The Damocles Solution 10
Janine had never slept on a bed with so many layers of fluff as she had the past two nights. She found herself amusedly counting each one as she peeled them off earlier in the morning. Now in mid-afternoon, after applying some mud mask, she was more than happy to girlishly jump back into the mounds of sheets and comforters.
She reviewed the previous day. She had hardly seen Egon, which she expected, and it seems he never even checked in with her before retiring to his own room to sleep that night—if he slept at all. She figured he was much too preoccupied at various mini-meetings and lectures to do so. These science guys must run on jet fuel, she thought. No matter—she had an entire day on her own in these gorgeous surroundings…and more than once, was asked by prominent men and women about how the secretarial and legal issues of such an unusual business were handled. It was clear that some of the scholars were wise enough to see that the behind-the scenes work was just as important as the fame and glory of the front lines, and this she found immensely flattering.
She glanced at the clock. There still was over an hour and a half to the dinner, which was only two floors below. Plenty of time to soak up a little more know-how, she figured, cracking open the algebra book she had been working on since two days ago, and adjusting her plush new hunter green robe that she got on a great sale (or she would have never been able to afford it!) at a local posh store.
"Area of a square = sides squared. Hm. Easy enough. Area of a rectangle = length times width. Okay. Area of a triangle, where x = half the perimeter…so that's the square root of x times x minus the "a" side, times x minus the "b" side…oh gawd….times…x…minus…"
She threw the book aside. "This is ridiculous! Dr. Spengler is rubbing off on me a little too much, and I gotta stop this now!" She got up off the bed and headed over to the window, and put her hands on her hips. "I'm gonna treat this like a vacation." With a wink, she added, "And I still got the dinner left to pick everyone's brain, too!"
She sat down at the elaborate vanity mirror, inspecting each compact she brought. She pulled out that container of lipstick she bought at that adorable little boutique. "Wow, this one looks waaaay too dark now that I got a good look at it. What am I gonna use this for?" She threw it back in a pocket in her suitcase. "Melnitz, Melnitz, Melnitz. How many times do I have to to tell ya not to impulse shop like that! Now I hafta get an entire outfit just to match that lipstick!"
A knock sounded at her door. "Well, I'm not exactly in gorgeous mode right now, but I guess it can't hurt to answer a few more questions."
She made her way over, and was shocked into silence by the fact that there was Egon standing there through the peephole. She hurriedly unlocked the door and swung it open.
She gasped. There he was, in full charcoal-grey morning suit dress, complete with ascot tie and popped-up collar. The long vertical lines of the sharp suit only made him look even taller than he was, if that were possible. Thank God for mud mask, because my face is probably redder than that cranberry drink I had room service deliver last night! she thought.
Hands in his pockets, he raised an eyebrow in confusion, noticing not only her mud mask, but also her inability to speak. "Janine? Are you feeling well?" he asked cluelessly.
"Oh…E—ah…Doctor Spengler—you're…so…ah…" she started breathlessly, looking way up at his face.
She looked back at the clock again, and cringed. There was still an entire hour and a half to go! "…early," she finished painfully.
She held up her hands, blurted out, "Never mind. I'll get ready in a jiff!" and closed the door hard, leaving Egon in the hallway to wait.
A few minutes later, she already had her mud mask off (which tingled her skin and did wonders for her her complexion in one use!) and slipping her sapphire blue, knee-length dress on. After taking another spare moment or two to don other essentials such as hose, shoes, and jewelry, she dug through her luggage to find her matching new clutch purse.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, now that she was finished, she modeled the dress to herself, spinning and posing this way and that way. Who needs a fairy to change the way you look when you can have this, Melnitz! she thought, briefly reviewing the fact that since the fiasco with Lotabucks, it didn't take long for her looks to snap back to normal. You were just plain out of your mind. But…considering what's waiting outside for me… She shook her head. Nevermind. You're not getting off easy because you're cute, Dr. Spengler.
Opening the door, she saw him sitting on the plush velvet seat near her door in the hallway, reading the most recent edition of Who's Who and What's That. She looked at her watch, and realized she spent an entire hour and a quarter getting ready.
She made her way to the door, sighing before she opened it. Where the heck did all that time go?
