I frowned. “Could the owners have finally found a way to dismiss the haunting, and reclaim their property, after all these years?”
“Unknown,” said Julien. “But unlikely. If they had, they’d be here now, dancing and celebrating and boasting how they’d finally won. And they were never more than a pair of minor business men. To do something like this . . . would take real power.”
“Hold that thought,” I said. “I spy a pair of well-dressed city types heading in our direction, who look a lot like owners to me.”
Julien looked round, nodded sourly, and gestured for the Troops to let them pass. The two men strode up to us and glared right into our faces, which was brave of them. They both looked prosperous enough, in an obvious sort of way. Two old men, well into their seventies, in good suits, coats, and gloves. Men with hard faces and harder eyes, and flat, determined mouths. The kind of business men who hadn’t been talked back to in far too long. The taller of the two men produced his business card with a snap of the hand, like a conjuring trick, and thrust it at me. I refused to even glance at it, on general principles, so he pushed it right into my face. So I took the card, tore it into little pieces, and scattered them over him like confetti. Start as you mean to go on, that’s what I always say.
The tall man’s face went pale, then flushed a dangerous shade of purple. “We are Tattersol and Vane!” he said angrily. “We own this most valuable property, and we have a legal right to be here! I am Tattersol, this is Vane. Show him the documents, Mr. Vane!”
While Vane hurriedly fumbled important-looking papers out of his briefcase, I took the opportunity to look the two men over carefully. Tattersol was well dressed in a casual sort of way, while Vane was well dressed in a careless sort of way. Tattersol had thin black hair with pronounced white streaks, while Vane was almost entirely bald. Tattersol had a hulking, powerful presence, while Vane had a shifty, detached presence. I was irresistibly reminded of Badger and Mole from The Wind in the Willows, but kept the thought to myself. I was Walker now. Dignity at all times. I was prepared to be tactful and polite, right up to the point where someone got on my tits, and I said To hell with it, and booted someone somewhere painful. I beamed on Tattersol and Vane in my most avuncular fashion.
“So what can the Authorities and their newly appointed front man do for Misters Tattersol and Vane?”
Vane finally fished out a handful of legal documents and shook them at me meaningfully. I ignored them, so he thrust them at Julien, who looked at him in a disturbingly thoughtful manner until Vane lowered his papers and looked away. Tattersol glared at Vane, then at us.
“We have a legal right to this land! Isn’t that right, Mr. Vane?”
“Of course we do, Mr. Tattersol! I have all the necessary documentation right here!”
“Quite so, Mr. Vane. We are here to demand access to this location, our property. We also insist that you do absolutely nothing that might assist the ghost of the Hawk’s Wind Bar & Grille to return. It is gone, and we want nothing more to do with it. Do we, Mr. Vane?”
“Nothing at all, Mr. Tattersol! We wash our hands of it, at long last. The law is on our side in this matter!”
“We are the law, inasmuch as there is law,” said Julien, entirely unmoved by the two old men shouting at him. “This is a crime scene, and the crime is under investigation. If only to ensure that other buildings don’t start disappearing, too.”
“None of the other buildings are ghosts or phantasms!” snapped Tattersol. “We demand access to our property so we can . . . protect it! Isn’t that right, Mr. Vane?”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Tattersol! We have documents! Signed contracts! The law stands four-square behind us!”
“When has the law ever mattered, in the Nightside?” I said, honestly curious.
“Ah, but this is business law!” said Tattersol, with the air of someone closing a trap. “Contracts must be honoured! Or no-one could make a profit here!”
“He may be obnoxious, and far too loud for his own good, but he has a point,” said Julien.
“Exactly!” said Vane. “What?”
“I was saying you had a point,” said Julien.
“Oh! Yes!” Vane glared at me. “You had better watch your step, Mr. So-called Walker! Or I will have you hauled up before the Better Unnatural Business Committee!”
“You made that up!” I said. I looked at Julien. “Tell me he made that up.”
“Unfortunately not,” said Julien.
“And the Authorities have a duty to enforce business contracts!” said Tattersol, with the air of someone slamming down an ace.
“He’s right,” said Julien. “We do. There are very old agreements to that effect.”
“But I am Walker,” I said. “And I don’t have to agree to anything. In fact, I think that’s part of the job description. Mr. Tattersol and Mr. Vane, while I accept that your legal position is undoubtedly correct, I also find you both guilty of obstructing an on-going investigation and getting on my nerves in a built-up area. I have work to do, and you are getting in the way. So be good little business men and go away, and we’ll let you know whatever we feel like letting you know. In special legal writing. Won’t that be nice? Wave bye-bye, or I’ll run you both in for disturbing my peace of mind.”
“The abuse of authority comes naturally to you,” murmured Julien. “You’re going to make a fine Walker.”
Tattersol’s face was going through a series of dark colours that really didn’t speak well for his blood pressure, while Vane had gone white with shock. And then they both began to splutter loudly.
“I will have your heads for this!” yelled Tattersol, his impeccably gloved hands clenched into fists. “I will have you dragged through the streets by horses! I will ruin you, and your family, and everyone you know and care about!”
“We’ll take everything you own!” said Vane, just as loudly. “Do you have a house? We’ll seize it! Do you have a wife? We’ll throw her out on the streets to starve!”
“Oh no,” Julien said quietly.
“A wife!” said Tattersol, thinking he saw a weak spot. “We’ll sell her to a sporting-house, to sell her body for other men’s pleasures! We’ll . . .”
I used an old magical trick then, one I mostly use to take the bullets out of threatening guns, and ripped every filling, crown, implant, and piece of bridgework right out of their mouths. They all disappeared in a moment and fell in a silent rain from my outstretched palms. Tattersol and Vane clapped their hands to their bloody mouths and made loud noises of shock and distress. They looked at me, horrified, and I looked back at them.
“Never threaten his wife,” said Julien.
“Get the hell out of here,” I said, “before I decide to show you a similar magic trick, involving your lower intestines and a row of plastic buckets.”
They couldn’t leave fast enough. Some of the watching crowd applauded, and some decided they were urgently needed elsewhere. Most of them carried on watching. It takes a lot to impress a Nightside crowd. I looked at Julien, who was shaking his head sadly.
“What?” I said.
“Oh, nothing, John. You’ve bullied and assaulted two old men who were technically in the right, very successfully. What do you have planned for an encore? Kicking a puppy?”
“Have you got one?”
“John . . .”
“All right; perhaps I did over-react. But remember; they were business men. Which makes them fair game, in the Nightside. It’s probably time we started culling them again, to thin back the numbers.”
“You see?” said Julien. “That, right there. That is the difference between how you and I operate. I use reason, you favour brute force.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” I said. “They’re gone, aren’t they? In fact, if you look down the street, you can still see them going, at some speed.”