Voices From Beyond (A Ghost Finders Novel) (10 page)

One of the reception phones rang. The sudden harsh sound was very loud, and very insistent. Sally shook her head firmly and sat back in her chair with her arms folded tightly.

“No. No way. I am not answering that! I have had it up to here with being yelled at. Or cried at. Or . . .”

“It’s your job, Sally,” said Jonathan. “You never know. It might be important . . .”

Happy looked at them, puzzled. “What is it? What are you all hearing?”

“It’s the phone,” said Melody. “Can’t you hear it ringing?”

“No,” said Happy. “None of those phones are ringing.”

They all looked at each other, for a long moment. The phone rang on and on. Happy moved over to the reception desk and looked carefully at each phone in turn before shaking his head firmly. Sally indicated one particular phone with a quick jerk of her head, refusing to uncross her arms long enough even to point at it. Happy picked up the receiver and hit the button to put it on speaker. He laid the receiver down on the desk, looked at it for a moment, then raised his voice.

“Hello? Is there anybody there?”

A voice came out of the speaker immediately; harsh but distant, as though it had travelled some impossible distance, to get to them.

“Hello, Happy. It’s coming for you. Across the worlds, it’s coming, dragging its broken chains behind it, and, oh, it’s so hungry!”

“Did you hear that, Happy?” said Melody.

“Yes,” said Happy. He addressed the speaker, his voice calm and uninflected. “Be specific. What is it that’s coming for us? And how do you know my name?”

“How do you think?” said the voice. “It’s getting closer all the time. It’s coming for all of you: like a baby crucified inside the womb; like a young mother tearing out her heart and eating it; like Death herself in fuck-me shoes. Why won’t you listen?”

Happy turned away from the phone and smiled at JC. “It’s for you.”

JC moved forward, and bent over the reception desk. “Hello?”

“Hello, JC,” said the voice. “How hard do you have to be hit to get your attention?”

“Who is this?”

“You know who this is,” said the voice.

The line went dead. JC picked up the receiver, put it to his ear, shrugged, and replaced it. He smiled engagingly at the others. “Wrong number.”

“Weird . . .” said Happy.

Melody looked at him thoughtfully. “Why couldn’t you hear the phone ringing?”

“Because it didn’t,” Happy said firmly. “None of those phones made a sound.”

“But we all heard it,” said Jonathan.

“You did,” said Happy. “But that doesn’t mean the phone was ringing.”

“You heard the voice,” said JC.

“Because someone wanted me to,” said Happy. It was his turn to look thoughtfully at JC. “Whoever that was, they seemed to think you should know them.”

“I didn’t recognise the voice,” JC said immediately. “How did they know my name? And yours? How did they even know we were here?”

“Because the voice wasn’t coming from the phone,” said Happy.

“What?” said Jonathan. “I’m sorry, I don’t . . .”

JC gave him his best professional smile. “I think you need to give us the grand tour of Radio Free Albion. Show us everything. Introduce us to everyone who’s still here. And then we’ll see . . . what we can do.”

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TALK RADIO

After a certain amount of dithering and being pressured on all sides to make up his mind, Jonathan led JC and Happy to a door at the back of the reception area, marked
STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE; AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.
This immediately cheered Happy up. He always liked going places he wasn’t supposed to go. Especially if it was the kind of place he knew would never normally lower itself to admit the likes of him. Jonathan held the door open, and Happy strode through with his nose in the air. JC started to follow him, then stopped and looked back as he realised Melody wasn’t with them. She was still standing beside her overloaded trolley, with her arms firmly folded. JC raised an eyebrow.

“Not joining us, Melody?”

“You go on,” she said. “I’ve got work to do, right here.”

“Suit yourself,” said JC. “Do you have your . . . ?”

“Yes,” said Melody. “Easily to hand, locked and loaded.” She looked past him to Happy, who had poked his head back through the door to see what the hold-up was. Melody shot him a meaningful look. “Have you got . . . everything you need?”

“No,” said Happy. “But I’ve got enough about me to be going on with.” He caught JC considering him thoughtfully. “Something on your mind, JC?”

“More than you could possibly imagine,” said JC. “Let’s go. We have people to question and ghosts to interrogate. What more could you want?”

“I’ve got a list if you’re interested,” said Happy.

“Excuse me,” said Jonathan. “But, was I supposed to understand any of that?”

“No,” said JC.

“Ah. Well, that’s all right then, I suppose,” said Jonathan. “This way, please.”

Melody waited till they were all gone, and the rear door had closed and locked itself behind them; then she relaxed a little and nodded amiably to Sally, still sitting stiffly behind her desk.

