GHOSTBUSTERS: The Return Read online

  "That's great," said Venkman. gazing absently around the walls of the dressing room.

  "Well, I'd think you could work up a little more enthusiasm. This is your campaign we're talking about, after all... "

  Milken stepped smoothly into the space between them and laid a soothing hand on Golden's shoulder. "Now, Ted, of course we're all excited. We've scored a significant PR victory and eliminated Lapinski's exorcist in one fell swoop."

  "That's my point. I - "

  "But let's be fair," MiIken continued. "Peter's got a major debate in just over two hours. It's only natural for him to be a little preoccupied right now."

  Golden paused for a moment, digesting the point. He quietly laid the newspaper down on a small table. "Right, right. Sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to imply... "

  Venkman raised a hand. "Hey," he said. "Don't worry about it. No hay problema."

  Milken steered Golden toward the door. "Come, let's give these folks a little quiet time. We'll go find John and check on the audio hook-up."

  As they exited, Milken turned back to say, "Remember, Peter: hair and make-up in forty-five minutes. And be sure to empty your pockets. The lines of your suit need to hang straight."

  Venkman formed his fingers into a gun and pointed at Milken in reply. "Forty-five minutes. Pockets. Gotcha."

  As the door eased shut, Winston picked up the newspaper and stared at the front-page photo. "We should've been there," he said.

  "Looks like they handled it okay without us," Venkman said, trying to convince himself as much as Winston.

  "Yeah, but look." Winston pointed at the photo. "Chasing ghosts in a burning building? We're not talking about a standard get-the-poltergeist-out-of-the-attic situation here. They could've been killed."

  "I know. But we've been over all of this already. You know what Gary said. We've got responsibilities here, too."

  "I guess..."

  "Another week or two, and we'll work out a schedule to split our time better."

  Winston nodded, then turned to Dana. "You're an impartial third party. What do you think?"

  Dana had been quiet throughout the conversation, listening thoughtfully. "I don't think there is a simple answer," she said. "It sounds like you need to decide on some priorities."

  "That's where the words 'easier said than done' come in," said Winston. "There's a lot of good we can do with the Ghostbusters. But there's a lot of good we can do from the mayor's office, too."

  All of Winston's talk about "doing good" was starting to make Venkman even more uncomfortable than he already was. "Hey," he said, changing the topic. "Do either of you know if the guys are coming down to watch today?" The cable news station had limited seating available in the studio where they were holding the debate, but Venkman had managed to snag a few tickets for Dana and his teammates. He could use some friendly faces in the audience.

  Winston shrugged. "Haven't spoken to them."

  "They weren't around when I dropped off the tickets with Janine" said Dana. "I'm sure they'll be here if they can."

  Venkman nodded. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. "If they can."

  Dana eyed him cautiously. "How are you feeling about the debate?"

  "Who, me? No sweat. I'm Doctor Smooth, remember?"

  "Nervous, huh?" said Winston.

  "You could say that."

  "Scared out of your wits?"

  "Mm. You could say that, too."

  Dana slipped her arms around Venkman and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You'll do fine," she said.

  "Funny," said Winston, "I told him the same thing yesterday."

  "Did you kiss him while you said it?"

  "No, but now that you mention it... "

  Venkman grinned and raised a fist. "Try it, and you'll be the world's first politician to be assassinated before getting elected."

  Dana chuckled, then kissed Venkman tenderly on the lips. "How's that?"

  Venkman licked his lips and gave her a squeeze.

  "Mmm...a little better," he replied. "Of course, if you want me to really feel better... "

  "Down, boy," she said. "You don't need to feel that much better."

  "Sheesh. Get a room," Winston said with a smile.

  Dana eased out of Venkman's arms and held out a hand, palm up. "Now, hand it over."

  "What?" asked Venkman.

  "The wallet, cell phone, everything."

  "That's a little steep for one kiss, don't you think?"

  Dana gave his shoulder a friendly shove. "You need to clean out your pockets, remember? I'll hold it all for you."

  "Oh, okay. But I'm warning you: I counted the spare change."

  "Big spender."

  Venkman chuckled and started to pull a variety of objects out of his pockets. One by one, he handed them to Dana, who stashed them safely in her shoulder bag.

