Marty rematerialised in the freezing room beaming.
"Jane, Alan's on his way - Jane?" Frowning, he looked around. "Jane, don't play silly tricks on me...Jane?" His gaze drifted downwards, and rested upon the still unconscious form of the young woman. "Oh no! Jane! Jane!" He went over and crouched down beside her, frustrated he couldn't shake her. He cursed himself for not seeing the men come back. He turned to see the door to the room had been shut.
"Jane, wake up!"
Jane stirred slightly, but her eyes remained shut. Marty, his worry increasing with each passing moment, blaming himself for getting her into this. He looked hard at the door, but there was no inside handle or any way to unlock it from the inside. Typical. Right, he decided, he was going to get his own back on the men who'd desecrated his grave and hurt his friend. Marty disappeared to see who or what was outside.
"Look, she'll freeze to death in there. Just tie her up. By the time we're finished, there'll be nothing here for them to find."
"No. She's seen too much. The second they find out what's happening, they'll stake out every cemetery, check up every relative and have dogs patrolling faster than you can say Dixon of bloody Dock Green. No. She'll just freeze, then we tip her into the Thames. God knows they'll never find her; by the time she's reported missing, she'll have floated out to sea."
"But it's murder! Smuggling I don't have a problem with - "
"You never had a problem with handling the dead before, Gerry."
"That's different. They've been dead for years. Nothing to do with me. She's just a kid, what's the big deal?"
The two men were medium height, of stocky build, and one, Gerry, paced the dank room, while the other sat on a chair, leaning back with his black Doc Martens up on the table, a cigarette in hand. Marty watched them, certain there were more of them involved. Sure enough, two more men came in, dragging a struggling figure between them. It took a moment before Marty realised it was Alan.
Throwing the medium into the room, one of the men, a blond, said he'd found him trying to climb the gates. Marty sighed. Now it really was going to pot.
"Tie him up. Put him in the next room; there's plenty of rats in there. Cockroaches too if he's lucky," the one Marty thought of as 'Doc Martens' leered. He reached inside his jacket to pull out a small pistol. Marty looked on in alarm as he began to check the ammunition, while the other two tied Alan up with what appeared to be electrical wire.
"Alan!" he called, as he was hustled roughly out of the room. Following, he waited until the two men had left before trying to talk to the medium, who looked bruised and weary. The darkness was making it difficult even for him to see.
"Ah...young Marty...there you are," croaked Alan, as Marty crouched near him so he could see him.
"What happened?"
"It appears, Marty, that I have been foiled in my attempt to telephone the police. Where is Jane?"
Marty hung his dark head, ashamed he'd left her alone.
"She's locked in the cold storage room. If they leave her there she'll die!"
The distress in his voice was audible, and the medium could tell.
"It's up to you, now, Marty. You can do it. Give them hell," he said encouragingly. "You're very fond of her, aren't you?" he asked, trying to lighten the situation, despite the cold and his predicament.
Marty looked up sharply at the question, then struggled for an answer.
"Well... I... she's Jeff's niece..."
Alan chuckled hoarsely.
"Only you know the answer to that question, young man, and you'll never get to tell her unless you go and give them a dose of poltergeist activity!"
Marty knew a prod when he heard one, and found himself overcoming his fatigue with a sense of dark anger and a burning desire to set the record straight. He'd show them.
"Remember, Marty, focus everything you have! Focusing is the key!" called Alan as Marty left the room.
"What's that grand-dad yelling about?" muttered Gerry, having finally stopped pacing, but still visibly nervous.
"Sod the bloody granddad, get over here and help sort these out," snapped Doc Martens, as they weighed and sorted the gems into bags.
Marty approached the group, gathered near the windows which afforded little light apart from the small torches and candles they had set up. The apparition's expression was dark, menacing. His anger was close to boiling point, but he knew if he wanted to really achieve anything he would have to keep in under control.
Focus, Hopkirk, he told himself. Even though they couldn't see him, Marty narrowed his eyes as they turned navy and allowed himself a smile.
"This one's for digging me up," he snarled, and threw his focus to the windows, concentrating his hatred and rage onto them. Fists clenched in front of him, the sheer psychic force was too much for the old paned windows to withstand, and they shattered inwards spraying the entire group with deadly shards.
"Jesus Christ!" yelled Gerry, as they brought up their arms to their faces, ducking to protect themselves. The glass flew with such force some of it embedded itself in their clothes, and into the skin, shredding it. Yells of pain and surprise echoed through the warehouse, startling the various insects and other creepy-crawlies into their respective hidey-holes. Marty disappeared briefly to check on Jane.
"Jane!"
"Martin..." came the whispered reply, "Martin... I'm so tired... so cold..."
He could see her skin turning blue, and her teeth were chattering constantly. He'd never wanted to hold anyone so much as he did now. Just to reassure her it was going to be all right. At least, he hoped so.
"You've got to stay awake, Jane! Do you hear me? You've got to stay awake!"
