Paranormal - No Title Yet

Chapter One





Carla Warwick pulled on an over-sized sweater and walked through to the kitchen.  She flicked on the kettle, took a large mug from the cupboard and added three heaped teaspoons of drinking chocolate.  Yawning, she finished preparing her drink and padded into the living room.  She kicked of her shoes and scrunched her toes into the thick woollen rug as she lowered herself into her favourite armchair.  She pulled the sleeves of her sweater down so that they almost completely covered her hands. Wrapping her fingers around the warmth of the mug she took a sip, let her head fall back and closed her eyes.

It had been a very long day.  She had left early for her walk to work this morning taking a longer route so that she could stop and lay flowers at the graves of her husband and son.  Michael and Sam were killed in a car accident five years ago today.  Michael had been older than her, in his early thirties and Sam had been just two years old.  The loss had nearly destroyed her.  She had come close to taking her own life to stop the pain.  She had no-one close that she could turn to for support and she had started drinking.



That was when it had started.  She began hearing voices in her head, quiet whispers with no real meaning.  She also started dreaming.  Everyone dreams but this was different.  The dreams were vivid and real.  The people in her dreams were real people.  The girl on the checkout at the supermarket or the guy walking has dog on Sunday afternoons.

Then she had begun dreaming about Michael and Sam.  When they came the dreams would always be different.  Sometimes she would dream that she was watching them together and sometimes she would interact with them in her dreams.  The strange thing about the dreams was that they were not upsetting.  When she dreamt about Michael and Sam she would wake up feeling comforted like the dreams were wrapping her in a blanket.

After a few weeks of the dreams about Michael and Sam she realised that she would only dream about them when she had not been drinking.  Almost as quickly as she had started she stopped.  She had turned to alcohol for comfort and now she was finding it in her dreams.

The voices continued to present themselves when she was alone and quiet.  It was like standing in a busy restaurant, many voices talking but none that she could pick out or understand.  Then, one night about six months after the accident, she had been sitting in her living room.  She remembered that night well.  The rain had been falling hard and the wind was making a whistling sound through the trees that lined the street.  The voices she heard had come back as normal but it did not frighten her.  The voices were like static white noise, a radio tuned off station.  Then, all of a sudden, it was like someone had twisted the dial.  The white noise of the busy restaurant was replaced by a deafening silence.  The radio had been tuned in and she was listening to a silent station.  She could feel the energy of the silence.  It overwhelmed her and left her in awe.  She began to lose focus on her surroundings as this new silent energy overran her senses.

When the voice spoke it was as clear as a midsummer day.  It was her own voice but it was coming from somewhere else like someone was standing beside her.

“Don’t be sad mummy.  We are OK.  I love you and Daddy does too!”

And then it stopped.  The voices ceased and the energy was gone.



#



That had been four and a half years ago.  At the time she had though it was another dream but as time passed she increasingly felt that Sam was with her.  She could feel something that told her he was playing in the corner of the room or sleeping on sofa next to her.  She also felt Michael’s presence.  Nothing definite, just a feeling that she was being watched over.

As time went by the voices she heard became increasingly clear.  She would receive messages from Michael and from Sam.  She was never scared at any point but she was increasingly overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening to her.

Was she really receiving messages from her husband and son?

Was she really receiving messages from those who had passed away?

These questions had continued to impress themselves on her mind and, after searching the internet for information, she had decided to visit a Medium.

The lady she went to see was eccentric but she had come forward with some good advice and some accurate information.  The Medium she visited was presiding over the local Spiritualist Church and Carla had been along to one of their meetings.

She remembers being made to feel welcome by this friendly and supportive group.  Towards the end of the meeting the Medium, whose name was Madeline, had taken the floor to give readings.  She had come straight over to Carla and told her that she felt her loss.  She had been able to validate then names of both Sam and Michael and told her about the accident including the correct date the accident had occurred.  She had also told her than Michael and Sam were always with her and that she had no reason to afraid.

At the end of the meeting Carla asked Madeline if she could spare her a couple of minutes.  Carla told Madeline about the voices and the dreams and asked her opinion.

“You are hearing voices from Spirit my dear.  This is nothing to be afraid of.  I have been hearing them for over thirty years and they have never done me any harm.  You should consider this to be a gift and you should learn to take control of it.”

