THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THE TWO MYSTERIES When Mr. Green asked Tami and I to step into the conference room, and showed us a surprisingly THIN folder, he said he wanted us to review the folder, and just give him our impressions. When we agreed, Mr. Green left us alone, to read the file, Tami and I found that it read more like a short story, or ghost fiction, than anything else. Strange noises, lights, shadows, etc. The kinds of things which fill pulp fiction book shelves, year round. In this case, there really wasn't much of a "file", at all. Tami even suggested that we could resolve the case, without even leaving town. What surprised us, though, was Mr. Green's reaction, when we informed him of our conclusions. To our surprise, though, Mr. Green said "But, you MUST go! They are expecting you". This is when Tami and I looked at one another, then looked, questioningly, at Mr. Green. We knew that, with Mr. Brown, such a call would not have been made, until AFTER we agreed to take a case. This left the question of why Mr. Green had "jumped the gun". Thankfully, our pilots had topped off the planes fuel, as they did, each time we landed, at any airport. They maintained that this was "just in case". As we began the case, all four of us (Tami, myself, and our two pilots), were more than a little suspicious of how "pushy" Mr. Green was, to get us started. The senior pilot even asked "Whats his hurry? Hollywood will be there, whenever we arrive". While the take off went smoothly, the co-pilot came back to our area, and asked if this were an emergency flight. If it were a crisis, the pilots would "pour on the gas". I told the pilot that there was no need, no emergency, and, therefore, no need to waste fuel. We could coast to Hollywood. Once we were "clear" of the ground, Tami went on-line, then said "Thats odd". When I asked "Whats odd?", as Tami typed, she said "This studio we are headed for. Its web-site has been completely erased. As has the content, of their on-line videos. If I didn't know better, I would say that someone is trying to erase the studio from existance". When I "Googled" the studio name, I came up with dozens of "hits". Trouble was that, everyone I checked came up empty. The agency file was no help, either. Not with just a handful of "I saw/heard something", reports. In fact, the file was more of a cut-rate travelogue than an incident file. For the first time, Tami and I seemed to be entering a case, "bllind". No idea what we would find, when we arrived. Since our flight was on "fuel conservation", Tami and I sacked out, and left the running of the plane to the professionals. Hours later, my "alarm clock" turned out to be a steel beam, which came crashing through the side of the plane. A moment later, Tami let out a shriek, and the co-pilot and I found her trapped bbehind some protruding steel struts. When Tami asked "Whats going on?", the co-pilot said "I really dont know". Shortly after the plane came to a stop, the pilot called, over the intercom "Emergency Evac, NOW! The ramp is down. GO!". Realizing our pilot was not into game-playing, we took his word, and rushed out oof the plane. A moment later, the co-pilot, Tami, and I were standing on a studio landing field, with the pilot diving out of the hatch, behind us, while saying "Hit the deck!". Since we knew this man was as "stable" as they come, we did as told. Turns out, we had good reason to take his word. Once we were, fairly, certain that the plane would not explode, we inspected the fuselage, and found the reason for the pilots concern. One of the fuel tanks, under the port wing, had been sliced, almost in half, by a huge chunk, of metal. Why the tank hadn't exploded is anyones guess. On the starboard side of the plane, the steel beams stuck out, of the planes side, like gross add ons. By this time, fire trucks, and a fuel truck, had arrived, ut not to fill our tanks. Instead, the truck was to pump our tanks dry, to prevent possible explosion. Our pilots stayed with the plane, to oversee the process, while Tami and I were "escorted" to the studio managers office. When Tami and I met the man, and he asked "What do you think?", and Tami responded by asking "Has this happened, before?", the man asked "Weren't you briefed, before your arrival?", Tami responded by handing the man the casefile, saying "This is what we received". The studio boss took one look, at the folder, and said "This isn't even a drop in the bucket, of what we are dealing with, here". When Tami said "I'm afraid to ask, but, what else is there?" The studio boss said "Just wait until sundown. Then, you will see what we are dealing with, and why we contacted Mr. Brown". While we waited for sundown, Tami and I watched as our plane was tractored away from the primary landing field, and to another field, as a safety precaution, before repairs were started. When I checked with the pilot, I saw that he was enraged, with an airport "official", and the two were engaged in a shouting match. The pilot insisted "You listen here, pipsqueek, I was on the radio, with your tower, and TOLD that I was cleared to land, HERE!". When the ground official ssaid "Thats impossible. We tried to raise your plane, for ten, solid, minutes, to warn you off. You never answered our calls." Our pilot responded "I know what the tower told me. I would not have landed, without permission". The ground official said "You DID land, and without permission. Under FAA guidelines, I have the right to impound