"You know," he said, "I never got to ask you: Where are you from, Johnny?"
Janosz mind reeled. "Uh, the Upper West Side."
Spengler glanced at his PKE meter. "This entire room is extremely hot, Peter."
Janosz turned to Venkman. "What exactly are you looking for?"
Venkman offered him a totally insincere, reassuring smile. "We'll know it when we find it. You just sit tight, Johnny. This won't take long."
Stantz pulled out the shoebox-shaped Giga meter. It began to click in his hand. The needle began to quiver and quake, eventually sliding to the extreme right-hand side of the small screen. Stantz looked up. Inadvertently he had aimed the Giga meter directly at the Brobdingnagian-sized portrait of Vigo the louse. Venkman joined Stantz.
He looked up at the painting of the fierce warrior. "This is the one that made ga-ga eyes at Dana."
Venkman walked up to the portrait. He stared up into Vigo's dull eyes. "Hey, you!" he called. "Viggy! Look
at me! Down here! I'm talking to you, stud! Hey! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Stantz and Venkman watched the painting for any sign of movement.
On the canvas Vigo's eyes remained motionless, focused lifelessly on something far off in the distance.
Stantz sighed. Venkman's tactics weren't working. Venkman, however, refused to give up. He whipped out a small camera and began darting to and fro at the base of the painting, snapping away.
"Beautiful, beautiful, Viggy. That's it. Work with me, baby. Just have fun with it."
Venkman snapped away. After a full roll was used, he stopped his photography riff and turned to Stantz. "Okay, so he's playing it cool." Venkman shrugged. "Let's finish up and get the heck out of here."
Stantz nodded. "I'll get one more reading."
Venkman walked off, disgusted. Stantz, left alone in front of the towering painting, scanned the canvas one last time with his Giga meter. He started with the feet and worked his way up the legs to the torso, then aimed the meter at the neck. Finally Stantz found himself gazing at the face of Vigo.
Vigo's eyes slowly flickered to life.
Stantz felt his body stiffen.
A fierce red light welled up Vigo's evil eyes.
Stantz felt the power of Vigo enter his eyes and burn itself right down to the depths of his very soul.
Stantz stood before the painting, transfixed. Deep down within him he knew what was happening to him. He knew he should turn away, but the conscious being known as Ray Stantz was gradually fading away, enslaved by a new evil being. Stantz's childlike eyes narrowed to reptilian slits. His open, optimistic face began to grow taut. His lips, capable of a smile at the most dire of
occasions, slowly twisted themselves into a terrifying sneer.
Stantz felt an arm on his shoulder.
He blinked.
His body regained fluidity.
"Now that's one ugly dude," Winston said to Stantz.
Stantz shook his head. "Huh? What?"
Stantz made a concerted effort to figure out what had happened to him during the last minute or so. Everything was a blank.
"You finished here?" Winston asked.
"What? Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure," Stantz said, his legs still feeling wobbly.
"Are you all right?" Winston queried. "You coming down with something?"
Stantz managed a feeble smile for his good and loyal friend, Winston. "No, I'm fine. I just got lightheaded for a second there. Let's go."
Winston aimed Stantz toward the exit door. "Okay, buddy, but if you feel like calling it an early day, it's okay. I'll pick up the slack."
Stantz nodded woozily. "I appreciate that, Winston. I really do."
The Ghostbusters left the portrait of Vigo and the figure of Janosz Poha behind them.
Janosz turned to the painting of Vigo and smiled.
Soon, he realized, the Ghostbusters would stand in their way no more.
19
The Ghostbusters walked down the museum's front steps toward EctolA.
"There's definitely something going on in that studio," Spengler surmised. "The PKE levels were max- plus, and the Giga meter was showing all red."
Winston agreed. "I'd put my money on that Vigo character."
Venkman smirked. "Yeah, that's a safe bet."
Venkman and Spengler climbed into the rear of the EctolA. Venkman glanced at Stantz before shutting the rear hatch. "You and Spengler see what else you can dig up on Vigo and this little weasel, Poha. Those two were made for each other."
Stantz said nothing. He nodded. He was getting a headache. A bad one.
"Want me to drive?" Winston asked.
"No," Stantz said. "I'm fine."
Stantz slid in behind the wheel. Winston eased himself into the passenger's seat.
A strange smile played across Ray Stantz's face as he turned the ignition key and slammed his right foot down on the gas, sending the Ecto-2 screeching away from the curb.
Winston gave him a nervous look.
Stantz sent the ambulance skidding and swerving around the streets of Manhattan as he ostensibly headed back for the firehouse. His eyes seemed vacant. His face was devoid of any awareness of the commotion he was causing all around him. Stantz swerved suddenly. He slammed his hand down on the car's horn.
"Idiot!" he shrieked to a passing motorist.
He cut off another car. "Move it, you jerk!" he roared.
Winston glanced into the rear of the EctolA, where Venkman and Spengler were being tossed around like rag dolls, along with their ghostbusting equipment.
Stantz began to pick up speed. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty miles an hour. He roared through red lights, nar rowly avoiding pedestrians.
Winston looked at Ray, beads of perspiration drib bling down his forehead. "Going a little fast, aren't we, Ray?"
Stantz glared at Winston. His eyes were deranged, unfeeling. "Are you telling me how to drive?" he asked, sneering.
"No, I just thought—"
"Well, don't think!" Ray bellowed.
He stood on the accelerator, fishtailing in front of a bus and two cars.
In the back of EctolA, Venkman and Spengler con tinued to bounce around.
"I want to talk to our mechanic about these shocks," Venkman muttered, his head slamming into the roof of the auto.
Venkman and Spengler clung to the safety straps above their heads, twirling like aerial stars in a circus.
In the front seat, Winston moved from panic level to out-and-out we're-gonna-die mode. He turned to Stantz. "Are you crazy, man? You're going to kill somebody!"
Stantz emitted a devilish cackle. He turned to Winston and smiled demonically. "Wrong," he announced. "I'm going to kill everybody]"
Stantz sent the EctolA sailing off the street and headed for a small public park.
He carefully aimed the vehicle for a large tree.
Winston's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched the tree loom larger and larger.
At the last possible moment he reached over and coldcocked Stantz with a strong right hook. Stantz's body went limp. Winston reached over and, yanking the wheel, slid his left foot across the front of the seat and slammed on the brakes.
The car lurched to a halt. It barely grazed the tree.
The four Ghostbusters tumbled out of the car, dazed and shaken but unhurt.
Stantz dropped to all fours, shaking his head. It was as if he were awakening from a deep, long sleep. He staggered to his feet, his senses still swimming. He glanced confusedly at Venkman.