  Once his pants pockets were cleared out, Venkman reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled out the brochures that she had given him for the Museum of Natural History and the planetarium. He started to hand them to her, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  "Why don't you hang onto those?" Dana said. "It's a good reminder."

  "Subtle. Real subtle," said Venkman. But he returned them to his pocket, just the same.

  Off to the side, Winston idly noticed the newspaper that he was still holding in his hand. He raised the paper up to eye level.

  "It is a nice picture," he admitted.

  The Mayor hurled the newspaper across his dressing room. As the pages fanned out and separated, the front page photo of Ray and Egon fluttered to the floor.

  "This is a disaster!" he shouted.

  "It's a setback," Wong admitted. "There should be ways to overcome it, though."

  "Oh, really? Out of all the papers in the city, the Post is my biggest supporter. Remind me, what's on their front page? Pictures of me kissing babies? Oh, no, that's right - it's a photo of Venkman's friends, saving the day!"

  "I know things look bad right now..."

  "Bad? The Hindenberg looked bad. This is terrible!"

  "You're still ahead in the polls."

  "For now."

  "And you have a chance to keep it that way by trouncing Venkman in the debate today - that shouldn't be hard. But you can only do it if you stay cool and keep your temper under control. If you let everything get to you, it'll show."

  Lapinski stopped and took a deep breath, exhaling heavily. "All right. You've got a point."

  "I'm not saying anything you don't already know yourself. Now, shall we finish reviewing the additions to your talking points?"

  "Sure. Go ahead."

  "Goodraven."

  "I don't bring him up during the debate. We hold off on making a statement until I can do it without a stage full of candidates standing there."

  "And if someone else brings him up?"

  "Goodraven was using a respected technique, and had it tightly controlled. When the Ghostbusters barged in, they disrupted the procedure and things went out of control."

  "So you're still using him?"

  "No. Yesterday's experience has made me realize that, despite Goodraven's extensive safeguards, interference by less experienced parties can still cause an indirect threat. Since I'm not willing to take even a small chance with the safety of the citizens of New York, we have come to an amicable and respectful parting of ways with Mister Goodraven. We are currently considering several alternate options, and plan to announce something soon."

  "Excellent. Venkman?"

  "Emphasize his inexperience and unreliability. Talk about the demands and stress of the job. And when the opportunity arises, I slip in the fact that he was committed to a mental hospital."

  "Even though it was a previous administration that had him committed - for a day. Before Klotch reversed his decision. But you don't have to mention that."

  "No, but he will, if he has a lick of sense. When he does, I move on to his arrest record."

  Wang nodded slow
ly. "It'll work. You'll take the debate in a walk."

  "I'll bury him."

  Ray hadn't had the chance to see the photo yet. He'd been a little occupied.

  Actually, he'd planned to wake up at six A.M. and get an early start on digging through the next batch of Babylonian documents, in search of further information on Xanthador. But after everything he'd gone through the day before, he wound up oversleeping until ten past eight. When he did wake up and saw the clock, he tried to lump out of bed, only to discover the aches that ran through nearly every part of his body. That was enough to convince him to move a little more slowly. So, by the time he pulled himself out of bed, showered, and got dressed, it was already after nine o'clock.

  Ever since Ray had moved back into the quarters above the Ghostbusters offices, one of his favorite parts of the day was his morning commute down the pole that remained from the days when the building had been a fire house. Today, however, the impact as he landed at the bottom of the pole made him realize (just a little too late) that sliding down was probably a mistake this morning. As he slowly straightened up, he whimpered a greeting to Janine and Egon. They had already arrived and were hard at work, plowing through stacks of research material.

  Ray settled in with some yellowing fragments of parchment, a cup of black coffee, and a bagel. As he chewed the bagel, he discovered that even his teeth ached. "How are you feeling?" he asked Egon.

  "Fine," Egon said, with some mild surprise in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

  Ray wasn't sure whether Egon was putting him on, or whether he should just be disgusted. He decided to let it pass. "So, where are we up to?" he asked.

  "Nothing so far. I have Janine going through an English translation of tractate Avodah Zarah from the Babylonian Talmud," Egon replied. "In the meantime, I'm about a third of the way through the court records from the Nebudchadnezzar dynasty, but it's slow going. I have to admit that my Aramaic is a little rusty."