your plane". When the pillot growled "You wouldn't DARE!", then added "You just wait until I speak to Major Lipton, about this". To this, the ground official asked "Major Who?" Our pilot almost shouted "Major Lipton. Major Charles Lipton, of air traffic control. HE will straighten you out". The ground official looked shocked, as he asked "Are you sure of that name?". Our pilot said Yes. Now call him down here, or I will call him myself". When the ground official seemed at a loss, for what to say, our pilot asked "Are you going to call him, or do I?" The ground official said "That will be hard to to" When our pilot said "There's a phone, right over there. CALL him or I will" This is when the ground official said "If we want to call Major Charles Lipton, we need a Ouija Board, not a telephone. Major Lipton died, at the tower, in 1981. Stroke, if I remember right". When our pilot asked "Then, WHO was I talking to, on the radio" The ground official woulld only say "I wish I knew". When our flight recorder was played back, our pilots voice was as clear as a bell. On digital playback, though, Tami caught a hint of something else, which is why we "washed" the recording, including removing the pilots voice, before another voice whispered out of the background. When the ground official listened to the modified recording, the look, on his face, was purse shock, and dis-belief, as the voice whispered things like "Wind at 10, from the south. Clear to 500 feet. Use runway..." When the official picked his chin off the floor, he said "It CANt be. He has been dead, for 30 years. It was myself who suggested "Is it possibble that someone mimicked his voice, or made a patch tape?" The ground official asked "What for? Everyone, around here, knows Lipton is dead". When I played back the recording, again, listening for electronics, Tami was the one to say "There is more here". This is when we took the recording back to the ships lab, and worked on the audio, while the mechanics repaired the planes tank, and body work. Wouldn't you know it, military planes would have thicker skin, than other planes. Probably to repel bullets and bombs. To replace the damaged fuel tank, the suggestion was made that we use a locally made tank. This was rejected because "Hollywood does not have any extra tanks. The only ones, on-site, are attached to other planes. These planes were civilian, not military grade. As a result, our pilot would have to order another military grade tank. Then came the question: "Who is going to explain, to the brass, what happened to the original tank?" Our retired, Air Force, pilots said "Yes, WE will talk to them, if, in return, YOU will install the tank". As for the panels, which make up the fuselage, of the plane, the decision was made that it would be cheaper, easier, and faster, just to replace the damaged panels. This work was accomplished, even as Tami worked on the flight recorder audio, and I surveyed the damage, to studio property. While I performed this task, more than a few wrkers would confide in me "If you think this MORNING was something, just wait until the sun goes down". None, however, would say more than this. By mid-afternoon, I noticed that workers had ceased making coomplete, permanent, repairs, and began making just temprary repairs. When I inquired about this, the response was "Why bother? Anything, not fully repaired, by sundown, will be the first "targets", of the evening". When I asked if the workers meant local vandals, the lead worker said "You dont understand. These vandals aint human Not anymore, atleast. They do love smashing things, though Especiallly already damaged stuff. They LOVE damaged stuff". When the sun reached the horizon, a wrker shouted "horizon", then, as if an air raid siren had gone off, or nuclear attack had been announced, almost the entire crew raced for their cars, with the last one departing, while the sun was, still, halfway above the horizon. Tami and I woulld, soon, regret having stayed behind. As the sun "vanished", over the horizon, the wind began to increase, and various items began to shake. (Ofcourse, by this time, Tami and I had grown immune to natures eccentricities). What we were not immune to, though, was objects, smalll and large, lifting off the ground, and hurtling about. What struck me as odd was how the only objects affected seemed to be objects in use by our customer, the production company. Trash cans, and so forth, which belonged to others, were un-affected. It might seem impossible, but that is what happened. Soon, Tami and I were hit, and even cut, various times, by flying debris, but we were hurt no more than we had been, on previous cases. When the noises started, Tami and I moved into the "chaos", as we tried to find the source of the sounds. We could hear various conversations, along with groans, growls, and so on. Still, our goal was to find answers, noot to "play it safe". As Tami and I pressed on, something began blocking out the stars, and the skyline. Soon, the studio would be under a pitch black sky Then, the "fun" started. The bulbs, in nearby street lamps, began to exploode, even as alarms, in the vicinity began screaching. As the street lights went dark, though, Tami and I held hands, even as the darkness surrounded us. Soon, although I could fell Tami's hand, in mine, her form was reduced to a bllack outline. When she seemed to be whispering, I told her I understood her desire, not to call attention to hersellf. That is, until that facew appearred, amid the