“That’s it,” said Happy, surging to his feet. “We are now officially way out of our depth. I think I’ll bolt for the exit now. Try and keep up.”

“Stand still, man,” said JC. “Melody, can you track this intrusion down, pinpoint its location?”

“Let’s not,” Happy said immediately. “Really really bad idea, people.”

“I can point you in the right direction,” said Melody. “Go and find it with my blessing, give it a good kicking, then drag it back here so I can poke it with a stick.”

“Love to,” said JC.

“I have fallen among mad people,” said Happy. “Am I the only sane person here? We are not trained, equipped, or armed enough to deal with Great Beasts or Outer Monstrosities, or any of the Abominations! We are ghost finders, not god killers! Being in the same place as . . . whatever this thing is, is playing hell with my head. I can feel it, out there, waiting for us. Waiting for us to come to it, so it can do terrible things to us! Please, JC, trust me; we are not ready for this.”

“Happy, you heard the Boss,” said JC, not unkindly. “There’s no-one else. Or at least, no-one else who can get here in time. We can’t let this spread, Happy. We have to stop it here.”

“How?” said Happy. All the anger had gone out of him, leaving only fatigue and bitterness. “What can we do?”

“What we always do,” said JC. “Hit hard, move fast, improvise wildly, and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat at the very last moment through superior gamesmanship and blatant cheating.”

“Oh, that’s what we do, is it?” said Melody. “I’ve often wondered.”

Happy turned his back on both of them, staring determinedly off into the distance. He would have liked to indulge in a sulk, but upset as he was, he still knew that JC was right. He had to do something. Because he was there. Because there wasn’t anybody else. Story of his life, such as it was.

“Ghosts,” he said loudly. “I can sense ghosts everywhere. All kinds, too. But most of them are irrelevant. Old stone tapes, stirred up by the arrival of the Intruder. No connection to what’s really going on. There is a purpose to all this. An intelligent purpose, with a definite end in mind.”

“It’s always the same with you,” Melody said cuttingly. “Every case we work, you always have to bring up the big picture, look for some sinister hidden intent, so you can fit it into your Grand Conspiracy of Absolutely Everything.”

“She does have a point,” said JC.

“The dead are at war with the living,” said Happy, spinning round to glare at JC and Melody. “Or some of them, anyway. Abhuman creatures are constantly trying to get to us, to force their way into our world from their strange outer dimensions, to eat us, or rule us, or replace us. It isn’t only me that thinks this, you know. Most of the big thinkers at the Carnacki Institute are convinced that something is happening, behind the walls of reality, beyond the fields we know. That certain Powers and Forces are working constantly to weaken the barriers between our worlds and the afterworlds, for reasons of their own.”

“Have you stopped taking your antipsychotic medication again?” said JC.

“It’s not only the Institute that believes this!” Happy insisted. “The Crowley Project are just as concerned.”

“Those bastards,” said Melody, giving a recalcitrant computer a good slap, so it knew she was serious. “I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

“The Project are undoubtedly a bunch of complete and utter evil bastards, with an unhealthy interest in world domination,” said JC. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re any more clued in as to what’s really Going On than anyone else.” He stopped and considered the matter for a moment. “Do you suppose the Project know about Oxford Circus yet?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Happy. “They hear about everything, eventually. Word is, they have more field agents out in the world than we do.” It was his turn to look thoughtful as he considered possibilities. “Do you suppose . . . Could they be responsible for what’s happened here? Could this be some experiment of theirs, gone horribly wrong? And they’ve got the hell out of Dodge and left us to clean up their mess? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Maybe,” said JC. “And maybe not. Who knows anything, where the Crowley Project are concerned? Still, I have to wonder if we can expect interference on this mission from some of their field agents.”

“Oh, this gets better all the time,” said Happy. “I can feel one of my funny turns coming on.”

“The Boss would have warned us if there was any danger of confrontation,” said Melody. She stopped and looked up from her precious instruments, a new concern in her face. “Wouldn’t she?”

“You know the Boss,” said JC. “She only ever tells us what she thinks we need to know. So we can concentrate our minds on the matter at hand. But . . . I’m pretty sure she would have told us if there’d been any indication the Crowley Project were involved in the creation of this particular mess. Because it could have a bearing on what we might have to do, to shut it down. So, no . . . I think we can rule out bumping into any Project agents down here, on the grounds that no-one with any working brain-cells would come down here, into the middle of all this, unless they absolutely had to.”

“Good point,” said Happy. “Suddenly, I feel so much more secure. I may even do my happy dance.”

“Please don’t,” said Melody. “Some things are an affront to nature.”

“So, children, let us bend our talents to the matter at hand,” said JC. “All hauntings, no matter how extreme they may become, are the result of a single triggering event. Something specific happens to set everything else in motion. Identify, remove, or defuse that unfortunate beginning, disrupt the pattern, and the haunting will collapse. I don’t see why this mess should be any different, for all its apparent scale. So let’s find the starting point and shut it down; and then we can all go home.”

“You make it sound so simple, and so easy,” said Happy. “And you know perfectly well it never is.”

“Right,” said Melody. “Save the pep talk for new-comers. We know better.”

“Remember when we trapped the Hammersmith Soul Thief in a mirror, last year, then smashed it?” JC said patiently. “That worked out fine, didn’t it? We never heard from him again.”

“Well, yes,” said Happy. “But it still took me ages before I could look into my mirror without expecting to see him standing behind me, peering over my shoulder, and smiling.”

“But it worked,” JC said firmly. “Just like my brilliant gambit at the supermarket, this morning. We can do this, people.”

Happy wouldn’t look at him. “I wish it was that simple, JC. I really do. But there’s something down here with us, and I don’t think we’ve ever met anything like it before. There are . . . Things, Powers, at work in the afterworlds. Some Good, some Bad, some so far beyond us we can’t even hope to understand their motivations and purposes. Sometimes they help us, sometimes they interfere, and sometimes they send us down to Hell with a nudge and a laugh. It isn’t the ghosts we have to fear; it’s the things that make ghosts.”

“Happy, you really are a first-class gloomy bugger,” JC said affectionately. “You could gloom for the Olympics, and still take a Bronze in existential paranoia.”

“Everyone has to be good at something,” said Happy, smiling a little in spite of himself. “But don’t change the subject . . .”

“Happy, you can believe in whatever you want,” said JC, cutting him off with an upraised hand. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of doing the job. We are not here to take part in some mystic war between Absolute Powers from the Outer Realms. We are here to solve a haunting and put everyone and everything to rest again. That’s what we do.”

“I swear, you two argue like an old married couple,” said Melody. “And it’s interfering with some of my more sensitive instruments. Go take a walk around, check out the other platforms, look for clues or something, and leave me in peace to get on with my work. Stick your phones in your ears, and I’ll give you a yell when I have something definite to tell you.”