Forces from Beyond

  “How did you . . . ?”

  “I’m Catherine Latimer.”

  “Of course you are, darling. Pull up a chair and park your ego.”

  Latimer looked at Chang and the snappy little gold-plated pistol Chang was pointing at her.

  “I am never unarmed,” said Natasha Chang.

  Latimer raised both hands, to show they were empty. “I come as a friend.”

  “Really?” said Chang.

  “Well,” said Latimer. “As an ally.”

  Chang shrugged and made the gun disappear. She unfolded gracefully out of her full lotus and sat on the edge of the bed, her long legs elegantly crossed. Latimer pulled up a chair and sat down facing her. Both women gave every appearance of being totally relaxed and at ease; and neither of them fooled the other for a moment.

  “Did you have a nice time, chatting with the science nerds?” said Chang. “Learn anything useful?”

  “No; and no,” said Latimer. “Except . . . there’s something wrong with the scientists.”

  “All of them?”

  “Perhaps. They’ve spent all this time studying the Flesh Undying, but I couldn’t get a single straight answer out of any of them.”

  Chang shrugged. “Scientists . . . I could go down and crack the whip over them, but I sort of get the feeling they’d enjoy it.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” said Latimer.

  “So! What can I do for you, oh hated Boss of a rival organisation?” said Chang.

  “I thought it was high time we had a nice little chat,” said Latimer. “We have so much in common, after all.”

  Chang raised an elegant eyebrow. “We do? Gosh . . . News to me.”

  “We have the same enemies,” said Latimer. “If we can just keep from killing each other long enough, I think we could achieve great things together.”

  Chang considered the point. “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

  “Destroying the Flesh Undying, obviously,” said Latimer. “And then dismantling the current regime at the Carnacki Institute. Yes, I thought you’d like that. Afterwards, I thought we might overturn the current regime at the Crowley Project.”

  “The only way to retire a Project Head is in a coffin,” said Chang. “Are you really ready to approve your grand-daughter’s death?”

  “She’s been dead to me for years,” said Latimer. “Ever since she murdered her mother.”

  Chang made a soft, pleased sound. “I never knew that!”

  “Not many do,” said Latimer. “And please, don’t act like you care.”

  “Oh, I don’t,” said Chang. “But it is . . . interesting. You know. You’re not part of the Carnacki Institute any longer. They threw you out, set you free. You don’t owe them anything. So why not come and join us at the Project? You’d be made very welcome, with your extensive experience . . . You might even end up running things. I understand there could be a vacancy soon.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Latimer.

  “Think of all the good you could do, with the power and resources of the Project at your command.”

  “Get thee behind me, Chang.”

  Chang shrugged easily. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. What is it you want from me; exactly?”

  “Backup,” said Latimer. “If necessary. The situation on this ship is . . . complicated.”

  “But what do you want me to do?” Chang said patiently. “Eat the Flesh Undying? I hate to admit it, but even my appetite has its limits, darling.”

  “You will be up here on the ship, with me, while my people go down in the bathysphere,” said Latimer. “I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with their safety; and I can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “You think there might be . . . interested parties, on board ship?” said Chang. “Maybe even agents of the Flesh Undying?”

  “Perhaps,” said Latimer. “Keep your eyes open. Darling.” She rose to her feet and went over to the door. “We both have a lot to think about, now. See you in the morning.”

  She let herself out of the cabin, and the door closed and locked itself behind her. Chang frowned, thoughtfully. For the first time Latimer wanted something from her. Something she couldn’t take or intimidate out of her. Which meant, finally, Chang had leverage over Catherine Latimer.

  Natasha Chang smiled slowly, thinking many things.

  TEN

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  DISTURBANCES IN THE NIGHT

  There’s nothing worse than waking up suddenly and not knowing where you are.

  Well, actually, there are a great many things worse than that, sometimes involving the imminent end of the world, and JC had been through most of them. But still . . . being hauled out of not enough sleep to discover you don’t recognise a single damned thing in your surroundings was right there in JC’s top ten personal horrors. He hated it.

  Kim had finally persuaded JC to lie down on the bed again and try to get some sleep. And JC had felt so exhausted by then that he’d gone along. Partly because he wanted to keep Kim happy but mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue. He didn’t believe he’d be able to sleep with so much weighing on his mind, but perhaps just the rest would do him good. Of course, the moment his head hit the mattress, and his eyes closed, he was fast asleep. Only to be roughly jolted awake by loud noises and raised voices.

  Someone was banging insistently on the cabin door and calling his name. JC sat bolt upright on the narrow bed and panicked when he realised he didn’t have a clue where he was. His heart pounded against his chest, and he had to fight to get his breath. Cold sweat beaded on his face as he looked wildly about him . . . and then he saw Kim, and it all came rushing back.

  She was standing between him and the assault on the door, ready to protect him from anything; and that immediately calmed JC down and put courage back in his heart. If only because he was damned if he’d let Kim down by being less than what she expected him to be. He drew in a deep breath, knuckled at his eyes behind his sunglasses, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “What time is it, Kim?”

