“People always find it easy to talk to me,” said JC. “I’m a good listener. That had better not be sniggering I hear behind me…”
“You had other jobs, Gramps,” said Susan. “Some of them a lot better paying.”
“But they were just jobs,” said the old man. “Something to do, in the time that was left to me. Something to keep me busy till the pension kicked in. And they did mean I didn’t have to spend so much time with your grandmother. A wonderful woman, my Lily, but best appreciated in small doses… She did so love to talk. She was very good at being reasonable, in a very wearing way… Where was I? Oh yes. This was the first job I had as a teenager, and I gave this factory the best years of my life. I saw more of this place than I did of my own children.”
“They understood,” said Susan.
“Did they?” said Graham. “I’m not sure I ever did. Now my Lily’s gone, and both your parents work all the hours God sends…”
“You’ve got me, Gramps.”
“Yes,” Graham said fondly. “I’ve got you, child.”
Susan looked at JC challengingly. “Is that your high tech piled up there? I know state-of-the-art shit when I see it. You really think you can measure ghosts, weigh ghosts, pin them down, and open them up?”
“Sometimes,” said Melody.
Susan glared at her. “Who did you say you work for?”
“We’re official,” said JC. “I’d leave it at that if I were you.”
“This is our haunting!” Susan said stubbornly. “We were here first!”
“You can’t stake a claim on a spirit, child,” said Graham. “We heard things, Mr. Chance. People tell stories… and I heard more than enough to convince me there was something out here worth investigating. We might only be amateur ghost hunters, but I do have experience in this field. I am here to offer help and guidance to any lost spirits who might be… held here, for any reason. Help them realise that they’re dead, but there is a better place waiting for them. Show them the peace and the protection of the Clear White Light.”
“Amateur night,” growled Melody. “All we need.”
“Quiet at the back,” said JC. “But the rude lady does have a point, I’m afraid, Mr. Tiley. It really isn’t safe here. You should leave.”
“Young man,” Graham said sternly, “I have cleared seventeen unhappy places and left them calm and peaceful, untroubled by any unquiet spirit. I know what I’m doing. I intend to make contact with whatever troubled soul resides here. You are welcome to stay and help if you wish.”
“Help, not interfere,” said Susan. “No-one messes with my gramps, not while I’m around.”
“And what is it you intend to do?” said JC. “I’d really like to know.”
Tiley glared at him suspiciously, not entirely sure he was being taken seriously. “I have my own tried and trusted methods. I shall be about them. You and your colleagues can do as you please!”
And he stomped off into the dark interior of the factory, holding his storm lantern out before him, a pool of golden light advancing into the darkness. Susan looked after him, not sure whether he wanted her company. She scowled at JC.
“Official… What kind of official? You’re not the police.”
“Heaven forfend,” said JC. “Let’s just say we’re professionals. We have a lot of experience in this field, enough to know that what’s happening here isn’t an ordinary haunting. Albert Winter didn’t just happen to die in this place. Something lured him in here, then took its own sweet time killing him. And whatever did that is still here.”
Susan shuddered suddenly, despite herself. She could hear the truth in JC’s calm voice. She looked over at her grandfather. “Gramps took up ghost-hunting as a hobby when he retired. Something to keep him occupied… But after Grandma Lily died last year, he’s been taking it all a lot more seriously.”
“Am I to take it that you’re not a believer?” said JC.
Susan snorted loudly, looking him over scornfully. “Of course not! I’m here to keep him company and see he doesn’t get into any trouble. I’ve watched his back on a dozen cleansings and never seen or heard a thing. It’s all empty rooms, shadows in the corners, and plumbing rattling in the walls. You know a lot about the killing; you sure you’re not some kind of police?”
“How can I be sure, let me count the ways,” murmured JC. “Trust me, Susan, there isn’t a branch of the police that would accept any of us on a bet. Except perhaps as Bad Examples. But there was a murder here, and we are looking into it. We are concerned as to how it may have happened.”
They all looked round as Graham Tiley came striding back, his footsteps echoing in the quiet. He stopped right before JC and looked at him sternly.
“I’ve had a look at your machines. Machines won’t help you with the spirit world. Nor will official attitudes. It’s all about prayer and belief and compassion. Spirits who are having trouble passing on respond best to the personal touch. Human contact, kindness, sympathy, positive attitudes. I’m here to talk and to listen, and to help if I can.”
“An entirely worthy intention,” said JC, getting in quickly before Melody could stop sputtering long enough to say something unhelpful. “Unfortunately… not all ghosts want peace. Some have to be pacified.”
Suddenly, without any warning, the whole building was shaking with the deafening sounds of machines working filling the air. Huge machines slamming and grinding, overpowering. The floor vibrated heavily, shaking everyone with the brutal power and motion of unseen machinery. They all put their hands to their ears, but it wasn’t the kind of sound they could keep out. The roar of the machines filled the whole factory floor, filled their heads, and rattled their bones. Susan grabbed onto her grandfather’s arm with both hands, to hold him steady. They all looked around them, Tiley waving his lantern with a shaking hand; but there was nothing to see anywhere.
“I know this noise!” said Tiley, leaning in close and shouting to be heard over the din. “Though I haven’t heard it in years. This is what it sounded like on the factory floor, when all the machines were working at once. It made me deaf for a week when I first started! No ear protectors in my day… But they pulled all the machines out of here when they shut the place down!”
The sound stopped abruptly, and Tiley shouted his last few words into an echoing silence. The air was still, the building was steady, and the floor was calm and certain again, as though nothing had happened. But there was still something… in the dark, out beyond the light.
“Can you feel that?” said Happy, stepping forward reluctantly. “There’s a definite presence here…”
“Of course there is!” snapped Tiley. “And you and your young friends have upset it, with your modern scientific attitudes! You people need to get out of here. You’re making things worse. Leave me to get on with my work.”
“We can’t do that,” said JC.
“Why not?” said Susan. “Who are you, really? And don’t give me that professionals bullshit. Who wears sunglasses at night, in a deserted building? You’re not from any of the official ghost-hunting groups, like FOG and PIS.”
“Fog and what?” said Happy.
“Friends of Ghosts, and Paranormal Investigation Society,” said Tiley. He stabbed an accusing finger at JC. “You’re journalists, aren’t you? Bloody tabloids!”
“No,” said JC. “We’re really not interested in publicity. The horror of ghosts, for most people, is that they’re beyond all the usual methods of control. People feel helpless before them, terrified by the unknown, not knowing how to cope. But we are from the Carnacki Institute, and we know what to do with ghosts.”