Chapter 3

San Francisco

 

 

          With everyone away on their flights to wherever and the paperwork done to take collection of the crate from Japan, Nick went with Pete Miller and Frank Malone to make an inspection of the charter jet.

          “He a forensic specialist?” Frank inquired softly.

          “He’s some kinda specialist,” Pete replied.  “He’s good people, Frank.  You can trust him.”

          Nick climbed on board the jet and took a cursory glance at the interior.  It wasn’t fitted out for passengers.  This was express freight only.  Where seats should’ve been, there were steel poles and cargo nets strung between them, with a narrow aisle left which led to the flight deck.

          “You know which of these compartments held the crate?” he asked.

          Frank nodded.  “It was that one.  Middle, front section, starboard side.  It was secured with straps.”

          “Was there anything else on the manifest?” Nick queried, glancing at him.

          “A few things, yeah.”

          “Can I see it?” Nick asked.

          “What are you thinking?” Pete frowned.

          Nick gestured with his head for Pete to come closer.  “One thing I have learned, doing what I do, is that, half the time, there’s a perfectly normal explanation.  I’m thinking, maybe, biohazard.”

          “I’ve seen the manifest,” Pete replied.  “Nothing toxic on board.”

          “Would it be declared ..?” Nick pointed out.  “They have terrorists in Japan, Pete.  Remember that nerve gas attack on the Tokyo underground?”

          Pete nodded slowly.  “I’ll go over it again.  An’ you check that crate before you open it.”

          “That’s another thing I’ve learned doing this job.  Never take chances.”  He turned toward the flight deck.  “Okay, let me take a look at our dead guys.”

          Pete tagged along.  “If it is biohazard .. shouldn’t we be in those environmental suits?”

          “It’s probably dissipated by now.  If they’ve been dead at least six hours … ”  Nick shook his head.  “Biohazard is the logical cause of death but it’d be a damn strange bug to kill someone an’ let ’em go on working.”

          There was no door separating the flight deck from the main fuselage, only a curtain.

          “Another reason could be someone stowed away,” he remarked and pulled the curtain aside.  “Or maybe not.”

          Whatever had killed the two men, they had died in agony.  Their faces were twisted masks, their hands claws on the controls.  Even their bodies were contorted.  A biohazard could have done it but there would have been other signs – congealed blood at the mouth, nose, maybe the ears and eyes.  These men were, on the surface, unharmed.  Their clothes weren’t torn or even rumpled.  One moment, they’d been flying the plane, the next .. they were dead.  A lot of pain but nothing had outwardly attacked them.

          “You called in the coroner yet?” Nick asked.  “Only I have a contact there – Frances.  I’ve worked with her before.  Mention my name an’ she’ll know I’m in the loop.”

          Pete nodded.  “Okay.  You think your sword somehow did this?”

          “I can’t answer that, not yet.  But I do have to check it thoroughly so I’ll keep you posted if I find anything.”  Nick took one last look at the bodies.  “Can you let us have some photographs?  I got the sword to work on but Derek’s free.  He’d be glad to help you out from this end.  With luck, we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.”

          Pete nodded again.  “Call him.”

 

*****

 

          Derek was reading the newspaper when the phone rang.  He regarded it with narrowed eyes.  Yesterday, it hadn’t seem to stop ringing.  Today was starting the same.

          “Derek Rayne – ”

          “Derek, it’s Nick.”

          He sat up slightly.  “Yes, Nick.  Problem?”

          “I’m not sure.  Can you get to the airport?  There’s something weird going on an’ Pete Miller’s asked for your help.”

          “I’d be delighted to assist.  I’m on my way now.”

          “I’ll wait for you.”

          Derek paused only to tell Andrew he should delay lunch for an hour until one thirty and then he left.  It was a minimum two hour ride to the airport south of San Francisco, longer if there was bad traffic, so Derek took the helicopter.  Like Nick, he was a qualified pilot but he left the main flying to the younger man.  Nick enjoyed it.  Derek saw it only as a means of getting from A to B with the minimum amount of fuss.  Consequently, thirty five minutes after Nick’s call, Derek was walking across the tarmac toward the charter jet.

          Pete Miller was standing beside the steps, his shoulders hunched against a cool breeze blowing off the Bay.

