Ash hesitated before expressing his thoughts. ‘And if we’re not successful with this case, if we’re unable to discover the root cause of these alleged hauntings?’
His question was directed at Kate, but it was Maseby who responded. ‘You haven’t yet heard the nature of the phenomena.’
‘True. But from what you imply you could need a spiritualist rather than a research team.’
‘There’ll be no team, David,’ Kate informed him. ‘It’s just you initially; no one else will be involved at this stage.’
‘A castle will be impossible for one person to cover.’
Maseby leaned forward in his seat as if to speak conspiratorially to Ash, his voice almost hushed. ‘Unfortunately, the more outsiders invited there, the higher the risk of exposure. Comraich Castle is intentionally private and I reaffirm, even its location must remain secret. Strangers are never allowed inside the grounds, not even tradesmen.’
Ash was perplexed. ‘How can you keep that kind of landmark secret? How about the locals – they must be aware of its existence?’
‘Oh, they know Comraich is there all right, but they have no idea of its purpose. We encourage them to believe it’s been turned into a private and very expensive health spa. In some ways it is just that. As for tradesmen and deliveries of any kind, there is a dropping-off point at the estate’s boundary. Mr Ash, once you’re there, you’ll appreciate its need for secrecy.’
The parapsychologist shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Absent-mindedly, he fingered the short scar on his cheek.
‘David, again, you must trust me,’ Kate urged. ‘I chose you because you’ve always worked best alone.’ And you also have some psychic ability, even though you won’t admit it to yourself, she thought. ‘Let’s not be modest, you are the Institute’s leading, as well as the most experienced, investigator.’
‘But I can’t handle the latest technology on my own. Monitors, cameras, capacity-change recorders, anemometers, ventimeters, air meters, CCTV – the list goes on and—’
‘We already have a closed-circuit television facility,’ Maseby interrupted, ‘and, of course, a monitoring area with full-time security observation.’
‘Besides, David, yours will only be a preliminary investigation,’ added Kate.
‘But a castle? There have got to be so many rooms, corridors, underground chambers, halls and passageways, not to mention secret passageways. I can’t cover them all.’
‘That isn’t being asked of you, Mr Ash. First we need to establish if Comraich is – and as a sceptic myself, it’s difficult for me to say this – truly being haunted, and that whatever’s happening is not just some weird but accountable phenomena. No doubt you remember in 2008 when there were twenty or more suicides of young people, all around the area of Bridgend in Wales within weeks of each other. Nobody has explained the catalyst for such tragic self-inflicted deaths. I’ve also heard that one schoolgirl fainting can cause others around them to faint.’
Ash frowned. ‘If you think there’s a kind of collective hysteria among your castle residents, then maybe it’s not a parapsychologist you need, but a psychologist.’
‘We already have one and she is as perplexed as everybody else. If we can agree to the terms of the contract, you’ll meet her on the plane tomorrow.’
‘I’d have to fly to Scotland? I could easily drive or take the train.’
Maseby shook his head. ‘You’ll go by jet from London City Airport. It isn’t a long journey, an hour or so. You’ll join Dr Wyatt, our resident psychologist, who is accompanying a new client to Comraich. Interestingly, Dr Wyatt practised psychiatry before psychology, the former being how she gained her MD.’
Ash was unwilling to debate the point. ‘So you have two for the price of one.’
‘No, no. We also have a resident psychiatrist at Comraich. A Dr Singh.’
‘The people you represent must be wealthy, especially if they have their own jet.’
‘I thought I’d made that clear.’
‘Freemasons?’ It was a wild guess that was met with disdain. The next guess was even wilder. ‘The Illuminati?’
‘No,’ Maseby said brusquely, ignoring the investigator’s deliberate facetiousness. ‘You’ll receive more information when it’s considered necessary. And of course, the first thing you must do is sign both the confidentiality agreement and the contract between the Institute and Maseby Associates on behalf of Comraich Castle.’