  “Just past two in the A.M.,” said Kim, not even glancing at the clock on the wall. Ghosts knew things like that.

  “Answer me, JC!” said the voice on the other side of the door. “This is Catherine Latimer! Open the door! There’s an emergency!”

  “Isn’t there always,” growled JC. He got up from the bed, swayed unsteadily for a moment, and stumbled forward to glare at the closed door. He made no move to unlock it, just on general principles.

  “What kind of emergency?” he said loudly, wincing at the rough sound of his voice. “Is the Flesh Undying stirring?”

  “Something is,” said Latimer. “I think we should go up on deck and find out what. The Captain sounded very concerned.”

  “Good,” said JC. Because if he had to suffer, it made him feel better to know everyone else was having an equally bad time. Made it seem fairer.

  “Things walk the ship at night,” Kim said quietly to JC. “That’s what Captain Katt said.”

  “Sometimes, the world just won’t leave you alone,” said JC. “I’d kill for a Red Bull . . . Can you feel anything moving, up on the main deck?”

  “Something’s happening,” said Kim, frowning. “There are forces abroad in the night . . . weird shit is on the prowl. You look awful, JC.”

  “I’m awake,” said JC. “And I’m up. Asking for anything more at this point would be pushing it.”

  The heavy knocking on the door became even louder, if possible. JC winced. “All right! I’m coming! Now leave my door alone, or I’ll rip it off its hinges and beat you to death with it!”

  He tugged vaguely at his crumpled white jacket, trying to get it to hang neatly again. His marvellous suit hadn’t responded at all well to being slept in. JC felt like he
could use a shower, a complete blood transfusion, and some personal dry-cleaning. He had slept in his clothes before, on stakeout, and felt he should get danger money for what he put his clothes through. And what that did to his image. JC had always taken a certain pride in knowing that whatever supernatural beastie he ended up facing, in whatever situation, he would always be the best dressed one there. He glared at the closed door and still made no move to open it. Because that would commit him to getting involved in whatever was happening.

  “JC . . . ?” said Kim. “I really don’t think she’s going to go away . . .”

  “Working on it,” said JC. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, said some very bad things under his breath, and unlocked the door. He hauled it open and glared at Catherine Latimer, standing in the corridor. “What?”

  She glared right back at him. “You look terrible.”

  “I know!” said JC. “I wonder whose fault that is? There had better be a very good reason for disturbing me at this time, or I swear I will run amok with the nearest blunt instrument. No jury would convict me.”

  “Well . . . someone’s not a morning person,” said Latimer. “But on the other hand, it’s not a bad attitude to have when it comes to dealing with things that go walkabout in the night.”

  JC walked right at her, so that she had no choice but to back away from him. He slammed the cabin door shut behind him and winced at the noise. A moment later, Kim strode through the door and glared at him.

  “Don’t do that! You know I hate having to walk through things! It makes me feel . . . not real.”

  “Sorry,” said JC. “Blame it on the Boss.”

  “I do,” said Kim, switching her glare to Latimer. “Whenever something bad happens in your life, it’s always her fault.”

  Latimer ignored Kim and moved on down the corridor to Melody and Happy’s cabin. JC stepped quickly in between her and the door.

  “Maybe we should leave Happy be,” he said carefully. “He needs his rest even more than I do.”

  “Can’t help that,” said Latimer. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need his particular talents.” She waited till JC stepped reluctantly aside, then hammered on the door with her fist. “Mr. Palmer! Ms. Chambers! This is Catherine Latimer; you’re needed!”

  The door was suddenly pulled open, and Happy bounded out into the corridor. Full of energy, smiling widely, his eyes unbearably bright.

  “Is it pirates?” he said cheerfully. “Are we being boarded? I knew I should have packed my cutlass . . .”

  His voice trailed away as something further down the corridor caught his attention. There was nothing there that JC could see, but Happy seemed fascinated by it. Melody stepped quietly out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. She looked worn-out. She nodded to JC, and he nodded to her. It was amazing how much information you could pack into a nod.

  JC could tell Happy was back on the pills again and didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved. He only had to look at the telepath to see the damage they were doing. But Latimer was right; if there really was something nasty up on the main deck, courtesy of the Flesh Undying, they were going to need Happy at the height of his abilities to deal with it. Melody looked accusingly at Latimer but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

  “Is Happy up to this, Mel?” JC said quietly.

  “He’s better when he’s doing something,” she said, just as quietly. “There’s nothing more I can do for him.”

  JC picked up on the loss and feeling of failure in her voice but didn’t know what to say.

  “I feel fine!” Happy said loudly. “Fine!”

  For a long moment, they all just stood there in the corridor, looking at each other, thinking many things but saying nothing.

  “I am a telepath,” Happy said finally. “So I know what you’re all thinking. And you, Boss; you should be ashamed. Just . . . generally.”

  They all jumped as a cabin door slammed open further down the corridor, and Natasha Chang appeared. Looking immaculate in her pink leather outfit, complete with pink pillbox hat perched on the back of her perfectly arranged hair. JC felt obscurely outraged. She had no right to look that good after only a few hours’ sleep. Chang scowled at them all impartially.

