Page 52 of No Surrender
They began to walk again, and Simon looked distracted as if he were listening to something. Vic wondered if that might be Dante’s ghost.
“Here.” Simon stopped in front of a place where the cave maze folded back on itself and pointed to a section of the wall. He didn’t sound quite like himself, which confirmed Vic’s hunch that Dante was with them.
Vic looked at the place where the cave was thicker because of an outcropping. A fake boulder had been pushed up against the side, and when Vic leaned over for a better view without touching anything, he saw where the wall had been tampered with. The odor, though faded, was sharper here, and Vic didn’t envy the forensics team their task.
“We’ll mark it,” Vic said as Ross moved to put an “X” on the floor in chalk. “But before we bring the others up, let’s sweep the rest of the place. I don’t like the limited line of sight.”
Vic dropped his voice. “Talk to me, Simon. What’s up with the ghosts?”
“They’re all around us, watching from a safe distance. Dante is keeping them back until Thompson’s spirit makes his move.”
When they emerged from the caves, they saw the grand entrance of a faux castle. The doorway loomed over them, ominous and intimidating.
The huge doors stood ajar. Vic and Ross pushed them open, revealing a once-opulent foyer.
“They really went over the top on this, didn’t they?” Ross commented.
“It looked even better back in the day,” Gordon replied. “Their prop and set people were good. They made it easy to forget you were inside a huge warehouse two blocks from the beach.”
“Through there.” Simon pointed toward a doorway that led into a parlor. Unlike the rest of the castle set, this room looked like it had been settled by a squatter. A sleeping bag, camp lantern, and a trash bin filled with soda cans and decaying cardboard suggested that Thompson had stayed here.
On a banquette by the wall, half-melted candles bookended what appeared to be a small shrine. Simon moved closer without touching anything to confirm Vic’s darkest suspicions. Jewelry, watches, hair combs, and glasses taken from the victims were the mementos Thompson kept.
“Those trophies they didn’t find in Thompson’s apartment? They’re here,” Simon told them, sounding like he wanted to throw up.
“Shit,” Ross murmured. “This is the part of the job I hate.”
“We still have to break the news to the families,” Vic countered. “That’sthe part of the job I hate.”
Simon backed away from the shrine. “Dante says there’s a dungeon set where Thompson did his worst. We should go around it—crime scene.” His voice sounded thick, and in the harsh blue light, he looked pale.
“That’s right,” Gordon confirmed. “It was an optional scene because it was truly scary. They said the torture devices were real antiques brought over from Europe. There was a ‘chicken door’ so people who were too faint of heart didn’t have to see it.”
“What’s coming up?” Simon asked Gordon as they walked through a fake library and an elaborate dining room still set with plates and pieces of wax mannequins, everything thick with dust. Vic thought Simon looked twitchy, expecting an attack.
“The coffin room and the back exit,” Gordon replied. “We’re almost at the end.”
“I don’t like this,” Vic muttered. “Where in the fuck is Thompson?”
“Waiting for us.”
Vic and the others turned to look at Simon, who had the glassy-eyed expression he got when he saw with his gift instead of his vision.
“Simon—”
Simon shook his head. “Gotta finish this. We owe it to the ghosts. Play it like we planned, and it will all be okay.”
By now Vic knew when his partner was putting on a good face. He sensed Simon’s fear, but apprehension was overwritten by resolve. He realized that from Simon’s perspective, this was a supernatural hostage situation, and he knew the psychic wouldn’t rest until the victims had been set free.
Simon handed off his shotgun to Vic, keeping a small iron knife for defense. He pulled a canister of salt from his backpack and laid a circle around the banquette, then put a thick line across the doorway to the coffin room. He murmured something that sounded like a prayer.
“Protection spell,” he whispered to Vic. “I’ve added protections to this room, and ghosts can’t cross a salt line as long as it’s intact,” Simon said louder for the benefit of those who hadn’t seen a medium at work.
“Doesn’t that include Dante?” Ross asked.
“Dante can take care of himself. He’s our scout, and right now he’s keeping Thompson’s ghost busy so I can get set up.”
As if on cue, they heard a thump from the next room, then the sound of breaking glass.
