"So lemme see if I've got this straight," Janine Melnitz said, leaning across her desk and resting her chin on her knuckles. "You died in 1742."
"Correct," said the spectral figure hovering a few inches above the floor of the firehouse. He- for it was male- wore a brilliant red uniform, or one that would have been brilliant red had she not been able to see the inside of the firehouse doors through his chest.
"And you were a, a-" She looked down at her notes. "Paymaster in King George the Third's army?"
"Correct again, Miss." The ghost smiled, a brief, awkward thing, and scratched at his scalp. His wig shed a few bits of powdery ectoplasm.
"Died when your ship and all its cargo went down in the East River, you said. By the part where the Hell's Gate Bridge is now." Janine shook her head. "That's a nasty part of the river, ya know. There was this guy who tried to swim around Manhattan Island last year. Nearly drowned when he got to the Hell's Gate."
"Frankly, Miss, I'm rather surprised that anyone could possibly consider such a swim to begin with. In my day, such a feat would have been attempted only by the most desperate of men."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sayin' this guy was exactly what you'd call sane. . . " She adjusted her glasses. "Anyway. Am I reading you right? You're trying to hire the Ghostbusters yourself?"
"Trying," said the ghost, "is the operative word. Why are you making this so difficult?"
"Oh, I'm not making it difficult, believe me. You want difficult, you come back in half an hour and talk to Dr. Venkman or Dr. Spengler. I'm just trying to head off the guys' questions before they start."
He sighed, a drafty, gusty sound.
"Sorry," said Janine. "Anyway. What are you planning on paying with? I don't know if you noticed on your way here, but we don't exactly take English money any more."
"No, but you do continue to trade in gold," the ghost pointed out. "His Majesty's paymasters were not sent out from Britain with holds full of paper money, Miss Melnitz."
Janine blinked. "Are you trying to tell me that there's a whole ship full of gold at the bottom of the East River?" she demanded.
"Several, actually." The paymaster's ghost smiled. "I have been authorised to speak on behalf of the other Royal Paymasters. That is why I wish to hire your employers. The greatest thief in the world, a man named Thomas Hariot, has discovered the precise location of our unfortunate watery graves. Even now, Hariot is in the process of raising a small army of supernatural creatures I cannot even begin to identify- for the express purpose of stealing his Majesty's gold."
"A-huh." Janine nodded, reaching into her desk drawer. "Hang on a second, will ya? I think this rates getting Dr. V on the Nextel . . ."
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"Correct," said the spectral figure hovering a few inches above the floor of the firehouse. He- for it was male- wore a brilliant red uniform, or one that would have been brilliant red had she not been able to see the inside of the firehouse doors through his chest.
"And you were a, a-" She looked down at her notes. "Paymaster in King George the Third's army?"
"Correct again, Miss." The ghost smiled, a brief, awkward thing, and scratched at his scalp. His wig shed a few bits of powdery ectoplasm.
"Died when your ship and all its cargo went down in the East River, you said. By the part where the Hell's Gate Bridge is now." Janine shook her head. "That's a nasty part of the river, ya know. There was this guy who tried to swim around Manhattan Island last year. Nearly drowned when he got to the Hell's Gate."
"Frankly, Miss, I'm rather surprised that anyone could possibly consider such a swim to begin with. In my day, such a feat would have been attempted only by the most desperate of men."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sayin' this guy was exactly what you'd call sane. . . " She adjusted her glasses. "Anyway. Am I reading you right? You're trying to hire the Ghostbusters yourself?"
"Trying," said the ghost, "is the operative word. Why are you making this so difficult?"
"Oh, I'm not making it difficult, believe me. You want difficult, you come back in half an hour and talk to Dr. Venkman or Dr. Spengler. I'm just trying to head off the guys' questions before they start."
He sighed, a drafty, gusty sound.
"Sorry," said Janine. "Anyway. What are you planning on paying with? I don't know if you noticed on your way here, but we don't exactly take English money any more."
"No, but you do continue to trade in gold," the ghost pointed out. "His Majesty's paymasters were not sent out from Britain with holds full of paper money, Miss Melnitz."
Janine blinked. "Are you trying to tell me that there's a whole ship full of gold at the bottom of the East River?" she demanded.
"Several, actually." The paymaster's ghost smiled. "I have been authorised to speak on behalf of the other Royal Paymasters. That is why I wish to hire your employers. The greatest thief in the world, a man named Thomas Hariot, has discovered the precise location of our unfortunate watery graves. Even now, Hariot is in the process of raising a small army of supernatural creatures I cannot even begin to identify- for the express purpose of stealing his Majesty's gold."
"A-huh." Janine nodded, reaching into her desk drawer. "Hang on a second, will ya? I think this rates getting Dr. V on the Nextel . . ."