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 FIVE 

Who’s That Knocking

at the Door?



Out in the entrance hall, I paused for a moment, feeling the weight of history pressing down on me. For many years Ringstone Lodge had stood alone, miles from anywhere, the better to preserve its secrets. And once it became an interrogation and debriefing centre, there was no telling how much pain and horror these old walls had soaked up. All the years, all the people who had passed through, and the things they said and did to each other . . . Could this old house be haunted by so much awful history?

Considering how many strange things I’d dealt with in my time, why was I finding it so hard to accept the possibility of ghosts? If aliens and monsters were real, why not the walking dead and spirits from the vasty deeps? Was it simply that I couldn’t stand the thought of all the people I’d killed for the greater good coming back to accuse me? All the men and women with bloody holes in their chests and backs, or with heads lolling limply on their shoulders from snapped necks, all the burned bodies and waterlogged corpses . . . What would I say to them if they stood before me?

I like to tell myself I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t need killing; anyone whose death didn’t make the world a better and safer place. But how could I trust my morality when I couldn’t even trust my own memory? Sometimes I wonder whether I might be the biggest monster of them all . . .

Penny waited patiently at my side, and finally put a hand on my arm. “Don’t frown so hard, sweetie, you’ll give yourself wrinkles. What are you thinking about?”

“The past,” I said. “And how it has a way of creeping up on you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t freeze me out, Ishmael,” she said. “How can I help, if I don’t know what the problem is?”

“Not every problem has an answer,” I said. “But I will tell you one thing, we are not going down to the basement.”

“We’re not?” said Penny. “MacKay seemed very certain that we were.”

I smiled at her. “You know I don’t react well to authority figures. Especially when they start barking orders at me.”

“I had noticed, yes. But you must admit he has a point. Things happened down in the basement that we don’t understand yet. I know you don’t want to admit it, Ishmael, but given that the killer left no physical evidence behind, isn’t it possible that Parker could have been killed by a ghost?”

“If he’d been frightened to death, maybe,” I said patiently. “But whoever heard of a ghost stabbing someone?”

“Why are you so resistant to the idea that this spooky old place might be haunted?” said Penny. “After everything we’ve seen . . .”

“There’s no need for a supernatural explanation, when there are so many real-world suspects,” I said. “A lot of people have a lot of good reasons for wanting Parker dead. That’s why we were sent here, after all.”

“The Organization must have suspected there was some otherworldly aspect to this case,” Penny said stubbornly. “Or why would they have chosen you?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m still thinking about that.”

“If we’re not going down to the basement,” said Penny, “where are we going?”

“To check the doors,” I said. “Make sure they really are properly locked and secure. It occurred to me that if someone has hacked into Martin’s computers, they could have taken control of one particular door and its cameras so they could come and go unobserved.”

“If there’s a door that hasn’t been affected by the lockdown,” said Penny, “then our killer could escape at any time, long before reinforcements turn up!”

“Sometimes,” I said, “It’s all about crossing the i’s and dotting the t’s.”

“Alien!” said Penny.


We started with the front door. I checked it carefully but couldn’t see any sign of it being tampered with. It was very thoroughly locked, and while I rattled the door for all it was worth, just on the off chance, I couldn’t budge it an inch for all my strength.

“Very solid door, that,” Penny said solemnly.

“Very,” I said. “And a lot heavier than its size would suggest. Wouldn’t surprise me if it had a solid-steel core.”

“Could you break it down?” asked Penny. “If you had to? If something messy hit the fan and we had to leave in a hurry?”

“Probably,” I said.

We made our rounds of the ground floor, but it turned out there was only one other exterior door. And the back door turned out to be just as heavy and just as locked. All the time we were going back and forth, I kept waiting for Martin to say something; to challenge us over where we were and what we were doing, and why I wasn’t following MacKay’s instructions. But he never said a word. I could hear Baxter and Redd searching through one room after another, but I couldn’t hear anyone else. All the corridors were equally empty, and almost suffocatingly quiet. The Lodge had the feeling of a very large house with very few people in it. Like we were just mice in a maze; moving this way and that, with no idea of what was really going on.

“All right,” said Penny, when we finally returned to the entrance hall. “What now? Check all the windows?”

“No,” I said. “A window without a shutter in place would be far too easy to spot.”

“Maybe we should go down to the basement,” Penny suggested tactfully. “What if there’s a hidden way in? Some secret tunnel connecting the basement to the grounds? That would explain how the killer was able to get to Parker without being noticed or detected.”

“Good idea,” I said. “In a house this old, a few architectural secrets should come as standard.”

And that was when Baxter and Redd came striding into the entrance hall, having completed their search of the ground floor. I’d gone out of my way to avoid them, in the name of peace and quiet and not brawling in public. But now here they were standing right in front of me. And not looking at all happy about it. Baxter was scowling, as usual, while Redd was as coldly unreadable as ever. It bothered me that, while I usually had a pretty good idea of what was passing through Baxter’s mind, I had no idea at all of what was going on behind Redd’s enigmatic features.

“Why aren’t you down in the basement, where you belong?” Baxter said accusingly.

“We’re just going there,” said Penny. “Have you found anything?”

“No,” said Redd. “If anyone else is inside the Lodge, they’re really good at moving around without leaving any traces. Could be a ghost, or it could be a trained professional. Like an Organization field agent, for example.”