"So….how'd you…ah…manage to pass the wait out here?" she ventured to ask him as he arose from his seat and began to walk alongside her towards the elevator.
"I must say I had a rather interesting lengthy discussion with a gentleman that's a specialist on a dairy farm. He's working on researching the relationship of our previous cases involving haunted chickens to increased positive mood trends in bovine livestock. That took quite a bit of time. Also, another guest asked me what I was doing, and when I replied that I was waiting for my secretary to finish her preparations, he handed me this magazine," he added, confused, "and, um, he also said in the future I should take War and Peace along with me if I find myself in the same situation ever again."
Janine frowned. "Ladies don't take that long," she hissed under her breath.
They fell into silence and stepped in the elevator. Egon seemed to be having some trouble keeping his elbow near her at bay. She knew he was asking for something, in his own way, by continuing to clear his throat, and holding out his arm so far she almost walked into it a few times.
She beat him at the pass. "Oh, and yes, Dr. Spengler. I see you've selected charcoal grey as your color for this occasion. Good choice," she said wickedly, refusing to take the arm he now seemed rather used to having her hands around. "It does wonders for your complexion."
She didn't bother to look at his face, however, his hands fell into his pockets…and stayed there the rest of the trip down.
There was no need for the siren on the way to ProbeCorp. Since the entity in question wasn't particularily destructive, this wasn't considered an emergency. And the ride gave the guys the opportunity to compare notes they remembered about the case.
What also helped was Peter's driving. His painfully slow, purposefully deliberate driving.
"Peter?" said Ray as they puttered along, everyone else easily passing them. "I know you don't like it there but…that entity's gotta go."
"Ray, that thing wasn't smart enough to haunt a mattress store. It's haunting a lab with preserved body parts. So I am in no particular hurry to make that thing go anywhere." He nervously massaged his brow. "Not even for the money, this time. Gee, I gotta be coming down with something!" he turned to the redhead sitting aside of him. "Feel my forehead, Tex. Am I hot?"
Winston kept to the business plan. "Well, the guy on the phone said this place did change hands a few times in 1979, because of financial difficulties. We have that to start with."
"From what I remember, the first owner in 1979 and the second were pretty good guys. I can't understand what could've happened," Ray added, confused.
"Some major storms kept interfering with their electrical work. Kept blowin' out the machines and they constantly needed repair. First owner tried to cover the repairs with some loans but the grants they were receiving weren't coverin' em."
"Wonder if it was ever investigated that the electric problems were the result of supernatural work?"
Winston shook his head. "Nope. Definitely not supernatural. That year was a bad year for storms. I do remember that from Janine's notes."
For a few moments, they fell into thoughtful silence.
After finally pulling up the car to the gate of ProbeCorp, Peter sighed heavily while Ray and Winston got out of the car and suited up. He leaned forward and draped himself over the steering wheel. "I just can't talk anybody out of this one. I've tried every form of diplomacy avaliable to me." Ever so slowly he got out of the car and reached for his own pack in the back of the vehicle.
Winston sideglanced him as they walked along. "Three quarters of my chocolate sauce is missin' because of your diplomacy, Peter." He spread out his hands. "Besides, we do gross stuff all the time. Why is this so different?"
"The parts, Winston. Real parts. People parts. They make me feel so…so mortal."
"But we are mortal!" injected Ray.
Peter sighed. "I guess defeating demigods and major demons and various Armies of Darkness, one after another, and coming out of it with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises can give you an unhealthy 'god' complex."
"But how 'bout that time when that destabilizer backfired on Egon? That was nasty. I'll never forget that scream…"
"Yeah. There was that," he agreed, losing himself for a moment in thought. "But he's still in one piece. And not…pieces…yeesh…" He thought a moment, then had to snicker. "I think the worst thing that upset him about that wasn't necessarily the pain of getting destabilized, it was the fact that he wouldn't have anything to donate to science if he stayed that way."
"True," said Winston wryly.
"Awwww, relax, Peter," said Ray, patting Peter on the shoulder. "A little bit of mortality once in a while'll be good for your psyche."
"Yeah, but…humility doesn't make for good publicity photos!" Peter argued.
Ray looked down again at the ground, his mind full of figures and numbers from the company's history he couldn't muddle through. "I still think we're missing some important information here. I wonder if they called Janine and she took extra notes or something...that we don't have anymore." His last words were particularily pointed.