          “Morning,” he greeted as Derek came to a halt.  “I’ll keep it short.  Two bodies.  Dead at least six hours but that’s a personal estimate so it could be wrong.  No one else on board.  Possibility of a biohazard but we’re checking that out an’ Nick has a heads up on that crate.  Yet, despite being dead, these guys still landed the plane, obeyed every instruction from the air traffic controllers, talked, and taxied it to a stop.”

          “I can see why you’ve asked for assistance,” Derek commented dryly.

          “Uh huh.  I have this sneaky suspicion that your sword is somehow responsible.  An’ how I’m ever gonna write that in my report, I don't know.  Go take a look.  Maybe you can give me some alternatives.”

          “Where’s Nick?” Derek asked.

          Pete jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  “Still in there with the stiffs.”

          Derek climbed the steps and ducked thru the doorway.  As Nick had done, he took a cursory glance around then went to the flight deck.

          “You got here fast,” Nick remarked.  “You fly?”

          “Curiosity got the better of me.  It’s a cross I have to bear.”  Nick moved out of the way so Derek could examine the bodies.  “Is there a chance that Pete has the time of death wrong?”

          “Sure.  There is no way to accurately determine time of death.  Every body has an individual timetable.  Rigor sets in so many hours after death has occurred but it’s different each time.  Unless there’s a witness, it’s guesswork.  Averages.”

          Derek frowned as he bent toward the pilot.  “And they actually talked to the controllers?”

          “So Pete says.  I’d like to hear what’s on the cockpit voice recorder.”

          “You have a task to do.  But, if it is the sword, we’ll be working on the same case.  I’ll see what I can acquire for you.”

          “Thanks, boss,” Nick grinned.  “I’d better make a move.  Frances is on her way.”

          Derek nodded.  “Be careful.  If it is a biohazard, I don’t want to risk it getting loose in the house.”

          “Check.  Although, by the time I’ve cleared Customs an’ driven back, you’ll already be there.”

          “I'll make a start on researching other fabled, mythical weapons, ones which can .. do this to a man yet allow him to continue imitating life.”

          Nick nodded.  “It’s a beginning.  Catch you later.”

          Derek was left alone on the jet.  The silence was eerie and Derek had to shake himself to get rid of the sensation that he was being watched.  He focused on why he was here.  The skin on the men’s faces was taut, stretched, as if they were becoming mummified.  He examined the visible, exposed skin for puncture marks and found none.  It was a mystery.

          Ten minutes later, Frances arrived and Derek made room for her.

          “Oh my … ” she breathed.  She stared for a moment then glanced round.  “You want to be present at the autopsy?”

          “I think I would, yes.”

          “Call by around six this evening.  My advice is to eat later .. if you still feel like it.”

          Derek smiled.  “I have a strong stomach.  I developed it thru need.”

 

*****

 

          It seemed very strange to be sitting at a workstation doing routine investigations.  The years dropped away and Derek could almost hear his Precept’s voice telling him to be thorough, to not miss anything.  One small fact easily overlooked as not being worthy could be the decisive one.  The one to turn everything around.  The one which meant the difference between life and death.

          His first task was to set the search going.  His second was to contact the Tokyo house for details on where the sword was found and in what circumstances.  While the computer searched for references to old Japanese swords reputedly strengthened with incantations and, possibly, curses, he called the Precept at the Tokyo house.

          “Konnichi wa, Igurashi-san,” he began.

          “And good day to you, Derek,” Tetsuo Igurashi replied. “Has the artifact arrived safely?”

          “It has arrived, yes.  Nick is on his way back from the airport with it, as we speak.  There was, however, an incident on the jet.  I have to ask you, Tetsuo, where did you find the sword and did anything unusual happen when you found it?”

          There was a very slight pause.  If Derek hadn’t been expecting it and listening for it, he would have dismissed it as purely natural thought.

          “Can I ask you in turn what the incident was?” Tetsuo said.

          Derek smiled.  “I asked first.”

          The remark was met with studied, inscrutable Oriental silence.

          “Japan is a country with a very long history,” Derek went on, his voice mild.  “That history, until fairly recently, was dominated by people armed with swords.  Therefore, finding an ancient weapon would not be unusual in your land.  Something must have triggered the idea that it was a sword of myth and legend.”