‘You didn’t mention there were two contracts.’
‘Yes, the Institute’s and also your own personal agreement.’
Kate intervened. ‘I think it’s time you told David exactly what has happened at Comraich so far. Then he can either accept the assignment or walk away. Agreed? David, if you decline, you can never tell anyone of this meeting.’
‘We hope you will come on board, Mr Ash.’
Mystified but intrigued, Ash nodded in acquiescence and Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Despite her recommendation to Maseby, she hadn’t been sure that David Ash had truly recovered his nerve.
4
Maseby now shifted his chair so that he could look straight into Ash’s eyes without the discomfort of twisting his body.
‘Apparently it started a couple of months ago,’ he began, ‘around the end of July or beginning of August, or so I’m told. One of my duties is to visit Comraich Castle at certain intervals just to see how it’s running, to note any problems, sometimes to accompany new clients, get them settled in – that sort of thing. Problems are generally minor, but with others I need to spend a week or so up there.’
Kate leaned back in her seat, her eyes flitting between Ash and Maseby, but mostly her attention staying with the former; having already heard Maseby’s account, she was now interested in Ash’s reaction to it.
Maseby continued. ‘It was after supper, late enough for the castle lights to be switched on. As was customary, many of our guests had gathered in one of the larger rooms used as a lounge area, where they could relax with a coffee, or brandy. It’s all part of the service. There was nothing amiss, and although it was summer, a fire had been lit in the room’s big open hearth. In a place as huge as Comraich, with stonework and wooden beams dating back to the fourteenth century, there are always draughts coming from somewhere. I think there were twenty or thirty guests and staff in the room at that time and everything appeared normal enough, but some of the residents started complaining about the chill that had set in.
‘The staff were perplexed. Despite the roaring fire and heat from the radiators, which are always left on whatever the season, the place really was cold and becoming colder by the minute – and it was still summertime, remember. In fact, everybody there could see the vapour of their own breath, that’s how cold it was. Then all the lights slowly began to dim; apparently it was the same in every hall and passageway where there were ceiling and wall lights. Soon, the castle was almost in darkness.’
‘Do you have a back-up generator for when the power supply from the main grid goes down?’ Ash enquired.
‘There are more than one, in fact, for different areas of the castle, and they’re always set to kick in automatically whenever there’s a power failure.’
‘Then maybe you need a qualified electrician.’
‘David . . .’ Kate warned.
Maseby smiled coldly. ‘Besides a psychologist, we have top-rated electricians and engineers at our disposal. We also have a doctor, two general surgeons – specialist surgeons can always be flown in – several nurses, both male and female, an estate general manager and several wardens . . . I could go on, but is it necessary?’
Ash shook his head.
‘In any case, an electrician wasn’t required. In a matter of moments, the lights came back on.’
‘And the heating?’
‘Yes, everything was normal again.’
‘You said the room also had a fireplace as well as hot radiators. What happened to the fire?’
‘Ah. The fire itself someh
ow lost its heat; the flames died even though it was stacked with burning logs and coal. It still shimmered, but gave out no heat. When the lights returned, so did the flames. It was very disconcerting for everyone, both clients and resident staff. But worse for the clients in the special unit below.’
‘Below?’
‘Some of our medical facilities extend to the castle’s basement area. A long time ago, these rooms were cells – oubliettes, they used to be called – but of course now they’ve been converted into very comfortable suites.’
‘Okay.’ The word was drawn out, as if Ash were considering the information. ‘So for one night the castle had a blackout. Obviously, there’s something more you want to tell me.’
‘Oh, believe me, Mr Ash, there’s much more to be told. I want to proceed with the incidents in the order they transpired.’
Noting that her investigator still looked worse for wear, Kate broke in, turning to the prospective client first. ‘I’m sure you’d like more coffee, Simon.’
Ash guessed the coffee was really meant for him. Did he honestly look that bad this morning?
