Forces from Beyond (10 page)

“Be seeing you,” she murmured, then she was gone. The Door closed silently behind her and disappeared.

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Out in the small airless room that served as a waiting area for all those summoned to see the Boss, JC and Melody and Happy were cooling their heels. Sitting resentfully on very uncomfortable visitors’ chairs, while they waited to be invited in. A situation they were all too used to. From time to time, one or the other of them would glare at the heavily reinforced and entirely soundproofed steel door that was the only entrance to the Boss’s office. And wonder what was going on behind it.

The constantly recycled air in the small windowless room never failed to give JC a headache. And the frankly depressing décor didn’t help. Dozens of head-and-shoulders portraits, covering all four walls, of old agents fallen in the field. Not a smile to be seen on any of them. The oldest portraits were paintings, which gave way to daguerreotypes, then photos—from sepia to black-and-white to colour. Men and women who’d faced off against the worst Heaven and Hell could throw at them because the Carnacki Institute doesn’t take any crap from the Hereafter. Field agents who had put their souls on the line, not for medals or money, honour or glory, but just because they believed it was a job that needed doing.

JC made a point of sitting calmly, legs casually crossed, back straight and head held high, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Because you never want the enemy to see you looking vulnerable. He looked around the room, for want of anything better to do. Nothing had changed since his last visit; but then, it wasn’t the kind of place where anything really changed. The room had been here before he joined the Institute, and no doubt would still be here long after he was gone. People come and go; but the Ghost Finders of the Carnacki Institute go on forever.

He hadn’t been told why he and his team had to report in so urgently, so soon after taking on two cases in a row without proper downtime; but he could guess. When a case goes as badly wrong as Brighton had, with so many innocents dead . . . the need to spread the blame around quickly becomes paramount. Everyone feels the need to pass it on before it can stick. JC did feel guilty, that so many people had died on his watch. That he hadn’t been able to pull off one of his famous last-minute miracle solutions and save the day. But one of the first things a field agent learns is that you can’t always save everyone. Latimer knew that. JC was pretty sure she’d take responsibility. She knew none of it was his fault, or his team’s. The whole thing had been her idea, after all.

Melody was sitting stiff-backed, arms tightly folded, scowling defiantly at the whole damned world. She was never comfortable, making personal reports. She’d always related better to machines than to people. Her usual response to criticism was to go for the throat. She darted the occasional glance at Happy, beside her. Hands folded neatly in his lap, staring at nothing. He’d slept surprisingly well, for a change; but he hadn’t said a word since he woke up that morning. He was drawing back inside himself, putting up barriers to keep out an increasingly intrusive world. Until he couldn’t see out any more.

Melody hadn’t dared give him any pills to try and bring him back—not with the Brighton interview hanging over them. Better he say nothing, and risk giving away the extent of his condition, than say something and confirm it. He seemed . . . tractable enough for the moment. And he did still smile, sometimes, when he looked at her. Melody sat stiffly in her chair, her heart breaking, and hoped someone would be stupid enough to give her a good reason to punch them out.

The Boss’s personal secretary, Heather, was typing with great concentration at her brutally efficient desk, ignoring all of them. JC considered her, unobtrusively. Heather wasn’t just a secretary; she was also the Boss’s last line of defence. No-one got past Heather. Calm, professional, pleasantly pretty in a blonde, curly-haired, sweet-faced sort of way. She dressed smartly rather than fashionably and appeared harmless enough. Unless you knew better. Supposedly, Heather was secretly equipped and armed to such an extent she could stop a whole army of invading terrorists in their tracks. Having seen Heather in action a few times, JC was quite prepared to believe it. She was also scarily efficient, close-mouthed about her Boss and her job, and unpredictably dangerous. Right now, she was pounding away at her keyboard so hard, it actually jumped into the air from time to time.

