Ghostfinders 01 - Ghost of a Chance

MacAbre. Because those who weren’t had a disturbing tendency to disappear. Sometimes right in front of people.
    At the briefing, Natasha and Erik had sat stiffly to attention on hard-backed chairs, while Vivienne gave them the terms of their mission in her usual calm and subtly chilling voice. Apparently something important was happening down in Oxford Circus Tube Station, and the Crowley Project wanted it. Whatever it was. So Natasha and Erik were tasked with the destruction of JC and his team and the retrieval of anything of interest the team might have uncovered. Both Natasha and Erik got the distinct impression there was rather more to the situation than that; but they knew better than to ask questions. The Crowley Project operated on a very strict Need To Know basis. And as Natasha said to Erik afterwards, safely outside Vivienne MacAbre’s office, whatever was going on at Oxford Circus, it couldn’t be that important, or the Carnacki Institute would have sent one of their A teams. JC and his people were good, but they barely qualified as a B team.
    Natasha and Erik stood at the top of the unmoving escalator, considering the still-life scene before them. The intensity of the silence and the stillness intrigued them. They looked at each other. Natasha smiled suddenly at Erik.
    “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours. What marvellous toys did you bring with you this time, you awful little man?”
    Erik smiled smugly in return and fished in the bulging pockets of his jacket. He avoided Natasha’s eyes. Moments like this were the nearest they ever got to a real relationship, and they made him nervous. He produced with a flourish a 375 Magnum pistol so big it shouldn’t even have fitted into his pocket. He considered trying the famous monologue from Dirty Harry but knew he didn’t have the voice to bring it off successfully.
    “How typical,” Natasha murmured sweetly. “A big gun for a small man. It’s all about compensation, you know.”
    “How typical of a woman,” countered Erik, “to think it’s always about size.”
    He put the Magnum away and produced from his other pocket a piece of yellowed bone, barely three inches long. Carved deep into the bone were strange, curving patterns that seemed to seethe and swirl if you looked at them long enough.
    “Aboriginal pointing bone,” said Erik proudly. “And not just any bone—carved from the thigh-bone of the great naval explorer and map-maker, Captain Cook himself. Soaked for three years in the semen of a dozen hanged men, the first transported convicts to be hanged in Australia. I could point this at an elephant, and it would drop dead on the spot.”
    “They don’t have elephants in the London Underground,” said Natasha, crushingly.
    “They might have,” said Erik. “You don’t know. You never travel on the Tube.”
    The next object out of his pockets was a flat metal box with two steel horns protruding. Natasha looked at it, then at Erik.
    “Taser,” he said proudly. “Of my own design. Press the button, and this little box will produce actual lightning bolts. If my pointing bone doesn’t finish off the elephant, I can fry it with this.”
    “What is this sudden obsession with elephants?” said Natasha. “It’s not more compensation, is it?”
    Erik didn’t deign to answer. The last object out of his pockets was a simple monocle. He showed it to Natasha but made no attempt actually to screw it into his eye.
    “This specially treated lens can see through all illusions and reveal hidden traps. It can also show what’s happening in deepest dark and brightest light. It can even, theoretically, reveal the true nature of any given object or person though I haven’t actually tested that function under field conditions, as yet.” He considered Natasha thoughtfully. “What would I see, I wonder, if I were to look at you through this marvellous monocle, Natasha dear?”
    “Don’t even think about it,” said Natasha. “Now, my turn.”
    She started off by pulling two heavy punch daggers from the tops of her tall pink leather boots. The wide leaf-shaped blades had long oval holes in their centres.
    “So when you thrust the blades deep into someone’s body, bits of their organs or intestines will fall through the holes and be trapped there,” Natasha explained. “When you pull the blades out again, the trapped body parts are pulled out with them. Note also the serrated edges, so the blades can cut through bone. I’ve