Gethsemane Hall Read Online Free PDF Page B

the generations had turned the house into the Lourdes of ghost-hunting, and yet it had never been properly investigated. Pertwee was surprised that this Peter Adams had been given the go-ahead. In the past, the owners had always shot down any request. She had tried several times, then given up, especially since she had begun to acquire a media profile. It wasn’t huge, and it wasn’t lurid, or so she hoped, but it was there. It was a regular thing, now, for one of the tabs to call her up whenever they wanted a scientific-sounding gloss on a ghost piece they were doing. They were using her, and she knew it. She used them right back, the heightened visibility opening doors and bringing people and opportunities for investigation to her that she might never have had otherwise (though no doors to the science community, oh no, never there).
    Just over three months ago, the payoff had been huge: a high-profile haunting underscored by her authentication of the event. She was officially a Quoted Expert. She couldn’t deny she was pleased. The problem was if the owners of a house weren’t big on the media. In the past, the Grays had been private to a fault. The dowager Lady Gloria had died five years ago, though. Perhaps the heir was more open. She should have checked, rather than assumed the new regime would have the same policy. And now some amateur had beaten the professionals to the punch and had gone and either tripped over his own clumsy feet or committed suicide on the premises. The Hall’s name was public now and would be stained forever.
    Unless you do something about it. Unless you dig up the spectacular, tabloid-worthy proof that there is nothing wrong and everything right with this place. Unless you risk everything, and go public for a cause that’s bigger than you or your precious reputation. And is there really any of that to lose?
    “We’re going,” she told Corderman.
    “Where?”
    “Devon.”
    “To the Hall?”
    She nodded. “Tomorrow morning. We’re taking all the gear. All of it. If you forget something vital, I’ll break your neck.” But she was smiling . I’m coming to you , she thought, picturing the Hall. I’m coming to save you.

chapter four
    the cleaner
    Gerald Fretwell looked amused. Meacham couldn’t blame him. He glanced out his office window before leading her out and paused, gazing down at the cluster of reporters camped out in front of the Millbank entrance to the British Security Service’s headquarters. Fretwell’s already cheerful face broke into a wide grin. He was a small man. His grey hair had receded to a token statement on the top of his head and was buzz cut. His eyes bulged, giving an air of permanent, jaded surprise at the silliness of the world. “Are these yours?” he asked, pointing.
    “Probably.”
    “Seen many?”
    “At the airport. Outside my hotel. Here.”
    Fretwell laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. His smile was kind and old with experience. “Welcome to the world of leaks.”
    Meacham sighed. “No surprise. Korda wants us to be seen behaving well.”
    “You have my sympathy, dear heart.” With that, he led the way from his office.
    The MI-5 building had been refurbished and updated, but it was still old, still on historical registers, and its massive stolidity put the lie to the modern equipment. Meacham kept expecting to see manual typewriters and carbon paper instead of laptops and laser printers. Fretwell led her down to a large evidence room. The space was sterile, fluorescent-cold. Pete Adams’s possessions were laid out on three large tables. “Thanks for doing this,” Meacham said. “I’ll try not to leave too big a footprint on local turf.”
    Fretwell waved her caution away. “Don’t be silly. To be honest, we’re happy to follow your lead.”
    Meacham raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?” Since when did one agency defer to another so happily?
    “Oh, don’t misunderstand. Our Peter was indeed the subject of jurisdictional