Ghostbusters The Return (12 page)

"Spud?'

Winston translated. "He means Goodraven."

"Ah. Well, naturally, we couldn't assemble too specific a plan before we knew whom the Mayor might appoint. But we do have a more general strategy in place. Now that we know that Goodraven is the one, we can run a thorough check on his background."

"You mean 'dig up dirt,'" said Venkman.

"If you prefer. Once we have that information in hand, we should be able to discredit him and cut the Mayor's support out from under him again."

"But what if there isn't enough dirt on Goodraven?" asked Winston.

Milken gave him a patronizing smile. "There's enough dirt on
everyone."

As the fiend swung its heavy axe, Louis instinctively recoiled, only to trip over his own feet. He fell backwards, hitting the floor as the axe sailed over him and smashed through the front of a file cabinet.

"Louis!" screamed Janine.

Frantically, Louis tried to scramble away while the fiend struggled to pull the axe free of the cabinet. But, from his position sprawled out on his back, Louis couldn't move more than a couple of inches before the fiend ripped out the axe and raised it high over his head.

"Have you... checlced... the children?"

In the split-second before the axe could come down to complete its deadly arc, Ray and Egon burst through the front door like the cavalry on the attack. In a flash, they took in the scene and raced into action.

"I'll get him!" Ray shouted to Egon. "You take El Diablo!"

"Right!" said Egon.

The next thing Louis and Janine knew, a blinding pair of ion streams tore across the room to bind the two spectres. The fiend tried to free itself by slashing at the beam with the axe, but to no avail. Ray wrapped the stream around him, pinning his arms to his sides. The fiend and the devil howled in anger.

As one, Ray and Egon leaned back, hoisting the murderous, roaring spirits into the air. "Okay!" Ray called, shouting to be heard over the din. "Now we just have to get them in the trap!"

"Right!" Egon called back. "Where is it?"

Ray shot Egon a concerned glance before focusing his attention back on restraining the fiend. "Didn't you bring one in with us?"

"I thought you brought it!"

Without an ecto-trap, they'd have to stand there, holding the ghosts. But the instant one of them went to get a trap, one of the ghosts would be free.

"Janine!" called Egon. "Hurry! Go get us a trap!"

"How?" she called back. Although the devil was restrained, she was still surrounded by his flaming pit.

"Louis!" Ray said. "You've got to do it! Go get a trap!"

"Okay!" Louis replied. "Where are they?"

"In the back! In the first cabinet!"

"Gotcha!"

Louis started to run back behind the office area, but stopped after a couple of steps. "The first one on the right or the left?"

Ray thought for a second. "The right!"

"The big gray one?"

"No, the black one!"

"Never mind!" shouted Egon. just go outside and get one from the car!"

"Gotcha!"

"One that
isn't
smoking!" added Ray. 

"Okay!"

Louis ran past them and was halfway down the parking bay when he stopped and turned back toward them. "I don't have the keys!"

It was getting harder to hold the writhing ghosts. They couldn't pull free, but their struggling was jerking the ion beams around, making it difficult to keep them steady. Ray's beam grazed a fluorescent light that was hanging on the ceiling, and the bulb exploded.

"It's not locked!" Egon shouted to Louis.

"In New York City? You know, that really isn't safe... "

"GET THE TRAP!"
they screamed.

"Gotcha!"

As the seconds ticked by, it felt like Louis was gone for an eternity. But before long, he ran back into the headquarters with a trap in his hands. "Here it is!"

"Great!" said Ray. "Lay it down on the floor over there, and then stomp on the pedal!"

Louis did as he was told. Instantly, an inverted pyramid of light shot up out of the trap. In a matter of moments, the ghosts were gone, the trap snapped shut, and the axe fell to the floor with a metallic
clang.

Once the ghosts disappeared into the trap, the fiery pit around Janine vanished, reverting back Into the building's usual floor. Gingerlv. she tested the floor with her toe to make sure it was solid. Then. once she was reasonably sure that it was, she ran over to Louis. The two of them threw their arms around each other.

As they shut down the power on their proton packs, Ray wiped the sweat off his brow and Egon breathed a sigh of relief.

"You were right," said Egon. "That urban legend is a bad one."

"Someone's raising the stakes. Just be glad we got here in time."