clouds. It started out looking human, llike a mans face, then it distorted into something much scarier. With a roar, which would scare a lion, the face blasted me with a wind, which blew me several feet back, while the voice roared "Get OUT!". After that, the face dissolved, and the chaos died out. This is when I asked Tami, who was, still, just a dark shadow, how she was doing. When her voice came to me, though, it was not next to me. It was off to the side, somewhere. When the studio emergency lights turned on, and llit the area, I found Tami, nearly 100 yards away. When I asked "If you were over there, then who was standing beside me?" Tami said "Thats my question By the way, HOW did we get so far apart? We were holding hands". With the days events, seemingly, at an end, Tami and I retired to our plane, and made our report, to a furious-looking Mr. Brown. Via satelllite link, Mr. Brown told us that Mr. Green was, now, on "Disciplinary Leave", for sending agents out, on a mission, without proper briefing. As Mr. Brown said "It seems that our Mr. Green has not been happy, with your recent successes Mr. Green expressed, to me, his fears that, if the two of you continued your work, that even more of this "questionable" work, might come our way". Now, Tami and I understood why the client had been so surprised, by our lack of preparation. Mr. Green had been praying for our failure. When Mr. Brown saw how bruised Tami and I were, he gave us a choice: We could drive ourselves to the nearest hospital, for examination, OR Mr. Brown would call in a doctor, to visit US. Tami and I agreed to the hospital solution. The next morning, both Tami and I slept late. Being up, for most of the night, between the attack, and the hospital waiting room, had taken the strength right out of us. To maintain our cover, with the hospital, Tami and I had "fibbbed", saying we had been hurt doing some construction work, at a studio. The staff must have heard this, before, since they asked no mre questions. By the time an exhausted Tami, and I, had returned to the plane, from the hospital, we found a fax waiting for us. It was short, and to the point: "Mr. Green has resigned". Somehow, this felt nice to read, but, after almost 24 hours, of running, both of us were ready for some "sack time". When Tami reported us in, later that day, Mr. Browns secretary sent Tami an "encrypted data packet" The secretary would say "I couldn't send it earlier since these "packets" are designed to self-destruct, if not decoded within a specific period of time. When Tami examined the contents, of the data packet, she understood why it was so sensitive. After examination, Tami did what she did, best.. Working the computer while I did the foot work, of checking the studio grounds, for new vandalism. Just as Tami was compiling an "initial report", of our first encounter, and while the computers processed her research requests, I kept busy, with helping the clean up, and construction crews. What a mess the "force" had made. Sure, the studio had devolved into a low-budget, porn, place, but I remained amazed at how many sets the studio maintained. As a result of my spending the day helping the crews, I would be granted access to the studios "food wagon". The crew said it was the least they could do, in reutnr for my help. I did manage to learn some things in the process Things such as where the "ghosts" were most active, and how often the producers office was "assaulted", with flying debris. I also learned about the numerous times that filiming had to be closed down, when props went flying, at performers. I also learned that, so far, as many as nine performers had broken contracts, for features, after nearly being killed, by flying props. It was as the crew members said, there was n clause, in any contract, requiring a performer too risk death, to complete work. By mid-afternoon, I was just working my was into the confidence, of the most senior staff member, when Tami called me back to the plane. When I asked "Whats up?", alll Tami would say was "important case. We are "Wheels Up", as soon as you get here". Thats my Tami. Although neither of us was an "expert" at "ghost linguistics", Tami had made a point oof memorizing some basic, Air Force, terminology. By, she wasn't kidding, either. By the time I reached the plane, the engines were pre-flighted, and we had clearance for take-off. We were moving, even as the hatch was locked and, within 30 seconds, of my belting in, we were airborne. WHen I asked, all Tami would say was "Mr. Brown said this one is a TOP priority. He promised to bbrief us, enroute". I was about to call forward, and ask the pilots, about fuel, when the co-pilot came to us, saying "I hope you dont mind, but, we have to divert to rendezvous with an Air Force tanker. After we do a mid-air re-fuelling, we will be off, to our destination". When Tami and I asked "And that is?", the co-pilot said "Mr. Brown will brief you. Our orders are to deliver you, as fast as possible". It was obvious, that we were in a hurry, since the engines were running hard enough to be heard, even through the insulation. Even as we rendezvoused, with not one, but three, tankers, Mr. Brown came on the conference panel. "Sorry to drag you away from an active haunting, guys", he began "But, I feell this takes priority over hunting down some old ghosts, at a porn studio". When Tami asked "What the story?", Mr. Brown looked more serious, than ever, as he said "Child abduction, Arson, Vandalism, and a