THREE
Haunted by More
Than One Past
I thought about what Parker said, and what he didn’t say, all the way back up the stairs, while MacKay maintained a respectful silence. Why had Parker decided to come back? What, precisely, had brought him back out of the shadows after all this time? And why had he asked to be brought to Ringstone Lodge, in particular? I had to smile, quietly, to myself. Parker had baited his hook very cleverly; even I was intrigued to find out what it was he had to tell us. But that wasn’t my job. I wasn’t here to learn the truth, just to keep the man alive while we figured out whether or not he really was Parker.
I had no idea. He sounded like the real thing, but an agent is an agent whoever he works for. And no one’s more convincing than a con man with the very latest line in snake oil to sell you. The only way to beat the con is to not want whatever it is that they’re selling.
Back in the entrance hall I found Penny had been left all on her own, sitting on a chair in the corner, one crossed leg idly swinging. She bounced up on to her feet, nodded to MacKay, and beamed happily at me.
“Welcome back! How was the underworld?”
“Not quite as illuminating as I hoped,” I said. “Where is everybody?”
“Security ’R’ Us decided they just had to go check out the grounds and the perimeter,” said Penny. “In case we were followed here from the station.”
“I think one of us would have noticed,” I said.
“Almost certainly,” said MacKay. “But it is best to be sure, regarding such matters.”
“Baxter and Redd didn’t try to bother you?” I said to Penny. “Put on the pressure as to why we’re here?”
“Oh sure,” said Penny. “But I just went all girly on them and they didn’t know how to cope.”
“What about Philip Martin?” I said.
“Gone back to his little hutch to keep his beady eye on everything.”
“I am going to have to take a look at this security centre at some point,” I said to MacKay.
“Of course, sir.”
“Doctor Hayley and Doctor Doyle are currently plotting together in the lounge,” said Penny. “I was very pointedly not invited.”
“They’ll be wanting to talk to you now,” said MacKay. “About what you’ve learned from Mr. Parker.”
Penny raised an eyebrow at him. “They’d better not be planning to interrogate Ishmael. He really doesn’t take kindly to that.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I don’t.”
“I am sure it is all in the name of sharing useful information,” said MacKay. “We belong to the same team, after all.”
“Really?” I said. “I don’t think Hayley and Doyle got that memo. But by all means, let’s play nice and pretend we’re all here for the same reasons. I have questions of my own, for those two. Lead on, MacKay.”
A few nicely appointed corridors later, MacKay ushered us into an extremely comfortable lounge. Big and airy, with the usual old-fashioned country-house furniture and a great bay window that looked out over the grounds. Fierce light from the overhead chandelier pushed back the growing darkness outside. Hayley and Doyle were sitting side by side on a large sofa, drinking tea out of delicate china cups. They looked up sharply as we entered, put their cups down on the coffee table before them and, ignoring both Penny and MacKay, fixed me with stern but anticipatory stares. For two such experienced interrogators, their faces and body language were surprisingly easy to read. Or maybe that was just me. Hayley was clearly brimming over with questions concerning things she thought she knew about me. Doyle was nervous about facing such an experienced field agent and trying very hard not to show it. Both of them made a point of not standing up as I entered, partly to remind me of their doctorly authority but mostly because it would have been difficult for either of them to get up out of the depths of the sofa and still retain any dignity.
An open laptop had been placed on the coffee table, next to a pile of old Country Life magazines. The sound had been turned down just before we entered. I caught a quick glimpse of the screen, showing me talking to Parker, before Hayley shut the laptop down completely. As though she didn’t want me to see which part of the interview she’d been so interested in. I gave her my best enigmatic smile, to show her I could play the secrets game too. Doyle had a fat official file perched on one knee. The closed cover had the three red diagonal stripes that meant “For your eyes only.” I dropped bonelessly into a chair facing the two doctors and arranged myself comfortably. Penny perched elegantly on the arm of my chair, crossing her long legs to show them off to their best advantage. But the doctors still only had eyes for me. I was their target. MacKay moved off a way to take up a position by the bay window, where he could watch us and look outside at the same time.
Hayley stretched out an imperious hand to Doyle, who handed over the official file without a murmur. Hayley opened the file and leafed through it, taking her time. Penny looked at me, to see how I wanted to play this. I just smiled and sank back in my chair. I was in no hurry. Hayley wanted to talk about what I’d learned from Parker, which meant she had to come to me for answers. But she was putting it off so as not to seem too eager, too needy. Doyle split his attention between Hayley and me, waiting to see which of us would speak first. I was very interested in the file. The three red stripes on the cover meant it contained information on Parker that the Organization felt I didn’t need to know. And I wanted to know. I really don’t like it when people keep things from me. I could have snatched the file away from Hayley and taken a look for myself; but that would only have led to raised voices and tears before bedtime, and I still had to work with these people. So I just settled comfortably in my chair and smiled easily at one and all. I could always steal the file later, if I needed to. But I doubted there was anything in it to tell me why Parker had chosen to walk away from the Organization, or anything else I really wanted to know.
Doyle stirred restlessly and leaned forward on the sofa to address me. “Now you’ve spoken to our man of mystery, Ishmael, do you think he really is the legendary Frank Parker?”
“He sounds like the real deal,” I said carefully. “But then if he’s been properly coached by the opposition, he would do. Wouldn’t he? He’s saying all the right things and holding back when you’d expect him to. But I am a little surprised that he’s so insistent on talking to you . . .”
“We’ve already had a brief word with the man,” said Doyle. “Exploratory talks, you understand, opening gambits and all that . . .”
“What did he have to say?” I said. “Anything interesting?”
“Not really,” said Doyle. “A very close-mouthed man, our Mr. Parker.”
“I didn’t have any problems,” I said. “But then, we have more in common. Have you got any useful information out of him yet?”
“Nothing worth having,” said Hayley. She slammed the file shut and glared at me. “We heard everything you said. The fascinating cut and thrust of clashing egos. He’s hiding something.”
“Of course he is,” said MacKay. “But not necessarily what we think.”
We all looked at him, but he had nothing more to say. He looked out the bay window at the grounds, as though expecting an attack at any moment. Hayley studied me suspiciously.