Madeline had placed her hand on Carla’s shoulder and looked her in the eye.  Carla remembered the depth on those eyes at that moment.

“Do not be afraid.” Madeline held out an old hardcover book.  The book was green with no title and nothing printed on the spine.

“Take this with you and read it.  It will answer many of the questions that you have and I know there are many.  Now, I must hurry along.  Love and light my dear!”

Carla had tried to get a contact number for Madeline and had tried to arrange a session with her.  Madeline had smiled a broad smile.

“I am so sorry my dear but I am afraid that will not be possible.  I would dearly love to help you find your path but time and tide will not wait and I have much to do!”

With that, Madeline had turned and left the building.

Madeline and Carla never spoke again.  Nine days after their meeting, at the age of seventy three, Madeline had passed away.  Carla never found out how she passed but she new that Madeline had been ready.

Carla had read the green book from cover to cover.  By now she must have read it five or six times.  Having no-one to return it to meant that it had found a place on her bookshelf.  Having no markings on the cover or any title had made it impossible to trace the author or the publisher.

The Green Book, which was her improvised and now quite affectionate title for it, had taught her many things.  It had taught her about spiritual energy and about how it is channelled.  It had taught her about meditation and about spirit guides.  It had taught her about the different types of medium and taught her how to control her gift.

Carla opened her eyes, lifted her head and took another sip of her hot chocolate.  Now, five years after her husband and son had passed she was moving forward with her life.  She was working part time at a travel agent in town and she had even begun to socialise and make friends.  She was also able to use her gift to help others.  She was reading for people who contacted her and charging a small amount for these readings.  She was more confident in here everyday life than she ever had been and time was proving to be a wonderful healer.  She has not forgotten about Michael and Sam.  She carries there love with her and it makes her strong.

Carla finished her drink and took herself off to bed.  She said goodnight to Michael and Sam while looking at a photo of them on the bedside cabinet and then slipped quickly into a deep and comfortable sleep.















Chapter Two





John Douglas was walking through the busy streets of London’s West End when his mobile phone rang.  He plucked it deftly from its purpose made pocket on the inside of his suit jacket.  He looked around, checked behind him and ducked into an alleyway between two buildings to take the call.

“Douglas!”  John always answered the phone with just his surname.

“Don needs to see you!  Billy’s place, one hour.”

The phone went dead.

John leant against the wall and placed his phone back in its pocket.  He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

What’s up with Donald now then?

Donald Fortelli was one of John’s customers but the service he provides is not the sort of thing you can look up in the local paper.  John is a fixer to the rich and infamous.  Should circumstances require his services he is on hand twenty four seven to make things happen.  The job requires John to be alert and on the ball, a skilled and diplomatic jack of all trades with the gift of the gab.  Often he would operate as a private detective.  Sometimes he would be asked to make arrangements for the dispensation of funds or the acquisition of goods.  Not all of this was legal.  In fact, very little of it was.  John didn’t do anything illegal himself but he would certainly have made the arrangements.  He was a self stylised middleman, a preserver of anonymity and protector of secrets.  Whatever you want, whenever you need it, John Douglas can make it happen.

Today’s phone call is Don’s usual routine.  Don liked to feel like he was some kind of well respected mafia boss but, in reality, Donald Fortelli is just a wealthy business man with a soft spot for hard drugs and fast girls.  John guessed that the reason for today’s meeting was that Don was throwing another one of his parties and needed John to ensure that the contraband substances were as free-flowing as the wine.

Billy’s?  Ahh yes.  Billy’s.

Billy runs a restaurant just south of the river that John could not quite remember the name of.  Taking that as the requested meeting place John walked back onto the street and hailed a cab.



#



John had the cab pull up opposite the restaurant and got out taking in the surroundings.  He had been here once before and the place hadn’t changed much.  John crossed the road and looked up at the sign on the front of the building.

Billy’s.  How original!

John walked in through the open door and propped himself up at the bar that ran along the right hand wall of the dimly lit restaurant.  The tables were bunched close together and décor was plain and unimaginative.  All but a few of the tables were empty and John wondered how the place ever made any money.

“What will it be, sir?”  The bar tender had appeared as if from nowhere.

John looked at his watch, a gold Rolex that he had bought as a birthday present for himself a couple of years ago, and saw that it was after seven in the evening.

