GOLDFISH

Old Mr. Sato was dead, to begin with. Ray had insisted on going to his funeral. Of all the Ghostbusters, he'd been the one to befriend the ancient man who lived across the street from headquarters. Mr. Sato had outlived all his kin, and even most of his friends, so it had been Ray who sat with him in the hospital and talked to him, who had been with him at the end. "He was a great guy," he said sadly to Peter and Winston the day after the funeral as the three of them polished Ecto-1. "I wish you guys had known him as well as I did. He sure knew everything there was to know about martial arts. He taught me some great moves."

Peter groaned. "So, are you gonna try to flip us, Ray? Or use judo and karate on ghosts? I think they'd only laugh."

Ray knew Peter was sympathetic over Mr. Sato's death, but he hadn't known Mr. Sato. He didn't really understand. He was probably just trying to make Ray laugh. "I just wish I could have found his old pupil for him," he said. "He kept insisting I send for this guy he used to know in Japan years and years ago. But I couldn't find him. I even checked with the embassy over there and they said the guy had left Japan three years ago and they don't know where he went. Somewhere in America, that's all I know. I put in calls to contacts I've got all over the place, and I suppose I'll track him down eventually, but I wish he could have been here yesterday."

"It's a big country," Winston chipped in. "You do know the guy's name, Ray?"

Ray made a face at him. "Of course I know his name. It was McAllister. He was an American who stayed in Japan to study martial arts after World War II. I've got a lot of calls out. Maybe he'll show up yet. Mr. Sato left some books to him. I've got them stored upstairs, remember? The lawyer asked me to."

Egon opened the outer door and came in as Ray was speaking. He looked windblown--it was a stormy day--but he also looked perplexed, even alarmed. That made the other three turn to stare at him in surprise. Peter took a quick step in his direction.

Egon's brow wrinkled. "Ray, this is very odd, but I could swear I've just seen Mr. Sato."

Ray's eyes widened. "You couldn't have seen...." Then his voice trailed off. "You mean...his ghost? Because he didn't get to see his old pupil before he died? That's terrible." He stared at Egon. "Did you take readings?"

"No, because I didn't have my meter with me. But, Ray, if that were Mr. Sato's ghost, he looked different than he was in life."

The uneasy note in his voice made Peter glance around for a thrower. Egon joined him at the back of Ecto-1 and they started lifting out proton packs.

"You can't blast Mr. Sato," Ray cried, horrified at the thought of zapping and trapping the spirit of his old friend. He raced to stop them and caught Peter's pack before he could slide his arms through the straps. "If he's haunting us, it's because I let him down. I'll have to talk to him."

"You didn't let him down, Ray," Peter reassured him. "You never let people down. You'll find that guy yet. He wouldn't haunt you for that."

"How was he different?" Winston asked with an uneasy glance at the door.

At the practical question, Egon stopped fastening the strap of his pack. "Ray, he looked like Mr. Sato, but he also looked twisted, malicious. Very...hungry."

"Hungry? I knew it," groaned Peter. "Why do we get the nasty ones?" He must have heard himself, and he backtracked quickly. "Ray, I'm sorry if he was your friend, but if Egon's right, we'll have to stop him. We can't have him scaring people, little kids. He might hurt someone."

"Mr. Sato wouldn't hurt a fly." But Ray's forehead wrinkled in faint doubt.

"Guy was a martial artist, Ray," Winston reminded him. "All that fighting he did, he must have hurt somebody over the years."

"That's not what martial arts is about," Ray insisted. "At least not when it's done right. It's a discipline, not just a way to kick ass. It's about learning control and inner strength, that's what Mr. Sato always said." He hesitated. He'd always had a feeling when talking with the ancient martial artist, that maybe, just maybe, he'd had a secret past, a dark past.

"Tell that to ninjas," Winston muttered darkly.

"Ninjas? He wasn't a ninja...." Ray's voice trailed off. He didn't know for sure, and there was that black outfit he'd seen when he and the lawyer were going through the old guy's stuff to make sure there wasn't anything valuable that ought to be removed to safety. The lawyer had taken away a couple of katana swords that he thought might be worth a lot of money, and that were to go to the mysterious McAllister if he ever showed up. He'd left the books with Ray because they were just ordinary books, and one more book would never be noticed in the midst of the guys' collection. But the swords, some valuable ivory pieces, and his bankbooks were all with the lawyer, except for the books and one little jade figurine shaped like a goldfish that Sato had left to Ray. He had it in his pocket right now; he liked the feel of it, the smooth polished surface, the little whorls of tail and fin.... That didn't matter now. The black outfit...didn't ninjas dress all in black?