Maseby declined the offer, but Ash nodded his head gratefully. ‘Yeah, I could use a refresher. You know I’m not at my best this time of day.’
He meant the last remark as a self-deprecatory comment, but Kate didn’t smile. Instead, she pushed a button on the desk’s intercom and spoke to her secretary.
What Ash really needed was a cigarette, but ridiculously that would be illegal now that smoking in offices, restaurants, pubs and theatres was banned. The lack left him a little shaky at times. Like now, even though he’d made the decision that tomorrow he would give them up.
Releasing the button, Kate said to her old friend, ‘Please continue, Simon.’
Maseby’s appraising eyes suggested he knew the coffee was a lifebelt thrown to this unshaven, tousle-haired individual she claimed was the Institute’s best psychic investigator. But Kate really wouldn’t have recommended Ash if she had any doubts about his ability.
‘Now we think,’ Maseby said as he gave a small tug at the trouser leg stretched too tightly over his knee, ‘that was the beginning of it all. You see, the same thing happened over the following two nights, even though the castle’s electrical circuits had been tested and the generators checked. No malfunctions were found in any of the systems.
‘Three nights in all, Mr Ash. Now tell me nothing unnatural is going on at Comraich.’
Ash gave him a humourless grin of repentance. ‘You’re right. If it happened three nights running, then I’d be concerned.’
‘And on the third night, a terrible stench came with the darkness, as if the air itself had been contaminated. Some of the guests, as well as members of staff, became nauseous because of it. Even when the lights returned and the fires regained their heat, the putrid odour lingered so that windows had to be opened to let the sea wind sweep through and cleanse the place of its stench.’
‘I admit, it’s puzzling,’ commented Ash, ‘but it isn’t necessarily proof of a haunting.’
The office’s side door opened and a young man entered carrying a tray bearing two cups and saucers, a tiny jug of milk and a cafetière. He gave Ash a quick nod hello and settled the tray on Kate’s desk where she’d cleared a space.
‘Thank you, Tom.’ She passed the used cups to her PA and he left the room, heeling the connecting door shut behind him.
Ash gratefully accepted his coffee and burned his top lip taking a sip too soon. Nevertheless, he took another sip, the heat and caffeine working its way into his system. He picked up from where the conversation had left off. ‘I assume the castle drains were inspected as well as the electrical circuits?’
Maseby was emphatic. ‘Everything that could be checked was checked. No fault was found in either utility. There was nothing to explain the stench, and the castle’s wiring was functioning properly.’
He lowered his voice, controlling his sudden exasperation. The investigator was meant to pose questions and hopefully rationalize what he heard. When neither happened, Maseby ploughed on. ‘I was called up to Comraich and I witnessed the next incident myself.’
Ash froze with his cup halfway to his lips. He was interested in hearing Maseby’s personal viewpoint on what was happening in the Scottish castle and whether or not it could be defined as a ‘haunting’.
Kate studied Ash’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction. But, as always, the investigator gave nothing away.
‘On this occasion,’ Maseby was continuing, ‘the castle’s CEO, Sir Victor Haelstrom, and I were in his ground-floor office when we heard a terrible racket coming from next door, where his secretarial staff are. It sounded like somebody was trying to wreck the place. There were bangs and crashes and one of the women was screaming. We rushed through the connecting door and we both ducked instinctively as a chair came flying towards our heads. Fortunately it missed, but the sight that we came upon was alarming to say the least. The three typists and Sir Victor’s PA – it was she who was screaming – were huddled together in a corner of the room, while the general manager Andrew Derriman was sprawled on the floor, blood spilling from a wound to his head. He was trying to rise but every time he was on one knee, a heavy piece of furniture skimmed across the room as though purposely aimed at him. He was knocked down again and again. Furthermore there were some black orbs flying around the room. Where they came from we’re not sure. They’re not part of the office furniture.’
Kate and Ash glanced at each other.