Peter's communicator rang inside his pocket. "Gee, telemarketers all the way out here. Maybe I can give 'em a nice looooong free psychoanalysis while we're so happy to be going inside," he said, causing the other two to roll their eyes.
As it was still rather early for most of the guests to arrive, including those from their table, Janine nervously made herself busy by examining the dinnerware arrangements. In front of her were at least four glasses of various sizes, and silverware after silverware along each side of a stack of many different sized plates and dishes.
Daunted by the extremely detailed place setting, she held her forehead. "Oh nooooo, " she moaned. "I have no idea what I'm doing here! I'm going to have a terrible time!"
Egon leaned over. "Just remember to work from the outside in for each course and you'll do well." He pointed to each glass. "Water, champagne flute, red wine, white wine."
She sighed with a note of relief. "That'll help."
"Place settings are rather simple when taken in context."
She grinned. "No, I meant the fact about the free champagne and wine!"
Egon sighed in elegant resignation.
Now that some of the particulars would be easier to handle, she turned to admiring the fine china, beautiful stemware, and the elegant table coverings and napkin holders. She thought about the rest of the guys, and what they could possibly be doing. She felt sorry for Ray—he was probably working triple time filling in for the loss of Egon while doing calls. He's such a good kid, Janine thought. Dr. Venkman better step up to the plate while there's only three of 'em there. He'll hear it from me if I don't call him on the communicator and check on 'im first.
Janine jumped in her seat, and snapped her fingers. She immediately got Egon's attention, and brought a hand up to and inside his coat and vest, to his more than mild embarrassment, though complete compliance. Digging around to find his shirt pocket, maaaaaaybe a little longer than she had to, she pulled out the thin black communicator. And while I'm checking on Dr. Venkman, he can do a little favor for me!
She flipped on the device and paused while it connected.
"Dr. Venkman at your service!" she heard, through the static.
"Dr. Venkman, I have a request of you should you be so kind to indulge me."
"Janiiiiiiiiine!" he cooed. "My, my my. Nice to hear from you after so long. We were just discussing you, and no, it wasn't about a pay raise. But don't mind us, we're just tackling the nasty stuff while you're, no doubt, enjoying your Savignon Blanc and pheasant under glass."
"Don't patronize me, Dr. Venkman!" she hissed. "Actually, quail is on the menu tonight, and, more importantly, I need some info." She turned away from Egon to try to talk as confidentially as possible. "Tell me everything ya know about Cicero's work about Damocles!"
"Why suuuuure, Janine. But ya know, there's no such thing as a free lunch…well, maybe for you and Spengs, but, I can fix that."
"What are you askin' me about now, Dr. Venkman?"
"What I want to know first from you is—" and she could tell he was cupping the phone with his hand in mock privacy, "—if you've found out whether it's boxers of briefs for Spengs yet."
Janine gritted her teeth in rage. She was ready to blow.
"And doooooon't try to fib your way out of it, missy. Yaknow I've seen him change too many times so I'll know if you're lyi—"
"You…..! You…" she shot up out of her chair and slammed a fist down onto the table. "You unrepentant pig!" she yelled into the communicator at the top of her voice. Banging on the table to her words, she continued. "You put Winston or Ray on this thing right now! Or when I get home, I'll—"
Noticing the eerie silence of the dining hall, Janine turned around…and met the gaze of about a hundred shocked patrons, including Egon.
She smiled innocently, waved timidly, then silently, and ever so slowly, sat down in her seat, and eventually the background noise picked up in volume again. She attempted to cover her face with a hand, elbow propped up on the table. She closed her eyes, wishing she could just disappear into that cute champagne flute. I'm going to have a terrible time, she kept mentally repeating to herself.
"Or you'll what?" she heard Peter dare her through the communicator.
"Put Ray or Winston on…right…NOW!" she hissed.
"Awwww," Peter sighed.
"Yeah, Janine, whatcha need?" she heard Ray ask after a short pause.
"Ray! I'm so glad to hear your voice. Tell me everything you know about Cicero's work about Damocles!" she asked, this time much more quietly. She glanced over. Egon's complexion was returning to normal after turning a shade of, well, ghostly white.
