They finally established themselves on a southbound platform, deep under the surface. The light was as sharp and fierce as ever, the silence still heavy and unrelenting; and nothing moved anywhere. The three ghost finders bustled around, helping set up Melody’s equipment on a semicircular standing frame. Making rather more noise than was necessary, as though to impose their presence on the quiet. Melody oversaw the installation of every piece of equipment, cooing over some of them in a disturbingly maternal way. Their separate power source was a small black box that sat happily on its own, on the platform floor, tucked under the frame. JC really wanted to ask what it was, and how it worked, and how such a small box could power so much equipment . . . but he knew he wouldn’t understand any of the answers, so he didn’t bother. Melody looked a lot happier as, one by one, her instrument panels and monitor screens lit up, along with any number of flashing brightly coloured lights. Though he would never admit it, JC found the lights comforting. It wasn’t real equipment unless it had bright flashing lights.

But the moment they hit the platform, all three of them had to fight a constant irrational urge to stop, turn sharply, and look behind them. Even though they knew there wasn’t anything there. Something was watching them. They all felt it, in their various ways. JC glared at the dead platform surveillance cameras, Happy kept a careful watch on the shadows, and Melody worked even harder to get her sensor arrays up and working. They were all of them, after all, professionals.

Melody fired up her various computers and smiled happily as, one by one, they came on-line and muttered busily to themselves, reaching out through state-of-the-art short- and long-range sensors to test the situation on more levels than anyone but Melody could comfortably handle. Her fingers flew across one keyboard after another as she darted back and forth before the flickering monitor screens, eyes bright, teeth worrying at her full lower lip as she drank in rivers of information as though it were the finest wine. Melody was in her element and on the job, and as far as she was concerned, all was right with the world.

Melody wanted to be the first scientist to put a ghost under the microscope and find out how it worked.