“Whisky.  Plenty of ice!”  7pm was John’s alcohol watershed.  “Put it on Donald Fortelli’s tab.  I am sure that he won’t mind.  Can you also tell him that John is here!”

John stared into the glass as he swirled the whisky and ice around for a moment.  The bar tender walked to the end of the bar and made a short phone call.

What on earth am I doing here?  Why am I playing fetch for this loser?

John kicked back his drink, shook off the whisky burn and picked his way through the tables to a door at the back of the restaurant.  He stepped through into a small office with one too many filing cabinets and a large desk.  Behind the desk was Fortelli, sitting in a large leather chair and talking on the phone.

“I know.” Pause.  “Yes.  OK!”  Pause.  “Sure.  Yes.  I will.  No problem!”

As the phone went down John could not help but think that Don Fortelli was in trouble.  That had certainly sounded like grovelling.

“How’s business Don?  Are you keeping well?”  John failed to keep up his forced smile but Don did not notice.

“To be honest John, the shit is really hitting the fan!  And you know what happens then?  Eh...  Everyone gets covered in shit.  It doesn’t matter if you are involved or just passing through.  Either way you get caught up and it stinks!”

“Sounds nasty!  I am assuming that I am here to arrange some sort of...”  John smiled inwardly.  “Cleanup operation.”

“That is absolutely what I need.  Have I ever told you what my firm does?  How we make our money?”

“Not that I am aware of!”  John made a point of knowing as little as possible about his customers.  It was safer and easier.

“The firm is called InterSec.  We handle security, everything from doormen to surveillance equipment.  One of our most lucrative customers is a nightclub operator.  This guy, Jason Marsh, runs five or six nightclubs in London and the same again across Europe.”

“And you handle security at these clubs!”  John was already beginning to tire of the conversation.

John had already seen Marsh at work in one of his clubs.  He had been snooping around after one of his clients’ daughters had eloped with particularly unsavoury character.  Marsh had been personally overseeing the ejection of this individual through the service doors at the back of the building.  John had no idea what it was but Marsh had certainly made his point clear.  Had John, relieved that he had not been spotted during the violent exchange, not called an ambulance then the guy may well have died in that alleyway.

“Yes,” Don’s voice was quieter now.  “We handle security at the clubs.  The ones in London anyway!  We also supply and manage the security system at his home.  And this is where the problem is.  The clubs are fine but there had been an incident at the house.”

“What kind of incident?”  John was beginning to get curious.

“So...  Marsh and his wife, Anna, fly back to London after two weeks in Rio.  Everything looks fine and they let themselves in via their state-of-the-art security system.  They turn off the alarm, check the alerts box, switch on the lights and everything looks fine.  Then, and this is what is causing us grief, Marsh walks to the centre of the house on the ground floor and finds, as expected, that his private study is locked.  He uses his key and the electronic tag and pin number to open the door and walks in.  The room has been trashed, almost completely destroyed.  His files, books, paintings, everything has been trashed.”

Don slouches back into the chair, lights a cigarette and throws the box to John who does the same.

“So what does he do?” Don pauses to take a long drag from his cigarette.  “He phones me to ask why we didn’t notify him that he had been burgled.  Well.  You can guess how he reacted when I had no idea what he was going on about.  We have, as with many of our customers, a line that links to the house.  We receive encrypted streams from all of the CCTV cameras which we record on disk.  We also get status messages from all of the other systems in the house so that the alarm can be raised if anything happens or something breaks down.  None of this happened while he was away.  The link never went down and we have all of the CCTV footage.”

“I am assuming that the police have not been informed!”  John would not be here if they had.

“No.  Marsh, after he had calmed down a little, told me that he wanted this to be treated as a private matter and that he would deal with the perpetrator once their identity has been established.  I told him that we would go through the CCTV footage and see what happened and when.”

“So what did you find?”  John still had no idea why he was here.

“This was two days ago.  I haven’t told him anything yet.  The problem we have is that no-one entered or left the house during the two weeks.  I had an engineer their all day yesterday running tests and the systems are all functioning correctly.  Plus, the study is locked separately from the rest of the doors in the house and Marsh is the only person that knows the code.”  Don was beginning to look pale.

“Take a look at this...”  Don reached down beside him and pulled a laptop out if a case on the floor.  He tapped in a password, slid a disk into the side and twisted the laptop round to face John.