“Right!” said Baxter, fixing me with his fiercest glare. “What are you doing here? Spying on us? The ground floor is our responsibility; we don’t need anyone looking over our shoulder.”

“Damn right!” said Redd. “Unless, of course, you’re trying to hide some piece of evidence from us.”

“This is what the killer wants,” I said steadily. “Wasting time arguing with each other, instead of working together to find him.”

“But what if he doesn’t need finding?” said Redd. “What if he’s been right under our noses all along?”

“If you’ve got something to say,” I said, “say it. I’m listening.”

“Everything was fine till you got here,” said Baxter. “The field agent with the mysterious background, the trained killer with more dirty secrets than the rest of us put together.”

“What is your problem?” Penny said sharply. “You’ve had a mad on for Ishmael ever since we got here.”

“Bax applied to be a field agent,” said Redd, “and the Organization turned him down. Never said why, but then they don’t have to. I told him he was too clean for the kind of dirty work they do.”

“We don’t need you here!” said Baxter, glaring right into my face. “We’re all the security the Lodge needs.”

“Really?” I said. “The man you were supposed to protect was killed while you were busy seeing ghosts around every corner.”

“I didn’t see any ghosts!” said Baxter. “There aren’t any ghosts.”

And he jumped me, his heavy hands reaching for my throat. He looked ready to do me some serious harm, so I quickly stepped inside his reach, grabbed two handfuls of his shirtfront, and threw him across the hall. He flew through the air surprisingly gracefully, given his size and weight, and hit the floor really hard. He rolled painfully for several feet before coming to a halt. I expected the impact to slow him down, maybe even knock a little sense into him, but he just shrugged it off and scrambled up on to his feet again. He looked even angrier, if that was possible, and now he was grinning savagely. This was what he’d wanted all along: an excuse to beat and break and humiliate me. To prove to himself that he was the better man, more than a match for any damned field agent.

He took up a practised martial arts stance and came at me again, more cautiously this time. He struck out at me with vicious speed and strength, his blows and kicks demonstrating reasonably good form; but to me, he might as well have been moving in slow motion. I avoided most of his attacks and blocked the others with enough strength to make him grunt with pain as well as surprise. And then I grabbed his shirtfront again and threw him across the hall the other way. He landed harder this time and took longer to get up on to his feet. He was breathing hard. I wasn’t. He came forward again, and I wondered if I was going to have to do him some serious damage to stop him. I didn’t want to have to do that. In his own obnoxious way, Baxter was just doing his job. And taking down one of our own people would have been exactly what the killer wanted.

So I waited till Baxter was almost upon me and then hit him once, swift and hard, right under the breastbone. He never saw it coming, never had a chance to defend himself. My fist slammed in deep, driving all the breath out of him. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes squeezing shut as all the colour drained out of his face. His legs gave up and he suddenly sat down on the floor, like a small child who’d just run out of steam. I waited a moment, to be sure it was all over, and then looked to see what Redd was doing.

He started towards me, his face set and cold, and Penny stepped forward to block his way. He gestured sharply for her to stand aside, but she shook her head, smiling sweetly. Redd looked at her with an almost indifferent anger.

“Get out of my way, girl. This is none of your business.”

“Ishmael is my business,” said Penny. “He belongs to me, just like Baxter belongs to you. I think we should all calm down and behave like grown-ups. Don’t you?”

“Move!” said Redd. “Or I’ll hurt you.”

“Not on the best day you ever had,” said Penny.

He grabbed for her wrist, to throw her out of his way. She seized hold of his arm, swept around, and threw him neatly over her shoulder in a perfectly executed judo throw. He flew through the air and slammed into a wall, hitting it so hard even I winced. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, dazed. Penny marched forward to stand over him, both hands planted on her hips. She sniffed coldly.

“You can learn all kinds of useful things at a really good finishing school,” she said. “So don’t try anything like that again, or I will show you the special ball-breaking kick the nuns taught me at St. Theresa’s School for Exemplary Youngsters.”

She turned her back on Redd and came back to me, smiling brightly. I nodded approvingly.

“I knew you’d come in useful for something.”

“Have you quite finished playing with your little friend?” said Penny.

“I think he’s had enough,” I said. “I’m not a violent man . . .”

“Oh, I think you are, really,” said Penny.

“Only when I have to be,” I said. “This hasn’t solved anything.”

“Probably not,” Penny conceded. “But at least they’ll now keep their distance while they’re being mean to us.”

I picked Baxter up effortlessly. He made a low noise, as though he’d like to protest but didn’t have the strength. I carried him across the hall and set him down next to Redd, who looked like he was still trying to figure out what had just happened. I arranged them neatly side by side and then stepped back. Baxter and Redd glared up at me, like I’d cheated. Which, strictly speaking, I had. They were used to human opponents.

“If I really was the killer, you’d both be dead now,” I said. “Think about it.”

I turned away, and Penny raised an eyebrow.

“What now? Down to the basement in search of hidden tunnels?”

“No,” I said. “The lounge. I think we need to have words with Doctor Hayley and Doctor Doyle.”

“I’ve got a few good words for them,” said Penny. “But what if they don’t want to talk to us?”

“I can be very persuasive,” I said. “When I put my mind to it.”

Penny shrugged. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t involve throwing more people around. I’m pretty sure that’s not conducive to a good working relationship.”

“Almost certainly not,” I said. “But if they should act up, you take Hayley and I’ll hide behind you.”

