Ghostbusters The Return (13 page)

CHAPTER 12

It was a little past ten-thirty in the morning when the call came in over the radio.

"Delta-six requesting assistance! Over!"

"Roger, Delta-six," said the dispatcher. "What's your twenty?"

"Five-seven-two Fifth Avenue! Ground floor, in the sporting goods store! We've got a - Watch out!" There was the sound of a scream, followed imrnediately by breaking glass.

"Delta-six, are you all right? Over."

"I'm here. We're in need of immediate back-up! Over!"

"Delta-six, what's your situation? Over."

"We've got a ten... a ten... Aah, forget the numbers! There ain't no numbers for this! Just send the Ghostbusters - fast!"

"Negative, Delta-six. All requests for supernatural assistance are to be routed through the Mayor's office to Goodraven. Are you in need of supernatural assistance? Over."

"Whatever! Just get someone here, now! Before these spooks kill somebody!"

Ray had already dropped the scroll he'd been reading. He raced across the parking bay to the Ectomobile and had the engine running before Egon even finished climbing into the car. But before they pulled out, Ray stuck his head out the window to call to Janine and Louis, who were still seated at a table, surrounded bv books.

"Keep an ear on the police scanner," he said. "If anything else comes up, call us."

"Right," said Janine.

The scanner had been Egon's idea. They'd never needed one before. After all, the police had always called them directly when they had a problem that fell outside the jurisdiction of the living. Actually, more often than not, the Ghostbusters received panicked calls from victims before the police even knew what was going on.

Now that Goodraven was in the picture, though, the Ghostbusters realized that the police wouldn't be calling anymore. That meant there was a good chance they wouldn't know about spectral events until it was too late. A trip to an electronics store and a swipe of a credit card were all that it took to fix that. ("If only all of our problems could be fixed this easily," Ray had remarked.)

Ray started to back up out of the parking bay. As the car moved, Egon held his door open and leaned out. "And remember," he called, "If any further apparitions manifest here... "

"Spray them with wraith repellent, get out of the building, and call you," said Janine.

Egon slammed the door just as the Ectomobile pulled out of the building. The car peeled away with lights and sirens blaring like the Fourth of July.

Louis looked around furtively and sprayed some wraith repellent back over his shoulder, just in case.

No sooner had Ray and Egon left than the phone started ringing. Several of the lights on Janine's phone lit up, indicating that a number of people were calling at the same time.

Janine had worked for the Ghostbusters long enough to know what to expect. Whenever a ghost did something in a public place, they invariably got calls from various bystanders who wanted to report it. The numbers of calls had risen over the years as cell phones increased in popularity and more people started carrying them around. Unfortunately, though, the callers almost never wanted to pay for the Ghostbusters' services; they simply assumed it was a city-funded organization like the fire or sanitation departments. rather than a private business. They were just reporting the incidents as good citizens or - more often - because they were in fear for their lives.

If some of them were willing to cough up some cash,
Janine thought,
I might get paid on time one of these days.

She picked up the book she'd been checking and carried it over to her desk. She continued to skim the pages as she took the calls.

"Ghostbusters," she said to the first caller. "Yes, we already heard. A team is on the way. Thank you."

One by one, she hit the button for each of the lines on the phone. She spoke absently into the phone as she continued to skim through the book. "Ghostbusters. If this is about Fifth Avenue, they're on their way. Thank you." Click. "Ghostbusters. If this is about Fifth Avenue, they're on their way. Thank you." Click. "Ghostbusters. If this is about Fifth Avenue, they're on their way. Thank you."

It took a few minutes for the phone calls to subside. By the time they did, Janine had made it through several more pages of the book. But when she turned the next page, her eyes widened with interest. Hanging up the phone, she read more carefully. "Say, here's something," she said. She brought the book back over to show Louis.

"It isn't another article about tantric sex, is it?" Louis asked.

"No," she said. "Look at this... "

"Look at that, Oscar," said Dana. "Look - Dinosaurs!"

"Dinosaws!"