On screen there was a black and white picture, completely still, of Marsh’s study.  Books lined one wall on shelves all the way down the right hand side.  In the centre of the room was a large ornate desk.  On the wall at the back were two paintings and on the left were the door and several cabinets.

“This is the CCTV footage from Marsh’s study at 12:07am on the 9th February.”  Don got up and walked round the desk so that he could watch the footage as John did.

The image flickered on screen and then a blurry shape, like a transparent spinning disk floated across the screen.  Then again back in the opposite direction.  It started to move faster and the shape began to distort.  It moved out of shot and there was a brilliant flash and then blackness.  Beads of static fizzed silently up the screen and then the image returned after about twenty seconds.  The light fittings on the ceiling were swinging, the book shelves were on the floor, smashed onto pieces, books strewn everywhere.  The cabinets were still in place but all of the drawers were open and their contents were scattered around the room.  The chair behind the desk was upturned and the five spokes of the leg were spinning slowly.  The two painting were now nowhere to be seen.

Don stopped the playback, ejected the disk and shut the lid of the laptop.

“So?  What do you make of that?”  Don had slid back into his chair and was staring John sitting opposite him.

“I...”  John wasn’t used to being lost for words.  “I really don’t know.  That is pretty fucking weird!”

“Weird?  It scared the shit out of me.  I mean, what the fuck is going on there, eh?  Weird isn’t half of it.  The door never opened.  We have had the entire of the CCTV footage checked.  No-one went in or out of that room John, no-one!”

“Come on Don.  You don’t know that!  The tape stops for nearly twenty seconds before it comes back.  How do you know that someone didn’t go in a trash the place at that point?”  John was more than a little sceptical about what Don was saying.

“There is a camera down the hall that covers the outside of the same door.  That camera never lost the stream.  We have verified the timestamp on the footage two, even three times.  That door was never opened.”  Don was beginning to get agitated as if he was totally unsure of himself.  “You think I’m mad?”

“Hey.  I’m not your fucking doctor OK.  I just think it is all a little farfetched!  There must be some sort of explanation for it.  That footage could have been doctored by one of your staff.”

“Impossible!”

“Everyone has their price Don.  Everyone!”

“You should know John!”  Don was flustered.  John could see that he was under pressure and he let the comment slide.  Marsh would certainly be holding him responsible if he is unable to turn up the culprit.

“Ok.”  John’s voice was calm and Don seemed to settle a little.  “What do you need from me?”

“I have been taking a look around the internet trying to find someone who can take a look at the footage.  I can’t just tell Marsh ‘Oh... It’s OK.  It was a ghost that did it!’  He will skin me alive.  I already have someone who can take a look at the video and I also want someone to go out to the house and have a look around.”  Don reached into the laptop back and pulled out a thick envelope.  “In here there is a copy of the footage on DVD and a capture of the raw data from the stream.  I want you to take it to a guy called Giles Franklin.  He has done some work for me before.  I just want to know if this is fake or not.  I also want you to contact a medium and take her out to the house to have a look around.  We’ll find out weather all this mumbo jumbo really is a crock of shit or not.  I found her on the net, although not directly, her name is Carla Warwick.  She is low key and will be ideal.  I have had InterSec employee passed made up for both of you so that you will not cause a stir when you visit Mr Marsh.”

“You seem to have done your homework.  But this could be dangerous.  I think I...”

“There’s five grand in cash in the envelope.”  Don cut him off before John could finish his sentence.  “Let’s discuss fees when we know what we are dealing with.”

“I’ll be in touch.”  John picked up the envelope and left the office.















THE GREEN BOOK



Introduction





You have been given this book by a friend.  This friend has sensed that you are at the beginning of an epic journey, that you are a gifted individual and that you have acknowledged your gift and your potential.

The word spiritual has many meanings and interpretations.  This text takes the word spirit as a reference to the spiritual energy within all of us, the energy that makes us who we are in this world and the energy that lives on when our time on this earthly plane draws to a close.

You are a spiritual person!  This means that you are aware of your own spiritual energy.  You make use of this energy to make you stronger as a person and to help others.

You are also aware of the spiritual energy of others both on this side of life and those who have passed over.  This makes you a very empathic person who is receptive to the mood and feelings of others.

