Philip Kerr - Gridiron

Kay felt the elevator behind her. She touched it with her hand. And yet the car did not arrive.

'Please,' she said. 'Please go away.'

Sam laughed again and inspected the toes of his well-positioned shoes.

'You gotta have somethin' to alleviate the boredom on a job like this. Know what I'm sayin'?'

'No, I don't.'

'Sure you do.'

'Are you — are you a ghost?'

'Didn't know there was such a thing. Goddamn. Goddamn, of course. Poor guy. Know something? This is about the safest job I ever had.'

Sam laughed again as Kay Killen started to scream.

In the boardroom on the twenty-first level, Mitch looked up from his computer and frowned.

'Did any of you hear something just now?' he asked.

His three colleagues shrugged or shook their heads.

Mitch stood up and opened the door.

This time they all heard it.

'Kay,' said Mitch.

The atrium was still echoing with her screams as they ran towards the elevators. On the way, Mitch leaned over the balcony and shouted down into the darkness. 'Kay, hold on, we're coming.'

'Jesus, what now?' said Kenny following Mitch into the elevator car. The doors slid shut and the car started its descent with Mitch banging on the walls impatiently.

When they reached the atrium Kay collapsed unconscious back into the elevator, her head banging on the floor of the car.

Mitch and Helen crouched anxiously beside her while Kenny and

Levine swiftly searched for whoever might have attacked her. By now all the lights were on and Kenny was soon back, shaking his head with bafflement.

'I didn't see anything,' he said. 'Not a damn thing. Is she OK?'

'She just fainted, that's all,' said Helen.

'It sure didn't sound like that was all,' observed Levine. 'Shit, I thought she was being raped or murdered for sure.'

Mitch lifted Kay against his chest while Helen fanned some air against her pale-looking face. Her eyelids flickered and she started to come round.

'What happened, honey?' said Kenny.

Levine came back, shrugging his shoulders. 'The front door's still locked,' he reported. 'And there's no sign of anyone on the piazza.'

'You're OK now,' Mitch said gently, as for a moment she became agitated again. 'You're safe now.' Then he helped her to lean forwards and place her head between her knees. 'Take your time. You just fainted, that's all.'

'Sam,' she said quietly. 'It was Sam.'

'Did she say Sam?' said Levine.

'Sam Gleig?' asked Kenny.

Kay lifted her head and opened her eyes. 'I saw him,' she said tremulously, and started to weep.

Mitch handed over his handkerchief. Kenny and Levine exchanged a look.

'You mean — like a ghost?' said Kenny. 'Here? In the Gridiron?'

Kay blew her nose and sighed profoundly.

'Can you stand up?' Mitch asked.

She nodded.

'It sounds crazy, I know,' she said, and let Mitch help her on to her feet. 'But I saw what I saw.'

She caught the look that passed between Kenny and Levine. 'Look, I didn't imagine it,' she said. 'He was there. He even spoke to me.'

Mitch handed Kay the purse she had dropped on the floor.

'I'm not the kind of person who would make up something like this. Or imagine it.'

Mitch shrugged. 'Nobody's suggesting you are, Kay.' He looked at her and added, 'Look, we believe you, honey. If you say you saw Sam, then you saw him.'

'You sure don't look like you're shitting us,' said Levine.

'He's right,' said Helen. 'You're as white as a sheet.'

'What did he say?' asked Kenny. 'What did it look like?'

Kay shook her head with irritation.

'Not it. I'm telling you, it didn't look like anything except Sam Gleig. Just listen to what I'm saying, will you? He looked the same as always. And he was laughing, too.' She opened her powder compact and frowned. 'Shit, I'm a mess. He said — he said he figured he was dead and that it was a waste. His exact words, I swear to God.'

'Come back upstairs,' said Mitch, 'and let's get you fixed up before you go home.'

'I think we could all of us use a drink,' suggested Kenny.

They stepped back into the elevator car and rode up to the twenty-first floor. While Kay attended to her make-up Levine opened the boardroom drinks cabinet and poured four shots of bourbon.

'I believe in ghosts,' declared Aidan Kenny. 'My mother saw a ghost once. And I never knew her to lie about anything. Never even tell a tall tale.'

'You've been making up for her since then,' remarked Levine.

'I'm not lying now,' Kay said firmly. 'It scared the shit out of me and I don't mind admitting it.' She finished her eyeliner and drained the glass before applying some more lipstick.

