Jon Reese looked out the second floor window as several black sedans pulled into the dirt driveway of the old farmhouse.

Time had run out.

There would be no tomorrow for him.

Jon thought he could out smart that bastard Daniel Stricker. Make him look like a huge fool. But he had too much power. Too many resources.

And way too much money. Hundreds of millions.

He knew that once Stricker’s men caught him they would find a way to force the truth out of him. By legal means or otherwise. Yeah, the game was over.

The thirty year old accountant gazed up at the length of rope that hung menacingly from the wooden ceiling beam.

What a way to go, he thought. Never realized where this crazy plan would ultimately lead him. At the bitter end of a noose.

The sound of voices came from downstairs.

It was time.

Jon grimly tightened the rope about his neck as he stepped onto the antique chair.

A smirk crossed his face briefly and he closed his eyes.

He would have the last laugh at least. The precious documents he had stolen from Stricker were safely hidden. They would not be found.

Close by they were, yes. But still safe.

Jon would get the best of the wealthy investor. And that fact would burn a hole in the great ego of Stricker for the rest of his life.

He stepped off the chair.

#

Several hours had passed since the last officer left the farmhouse that had served as Jon Reese’s last hideout.

A man wearing a gray suit jacket stood with arms folded as he shook his head in disbelief.

"I want the transaction completed within twenty four hours. Get in touch with those psychics and have them flown in first class. I will not take no for an answer, do you hear me Stevens?"

"Of course I hear you, Daniel. Haven’t you barked orders at me for the last ten years?" Mike Stevens straightened his glasses and wondered if his boss had finally went too far.

The house was not legally bought yet, but that had not stopped Daniel Stricker from tearing it apart already. The owners had been reluctant to sell, but when the offer doubled they did not hesitate. They only occupied the farmhouse for a few months out of the year anyway.

"I will compensate them for damage to personal belongings."

Daniel stood with hands on hips, his lean body set in a posture of stubborn defiance. His short black hair shined as a small ray from the setting sun managed to find a crack through the now shuttered window.

He rubbed his clean shaven face and stared absently at the walls.

"If they don’t turn anything up, I have another idea that may just work."

"I can’t wait to hear this one," said Stevens as he took the cell phone from his pocket.

Two days had passed since the four psychics had been initially contacted. Their services had been used and they had left just as quickly back to their respective home states.

Daniel sat in his black leather chair, staring at the city from the high rise building which housed the corporate offices of Stricker Enterprise.

"Well, are you satisfied yet?" Stevens looked at Daniel and pursed his lips.

"I’ll never be satisfied until those documents are found!"

Daniel spun around in the chair and almost flew off from the force.

"If you believe in such nonsense, then these psychics fell short. They found nothing," said the accountant.

Stevens felt that they were wasting their time. They had searched the farmhouse and uncovered no sign of the papers. Daniel was convinced that Reese had hidden the important documents somewhere in the house. He simply did not have time to go anywhere else. They had been hot on his trail after the theft, and knew that Reese had visited the farmhouse before. He must have found a hiding spot and went directly there near the end.

"You are wrong about the psychics, Stevens. They have been very helpful. Do you remember what they said concerning Reese?" His eyes glittered darkly and a shudder went through Stevens’ body. Daniel continued.

"Even though they failed to locate the documents, they believe the papers remain somewhere on the property. And they all came to another conclusion." He paused for a moment.

"They all felt the strong presence of a spirit. How did they say it? A forlorn, or distressed entity? Stevens, it is Reese. I know it. He is still there. Haunting that forsaken place. Trapped where he ended his life."

Stevens frowned. "Even if that is true, which I doubt, what good is it to you? Jon Reese is gone. And if he is a ghost, what do you think he is going to do, Daniel, materialize and lead you to the documents? That’s ridiculous."

Daniel pounded the desk with a fist.

"Yes, I do believe it! He is there, and I’m going to find those papers. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll get them back."

Daniel grabbed a pen and scribbled a list onto a notepad.

"I want all this equipment delivered to the farmhouse overnight. And enough trained men needed to monitor everything. Let’s see if we can’t juice things up for our ghost here."

A smug look crossed his face.

"Reese couldn’t escape me in life, and damn it, Stevens, I won’t let him escape me in death."

The farmhouse looked like a bizarre house of horrors.

Flashes of light shown from the windows, changing patterns of every color under the rainbow. Pulsating rays of strobe, neon, and lasers shimmered in the surrounding countryside like a macabre disco hall.

Accompanying the high-tech light display was a cacophony of shrill noises. High tones, low tones, all being emitted in random generated sequences with the outrageous lighting.

The whole setting was surreal.

A ghastly nightmare house in the middle of sprawling meadows and cornfields.

Parked down the dirt driveway was a large trailer filled with enough computerized equipment to monitor a small war. In this case it was a war of wills, with one of them belonging to an obsessed man, and the other an unrevealed and possibly non-existent entity.

Daniel Stricker and Mike Stevens watched the incredible scene with mixed emotions.

"You have out done yourself this time, Daniel. I think you may need to see a doctor." Stevens didn’t worry about losing his position anymore. He was afraid that he worked for a mad man.

"Don’t you understand what we are doing here? All the science known to the world, all at our disposal." Daniel’s eyes possessed the fire of passion.