scarecrow". When Tami and I were like "What?" Mr. Brown said "Sending you an encrypted packet, now", then added "Be careful, oon this one. If we have some psycho, on the loose, grabbing children, while dressed as a scarecrow, who knows what this person may be capable of". Tami was the first too notice that, one we rendezvoused, with the tanker planes, our engine noise went very soft. And, sure, it took the contents, of alll three tankers, to fill our tanks, but, after all, this wasn't a Lear jet. After fuellling was completed, Tami and I put on our nise-cancelling headsets, again, as the pillots pushed the pllane to its limits, in order to reduce our flight time. By the time we arrived, thoough, both Tami and I were stumped by what we read, in the reports. According to most of the filles, anytime a crime was committed, people reported seeing a scary looking scarecrow, nearby. After the first children had gone missing, and care-givers, and parents, reported having seen a scarecrow, nearby, people became more watchful. What made Tami and I want to laugh, though, were the "reports", where "witnesses" claimed they watched the scarecrow carrying off children. When Tami cross-referenced childrens ages, thinking that the children were, in fact, teens, and that this was a practical joke, she found out that the average age, of the children turned out to be 7-10 years. Much too young for any type, of human sacrifice that we could think of. Then, I had a thought. What about human trafficking? Maybe, the children were being stolen, for sale? If this were true, though, then WHY would the culprit risk exposure, and arrest, by stealing children from a playground? On the other hand, though, the arson, and vandalism, made much more sense. According to the police reports we received, the "accelerator" was a home brew, similar to moonshine. This is why the police were noot looking for stolen gasoline, oil, or kersene. Add to this the fact that a few witnesses said they thought they saw the scarecrow light matches, just before homes went up, in flames, and we were pretty sure this was no "phantom" case. Strange thing, though, about the fires. Loss of property? Yes. Loss of life? NO. When we landed, a deputy met the plane, sending the sheriffs regrets, and saying there was something, new, the sheriff wanted us to see. When we reached the crime scene, we found "graffitti", on the windows, and interior surfaces. Not drawings, or curse words Tami would say "I recognize some of this, from earlier research. If I am not mistaken, this house has been marked, for violence". What puzzled police, most, was the means of entry. Instead of credit cards, or crow-bars, the intruder had used a brass tool. Then, there were the bits, of straw, left here and there, as if they had fallen out of clothing. After Tami saw the scene, she went outside, and began talking to locals, in her usual way From our very first case, together, Tami had learned the value, of informal conversations, and how to sift these, for clues. She found this much more effective than the standard, police, approach of "in your face". While Tami went about her chatting, I got out my bicycle, and began riding the area. In "no time", I linked up, with some local kids, who wanted to show me some "really strange stuff". Granted, some of it WAS strange, including some things, which looked like "spell casting" places. What made me chuckle, though, was when one of the kids showed me an "underground" magazine, which, he said, belonged to his father. The magazine was called "Witches Exposed", would turn out to be a version of Playboy, with a witchcraft theme. Sure, I admit I thumbed the pages, curious about the contents, but what I found, about 3/4 of the way through, sent me back, to the plane, and our internet connection. (Thankfully, Tami and I have seperate work stations). Still, Tami was suspicious, then as I called up the web-site, she had no-sooner asked me if we had time, for this, when I used the sites menu to find what I had seen. When I pulled it up, on-screen, then asked Tami her thoughts, her first question was "When was this published?" There, on the monitor, marked "Fiction", was a drawing, of a scarecrow, and a story, of a scarecrow spirit, which was terrorizing a village. As Tami and I read the accompanying article, Tami was amazed at how the "details", of the magazine story, matched witness reports. Everything, from burning, fiery, eyes, to that terrible, barritone, laugh, was in the story. Even the detail, about straw falling out of the clothes. After I tolld Tami that I would bet that this is where our scarecrow had come from, Tami reviewed her notes, then listed a few problems. In the story, and pictures, the scarecrow wore the same set of clothes, while our "witnesses" reported the scarecrow, in a variety of clothing. Another thing, which didn't fit, was that, in the story, the scarecrow stolle livestock from farmers. "Our" scarecrow was stealing children. Also, the fictional scarecrow liked to dnce about, after setting barns on fire. The "REAL" scarecrow was burning houses down. When I tried to send a message, to the publisher, about the article, the response was "Subscribers receive full access to all information". Although Tami made it clear that she woulld be opposed to such a waste of money, in other circumstances, she tempered her opposition with the possibility, of a lead, when I sent an electronic payment to the magazine. A payment which not only gave me full access to the site, and