“Parker did seem to know an awful lot about you, Ishmael. Which is odd, considering the two of you have never met before. Officially. I wonder what he’ll tell us about you, once we get to work on him?”
“I’m interested in that myself,” I said. I slouched down a little more in my chair, just to make it clear I wasn’t intimidated by her tone. I looked thoughtfully at her, and then at Doyle. “I don’t know how high your security clearance goes, but I would advise you to be very careful over which particular cans of worms you choose to pry open. Apart from anything else, if there really are bad apples inside the Organization . . .”
“We only have his word for that,” Doyle said judiciously. “It could just be a bargaining ploy to make us take him more seriously.”
“And encourage us to make him a better deal,” said Hayley.
“But what if it isn’t?” said Penny. “If you don’t know how far up the rot goes? Who can you trust?”
“It does add a certain urgency to the situation,” said Doyle. “But that could be the point. To hurry us into precipitous and unwise decisions.”
“You did get some interesting information out of the man,” Hayley said reluctantly. “We’ve already had Martin contact Headquarters, suggesting that they set their hounds on the trail of the woman and child.”
“So you can access the child’s DNA?” I said. “Or so you can threaten them in order to put pressure on Parker? Nothing like holding a knife to a loved one’s throat to bring a reluctant prisoner into line.”
“Exactly,” said Hayley.
Penny looked at her as though she was some kind of poisonous insect. Hayley didn’t seem in the least concerned.
“Parker had to know our little chat was being recorded,” I said. “And that you’d be bound to go after the woman and child once he mentioned them. I don’t think anything he said, no matter how casual, was unintended. Perhaps he wants the Organization to find them for him, because he hasn’t been able to do so.”
“Do you think that’s why he came back?” said Penny. “Because of them?”
“Possibly,” I said. “But why now, after all these years? Doctor Hayley, Doctor Doyle, is there anything in Parker’s unexpurgated file that I ought to know?”
Hayley’s mouth tightened into a flat line and she met my gaze defiantly. In this at least she had the advantage and wasn’t about to give it up. Then Doyle cleared his throat, and she shot him a glance of betrayal.
“Nothing particularly earth-shattering,” said Doyle. “Just more details, on the various cases he handled.”
“Do you recognize any of these case names, Mr. Jones?” said Hayley. “The Inverted Pyramid in the Pacific, The Hidden Sixth Side of the Pentagon, The Occasional Cities of the Black Sun?” She watched my face carefully as she ran through the titles.
“You made those up!” said Penny. And then she stopped and looked at me. “Those are real? Really?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “I’ve heard of all of them, but I can’t see a connection to anything I’ve worked on.”
“But you have heard of them,” Hayley said accusingly. “Even though, technically speaking, you must know you’re not supposed to have done so.”
“I hear all kinds of things, in my line of work,” I said. “Gossip is what makes the secret agent’s world go round. The trick is to tell people things that don’t matter in the hope they’ll tell you things that do. Of course, a lot of the time you don’t know what really matters until you find out the hard way, much later. I don’t see how any of those cases could possibly connect to what’s happening here. And let’s face it, you can cross-examine Parker all you like, hoping to catch him out in a detail here and a name there. But if he is a fake, you can be sure he’ll have been very thoroughly briefed and you won’t trip him up on anything that obvious.”
Hayley nodded reluctantly and put the file to one side.
“Frank Parker had an excellent record as a field agent,” said Doyle. “A high success rate, with minimum exposure and an acceptable level of civilian casualties.”
“Which is not always the way,” said Hayley. “I have read about what happened at Belcourt Manor, Mr. Jones.”
“Change the subject,” I said.
Something in my tone must have got through to her, because she averted her gaze.
Penny fixed Hayley with her coldest stare. “What does your file tell you about the kind of person Parker was? I mean, was he an honourable man? Could he have come back just because he discovered there were traitors inside the Organization?”
“He did imply he left because he found out the Organization wasn’t what he wanted it to be,” I said. “Perhaps he wants to save it from itself?”
“Honourable behaviour?” said Hayley, almost smirking. “Rare, I would have thought. In your line of work.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I said. “What is a cynic after all, except a disappointed idealist? People get into our line of work for all kinds of reasons.”
“And you, Ishmael?” said Doyle, quite casually. “What brought you into the hidden world?”
“I belong there,” I said. “It feels like home.”
“We were assured we could expect your full cooperation,” Hayley said coldly. “But I have to say you’re not being very forthcoming.”
“I don’t have to be,” I said cheerfully. “I’m just here to oversee the process and make sure everything runs smoothly. Parker is the subject of your interrogation, not me.” And then I stopped and studied Doyle and Hayley carefully. “Unless, of course, things have changed . . .”
“No, sir, they have not,” MacKay said immediately. “You are currently in charge of Ringstone Lodge, with authority over everyone here. My instructions on that were most particular.”
“Good to know,” I said. I gestured at Parker’s file. “It could be that we’re looking in the wrong place. It’s always possible the answer lies in where Parker went after he left.”
Hayley opened the heavy file again and turned to a section at the back. “We have some information on that. Parker seems to have done secret work for all the usual subterranean groups, at one time or another. Quite often he would work for one side and then go do something for their opposite number. Almost as if he was trying to balance things out. Interesting.”
“But what kind of work did he do?” I said.
“Does it matter?” said Penny.
“It might,” I said.
“Information gathering and wet work,” said Hayley. “He was very skilled at both.”
“Wait a minute,” said Penny. “You mean . . .”
“Yes,” said Doyle. “That much we can be sure of. Mostly, Frank Parker killed people.”
“Bad people?” Penny said tentatively.
“Good and bad, inasmuch as the terms have any meaning in intelligence work,” said Hayley, almost offhandedly. She was working her way through the file, turning the pages more and more quickly. “His targets included high-up personages and complete unknowns. He didn’t seem to care who he was sent after, as long as someone was willing to pay to see them dead. Parker was a consummate professional, untroubled by any sense of conscience or morality.”
“But he stopped,” I said. “Just gave it all up and walked away. Disappeared so completely even the most experienced people on both sides couldn’t find him. So why did he stop?”
