Forces from Beyond Page 6

  “Where the hell did these people acquire something as spiritually toxic as that?” said Melody.

  “I did hear of a Russian Hand that turned up loose in London a while back,” said JC. “God alone knows how it ended up here. They can’t know what it is, what they’ve got . . . probably think it’s just some movie prop. We can’t risk its getting out on the open market. Anyone activating the Hand could open doors to . . . anywhere. And let anything in. I really wouldn’t want to be on the team that had to clean up after that.”

  “So what do we do?” said Happy. “Buy it ourselves, to take it off the market?”

  “Are you kidding?” said JC. “Have you seen how much they’re asking for it? And good luck getting a receipt for expenses . . . No, I’ve a better idea. Kim, are you with us?”

  “Right here, darling,” Kim said breathily in JC’s ear. Which was actually a pretty good trick for someone who didn’t breathe any more. “I thought I’d stay unseen so I could watch your back. I don’t like the feel of this place.”

  “We need a distraction,” said JC. “Something big and noisy but essentially harmless, to hold everyone’s attention. Think you could oblige?”

  “Love to,” said Kim.

  A sudden hurricane squall rushed through the tables and stalls, rocking them violently back and forth and sending goods flying through the air. People ducked and shouted as heavy objects shot past their heads, and stall-holders clung desperately onto their tables, trying to hold them down. Several supposedly mystical artefacts burst into brightly coloured flames, while other equally impressive things just lay there and did nothing. While everyone’s attention was fixed on the weird happenings, JC chose his moment carefully, picked up the Hand of Glory, stuffed it inside his jacket, and casually strolled away. Melody and Happy went with him, trying hard to look innocent.

  They’d almost reached the exit doors when they swung suddenly open, and a familiar figure stood facing them. Catherine Latimer beckoned them out of the dealers room with an imperative gesture, and the Ghost Finders hurried into the corridor to join her. The doors shut behind them of their own accord as everything in the hall fell suddenly quiet.

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  Looking professionally calm and immaculate in her usual expensively cut grey suit, the Boss was smoking a black Turkish cigarette in a long ivory holder, in defiance of several prominent No Smoking signs. She had to be well into her eighties now, but she still burned with a fierce and almost certainly unnatural energy. Latimer wore her grey hair cropped in a severe bowl cut, and her face was all hard edges, harsh lines, and cold, cold eyes. Since she was hardly ever seen outside of her highly protected office at Institute Headquarters, her presence made it very clear just how important this new case was. JC, Melody, and Happy still made a point of glaring at her rebelliously, just on general principles. The Boss calmly stared them down—like a lion-tamer in a cage full of dangerous animals who just happened to have an automatic weapon about her person.

  “Why are we meeting here while there’s a convention going on?” JC said bluntly.

  “So we can hide in plain sight,” said Latimer.

  “Hide what?” said Happy. “What are we doing here, and are we in danger? Answer the last question first.”

  “We’re finally going after the Flesh Undying,” said Latimer.

  There was a pause while the Ghost Finders looked at each other. Uncertain as to whether that was a good thing or not.

  “Who are we hiding our presence from, exactly?” said JC. “Agents of the Flesh Undying or traitors inside the Carnacki Institute?”

  “Yes,” said Latimer.

  “Well . . . it’s about time we got serious about dealing with the Flesh Undying,” said Melody. “What’s changed to bring this to the boil at last?”

  “Aid, from an unexpected quarter,” said Latimer.

  And that was when Natasha Chang stepped smartly forward out of the shadows, to stand beside Catherine Latimer. All the Ghost Finders jumped, just a little. They knew Natasha Chang of old. A field agent of the Crowley Project, and a self-made femme fatale, Chang was a beautiful creature in her mid twenties with bobbed black hair, dark, slanted eyes, and a heart darker than the night. Half Chinese gangster, half English rose, all villain, all the time. She was wearing her preferred outfit—a pink leather cat-suit with matching pink pillbox hat. Because she’d never got over seeing Eleanour Bron in the Beatles film Help at a formative age. Chang’s long, sharp fingernails were painted with real gold leaf, and she had enough heavy rings on both hands to qualify as knuckle-dusters. JC remembered Happy’s warning of an old friend, or ally . . .