“Not a chance,” said Penny. “I get the feeling she could be seriously scary if she put her mind to it.”

“Of course,” I said. “She’s an interrogator.”


When I slammed open the door to the lounge and marched in without knocking, Hayley and Doyle both looked round quickly. As though they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. They clearly hadn’t expected to be interrupted. They were sitting on the big sofa again, with a whole mess of papers spread out on the coffee table. They put down the ones they’d been studying and stood up to face us. Hayley had her usual aggressive face on, while Doyle looked calmer and more collected now he’d got something useful to occupy his mind.

“What are you doing here?” said Hayley.

“Keeping busy,” I said. “What are you doing?”

Hayley and Doyle couldn’t help glancing at the papers laid out on the coffee table. I stepped forward for a better look, and Hayley moved as though to stop me. I gave her a look, and she stepped back again. You don’t get to be an experienced interrogator without being able to read people’s intentions. I looked at the papers; copious handwritten notes on everything they’d seen and heard, and what they thought it meant. Most of it was in the same hand. Hayley’s, most likely.

“Why aren’t you using your laptop?” said Penny.

Hayley glanced across at it, lying closed at the far end of the coffee table. She shrugged, stiffly.

“It occurred to me that if our killer has been able to hack into Martin’s computers, he’d have no trouble getting into mine. It’s easier to keep paper private.”

“Unless someone walks in on you unexpectedly,” I said. “I think you’d better talk me through this, Doctor Hayley. It’s good to share.”

She sighed and sat down on the sofa, and after a moment Doyle did too. Penny and I sat down beside them, after Hayley made Doyle budge up to give us some room. I leafed quickly through the papers, with Penny leaning in beside me. It was all very detailed, very businesslike. Treating murder like just another puzzle to be solved. I started to say something, and Hayley quickly put up a hand to stop me. She gestured for all of us to lean in close and put our heads together. Penny looked at me and I nodded.

“Why are we doing this?” I asked politely.

“So we can speak privately,” said Hayley, her voice little more than a murmur. “I don’t want Martin hearing what we have to say.”

“Why not?” said Penny. “Don’t you trust him?”

“I don’t trust anyone here,” Hayley said coldly. “But especially not Martin. It could explain a lot, if someone has paid him to be not quite as attentive as he should be. But even if he is on the level, he’s still a sneak. I don’t want him running to MacKay and telling tales out of school. Robbie and I have been comparing notes on events, interpretations and possible motivations . . . and we think we know who the killer is.”

“You’ve got a suspect already?” said Penny. “Cool! Who is it?”

“MacKay,” said Doyle.

I looked at Penny and she looked at me, and then we both looked at Hayley and Doyle.

“Why?” I said.

Hayley counted off the points on her fingers. “Only MacKay has access to all areas of Ringstone Lodge. Including the security centre. He’s always very good about waiting for Martin to open the door for him, but he once let slip to me that he has a master key for every lock in the building, for emergencies. He knows the Lodge inside out, which means he could know special places where he could hide himself away any time he feels like it. And he’s an ex-soldier. He’d know how to kill a man with a knife, silently and effectively. If he can open the security centre door, he might well be able to do the same for the cell in the basement and know how to wipe all traces of what he’d done from the security systems. He was here before Martin, after all. Who knows what backdoor commands he might have installed in the computers?”

“And, of course, Parker wouldn’t have been surprised to see MacKay,” said Doyle. “Until it was too late.”

“Not bad,” I said. “Logical, hangs together well. Makes sense, mostly.”

“We never miss Agatha Christie on television,” said Doyle. “We love all her mysteries . . . Not for the murders, you understand, but for the problem-solving element.”

“The only thing missing,” I said, “is motive. What reason could MacKay have to kill Parker?”

Hayley and Doyle looked at each other.

“You said it yourself, Ishmael,” Hayley said finally. “A lot of people wanted Parker dead, before he could talk about all the things he’d done for them. All of them ready to pay good money to have Parker silenced. MacKay isn’t a young man any more. He put off retirement once, but age is creeping up on him. He can’t have many years left at Ringstone Lodge, and he must know it. This kind of payoff would mean his inevitable retirement could at least be comfortable. But now I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead,” I said generously. “You’re on a roll. Go for it, ask me anything. Don’t let me stop you.”

“Why did you bring Penny to Ringstone Lodge?” Hayley said flatly. “What purpose does she serve?”

“I am decorative and functional,” Penny said sweetly. “I can do many things, including brightening a room just by being in it.”

“It’s true,” I said. “You’d be amazed what she can do.”

“Organization field agents always work alone,” said Doyle. “Everyone knows that. So what is she really?”

“She’s my partner,” I said.

“I’m his better half,” said Penny.

“She keeps me human,” I said.

“You were the only agent to work in the field with the previous Colonel,” Doyle said heavily. “Why did he decide it was necessary for him to involve himself in the dangers of fieldwork? And why choose you, out of all the field agents at his command?”

I looked thoughtfully at Doyle. “How do you know about the cases the Colonel and I worked on together?”

“It’s in your file,” said Hayley. “Along with some other interesting facts. You first joined the Organization in 1963. Which would make you a contemporary of Frank Parker.”

“Except there’s a good forty years difference between the way you look,” said Doyle. “What happened? Was your plastic surgery much more successful than his?”

“Perhaps,” I said carefully, “I am not the first agent to use the Ishmael Jones name.”