“Maybe he decided he had enough money,” said Doyle. “But then later something went wrong, the money ran out . . . And that’s why he’s back.”
“Looking to sell his soul one more time,” said Hayley. “In return for protection from the one Organization that could hide him from all the enemies he’s made.”
“Could there be a clue in the new faces he chose?” Penny said suddenly. “Character traits in common, for example? Perhaps they were the faces of people he wanted to be?”
Hayley and Doyle looked at each other, and then Hayley flipped back to the beginning of the file and the photos showing Parker’s previous faces. She looked them over carefully, with Doyle leaning in close beside her.
“Interesting idea,” Hayley said finally.
Doyle nudged her arm and she reluctantly laid the file on the coffee table, in front of Penny and me. And then she turned away and rested her chin on her hand, staring off into space and thinking hard. Doyle watched her do it. I studied the various photos carefully, but couldn’t see any connection between the faces.
“To change his appearance this completely,” I said finally, “Parker must have undergone major plastic surgeries, including subcutaneous implants to change the shape of his face.”
Hayley looked at me sharply. “Implants? Are you sure? No one said anything about implants.”
“It’s what I would have done,” I said smoothly. “Surgery just alters the outer appearance; you have to change the underlying bone structure if you want to make yourself really unrecognizable. But why did he feel the need to change his face that much? So he could tell himself he wasn’t the person who’d done so many bad things? He said something to me about not liking to look at himself in the mirror. Check the recording and get the exact words.”
“All these faces have one thing in common,” said Penny. “None of them look particularly happy.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Paging Doctor Freud . . .”
“But on the other hand,” said Doyle, “our guest could be using these past faces to hide the fact that he isn’t Parker.”
“The man in the cell has had surgery and implants,” I said. “I saw the scars.”
Doyle frowned. “Really? I couldn’t see anything.”
“I have experience in these matters,” I said.
“Are you saying you’ve changed your face, Ishmael?” said Hayley.
I just smiled.
“Frank Parker is famously supposed to be unkillable,” said MacKay. “If all else fails, we could try killing him. See if it takes.” We all looked at him. He took in our faces and shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“I think we’ll leave that as a last resort,” I said. “Rather than risk losing the goose that could still lay golden eggs.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“I need to talk to Parker,” said Hayley. She closed the file with a snap. “Really get to work on the man.”
She didn’t actually rub her hands together in anticipation, but the sound of it was in her voice. Doyle nodded solemnly.
“He’ll crack. They all do, in the end.”
Penny didn’t even try to hide her distaste. “Whatever happened to the Hippocratic oath?”
“Suspended,” said Hayley. “For the duration.”
“The duration of what?” said Penny.
“Sorry,” Hayley said smugly. “That’s classified.”
I considered her thoughtfully. “What exactly are your orders? To get to the truth? Or to break the subject? Because it does occur to me that if you were to decide this isn’t Parker, then the Organization wouldn’t have to take his accusations of traitors seriously.”
“Everyone here wants him to be the real Frank Parker,” Doyle said firmly. “Because bringing his valuable information to the Organization would be a success big enough to make all of us. Even apart from the traitors within, what Parker knows could bring down any number of important enemies and save the lives of many of our people currently out in the field.”
“Really?” said Penny.
“Of course!” said Doyle.
“The hidden world is in a constant state of undeclared war, Miss Belcourt,” said Hayley. “You must have noticed. And in a war like ours, information is ammunition. If Parker really has what he says he has, then we want it. But if we get it wrong, if we let a fake get past us, the damage his disinformation could do to the Organization would be incalculable. He could spend years eating away at us from the inside. As a sleeper, a saboteur, an assassin . . .”
“So,” I said. “No pressure, then.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to kill Mr. Parker?” said MacKay. “It wouldn’t be any bother.”
“No,” I said firmly.
“We have to get back to Parker,” said Hayley. “We were just starting to make some progress with him when word came that you were on your way and everything had to be put on hold till you got here.”
Hayley and Doyle stared at me challengingly. I just smiled and met their gaze perfectly steadily.
Penny gave me a hard look. “You’re being far too casual about this, Ishmael. Would you let them torture Parker, if that was what it took?”
“Of course not,” I said.
No one in the room looked like they believed me. But I could hardly say to Penny, “It depends . . .”
“My associate and I have a long and successful record in getting the truth out of people, Penny,” said Hayley. “This case may be a little more complicated than most, but we’ll get there.”
“It’s what we do,” said Doyle.
They exchanged tight professional smiles, the little black woman in the business suit and the dumpy college professor. Sometimes the most frightening people can have the most ordinary faces.
“Whatever happened to showing good faith and winning a man’s trust?” said Penny, stubbornly returning to her point. “You never know, you might get better results out of Parker that way.”
“We don’t have the time,” said Hayley.
“Or the inclination?” I said.
“We have to make a decision soon as to who he is,” said Doyle, “so we can decide where to send him next.”
“What are the options?” I said.
“Just two,” said MacKay. “Either we pass him on to a more secure location where he can safely unburden himself of all he knows. Or we bury him among the tombstones at the side of the Lodge.”
Penny was shaken by his bluntness. I wasn’t.
“We need to get back to work,” said Hayley. “Time is not on our side.”
“It never is,” I said. “Go ahead. Don’t let me keep you.”
Penny shot me a look, as though she’d still been half expecting me to stop them. To protect Parker from the nasty interrogators. But that wasn’t what I was there for. I met Penny’s gaze steadily. Her mouth tightened, and she turned away from me.
“Before you go, doctors,” said Penny, “there’s something else we need to discuss.”
“What?” said Hayley, with heavy patience.
“The hauntings,” said Penny.
“They need to get to work, Penny,” I said.
“I’m not stopping them! I’m just interested.”
I looked around. MacKay’s face was unreadable, but interestingly Hayley and Doyle both looked unhappy. As though they really wished Penny hadn’t asked them that question.
“No one in the Lodge has seen a ghost,” said Hayley. “As such.”
“But there have been . . . unexplained incidents,” said Doyle.
“Things that go bump in the night?” said Penny.
“And in the daytime,” said MacKay.