  Natasha Chang smiled easily at JC and his team. “Hello, darlings! Miss me?”

  “Only because I didn’t aim properly the last time,” growled Melody.

  “Isn’t this a super convention?” said Chang, rising above the general unpleasantness with ease and style. “So many open minds, so many soft targets . . . so little time!”

  “We should kill her right now,” said Happy. “In self-defence.”

  “Oh, you forget everything else, but her you remember?” said Melody.

  “She made an impression,” said Happy.

  “I do, don’t I?” Chang said cheerfully.

  “You say that like it’s a good thing,” said JC. “You eat ghosts!”

  “Don’t you look down your nose at me!” said Chang. “Ghost lover! Ectophile! Where is your little ghost girl, anyway?”

  “Right behind you,” said JC. “Hah! Made you look! She’ll turn up when she’s ready. And if you even look at her like she’s a snack, I will bludgeon you into the ground.”

  Chang started to say something, then stopped as JC took off his sunglasses. The golden glare leapt out from his eyes, filling the corridor, unbearably bright and otherworldly. Chang took a step back. Catherine Latimer took a step forward.

  “That’s enough! Ms. Chang is under my protection, for the time being.”

  JC looked at the Boss thoughtfully, then put his sunglasses back on, cutting off the golden light. Everyone relaxed, just a little.

  “Why is she here?” said JC.

  “Because the Crowley Project is working with the Institute on this case,” Latimer said flatly. “Ms. Chang is on loan to us, as liaison, and I promised she’d be returned undamaged. So play nicely, children. An old enemy can be an ally in the face of a common threat.”

  “Can’t hope to rule the world if the Flesh Undying destroys it first,” Chang said cheerfully.

  “Where’s your unpleasant little mad scientist friend, Erik Grossman?” said JC. “Isn’t he your usual partner in the field?”

  “Erik fell from favour,” said Chang. “So I got to eat his soul. Yummy . . .”

  JC and his team looked at each other. They all knew Chang ate ghosts, but this was something new . . . They looked to Latimer, but the Boss just shrugged.

  “We are working this together,” she said calmly. “And I don’t want to hear any arguments. We’re all bringing something to the table.”

  “We’re really doing this?” said Melody. “Going up against something from another dimension, maybe even a higher reality, something that’s basically a living god? Or devil? We don’t stand a chance, Boss! Unless you’ve been holding out on the kind of weapons the Institute can call on.”

  “Where it came from, it might have been some kind of god,” said Latimer. “But now it’s here, it’s limited by the physics of our reality. It’s flesh now, with all of flesh’s built-in frailties. We can do this.”

  “How?” JC said bluntly.

  “We’re working on that,” said Latimer.

  “We are so screwed,” said Happy.

  Latimer ignored him with the ease of long practice. “Thanks to the Crowley Project, we now have a fix on the physical location of the Flesh Undying. The exact place
it fell to Earth.”

  Chang nodded proudly. “Our scientists discovered it while looking for something else. Isn’t that always the way?”

  “You’ve seen it?” said Happy. “What does it look like?”

  “Big,” said Chang. “Scary big.”

  “And we need the Project’s help because . . . ?” said JC.

  “Because they have more impressive killing tools than we do,” said Latimer.

  “And because it takes one monster to understand another,” said Happy.

  “Darling,” said Chang. “You say the sweetest things. Now come along with me, and Auntie Natasha will show you wonders and marvels that will blast the sight from your eyes.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” said JC.