Which was never a good sign. Something was wrong, something had changed. JC couldn’t put his finger on anything specific; it wasn’t that Heather had said anything . . . It was more in the way she carefully avoided looking at him or his team, concentrating entirely on her work. Normally, Heather and JC would exchange a little sharp-edged banter, just to make it clear neither of them was too impressed with the other. In fact, JC could usually rely on Heather to help him judge what was in the wind before any interview with the Boss. Such as: how deep in it he was, or the best way to jump . . . But not today. The few times he’d tried to strike up a conversation, Heather had shot him down with a curt monosyllable. Which could only mean . . . something really bad had happened. Or was about to happen. JC scowled and wondered if he could get to the door before Heather could produce a gun.

His first thought was to just go to ground and disappear, until whatever shitstorm it was had blown over. But then, that was his usual first thought whenever he was kept waiting to see the Boss. He knew if he ever did decide it was time to go missing, he’d have to run hard and fast to avoid the kind of hounds the Institute would set on his trail. Give up everything he had, leave it all behind, because he couldn’t afford to take anything that might slow him down. And he wasn’t ready to do that, just yet. His scowl deepened. Brighton had been bad, a full-on disaster, but he honestly couldn’t see how any of the blame could be laid at his door. Even an experienced A team couldn’t hope to stand off a direct attack by the Flesh Undying. Unless someone was looking for a scapegoat. A public sacrifice for a very public failure. Would the Boss really throw him and his team to the wolves, to protect herself? JC sat very still, his mind racing as he considered . . . possibilities.

Heather suddenly stopped typing, and swivelled around on her chair to look directly at JC for the first time. Her face was entirely unreadable. JC smiled easily at her, while his heart raced so hard he was sure she could hear it.

“The Boss says you can go in now,” said Heather.

“About time,” said JC.

He stood up, and his knees cracked loudly from being still for so long. He looked thoughtfully at Heather for a moment. “I didn’t hear the Boss call you.”

“New arrangement,” said Heather. “In you go.”

Melody helped Happy up onto his feet and tugged briefly at his dishevelled clothes before giving it up as a bad job. She took him unobtrusively by the arm and urged him towards the steel door. He went along willingly enough. JC moved quickly forward to take the lead, though whether to put himself between his team and any attack, or just demonstrate he was still team leader, even he wasn’t sure. The heavy steel door swung silently open before him. JC took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode in to confront the Boss with his head held high.

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The Ghost Finders stopped dead just inside the door as they took in the new face sitting behind the Boss’s desk. They didn’t know her; but they knew trouble when they saw it. The door closed quietly behind them. JC looked vaguely around the office, as though half-expecting Catherine Latimer to be hiding somewhere . . . and then looked reluctantly back at the woman behind the desk. She seemed a little flushed and flustered but was clearly doing her best to look like a cold and forbidding authority figure. Somehow, JC just knew they weren’t going to get along. He glanced back at the closed door and tried hard not to feel trapped. Or under threat. So . . . when in doubt, go on the offensive. JC knew a lot about being offensive. He strode forward, planted himself before the desk, and glared right at the new face.

“Who are you? Where’s the Boss?”

“I am Hillary Allbright, Head of the Carnacki Institute,” she said coldly. “Your new Boss. Don’t look for Catherine Latimer, she’s gone. She’s history. You will not be seeing her again. Sit down, Mr. Chance. You and your team take your orders from me now.”

“Oh shit,” said Happy.

JC and Melody both turned their heads sharply to look at him; but he had nothing more to say. The three of them sat down on the very uncomfortable visitors’ chairs and studied their new Boss with a blatant lack of enthusiasm.

“Where is Latimer?” said JC. “What’s happened to her?”

“That needn’t concern you,” said Allbright. “All that matters is, you answer to me now. And only to me.”

“Meet the new Boss, same as the old Boss,” said Happy. “Don’t get sacrificed again.”

“Is he being funny?” said Allbright.

“Hard to tell,” said Melody. She glared at Happy. “You choose now to start talking again?”

“Self-preservation instincts kicking in,” said Happy. “Better than drugs. Though not as long-lasting.”

“So,” JC said loudly, to drag the conversation back into touch, “Latimer is out . . . Why weren’t we informed of this before?”

“Because you didn’t need to know,” said Allbright. “Such decisions are made well above your pay grade. A great many changes are taking place within the Institute; security must be preserved.”