‘Paintings and photographs were dropping from the walls as if caused by a seismic shock. A computer on another desk kept switching itself on and off, even though its plug had been yanked from the wall socket. The fax machine was spewing out plain paper and, even when emptied, the mechanical process continued. It was the same with the copier, light constantly flashing on and off.’
‘Poltergeists?’ Ash aimed the suggestion at Kate, who shook her head.
‘There’s more to tell,’ she said quietly.
Maseby took his cue. ‘I stayed on at Comraich for a further week, just to be around should there be any more incidents. There weren’t. Everything became normal again, so I left, only to be called back the very next week. The lights had begun dimming again, but this time it was different.’
‘In what way?’ Ash enquired.
‘This time the lights, having almost faded to darkness, suddenly grew bright, then brighter, until it was impossible to look at them for more than a split second. In less than a minute the lights radiated so much power that the bulbs began to pop, showering the people below with fragments of hot glass.’
Ash frowned. ‘Anyone badly hurt?’
‘Some of the clients and a couple of maids suffered minor cuts to their faces, but no one was seriously injured. It was a miracle no one was blinded; they had instinctively closed their eyes when the bulbs exploded.’
‘I’ve already suggested to Simon,’ said Kate, ‘that it might be a paranormal storm, with so many bizarre episodes happening one after the other.’
‘Possibly. But what instigated it if that were the case?’ Ash looked to Maseby for an answer.
‘I have no idea, and I’m surprised you’d think I would know. Nothing’s changed at Comraich Castle recently, and there haven’t been any new guests for quite some time.’ He avoided Ash’s eyes. ‘Except for one,’ he finished quietly.
‘Has anyone – residents or staff – witnessed manifestations of any kind, aside from those that you’ve mentioned?’
‘Ghosts, you mean.’
‘Not necessarily. It could be anything from a floating mist inside the building to noises, banging, knocking, tapping, voices. Hazy, or even solid, figures that suddenly appear and then disappear, or pass through walls, or float up or down rooms or corridors. Shouts, screams. Disembodied hands, heads, and torsos. There can be any manner of anomalous disturbances created by other-worldly influences. But what I really want to know is, has anybody at Comraich Castle actua
lly encountered the spirit of someone supposedly dead?’
Maseby considered the question for a few moments. ‘It seems not,’ he said at last. ‘But I myself have definitely felt cold spots, especially in the rooms and passageways beneath the castle.’
‘Old dungeons?’
‘As I told you before, old dungeons converted into comfortable quarters for some of our guests. We also have medical facilities down there.’
Ash regarded him curiously.
Maseby explained. ‘Several of our guests are not quite sound of mind, and we tend to keep them apart from our other residents. But getting back to the point: yes, I have experienced so-called cold spots in areas below ground and that doesn’t surprise me, because the castle is built on top of a promontory over the sea, and there is supposed to be a network of tunnels leading down to caves on the shoreline.’
‘Okay, so that’s easily explained. There can be any number of reasons for cold zones in the main part of buildings. A lot of structures, particularly ancient ones, and especially stone-built castles, have perfectly natural cold spots caused by draughts through the cracks in the masonry, or poor joints and crooked doors, gaps in the flooring, bricked-up chimneys or those still open, worn woodwork around windows, and leaky roofs. The list goes on.’
‘I understand that. But in one or two, there . . .’ Maseby considered his own words. ‘Well, there is a . . .’ Now he shook his head, a pragmatist searching for a way to describe the improbable. ‘I suppose you might call it an “atmosphere”.’
‘A presence?’ Kate prompted.
‘I’m not sure. Something even more intangible than that. It left me feeling very uneasy, you know, like icy spiders’ legs down the spine.’
‘Just a feeling, though,’ said Ash. ‘You didn’t actually see anything odd, anything out of place?’
Maseby bit down on his lower lip like a child thinking on a problem. ‘No. No I didn’t. But others have.’
Both Kate and Ash straightened a little, as if suddenly more alert.
‘You didn’t tell me, Simon,’ Kate reproved him.