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  Natasha Chang swayed elegantly through the deserted corridors, walking arm in arm with Latimer, the two of them apparently chatting quite easily. JC watched them both closely. He wasn’t fooled by all these signs of good fellowship and common cause. The two organisations might cooperate in the face of a common threat, but given a chance to stab an old established enemy in the back, either side would take it. That was understood. Because even the very real possibility of the imminent end of the world couldn’t change basic human nature.

  There was still no-one around. The corridors remained quiet and empty, and the light seemed to grow dimmer as the shadows grew darker. JC felt like he’d gone walking through the darkest part of the forest and allowed himself to be persuaded off the main path. A long way from home, surrounded by monsters . . . with a Boss he wasn’t sure about any more. The further he walked, the more JC worried about where he was going. Just how big was this Conference Centre? After a while, Melody leaned in close to JC so she could murmur in his ear.

  “If we really are going after the Flesh Undying, at last, why couldn’t it be a mainstream operation? Why all this secrecy?”

  “Because we don’t know whom we can trust,” said JC, just as quietly. “In either organisation.”

  Melody scowled. “I hate this. Not knowing where I stand, or whom I can trust . . .”

  “Welcome to my world,” said Happy, on JC’s other side. “Spooky, isn’t it? I’d like to say you get used to it . . . but that’s what drugs are for. Remember, just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean I’m not out to get you.”

  “You got that off a T-shirt,” said JC.

  “What makes you say that?” said Happy, then spoiled the effect by giggling.

  “Are you picking up anything from Chang?” said JC.

  Happy shook his head slowly. “She’s got really strong shields in place. I can crack them, given enough time, but not without her noticing. Doesn’t matter . . . You know you can always rely on her to follow what she believes are her best interests. Anything else . . . will depend on the situation. Come on, JC, you don’t need a drug-addicted telepath to tell you that.”

  “How are you feeling?” said Melody.

  “It comes and goes,” said Happy.

  “What does?” said JC.

  “Everything,” said Happy.

  They finally came to a halt before a secluded back room, in a particularly gloomy back corridor. Half a dozen armed men from the Crowley Project guarded the door, studiedly anonymous in smart black business suits and designer sunglasses. Though none of them had shades as dark as JC’s. They all snapped to attention as Chang approached and handled their automatic weapons like they knew what they were doing. Ex-military, JC decided. Though no telling from which country’s armed forces, originally. The Crowley Project spread its net far and wide. Happy took one look at all the guns and hid behind Melody, while she stood her ground and scowled impartially at each guard. Natasha put an arm through JC’s, and snuggled up against him.

  “Don’t worry, boys. He’s with me.”

  “Only in the most technical sense,” said JC.

  Interestingly, the guards seemed most wary of Catherine Latimer.

  The door was locked. Chang had to punch numbers into a keypad, and identify herself through a comm unit, before a great many locks disengaged, and the door swung slowly open. Chang led them in, and the door closed itself the moment they were all inside. The locks slammed home again. JC did his best not to feel trapped or intimidated.

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  The room was a fair size, packed full of high-tech equipment that covered all four walls and piled up everywhere else. JC didn’t recognise half of it, never mind what it was for. But judging from Melody’s squeals of excitement and loud, cooing noises as she rushed back and forth, she knew. The half dozen Project technicians sitting at their work stations in neat white lab coats smiled at each other condescendingly.

  JC stayed by the door, looking carefully about him. There were no windows and no other door. Harsh, unrelenting, fluorescent strip-lighting gave everything a stark and brutal look. Happy stuck close to JC, shooting jealous looks at the tech and technicians that had seized Melody’s attention. The man in charge came forward to greet Natasha Chang and Catherine Latimer. François Nimmo was a tall, elegant man with neat silver hair, a charming smile, and the kind of eyes you just knew missed absolutely nothing. He wore a standard teacher’s jacket, complete with leather patches on the elbows. Melody barged in on the introductions, pelting Nimmo with all kinds of questions about his high-tech toys.

