gone on for months, and in each one he had at times felt frustrated, depressed, ready to jack it all in; but in the end he’d always kept going, and he’d always gotten a result. He was here now because he’d solved those crimes; he’d solved those crimes because he was good at what he did; and he was good at what he did because he kept plugging away and because he’d try anything to get a breakthrough.

      Yes, Patrese thought: he could see how the Chariot card applied to him.

      ‘Next card,’ Anna said. ‘The immediate present.’

      A young man standing blithely on the edge of a cliff. He carried a rose in his left hand and had a hobo’s bindle over his right shoulder. The sun shone; a small white dog played next to him.

      Card zero. The Fool.

      Patrese clenched the muscles in his jaw. Anna leaned forward and put her hand on his. ‘No, don’t be insulted. The Fool doesn’t mean “idiot”. In Tarot, the Fool is the spirit seeking experience. He represents the mystical intuition within each of us, the childlike ability to tune into the inner workings of the world. Each card in the major arcana can be seen as a point on the Fool’s journey through life. It’s that journey you’re on now. Where it’ll take you – well, who knows, but almost certainly not the place you think.’

      Idiot or not, Patrese didn’t like being the Fool. He gestured to the next card.

      ‘The immediate future,’ Anna said, as she picked up.

      Card XVIII. The Moon. The moon itself with a frowning face at the top of the card; great drops of dew falling from the moon to land; two tombstones; a dog and a wolf howling at the moon; a crayfish crawling from the water on to the land; and a path that disappeared into the distant unknown. Despite himself, Patrese shuddered.

      ‘The moon is tension, doubt, deception, confusion and fear,’ Anna said. ‘It’s sleepless nights and unsettling dreams. The dog and the wolf are our deepest fears: the crayfish hauling itself up from the deep is the base animal nature we try so hard to hide. You must make like the moon itself, Franco. Look at the frown on the face of the moon. Look at the drops of moisture. Look how hard it strives to keep those instincts down.’

      Patrese wanted to get up and leave, but he couldn’t: how would it look, a Bureau agent walking out of a tarot reading? If it ever came out, he’d never live it down.

      He reminded himself that it was all mumbo jumbo: cards chosen at random, images so old that no one knew any more why they’d been chosen in the first place. It might mean something to Anna, or to the wacko who’d killed Regina and Darrell, but to Patrese – determined, rational, secular Franco Patrese – it meant nothing. Nothing. Didn’t it?

      Anna’s hand moved on to the fourth card, the middle one. ‘This is what’s occupying your mind right now,’ she said.

      An old man standing in a wasteland. He wore a long hooded robe and a white beard. A lantern in his right hand, a staff in his left. Card IX. The Hermit.

      Kwasi, Patrese thought instantly; a man always a step out of sync with the rest of us.

      ‘This card is introspection, solitude, the search for understanding,’ Anna said. ‘The hermit must withdraw from society to become comfortable with himself; but he must also return from isolation to share his knowledge with others. The hermit can give the insight we need to open a sealed door or conquer the forest beasts. Some say the hermit is the time we learn our true names, when we see who we really are.’

      ‘Fifth card,’ she said. ‘The attitudes of others.’

      A young man in a red robe with a wand held high in his right hand. Above his head was the sign of infinity, a sideways figure of eight looping back endlessly on to itself. On the table in front of him was another wand, a sword, a cup and a pentacle: the four suits of the minor arcana. Flowers bloomed on the ground.

      Card I: the Magician. Reversed, inverted. Anna blew through her teeth.

      ‘An inverted magician … that means there’s a manipulator around. He may appear helpful, but he doesn’t necessarily have your best interests at heart. He may not even be a real person: he may just be your ego,