  “You weren’t going to call me, were you? You were planning to go up on deck and leave me behind! I hate being left out of things. I want to play, too!”

  “Let her come,” JC said to Latimer. “She’ll only make a fuss if we don’t.”

  “Loudly and violently and all over the place,” said Chang.

  “Come on then,” said Latimer. “I’m sure we can find a use for you, Ms. Chang.”

  “If only as something to hide behind when the ectoplasm hits the fan,” said Melody.

  Happy giggled.

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  Up on the main deck, the air was cool and fresh, but the night was very dark, beyond the massed lights of the Moonchilde. Fierce arc-lights had been strung up on high, illuminating the whole length of the deck with a harsh glare. No-one trusted the shadows; they might be hiding something. The night sky held only the barest sliver of a new moon though the stars seemed sharp and distinct. JC looked quickly around him but couldn’t see anything immediately threatening. The night scene gave every indication of being calm and pleasant and entirely undisturbed. JC smiled at Kim.

  “You know . . . anywhen else, this would have made a nice romantic getaway. A stroll in the night with my best girl, on a ship out at sea, far from anywhere . . .”

  “I always wanted to take a nice cruise somewhere romantic,” said Kim, falling in with his mood. “Visit exotic places, with names I only ever heard in films . . . A seat at the Captain’s table . . . I always wanted to go for a promenade around the deck; and I don’t even know what a promenade is!”

  “Concentrate, children,” said Latimer.

  “You are no fun,” Kim said haughtily.

  Spotlights from on high lit up the waters all around the ship and moved restlessly back and forth. There were no crewmen in the rigging to direct them, so JC assumed the lights were being operated by remote control, probably by the scientists down in their bunker. An awful lot of the ship’s crew had turned out to patrol the main deck, every one of them heavily armed. They stopped frequently to inspect every nook and cranny, and no man went off on his own, even for a moment, clearly something they’d learned the hard way. Their faces were set and grim, and they were all just a bit jumpy, in a highly dangerous and ready to shoot the shit out of everything kind of way. Their guns had moved immediately to cover the Ghost Finders the moment they appeared on deck before reluctantly turning away again. The crew didn’t approve of the new visitors; but they were more scared of other things.

  JC strode over to the polished brass railings and peered over the side of the ship. The night outside the ship’s lights seemed very dark—the kind of night that could conceal anything. Latimer moved in beside him, looked quickly around, sniffed loudly a couple of times, then led her group off in search of Captain Katt. They found him standing beside the bathysphere, staring out at the dark.

  “I find its solid presence reassuring,” he said, without having to be asked. “And on this ship, you learn to take your reassurances where you can find them.”

  “Are all your crew up on deck, Captain?” said Latimer.

  “All those not needed for essential duties,” said Katt.

  “Some of them should be guarding the scientists,” said Chang.

  “My men guard the ship, Ms. Chang,” said Katt. “The safety of the ship comes first.”

  “Your job is to make sure nothing happens to the scientists,” Chang said coldly. “Any one of them is more important to the Project than all the ship’s crew put together. Including you, Captain. I want those scientists properly guarded!”

  Katt looked at her, the
n quietly detailed half a dozen crewmen to go below and guard all entrances and approaches to the scientists’ bunker. Chang smiled briefly, satisfied she’d established who was really in charge on the Moonchilde. JC looked up and down the ship’s deck. Nothing was happening. The night seemed calm and peaceful. But JC didn’t trust it. There was a feeling on the air, of something really bad just waiting to happen. The crew could feel it, too; it was obvious in their darting looks and sudden movements. They had the look of an army patrol that had wandered into enemy-occupied territory.

  “Why did you call us up here, Captain?” JC said quietly. “What’s the nature of the emergency? I don’t see anything . . .”

  “My lookouts reported activity in the night,” said Katt, not even glancing at JC. “Movements, sounds . . . Things moving in the waters.”

  “What kinds of things?” said Melody.

  “Nothing good,” said Katt.

  “Could be dolphins . . .” said Chang.

  “Nothing lives in these waters any more!” Katt said sharply. “Nothing can live in these cursed waters . . . The scientists say they’re picking up something on their short-range scanners, but they can’t tell me what. All they could say for sure was that whatever’s out there . . . are not in any way natural presences.” He snorted briefly. “Like I needed them to tell me that. A fine collection of minds you’ve burdened me with, Ms. Chang. If I had time, I’m beat them all to death with an albatross.”

  “You think whatever’s happening is linked to the Flesh Undying?” said JC.

  “There’s nothing else out here,” said Katt.

  “The Flesh Undying is restless,” said Happy. “It’s dreaming . . .”

  Captain Katt looked dubiously at the telepath. Happy was staring off into the dark, his eyes wide and unblinking. His voice had been dreamy, almost fey. JC moved in beside him.

  “What are you picking up, Happy?”

  “Hard to tell . . . Presences, right enough, but there’s a strange lack of definition to them. Unfinished, incomplete . . . Not really conscious, as such.”