“And you’ve actually seen these things?” I said.
“We have all seen or heard something,” said MacKay.
“I’m not convinced it’s anything more than group hysteria, from all the pressure we’re under,” said Hayley. “Cabin fever.”
“What I find particularly interesting,” said Doyle, his professionalism coming to the fore almost in spite of himself, “is that it’s never anything you can put your finger on. Never anything definite or identifiable.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Penny asked bluntly. “Ishmael keeps saying he doesn’t . . .”
“I don’t,” I said. “I really don’t. Why are you having such a hard time believing me?”
“How can you say that?” said Penny. “After everything we’ve seen.”
“In all my time in the field,” I said, “dealing with the darkest areas of the hidden world, I have never once encountered a ghost or a spirit. Or anything to convince me that the dead ever come back to bother the living.”
“But what about . . .?”
“Hush,” I said. “Not in front of the children. I’m not convinced she was anything more than some kind of creature, perhaps an evolutionary offshoot.”
“Denial isn’t just a river in Africa,” said Penny.
I looked at her. “Sometimes I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I am more than willing to entertain the notion that there is a scientific explanation for the . . . unusual things we have all experienced,” said MacKay. “If only someone would provide one.”
“Dead is dead!” said Hayley.
“They are if I have anything to do with it,” I said.
“I still favour the idea that it’s all some kind of psychic phenomenon,” said Doyle. “The stone tape theory, with the solid structure of the Lodge playing back stored memories of past events.”
Hayley sniffed loudly. “The world has enough strange things in it without dragging in pseudoscience.”
“And yet,” murmured MacKay, “still, it moves . . .”
Hayley and Doyle looked at each other and had nothing more to say. Penny looked at me triumphantly.
“Come with me, Mr. Jones, Miss Belcourt,” MacKay said finally. “It’s time you visited Mr. Martin in his security centre. He can present to you what evidence we have of the supernatural at play in the Lodge.”
“Good,” I said. “Evidence is always good.”
And back through the pleasantly appointed corridors we went. With so few people in it, the Lodge seemed almost eerily quiet. Like walking through a hotel after all the guests have been evacuated. The absence of people can make just as strong an impression as a noisy crowd. Silence has a presence all its own. The security centre was tucked away just round the corner from the entrance hall, behind a closed, locked and heavily reinforced steel door. An ominous presence, in the country hotel setting. MacKay didn’t even bother to knock, just leaned in close to the intercom grille.
“Mr. Martin, you reprehensible creature! This is MacKay. Open up.”
There was a pause. During which I thought I detected a brief uncertainty in MacKay’s face, as if there was a real chance Martin might not let us in, just to show MacKay up. And then there was the sound of several heavy locks disengaging, one after the other, and the door swung slowly back. I looked thoughtfully at the layers of steel upon steel that made up the door. I like to think there isn’t any door that could keep me out if I just put my mind or my shoulder to it, but this one looked like it could give me some serious problems.
MacKay politely but firmly insisted on entering the security centre first, presumably to reassure Martin with a familiar face. Like a keeper at a zoo. Once we were all inside, and the door had closed itself firmly behind us, the room seemed uncomfortably small. It was packed with all kinds of surveillance equipment, a lot of which still had that bright shiny look that suggested it had come straight from its packaging. Some of the tech was so advanced I had trouble deciding what it was, and it’s part of my job to be up to date on such things. Rows of monitor screens covered three of the walls, crammed together and showing detailed views of the interior and exterior of Ringstone Lodge, including the woods, the grounds and the perimeter walls. Which added up to a hell of a lot of hidden cameras.
Philip Martin sat in the middle of it all, on a battered old swivel chair that made soft protesting noises as he turned this way and that, his gaze jumping from one screen to another. He didn’t get up to greet us as we entered, just nodded brusquely to MacKay and Penny, and scowled at me. There were no other chairs in the room, and it didn’t look safe to lean on any of the equipment.
“All right,” I said. “Show me everything. You know you want to.”
“Welcome to my world,” said Martin. “I see all, hear all, and remain diplomatically quiet about most of it. Unless it’s really funny. Watch, and wonder.”
His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard resting on his lap. The views on the screens zoomed in and out, closing in on individual trees in the woods or opening up to show whole sections of the grounds. Martin smiled proudly as he presented us with shuffled glimpses of room after room and all kinds of sounds picked up by hidden microphones. One screen hooked on to movement in the woods, and Martin zoomed in to show Baxter and Redd emerging from the dark shadows between the trees. Martin boosted the sound levels so we could hear what they were saying.
“Ishmael Jones!” said Baxter. “I ask you! What kind of a name is that? If he’s going to use a cover name, he could at least choose something that doesn’t sound so obviously fake. Bloody field agents. Always looking down on the rank and file like us, who do all the real work. Ishmael Jones . . . He thinks he’s so much. I could take him.”
“Pretty sure you couldn’t,” said Redd. “Field agents are supposed to be just a bit special when it comes to the old ultraviolence.”
Baxter growled and shook his head. “They make that stuff up to scare the opposition. You watch how fast he backs down once I stand up to him.”
Martin shut down the sound. “If he was any more alpha male, he’d sweat testosterone. You want to steer clear of him, Ishmael. He’s trouble.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “So am I. Show me Frank Parker. What’s he doing right now?”
“Not a lot,” said Martin.
He gestured to one particular screen. And there was Parker sitting on his bed in his cell, looking at nothing. He didn’t seem to have moved since I left him.
“Now, that is spooky!” said Penny. “A man in his position shouldn’t be that calm. Not with all the things he’s got to be worried about. If I was in there, I’d be climbing those walls by now.”
“Yes,” I said. “But he’s been trained. This is what I would expect to see from an experienced field agent. Show no fear, show no weakness. Give your interrogators nothing to work with. He has something they want, so that puts him in the driver’s seat.”
“I could send Baxter and Redd down there, when they return,” said MacKay. “Have them beat some of the cockiness out of him.”
“No you couldn’t,” I said. “Even allowing for his age, a trained field agent could still kick the crap out of a couple of standard thugs. And if by some chance one of them did get in a lucky shot and Parker fell and hit his head, a man with concussion isn’t going to be answering any questions. I really don’t think the Organization would be too happy about that.”