Doyle and Hayley looked at each other.

“Of course,” said Hayley. “I knew there was no way any one man could have done all the things Ishmael Jones is supposed to have done.”

“It does make sense,” said Doyle.

“Now answer the question,” said Hayley.

“Sorry,” I said. “What question was that?”

“Why, out of all the field agents at his disposal, did the previous Colonel pick you to work with?” said Hayley. “Especially when he shouldn’t have been out in the field himself anyway?”

“That sounds less like a question,” I said, “and more like an accusation. I worked with the Colonel on occasion because that was the way he wanted it. Beyond that, I never asked, and he never said. Now I work with Penny because that’s the way I want it. And as long as I continue to get results, the Organization doesn’t give a damn how I do the things I do.”

And then I stopped and looked up, as the lights in the lounge flickered for several moments, before becoming steady again. Penny and I stood up and looked around the lounge. The lights flickered again, more noticeably this time. As though someone was nudging the switches. Hayley took in the look on our faces and rose to her feet, followed immediately by Doyle.

“What is it?” said Hayley, not bothering to keep her voice down any more. “What’s wrong? The lights? Just faulty wiring? You have to expect things like that in a house this old.”

“That’s not all you can find in some old houses,” said Penny. “Martin warned us about this.”

“Warned you about what?” said Doyle.

“He’s seen lights flickering before,” I said. “And lights turning themselves off and on, for no good reason. He says he’s checked, and there’s nothing wrong with the wiring or the generator or main systems. He blames . . . not necessarily natural means.”

“Ghosts?” said Hayley. “Martin thinks the spirits of the dead are running around turning the lights on and off? What does he think they’ll do next? Tie our shoelaces together when we’re not looking?”

“But it would be very bad if the lights went out,” said Doyle. “That would be horrible.”

Something in his voice made all of us turn to look at him. Doyle was peering around the room with almost childlike fear and anticipation. All the colour had disappeared from his face, and his mouth was trembling. The progress he’d made from his previous fright had been undone in a moment. Hayley patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice.

I looked carefully around the lounge. The lights were steady again now, bright and cheerful. But the darkness beyond the great bay window was worryingly complete. I couldn’t even make out a glimpse of the grounds beyond. I was seized by a sudden certainty that the world outside was gone, swallowed up by the dark, and only we were left in this small island of light. Something cold settled in the pit of my stomach, and my hands clenched into fists. Hayley gave us all her fiercest scowl.

“This ghost nonsense has got to stop!” she said loudly. “Whatever people might be seeing or think they’re seeing, there’s nothing supernatural going on here.”

“That’s not what you said earlier,” said Penny.

“That was then,” said Hayley. “We have a real problem now, with a real murderer somewhere at large in the Lodge. We can’t allow ourselves to be distracted by such . . . fancies.”

“I was always afraid of the dark, as a child,” said Doyle. “Back then there were no streetlights where I lived, so when my mother turned off the bedroom light it was very dark. And I would lie there too scared to sleep, worrying that the rest of the world had gone away and I was all that was left. Sometimes a car would go past in the road outside and for a moment my room would be full of light and sound and hope; and then the car would move on, taking its light and sound with it, and I would be left alone in the dark.”

We all looked round sharply, turning to face the door as we heard footsteps outside the lounge, heading down the corridor towards us. The same kind of footsteps Penny and I had heard outside our room, up on the top floor. Slow and deliberate, and far too heavy to be human. Doyle made a soft desperate sound, and Hayley grabbed hold of his arm with both hands. None of us took our eyes off the door as the footsteps drew steadily nearer, heavy and deliberate, and invested with terrible intent. Penny moved in close beside me, her face set and determined.

And yet, for all the sound and fury of the footsteps, I couldn’t feel any vibrations through the floor. Steps that heavy should have made a hell of an impact, and the vibrations should have carried on through the wooden floorboards . . . But I wasn’t picking up anything, as though whatever was making the footsteps had no physical presence at all.

“Martin?” I said, raising my voice. “Can you see if there’s anyone outside the lounge? Martin!”

There was no response. Just the sound of the footsteps drawing menacingly closer.

“Why can’t he hear us?” said Doyle. His face was wet with sweat, and there was a lost, fey look to his eyes that I really didn’t like. “Martin said he had microphones in every room. He must be able to hear us!”

He jerked his arm free of Hayley and waved his hands above his head, trying to attract Martin’s attention.

“Robbie, no!” said Hayley. “We don’t need Martin. We can handle this.”

Doyle’s arms dropped to his sides. He was breathing heavily. And when he looked at Hayley, his eyes were full of terrible apprehension.

“It’s out there,” he said. “And it wants in.”

“What does?” said Hayley.

“The dark,” said Doyle.

The footsteps crashed to a halt, right outside the lounge door. And then there was a long pause. Not a sound to be heard. Hayley and Doyle had their eyes fixed on the door. Penny and I glanced at each other, and I was surprised to find a mischievous gleam in her eyes. My heart warmed as I realized that out of all of us in the room she was the only one who wanted to open the door and see what was there. Just for the satisfaction of knowing. I grinned at her, and she grinned back.

Something knocked on the door. Loud, heavy knocks. But the door didn’t shiver once in its frame. As though it felt nothing, as though the knocks had no physical impact. I headed for the door, and Penny was right there beside me.

“No!” said Doyle. “Please don’t open that door. Don’t let it in.”

