Trinity kicked the door open and swept in, pistol in hand. She swiveled quickly from left to right, scanning the room for signs of life. There were none, so she motioned to Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby to come in. They entered, Velma less reluctantly than the other two.
"Like, what a mess," Shaggy quipped.
"This place looks like an office," Velma said, picking up a bundle of papers from the desk.
Trinity opened the desk's top drawer to see a large black date book, its cover stuffed with notes and other pieces of paper. "I think it's the – it's Mr. Wilson's office."
Scooby's tail drooped. "Are you sure we should be searching Mr. Wilson's office?" Shaggy asked uneasily.
"Easy, you two. It's not like he's going to find out." Velma opened a notebook that claimed to be Club Hel's accounting records and a folded piece of paper fell on her shoe.
"Is it a clue?"
"Let's see . . . it's in French."
"No surprises there," Trinity said. "Any idea what it says?"
"It's a letter," Velma said, "addressed to Mr. Wilson . . . someone named Miller is selling something. I think – "
"Look out!" Shaggy interrupted. "It's the creepy Indian with the sunglasses!"
Trinity looked up and saw one of the twins standing at the door. Cursing under her breath, she pointed her gun at him, vaguely aware of Scooby diving for cover in a blur of paper and tail. The twin smiled grimly and pulled the door closed with a brief touch, stepping behind it as he did. Trinity fired three shots, but they only hit the inside of the door as it closed with a loud click.
"Dammit!" She lunged forward and grabbed the handle, and twisted and pulled as hard as she could. "Son of a – I think he locked us in!"
"Oh, no!" Shaggy wailed. "We're goners now!"
"Don't panic, Shaggy," Velma chided. "We got in, so we can get out."
"I hope you're right," Trinity said quietly. "Velma, hang on to that document. Actually . . ." She strode over to the desk and grabbed the datebook from the top drawer. "Let's take this."
"Do you think this is a clue too, Carrie?"
"Most likely. Help me look for another way out. We're getting out of here even if we have to crawl through the air vent."
"On second thoughts," Shaggy replied, "I changed my mind. Maybe we should just wait here. Like, that big white couch looks comfortable."
"Okay!" Velma nodded. "You two stay here and wait for the ghost to come back."
"Tell him I said hi," Trinity added caustically.
Shaggy leapt to his feet and started tapping on the walls. Trinity stood on a footstool to look at the top of the bookshelf, then stepped down and stopped short. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it.
"Scooby – are you in the file cabinet?"
Back in the coat check room, Neo took in the men on the ceiling and their shotguns with a quick glance. "Cover!" he shouted.
He was vaguely aware of Fred and Daphne diving behind nearby columns as the two exiles opened fire. Neo threw himself to one side, spinning head over heels, able to watch the shells fly past his legs and gouge massive holes in the floor. As one of the men leapt down to the floor, he dodged around a column and approached him from the side. A swift kick knocked the exile's gun to the floor. The man took a backhanded swipe at Neo which he ducked easily, before grabbing him by the wrist, twisting his arm outwards and backwards, and landing two bone-crushing punches to the ribs. As the man doubled over, Neo wrenched on his arm, threw him into a forward flip, and brought his immaculately-shined size 11 loafer down on the prone man's neck.
He looked to his left instinctively, just as the second man ran past above him, weapon raised. Neo ducked behind the column as the sound of the shotgun blast echoed through the room. He peered out from the other side and saw the exile running down the wall – right next to Daphne. She turned to flee, but the man grabbed her by the upper arm. Neo charged across the floor, took a hold of his collar, and flung him against the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. The exile dropped to the floor a split second before Neo's fist slammed into the space where his head had been. A cloud of dust rose and chunks of concrete showered as Neo's knuckles hammered a massive hole in the wall.
His shotgun forgotten, the minion rolled, leapt upright, and cartwheeled away. Fred emerged from behind a nearby column as he landed. The man twisted to avoid him, lost his footing, and soared majestically for just a moment before his head slammed into the floor and he stopped moving.
"My heroes," Daphne said. She tiptoed nervously towards the guard's corpse. "Are these guys Indian ghosts too?"
"I don't think so," Neo replied. "They're dressed more like club security."
"Look at this!" Fred exclaimed. "This guard has a whole lot of keys on his belt."
"He must be the janitor," said Daphne.
"Keys? Is that a problem?"
"Not really," Fred replied, "except that some of these," he slipped the key ring off of the dead man's belt, "are clearly for different kinds of locks than the doors here. This one even says '1135 Industry Way' on it."
"He's got," Neo pondered, "a bunch of keys that aren't his."
"And the ghost," Daphne added, "grabbed Mary Sue's key."
"Clue," all three of them said in unison.
They marched to the large double doors next to the coat check counter. As he held the door open, Neo asked, "I don't know if this is a bad time, but would you mind if I asked you something about your van you mentioned?"
"Sure, Tom. You see, my aunt used to work at a used car dealer – "
"You guys, look!" Daphne interrupted. "The ghost is up on the top floor!"
"Get down!" Neo snapped. He pulled his gun out of his coat and scouted ahead. Sure enough, one of the twins was standing at the top of the stairs, talking intently with . . .
"It's Mr. Wilson!" Fred exclaimed. "This whole mystery is starting to make sense."
"Let's find the others." They tiptoed towards the door to the back rooms, through the increasingly unsteady revellers on the dance floor. Fred turned the knob and pulled the door open.