"Maybe he was," Peter said darkly. "Ninjas were assassins, Ray. Nasty guys. Maybe he's turned vicious in death because the people he killed are stalking him and he has to fight them off." He made a few moves that he fondly--and inaccurately--imagined a ninja might use. Ray tried not to chuckle.

"Pure speculation, Peter." Pack on his back, Egon went to Janine's desk, arched an eyebrow when she wasn't there before he remembered it was Saturday, and picked up the P.K.E. meter he'd left there. He activated it, then he frowned. "I'm detecting Class 5 readings, not here in the building but within a block of here."

"Class 5?" Ray breathed a sigh of relief. "Then it's not Mr. Sato. He'd be a Class 4."

As he spoke, the door burst open and refuted his words. The spirit of Mr. Sato lurked there, nearly twice as big as life, his face dark and twisted, his eyes hollow with a ravening hunger. He looked twisted and dangerous, but he was Mr. Sato, all right. Egon's meter shrilled loudly in the astonished silence.

"Mr. Sato?" Ray cried in shocked disbelief. "What's wrong? Why are you like that? It's me. Ray."

The ghost turned its eyes on him, and Ray could see not one shred of recognition in the burning gaze, only the fierce driving hunger that marked him as a target.

Peter whipped his pack on so quickly it was a wonder he didn't dislocate both shoulders. Before any of them could fire, the ghost oozed forward too quickly to track and stopped in the midst of them so that they would have to aim at each other to blast it. It spoke to them, not in English, but in Japanese. No, it spoke to Ray, and it put out its hand to him, a hand with talons instead of fingernails, demanding something. What? Ray's heart? His liver? In spite of the thrill of Ghostbusting, in spite of the fact that he'd faced up to entities ten times more scary than the ominous, distorted spirit of his old friend, Ray felt ice slide up and down his spine. He could see nothing Mr. Sato, nothing of his dry humor, his kind heart, in the empty, demanding eyes.

"Look out, Ray, he's coming for you!" Peter yelled. "Duck!"

"Give...me..." The spirit's English was labored, as if Mr. Sato had lost all his fluency in death. He'd scarcely had an accent after living in New York for more than twenty years. Sometimes he even sounded like a New Yorker, but for the odd turn of phrase. The ghost didn't seem to know English very well. That was weird.

"Raymond, he is a Class 5," Egon said sharply. "He can't be the ghost of your Mr. Sato, not unless he's been combined with another spirit, and my readings don't indicate that."

The spirit didn't even look at him. It moved directly for Ray, staying carefully in the line of fire for the other three. Winston and Peter tried to shift sideways to get a clear shot. "Look out, Ray!" Peter yelled. "He's coming for you."

The ghost's taloned hand fastened in the front of Ray's sweater vest, twisted the fabric, and yanked Ray right up against him. His other hand knocked Ray's thrower loose, and it bumped against Ray's feet as it clattered to the floor. The eyes burned into Ray's, their glittering hunger indicating a desire to consume him, to devour him. Golly, look at those fangs. "Egon, Egon, maybe he's a ghost vampire," he blurted.

"Hmm, the undead shouldn't produce readings like this." Egon mooned over the meter readings. "I believe I read something that would indicate--"

"Never mind what you're reading. It's got Ray!" Peter flung himself at the ghost, his thrower raised to blast it at point blank range the minute it separated from Ray.

It didn't separate. Instead it thrust out one arm and walloped Peter hard in the middle of the chest. Unlike some ghosts, this one was awfully solid, as Ray's vest could testify. The blow drove the breath from Peter and he fell backward, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Sato's ghost followed up with a kick that knocked Peter's feet from under him and a karate chop to the back of Peter's neck as he dropped, and Peter slumped on the floor, fighting for breath, his eyelids drooping dizzily as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Peter!" Egon dropped the meter as if it had scorched him and lunged for the downed man. That left Winston, who stalked the ghost warily. He didn't have a shot, either. Ray saw him hesitate, then reach for his ghost trap. It shouldn't be strong enough to suck in a Class 5 without some thrower action, but Winston tossed it on the floor, ready to kick it closer if he got a chance to fire.