          “Yes,” Tetsuo eventually answered.  “We found it deep in a grotto at Ise.  Until last year, that part of the cave network where the blade was located had been inaccessible but a quake opened up a narrow passage.  There was once a shrine at Ise to Amaterasu.  When we brought the blade out .. there were miracles, Derek.  The lame who touched the sword could walk again.  The blind could see.  Incurable diseases were cured.  Naturally, we were startled, surprised, a little suspicious.  We believed the blade was important – why had it been hidden in the grotto? – but the miracles made us wonder if we hadn’t stumbled across something even more profound.  In truth, we could have done the examination and analysis here but we are too close to it to be completely impartial.”

          “Hmm.  Interesting.”

          Tetsuo waited patiently.

          “The flight crew of the charter jet were dead when the plane landed,” Derek informed him.  “They had been dead for quite some time.”

          “A stowaway on board?  A thief .. after my sword?”

          “It’s a possibility, I suppose,” Derek conceded.  “However, if there is a thief and this stowaway killed the crew .. he or she did it without touching them.  I saw them, Tetsuo.  They looked like they died of fright and in great pain.”

          “What does Nick think?” Tetsuo inquired.

          “His first idea was a biohazard on the aircraft.  Something like that could have been planted on board and timed to detonate hours later.  He also considered the idea of a stowaway.”

          “But you don’t agree with either of those ideas.”

          “I’m not sure yet what to believe,” Derek admitted.  “I’m going to observe the autopsy on the two men later today.  What intrigues me is the alleged fact that, even though the men were dead, they continued to fly the plane, obey every instruction, talk to the controllers, land safely and taxi to the holding area.”

          “The thief could have done that,” Tetsuo pointed out.

          “True, but the crew’s hands were claws on the controls.  They couldn’t have been moved for someone else to sit there.  Plus, no one got off the aircraft once it was on the ground, and the sword was not stolen.”

          “This is incredible … ”

          “And, therefore, it is a matter for the Legacy,” Derek concluded.  “I’ll keep you advised of our progress, or lack of it.”

          “Thank you, Derek.  I appreciate that.  Sayonara.”

          “Goodbye, Igurashi-san.”

          Derek hung up.  Well .. that had been informative.  A sword which killed and cured.  A sword both blessed and cursed.  Frowning, he returned to the control room.

          Twenty minutes later, Nick came in, bearing the long wooden crate in both arms. 

          “Find anything?” he asked.  It was his way of saying ‘hi there, I’m back.’

          “There are many legends of cursed blades in Japan, a country well noted, of course, for its abundance of swords,” Derek replied.  “There is only one problem.  Unless the blade is marked, it will be impossible to determine if it is mentioned in any particular legend.  The hilt is not a reliable guide as they can be replaced.”

          Derek followed him as Nick went to the side area and put the crate on a table.  “There is one other thing I’ve learned.  The sword of Amaterasu, blade and hilt, is formed from one piece of metal.”

          “Should make it easy to identify,” Nick remarked.

          “Tetsuo told me that, when they brought it out, miracles occurred.  This weapon has the ability to cure disease and heal infirmity.”

          “Try telling that to the crew on the jet,” Nick responded.

          Derek frowned.  “I know you were not present when the aircraft was first opened but .. is it possible the cause of all this is nothing more than a stowaway?  Consider, somehow, and I don’t have the answer yet, the crew died.  It could have been a fast acting, fast dispersing toxic agent administered by a stowaway who took precautions against breathing or touching this substance.”

          Nick was nodding.

          “One of the bodies was then moved, before stiffening of the joints prevented it.  The stowaway continued to fly the plane and talk to air traffic control, brought it in to land and taxied it to the holding area.  Then, having secured the aircraft, he or she replaced the dead body at the controls and went back into hiding.  When the coast was clear, he or she slipped out and got away.”

          “Good theory,” Nick agreed.  “Works on a lotta levels.”

          “But you don’t agree with it.”

          “I’m not saying it’s wrong but .. what was the motive?  Someone wanting to get a new start in the US, why come outta hiding an’ kill the crew?  That only achieved attention.  If it was a thief, why didn’t they steal the sword?  I checked with the Customs guys, in case something else was stolen, by accident or on purpose, but everything on the manifest was unloaded.  So what was the motive?  Stowaways creep in, hide, hope to get to their destination undiscovered, then, if they do, they fade into the background.  The cops, forensics, airport security, not to mention us, have been swarming over that jet since the door was first opened.  It’s now under guard in a hangar.”

          “Could they have escaped before the door was apparently first opened?” Derek suggested.

          “Well, I guess that’s possible but it’s a pretty busy area.  There’s always people around.  Frank Malone told me he’d questioned the people who were there when the plane rolled up and stopped, an’ they said no one got out.”

