“Can we discuss the roving teams?” Julie Reilly asked.
“Please do. It’s time each team met their camera and sound people,” Harris Dalton said as he gestured for Julie to take over.
As Julie stood, Jennifer nudged Gabriel’s arm. She raised her right eyebrow as if to tell him to end the staring game with Jackson. Before she turned, however, she saw a small smile crease the state policeman’s mouth. Then he relaxed, but not before placing his hands on his hips; in so doing, he uncovered the black pistol he kept holstered on his hip. Jenny lightly shook her head.
“Professor Kennedy’s technical man, Leonard Sickles, will be with the four computer assistants inside the ballroom. They will be covered by a static and a remote controlled camera. Lighting there will be minimal, so expect a lot of blurred close-ups,” she said, smiling at Leonard.
“Blurred? Baby, this is the one face you want clear,” Leonard said with a grin. He kept his smile on until his eyes went to Jackson who merely stared at the former gang member. Then Leonard lost the smile fast.
“Just do your job in there, Mr. Sickles. Your research, which should already have started, will be going out live if you uncover anything.”
“If there’s something to dig up, we’ll dig it up. But I will need clear access to the west coast. Anything spotty may lose us valuable time and data,” Leonard said. He glanced nervously at Damian Jackson, knowing the man could see right through his bravado.
“Your satellite link is secure and every computer has a battery backup,” Julie reassured Leonard. “Team two, Professor Tilden, John Lonetree and George Cordero. Team three, myself, Professor Kennedy, Father Dolan and Detective Jackson.” She looked at the lieutenant, who raised his brows. “Detective Jackson will be the only one not filmed, taped, or otherwise recorded.”
Gabriel stood up and looked at the others. “Only one team at a time will be on any floor of the house, with at least one floor separating teams for sound variance. When team two is in the basement, team three will be on the floors above. When three is in the barn, two will be on floor three, and so on. You will be told your assignments during the show and at commercial breaks. It’s not perfect, but it will keep us from crowding each other.”
“Shouldn’t each team have a…” Lonetree looked around as if not being able to come up with the word. “Shouldn’t each team have a seer?”
All eyes looked at John.
“No. With Professor Tilden’s friend missing in action, I want her covered. I think she still may be a magnet for whatever it is in there. She attracted Bobby Lee McKinnon; she just may do the same here. You two will watch her and try to feel if that happens before it happens.”
John Lonetree looked satisfied at the answer, but not truly happy about it. It was as if Gabriel was still using Jenny as bait. Jenny calmed John when she reached out and wrapped her thin fingers through his enormous ones. She smiled without looking at him.
“By Professor Kennedy’s request, after the taped lead-in from New York, and after my intro from the front steps along with the introduction of the teams and their expertise, Summer Place will be secured — locked from the outside.”
“That’s just a little extreme, isn’t it?” one of the soundmen asked from the back table.
“Integrity.” Kelly stood, her clipboard held against her chest. “That’s the modus operandi of Hunters of the Paranormal. No one in or out for the duration. At the very least, it compels the viewer to believe the teams are isolated, which is hard enough to do on television.”
“Look, we all heard what happened the last time we had people in this funhouse. What if we need to get out of there fast?” the same man asked. He didn’t looking the least bit ashamed at questioning the Hunters of the Paranormal routine.
“For all of those who have the same concerns, I present you with this magic talisman,” Kelly said dramatically, holding something up like a cross to a vampire. “The key to the front and back door!”
Everyone, including the nervous soundman laughed aloud.
Lionel Peterson even grinned, to a point. He had to hand it to the queen bitch of the universe; she knew how to handle the production team.
“It makes me want to have the locks changed,” Peterson mumbled.
“What was that?” Wallace Lindemann asked, leaning toward Peterson.
“Nothing.”
An hour later, Harris Dalton stood on the upper tier of the production van while the three teams were in makeup. Without the roving team cameras and sound, he had to be satisfied with testing the static night vision and infrared cameras on each floor, bedroom and basement. He would have liked to test Leonard Sickles’ lighting system before the start, but he guessed that would have to wait — the ghosts wouldn’t move on cue just because he needed a test.
“Go to One,” he said. The view on static Camera One showed the interior of the ballroom. There were three people inside sitting at the computers that had been installed. One of the state policemen was there as a precaution, as most were still outside the house. As the camera zoomed in, Harris could see the technicians tapping away at their keyboards. Every once in a while they would look up nervously. Jesus, he thought, if they’re going to do that all night long, they’ll never uncover anything.
“Okay One, switch to infrared please.”
On the monitor, the scene switched and it showed three red hot figures, two sitting at the table by their computers and one standing at the open door to the ballroom. Their body heat put out enough energy to turn their images red. The rest of the ballroom, with the exception of the computer monitors and their towers, was a soft blue, yellow or green.
Harris continued the static camera check. Twenty minutes later the still camera and sound backup installed in the stable picked up movement, and just as Kelly Delaphoy walked into the production van Gabriel Kennedy came in view. Harris was annoyed at Kelly for coming into the camera check, since he usually allowed no one in or out during this critical time. He looked at her, annoyed, but went back to Camera Thirteen inside the stables. Kennedy just stood there looking around, then moved over to the first stall and eased down on a bale of hay. He sat silently, rubbing the tiredness from his face.
“Tell makeup they have to hit Professor Kennedy again before airtime. He just rubbed his face off.” Harris shook his head. Amateurs. He would have to watch everything these people did. A shadow fell on Kennedy and then a large man stepped into the view of the night vision camera.
“Bring up the sound on the parabolic microphone on Thirteen please,” Kelly said.
“You don’t give orders in here, Kelly,” Harris stared a hole through the smaller producer. “Harris, turn up the Goddamn mic, will you? Do you see who that is?”
Dalton looked again and saw that the man who had joined Kennedy was none other than Damian Jackson. The state policeman stood over the professor with his hands casually at his sides. Then he moved over to a bale of hay feet away from Gabriel, sat down and tipped his fedora back on his head.
“Do as she says, bring up the volume,” Harris ordered.
At first there was nothing, only the camera picking up two men who seemed to be taking a quiet moment for themselves.
“I don’t like eavesdropping on private conversations.” Dalton leaned on the large console as he watched the scene before him.
“They know the stables are hot. That camera was placed where Kennedy himself wanted it. Leave it. I wouldn’t miss this conversation for the world. In fact…” Kelly placed a set of headphones over her ears. “Record this. It may come in handy.”