'What about the foundations?' said Levine. 'I mean, they're thirty feet deep, aren't they? Did we, like, you know, build on top of anything?'

'You mean an old Indian burial ground or something?' said Kenny.

'C'mon, man.'

'This site used to be the old Abel Stearns building,' said Mitch. 'One of those northern carpetbaggers from San Francisco who bought land here and built around the turn of the century. When the company got taken over in the 1960s, the new owners demolished it and the lot lay fallow until a developer came along. Then he went bust and the Yu Corporation bought the site.'

'But before Abel Stearns,' persisted Levine. 'I mean, this area was all Pueblo de los Angeles, wasn't it? Mexicans and Aztec Indians? Why not?'

'Don't let Joan hear you say the word Indian,' said Kenny. 'That woman's the Native American equivalent of the Reverend Al Sharpton.'

'Those Aztecs used to practise human sacrifice. They used to cut their victims' hearts out while they were still alive.'

'Just like Ray Richardson,' said Kenny. 'Anyway Tony, Sam was black. Or rather, African-American. He was no fucking Aztec. An asshole, maybe. What kind of security guard gets himself killed then spooks a defenceless woman like that?'

'Look', said Kay, 'I want you all to promise me something. I want you to promise me that you won't go around telling people what happened tonight. I don't want to turn into the office joke, OK? Will you promise me that?'

'Sure,' said Mitch.

'Of course,' smiled Helen.

Kenny and Levine shrugged and then nodded their acquiescence.

'Let's just hope we can get tomorrow's inspection done without any more mishaps,' said Mitch.

'Amen to that,' breathed Kenny.

Mitch returned to the Gridiron at seven-thirty the next morning. In the bright, flat sunlight it was hard to imagine how anyone could have seen a ghost in the place. Perhaps it was some kind of hallucination. He had read how an LSD experience could make a return visit at any time in your life, no matter how long ago the original experience had occurred, and Mitch thought that this, or something like it anyway, was the most likely explanation.

He'd wanted to call in to see Jenny Bao for her answer on the temporary feng shui certificate. But he was facing a whole day with Ray Richardson and he knew that his principal would arrive before eight. So the first thing he did upon his arrival was to telephone her.

'It's me,' he told her.

'Mitch?' she said sleepily. 'Where are you?'

'At the Gridiron.'

'What time is it?'

'Seven-thirty. I'm sorry, did I wake you?'

'No, it's OK. I was going to call you anyway. I decided to let you have your certificate in time for Monday. But only because it's you. And only because the Tong Shu says that Monday will be an auspicious day.'

'That's great. Thanks, Jenny. Thanks a lot. I appreciate it.'

'Yeah, well, there's one condition.'

'Name it.'

'That I come in some time today and perform a few office warming rituals. To ensure that all evil spirits leave the building and good qi is brought in.'

'Sure. What kind of rituals?'

'It's complicated. Among other things we'll have to take the fish outside. We'll also have to shut down the electrical power for a short while. And a red banner needs to be hung across the signboard outside. Oh yes, the windows will have to be darkened, but then you can do that automatically, can't you? And one more thing. I don't know how you'll manage this — I know you have a very sophisticated fire alarm system. I have to start a fire in a charcoal stove in the doorway and fan it until the charcoal is hot.'

Jesus,' said Mitch. 'What's the charcoal for?'

'It's to symbolize a warm result for Mr Yu's inspection on Monday.'

'I'll drink to that,' laughed Mitch. 'As far as I'm concerned, you can set fire to Old Glory if you think it's necessary. But does it have to be today?

We've got Richardson in all day. Could you come in at the weekend?'

'It's not me who says it has to be done this afternoon, Mitch. It's the Tong Shu, the Chinese almanac. This afternoon is a good day for the performance of ceremonies to banish evil spirits.'

'OK, I'll see you this afternoon.'

Mitch replaced the receiver and shook his head. In the circumstances he had thought it better not to mention what Kay Killen had seen. There was no telling what Jenny might have insisted on then. A full exorcism?

Dancing naked round the tree? how on earth was he going to tell Ray Richardson that Jenny Bao was planning to light a charcoal stove to smoke the devils out of his state-of-the-art building?

Frank Curtis awoke with a start and wondered why he was so depressed. Then he remembered: it was ten years to the day since his brother had died of cancer. Leaving his wife, Wendy, still asleep, he slipped out of bed and went into the study to find the cardboard box containing his photograph albums.