          “Hmm.”  Derek regarded the crate.  “And that has not been tampered with?”

          “Not that I can see.  It’s a pretty much standard shipping crate.  It isn’t a sealed container.”

          “Then .. the chances are it is some kind of spectral entity.  It attached itself to the sword, emerged thru the gaps in the crate, killed the crew, flew the aircraft to San Francisco, then returned to the crate.”

          “Which means it’s now in the house,” Nick commented.

          “Unless my theory is wrong,” Derek agreed.

          “Think I’ll put this in a sealed container while things are running our way.”

          “Good idea,” Derek nodded soberly.

 

*****

 

          With the sword still inside the crate which was now inside a locked, vacuum sealed container and the whole thing locked in one of the labs, Nick and Derek drove back to the city morgue to observe the autopsy on the two flight crew.  Pete Miller arrived just as they were crossing the parking lot and he ran to catch up with them.  He nodded a greeting but his eyes looked tired and slightly bloodshot.

          “I realize it’s early days but .. any progress?” he inquired.

          “We’ve tossed around a few theories,” Nick replied.

          “Uh huh.  And ..?”

          Nick glanced at Derek who nodded.  “We think it could be a spectral entity.”

          “Oh.  Of course.  It couldn’t be something easily explained, something I can talk about at a dinner party or in mixed company.  No, it has to be something outta this world.  Guess I should be pleased in one way.  Spectral entities cannot be tracked down, arrested, charged, put on trial in a court of law, an’ then slammed in jail.  Not so much paperwork involved with spectral entities.  Makes my job a lot easier.”

          Derek frowned.

          “Look, I’m tired.  It’s been a long day,” Pete muttered.  “And, every time something like this happens, I never know what to write in my report that doesn’t make me sound like a raving lunatic.  I have two dead foreign nationals, Derek.  Okay, they died in international airspace somewhere over the middle of the Pacific ocean, but they were found in my patch an’ I have the case to solve.  Spectral entity, sure, it covers the bases an’ fits all the facts, an’ my lieutenant is gonna say I’m either crazy or I’m just not prepared to do my job an’ investigate this crime, that what I’m doing is, basically, passing the buck.”

          “We could be wrong,” Derek offered.  “Like you, we’re still gathering the facts.  That’s why, like you, we’re here at the morgue.”

          “Right.”  Pete shook his head.  “I’m sorry, guys.  I asked for your help cos I am way outta my league, an’ now I’m being pissy about what I’m getting.  For the record, I think you’re right.  I think it is that damned sword.”  He looked up.  “What’ve you done with it?”

          “It’s locked away in a specially sealed container,” Nick replied.  “If it is contaminated with some kind of biohazard, I haven’t shown any symptoms yet.  And, if it is a spectral entity and it’s attached to the sword, it can’t get out to hurt anyone else.”

          “Or help them,” Derek added.

          Pete’s eyebrows rose.  “That’s an interesting take on the situation.”

          “Not really, merely a statement of fact,” Derek replied.  “The sword, when it was recovered from a deep cavern hidden until last year when a quake opened up a passage, cured people of disease and infirmity.  I don’t suppose our associates in Tokyo exchanged it for another sword so we must assume it is the same one.  Therefore, the weapon is both blessed and cursed.”

          “By what?” Pete asked.  “A spectral entity which sits on the fence?”

          “It could take the form of a guardian spirit.  There are things in this world who can judge the motives deep in the heart and take action accordingly.”

          “So .. sick people deserve to be cured and .. flight crews deserve to be wiped out?” Pete queried.  “Excuse me but that’s just a little too picky for my tastes.”

          Derek shrugged.  “If you look at it rigidly, yes, it’s a little extreme.  But consider – the flight crew was removing it from its native land.  Maybe that was cause enough for the guardian to become defensive, and, as Nick will tell you, a good defense is a strong offense.”

          “Pete .. the voice recorder in the cockpit would tell us a lot about what actually happened,” Nick pointed out.  “The plane didn’t crash so the FAA has no reason to impound it or the voice recorder for investigation.”

          Pete nodded, frowning thoughtfully.  “Good idea, Nick.  I’ll get on it later, after we watch this.”

          “If you could find a way to get a copy of the recording to us for analysis ..?” Nick went on.

          “Shouldn’t the recording answer all our questions?” Pete asked.