"We are going to turn the tables around. I am haunting the haunted. He’ll have no rest until those documents are found! Do you know that there are frequencies being played inside that are out of a human’s range? But maybe not out of a ghost’s hearing. I’m making death just as miserable to Reese as the last days of his life were. We’ll try every conceivable means necessary to torment his spirit. The infra-red cameras have shown a shifting source of heat. It’s him, I tell you."

"You say it is him, but what do we really know, Daniel? This is all hypothetical. Nothing concrete."

"Come on, man, open your eyes! There is so much we don’t know. Technology has the key to what we can’t see. He’s in there, on a different realm of existence than us. We are reaching over to the other side. And by the reports, he seems to be agitated by all this activity. It’s working."

"I don’t think you need me anymore," said Stevens. "You’re better off with some fortune teller." He walked away towards the group of cars parked behind the trailer.

Daniel ignored the man and stared at the house. He raised a clenched fist into the air. "You won’t escape me, Reese, I swear it."

He turned abruptly as the trailer door opened and one of the technicians appeared.

"Mr. Stricker, something odd has happened."

"What, out with it." Daniel strode up to the man impatiently.

"It seems that a heat source has shown up on our monitors again in the kitchen several minutes ago. It actually went through the back door and then returned to the house. I’ve never seen anything quite like it."

Daniel’s mouth gaped open.

"Something is happening. I’ve got to see! I’m going in, so follow me on the monitors. Contact me with the transmitter as to it’s movements. And ease up on the lights, so I don’t get blasted myself."

"Yes, sir. Right away." He responded to the fleeing form of Daniel Stricker as he ran towards the house.

#

Daniel opened the front door, the night vision glasses firmly in place on his face.

The porch creaked eerily as he walked inside, old floorboards groaning in warped protest.

Darkness greeted the man as he gained the interior of the farmhouse. The living room was wired with various computer items, including state of the art cameras and mounted lights of differing sizes.

"I didn’t want all the lights off," Daniel mumbled to himself.

His confidence waned slightly but not enough to affect his eagerness. He continued into the dining room and hesitated for a moment.

There was no one else inside but a noise reached his ears.

A quiet shaking, as of an object in motion. He looked up.

The chandelier that rested above the dining table swung in an even arc. Gently, as if by unseen hands pushing ever so softly on its rounded edge.

Daniel gasped out loud and his chest grew cold. The air temperature suddenly dropped.

"What is on the screen?" He whispered into the transmitter and was answered only by static. "Come in, damn it." His voice was low and raspy.

"Appearing........screen............cameras..........fogged up................."

"What? You’re breaking up. Over."

The transmitter went dead.

His contact line was broken, and the walls of the lonely farmhouse closed in around him. The chandelier had ceased moving.

Daniel was confused and becoming frightened. His brash talk earlier seemed foolish.

With heavy steps, he walked further into the house. Little clouds of dust were disturbed by his passing, strangely discolored from the night lenses.

He was startled as the red button flashed on the transmitter.

A breathy voice came over.

"Daniel, Daniel.................."

Quivering in fear he dropped the transmitter as the horrible voice spoke his name.

The house erupted around him as brilliant flashes of light exploded, accompanied by shrieks of every tone audible to the human ear.

Daniel collapsed to the ground, holding his hands over his ears to shut out the barrage.

It lasted a few seconds then all went dark and silent again. He knelt on the hardwood floor and hardly dared to breathe.

At the entrance to the kitchen, a pale transparent figure materialized.

It was the ghost of Jon Reese.

Daniel’s lips trembled but no words came out.

Through the transmitter the grisly voice spoke.

"Follow me.................................."

The specter drifted into the kitchen and hovered there, slowly making its way to the back door.

"The documents, he wants me to go after him," Daniel said to himself. "This is my only chance."

His fear was not enough to outweigh his thirst for retribution, and he stood up in pursuit as the spirit went through the closed door.

Back at the trailer, chaos had taken hold as all the computers and monitors went off-line simultaneously.

Jeff, the project manager, tried to regain order as the technicians became frantic.

"This doesn’t make any sense! I don’t know what is going on here, but we’ve lost all signals. Do everything possible to bring them back. Start up the generator. I’ve got to go after Stricker. I think he’s in trouble."

Grabbing a flashlight and night glasses, he burst out the door into the blackness.

#

Daniel raced across the meadow which bordered the farmhouse, led on by the retreating spirit like a will-o-the-wisp. Disregarding all caution, he knew that the documents were close. The papers that had to be found at all cost.

Stumbling several times, he did not lose sight of the shade. They had already gone several hundred yards behind the farmhouse even as Jeff searched the now empty building.

A small copse appeared and Daniel saw the spirit hesitate. He continued on and the ghost suddenly vanished.

Daniel could see a small structure just within the fringe of the tree line which looked to be an old spring house.

"It’s here! It has to be."

His fear now all but forgotten, Daniel reached the trees and approached the decayed shack. The door was partly open.

He pulled the crumbling entrance wider and stepped inside onto a rotted oak flooring.

Daniel was too shocked to react as a trapdoor sprung open at his feet, dropping him down into a deep well.

A scream echoed from his parched throat as the seconds passed, and he scraped blindly at damp, moss covered walls of stone.

As he finally hit the water he never even realized it, because his head smacked into a hard briefcase that contained the documents which linked him to several convicted criminals that had helped him reach his lofty perch in the financial world.

Hours later his body was to be discovered, initiating a chain of events that would crumble Daniel Stricker’s empire of deceit.