the article, but a six month access pass, to the site, as well. Not only did the pass give me the authrs information, but it also gave me a list of both prior, and upcoming, stories. As for the magazines photgraphy, I was amazed at how good some of the models costumes were. I just dont know why the photography upset Tami, so much. As for the author, turns out the scarecrow story was just the most recent in a series, where the author was playing new twists, on age old tales. Via tele-conference, Tami and I presented the author with our findings, to date, the author reminded us that his work was, in deed FICTION. He insisted that he was in no way mized up in anything illegal. After this, when Tami and I presented our findings, to the police, even I was surprised by police reaction, both to the story, and the magazine. As the investigator told us, he knew of atleast 25 local men, not including himself, who subbscribed to "Witchhes Exposed". He agreed that he had read the scarecrow story, and dismissed it, as pure chance, that anyone would mimic the story. When I mentioned that the story did not tell how the scarecrow was, eventually, stopped, the investigator said "According to the story, the creature just vanished, after it was found out. It was never destroyed". When Tami asked "Dont you find it odd that someone is taking the story seriously?" thhe investigator said "Look, miss, there are plenty of copy-cats, out there. My job, at the moment, is to try to locate the missing children". With that, the investigator "dismissed" us, and Tami was like "Back to the investigation". This is when I asked her "If you had hot merchandise, to sell, how would you dispose oof it?" Tami would say "I would NOT do what Greg did, when he wanted to sell some stolen goods". (Tami's friend, Greg, had bought some stuff, which he really didn't need, from a woman Tami suspected was a thief. When Greg listed the items, on ebay, he was arrested, within 24 hours, and sentenced to five years, for "possession of stolen goods) Although everyone knows that "human trafficking" is illegal, in America, I wondered about "underground sources". Thanks to the internet, anyone can have a web-site, and sell almost anything. Over the next few days, I bought very short passes, to various web-sites, including bridal, dmestics, and so on. Any place a person hmight try to sell stolen property. Although I found a site called "Choose a child", which had outrageous dues, of $500.00 per month I would be relieved when I would report that this pass was money wasted on nothing. None, of the kidnapped children were on any web-site I could find. When the police phoned the plane, saying there was a report, of remains being found, Tami and I no-sooner raced, to the scene, when the investigator said "False Alarm. The bones are from a cook-out". Animal, not human. What no one had figured out, so far, was why, if the first child was taken, six weeks before, and right after "Witches Exposed" printed the story, and if the children were not dead, where were the children, and WHy was there no ransom demand? How was arson, and vandalism, tied into any of this? I know it was a stupid thing to do, but, being a bit of a Wiccan, myself, I decided to reach out, to the Wiccan community, and asked anyy information they might have, about the case. To my surprise, a Wiccan wrote back, saying they were following the case, and that we should stop looking for someone "dressed" as a scarecrow. It would seem that the Wiccans had cast a spell, which, they sai, showed that the scarecrow was not alive person. As for the missing children, they were, safely, with the Master of the Universe. When I asked what the scarecrow was, the Wiccans said it was the spirit, and had been conjured, using a faulty spell. If the spell had been cast, correctly, it would hhave removed the "obstacle", of a spouse, from a relationship, so that another person could form a new couple. According to the Wiccans "When the spell was mis-cast, it let loose a spirit, whose mission is to remove ALL "obstacles", from peoples lives". "Obstacles", such as children, homes, cars, etc. The spirit thought its job was to remove these "barriers", to peoples happiness. When I asked "How do we un-do the spell", the Wiccans said "Working on that". That night, Tami and I were awakened, by the hull alarms Someone was banging the hull, and rocking the plane. On the camera's, Tami, myself, and our pilots, saw the scarecrow smacking its "fists" against the hull, while trying to roock the pllane. When the pillot flipped a switch, releasing knock-out gas, from under the wing, we watched as the mist surrounded our "visitor". What we found bizzarre was that the scarecrow did not pass out It just kept hammering away. Oddly enough, it only left AFTER our pilot called the local plice, to repoort it. After the pilot called the police, the creature just walked away, and disappearred. Now, it was obvious that someone wanted us gone. No doubt, we were getting close to catching the scarecrow. Two days later, while Tami and I were out, on "patrol", we observed, gave chase to, and even fired some special ordinance at, the scarecrow Man! Was that character FAST, nimble, and athletic. It was like witnessing an Olympic gymnast. What Tami and I noticedm ost, though was that the scarecrow seemed to have changed clothes, again. Two nights later, and by sheer coincidence, Tami and I made a digital file recording, as we watched the "scarecrow" douse another house, in the