"That's right, dinosaurs. Those are skeletons from real dinosaurs."

"Dinosaws! Dinosaws!"

The two of them had just walked in the main entrance of the Museum of Natural History, and already Oscar's grin reached from ear to ear. Dana suspected it had more than a little to do with the diorama constructed from full-scale replicas of dinosaur skeletons which towered above the visitors in the museum lobby.

To be honest, Dana had to admit that she was a little awed by the skeletons herself. The largest was a long-necked dinosaur that had to measure at least sixty feet from its nose to its tail. It was rearing up on its hind legs, so that its head reached almost to an arched ceiling that, in any other building, would have been the ceiling of the floor above. A similar but much smaller dinosaur stood behind it. A third dinosaur, which appeared to be a different species than the other two, stood in front of the tall dinosaur, poised for an attack.

All in all, it looked as though the tail dinosaur was protecting its young against an attacking predator. Dana smiled,
I can identify,
she thought.

She led Oscar around the display to a corner where an admissions desk stood. She got on line and checked her watch. It was 10:48. Fortunately, the line was not very long.
Just enough time to show Oscar the dinosaurs, drop him off at day care, meet Peter for a quick lunch, and get to work in time for the Afternoon rehearsal,
she thought.

Oscar was pulling on one of the velvet ropes that had been set up to guide people who were waiting in line. Dana considered telling him to stop. but he was having fun, and he wasn't likely to knock over the heavy, metal posts between the ropes. Besides he wasn't trying to stick the velvet rope in his mouth - yet - so she decided to let him be.

As she waited to pay. Dana glanced over the free brochures that lined the front of the admissions desk. There was a general pamphlet and map for the museum as a whole, as well as more specific pamphlets about special exhibits, the planetarium attached to the museum, and so on. She decided to take one of each and pass them on to Venkman. Not to badger him (although he'd probably assume that was her intent), but so that he'd have the information handy whenever he did get the chance to take Oscar.

Then, on second thought, she took two copies of each - one copy to give to Venkman, and one to save for the day when he inevitably lost the first one. Their little talk about responsibility seemed to have made a difference, but she wasn't expecting miracles overnight.

"Can I help you?" said a young woman behind the desk.

Dana gently detached Oscar from the velvet rope and moved him to one that was closer to the desk. She stepped up to the desk. "Hi. One adult and one two-year-old."

"Would you like to visit the planetarium or watch an IMAX movie?"

Dana tried to picture Oscar sitting through an IMAX movie or planetarium show. "No, thanks. Just the museum."

"Okay, then. Our suggested donation for basic admission is twelve dollars for adults and seven dollars for children two and older."

Dana thought about it for a minute. The Suggested donations seemed kind of steep for what was essentially going to be an hour with her two-year-old. She wondered how many people paid what they suggested, and how many made considerably smaller suggestions of their own. But then again, the museum was a good cause, and how often did she visit?

She took a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it across the desk. In return, the young woman gave Dana one dollar in change and two small badges that bore the museum's logo. Dana attached one to her blouse and the other to Oscar's shirt.

"Oh," she said, "Can you tell me where we can find the dinosaurs?"

"Upstairs on the fourth floor," said the young woman. "Enjoy your visit."

"Thanks. I'm sure we will," said Dana. She turned to Oscar and pried the velvet rope out of his grip just as he was pulling it toward his mouth. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go see some dinosaurs."

All in all, Venkman would rather have been looking at dinosaurs.

Come to think of it, there were
many
things he'd rather have been doing. Reclining in his mansion while counting his vast personal fortune was fairly close to the top of the list. So was nude shuffleboard with a quartet of international supermodels. But even if you skipped over the top of the list, plenty of other options sprang to mind, ranging all the way down to paying taxes and battling the hordes of the undead. He'd rather have been doing either of those, too.

Because as bad as any of those things might be, at least they didn't make him feel like an idiot.

"...And that's why I hope you'll let me serve you as the next mayor of this incredible city," he said. "Together, we can carry New York City forward, to build a better and brighter future for all of us."

