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David Ambrose: Superstition

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David Ambrose Superstition

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As she spoke, Murray seated himself on the throne and Ellie produced a black silk scarf which she made a big show of tying securely over his eyes.

“If you want to make contact with anybody on the other side, all you have to do is raise your hand and one of our two volunteers-that's Merle and Minnie, there they are, on either side of you, giving you a little wave-will bring you a microphone. Now the microphone is only so the rest of us can hear you. If you don't want to speak your question out loud, the spirits will understand. They'll know what's in your heart, and they will respond through the medium, through Murray here. All you have to do if Merle or Minnie points you out is direct your thoughts to the spirit world, and your loved ones will respond through the medium. Alternatively, if you prefer, you can hand over some personal object, a watch or a key ring or a piece of jewelry or whatever, either your own or belonging to a loved one who's passed on. The vibrations will pass through the medium to the spirit world, and to whoever it is that you wish to make contact with.”

Finally satisfying herself that the blindfold was secure, Ellie stepped back a few paces.

“Now I'm going to leave you, but before I do I'm going to ask you all to remain very quiet for a short time while the medium enters the spirit world. After that you'll hear an announcement asking those of you with a question to raise your hands. Now very quiet, please, ladies and gentlemen…very, very quiet…”

The lights dimmed as Ellie slipped into the wings and Murray assumed the pre-trance position-head down, chest heaving with slow, deep breaths. Gradually a white spotlight opened up on him from directly overhead, glowing like a ray of heavenly light. After about a minute Murray slowly raised his head as though listening to something above and slightly to one side. Then he nodded as though in acknowledgment of some unseen presence.

Mark's voice came softly once again from the speakers over the expectant, waiting heads. “Ladies and gentlemen, the medium is ready. Please hold up your hands to indicate you have a question.”

From her vantage point at the computer, Ellie watched as Merle appeared uncertain which of the sea of waving hands to give the microphone to first. In an acting job of the first magnitude, she seemed to make a random choice-but it was no mistake when she handed the mike, as instructed earlier by Ellie, to a plump woman in her sixties whose husband had recently died, leaving her a high, seven-figure fortune in securities and gilt-edged stock…

Very smooth, thought Joanna, admiring the performance despite her contempt for it. Murray had answered several unspoken as well as, spoken questions, each time drawing murmurs of amazement from his audience. Now he was giving a demonstration of psychometry, turning over in his stubby fingers a brooch that a woman near the front had sent up. He mentioned names and places, cleverly playing out and embellishing the information that Ellie was whispering in his ear. It was impressive, but only if you didn't know how it was done. And Joanna knew.

Nobody showing up cold at the gate of Camp Starburst would ever be admitted then and there-not even if they waved a wad of hard cash under Ellie's acquisitive nose. If the wad was big enough they might be given tea in the Rays’ private quarters, and maybe even taken on a limited tour of the compound. In the course of all this they would invariably say enough about themselves to give the Rays a starting point. From then on it was routine.

The first step was to check them out on the psychic network that extended across the country and beyond. There was a surprisingly large army of believers who went from seer to medium to mystic, one after the other, often traveling long distances for a consultation. Had anyone told them that the information they were being fed about themselves had been faxed or e-mailed from the last hustler who had duped them, they wouldn't have believed it. Because they wouldn't want to. They preferred to hang on to the myths of spiritism.

If the network didn't come up with the goods, Ellie simply called up a detective agency to which she paid a regular retainer and had them dig up what they could. One thing was certain: by the time Ellie or Murray or any of their colleagues sat down for a seance with a sucker, everything that was about to happen had been planned and rehearsed to the last detail. There were no surprises in the spirit world.

But there was going to be a big one very soon. Joanna slipped a hand discreetly beneath the dark wig she was wearing and pressed the earpiece more firmly into place. The receiver in her purse was picking up every word that Ellie fed to Murray, and a recorder was getting it all on tape. Some of it was pretty juicy stuff; Ellie didn't bother to disguise her contempt for the suckers out there who bought what she and Murray were selling.

It was going to make good reading.

Ellie squinted through the glass to identify the woman near the back who had just handed something to Merle. It was that young woman, Rachel Clark, who was staying in Clouds Wing for the weekend. Ellie brought her file up on the computer screen. There wasn't much-just the fact that she had consulted seven mediums in the last few months, all in and around Philadelphia where she lived. She had wanted the same thing from all of them: to get in touch with her father, whom she had nursed through a long illness until his death the previous year. There was obviously some unresolved stuff there, though what it was remained vague.

“Dirty old sod probably been schtupping her since she was ten,” she muttered into the mike. “It's that girl with the dark hair that you noticed the other day-good tits under that baggy cardigan. Trust you to notice! Mother died when she was fifteen, never been married, engaged once, name of Johnny-nothing known about what happened to him. The old man manufactured kitchen equipment-sounds like there was money in it from the schools she went to.”

Ellie read off the remaining details as she peered through the glass to see what Rachel Clark had given to Merle. Murray was answering the previous question as Merle mounted the steps at the side of the stage. Careful timing meant that she had to pause long enough right next to Ellie's little window to offer a clear view of what she held, along with subtle finger signals to denote gold or gold plate, real jewelry or fake-anything that might usefully be passed on to the blindfolded Murray.

“Man's gold watch, father's I guess,” Ellie was saying as Murray wound up his previous reading, simultaneously taking in Ellie's information over the sound of his own voice. “The old man's name was James Anthony Clark. Mother was Susan Anne with an ‘e,’ nee Ziegler. The kid's half-Jewish, that's a nine on the fucked-up meter for starters…”

Joanna had to fight to hide the grin of glee that wanted to spread across her face. They'd bought into every last detail of the phony identity and background she'd set up on those boring trips to Philadelphia these past few months. The proof was coming out of Murray's mouth as he regurgitated every empty lie she'd set to trap them.

And it was all on tape!

At just twenty years of age, Jeremy Holland was a general grunt around Camp Starburst. He got the job because his mother was a cousin of one of the resident mediums at the camp, and Jeremy was learning the trade himself. Today, however, he was manning the switchboard, and a situation had arisen that he was unsure how to handle. Ellie looked up with an air of surprise as he approached apologetically.

“I've got the police on the phone,” he said.

Ellie's heart skipped a beat. She knew that some of what they did was marginally illegal, but took comfort in the thought that it would be almost certainly unprovable in court. But any contact with the law made her uncomfortable.

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