There are many things that you do not understand and you may feel like this is too much to take in.  You may feel confused, scared or sceptical.  You should understand that you are not alone.  There are many that will help you along your path.  This book will be your first stepping stone.

















THE GREEN BOOK



I – Meditation – Feeling your spiritual energy



Meditation is one of the most important things you will learn.  Meditation is necessary to bring you closer to your spiritual energy.  It is this awareness of self that will stand you in good stead when dealing with life and its torments.  It will give you confidence and increase your self esteem.  It will also allow you to focus more closely on the energy of others and those around you will feel the energy that you radiate.



To meditate you should find a quiet location with no distractions.  You should make yourself comfortable and relax.  You do not have to be sitting up straight with your legs crossed beneath you to meditate.  Laying down on a couch or a bed may be more comfortable.

Once you are laying or sitting comfortably you should close your eyes.  Keep them closed until your meditation session is complete.

Start with your feet.  Push them down into the surface they are resting on and hold them there for a few seconds.  When you relax your feet will feel lighter.  When you are relaxed properly your body will lay in a position that is stable.  You will not need to employ any muscles to keep your body in position.

Repeat this process with your arms and your head.  Your body will find its own relaxed position.

Once you are totally relaxed you will find that your senses are more receptive.  You will hear sounds that are normally too quiet or that you would normally just ignore.  You should focus yourself on the sensations you feel within your body.  Focus on the rhythm of your heartbeat and your breathing.

Try to imagine your spiritual energy flowing through your body.  Visualise the ebb and flow of this energy from the centre of your body and out to your fingers and your toes.  Imagine it lapping at them like the ocean on the shore.  Pay attention to the colour of your energy.  You will find that the colour of your energy is not a constant.  It will change with your mood and your state of mind.



You should stay in this meditative state for as long as you feel is right.  There is no set amount of time that you should meditate for.  You may find that you fall asleep while meditating.  This is not something you should worry about.  As you get used to the process you will find it easier to focus.

To bring yourself comfortably out of a meditative state you should visualise the energy within you making contact with your body.  Your fingers and toes may begin to tingle at this point.  Open your eyes and take several deep breaths.  Take in your surroundings and notice the things you did not notice before.  You may feel more focussed and more energised.  When you get up, get up slowly.  You may feel a little light-headed after your first few sessions.  This is normal.  Just take a few more deep breaths and take your time.  Your body is just adjusting from being in a relaxed meditative state.















Chapter Three





John pushed the up button on the wall to call the elevator.  The intercom on the entrance to the building was broken and John had found the door wedged open with a crushed beer can.  The midday sun failed to penetrate the dark hallway with its graffiti covered walls and its palpable musty atmosphere.

There were twelve floors in the block and John was going to the eighth.  After a few minutes waiting he began to wonder if the elevator was even working.  Then he began to think that, even if it was, it may not be for much longer.  The eight flight climb started sounding more and more like a desirable option.

He was about to turn for the stairs when the doors slid open with an ominous metallic screech.  A young couple with brightly coloured hair, torn jeans and studded dog collars followed a plume of smoke out of the lift.  She looked like she should have been in school and he did not look much older.  The young man presented John with an upturned middle finger as they passed.  John noticed the joint jutting out from the side of it.  He slipped into the lift and pushed eight.

John stood in the centre of the elevator as it began to climb, not wanting to touch the walls.  The smell of urine mingled with the stale smoke.

How can people live in places like this?

John felt inside his pocked for the envelope he was carrying.  He pulled it out and checked the flat number he was visiting.

51!

The elevator ground to a halt and there was a lengthy pause before the doors ground open.  John stepped out into a hallway that was decorated in the same way as the ground floor.  The graffiti left none of the original wall colour showing.  John walked to the end of the corridor where the flat was located, double checked the name on his scrap of notepaper and knocked loudly on the door.

A light metallic scratch let John know that the occupant was making use of the peephole.

“My name is John Douglas,” John spoke softly and calmly, just loud enough to be heard, “I have something to show you that you may find interesting!”

A lock slid back and the door cracked open as far as the chain catch would allow.  Half of a pale face, big eyes behind thick lens glassed peered out.

“Giles isn’t it?”  John asked.  “Do I have the right number?  I think it is fifty one that I am looking for but the numbers are missing from your door.”