I stopped and looked back at him. “Why not?” I said, as kindly as I could. “What could be out there that would be so bad? If it’s dark, we’ll turn on some more lights. And if there is someone there, I’ll deal with them. That’s what I’m here for.”

“But there might be someone out there we really don’t want to see,” said Hayley. Her voice was surprisingly unsteady. “It might be Parker. Standing there, with the knife still stuck in his chest. Smiling, refusing to die, come to kill us.”

“You’re getting as bad as Doyle,” I said.

“Why would Parker want to come after you?” said Penny. “What would he have against you? You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No,” said Doyle. “But we left him locked in his cage, trapped and helpless. Left him on his own with death coming for him and nowhere to run.”

“Who’s there?” Hayley said loudly to the door, trying hard to sound angry instead of scared. “Who’s out there? Answer me!”

There was no response. No answer to her demands, no more knocking, no more footsteps. Just this feeling of a presence waiting on the other side of the door. Just a silence, that seemed to have a weight and a substance of its own. Pressing up against the other side of the closed door.

“Well,” I said, as lightly as I could, “there’s only one way to find out who it is.”

I walked steadily forward, with Penny only a step behind me. I stopped in front of the door and listened carefully, but couldn’t hear anything. I took hold of the door handle and then looked at Penny, making sure she was braced and ready. She nodded quickly.

“Who do you think it is?” she said.

“I think . . . someone is messing with us,” I said. “And I also think that when I get my hands on them they are going to be very sorry they ever thought this would be funny. Whoever is out there, I’m going to punch them in the head.”

“What if your fist goes right through them?” said Penny.

“If this is just an insubstantial ghost,” I said patiently, “it wouldn’t be able to knock on the door, would it? And it wouldn’t need us to open the door. It would walk right through it.”

“For someone who doesn’t believe in ghosts, you know an awful lot about them,” said Penny.

“It’s hard to avoid ghost stories,” I said. “Your culture is obsessed with death.”

“Maybe it is Parker,” said Penny, looking steadily at the door. “A dead man walking, with murder on his mind. Not necessarily his own.”

“Then I shall punch him even harder in the head,” I said, “for making our job more difficult.”

I jerked the door open and stepped out into the corridor. It was completely empty. No sign of anyone, anywhere. No sign to show that anyone had ever been there. The corridor stretched away before us, open and silent and not in any way menacing. It looked back at me quite innocently, as if to say, “What are you looking at me for? I’m just a corridor.”

“Perhaps they ran away?” said Penny.

“No,” I said. “We would have heard that.”

“What about that marvellous bloodhound nose of yours?” Penny said quietly. “Can you smell anyone?”

“I can smell you, Hayley, and Doyle,” I said. “But not even a trace of anyone else. And I am definitely not picking up any of the distinctive odours you would expect to accompany a dead body.”

“Then what made all those sounds?” said Penny.

“Good question,” I said. “It’s like someone’s trying to throw a scare into us . . .”

Hayley came forward and looked cautiously out of the door and up and down the corridor. She still had one hand on Doyle’s arm, keeping him close by her. Neither of them looked particularly relieved to see a completely empty corridor.

“We’re not alone in Ringstone Lodge,” said Doyle. “Something’s in here with us.”

“Something,” I agreed.

“But you still don’t think the place is haunted?” said Penny.

“I think someone wants us to think it is,” I said. “I wonder why . . .”

The lights started flickering again. Not just in the lounge, but all the lights up and down the length of the corridor. Many seemed on the point of going out completely.

“Oh no,” said Doyle. “Please . . . Don’t let the lights go out! I don’t think I could stand it.”

“I’m here with you. Show some backbone!” Hayley said sharply. She searched quickly through her jacket pockets. “I’ve got an emergency torch here with me, somewhere . . . Don’t let this get to you, Robbie. It’s just someone playing games.”

“Almost as though someone is trying to get our attention,” said Penny.

“Or make a point,” I said.

“Did you feel that?” Doyle said suddenly.

We all turned to look at him. Doyle pulled his arm free of Hayley’s grip and stumbled back into the lounge, looking quickly about him. Hayley went after him, like a mother in pursuit of a small child, but he barely noticed she was there. He waved one hand back and forth before him.

“What is it, Robbie?” Hayley said quietly. “Did you see something? Hear something? What?”

“It just got cold,” said Doyle. “Can’t you feel it, Alice? It’s suddenly very cold in here . . .”

I looked at Penny, and she looked at me.

“I don’t feel any difference in the temperature,” I said carefully.

“Me neither,” said Penny. “Maybe it’s just in one place.”

“Maybe it’s just in his head,” I said.

“A cold spot . . .” said Hayley. “I’ve read about those. Sudden drops in local temperature, an energy drain to fuel some kind of manifestation.”

“Can you feel this cold spot?” I said.

Hayley shook her head reluctantly. “No.”

She moved in close beside Doyle, trying to feel what he was feeling, though she obviously wasn’t.

“How can you not feel this?” said Doyle. “I’m freezing . . .”

“Then why isn’t your breath steaming on the air?” I said.

“Look!” Doyle said, pushing back his sleeves. “I’ve got gooseflesh!”

“I think your imagination is running away with you,” I said.

Doyle rounded on me. “Monsters are real in your world? Horrible things watching us from the deepest shadows of the hidden world?”