MacKay inclined his head. “You are of course entirely correct, Mr. Jones. I withdraw the suggestion.”
“First you want to kill him, and now you want him beaten up!” said Penny. “Don’t you like Parker?”
“He’s a traitor,” said MacKay. And in his voice was all the merciless judgement of the old soldier.
I looked at Parker, sitting there in his cell. “He’s a professional. But whose professional? He came home to this country when he could have gone anywhere, sold his information to anyone. I think it has something to do with the woman and child he mentioned. The family he never knew.”
“I never knew my father,” said Martin. “Grew up perfectly well without one. Families are overrated.”
I nodded, slowly. “Hayley and Doyle said they’d already talked to him. Do you have that recording?”
Martin looked to MacKay. “Doctor Hayley told me not to let anyone else see it . . .”
“Mr. Jones is in charge,” said MacKay. “Show him anything he wishes to see.”
Martin shrugged. “So long as you keep the vultures off my back . . .”
His hands darted across the keyboard, and a screen suddenly cleared to show us Hayley and Doyle sitting together on the sofa in the lounge. They had Parker’s unexpurgated file open on the coffee table before them. They seemed much more relaxed on their own.
“This isn’t what I asked to see,” I said.
“It’s relevant,” Martin said quickly. “Keep watching.”
“We’ve been through this, Alice,” Doyle was saying patiently. “The Organization was very clear about which questions they want us to ask. We’re supposed to compile a complete list of everyone Parker ever worked for, and details of all the missions he carried out for them.”
“We haven’t got time for that, Robbie,” said Hayley. “Let’s just prove it’s really him, and then someone else can dig out the rest.”
Penny looked at me and mouthed “Alice” and “Robbie.” As if she couldn’t believe such cold-blooded interrogators could have such ordinary names.
“I’ll be amazed if Parker tells us one thing he doesn’t want us to know,” Hayley continued. “That man is a professional hard case.” She stretched slowly, her face becoming almost sensuous as she savoured the sensation. “I wonder how much we can persuade him to tell us about the traitors?”
“No, Alice,” said Doyle, smiling indulgently. “Until we know for sure who we’re dealing with, we can’t even raise the subject. Or allow him to. We don’t want him casting suspicions, in case it makes the Organization distrust perfectly good people. Which might be what this is all about, after all.”
“I love it when you boss me around, Robbie,” said Hayley. And she gave Doyle a surprisingly wicked smile before returning to the subject. “It’s the areas we’re not supposed to get into that fascinate me. Aren’t you tempted to ask him anyway? I know I am.”
“Of course I’m tempted,” said Doyle. “But I’m not going to, and neither are you.”
“Don’t be such a poop, Robbie. Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to end up sitting in a cell next door to Parker, waiting for an interview with someone like us.”
“You always were the sensible one. But aren’t you excited? This is the first time we’ve had access to an actual field agent. The knowledge we gain could be invaluable!”
“Yes . . .” said Doyle. “Well . . . as long as we’re careful, Alice. And I mean quite extraordinarily careful.”
“Of course, sweetie.”
They leaned towards each other, and Martin hurried to shut the screen down.
“Did they know they were being recorded?” said Penny.
“They should have,” said Martin. “I told them every room in the Lodge is covered by hidden cameras and microphones. But it’s hard to be on your guard all the time.”
“Love among the headshrinkers,” said Penny. “The horror! I wonder if he psychoanalyses her in bed?”
“Before or after?” I said.
Penny grinned. “Probably during . . .”
“Moving on,” I said. I looked to Martin, who was smirking broadly. “Are you ready to show me the Parker interview now?”
“Hold on to your socks!” said Martin. “This is the good stuff.”
The screen changed to show Hayley and Doyle standing together in front of Parker’s cell. He stood on the other side of the bars, facing them calmly. Hayley gave him her best scowl, but if Parker was in any way intimidated he made a really good job of hiding it.
“I thought it would be you,” he said. “Doctor Hayley, Doctor Doyle. You’ve made a name for yourselves these past few years. Not a particularly nice name, but I suppose that goes with the territory.”
“You must have known this was going to happen, Frank,” said Doyle. “Interrogation and debriefing are standard procedure in cases like yours.”
“There are no cases like mine,” said Parker. “And of course I knew, I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Hayley and Doyle exchanged a glance, and then Hayley fixed Parker with her best cold stare.
“Stand back from the bars now, Frank. And keep both your hands where we can see them.”
“I have been very thoroughly searched,” Parker said easily. “Including all my important little places. I thought I was going to have to get engaged at one point. Yes, I know . . . standard procedure.”
He backed away from the bars, not taking his eyes off Hayley and Doyle, until he bumped against the rear wall of his cell. Hayley raised her voice.
“Martin, open the door.”
The lock on the cell door made a series of complicated sounds as Martin operated it by remote control, and then the bars slid smoothly sideways. Hayley and Doyle stepped inside the cell and the bars immediately slid back into position. Parker sat down on the bed, without asking for permission. He kept his hands ostentatiously in sight, clasped together in his lap, and smiled engagingly at Hayley and Doyle.
“Well, isn’t this cozy? I would ask you to sit down, but I haven’t been supplied with any chairs. There is the toilet, if one of you isn’t too fussy. Or you could snuggle up beside me on the bed. No? Suit yourselves. Feel free to lean against the wall. Or not, as you wish. Now, what shall we talk about?”
Hayley stepped forward, taking the lead. Doyle stayed where he was, watching Parker carefully.
“Why have you chosen to come back now, Frank?” said Hayley. “Did something happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” said Parker. “I want to talk about what’s wrong inside the Organization.”
“We’re not allowed to discuss that,” said Doyle. “You must understand, Frank, we’re not cleared for that level of information.”
“Then send for someone who is,” said Parker. “There are things the Organization needs to know. Urgently.”
“We’ve been given a list of things to ask you, Frank,” said Hayley. “You have to give us something, so we can give you something.”
“No,” said Parker. “Go back and talk to your superiors. Get all the clearances you need, or you’re wasting my time. If you aren’t up to this, pass me on to someone who is. I don’t know how much time I’ve got before someone turns up at the Lodge looking for me.”