"Give...." insisted the nasty spirit. It couldn't be Mr. Sato, not acting like that. And not if it was a Class 5. But why did it look like Mr. Sato?

"What do you want me to give?" Ray asked. He hoped Peter was okay. "Don't hurt anybody else, just tell me what you want. Can you speak English?"

"Give!" The grip never loosened on his sweater. The ghost shook Ray the way a woman would shake a dustcloth. He felt the power of the spirit as his arms flopped and his head snapped back on his neck.

"Let him go!" yelled Winston, still stalking. The ghost moved right along with him, making sure he kept Ray between him and Winston's thrower. It didn't seem to notice the trap.

"Peter?" Ray called hopefully. "Are you okay?"

"He's winded, Ray," Egon said without looking up. "Lean forward a little, Peter. That should ease it." His hand moved soothingly up and down Peter's back, but his other hand still clutched his thrower and it tracked the ghost, waiting for an opening. Peter didn't pay any attention to the battle of wills with the ghost. The urgent need to breathe required all his attention.

A new voice suddenly shattered the tension, barking out a fierce command in a foreign language. Japanese, Ray realized, although he didn't speak the language. Over the ghost's shoulder, he saw two men in the doorway, one about Peter's age, the other all covered up in black. A ninja! Only his penetrating eyes showed through an opening in the hooded mask he wore, and there was a medallion on a chain around his neck that might have been old ivory in the shape of a butterfly with lines across it to suggest a cage. As if the medallion were a talisman, he curled the fingers of one hand around it and repeated his command. His other hand clutched a shuriken, a martial arts throwing star, in an expert grip. His friend wore street clothes and an open-mouthed stare at the sight of the ghost that menaced Ray.

At the first hint of Japanese, the ghost's grip loosened, and with the second command, he let go of Ray and turned his hungry, seeking eyes on the newcomers. At the sight of the ninja, he bellowed furiously and lunged for him. The throwing star soared through the air--and through the entity. It hit the filing cabinet behind Janine's desk and bounced off with a clatter. The non-ninja's jaw dropped still further. Any more and it would rebound off the floor.

"Which of you is Stantz?" the ninja asked. He didn't sound young, but age didn't limit him. The way he moved suggested he could still fight, no matter his age.

Ray hesitated, but there was something about the old ninja that reassured him. He waved a hand like a pupil in class. "Uh, I am."

"McAllister, and this is Max Keller. You sent for me." He chuckled. "It looks like I got here just in time."

"Shuriken don't work against ghosts," said Egon without raising his eyes from the groggy Peter.

"No, they don't," agreed McAllister. "Stantz, quickly. Do you have in your possession a jade goldfish that belonged to Sato?" He held out the medallion in his hand as if it would ward off the ghostly figure that stalked him. Winston's thrower tracked the ghost but he couldn't fire because now he might hit McAllister and his friend.

Ray blinked. "In my pocket."

"Take it out slowly and put it on the floor. Then step back from it."

"Mr. Sato gave it to me," Ray admitted. "I wouldn't have taken it."

"Sato knew your profession. Did he warn you?" McAllister waved another shuriken at the entity. It didn't cower before it.

"Warn me?" Ray lay the jade goldfish on the garage floor and drew back a couple of steps in Peter's direction. Peter still wasn't talking. He had to be hurt. "Mr. Sato was dying. He made me get it out of the drawer of his bed table at the hospital. He said, 'Because you will know...' He wasn't well enough to keep talking."

"Because, as a Ghostbuster, you would know how to deal with it. No, Max, stand back. It won't hurt me."

"Are you kidding? It did a real number on that guy over there." Max waved his hand at Peter. "Be careful. It's not solid."

"No. It's a gaki."

"Of course," Egon exclaimed. "I was beginning to suspect as much. That would explain everything."

Ray knew the term, too, although Winston and Max didn't show any recognition. A gaki was a Japanese demon. Ray had read in Tobin's Spirit Guide that a gaki could assume a dead man's form and appear to those who knew him. Wasn't there something about being able to confine it....