"I...can't..." her eyelids flickered, she was having problems keeping them open. Marty knew that if she fell asleep, she would almost certainly die. He looked around in desperation for anything to help her stay awake. Then he spotted the bag of gems on the floor.
"Jane. Jane!"
She jerked awake again, shivering.
"What?"
"See that bag? The gemstones?"
She nodded slowly, and reached out to pull them towards herself.
"I want you to sort them out for me, Jane. Stay awake, OK? I want them all sorted out into piles and counted. Can you do that for me? Don't fall asleep on me now!" Another nod, as Jane fiddled to open the bag.
"I'll...try..." she chattered, as Marty smiled affectionately at her.
"I'll be back to check on you," he said sternly, and promptly disappeared to follow up on his first act. Inside, he wasn't confident he could do anything to get her out. But he was going to damned well try.
Back in the room, the men were still picking the gems from the glass, cursing as they did so.
"Shit, Craig, how are we gonna sort the glass from the diamonds?" complained the blond haired one to Doc Martens. "How'd they just go like that?"
"Do I look like Bamber bloody Gascoigne? Shut up and get it sorted. We've got twenty minutes before he makes a pickup."
"S'cold, innit? Glass always breaks in the cold," replied Gerry, as he picked up his torch from the floor, the shards crunching under his feet. "Jesus, me hands are cut to sodding shreds."
"Good," Marty replied, as he made his way across the room.
Alan needed to get free to get Jane out of the freezer before she fell into a hypothermic coma. By his reckoning, he didn't have much time. He decided to target Doc Martens this time, who was fishing for a cigarette in his jacket pocket. A piece of jagged metal which had been lying on the floor suddenly hurled itself at Doc Martens, catching him squarely on the forehead. With a startled yelp, he crashed to the tiled floor unconscious. The other three turned in horror.
"What's going on? I don't like this...Someone's watching us...they're playing with us!"
Gerry, nerves already on edge, backed into a corner, eyes wide, torch gripped between both hands. His breath was rapid. If anyone needed targetting, Marty thought, it was him. He looked up into the high ceiling. There were probably things up there, tennis balls kids had been playing with and gotten stuck in the rafters, rusty nails, all kinds of things. Things he could shower on them. He materialised up in the rafters, and started blowing, creating a cloud of sawdust, nails and various bouncing objects that descended upon the three still left standing.
Gerry cowered in his corner, hands over his head, as the hail of dust and nails rained down. The other two went to run from the room, but Marty used his powers to move the table Doc Martens had had his feet up on and tripped them up, winding them.
"That one's for Jeff!" he yelled, even though they couldn't hear him, but it made him feel better anyway. He reappeared next to Alan, who was freeing himself from his bonds.
"How are you doing that?" asked the ghost, who was relieved he had something less to worry about.
"Harry Houdini, of course," replied the medium, "Play poker regular Sunday evenings. Beats me every time, the rascal," he winked at Marty through his cracked lenses. "I'll be free in a moment, just need to get the coast clear so I can get Jane out!"
"You got it."
Marty was going to need everything he had for this one. Leaving Alan to his own devices, Marty set about throwing various objects, including the largest of the gemstones, about the room to keep the three men occupied and unable to leave.
"Ha! Smuggle
this!" snorted the apparition, as he hurled an emerald in Gerry's direction. It hit him like an uppercut to the chin, and he staggered, stunned. "It's alright, Alan! I can keep them under control! Just get Jane out of that freezer!"
The medium shambled in, his woollen hat skewiff, his clothes torn from being dragged off the gates. He crouched down to crawl under the table blocking the doorway, and dashed to the door of the cold storage room.
"Hurry!" yelled Marty, above the din of crashing glass and gemstones and the terrified curses of the three men left conscious - but not for long. One went to grab Alan, but Marty moved the table with such force, it jammed him up against the wall, pinning him. He gasped for breath, as Alan, struggling with the latch, undid the door and put the piece of metal Marty had not long used to render Doc Martens unconscious to keep the door open. Marty followed him to the door, making sure neither of the others made a move.
"Jesus, Gerry, what is this shit?" yelled the blond, struggling to find his torch among the wreckage.
"I don't know, man, I don't know!" moaned Gerry in response, ducking down as a diamond the size of a carriage clock flew at him, hitting the wall with a loud
clack.
Alan found Jane, lying next to four piles of precious and semi-precious stones, each a different colour. She was not moving. Quickly, he dragged her out, and Marty started to panic at the sight of her lifeless body.
"Jane!" he yelped, his anguish increasing. Alan hissed at him to be quiet, while he checked her pulse.
"She's comatose, we have to get an ambulance," he said shortly. Marty closed his eyes briefly, knowing the next couple of hours could mean her living or dying.
"Well, go on then!" he flapped, frustrated. Alan paused, then headed towards Gerry, who remained in his corner, looking around himself, unsure of where the next attack was coming from.
"Does one have you have a mobile phone?" the medium demanded of him, knowing full well they would. Everyone seemed to have one these days. Gerry hastily yanked one from an inside pocket in his blue jacket, and held it out, shakily.
End of Part Four
Requiescat In Pace: Part 5
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