          “Well, maybe, but I don’t really suppose those two guys had time to explain what was happening.  If you believe you’ll hear something like ‘oh no, what’s that?  There’s a ghost on board, it’s going to scare me to death’, I think you’re gonna be disappointed.  What it can tell us is how fast it went down.”

          “Recordings sometimes have background noise which can reveal some hidden truths,” Derek added.  “Slow it down, a hiss can actually be words.  Speech.  But you need specialist equipment to search for those kinds of messages.”

          “An’ you have this specialist equipment,” Pete inferred.

          “It’s why you asked for our help,” Derek smiled.  “Shall we go in?”

          “Sure,” Pete agreed.

 

*****

 

          Frances stripped off the gloves and put them down.  For a long moment, she regarded the body she’d just examined.  Then she released a breath and pursed her lips.

          “Right now, I can’t tell you what killed these two men,” she admitted.  “The degree of rigor is extreme and it isn’t fading.  Internal organs are all intact.  There’s no evidence of trauma – no cuts, stab wounds, puncture marks.  I can say they died more or less at the same time so whatever attacked them hit simultaneously and fast.  When I get the tox screens back, it should tell us more.”

          “But, right now, all you can really say is that they died,” Pete commented.

          She hesitated.  “It is possible to die of fright.  The positions of the hands, the expressions on the faces .. does tend to lead me in that direction.  But the heart wasn’t affected.  Usually, in cases of severe shock, a cardiac arrest is the cause of death.  Not in these cases.  The nearest I can come to an explanation is .. one moment they were alive, and, the next, everything in their bodies switched off.  The heart stopped.  The brain ceased to function.  There was no slow wind down.  It was instantaneous .. and that isn’t possible.”

          Frances shook her head.  “Over to you .. an’ let me know what you find out.”

          “Will you let us have a copy of the tox screen when it comes in?” Derek requested.

          “Sure,” she nodded.  “Unofficially, of course.”

          “Of course,” he murmured.

          They left the morgue and paused to clear the smell of death and antiseptic from their noses.

          “I should get going,” Pete sighed.

          “You could come stay with us,” Derek offered.  “If we have the cause of these deaths in secure isolation, your investigation runs parallel to our own.  It would cut down on journey time.  Nick will be leading the examination of the sword.  You and I can work together on the supplementary investigation.”

          “It does seem to be tied in,” Pete agreed.  “Okay.  I accept.  I have to go back to the city to pack a bag an’ request the voice recorder but I can drive over to the island later.”

          “Here’s my card,” Nick said.  “If it looks like you’re gonna be late, call me.  I’ll come pick you up in the launch.”

          “Thanks.  And .. I’m sorry for earlier.”

          “Accepted,” Derek smiled.  “We’ll give you some tips on how to word your report.  We’re used to this.  You are still fairly new.”

          “For sure,” Pete sighed.  “I get this weird feeling though that I’m going to learn a lot in double quick time an’ that this is only the start of the learning curve.”  He winked.  “See you later.”

          Nick watched him head toward his car.  Pete’s step was weary, heavy with responsibility.

          “You think it’s a good idea, having him stay at the house?” he asked as they turned toward their own vehicle.

          “Pete Miller has proved himself to be level headed in a dangerous situation,” Derek replied.  “It is his police training and experience.  He is Rachel’s friend and his background holds no concerns for us.  Peri has cleared him.  And his .. approach is refreshingly grounded.  Tetsuo believes he is too close to the subject to be impartial, and we are so accustomed to thinking .. out of this world that someone like Pete Miller keeps us aware of other, more normal, practical possibilities.  He knows when he is out of his depth, Nick, and not many are willing to admit that.  I have no unease about having him stay.”

          “I’ll get Andrew to prepare a guestroom,” Nick said.

 

*****

 

          Pete caught the last ferry of the evening and drove up to the gate.  The guard there nodded at him.

          “You’re expected, Detective Miller.  Go on up.”

          Pete felt a strange, warm sensation.  It wasn’t friendship, or a sense of being welcome.  It was knowing that they trusted him.

          “Thanks.”  He continued up the drive to the house, parked by the garage, took his bag and walked back to the front door.  He rang the bell and waited.

          After a few moments, Andrew opened the door.  “Good evening, Detective Miller.  Please, come in.  A room has been prepared in the guest wing for your stay.  Unfortunately, you’re too late for supper but I’ve left a cold compilation in the kitchen.”