Egon stood over Ray, watching as Ray crouched down to collect the trap. Neither of them saw the ghost of the old lady that drifted noiselessly behind them, high above the floor. After all, neither of them knew that there had also been a third ghost - not until a moment later. when the old lady soared down, grabbed the fallen axe, and charged at them, screaming,
"DIE! DIE FOR XANTHADOR!"

Simultaneously, Ray and Egon grabbed for their nutrona wands.

The axe whistled through the air as the old lady swung it around in a roundhouse arc. The swing could have taken off both of their heads in a single blow - that is, if it wasn't for the timely arrival of a fighting-mad Slimer. He looked battered, bruised, blackened...  and really, really irate. He zoomed through the air at breathtaking speed to bodyslarn the old lady with his considerable bulk before she could complete her deadly swing.

The impact sent the old lady tumbling head over heels through the air. It took almost the entire length of the building for her to recover and come around for a second try.

This time, though, the Ghostbusters were ready. Ray waited until she was committed to her charge and too close to change course. He stamped on the pedal of the ecto-trap. The old lady soared straight into the light and vanished before the trap snapped shut. Once again, the only remaining trace was the axe that fell to the floor.

Usually, saving the day brought a rush of triumph and joy, because of both the victory and the simple fact of survival - but not this time. This one had been a little too close. Everyone stared grimly at the smoking trap.

Ray gave Slirner a high five. "Thanks, buddy."

Slimer muttered some gibberish in reply.

Egon gazed at everyone in the room. "Now, before we make further assumptions, are there any more ghosts besides these three?"

Janine, Louis, and Slimer shook their heads.

"Good," said Ray. To Egon, he added, "'Xanthador' again."

"But it's not 'Cower before Xanthador' anymore," Egon replied.

"Nope. Now it's 'Die.' And this one was intended specifically for us."

"Agreed. The odds against this being a coincidence are astronomical. Still, it seems like a lot of effort for a small target. Why would they bother?"

"I guess because we've been fighting against them."

Egon nodded, digesting the point. "If that's true, I'd say Jonathan Goodraven chose a bad time to move to New York."

You know what?" said Ray. "Forget Goodraven. Forget the whole competition thing. We've just got to get these guys, once and for all."

"What changed your mind?"

"They just made it personal."

CHAPTER 11

Venkman sat in the back of the black limousine and stared out the window. Outside, bright neon lights of every color were beginning their daily battle against the gathering darkness that came with evening.

The limo's progress was slow, thanks to the rush hour traffic, which was in full swing. The fact that the midtown streets were clogged with cars, buses, and assorted vehicles was bad enough, but teeming masses of pedestrians were also crossing the streets on their way home sometimes obeying the stop lights, sometimes not - which brought traffic to a virtual standstill. When you put it all together, it was no wonder that Venkman's limo was inching along. With luck, it managed to move a car length or two during each green signal, before the light cycled back to red and the long line of cars in front of the limo sat still once again.

This was going to take a while - not that Venlunan gave any sign of noticing. He stared blankly past the signs and crowds, lost in thought.

"Hey," said a quiet voice beside him. "Penny for your thoughts."

It took a second for the words to penetrate, but then he turned with a smile. "You'd be overpaying."

"You were really off in your own world there," said Dana. "What were you thinking about?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Nobody goes that quiet and spends that much time staring into space without thinking about something."

"No? How about coma patients?"

"Fine.
You
don't go that quiet and spend that much time staring into space without thinking about something."

Venkman gestured dismissively. "Aah, it was nothing. Just guy stuff. Y'know - football, scratching, that kind of thing."

"Mmm."

"Hey, did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?"

Dana smiled. "All right, I get it. You don't want to talk about it."

In fact, despite Venkman's obvious attempt to change the subject, he really did mean the compliment. Since they were creeping along toward a blacktie dinner at the Museum of Modern Art (or MOMA, as it was more popularly known to the locals), both of them were looking their best. Venkman wore an overcoat over a simple but stylish black tuxedo. Dana was wearing a short black jacket over a shimmering black evening gown that was cut low both in front and in back.