The door closed and John could hear the chain latch being taken off.  The door swung open and John could see Giles Franklin in full standing in the hallway of his flat.  He was a tall man, quite drawn and very pale.  His eyes had a feverish look about them, darting from left to right, which was amplified by his glasses.

“Come on in then,” Giles voice was surprisingly up-beat when compared to his appearance.  “Can I get you a drink?”

Giles breezed past and locked the door.  “You can’t be too careful with the colourful characters that frequent this place.”

John stepped through the hallway into the living room.  He was taken back by the look of the place.  There was, in complete contrast to the block it was in, a look of modern functionality.  There was beech wood floor that made the place seem bigger and the furniture was all soft tones.  John felt like he had just walked into a show home or a furniture store.

“So... Drink?”  Giles prompted again.  “Please.  Sit down.  Make yourself comfortable.”

“No.”  John sat himself down on one of two beige leather sofas that face each other with a glass topped table set between them.  “Thank you!”

Giles went to a small kitchen area that was tagged onto the side of the living room and pored himself a glass of water.  John leant back on the sofa and took in the living space.  A Small flat panel TV is mounted on one wall and a small bookcase with a small collection of DVDs, CDs and books completed the furnishings in the room.

“So... What have you got for me then?”  Giles took a seat on the opposite sofa.  “I understand that Fortelli sent you round.  But he didn’t say what it was concerning.”

“He wants you to take a look at some CCTV footage.  He wants to know if it has been tampered with.”  Looking at Giles, John could not tell how old he was.  He did however seem to take a liking to the man sitting opposite.  Like the contrast between the apartment and the block it was situated in, Giles seemed to have a warm and friendly personality that was completely mismatched with his image.

John handed over a plastic wallet that held several disks that were labelled with a code that he did not understand.  Giles flicked through them and seemed to recognise what he was looking at.

“You want to take a look at these now?” Giles asked.

“Sure!”  John had no immediate plans and a result here could mean he could work his way out of making a visit to Marsh’s place.  John found himself wondering exactly why he had taken the money.  This could get dangerous.  Danger money is danger money but John normally liked to keep a safe distance from the action.

Giles got up and walked over to one of two doors on the opposite wall to the kitchen.  He looked round as if to suggest that John follow and John got up and followed him over.  The door opened and inside the room was completely dark.  Giles flicked a switch and a row of lights came on that ran along one side of the room.  Once again, John was astounded by what he saw.  The room was small but contained a huge amount of equipment.  There was a rack filled with computer equipment, a desk with three computer screens and a huge array of different boxes and electronics that John did not recognise.

Giles placed the plastic wallet on the desk and sat down.  He flicked through the disks, there were seven in total, and pulled one out.  He reached over, placed the disk into a drive on one of the computers in the rack.  He entered a password and all three of the screen lit up with different information on each.  The screen in the centre then displayed the CCTV footage of Marsh’s study.  Giles watched the footage through until about thirty seconds after the blank section.

“Very interesting!”  Giles seemed impressed about something.  His fingers danced over the keyboard and John had no idea what he was doing.  This continued for a minute or so and then a progress bar appeared on screen, counting slowly towards one hundred percent.  Giles turned to John.

“What I have done is cut out the section of footage and made an exact copy.  I am now running it through a scanner application that I have put together.  The scanner looks and the changes between each frame and the composition of the frame data.  What it is looking for are discrepancies in the data.  If some of the footage had been doctored then the underlying data signature will have a blip or a change.  The nature of the change may even let us know where, or even when, the footage was changed.”

“So you are trying to find out if this has been faked?”  John looked at the progress bar.  Forty seven percent.

“In essence yes, the video looks authentic enough but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fake.  Firstly, there will be an original stream of data that is seamless.  Anything that is switched out or added will leave a mark on the data stream.  This may not be visible when you look at the footage but this scanner should be able to detect it.”

The progress bar hit one hundred percent and there was a quiet chime to let us know that it had finished.  Giles’ finger again danced on the keyboard and a chart appeared onscreen.  He flicked through about fifteen different charts that each had a line representing some sort of data from the footage.  He hummed quietly to himself as he continued to study the data he was seeing.

“This isn’t a fake.”  Giles seemed a little perplexed.  “There is no change in the underlying data stream.  Nothing has been added to this footage after it left the camera.  The interesting this is that nothing has been taken out.  All the data suggests that the camera was still running during the period of nothing.”