moonshine, then light a match, toss it at the fuel, then stand there, to watch the flames. When I approached the figure, saying "You know, the real scarecrow would be dancing about, right now". The head turned toward me and, maybe I imagined it, but I thought the eyes blazed of fire, even as fiery breath shot out of its mouth, and blew me a good twenty feet away. Thankfully, while I was doing this, Tami had alerted the neighbors, who brought fire extinguishers along, and saved the house. When the investigator arrived, he made a point of dis-regarding all statements, saying he was not about to list "supernatural" as the cause of the fire. Although Tami and I had caught the creature, again, on recording, the investigator dismissed this, out of hand, saying we, probably, planned the whole thing. Tami and I were, still, on location, when the new issue, of "Witches Exposed" came out. This issue came out with the first, of a two-part story, about a couple, mixing "business" with "pleasure", while investigating a "haunting". Personally, I think the story would have been much better IF, as with Tami and I, the focus was on solving the case. Not focused on what the author described as our "airborne bedroom". Another difference was that, in the story, our propeller-driven, cargo, plane was changed into a jet-engined jumbo jet. In the story, over half of the plane was devoted to the bedroom, and the female "researcher" spent her days, and nights, thinking of ways to seduce her mate. Ofcourse, the woman was represented as a blond, with ample "assets". By contrast, my Tami had brunette hair, and petite assests. The male character was a cross between Conan the Barbarian, and the Terminator. The spirit, which the couple was pursuing, had been called up, by a coven, of "wicked witches", who wanted revenge for ill treatment, by locals. Ironically, I noticed that all of the magazines models, including the cover model, were the exact opposite of the old hags, represented in the story. I would have estimated the models ages between 19.5, and 21 years, with most looking fresh out of high school. It was as if the magazine was trying for a balance between scary stories, and its models. What was baffling, though, was how closely the fictional "case" followed our own case. In fact, it cut off exactly where our last report had ended. Coincidence? What Tami and I noticed was how, when we found accounts, of witchcraft usage, in the area, in the past, the investigator "blew this off", as well, saying "Bring me facts, and we will discuss them. I am not interested in "fairy tales"". This is when Tami began to wonder about the investigator. Why was he so determined to undermine us? Although, mysteriously, the scarecrow stopped attacking children, it continued its "rampage", of arson. Always to houses, never to cars, or other places. No rhyme, or reason. What scared locals was whhen insurance companies began cancelling policies, due to the arsons. I was just amazed at how FAST the insurance companies "bailed out", on home owners, who had paid regular premiums, and maintained good faith. Although home owners insurance was, usually, a requirement, for local home purchase, the neighborhood association decided to "waive" this clause, since their own homes were being abandoned, by insurance companies, as well. Less than a week later, Tami and I observed the investigator, having a "heated" discussion, with an un-known person. Trouble was, we were too far away to see if the person was a hippie, or a woman, with long hair. What we could see was thhat the investigator was, clearly, upset, during, and after, the conversation. Tami found more clues, pointing to witchcraft, at the local libbrary. In fact, froom what Tami would report, there were some volumes, not yet on the internet, about a former coven. According to Tami's source, it seems that, long before the current housing had been built, at this location, there had been a coven, in the area. "It began, basically, as a group of healers, and potion makers. Nothing threatening, beyond a few "visuals". In fact, according to the records I hhave found, the female Wiccans were local mid-wives, nurses, and so on. The males were more oof the tradesmen, farmers, and general laborers. Then, the church came. Finding a population, of "un-repentent souls", thhe church staked a claim, in the area, and began working to "convert" the "evil" witches. After the church caught, and tortured, several "witches", into confession, locals withdrew support, for the Wiccans The Wiccans were, then, forced to flee the area, in fear for lives, and families. Before the Wiccans left, though, they placed a spell upon the area. I have not, yet, learned exactly which spell, but it seems it had an effect. Shhortly after the "witches" were driven out of the area, the remainder, oof the local population, left the area, as well. Without the healing powers, of Wicca, no one felt safe. As a rsult, the church would find itself governing an area, made up of empty shops, and abandonedd farms. "From what I can find out, eventually the area reverted to forrest, until it was cleared, for a stadium to be built. For some reasoon, though, the construction never proceeded. In the end, the land was cleared, again, this time, for the current housing development.". When Tami reported this, via tele-conference, to Mr. Brown, his question was "So, WHO awakened the spirit, and WHY?" Neither Tami nor I had an answer, for this. After two more, now un-insured, homes, went up in flames, the