Nick Stubbs was enjoying himself. An amusing interlude in an otherwise boring day searching for phenomena that steadfastly refused to be found. And it had promised so much - a week ago. Come out and have a look at Framlingham Hall, they’d said. One of the most haunted houses in Britain. Guaranteed apparitions from dusk to dawn. They're knocking it down at the end of the month so it'll be your last chance. Can you afford to pass it up?

Nick Stubbs couldn’t.

His was a simple philosophy - never pass up an opportunity for who knows where it may lead. A philosophy that had served him well. He'd had his fair share of falling into life's open sewers but generally came up smelling, if not of roses, then of something only marginally less fragrant.

And now, here he was, standing under a musty, cobwebbed door-frame talking to an attractive young woman. The day was looking up.

Louise looked less sure.

"Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Perhaps I should…"

"Nonsense. Ms. Callander. Please come in. I insist."

He beckoned her inside with a theatrical bow and then wished he hadn’t. The poor girl was on the verge of running away as it was. One day he’d learn to rein in his eccentricities.

But not any day soon.

He led her through the dark and musty entrance hall, over the bare, echoing floorboards, past the peeling wallpaper and into the light of a large front room. Library, morning room, study, billiard room - it could have been anything in a previous incarnation. But today, stripped of its former elegance it was just another empty room; four walls, imposing marble fireplace and a high, moulded ceiling.

And an array of tripods in the far corner. An oasis of modern technology in a desert of emptiness and decay.

"They're mine." He’d noticed her interest. "Higher Dimensional Imagers. Cameras, if you like." He walked over and patted one of them, feeling like a proud parent amongst strange misshapen children. "Now, how can I help?"

She looked nervously towards the door.

"Please," he said, trying to put her at ease. "If Anders Ziegler referred you to me, it’s got to be important." Earth-shatteringly important. The two men barely spoke.

"I’m not sure where to begin," said Louise.

"Then just start talking and we’ll work it out from there."