  "I can't imagine why." Ray looked around. "No Louis today?"

  Janine held up several small, rectangular pieces of cardboard. "Dana dropped these off yesterday. They're tickets for Doctor Venkman's debate," she explained. "Louis decided to go. He said he's never been to a live municipal debate before. There's a ticket for you, too, if you're interested."

  Ray thought it over briefly. Truthfully, he felt a bit torn. On the one hand, Peter was his best friend, and he wanted to be supportive. But at the same time, Ray knew that he needed to be here, looking for an answer before Xanthador hit the city with something even worse.

  "Thanks," he said, "but I'd better stick around here."

  The next hour or so passed quietly, with the three of them skimming through various texts. Their only accompaniment was the police scanner and the usual background noise of Slimer gobbling down everything In sight.

  "Bingo," said Ray.

  Egon looked up. "You found something?"

  "Paydirt," said Ray. "It's right here, in the journals of Bar Ulla."

  "Bar Ulla," Egon said, throwing up his hands. "Why didn't I think of the journals of Bar Ulla?"

  Ray ran his finger across the yellowed page of parchment. "Some of it isn't really legible anymore... "

  "Spending two thousand years in a clay jar in a cave will do that."

  "And 'Xanthador' isn't the easiest name in the world to spell in Aramaic."

  "Or in English," said Janine.

  "But I'll bet that 'Zantador' is the same being," said Ray. "It refers to him as 'Zantador, lord of fear.'"

  "That supports our hypothesis," said Egon. "He's a fear demon."

  "Or he plays one on TV."

  "Does it say how to stop him?"

  "No, but there is a prophecy. Blah, blah, blah, 'reign of terror'... blah, blah, blah, 'devour the fears of man'... blah, blah, blah, 'rain down fire and brimstone from the heavens'... "

  "Sounds like pretty standard stuff," said Egon.

  "Mostly. But there's also a date attached."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. I guess Bar Ulla liked his prophecies specific," said Ray. "Xanthador is supposed to attain his ascendance when Saturn aligns with Venus and Mars."

  "It sounds like you found the Aramaic lyrics to Hair," said Janine.

  "Nope, it's right here. Look, there's even a diagram." Ray held it up to show them. There was an array of small circles and dots, with three of them lined up in a row and connected by a straight line.

  "So if we can find the next time the planets are due to align in that configuration," said Egon, "We'll know when to expect Xanthador's major offensive."

  "What do you want to bet it's next Tuesday?"

  "Uh-uh," said Janine. "You won't see an alignment like that for at least another... hundred and fifty years. Maybe more."

  Egon and Ray stared at her.

  "Oh, don't look so surprised," she said. "I know stuff, too."

  "Yes, but..."

  "You've gotta know about orbits and stuff if you're serious about astrology. Like when I worked out your star charts, rememberer?"

  Ray remembered. Janine had predicted that he would take a long ocean voyage with a purple muskrat. So far, it hadn't happened yet. But it sounded so wonderfully bizarre that Ray was still hoping It would.

  "A hundred and fifty years, huh?" he said.

  "Give or take," said Janine. "I'd have to plot out the charts to be completely sure, but it's something in that ballpark."

  He flashed an inquisitive glance at Egon, who shrugged slightly in reply.

  "We should probably double-check your figure with someone at NASA or one of the observatories," Egon told Janine. "But if that's correct, it takes some of the heat off. It means the full-blown attack is more than a century away."

  Janine got up and crossed the room to answer a ringing phone.

  As she moved out of immediate earshot, Egon whispered to Ray, "Do you think she's right?"

  "I dunno. Could be."

  "We should double check."

  "Sure," said Ray. But it could be good news."

  "Very good news."

  "Of course, if this is what it's like when the heat's off," said Ray, "I'd hate to see what it looks like when things get hot."

  "True," Egon replied. "But at least there's a good chance that it won't get any worse anytime soon."

  Ray stretched his arm and winced. "That's something, I suppose."

  "Let's take another look at what Bar Ulla has to say..."

  Before they could do more than smooth out the parchment, though, Janine hung up the phone. "We've got another one," she called over to them.