"Good," said Ted Golden. As the public relations person for the campaign, Golden and campaign manager John Fielding were the ones pretending to be reporters and peppering Venkman with tough questions. "Let's just go over a couple of points."

"Let me guess. You want to shower me with lavish praise?" said Venkman.

"The lavish praise will come after the debate," Fielding replied. "For now, I have a couple of corrections to make on some of your answers."

"And I've got a few suggestions for presentation," added Golden.

Venkrnan supposed the practice session for the debate was going well enough. Over the past week or so, he'd spent countless hours getting briefed on the issues - even if you only counted the hours when he'd been awake and paving attention. And he'd always been good at thinking on his feet and bluffing his way out of tricky corners. All of the same skills were likely to serve him well during the debate.

But the fact remained that. of everyone in the room, he was probably the least experienced and the least knowledgeable about politics or the issues. That included Winston, who was sitting off to the side, enjoying the show... and probably even included the janitor who was standing in the corner, emptying a wastebasket. Venkman just hoped that his ignorance and discomfort wouldn't show too much during the real debate.

"... and watch out for saying 'can' - 'we
can
do this,' 'we
can
carry the city forward,"' Golden was saying. "You need to sound more definitive: 'We
will
do this,' 'we
will
carry the city forward.'"

"Okay," said Venkman. "I
can
remember that, and I
will
be taking a break now." He walked over to the far end of the room and collapsed into the chair next to Winston's.

"Looking good, Peter," said Winston.

Venkman leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "You think so?"

"Uh-huh. If I didn't know you, I'd never suspect that you have no clue what you're talking about."

Venkman chuckled. "Thanks a bunch."

"No problem."

"Y'know, you're welcome to do the debate instead of me, if you want."

"That's a tempting offer, but I don't think it would go over real well. This is a mayoral debate, not a 'mayoral debate plus one candidate for deputy mayor.'" Winston grinned. "Unless you want to trade jobs, that is."

Venkrnan opened one eye and returned the grin. "I'll think about it."

"You're going to be fine tomorrow."

"Who, me? Yeah, I'll rock. They'll probably carve my face onto Mount Rushmore. Replace Jefferson or Bush or whoever it is up there. Nobody remembers any of them besides Washington and Lincoln anyway."

"No, really. Look, you'll be wearing that earphone thing for Ted to prompt you if you get stuck. But that's not going to happen. You're Mister Smooth. No one's going to be able to pin you down." 

"That's
Doctor
Smooth to you. But thanks."

Fielding ambled over to the two candidates and handed Venkman a paper cup of water. "We have enough time for one more round before lunch. You ready?"

Slowly, Venkman rose to his feet and stretched. "Sure. Doctor Smooth is in the house."

"'Doctor Smooth?'"

Venkman's only reply was a smirk. He draped an arm around Fielding and started the walk back to the podium. "Hey, by the way, how are you guys doing with digging up dirt on that Goodraven guy?"

"No dirt yet," said Fielding. "In fact, so far, we haven't found any information at all, but we're still looking We should have something in time for the debate tomorrow."   

"I hope so," said Venkman. "Wouldn't it be a kick in the pants if he was clean?"

Whatever else it might have been, the Ghostbusters' arrival wasn't subtle. The Ectomobile's siren echoed for blocks as it roared up the street toward the sporting goods store, and its tires squealed as it screeched to a halt behind the police cars that had converged on the scene. Ray and Egon started to assess the situation before they even got out of the car. 

From outside the building, it wasn't immediately obvious that anything supernatural was going on, but it was clear that something was wrong. Half a dozen police officers were watching the store with guns drawn, taking cover behind anything that presented itself: mailboxes, bus stop shelters, their own cars. The windows and doors of the store were riddled with holes. Some were large and jagged, where parts of the windows had shattered. Others were round and about an inch or two in diameter, with cracks in the glass that radiated from the holes in spiderweb patterns. To Ray and Egon, the holes looked too big to be from bullets, but then again, conventional weapons weren't exactly their area of expertise.