Simon Green - Ghost of a Chance

“What have you done to yourself?” Natasha said sickly. “You’re not human any more!”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to judge,” said JC.

Natasha and Erik were made to sit with their backs to the wall, hands clasped together on top of their heads. Neither of them gave any trouble. Between Happy’s telepathy and JC’s eyes, they felt seriously outgunned. They both looked dazed, and a little disturbed, at how easily they’d been taken down. Natasha wouldn’t so much as look in JC’s direction even after he put his sunglasses back on. He stood over the Project agents, frowning thoughtfully. Happy and Melody stood on either side of him, doing their best to look dangerous. Melody was the most successful at that because she still held her machine-pistol at the ready.

“Talk to me,” JC said coldly. “No use playing dumb. I know who you are; I’ve read your files at the Institute. Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman, field agents for the Crowley Project. So what are you doing here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” said Erik, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Happy,” said JC, “see what you can dig out of them. No need to be gentle about it.”

“Way ahead of you,” said Happy. “I can’t see much; the Project’s installed really good shields. Still, this pair isn’t exactly A team material; they operate on our level, more or less.” He smiled nastily at Natasha. “Don’t think you can keep me out forever, though. I already know things about you. You’re a soul eater, you nasty little cow. And your fat friend tortures animals. For fun.”

“For science!” said Erik. But he still wouldn’t look up.

“What are you doing down here?” said JC. “What’s your mission? Talk to me; or I’ll take my shades off again.”

“This is all the Project’s fault, isn’t it?” snapped Happy. “One of your Workings gone wrong! Your higher-ups let something nasty into our world, and you were sent down here to clean up the mess and wipe off the fingerprints.”

“No!” said Natasha. She looked up at Happy, avoiding JC. “We’re not here for the haunting; we’re here for you. Vivienne MacAbre put a death mark on all three of you for being too good at your job. We don’t like competition. Your deaths were supposed to send a message to the Institute. No-one told us what was really going on down here, or we wouldn’t have come. We’re no more fit to deal with a mess of this magnitude than you are.”

“If you didn’t know what was going on down here,” Happy said craftily, “then you can’t be sure the Project isn’t behind it, can you? Hah! Got you there!”

“If the Project is in any way involved, it would have been decided at a much higher level than we have access to,” Erik said tiredly. “All field agents are mushrooms, you know that, kept in the dark and fed shit on a regular basis. How do you know this isn’t the result of some major cock-up by your higher-ups?”

“Because we don’t do things like that,” said Melody.

“Yeah, right,” said Erik.

Happy looked at JC. “Sounds like they were dropped in the deep end, unarmed and unprepared, just like us. If you believe them, which I prefer not to, on general principles.” He glared at Natasha. “And don’t you think I’ve forgotten what you did to me, bitch. What you made me do. I can still taste blood in my mouth and feel loose teeth with my tongue. I should smack you a good one right in the mouth, so you can see what it feels like. Except that I’m a better man than that. I am. I really am. Oh the hell I am . . .”

He punched her in the mouth. Her head swung round under the impact. Happy stood over her, breathing hard. And then Natasha turned her face back and sneered at him.

“Is that it? You punch like a junkie.”

Happy went to hit her again. JC grabbed his arm, stopping him. Happy glared at JC, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

“Why not, JC? Give me one good reason.”

“Because we’re supposed to be better than that.”

Happy pulled his arm free. JC didn’t try to hold on to him. Happy sniffed. “You might be, JC. I’m still working on it.”

“You don’t know what they did to him, JC,” said Melody. “What they did to us when you weren’t there to protect us. That little toad used a taser on me. Over and over again. And laughed while he did it.” Melody’s machine-pistol moved closer to Erik’s head, as though pulling Melody’s hand behind it. “You have no idea how much it hurt, JC. My gut muscles still ache. You don’t know how helpless and violated he made me feel while he hurt me. Do we really need both of them alive, JC?”

“Yes,” he said. “If you feel the need to do something, you can search them both for weapons. Feel free to be exceedingly thorough.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Melody.

She stuck the barrel of her pistol under Natasha’s chin and made her stand up. Then she made Natasha turn around and lean forward against the wall, with all her weight on her hands. Melody searched Natasha from head to toe, with a carefully impersonal roughness. She found a whole bunch of hidden pockets and concealed pouches, and soon a small pile of assorted weapons and devices had formed at Natasha’s feet. Melody checked her over twice, to be sure, then stood back and allowed Natasha to turn around. The Project agent looked at the pile on the ground and smiled disarmingly.

“A girl should always be prepared.”

“Shut up,” said Melody.

She was even more thorough, and rougher, with Erik. His pile of weapons and assorted weird shit turned out to be even bigger than Natasha’s. Including several guns, three knives, a full surgeon’s kit, a whole bunch of arcane items that Melody was careful to handle only with her fingertips and at arm’s length, and an Aboriginal pointing bone.

“Oh goody,” said Happy. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“Hands off, man,” JC said sternly. “You know very well you’re not allowed killing tools.” He nodded to Melody, and she tucked the bone away in one of her inside pockets. She then searched Erik again, and when she finally gave up and stood back, he turned around and smiled at her.

“Thank you. A little rougher next time, perhaps. Still, was it good for you, too?”

Melody kneed him briskly in the groin and walked away. Erik bent painfully forward.

“I do wish people would stop doing that.”

“You’re weird,” said Happy. “And I know weird.” He looked at the pack on Erik’s back. “Melody . . .”

“He can keep his cat computer,” said Melody. “I don’t want anything to do with the nasty thing.”

“Maybe you should take a few pills, Happy,” Natasha said sweetly. “Oh yes, we know all about your little adventures in chemistry. You should really be working for us. We don’t have to hide our vices, at the Crowley Project; we glory in them. They make us stronger.” And then she looked at JC, and Kim. “Although there are limits. What is that doing here, JC?”

“She’s with me,” said JC.

“With you?” Natasha looked like she wanted to spit. “And you have the brass balls to look down on us? Such relationships have always been strictly forbidden! You know that! The living and the dead cannot join together! It’s . . . unnatural!”

“So it’s all right to eat ghosts,” said JC. “But not love them?”

“Yes! Exactly!” said Natasha. “Pervert!”

“Ectophile!” said Erik. “I may puke.”

“That’s enough,” said JC, and immediately Natasha and Erik looked away, unable to meet his gaze, even muffled behind sunglasses.

And then everyone on the platform looked round sharply, as the sound of something large and heavy approaching blasted out of the far tunnel-mouth. The deafening roar drew steadily nearer, building and building until the platform itself began to shake and tremble beneath their feet.