          So this was what it was like having a butler.  Pete felt he could get used to this.  “Thank you, Andrew.”

          “You’re welcome, sir.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

          “Kinda late leaving, aren’t you?”

          “I’m staying over tonight, sir.  I’ve missed the last ferry,” Andrew replied, closing the door and locking it.

          “That wasn’t because of me, was it?”

          “No, sir,” Andrew lied.

          Derek came downstairs.  “Ah, you made it then.  How was the crossing?”

          “Little rough.  It’s raining.  Wind’s been picking up all day.”

          “Thank you, Andrew,” Derek nodded.  “That’s all for tonight.  Pete, if you’d like to come this way, I’ll show you to your room.”

          Pete climbed the stairs.  “This is some place, Derek.  You ever get lost?”

          “Not recently.  When I was a child, exploring this house was the grandest adventure a boy could have.  I often got lost and my mother had to send out a search party.  And the others, when they first came here, had to learn their way around.  They have described it in various terms, the most endearing being a rat’s maze.”

          “Must cost something to keep going.”

          “I can afford it,” Derek smiled.  “The last time you were here – ”

          “During the visit of the TV guy.”

          “Oh yes.  I missed you on that occasion.  I was thinking of the time before.  But, last time, you were .. in the music room?”

          Pete nodded.  “I’ve never managed to get up the stairs before.”

          “Well .. on this floor is the library, the study, the lounge, the dining room.  And, up here,” Derek went on as he climbed the stairs, are the two wings of bedrooms.  Most of us live in this wing – myself, Alex, Nick and Peri.  Rachel and Kat have rooms there.  The guest wing is this way.”

          Derek led him along a passage and stopped at the first door.

          “Here you are.  Close enough to the stairs that you shouldn’t get lost too easily.  I’ll leave you to get settled for .. fifteen minutes, then take you down to the lounge.”

          “Where’s Andrew sleeping?” Pete asked, striking a blow for the common working man.

          “He has a room on the next floor up.”

          “Servants’ quarters?”

          “In the old days, yes.  Now it is staff quarters .. and more like a self contained apartment.  Andrew is a valued part of this household, Pete.  His contribution often goes beyond what we ask and he is always compensated, and not only with money.”

          Pete flushed a little.  “It’s the cop in me.  I have to poke into other people’s business.”

          “As do we, so I understand,” Derek graciously responded.

          Pete opened the door but didn’t enter.  “Has Nick made a start on the sword yet?”

          “He has begun.  It will be a slow process.  Until we know for sure there is no toxic residue, we won’t open the container.”

          “Smart move,” Pete commented.

          “Fifteen minutes,” Derek smiled.

          “Check.”

          Pete went inside, closed the door and groped for the light switch.  He found a room generously appointed, with a large comfortable bed, a sofa, a chair, a bureau, and a closet, set of drawers, and two nightstands.  So far, so good, he thought.  A door opened into a bathroom.  He checked the cabinet, looked behind the shower curtain, tried the faucets, and flushed the toilet.  He nodded.  All that was really lacking was a refrigerator and a mini-bar.

          Quickly, he exchanged his rumpled suit, shirt and tie for jeans, T-shirt and sweater.  When the knock came on the door, he was ready.

          “Derek said you’d be joining us in the lounge,” Nick greeted.

          “Yeah, that’s right.  Nick .. you’re a pretty much average guy.  You ever get used to having someone around to just wait on you?  Doesn’t it make you lazy?”

          Nick laughed.  “I’d like the chance.  You gotta remember, this isn’t just a house.  The Luna Foundation is a business.  We work hard every day.  Andrew takes care of the house for us.  It isn’t as though we give him orders.  There’s no room service here.”

          They descended the stairs and turned for the lounge.

          “How much has this house seen?” Pete asked quietly.  “I mean, my first visit .. I saw quite a lot which still makes me wake in a sweat.”

          “Not as much as it could have.  This place is still new.”

          “New?”

          “Few years.  But it’s an exact copy of the old house.  That one got saturated .. an’ we had to blow it up.”

          “You couldn’t call in the exterminators?”

          “Same thing,” Nick shrugged, gesturing at a door.

          Pete entered the lounge and blinked at the size of it, then at the fabulous view.  The windows were spattered with rain and the city lights glowed on the glass.  His apartment in San Bruno suddenly felt like a hole in the ground.

          “I think Andrew’s left you something to eat so I’ll go get it,” Nick remarked.  “What d’you wanna drink?  Beer?  Coffee?”