It was not that he needed to look at pictures to be reminded of what his brother had looked like. Frank Curtis had only to look in a mirror to do that, for he and Michael had been identical twins. Looking at the photographs was a way of reminding himself of what he had once been, half of a greater whole.

When Michael died it had been like losing an arm. Or some vital organ. After that Curtis felt he was only ever half a person.

Wendy appeared in the doorway.

'How can it be ten years?' he said, swallowing a lump in his throat the size of a baseball.

'I know, I know. All week I've been thinking the same thing.'

'And I'm still here.' He shook his head. 'There's not a day passes that I don't think of him. When I don't ask myself, why him and not me?'

'Are you going to Hillside?'

'Yeah.'

'You'll be late for work.'

Curtis shrugged carelessly. 'So what? I'm never going to make lieutenant anyway.'

'Frank…'

He grinned. 'Besides, I'm not on until one.'

She smiled back at him. 'I'll make us some coffee.'

'It's not like I need a stone to remember him, y'know? I always think of him like he was.' He shrugged. 'Maybe, after ten years, it's time to let him go a bit.'

But before he left the house, Curtis placed a small lawnmower in the trunk of his car.

Hillside Memorial Park Cemetery was only ten minutes' drive close to the San Diego Freeway and LAX. Every year Frank Curtis made the journey and, with 747s only a few hundred feet above his head, he worked to tidy up his brother's grave. A practical man, Curtis preferred to mark his remembrance with this small act of devotion. Like a penance, he thought. It wasn't much, but at least it made him feel a bit better.

By the time he got to New Parker Center, Curtis was in the mood to be distracted, to get things done and make other things happen. He typed reports, filed them with the relevant clerical officers, filled out his expense claims, reviewed his diary and said nothing.

Nathan Coleman watched his colleague and wondered what had moved him to this rare exhibition of bureaucratic efficiency.

Curtis unfolded a piece of paper and laid it on the desk. It was Cheng Peng Fei's handbill, protesting about the Yu Corporation's human rights record. He floated it towards Coleman.

'You know, I read that thing,' he said finally. 'He's right. Any company that's as involved with the Chinese government as the Yu Corp shouldn't be allowed to trade in this country.'

'Tell that to Congress,' said Coleman. 'We just renewed China's favoured-nation trading status.'

'It's like I always say, Nat. The whores on the hill.'

'Actually, I've been meaning to tell you Frank,' said Coleman.

'Something I heard this morning. Immigration is holding three of those other Chinese kids.'

'Why, for Chrissakes?'

'They said they were in violation of their visa requirements. They were working, or some shit like that. But I got a friend there who said that someone in the mayor's office pulled strings to get them kicked out of the country. Since when the demo outside the Gridiron has packed up and gone home.'

'That's interesting.'

'It seems this architect guy has a lot of friends up there.'

'Is that so?'

'In less than seventy-two hours they'll be on a plane back to Hong Kong,' shrugged Coleman. 'Or wherever it was they came from.'

'Cheng is still here, right?' said Curtis.

'Right. But even if he did meet Sam Gleig, forensic still says he couldn't have killed him.'

After a silence Curtis said, 'They never came back to us, did they?

Those Martians at the Gridiron were supposed to get an engineer from Otis to come and check the car's safety. It's been a week now. That's long enough in a homicide inquiry, wouldn't you say?'

'Maybe the computer forgot to make the call,' said Coleman.

'I've been thinking about that photograph, too. Supposing it was a fake, who better than someone in the Yu Corporation building to make it? That's a pretty fancy computer they've got there. How about this, Nat? Here's the motive: there is something wrong with those elevators, only someone wants to cover it up for a while. Maybe one of those architect guys. They've got a lot of money riding on this job. Millions. One of them said as much to me. He more or less asked me to keep the lid on any publicity. Said it would look bad if someone was killed in a smart building. Now would he think it was better that some pain-in-theass demonstrator should take the blame for an accidental death instead of their own damn building? What do you think?'

'I could buy that.'

'Good. Because so could I.'

'Want me to give them a call?' Coleman said. 'Those fuckin' Martians?'

Curtis stood up and lifted his coat off the back of his chair.

'I've got a better idea,' he said. 'It's Friday afternoon. They'll be winding down for the weekend. Let's go and make a nuisance of ourselves.'

Ray Richardson was the kind of architect who did not like surprises, and it was his standard practice to inspect exhaustively floors, walls, ceilings, doors, windows, electrical equipment, services equipment, sanitary-ware and joinery, accompanied only by the members of his own project team before repeating the same procedure formally with the client.