“Right! The boys are gone, so girl to girl, fill me in on what’s really going on here. I want facts, I want guesses, I want down-and-dirty gossip. I want atmosphere and all the things you know for a fact you’re not supposed to know about. Start anywhere, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Sally looked at Melody for a long moment, making up her mind. So as not to place undue pressure on the receptionist, Melody deliberately turned away and started unloading her equipment from the trolley. Which bobbed up and down a few times in a hopeful sort of way, realised it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and settled down for a sustained sulk. Melody set about assembling her various pieces of scientific equipment into their usual semi-circular configuration. Everything slotted neatly together, as she’d designed it to. And then she looked around, unhurriedly, as Sally cleared her throat.

“Can I trust you?”

“I can keep a secret,” said Melody. “Except for when I choose not to.”

“God knows I need to talk to somebody,” said Sally. “And since the only other girl in this hellhole is our leading presenter and personality, Ms.
I am so far up myself I can see out my own nostrils
Felicity bloody Legrand . . . you’ll have to do.”

“I haven’t met Ms. Legrand yet,” said Melody.

“You won’t like her,” said Sally. “No-one does, apart from her fanatical fanboy audience. Look, do you want to stop working while I’m talking, and pay attention?”

“Almost certainly not,” said Melody. “I can listen and work at the same time. I have raised multi-tasking to an art-form. If it helps, whatever you have to say will be kept in strict confidence between us. Right up to the point I decide otherwise.”

“Fair enough,” said Sally. She watched Melody bully her computers for a while but made no move to come out from behind her reception desk and help. “Don’t you need somewhere to plug in all that stuff? Only we’re a bit short of sockets in here.”

“Not a problem,” said Melody, bending over a recalcitrant monitor screen. She hit it hard a few times, to remind it which one of them was in charge. “My glorious high-tech installation comes complete with its own very powerful built-in generator. Because it’s safer that way. I won’t risk my information-gathering being compromised by local conditions. And since you can’t always depend on an uninterrupted power supply from a local source, I don’t.”

“You’re very . . . professional,” said Sally.

“You don’t last long in this game if you’re not,” said Melody. “The only things that aren’t out to kill you want to do even worse things to you. Which is why my lovely assemblage here contains a self-destruct mechanism big enough to blow up this entire house, and most of the land surrounding it. Best to be thorough about such things.”

“You’re joking . . .” said Sally.

Melody looked up. “Not even a little bit,” she said. And then went back to work.

“Cool!” said Sally, punching the air with one fist and grinning openly for the first time. “Are you guys really experts in the supernatural?”

“We know what we’re doing,” said Melody.

Sally sniffed loudly. “If that’s true, you’re the only ones here who do. I think . . . if I really understood what was going on here, I’d run away, like everyone else. Hell, I’d be a blur through that door, legging it for the nearest horizon. I can’t escape the feeling . . . that the really bad shit hasn’t even started yet.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Melody said briskly. “One thing you can always be sure of, in the kind of cases we get thrown . . . It’s always darkest before all the lights go out, and you can bet it’s going to get a lot worse before it even starts getting better.”

“You’re not big on comfort and reassurance, are you?” said Sally.

“It doesn’t come naturally, no,” said Melody. “And anyway, that’s not my department. Would you prefer a comforting lie?”

“Yes! Definitely!”

Melody looked up and smiled briefly. “Everything’s going to be fine.” And then she went back to work again.

Sally slouched down in her chair and glared balefully around the large open reception area. “I don’t like it here. Really don’t like it. Can’t you feel the atmosphere?”

“No,” said Melody. “But then, I’ve been told on many occasions that I am not the sensitive type. Which is why I surround myself with these excellent toys. They supply me with all the facts and figures I need to properly understand what’s happening. For everything else, I rely on people like you. So tell me, Sally, why did you come here in the first place? What lured you to the bright lights and scintillating possibilities of Radio Free Albion?”

“Wasn’t the money; I’ll tell you that for free.” Sally slumped even lower in her chair and tugged pensively at the heaviest of the steel rings piercing her lower lip. “We might as well talk. Helps me keep my mind off . . . things.”

“All part of the Ghost Finder service,” said Melody. “Feel free to unburden your soul.”

Sally looked at her, frowning hard. “Why would anyone in their right mind want to find a ghost?”

“So we can do something about it,” said Melody. “Can’t kick ectoplasmic arse until you’ve located it. And be sure you understand exactly what it is, so you can kick it right where it hurts most. Or at the very least, where you can do the most damage.”

Sally considered her for a long moment. “There are different kinds of ghosts?”

“Lots and lots,” Melody said cheerfully. “Everything from your basic apparition, to manifestations from the Outer Reaches to Beasts. Don’t ask about them. You really don’t want to know. I know, and I wish I didn’t.”

“Are any of these ghosts . . . safe? Harmless?”

“Hardly ever,” said Melody.

