Swimmer by Graham Masterton Page B

ocean. There was a moment’s pause, and then Dennis’s metallic-red surfboard came flying out of the ocean, almost vertically, like a Polaris missile. Jim kicked off his shoes and started to pull open the buttons on his shirt.
    Susan gripped his wrist and stopped him. ‘Jim, there’s nothing there. It seems like it’s real but it’s only a trick of the light. Dennis is dead, Jim. If you swim out there now, you won’t find anything at all. No Dennis, no spirit. No surfboard.’
    She cupped her hand over the crystal to stop it from rotating. Then she picked it up and handed it to Michael, and Michael slipped it back into its black woven bag. Again Jim caught that look in his eyes, almost as if he were warning him off.
    Susan said, ‘I’m sorry, Jim. I don’t think there’s any doubt at all. This student of yours was drowned by the same water spirit that drowned Mikey … and from everything you’ve told me, the same spirit tried to drown your friend Mervyn too.’
    â€˜So what is it? And what do you think it wants?’
    â€˜I don’t know. It’s not an ethnic manifestation, like a Native American river spirit. Ethnic spirits can be incredibly powerful, and they would flood a whole town rather than drown one poor struggling student. It’s not a regular ghost, because a regular ghost wouldn’t be able to use the water to take on a physical shape. Like, ghosts are just smoke and mirrors. They’re all
suggestion
, rather than physical fact. Cold spots, smells, pictures rearranged … that’s all ghosts are good for. I mean, they’re frightening enough, but they can’t do you any real harm.’
    â€˜So this is like that heap of rubbish that came alive and strangled that old man in Encino? An urban legend?’
    â€˜That’s my guess, anyway. It’s like the phantom hitch-hiker in the back of the car; or the Blair Witch; or the guy who had himself sewn up inside an armchair so that he could fondle the woman he loved whenever she sat down.
    â€˜Let’s put it this way. Not all spirits are old. Not all evil influences are ancient, no matter what H. P. Lovecraft had to say about it. There are new spirits being created every day – every time something horrible happens. A homicide, a car smash. Somebody committing suicide. Most of the time they don’t do anybody any harm … but now and again they want revenge for the way their lives were cut short.’
    â€˜So what do we do now? How do we find out what this water spirit is?’
    â€˜I think we’ll have to pay a visit to David DuQuesne. He’s the expert. It’ll probably cost you, though.’
    â€˜I don’t mind that. I just want to find out how I can stop this thing before any more of my class get hurt.’
    â€˜Okay, I’ll see what I can do. The last I heard, he was living up in Topanga Canyon someplace. I have a couple of friends who should know how to find him.’
    Jim dropped Susan and Michael back at Franklin Avenue. Before she left him, Susan took hold of his hand and gave him a kiss on the lips. ‘I’ll call you later, all right, as soon as I’ve gotten in contact with David DuQuesne.’
    Jim unlatched the passenger seat and folded it forward so that Michael could climb out.
    â€˜Something on your mind?’ he asked. ‘You were giving me some pretty meaningful looks down there on the beach.’
    â€˜Nothing in particular,’ said Michael. ‘I just want you to be careful, okay?’
    â€˜Careful about what?’
    â€˜You know what I’m talking about. Susan. I’m asking you to keep your relationship on a strictly business level. She’s still very breakable.’
    â€˜She looks tough enough to me.’
    â€˜Hidden fault-lines, Jim.’
    â€˜All right. But I wasn’t thinking of starting anything with her, believe me. I’m already involved with somebody