“Yes,” I said. “Monsters are real, sometimes. But just because some bad things exist, it doesn’t mean they all do. Sometimes a legend is just a legend. Just because we’re hearing and seeing things we can’t explain, it doesn’t mean there isn’t an explanation.”

“Yes!” Penny said brightly. “Ghosts.”

I looked at her. “Am I going to have to throw a bucket of cold water over you?”

“Listen up!” Martin’s voice said suddenly, and we all jumped, just a bit. “Pay attention! I need to tell you something.”

“Where the hell have you been?” I said. “Did you leave the security centre again?”

“What? No!” said Martin. “Of course not. I’ve been here all the time. I did have to use the commode, but it’s on a swivel like the chair so I don’t have to miss anything. Why?”

“Because we’ve been yelling our heads off,” said Doyle. “Calling to you for help, and you didn’t answer!”

There was a pause. And then Martin said steadily, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I was waving my arms around like an idiot,” said Doyle. “You must have seen that!”

“I can’t watch all the screens, all the time,” said Martin. “I must have missed you. What’s been happening?”

“The lights in here have been flickering,” I said. “Though I notice that it seems to have stopped now. And then someone came walking down the corridor to bang on our door. But when I went to look there was no one there. Have you seen anyone moving around in this corridor?”

“No,” said Martin. “Nobody. Damn! I miss all the good stuff. Let me just check the records . . . No, no sounds of footsteps or knockings. And no one moving anywhere near the lounge.”

“What about Baxter and Redd?” said Hayley. “Are they still somewhere on the ground floor?”

“Yes,” said Martin. “But nowhere near you.”

“Would your microphones actually be able to record ghostly footsteps?” Penny asked suddenly.

“Interesting question,” said Martin. “I suppose if we were hearing them on some psychic level, instead of through our ears, then possibly . . .”

“Martin!” I said sharply. “Concentrate! What did you want? You said you needed to tell us something.”

“Oh, yes!” said Martin. “I’ve caught someone running around, on my screens. Or at least I think I have. The figure comes and goes so quickly that at first I wondered . . . No! There he is! I’m looking at him right now.”

“Who is it?” I said.

“I think it might be Parker,” said Martin. “It’s just a dim figure . . . but definitely not one of us.”

“What makes you think it’s Parker?” I said.

“Well, who else could it be?” said Martin. “I can’t get a good look at him, he’s moving too quickly. I’m just getting glimpses as he moves from one screen to another.”

“Is he setting off the motion trackers?” said Hayley.

“No,” said Martin. “No, he isn’t. Which is odd, because he should be. All my systems are working normally, there’s not a red light anywhere.”

“It could be Parker’s killer,” said Penny, “if we’re really not alone in the Lodge.”

“Ghosts . . .” said Doyle. “The restless dead. Nothing rests easily at Ringstone Lodge . . .”

“I’m sure I’ve got a sedative about me somewhere,” said Hayley.

“Where is this person right now?” I said. “Can you see him, Martin?”

“He’s on the ground floor,” Martin said steadily. “Or at least he was . . . I seem to have lost track of him for the moment. But the last I saw of him, he was very definitely heading in your direction—and I don’t think it’s because he fancies a nice sit down and a chat. Look, I don’t think you should stay there. I don’t know whether what I’m seeing is Parker or his killer, but either way it would be a really bad idea if you are still there when he turns up. So get out of there! Now!”

“Don’t you start getting hysterical,” I said. “Will everybody please calm down! I am a trained field agent, and I will handle whoever or whatever this is.”

“By punching it in the head,” said Penny.

“Always a good start,” I said. “Doctor Hayley, Doctor Doyle, stay here in the lounge. I’ll go see what’s out there. You can lock the door after I’m gone.”

“I’m going too,” Penny said quickly. “Whatever it is, I want to see it.”

“Of course you do,” I said. “If you’re very good, I’ll let you punch him in the head as well.”

“You spoil me,” said Penny.

“I can’t lock the door,” said Hayley. “I don’t have a key.”

“Then use furniture to barricade it,” I said. “Pile up as much as you need to feel safe.”

“What if the lights go out?” said Doyle.

“I’ve got my emergency torch,” said Hayley.

“It’s not a very big torch,” said Doyle.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, Robbie!” said Hayley.


I set off down the corridor with Penny at my side. The lounge door slammed shut behind us. Followed by the sound of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor to push up against the door. I took a good look round, but there was no sign of anybody, living or dead. The corridor stretched away before me, completely quiet and utterly deserted. The old house seemed very still, as though expecting something to happen. Penny stood close beside me, waiting patiently.

“There must have been something out here,” she said finally. “We all heard something.”

“Hearing isn’t necessarily believing,” I said. “But either way, there’s nothing here now.”

“Martin seemed very sure someone was heading our way,” said Penny. “But I can’t hear anything. Can you hear anything, space boy?”

I strained my ears against the quiet. “No, nothing. Just a few ticking clocks, one of which could use oiling.”

“Show-off!” said Penny.

“Well, if our intruder won’t come to us, I think we should go looking for him.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” said Penny.

I set off down the corridor and Penny marched along beside me, matching me step for step. I loved the way she was always ready to throw herself into anything. Never a moment’s doubt or hesitation. I liked to think it was because she had faith in my ability to deal with whatever happened, to protect her from anything; but as she’d already demonstrated to poor Redd, she didn’t need anyone’s protection.

“Are we heading anywhere in particular?” said Penny.