pressure was on, to find, and stoop, the arsonist/scarecrow. Un-officially, even the police were surprised, by the arsonists athletic abilities. The creature was able to move at remarkable speeds, and to elude all conventional traps. Even tazers seemed to have no effect on it. After yet another house went up, in flames, the last of the locals began packing up, and placing homes on the market, for sale. Problem was that, by that time, the media was aware of the arsonist, and the public had been informed. As a result, there was NO interest, in buying homes, in the area. In fact, oonly one, anonymous, bid, was made. A bid to buy up the entire area, at "bargain basement" prices. Well, with no clients left, to pay our fee, Tami and I were just packing up, to leave, ourselves, when our co-pilot brought a signal fire to our attention. It was distant, off to the port side. The co-pilot guessed it was just beyond the housing area. The co-pilots guess was that it was HUGE, though, if it could bbe seen from our plane. To investigate, Tami and I agreed to do a stealth reconnaissance, before departing the area. When we reached the fires location, half an hour later, we saw one figure, standing in silhouette, beside the fire. Upon closer examination, the figure turned out to be a man, and he was holding something. When we inched closer, Tami and I saw him reading, aloud, from a book, but we saw more. He was holding something, like a doll, in one hand, and we saw the police chief, bound and gagged, next to him, on the ground. This is when Tami and I realized that the chanter was the investigator. As we listened, Tami whispered "He's chanting a termination spell. He wants something to stop, or end". The investigator called out "Oh, ancient oone. Your servant has served me well. Now, it is time to end the "call", and send your servant back to you. I give you, also, this sacrifice, as my thanks". When something hideous arose from the flames, with a screaching wail, Tami and I froze, not knowing what was happening. The creature swooped on the sheriff's bound form, which twitched, and convulsed, for a moment, then went limp Then, the creature turned on the investigator. The investgator got off two rounds, before the creature was on him, and he twitched, and went limp, himself. The creature then lept back into the flames, and the roaring fire died out, as if doused with water. With our primary source, now, dead, Tami asked about our next move. I suggested a short stop, at the police station. With both the chief, and the investigator, mout of the way, there would be no one "minding the store". Besides, the station was on our way back, to our plane, anyway. Although there would be several locks, between us, and what we sought, thankfully, some of Tami's other friends had taught her how to pick alll manner of locks. Once inside the station, we checked the investigators desk, and, in the bottom drawer, we found what we sought. A contract, under which a corporation was willing to PAY a fixed amount, for local land. The fixed price meant that the investigator had to secure the land, at much lower prices, in order to turn a profit. This was only possible, when locals sold out, after insurance companies cancelled policies. As a result, prices dropped to "rock bottom". According to the investigators calendar, he was due to meet his buyer, in 48 hours time. The man was due to wipe out his savings, the next day, to buy up the land, then recover his savings, plus some profit, 24 hours after the sale went through. When Tami and I returned to our plane, we gave Mr. Brown the news. He seemed dis-heartened to learn that a police officer could do such a thing. He asked "How can the public trust the police, with this type of person, on the force?" After our report, to Mr. Brown, Tami and I were surprised, by our next conversation. One of the leaders, of the Wiccan community, came on the teleconference, to address us. "Just wanted to call and let you know that our coven intends to travel, to your current location, and, with the help of some other, local, covens, purify the area. This way, such a thing should never be allowed to happen, again." When Tami asked "What are witches doing using video-conferencing?" The Wiccan leader said "Welcome to the 21st century. We survive, by keeping up with the times". By morning, our plane would be in-bound, back to the studio, and, this time, the pilot would ignore the ghost, and landed our plane at the safe airfield. Still, Tami wondered WHY a person, with such a good, stable, jobb, would risk everything, for a few extra dollars. A few days later, while still working the studio haunting, Tami and I received another video message, from the Wiccans. "Just wanted to let you knwo that the area has been cleansed, and that we have closed all of the portals, that we could find. There may be others, which we cannot find, but they probably wont be any trouble". After this, Mr. Brown came on-line, to say "Thought you would want to know. Now that the "thig" is taken care of, our clients are moving back into their homes. They have paid off our fee's, and they thank us, for our work". Now, it was time to find out who, or what, was haunting the film studio. The first, real, piece, of luck, we had was when Tami found out that the studio had been founded by a group, loosely branched off of the Puritans. Although Tami could find noo footage, of what they filmed, she did find a few reviews. The main feature, of each review was "This feature is