“You’re perfectly safe here, Frank,” said Hayley.
“I know all about Ringstone Lodge,” said Parker. “Everyone in our line of business does. Which means our mutual enemies will expect to find me here. I can’t stay long. It isn’t safe. For any of us.”
“You’re in no position to make demands, Frank,” said Doyle.
“I think you’ll find I am,” said Parker.
“We’re here to get answers out of you,” said Hayley. “And we’re prepared to be very persuasive.”
“Get your clearance,” said Frank, “And I’ll tell you everything. All kinds of amazing things.”
“You assured the Organization you would cooperate, Frank,” said Doyle.
“I am,” said Parker. “Ask me anything you like about my past. I can talk about that. Enough to convince you I’m me. But the real stuff, the reason I’m here, that’s too important to put off for long.”
“Frank . . .” said Hayley.
“No,” said Parker. “You’re wasting time, and the Organization won’t thank you for it. Not once they know what I know.”
Hayley and Doyle looked at each other, then moved back to the cell door. It slid open and they left. Parker waited till the bars had closed again, and then raised his voice after them.
“And when you come back, don’t call me Frank.”
Hayley looked back at him. “Why not? Isn’t that your name?”
“Don’t try to pretend we’re friends. Call me Mr. Parker.”
Martin shut down the screen. I turned to MacKay.
“You said he was being cooperative. No trouble at all, you said.”
“He was,” said MacKay. “Right up to the point where they went in to talk to him. And even then he sounded like he was making sense.”
“Have Hayley and Doyle requested the necessary clearances?” I said.
“Of course,” said MacKay. “They’re still waiting for someone to make a decision.”
“Is that why you’re here, Ishmael?” asked Martin. “Do you have that level of clearance?”
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s classified.”
“What just happened there didn’t go the way Hayley and Doyle thought it would . . .” Penny said thoughtfully. “Could this be what Parker intended all along? Blow smoke in interrogators’ eyes to keep them away from him?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “I really don’t like how quickly that man was able to stop two trained interrogators in their tracks. Did you see how easily he took charge? Call me Mr. Parker . . . That man has been very well trained.”
I stood and thought for a moment, considering possibilities, while the others watched me. Finally, I turned to Martin.
“Ghosts,” I said. “You’re supposed to have evidence of hauntings. Show me what you’ve got.”
Martin nodded quickly and tapped away at his keyboard. “No one wanted to believe anything supernatural was going on at the Lodge until I showed them what my systems had picked up. How much do you want to see? I’ve got hours of recordings. Nothing conclusive, I’ll admit, but they are fascinating. With a heavy side order of downright disturbing.”
“Do you have evidence, or not?” I said.
“Well, yes and no. I’ve got evidence of something . . . As to what, you’ll have to decide for yourself.” Martin nodded to a particular screen. “OK, I’ve put together some edited highlights. Hang on to your undies, we are about to go full on spooky.”
The screen showed a long corridor with subdued lighting and two rows of closed doors facing each other. The time stamp in the bottom right hand corner said 23:45. MacKay leaned in close beside me.
“Upper floor of the Lodge. Living quarters for the support staff.”
“Hush!” said Martin. “Listen . . .”
My head came up as I heard, quite distinctly, the sound of human footsteps progressing slowly down the corridor, with no one visible on the screen to make them. There was nowhere for anyone to hide, no shadows or blind spots, but still the footsteps carried on. Growing steadily louder and heavier. Suddenly doors were flung open the whole length of the corridor, one after another, and people came stumbling out of their rooms in a variety of nightclothes. The sound of footsteps cut off the moment the first door opened. Men and women with confused expressions and serious bed hair looked up and down the corridor, shouting questions and accusations at each other. It was clear this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened. Some of the people looked angry, some looked frightened. All of them were taking it very seriously.
The scene changed. It was the same length of corridor, but now the time stamp said 3:17. Even though it was early in the morning, all of the lights were on. As if no one wanted them turned off. I studied the screen carefully. Nothing moved, and there were no footsteps. No sound at all. And then one of the closed doors suddenly swung open, all on its own. No one came out of the room. After a while, the door slowly shut itself again. Martin froze the image on the screen.
“No one saw that happen at the time,” he said proudly. “I only came across it by accident, when I was checking some old recordings for technical quality. It made me wonder what else there might be, so I went looking. And I found this. Watch, and wonder. This is a bit special.”
Same corridor, time stamp 7:12. The electric lights had been replaced by daylight. Again, nothing happened for a while and then a dark human shadow appeared on one wall. It lurched slowly down the corridor, without anyone present to cast it. I leaned forward, intrigued. There was something wrong about the shape of the shadow, and the way it moved. And then it just disappeared. Martin punched the air, froze the screen, and spun round in his squeaky chair to grin triumphantly at us.
“Isn’t that absolutely amazing?”
“Doesn’t it scare you?” said Penny.
“Oh sure,” said Martin. “If I’d been there when it happened, I’d still be running. But that is just so cool. I could make a fortune out of material like this! If I wasn’t bound by the Official Secrets Act, of course. I mean, I am definitely not thinking of trying to sell it. I’m very scared of what the Organization would do to me if I tried.”
“I’m watching you, Mr. Martin,” MacKay said darkly.
Penny looked at me. “That was pretty creepy.”
I thought about it.
“And there’s lots more,” Martin said happily. “All kinds of sights and sounds. Add to that the way people have been feeling just recently . . .” He shot a glance at MacKay. “People will talk to me when they wouldn’t talk to you. Because I can’t have them fired. All the staff have been talking about how some parts of the Lodge have started getting on their nerves. They’ve all been experiencing bad dreams, bad feelings . . . Sensing things, even when they can’t see or hear anything. Cold spots. Feelings of not being alone. Things glimpsed out of the corner of the eye that are never there when you look at them directly. A sense of being followed . . . The staff were going out of their minds. When the order came through for them to vacate, you never saw people pack so quickly. Hell, I’ll be amazed if any of them come back.”
“Doctor Hayley put it all down to cabin fever,” I said.