"Ohhh…Damocles. No problem!" said Ray. "In a nutshell, he was basically a peon in the Emperor's court. He saw all the riches and treasure and food the Emperor had, and when the Emperor caught wind of it that he said that it must be the life with all this around him, he offered to let him rule for a day. Damocles said, 'Suuuure!' and right away dove into the Emperor's riches. Then the Emperor suspended a sword right above Damocles' head, hung by a single horsehair, to get it through to him the immense pressure he lives under every day, though outwardly, he has wealth and power beyind anyone's dreams! Damocles then said, 'Naaaaaah, this isn't for me!' and then happily turned the title back to its orginal bearer."
Janine hummed in thought over the communicator.
"That help?" asked Ray.
"Yeah. I still don't get it," she whispered, stroking a finger alongside the elegant, intricately-patterened bone china plates, "but at least I know now what story Dr. Spengler was talking about."
"Hey, Janine?"
"Yeah, Ray?"
"Do you remember any details about the ProbeCorp case? Peter fed your notes about it to Slimer," and in the background she could have sworn she heard Winston saying something in the background about chocolate, but there was too much static to be sure. "So we're out of luck trying to come to a conclusion about what to do here."
Janine scowled in the thoughts of her detailed entries getting fed to the little green ghost, but then turned around to face the table, and brightened. "Oh, yeah. Early in the morning after you guys went out a few days ago they called back. They said that in 1979, there was one guy that wasn't officially an owner, but he was locked up soon after because money and other stuff started to go missin'. I think he managed it from maybe October to early December. He wasn't listed as an 'official' owner because he was an accountant and was just handling it or somethin' until someone else volunteered or bought the lab ownership. Think the guy I talked to said his name was Fiero. Fell over from a heart attack soon after gettin' sentenced. Does that help?"
Ray paused for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that does help a lot. I think that'll tidy this right up! Thanks, and have fun!"
Janine turned to Egon when he whispered, "ProbeCorp?" to her. When she nodded, he prompted with the flick of a finger to use the communicator.
"No problem, Ray. Oh, wait, here's Dr. Spengler."
"Ray?" Egon said. "I want to make sure you don't do too much damage to the lab while you're there. I've heard they're on the verge of some useful medical breakthroughs there. Yes. Take your utmost care in dealing with the entity." With a final "mmhm" he shut off the communicator and returned it to his shirt pocket.
Ray shut off the communicator as they entered the gates. "She said that there was an accountant who did iffy paperwork for them while they were changing hands. He wasn't listed as an official owner. By the time he was starting to embezzle, the law caught up to him and had him removed,and then the new owner took over in late December!"
Winston stroked his mouth in thought, as they proceeded to the front door. "This ghost in here might be that guy trying to mess with the lab."
Ray pointed a finger at Winston. "You bet! He's angry at this place, and rooted here, because it was the last thing he tried to accomplish in his life before he died!"
Winston nodded in understanding.
Ray continued. "Only thing is, Egon said this place was ready to make some medical breakthroughs, so we have to do minimal damage possible."
"Hmm." Winston replied. "That's gonna be tough goin'. People that angry to come back like this usually don't go down all that easily."
Peter listened with unusual attentiveness, though he was the last to go through the front doors.
It was mid-afternoon, but the whole lab was silent. Various organs in jars lined the walls. Microscopes, still with petri dishes underneath, had remained untouched since Ray had called to clear out the facility. A few skeletal systems, and half-dissected corpses, lay on tables.
They made their way in in silence, walking past side labs and a few displays along the walls of charts and graphs.
Suddenly, Peter gagged, then had to double over to catch his breath. His hand slid along the wall, holding himself up as he dragged himself along.
Winston and Ray switched their packs on. The rising electrical sound of the packs, and Peter's out of control breathing, were the only things heard in the lab.
"W—wait guys…I think I…can handle this…" gasped Peter.
"You? You can barely stand!" observed Winston.
Peter held up a dismissive hand as he arose. "Minimal damage…angry ghost…I got this." He straightened with herculean effort, and walked forward, alone. Stopping to turn back once, he said, "And the more…I talk, the less sick I'll get."
Ray whispered to Winston. "You think he wants to use some psychology to help the ghost disperse peacefully?"
Winston nodded slowly, beginning to look uneasy with the surroundings himself. "I—I think so…"