The dinner was a fundraiser to benefit a new gallery for the museum. Venkman knew nothing about modern art, but he was scheduled to deliver a supportive speech over dinner. Given the dinner's thousand-dollar-a-plate price tag - and Mayor Lapinski's legendary talent for cutting funds for the arts - it was a perfect opportunity for him to connect with an audience that was both powerful and sympathetic. All in all, the evening promised to be a slam dunk. He'd have them eating out of his hand by the time they brought around the coffee.

What was equally important, from Venkrnan's perspective, was the fact that he was allowed to bring a date. Dana loved art. After Oscar was born, she'd even worked part-time restoring antique paintings while she was on maternity leave from the Symphony. It had been ages since she had been to the Metropolitan Museum of Art; somehow, she couldn't bring herself to go back to the Met after the ghost of a Carpathian dictator tried to steal her baby there. But MOMA was no problem. MOMA was a very different art museum with a very different sort of collection, but it provided a good alternative. Venkman was glad for the opportunity to impress her with a fancy dinner for a change - especially if it was in a place that she liked.

Besides, what with the election, the Ghostbusters, and Dana, it was getting harder and harder for Venkman to juggle all of the many demands on his time. It seemed as though everyone wanted something from him these days - each time he tried to give some attention to one part of his life, it meant letting the others drop. At least the chance to campaign and go on a date simultaneously meant that he could tend to two sides of his life at the same time. It was a real blessing.

Or it would be, if he could pull himself out of the funk that he'd been in all afternoon.

"You're doing it again," Dana said.

Venkman shook himself from his reverie. "No, I'm listening to you. Really. Every word."

Dana looked amused. "That's funny. I didn't say anything."

Venkman only hesitated for an instant. "You see? That's how much I pay attention to you. I start listening before you even start talking."

Dana tossed her head back and chuckled in amazement. "You're really just totally shameless, aren't you?"

"Who, me?" he said, putting on an expression of complete innocence. "I prefer to think of it as 'endearing.'"

She sat up and laid her hand on his. "You know, if you tell me what's bothering you, I'll listen. I might even be able to help."

Venkman studied her for a minute. Dana really did want to help him, and it was yet another reason why he lov - well, it meant a lot to him, anyway. But what could he say? That his life was getting too complicated? That people were expecting too much from him? That he was being stretched in a million directions, and he just couldn't be everything for everyone? There wasn't a whole lot that Dana could do about any of that, other than offering to drop out of his life herself. And that was the last thing he'd ever want her to do. It would be too high a price to pay.

No, it was better to say nothing at all. He'd figure out a way to deal with it all and keep everybody happy.
Besides,
he thought,
it's not like this is going to go on forever.
Once the campaign was over and he was in office, everything would be better. He could hire the Ghostbusters back - at a substantial increase in pay, to make up for their troubles. In fact, he could give himself a big raise too, to make up for his own troubles. And with a staff in place to handle his work for him, he'd be able to spend more time with Dana. All he had to do was weather the next couple of months of campaigning, and then life would go back to normal.

"Peter?"

He sighed. "It's nothing. Really. Look, I just had this stupid fight with Ray today."

"With Ray? What about?"

"Something stupid. It doesn't matter. The point is, I tried to lay it on him, but it was really all my fault. So I'm feeling like kind of an idiot right now."

He could see Dana's body relax, relieved that it wasn't anything more serious. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "He's your best friend, Peter. He'll forgive you."

"Yeah, I know. I'll call him tomorrow."

She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You're a good friend."

He responded by leaning in as well, and kissing her lightly on the lips. "Thanks."

They kept their faces close together for a moment, exchanging smiles and silent gazes. Venkman felt so much for this woman who cared so much for him. There had to be something he could do to show her that he felt the same way...

They kissed lightly one more time and settled back into their seats, still holding hands.

"So I was thinking. . ." he said. "In a couple of weeks, when I get over the initial hump on this campaign thing, maybe I can finally take Butch to the Museum of Natural History to see those dinosaurs."

Dana raised a hand. "Let's not start that again."

"No, I mean it. I know I let you guys down on that one, and I want to make up for it."

"Peter, you're never going to have time to take Oscar to the museum while you're running for Mayor."

"No sweat. I'll work it out. Besides, it'll be good for the campaign. It'll help bring in the dinosaur vote."

"Oh, really?"

"Sure. Most people don't realize it, but dinosaurs are a vital, underappreciated minority in New York."