Martin snorted dismissively. “One, she hasn’t been here long. And two, that woman has the sensitivity of a brick. You saw the way that shadow moved! Did that look like cabin fever to you?”
“Could your recordings have been tampered with?” I said.
“I’ve checked everything,” Martin said firmly. “No one could gain access to my systems without me knowing. All the data you’ve seen is completely accurate and entirely uncorrupted. You can check for yourself if you want, but I’m telling you . . . You won’t find anything.”
“What else have you got?” I said.
“You mean, that wasn’t enough?” Martin looked taken aback. “Well . . . OK, there is this.”
The screen before us showed a series of different locations inside the Lodge, at different times of day. In each case, the lights were flickering. Sometimes they turned themselves on and off. When people were in the rooms while it was happening, they looked very upset. Not just scared. Terrorized.
“That should not be possible,” said MacKay. “All the electric lighting in the Lodge is controlled by the security systems. Completely independent from all outside interference, for security reasons.”
“Could it be interruptions in the power supply?” I said.
“The Lodge has its own generator,” said MacKay. “Any interruption or breakdown would set off all kinds of alarms.”
“Right,” said Martin. “And there’s been nothing. I’ve run scans on all my systems, and they’re all perfectly clean. You can check for yourselves.”
“Have you seen anything strange or supernatural yourself?” said Penny. “I mean, in person?”
“No . . .” Martin sounded a bit wistful. “Not personally . . . But then I’m in here most of the time.”
“I’m still not convinced,” I said.
“No more am I,” said MacKay. “But in my army days I did see my share of . . . unusual things. And I assume you have seen your share too, Mr. Jones. So why not spooks and spirits?”
I didn’t have an answer.
MacKay offered to spell Martin for a few hours so he could take a nap, but Martin didn’t want to know. He said he wouldn’t feel safe away from the screens. And, his look implied, neither should we. We went back into the entrance hall, and he immediately closed the door behind us. I looked around sharply as I heard footsteps approaching the front door from outside. Then the door was flung open, and Baxter and Redd came bustling in. They were laughing and joking together, but their easy manner disappeared the moment they saw us. Redd closed the door carefully, while Baxter nodded to MacKay, ostentatiously ignoring Penny and me.
“The grounds are empty, the perimeter is secure. Nothing moving. All quiet.”
MacKay nodded to me. “The surveillance systems should be enough to detect anyone, but there is never any match for human senses and experience.”
“Have either of you seen any ghosts?” Penny said brightly. “Inside the Lodge, or out in the grounds?”
“No,” said Redd. “And neither has anyone else. It’s all in their minds.”
“We were out there looking for real threats,” said Baxter. “No one’s supposed to know Parker is here, but that won’t last.”
“Word always gets out,” said Redd.
“By then the interrogation should be over,” MacKay said firmly. “And our guest’s identity confirmed, one way or the other. Then he will be on his way somewhere else, and no longer our problem. We only have to keep him safe and secure for a few days.”
“If you aren’t expecting enemy interest just yet,” I said, “who did you think might be out there?”
“Ghost hunters,” said MacKay, his mouth turning down. “They will keep filing questions about supernatural events at the Lodge under the Freedom of Information Act, and demanding access to the house to run their own investigations. Then they get terribly upset when they’re turned down. Sometimes they try to sneak in with their own cameras and equipment to see just what it is we’re hiding from them. Of course, they never get past the security measures.”
“Are you talking about the land mines?” said Penny. “Or the gasses?”
“Neither, miss. That would attract attention. We just throw a good scare into them and they run like rabbits.”
“What do you do?” said Penny. “Dress up in sheets and rattle some chains?”
MacKay smiled, briefly. “I think that would only encourage them, miss.”
“So we’re secure,” I said. “Good to know.”
“Why are you so interested in ghosts?” said Redd.
“We’ve just been looking at Martin’s evidence of hauntings inside the Lodge,” said Penny.
Baxter made a disgusted sound. “Oh come on . . .”
“You’re not a believer?” I said.
“I haven’t seen anything in all the time I’ve been here,” Baxter said flatly. “It’s just nerves. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I’d know.”
“Mr. Baxter is a very suspicious man,” MacKay said solemnly.
“You don’t believe in ghosts?” said Penny.
“Of course not!” said Baxter.
“When we shoot people, they stay dead,” said Redd. “That’s sort of the point.”
“Is that all you’ve been doing while we were out working?” said Baxter. “Sitting around watching television?”
“Just trying to get a handle on the situation,” I said.
Baxter moved forward so he could glare right into my face. I let him.
“We don’t need you,” said Baxter. His voice and his face were deliberately unpleasant. “You’re just getting in the way. Why don’t you go home and leave the real work to people who know what they’re doing? Go back to wherever useless long streaks of piss like you belong.”
“Oh dear,” said Penny. “Ishmael, please don’t break him! We’re guests here, and they might make us pay for breakages.”
“Break me?” said Baxter. “Him?”
He stabbed a finger at me. I grabbed the finger and bent it back, using physical distress as well as leverage to force Baxter down on one knee. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out at the pain and tried to break free. But he couldn’t. Redd started forward, but MacKay stopped him with a look. I smiled down at Baxter.
“I am here because the Organization wants me here,” I said calmly. “To challenge me is to challenge them. Do we understand each other?”
“Let me go!” said Baxter. His face was white with pain and wet with sweat. “You bastard! I’ll . . .”
I bent the finger back some more, just short of the breaking point.
“Yes! Yes, I understand!”
I let go of him and stepped away. Baxter snatched back his injured hand and cradled it against his chest, breathing hard. He glared up at me, and then surged to his feet. Redd was quickly there to take him by the arm and guide him away, murmuring soothing words. I watched them go. As they disappeared into the lounge, it was Redd who shot me one last look. He was the one who I thought would bear watching, the one who could be really dangerous.
Penny gave me a hard look. “Was that really necessary?”
“Yes,” I said. “You just can’t talk to some people.”
“I am afraid you have made an enemy there, Mr. Jones,” said MacKay.
“We were never going to be friends,” I said. “But who knows, maybe I’ll pull a thorn out of his paw later on.”