  JC and Happy looked at each other and smiled briefly. They were both already thinking of something annoying to do, just to remind everyone of their presence. Never let people take you for granted or they’ll walk all over you. Interestingly, Natasha Chang seemed the most upset at being ignored and upstaged. She hated having to compete for people’s attention. Latimer didn’t seem that bothered.

  It turned out, Melody and Nimmo had already heard of each other. She knew about his part in the Haunted Giaconda Caper; and he knew about her role in the Case of the Shadow Kings. Latimer and Chang both reacted sharply to that; they didn’t approve of anyone outside their own organisations knowing about such restricted material. Melody and Nimmo ignored them, happily discussing the nature and uses of the various equipment scattered around them. Melody went into positive ecstasies while Nimmo beamed like a proud father. Happy scowled heavily.

  “He doesn’t look like much,” he said to JC. “I could beat him up.”

  “Pretty sure you couldn’t,” said JC. “He might look like your average scientist, but you can bet he’s Project-trained, just like Natasha.”

  “With the right pills in me, I could beat up the Flesh Undying,” said Happy. And then he slowly subsided. “But . . . Mel’s going to need somebody, after I’m gone. I just need to be sure . . . she ends up with the right someone.”

  “You mustn’t give up, Happy,” said JC.

  “Why not?” said Happy. “It’s strangely comforting. You should try it.”

  “No,” said JC. “I can never give up hope.”

  They both knew he was talking about Kim. Happy shrugged heavily.

  “Far too much death in our lives . . .”

  The Project technicians suddenly became very agitated as new information came streaming in. They bent over their computer monitors, working frantically at their keyboards. Nimmo and Melody moved quickly over to see what was happening.

  JC looked at Happy. “Do you know what they’re doing?”

  “Haven’t a clue,” said Happy. “Why are you asking me?”

  “You’ve been hanging around Mel so long, I was hoping some of the science stuff might have rubbed off on you.”

  Happy smirked. “No, but I’ll tell you what did . . .”

  “No thank you,” said JC, very firmly. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Very wise,” said Happy.

  Melody and Nimmo stood together before the massive main viewscreen, raptly intent on images that quietly came and went. J
C and Happy, Chang and Latimer moved forward to join them. The technicians were still working furiously at their stations. JC cocked his head to one side, then the other, and still couldn’t make out what he was supposed to be looking at. Light and dark came and went on the viewscreen, occasionally illuminating or silhouetting vague shapes that might have been anything. Streams of information flowed across the bottom of the screen, constantly updating; and none of it made a blind bit of sense to JC. Though Melody and Nimmo seemed almost indecently fascinated by it.

  “Is this like those Magic Eye posters?” Chang said finally. “Only I’m getting a headache just trying to make sense of this.”

  “Oh good,” said Latimer. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

  “We’re looking at sensor feeds from a Project submersible,” said Nimmo. “Currently heading for the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Where the Flesh Undying ended up after its own kind dumped it in our world,” said Melody.

  “Oh please tell me this is somewhere inside the Devil’s Triangle!” said Happy.

  “I loved that old documentary with Vincent Price!”

  “Not even close,” said Melody, crushingly.

  “Besides,” said Latimer, “that whole area’s been quiet for years. Ever since we dealt with the Inverted Black Pyramid.”

  “That was you?” said Chang. “We thought it was the Droods.”

  “They get credit for everything,” said Latimer.

  Nimmo cleared his throat loudly to draw everyone’s attention back to him. “We’re not talking about a normal submersible here; this is a remote-controlled drone, packed with specially designed and very powerful sensors. A Project ship on the surface is running the drone, we’re just piggy-backing its transmissions as it moves along the sea-bottom in full stealth mode, in the deepest, darkest part of the world. Not as far down as the Mariana Trench, but close.”

  “Though of course the Mariana Trench is in the Pacific, not the Atlantic,” said Melody.