not worth the money, except to committed church members". After the Puritan founders went bankrupt, the studio was used, by the war department, for World War One printing, of official documents. After the war ended, the studio was purchased, by some Baptists, who made some short "Jesus is the way" style films. Regardless of religious influence, the Baptists, also, went bankrupt, in the earliest days, of the Great Wall Street Crash, of 1929. During the depths of the Great Depression, other, religious, groups, attempted to "resurrect" the studio, but as Tami pointed out, "The venture continued to fail, because the target audience was, always, limited to "born again" Christians. During World War Two, the failing studio was taken over, again. This time, to produce "Loyalty", and "Vigilance", films. After World War Two, the studio closed, again. This time, it remained closed, for about three decades. After that, a televangelist re-opened the studio, to produce "proper, Christian, films". The televangelist called out all 70's, and 80's, shows, and cartoons, as "the Devils work", saying these programs had "no redeeming value". According to the televangelist, it was each persons duty, to spend all off-duty energeies, working to convert the public to the lords work. In order to keep the studio operating, the televangelist listed the studio as a cross between "tax shhelter", and "loss leader". In time, though, the board of directors, got tired of "pouring money" into the studio, without any profits to show for their efforts. As a result, without consulting the "minister", the board of directors accepted a $5 million offer, for the studio. No oone is sure whether it was the sale, of the studio, or the question, of whom it was sold to, which caused the "minister" to suffer a heart attack All that is known is tat, once informed of the sale, the "minister" went into "cardiac failure". When Tami and I checked the dates, of death, and the start of paranormal activity, the time lapse was such that it couldn't be ignored. When I spoke to some stage hands, asking what had changed, one of the oldest, and most senior, workers said "Thats about the time the bboss introduced a new line of themed videos. As I recall, some of the first video's were called "Naughty Nuns, and "Preachers Pets", etc." Upon my return to the plane, I pulled up "Naughty Nuns", then clicked on "similar video", even as Tami asked "Got something?" I told her "I think so". Sure enough, a list, of some two dozen, religion-themed, porn videos had been filmed at just about the time the trouble started. When Tami checked her own research, she said "It fits. Things started going weird after the porn turned religious". When I tied this, to the "misiters" death, suggesting "Maybe, it is the minister, trying to let the studio know that he does not appreciate the studio making porn. When Tami asked "That doesn't make any sense. If he was offended, by the films, why didnt he show up sooner?" I suggested "Maybe, he was't aware, or, maybe, he ddidn't care, as long as the fillms were generalized". When Tami asked "What changed his mind?" I suggested the use of religion, in the videos. He must think that the studio is committing sacrilege, with the videos". At that moment, a loud, male, laugh, penetrated the plane, as Tami and I rushed to find its source. We joined a group of workers whho were staring UP, at a black cloud, with a glaring, male, face, on it Then, with extra bbass effect, the face said "You have learned my secret. Now, take these, and be GONE!". Personally, I was happy, when the owners called down, to the studio, cancelling the renewed effort, to produce the religion-themed videos. The performers were happy, as well. When Tami suggested "Why not try producing some religious thhemed videos. Maybe this would make the ghost happy". The studio boss said "Young lady, I checked on those previous, balance, sheets, when I took over this studio. The only thing keeping the studio open, at that time, were offerings, and donations. The former owners were one step, from bankruptcy, for many years. No, if we dont produce some profit, with our current stock, this place is as good as closed, right now". Welll, if nothing else, Tami and I coud tell Mr. Brown WHO was haunting the studio, and why. Ofcourse, Mr. Brown would question us, saying "I doubt that a religious, or spiritual, man, would haunt a location, regardless of its use We need a more plausable explanation". Tami would suggest "If you have one, lets hear it". Mr. Brown would say "Complete your report, with thw words "Case Un-Resolved", then get ready for take off". When Tami asked "Where to, this time?" Mr Brown would say "That witch, who helped you, with the scarecrow case. Now they want OUR hhelp, with another case". The co-pilot would come to us, saying "Wheels up in five minutes. Mid-air re-fuelling, in 15 minutes". Our "airborne motel" was, really, earning its keep. So were its pilots. As for Tami and I, there was no rush, to return home, so we just sat back, to enjoy the ride. Five minutes later, we were airborne, and ten minutes after that, we were "in formation", withh three, aerial fuellers, and, to our surprise, a wing, of fighters. Couldn't tell if they were f-16's, or f-18's. Once our fuel intake was complete, the fighters followed thhe fuel planes, while we broke off, to travel, to our next case. What a life. Seeing America, all expenses paid, and our own private, "flying carpet", to take us there. Could life get any better?