“I will speak with Mr. Baxter and Mr. Redd,” said MacKay. “I will not have dissension in the ranks inside the Lodge.”
“Why was he so angry?” said Penny. “Because he thinks Ishmael is usurping his place?”
“No, miss,” said MacKay. “Because he does believe in ghosts and has seen and heard things, and he doesn’t want to admit it.”
“What about Redd?” said Penny. “Does he believe?”
“A very hard man to read is our Mr. Redd,” said MacKay. “He holds his thoughts close to his chest, along with his emotions. Now, the two of you must be tired after your long day’s travelling. Perhaps you would like to take a rest in your room before dinner? Which will be in about an hour. Nothing special, since we are having to look after ourselves. But I can open a can and operate a microwave with the best of them.”
I looked at Penny and she nodded, so I allowed MacKay to lead us up the stairs at the back of the hall. I don’t get tired, mostly, but Penny does.
Our room was on the upper floor, the same long corridor we’d seen on Martin’s screen. The place where strange things happened. MacKay led the way, carrying Penny’s suitcase as though it was full of nothing heavier than feathers. Penny looked around interestedly and I did too, but couldn’t see or hear anything out of place. The lights were steady, and so were the shadows. The doors remained firmly shut. Everything was as it should be. I definitely didn’t feel any uncanny atmosphere.
“Most of the rooms are locked up,” said MacKay. “Until the staff return. A guest room has been prepared for you.”
“Just the one?” said Penny, mischievously.
MacKay stopped and looked back at us. “That is what I was told. If one room is not acceptable . . .”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Just thought I should say something,” said Penny. “I don’t like to be taken for granted.”
“No one would dare,” I assured her.
MacKay took us to a room at the far end of the corridor, and opened the door and ushered us in. He dropped Penny’s suitcase on the floor with a loud thud and gestured vaguely around the room as if introducing it to us.
“I will bang the gong in the hall when it’s time for dinner.”
“Will Mr. Parker be joining us?” said Penny.
“Only in spirit, miss.”
He inclined his head and left, closing the door firmly behind him. I dropped my backpack on the floor and wandered round the room checking it out, while Penny muscled her suitcase up and on to the bed. The room seemed comfortable enough, if essentially characterless. Just a neat impersonal setting, for people who wouldn’t be there long. The adjoining bathroom was so small there was barely room to swing a toilet duck. Penny unpacked her suitcase, happily spreading its contents across the bed and around the room.
“Spotted anything out of the ordinary?” she asked, without looking up from what she was doing.
“Not so far.”
“Any surveillance cameras?”
“Of course,” I said. I pointed out the obvious one over the door, and the better-hidden one over the bed.
Penny pulled a face. “OK, that’s kind of creepy. I thought there’d be a way for us to turn them off. Since we’re guests here, not prisoners.”
“There is,” I said. I opened my backpack, took out a pair of thick socks, and draped one carefully over each camera. “See?”
Penny looked at each sock in turn and frowned dubiously. “Will they be enough?”
“They’re heavy socks,” I said.
Penny peered into my backpack. “You really did bring just a change of clothes. Tell me you brought some extra underwear, as well as socks.”
“Of course,” I said. “But they don’t block off surveillance so well.”
“You found those cameras pretty quickly,” said Penny.
“I have a lot of experience when it comes to finding hidden things. Particularly things other people don’t want me to find. I could rip the cameras out, but they’d just install new ones the moment we leave the room.” I sat down beside her on the bed and leaned in close so I could murmur in her ear. “There are bound to be hidden microphones, as well. So be careful what you say out loud.”
Penny grinned. “You know I can get just a bit noisy, under the right circumstances . . .”
“Exhibitionist!” I said.
We kept our heads close together and our voices low.
“So,” said Penny. “What do you make of the others?”
“Hayley and Doyle are clearly more than just work colleagues,” I said. “And very keen to make a name for themselves. I have a feeling their ambitions may be more important to them than getting the truth out of Parker.”
“Well spotted,” said Penny. “Did you also happen to notice that Baxter and Redd are an item?”
I looked at her. “Really?”
“Yes, really. The way they looked at each other, the way they acted with each other. It was obvious.”
I shrugged. “I was more concerned with whether or not they were going to beat the crap out of me.”
“Mr. MacKay seemed nice enough. When he wasn’t threatening to murder Frank Parker.”
“You mean polite. There’s a difference. Still, a good man to have in charge. Especially if there’s a crisis. I’m not so sure about Philip Martin.”
“Seemed like a typical techie geek to me.”
“One who believes in ghosts?”
“And tries to get recordings of them . . .”
Then we broke off, our heads snapping round, as outside in the corridor the sound of slow, steady footsteps grew louder and louder. Heading towards us. We were both up and off the bed in a moment, standing together facing the door.
“Could that be MacKay?” Penny said tentatively. “Coming back to tell us something?”
“Doesn’t sound like MacKay,” I said.
The footsteps were louder and heavier than any human being should be capable of making. Unless he was eight-foot tall and carrying an anvil in each hand. There was something oddly deliberate and measured about the sounds. As if whoever was making them wanted to be heard. They came closer and closer. I looked at Penny, but she seemed more intrigued than scared. I moved over to the door as quietly as I could and took hold of the handle. I waited till the footsteps were right outside our room, then jerked the door open and charged out into the corridor. Penny was right behind me.
The corridor was completely empty, and silent. I looked from one end to the other, but there was no sign that anyone had ever been there. I felt the hackles stir on the back of my neck, like a cold caress.
“Could he have slipped into one of the other rooms?” said Penny.
“All the other doors are locked, remember?” I tilted my head back and sniffed the air. “No human scents . . .”
“You’re weird, sometimes,” said Penny. “So, what do you think that was?”
“Obviously we’re meant to think it was a ghost,” I said. “Even if it is a bit early in the evening.”
“Is it?” said Penny. “Remember that shadow on the wall in broad daylight?”
“My first reaction,” I said, “is that someone is messing with us. Trying to keep our minds off Parker.”
Penny shrugged. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now. There’s nothing we can do, so let’s have a nice lie-down before dinner.”
“And get some rest?”
“Not necessarily . . .”