          “Beer sounds good.”

          “Man after my own heart,” Nick grinned.

          Derek came in as Nick went out.  “Settled?”

          “I think I’ll sleep well tonight,” Pete replied, “providing my number one suspect is securely locked away.”

          “It is,” Derek confirmed.

          “Tell me,” Pete began as he sat in the chair by the fire, “how do these .. spectral entities come into being?  They’re not ghosts, are they?”

          Derek sat opposite him.  “A ghost is a spectral entity but spectral entities are not always ghosts.  Usually, they are created by powerful magical incantations and then bound into service to an item, in this case a sword.  Occasionally, they are created accidentally and kept alive by the combined power of belief and energy from the soul.”

          “Really.  Give me an example,” Pete requested, leaning forward.

          “We all like to believe we have a guardian angel watching over us, keeping us from harm.  We say something potentially dangerous, inviting harm upon ourselves, and then we touch wood.  If we believe strongly enough, we can create a spectral entity whose job it is to watch over us.  If we touch wood when we say the words, and our belief is strong, the guardian may reside in that wood.  Wishing is a force in itself.  The saying be careful what you wish for, it may come true, isn’t necessarily just a saying.”

          Pete nodded.  “I’ve often said there’s a patron saint of cops.  Every time I survive a near miss …  I can see how it could happen.  But that isn’t what happened here, is it?”

          “I don’t believe so,” Derek replied.  “If this is the sword of Amaterasu, its power was granted by a god.  And gods can be notoriously fickle in their favors.”

          “Hence a sword that can kill and cure,” Pete remarked.

          Derek nodded.  “We have to be very careful how we deal with this thing.  We have to persuade it that we mean it no harm, even as we tell it that its days of glory are long since over.”

          “Never considered that.  There again .. I have real trouble getting my head around anything you do.  It’s best, I’ve found, not to ask questions.  I feel so much better if I just .. accept things.”

          “Often a very wise decision,” Derek commented.  “Let the experts deal with their own area of expertise.”

 

*****

 

          Pete Miller slept soundly that night.  He thought he might have been disturbed by nightmares but there was something about being in this house with these people which .. both caused nightmares and prevented them.  He felt safe.  He was with the experts and he trusted them more than they trusted him.  That knowledge, a subconscious truth even if he didn’t actively consider it, meant that he slept well.  So well, in fact, that he rose feeling better than he had in months.  He showered and dressed, keeping it casual for this stage of the investigation, and went to find his breakfast.

          He met Nick in the foyer as Nick came in from his early morning run.

          “Hi,” Nick greeted.  “Sleep okay?”

          “Like a baby.  I feel really safe when I’m here.”

          Nick nodded.  “We got protection in place.  Nothing evil can get in.”

          “Really ..?  Then, how come I saw, right here in this foyer – ?”

          “That didn’t come in from outside.  It was summoned from inside the house.”  Nick angled his head.  “I don’t make it a habit to call up demons in my spare time, not that I get that much spare time.  Neither does Derek summon creatures best left well alone.  Not so sure about Andrew but he hasn’t done it yet.  That only leaves you .. an’ I don’t think you know how.”

          Pete grinned.  “No, an’ I don’t wanna know either.  So .. these protections, an’ I’m not gonna ask what form they take cos I probably won’t understand the answer, are they a one way deal?”

          “Uh uh,” Nick said as he headed for the stairs.  “Evil can’t get in, but, if it’s in here, it can’t get out.  It’s contained so we can deal with it.”

          Pete nodded slowly.

          “You want breakfast?” Nick asked.

          “Sure.”

          “Dining room.  Upstairs.  I’ll show you.”

          Pete tagged along behind the younger man.  “So .. this entity in the sword .. it can’t get out of the house.”

          Nick halted on the landing.  “The current situation is that it can get out of the crate, if it wants to, but it can’t get out of the container.  If it did, by some chance, escape from that, it can’t get out of the lab.”

          “But, if, by some chance, it did?  I just wanna be prepared.”

          “It can’t get out of the house,” Nick stated firmly.  “Those protections are rock solid.  But it won’t even escape from the container.”

          “Even if this entity was given its power by a god?” Pete queried.  “Is the Luna Foundation that mighty an organization that it can take on old gods with complete impunity?”

          Nick hesitated.

          Pete nodded.  “That’s what I figured.  So .. we could be in for some trouble then.”

 

 

 

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