“Maybe someone turned out the light.”

“No.  This is a night vision infrared camera.  The light was never on in the first place.  These cameras output an infrared beam which is picked up by the lens.  It is as if the infrared output was turned off for fifteen seconds and then turned back on again.”

“Could someone have tampered with the camera itself?”  John was running out of ideas and ways to explain what had happened.

“Possibly, but this would have to have been setup way in advance so that this could have been triggered in advance.  The think is, once the camera is installed, any change or tampering or disabling of the camera would have alerted Fortelli and his engineers.  We can get him to check his maintenance records and see if the camera has been replaced or repaired.  If not then it would have to have been something put in place at install time.”  Giles had a confused look on his face.  “Fortelli is in big trouble if this is an inside job by one of his boys.”

“So...  What do you think?”  John really did not like not knowing what had happened.

“I really don’t know.”  Giles pulled out another disk from the wallet and placed it into a different drive.  As he spoke the screen on the right displayed the hallway outside and the door to the study.  His fingers continued to work the keyboard, completely disconnect from the conversation he was having.  “I cannot see how that much carnage could have been created in such a short amount of time.  This would have taken a lot of planning.  If the CCTV footage has been tampered with it is a pretty damned good job.  I will have to run a scan on the raw data but that will take a lot longer than a few minutes.  Leave the disks with me and I will let it run overnight.”

The scan on the hallway footage also showed no signs of tampering.  Giles went back to the footage of the study and took a snapshot if the two frames either side of the blank section.  He flicked between the two onscreen several times and then, after a few keystrokes, a printer in the corner that John had not even noticed, whirred into life and a copy of each of these before and after frames slid onto the tray.

“Hmmm…”  Giles stretched over and plucked the two sheets off the printer.  He frowned while comparing them.  “What do you make of these?”

John studied the two prints.  The first was a tidy, functional and modern study and the second looked like bomb damage.

“Look at the desk,” Giles pointed to the desk in the second shot which was still standing but had moved a couple of feet towards the camera compared with the first.  “There is something on the desk, something that was not their before!”

“The photo?”  John could now see what looked like a photo frame standing on the desk.  The picture was facing the camera but John could not make out what it was.

Giles grabbed the mouse next to his keyboard and zoomed in on the object on the desk.  It was certainly a photo in a frame.  There was someone in the picture but there was not enough detail to tell who.

Giles pointed to the first picture this time.  In the top right hand corner something had caught his attention.  He adjusted the zoom on the screen to show what he was looking at.

“Is that the same photo?”  John was thinking aloud and along the same lines as Giles.

“If it is then whoever did this wanted to draw attention to it.  Placing that photo on the desk must have been a deliberate act.”  Giles looked at John.  “Someone is trying to tell you something!”

John left the disks with Giles but took the prints with him.  Giles showed him out and John thanked him for his help.  John asked about Giles fee and Giles informed him that Fortelli has “An Account” and that it was taken care of.  On his way down in the lift John thought that Giles probably spends almost all of his waking hours in that dark room with all of that technology.  He also thought that, on the eighth floor of this block he was not likely to be inundated with visitors.  Maybe that was why Giles would choose to live here.















Chapter Four





Carla finished her meal and washed the dishes.  She had nothing but a relaxing evening with a book planned.  She slouched into her armchair and flicked through the TV channels.  With nothing on she switched off the TV and, as she went to sit back down, her doorbell rang.  She went into the hallway and opened the door.

“Good evening!  My name is John and I... Err...  It is Carla isn’t it?”

“Yes.  What can I do for you... John?”  There was a distinct air of caution in her voice.

“I think I am...  Err... In need of your expert services in relation to things of a...  Err... more paranormal nature!”

“Well.  John!  I do not normally get visitors from complete strangers and I certainly don’t invite them in.  You will have to stand there and tell me what it is you are going on about!”

“I am ever so sorry to trouble you.  A friend of mine speaks very highly of you.  I have been told that you are a medium that may be able to help me...  I am sorry. I should have called in advance instead of just turning up unannounced.  But you see, the thing is,” John was acting out a little.  He wanted to win Carla over as quickly as possible and he felt that face to face would be the easiest way, “I have never been to see or even spoken to a medium before.  I was going to call but I did not know what to say.”