“A bureaucrat!” said Melody. “Oh dear Lord, we’re in trouble now . . .”

JC worried his lower lip between his teeth, thinking hard, trying to sort out the implications. It was like having not just the carpet but the whole floor whipped out from under his feet. Catherine Latimer had been Boss of the Institute for what seemed like forever. If she was gone, did that mean her enemies inside the Institute had finally got to her? And were they, necessarily, agents of the Flesh Undying? You can’t be in charge of an important organisation like the Carnacki Institute for as long as Latimer was and not make all kinds of enemies. For all kinds of reasons. JC looked up and caught Allbright looking at him as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. And she was smiling: the smile of a hunter whose prey has just ambled unsuspecting into the trap. JC wished he’d brought the Hand of Glory with him instead of stowing it away somewhere safe for fear they’d take it away from him. He still had a few useful items and nasty surprises tucked away about his person, but under Latimer, this office had been protected by all kinds of seriously unpleasant defences. JC had no doubt they were still in place, just waiting for an excuse to jump on him with both feet. It was what he would have done.

So he sat back in his chair, looking as calm and relaxed as he could manage, giving Allbright his best
I’m no trouble, I know my place
smile. Even though he was pretty sure he wasn’t fooling anybody. Allbright looked coldly back at him, then at Melody, and finally at Happy. Melody stirred dangerously in her chair.

“Why are we here, Boss?” JC said quickly. “Do we have a new assignment?”

“Hardly,” said Allbright. “After your unmitigated failure at Brighton, you can no longer consider yourself an A team.”

“Wasn’t our fault!” said Melody.

“That’s enough!” said Allbright. “I will not suffer insubordination in my office! You will speak only when spoken to, and only to present answers to my questions.”

“Yeah,” said Melody. “That’s going to happen . . .”

“This is the kind of attitude I was warned about,” said Allbright. “Latimer might have put up with it, but you can be sure I will not. As of now, you are removed from field-work until you have completed an extensive course of retraining.” She glared at Happy. “Except for him. That man is not fit for duty. He is suspended, pending a full medical and psychological exam. And a full inquiry into misuse of experimental pharmaceuticals from the Institute’s laboratories.”

Melody’s hand shot towards something in her pocket. Allbright’s hand went to a drawer in her desk. JC clamped a hand down hard on Melody’s arm, holding it in place. No-one said anything, but the tension in the room ratcheted up a whole series of notches. Melody glared fiercely at JC, her arm straining against his grasp. His hand didn’t budge an inch. After a worryingly long moment, Melody nodded reluctantly. JC let go of her arm, and she took her hand away from her pocket. Allbright took her hand away from the desk drawer. JC let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and turned his attention back to Allbright. Happy hadn’t moved a muscle through any of this, staring straight ahead of him. JC gave Allbright his most confident smile.

“You can’t shut us down,” he said. “We have the best track record of any field team in the Institute.”

“You will not be allowed out into the field again until you’ve been properly debriefed, and re-educated concerning proper procedure,” Allbright said flatly. “I’ve read your files, and I am not impressed. What successes you may have achieved have been undermined by slipshod work and a marked inability to follow orders. You have possibilities, Mr. Chance. Ms. Chambers has a great many questions to answer; but her remarkable aptitude for advanced technology might yet secure her a useful position in the new order. If she can learn to cultivate the correct attitude.” Allbright looked at Happy with open distaste. “However, there is no room in this organisation for a drug-addicted telepath. His very presence here is a disgrace! I still haven’t decided whether he should go straight from this office to a holding cell or be sectioned immediately under the Mental Health Act!”

“No,” said JC. “I don’t think so. One for all, all for one, and to hell with everyone else. That’s the Ghost Finders team spirit. An attack on one of us, is an attack on all of us; and our files should have warned you what happens when we start feeling . . . unsafe.”

“Threats will get you nowhere,” said Allbright.

“I think you’ll find they will,” said JC.

“You won’t be allowed to just quit,” said Allbright.

“Try and stop us,” said Melody.