“Back to the entrance hall,” I said. “We have to cover most of the ground floor to get there, and we’ll end up not far from the security centre. So I can ask Martin a few pointed questions about this elusive intruder.”

“Are you sure you remember the way back?” Penny said doubtfully. “It’s a big house, and we took quite a few turns.”

“I remember all of them,” I said.

Penny looked at me. “How?”

“I paid attention.”

“You can be very irritating on occasion, Ishmael,” said Penny.

Sometimes I have no idea what she’s talking about.


But just a few corridors later I caught a familiar scent on the air, from not far ahead. I increased my pace, as the heavy coppery smell of freshly spilled blood became increasingly clear. I rounded another corner and came to an abrupt halt, as I saw Baxter lying on the floor with blood all over his chest.

Penny slammed to a halt beside me, swore briefly under her breath as she saw Baxter, and then started to move forward again. I stopped her.

“Is he dead?” she said, her voice quite steady.

“Yes,” I said.

“Are you sure? There might be something we could do . . .”

“No,” I said. “He’s dead. I can tell. You stay here, while I check the body and the surrounding area.”

“I know, crime scene!” she said. “I get it . . . Wait a minute, can you hear anyone anywhere near here?”

“No,” I said. “It’s just us. And him.”

I moved forward, slowly and carefully, checking the heavy carpet for drops of blood or foot imprints, but there was nothing. No sign to show anyone had ever been here. Our killer was very good at covering his tracks. The corridor was long and narrow and completely deserted. No nearby doors leading off, nowhere for the killer to be hiding. He’d just done his work and left. I knelt down beside the body and looked it over.

Baxter was lying on his back. His eyes were open and unblinking. He’d taken a single stab wound to the heart. There was blood all over his chest, but no knife left in the killing wound this time. No defensive wounds. Baxter knew who killed him and had let the killer get close. I couldn’t see him doing that with a walking dead man, so that would seem to rule out Parker. Unless Parker had just appeared before him out of nowhere . . .

A thought occurred to me, and I checked his shoulder holster. It was empty. I checked the floor around the body, but there was no sign of the gun anywhere. So, the killer had a gun now. I stood up and turned to Penny.

“Dead. One stab wound to the chest, just like Parker.”

“So whoever it is didn’t just come here to eliminate Parker,” said Penny. “Unless . . . the killer got trapped in here when the Lodge went into lockdown. But then why would he hang around after his work was done? Surely a professional would know better? Perhaps he wants to kill us all in case Parker told us something!”

“You’re really getting the hang of this deduction thing,” I said. “At least there’s nothing impossible about this murder. No locked door. Someone just walked up to Baxter and killed him where he stood.”

Penny frowned. “But who would Baxter trust to let him get that close?”

“Good question,” I said. “And I have another. Why didn’t Martin see this happening on his screens and sound the alarm?” I raised my voice. “Martin! Baxter’s been killed. I’m with the body . . . Martin! Damn, he’s not hearing me again. Someone must have taken control of his systems and is turning them on and off as necessary.” I stopped, and looked thoughtfully at Baxter. “Why kill him? I mean, why him specifically as opposed to the rest of us?”

“Because he was on his own?” said Penny. “Because he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw something he shouldn’t have?”

“But where’s his partner?” I said. “Those two are never apart.”

We both looked round sharply as we heard approaching feet. But these were perfectly normal sounds, entirely human. I could feel the vibrations through the wood of the floor. And all I had to do was sniff the air to know who it was.

“It’s Redd,” I said to Penny.

He came round the corner quite casually, then stopped as he saw us standing beside Baxter’s body. He made a harsh animal sound of grief. I started to say something, and he stopped me with a gesture.

“Get away from him!” he said. “Don’t you touch him . . .”

I stepped back, and Penny did too. Redd came forward quite slowly, staring unblinkingly at the dead man, until finally he knelt down beside him. He stared at Baxter for a long moment, and I couldn’t read a single thing in his expression. Redd reached out to touch Baxter’s face, and then pulled back his hand.

“I told you not to go off on your own, Bax,” he said quietly, almost confidentially. He stared up at me accusingly. “He was looking for you, because you humiliated him. It wasn’t enough for you to beat him, you had to make it look easy. This is all your fault!”

“We were nowhere near here when this happened,” said Penny. “We just found him. Ishmael and I were in the lounge, with Hayley and Doyle. You can ask them. Or Martin can confirm it.”

“Yes!” said Martin, his voice rising clearly out of nowhere. “I was just talking to them all, in the lounge.”

“Oh! You’re back again, are you?” I said.

“What do you mean?” he said. “I haven’t been anywhere.”

“I spoke to you just now and you didn’t answer,” I said.

“Shut up!” said Redd. “Just stop talking! Martin, did you see who killed Bax?”

“No,” said Martin. “I’m sorry but I’ve been busy, trying to track an intruder on my screens. I never saw this.”

Redd took Baxter in his arms and cradled the dead man, rocking him gently back and forth like a mother with a sleeping child.

“He was a good soldier,” Redd said finally. “Not very complicated, but then he didn’t need to be. He had me for that. And he had the heart of a lion. He wasn’t afraid of anyone. He would never have allowed anyone to get this close unless he knew them.”

“And trusted them,” said Penny. “I mean he would never have let Ishmael or me get that close, would he?”