"So you do understand. Sato confined the gaki long ago. He kept it pent in the jade figurine. His death must have freed it, but he made certain it would be drawn here, as the long years of bondage tied it to the artifact."

"So we blast it?" Winston asked.

At the question, the gaki let out a horrible bellow of rage and dove for Winston. The goldfish might have been its prison, but it didn't want it destroyed. Would destroying it destroy the gaki?

Ray didn't hesitate. Much as he'd loved Mr. Sato's gift, he had to act. He whipped out his thrower and blasted the thing at nearly point-blank range. Light exploded from it in all directions, causing Peter to blurt out a cry of surprise and Max to fling up a hand to shield his eyes. Winston stopped backing away, gave up on getting the trower aimed, and kicked the trap hard in the direction of the gaki.

"Hold," McAllister warned him. The light dimmed. When it faded away and Ray could see properly, the gaki hovered, small and diminished, still fanged and malicious, still burning with hunger like a vampire who senses blood, but no longer threatening. "Now," McAllister told Winston, who stomped on the trigger release. The gaki shrieked like a steam whistle, but he slid down into the trap without the slightest difficulty. The twin doors closed over it neatly, cutting off the cry in the middle. The silence in the garage was very loud.

"Peter? Are you all right?" Egon asked. "Can you hear me?"

"Not sure I can hear anything after the banshee from hell," Peter muttered. He was starting to come around. Ray glanced at Winston and they exchanged relieved glances.

"It attacked him?" McAllister asked. "It wasn't physical. The blows will hurt but should leave no lasting damage. Let him sit there a few minutes longer and then get him up." He bent over Peter, tilted his chin to study Peter's eyes to see if they were equal and reactive, and seemed satisfied. Peter squinted at him, still a little too dazed to react to the presence of a ninja in full regalia bending over him.

"I'll stay with him," Egon volunteered. "And I will call the paramedics if I deem it necessary."

"Good man." McAllister surprised Egon by clapping him on the shoulder. Then, as Winston scooped up the trap and prepared to carry it down to the containment unit, the ninja turned to Ray and pulled off his mask. He must have been approaching seventy, but he moved like a much younger man. "When I finally got your message, I was in Washington, so it didn't take long to arrive. I'm sorry I missed Sato's funeral. He was a good man. But I knew he had imprisoned the gaki long ago so I rushed here to help. You would have trapped it on your own, but it is better now. The artifact would have been a beacon to other spirits."

Ray looked down sadly. He'd loved having a memento from Mr. Sato. Then he blinked in surprise. The goldfish lay unbroken at his feet. "Gosh. I thought it would have disintegrated." He reached for it then glanced at the ninja.

"No, what you did with your particle thrower was to sever the link that bound the gaki to it. The goldfish is now simply a jade figurine, no more, no less. Keep it. Sato would have wanted you to. It's safe now."

Ray scooped it up gratefully, tracing the warmth of the stone, the depth of the whorls that signified fins and tail. "Thanks. You got here just in time."

"Yes, and surprised my pupil," he said with a wicked grin at Max.

The younger man gave him a playful punch on the arm that McAllister would have been able to fend off easily, had he wanted to. "You never said anything about ninjas battling ghosts, old fella."

"Have I told you everything I know yet? Max, Max, Max, the universe is far stranger than we can imagine. Never forget that."

"Traveling with a ninja? How could I?" Max grinned at him, then rolled his eyes at Ray. "He's teaching me," he explained.

"How to fight?" asked Winston on the top step of the basement stairs.

"No, how not to," Max said with a grin.

"And an uphill battle it is," McAllister said fondly.

Ray grinned. He could tell they were friends. "Mr. McAllister, Mr. Sato left a bunch of books for you, and a letter he wrote. I've got it upstairs in the lab. Why not come up, both of you, and I'll show you."

"And we can talk about Sato? I'd like that." McAllister gestured Max to join him and followed Ray toward the stairs.

As they started up and Winston started down, Ray heard Egon say, "Peter, do you think you're ready to get up yet?"

Ray hung back, waiting for the answer. It wasn't like Peter to be so quiet. Ray hoped he was really going to be okay.

There was a silence, then Peter spoke plaintively, but the tones were so familiar and reassuring that Ray knew he was going to be all right.

"Who was that masked man?"

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