Dana chuckled. "All right, how about this: I'll take Oscar to see some of the dinosaur skeletons tomorrow. He'll be happy, and it'll take the pressure off. Then, whenever your schedule permits, we can all go together to see the rest of them."

Venkman threw up his hands. "And she has brains, too!"

"You're only just realizing that now?"

"No, of course not," he said, sliding over to put his arms around her. "From the first moment I saw you, that was what attracted me. Your brains."

"Really."

"Absolutely. Your gorgeous..." He kissed her. "...gorgeous..." He kissed her again. "...brains." He kissed her a third time.

They spent the better part of a block that way, until the MOMA building finally came into view. Reluctantly, they had to separate at that point, so that they could touch up their appearance and look presentable when they arrived.

As they fixed their hair and straightened their clothes, she caught his eye. "Feeling better?" she asked.

"After that Oh, yeah."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," he said. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Good. Listen, thanks for telling me what was going on between you and Ray. I know it's not easy for you to talk honestly about your feelings. But I'm glad you did."

"Yeah," said Venkman. "Me, too."

Egon just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. Slowly, the parchment began to slip from his fingers. His head began to droop and fall forward, until he caught himself and woke with a start.

He shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and looked quickly around at his surroundings to orient himself. 

He saw the familiar office area, the piles of ancient books stacked on the table, and Ray paging through yet another volume at the far side of the table.

Oh, right,
he thought.

With a yawn, Egon rolled up his sleeve to check his watch. It read three-sixteen A.M.

He turned his attention back to the Egyptian scroll in front of him. He opened his eyes wide, gave his head another shake, and tried to go back to searching through the hieroglyphics for some mention of Xanthador.

Ordinarily, he wasn't bad at deciphering the ancient symbols. Back in college, he once translated sixteen dirty limericks into hieroglyphics as a favor to his childhood friend, Peter Venkman, so that Venkman could write them on bathroom walls. At the moment, though, Egon's sleep-starved brain was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. His thoughts kept drifting away.

Eye, scarab, water, ibis, walking man. . .
he thought.

Eye, ibis, water...

Eye before ibis except after sea...

A scarab and an ibis walk into a man...

He woke again with a jolt and checked his watch. Three-twenty.

"Ray, let's call it a night," he said.

"Just a little longer," Ray said.

"It's almost three-thirty."

"It is?"

"Yes."

Ray thought about it for a second, then went back to his book. "We've got to nail this thing."

"I agree. But I can't stay awake any longer, and you fell off your chair half an hour ago."

"That was just a touch of vertigo."

"Due to the remarkable height of your chair, I assume," Egon replied dryly. "I admire your dedication, but we're no good to anyone like this. Let's pick up again In the morning."

"The sooner we find something on Xanthador, the sooner we can put an end to all of this."

"Yes, but operating at a diminished capacity isn't going to help. We'll come back to it in the morning. Janine and Louis can keep checking the English-language sources, too."

"What if there's another attack by then? Someone could die."

"And it will be you. You won't be able to save anyone if you don't get a few hours of sleep first. Or do you think it's a good idea to operate a proton pack when you're semi-conscious?"

Ray started to say something in response, but stopped himself. "Okay," he said. "You win. But just a few hours."

"Fine."

Ray placed a bookmark inside the book he was reading and closed the cover. "You want to crash upstairs? Your old bed's open."

"That sounds good."

The two of them walked around the room, turning off lights and trying not to stumble over their own tired feet. But when Egon went to turn off the lamp on Janine's desk, he noticed something.

"Did you leave the phone off the hook?" Egon asked.

"Not as far as I know. Maybe it got knocked over while we were dealing with the ghosts."

Egon picked up the fallen receiver and held it to his ear. An electronic voice on the other end was saying,
Ling xiang de shihon, shijian shi...

With a puzzled look. Egon said, "It's a recording. It sounds like...Chinese?"

"Chinese?"

"I think so."

Ray groaned. "Giving the correct time, right?"

"Could be. Did you call?"

Ray shook his head. "Urban legend. A woman gets even with her ex after a messy break-up by using his phone... "

"To dial the phone number for the correct time in China?"

Ray nodded. "It's bad enough that they tried to kill us. But they wanted to drive up our phone bill, too."