“Bax never trusted anyone,” said Redd. “He had . . . issues. And he’d never have let Parker get anywhere near him, dead or alive.”

He kissed Baxter on the forehead and laid him gently down on the floor. He got to his feet. He wasn’t crying. His face was cold, set in harsh unforgiving lines.

“I’ll get him for you, Bax, I promise you. Whoever did this, I’ll find them. They won’t get away with this, whoever they are.”

“The only one of us not accounted for,” Penny said slowly, “is MacKay. Martin, where is MacKay right now?”

“Still upstairs,” said Martin. “Checking the last few rooms. But I’m telling you, it wasn’t MacKay I saw moving around. Someone else is locked inside the Lodge with us.”

“Just because you saw someone,” I said, “it doesn’t mean it was Parker. More likely it was Parker’s killer. And now Baxter’s. That could mean an intruder, or it could be one of us. You said it yourself, Martin, you haven’t seen this figure long enough to identify him.”

“I know who it wasn’t.”

“No you don’t,” I said.

“The man I saw was moving too quickly to be human,” said Martin. “I know you don’t want it to be ghosts or anything supernatural, but . . . Wait a minute! MacKay just emerged from the last room. He’s starting down the stairs to the entrance hall.”

I set off at a run, with Penny and Redd right behind me.


When we finally burst into the entrance hall, MacKay was standing at the foot of the stairs. He nodded coolly to us as we stumbled to a halt.

“Mr. Martin has already informed me as to the situation,” he said flatly. “I am sorry to hear that Mr. Baxter is dead. He seemed a very conscientious young man. I understand he was killed in a similar fashion to Mr. Parker?”

“Single stab in the heart, from the front,” I said. “The killer took the knife with him this time.”

“And you saw nothing of this, Mr. Martin?” said MacKay. “What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been busy!” said Martin. “A lot’s been happening!”

“That is no excuse,” said MacKay. “We will discuss this lapse in discipline at a later date.”

“You did it,” said Redd, stepping forward to fix MacKay with his cold eyes. “There wasn’t anyone else, so it had to be you. You killed my Bax!”

MacKay met his gaze steadily. “Talk sense, man. I was upstairs until right this moment. Mr. Martin can confirm that.”

“Well, no. Actually, I can’t,” said Martin. “I did see you there, but not all of the time. I’ve been having problems with my cameras.”

MacKay sighed, but didn’t take his eyes off Redd. “What reason could I possibly have to kill Mr. Baxter? We were on the same side.”

“Were we?” said Redd.

“I did see MacKay upstairs,” said Martin.

“But not all the time,” I said. “A lot of things have been going on that you haven’t been allowed to see. Because someone has taken control of your systems.”

“No!” he said. “I’d know.”

“You know now,” I said.

Redd threw himself at MacKay. The older man didn’t fall back a single step. He met Redd squarely, grabbed his outstretched arm and swung him around, then held him helpless in a vicious armlock. Redd struggled, fighting MacKay with all his strength, but couldn’t break the hold. MacKay, his face grim, piled on the pressure; until Redd’s face went white from the pain.

“Stop fighting me, Mr. Redd,” MacKay said sternly. “I will break your arm if that is what it takes to restore discipline.”

Redd threw his whole weight against the hold, even though the pain must have been unbearable, but he still couldn’t break free. MacKay piled on the pressure almost to breaking point before Redd suddenly ran out of strength and gave up. He stood still, his head hanging down. Sweat dripped off his face. MacKay let him go and stepped back, watching Redd carefully. Redd hugged his arm to him, and wouldn’t look at any of us.

“Show me Mr. Baxter’s body,” said MacKay.


But when we got back to the corridor, the body was gone. As though he’d just got up and walked away . . . I had to get down on my hands and knees to find the impression in the carpet that showed a body had been there. Redd watched me do it. MacKay raised his voice.

“Mr. Martin? What happened here?”

“I don’t know,” said Martin’s voice. He sounded almost on the edge of tears, from sheer frustration. “I was watching you on the screens to make sure you were safe, not the body. Wait a minute, just . . . let me check the recordings. Oh hell, I don’t believe it! All the cameras in your area shut themselves down for a while.”

“Your systems have been seriously compromised,” I said. “Someone is turning them on and off at will.”

“Unless Parker took the body,” said Martin. He laughed for longer than was comfortable, and there was more than a touch of hysteria in it. “A dead man . . . took a dead man for a walk!”

“OK,” said Penny. “Someone needs a break . . .”

“But what if the ghosts killed Baxter, and then took the body?” said Martin, his voice rising.

“Mr. Martin!” said MacKay. “Get a grip on yourself, right now. You are talking nonsense.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been seeing,” said Martin. “All kinds of weird things! You’ve seen and heard strange things too, just recently. You know you have!”

“That is no reason to lose your reason,” said MacKay. “We will deal with whatever is happening in a calm and disciplined manner.”

“Where’s Bax?” Redd said suddenly. “I want my Bax!”

And he went running off down the corridor, ignoring the rest of us as we called after him, and quickly disappeared from sight.

“A very disturbed young man,” said MacKay.

“I told you not to split up the group,” I said. “This is what happens when you go off on your own. You get picked off. We need to get back to the lounge, join up with Hayley and Doyle, and then barricade ourselves in. Wait for the reinforcements to arrive.”

“I believe you are right, Mr. Jones,” MacKay said wearily. “I fear I no longer understand what is going on in my Lodge.”


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Framed