Page 26 of Into the Fire

Vic sat on the corner of Ross’s desk. “I’m not saying that I’m skeptical about the military’s ethics…”

“Of course not,” Ross snarked.

“And it wouldn’t be the first top-secret experiment to go tits-up because it didn’t work,” Vic continued. “But I always wonder with programs like this whether they were honest about none of the efforts working.”

“Given a long history of secret programs being revealed years later, I’d say that’s a reasonable level of suspicion,” Ross said. “Don’t forget, ruling something out is as valid a research conclusion as ruling it in.”

“Did the military give up on goats and turn their attention to ghosts?” Vic questioned.

“Maybe it’s one of those infamous typo things,” Ross joked. “Honestly, I’d think that communicating psychically with spirits would get more useful wartime results than billy goats. Ghosts could be anywhere. Goats, not so much.”

Vic chuckled. “I guess we’ll see what your contact has to say. I’ve got to wonder whether, intentionally or not, all that energy also strengthened the landvaettir, the fire salamander, and the dark ghosts. I’ll fill you in when I get back.”

Vic looked at the note from Ross and took a deep breath, psyching himself up. He thought for a moment about the best way to approach the question and decided he’d start with the truth, or at least, some of it.

“I’m looking for Gillian Murphey,” Vic said when someone answered the phone.

“I’m Murphey. Who are you?” the gruff voice on the other end demanded.

“Detective Vic D’Amato with the Myrtle Beach Police,” Vic replied.

“Whaddaya want? I’ve already given a donation,” Murphey replied.

“It’s about Operation Specter Cipher,” Vic said. Murphey was quiet for long enough that Vic wondered if the call dropped.

“Yeah? Why do the police care about something that happened a long time ago?” Murphey asked.

“It’s a long story. Can we meet for lunch? My treat. I won’t take up much of your time,” Vic offered.

“I rarely turn down an offer for lunch, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to give you what you’re looking for.” Murphey’s tone softened just a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” Vic assured him. They agreed on a time and place to meet the next day, and Vic let out a relieved breath when he ended the call.

Gillian Murphey was already waiting for Vic in the lobby of The Beach House, a popular waterfront lunch spot. Even without Ross’s description, Vic would have picked the man out from the crowd. Despite being in his seventies, Murphey was slender and stood ramrod straight. Everything about him spoke to his military past, from his posture to the neat tailoring of his clothing.

“Mr. Murphey?” Vic stepped closer. “I’m Vic D’Amato.”

“Humph. Good to meet you.” The older man gave Vic a once-over that made him want to adjust his shirt collar.

A server led them to the table Vic had reserved, one with a nice view of the water. After they finished a light lunch, Murphey turned to Vic.

“So, you’re interested in that TV interview I did several years back, about Operation Specter Cipher,” Murphey said with a directness Vic found refreshing. “Parts of that are still classified. I don’t have clearance to talk about everything that went on.”

“You mentioned working the project at the Ocean Visions Hotel,” Vic replied. “I wondered if you knew why the hotel was chosen for the project and your impressions of it.”

Murphey coughed, a deep chest rattle. “I have cancer. I won’t live much longer. So I’ll tell you what I can, although I’d still rather not pass the last of my days in Gitmo.”

“I don’t want to put you at risk,” Vic replied. “But the answers are important.”

Murphey paused to take a sip of steaming coffee. “My boys and I always believed that the brass picked Ocean Visions because it was already haunted, although that was never officially verified. The project wanted to see if people with psychic abilities could contact ghosts, win them over to our side, and use them as spies. On paper, it’s brilliant. In practice, it never got very far.”

“What do you mean?” Vic leaned in to catch every word.

“We had three people who were supposed to be powerful psychics, a bunch of electronic recording equipment, and some of those fancy EMF readers like on the haunted house shows. One of the psychics washed out pretty quickly as a fraud. Another had a psychotic breakdown that might or might not have been triggered by whatever energies were in the hotel. The third one hung in there. We never found anything to discredit him, and he didn’t go stark raving mad. But making contact with the ghosts in that place wasn’t good for him.”

“Why not?” Vic had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear what Murphey had seen.

“Seems whatever mumbo-jumbo the project was using tended to pull in evil spirits who just wanted to cause harm but couldn’t be controlled,” Murphey said. “They were actually too dangerous for the military, if you can imagine that.” He gave a raspy chuckle.