It seemed to be working and Carla was getting cold standing at the door.

“Look… You had better come in.”  Carla held the door open and directed John into the living room.

“Nice place!”  John tried to make conversation. “Warm and... Kind of cosy.”

“What were you expecting?”  Carla was instantly on the defensive.  “Crystal balls?  A Gypsy caravan outside?  A cauldron?”

“Hey...”  John was a little surprised by the hostility from her.  “No offence meant.  I really do think this is quite a nice place you have here!  Maybe I should go...”

“Wait... Sorry...  I have had a tough week.  I didn’t mean to jump down you throat like that.  Please, take a seat.  Can I get you a drink?”

John sat down on the settee and relaxed a little while Carla made some coffee.

“So…” She called from the Kitchen.  “Tell me about what you need help with.”

John was thinking about how strange it would sound when he talked about going to Marsh’s place.  He decided that, at the moment, the less he told her the better.  Carla came in, set the coffee on the table and sat back in her armchair.

“Well, this friend of mine...”

“You’re sure this is a friend?”  Carla asked.

“Yes!”  John lied.  “This friend of mine has had some, shall we say, unusual occurrences at his house and he would like someone, like you, to take a look around and see if you can tell him anything about what may be going on.”

“Right!”  Carla clearly wasn’t buying the whole story but she played along with the idea.  “So you would like me to check and see if the place is haunted.”

“I guess...”

“Surely that would be a job for the Ghostbusters and not a thirty-something travel agent from north-east London.”  Carla smiled as she said it.  The gift she has is both a blessing and a curse.  Most of the people she meets seem to think that she is some sort of weird freak.  Scepticism, for her, is an accepted part of like and she has learned that it can be combated with sarcasm until such point as she is ready to commit.

John gave a little chuckle.

“I know it sounds strange but things have been moved about and my friend is a little confused and bewildered by it all really.”  John was settling into the role he was playing and the mask was sitting comfortably.  “The thing is… I am not sure I believe everything he says but I want to help him out.  You know, put his mind at ease.”

Carla could tell that there was more to this than she had been told but she was curious to know more.  Assuming this was not some kind of wind up she was certainly willing to help.  Satisfied, she agreed to the visit.  They settled on tomorrow night and John told her he would pick her up at seven thirty.

Carla was about to get up to see her guest out when she began feeling a sharp pain in her back, at the very base of her spine.  She shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you OK?”  John could see that something was not quite right.

“Yeah.  I’m fine.”  Carla’s legs began to feel numb, pins and needles shooting up from the soles of her feet.  She could feel the presence of spirit around her.  She took a deep breath and relaxed a little.  The sensations in her back and legs were being projected by spirit.  She started getting a feeling of conflict, intense conflict like a war zone or a battle.  The feeling subsided and she was shown a bottle of pills, medication for something, and then the feeling passed.

Carla looked over at John while deciding if she should say anything.

“I started getting a feeling.  I had pain in my back and my legs started to feel numb.  I also had a feeling of intense conflict and of medication for something.  Did you know anyone who was injured in a war perhaps, maybe on medication for something?”

“No.  No-one that I can think of!”  John shook his head although Carla could see a moment of recognition is his eyes.  “I will be sure to let you know though!”

With that John got up and, feeling fine now, Carla saw him out.  She closed the door wondering what she had let herself in for.



#



Walking along the street away from Carla’s apartment John was beginning to feel angry.  With each step the anger boiled into rage.  Although Carla’s comments had prompted this feeling the anger was not directed at her.  His father had been injured in a car accident.  His spine was broken and he spent the next seven months of his life in a wheelchair, paralysed from the waist down.  John and his father had never seen eye to eye.  He had abandoned him and his mother when he was just a child.  John had barely managed to stay in contact with him but, over time, their relationship had turned into a string of bitter arguments.  After the accident John had tried to help.  He had made one last effort to make peace with his father but, with ferocity, his father had lashed out at him.  He even blamed him for the accident.  He blamed his drink problem on John and his mother, completely unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

After seven months in a wheelchair and with no chance of recovery John’s father had committed suicide.  He booked into a hotel, drank almost the entire contents of the mini bar and then swallowed at least three bottles of pills including pain killers, anti-depressants and sleeping tablets.  The hotel staff had found him in the morning.  John had identified the body for the record but did not attend the funeral.