“I am changing the subject,” Sally said firmly. “On the grounds that if I actually believed what you are saying, I’d be freaking out big time. So why did I end up here? In this unholy mess? Radio Free Albion may be small-time local radio, with few pretensions, but I saw it as a stepping-stone. A way in and a way up, to bigger and better things.”

“You wanted a career in radio?” said Melody.

“No! In show business! Everyone has to start somewhere . . . I thought I could make useful contacts here, use the station as a launching pad . . . That was the plan, anyway. Before all the scary shit started happening. Just my luck; I had to choose the one haunted local radio station in England.”

Melody was about to smile and say something snarky when she realised Sally had stopped talking. She looked up and saw that the receptionist was crying, quietly. Big fat tears rolled slowly down Sally’s cheeks, even as she tried to sniff them back. She produced a grubby handkerchief from somewhere and dabbed angrily at her face.

“Sorry. Sorry . . . This isn’t me, really. I don’t do this normally. Being here, having to tough it out every day, it wears you down . . .”

Melody nodded. She didn’t leave her tech to go to Sally. She was pretty sure that wasn’t what the receptionist wanted. So Melody carried on working, assembling the last of her equipment, giving Sally time to pull herself together. After a while, Melody started talking again, careful to keep her tone calm and professional.

“When you’re faced with the supernatural, in all its unearthly and upsetting aspects, being a bit scared is the only sane response.”

“You still get scared?” said Sally. “After everything you’ve seen?” She blew her nose loudly into her handkerchief and tucked it away again.

“Of course,” said Melody. “All the time. Being a little scared is good; it keeps you sharp, and on your toes. But you have to learn not to let it get to you.”

“I was never scared of anything, before I came here,” said Sally. “Not really scared. This place has turned me into a coward. Because I can’t stand to stay in this room, for long. Because I keep having to run away.”

“You’ve got it wrong, Sally,” said Melody. “You’re not a coward because you leave; you’re brave because you keep coming back.”

Sally thought about that for a while. “Can you fix things here? Really fix them?”

“If we can’t, no-one can,” said Melody.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I know.” Melody looked up from her work long enough to smile briefly at Sally. “Talk to me, about Jonathan Hardy. What’s he like? As a person, as well as a boss.”

Sally shrugged. “Efficient enough, I suppose. Does his job, keeps the station afloat. He deals with the advertisers, and the lawyers, and all the everyday business stuff; so the rest of us don’t have to. But outside of that? Wimp city. He doesn’t want any trouble, doesn’t want any of us to make waves. He’s desperate to keep in with the new bosses. Lives in fear that they’ll fire him, in favour of someone younger because he hasn’t anywhere else to go. So he puts up with all the shit the new bosses hand down and won’t let any of us say a word.” Sally stopped and looked thoughtful. “And, I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

Melody looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he’s never once made a pass at me, all the time I’ve been here. I mean, it’s not like he’d get anywhere, but you do sort of expect it . . .”

“Ah,” said Melody. “I see.” And she went back to her work.

“That JC . . .” said Sally. “He’s a bit of all right. Is he . . . ?”

“He’s in a very committed relationship,” said Melody.

Sally shrugged. “I never do the chasing. I don’t need to. Treat them mean to keep them keen. That’s what I always say.”

“Oh yes?” said Melody. “And how is that working out for you?”

Sally scowled. “Not so good. I’m too feminine, that’s what it is. I intimidate men, put them off. Are you and Happy . . . ?”

“Yes.”

“Just asking! Are you and Happy . . . all right, together?”

“Sometimes,” said Melody. “It’s complicated. Talk to me about the rest of the staff here, Sally. Who’s still working at Radio Free Albion?”

“Only five of us now,” said Sally. “Everyone else took off long ago. Including all the technical-support guys. In fact, they were the first to leave. When they were finally forced to admit they couldn’t explain what was happening here. One by one, they did a runner, or stopped turning up; and I wish I’d gone with them . . . It gets harder and harder to come in, every morning. I only have to wake up at home, and my stomach starts hurting. And my head. I know it’s tension, pressure . . . but knowing doesn’t help. I think the hardest part of being here . . . is that there’s nothing for me to get my hands on. I’m sure I’d feel so much better if I could find someone responsible and punch them out. A little personal pay-back for what they’ve put me through.”

“I know,” said Melody. “I often feel that way. That’s why I have all this equipment. To help me find those responsible.”

“Could you find me somebody to hit?” said Sally. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Melody. She slammed her hand down on top of a computer. “Work, you bastard! Do what you’re supposed to do . . . Yes. That’s better . . . Sometimes I think I’d be better off with a trained dog.”

Sally’s head came up suddenly, and she looked sharply about her. “Hey! Did you hear that?”

Melody looked up from her computer and peered quickly around the open reception area. Everything was still and quiet. No new arrivals, nothing moving anywhere.

“No. I didn’t hear anything. What did you hear?”