Christopher Fowler - Personal Demons

'Did you talk to the police?'

'They said they'd let me know if they heard anything. It's not like I'm a relative. I'm sure something terrible has happened to him. You're new, you could ask around.' The big appealing eyes swayed him. 'Please?'

Mr Carmichael was a fussy time-server most people avoided, and today he had an appalling head-cold. 'Of course he was stressed,' he told Ben, 'he'd just had a terrible argument with Clark. I don't know where he went, nobody knows. I liked him, he was a nice man. Punctual. I liked Meadows, too. Never thought he'd do something like that. They say it's always the quiet ones, but Meadows… Mind you, everyone else hated his guts.'

In the ceiling corners, gleaming cameras recorded all movement as the air-mixers raised and lowered their pitch. Ben tapped the pencil on his teeth, trying to work it out. Worry made people overdose on sleeping pills, but what could make you hurl yourself to your death? Rainclouds the colour of drain-water rolled past the windows. He looked over at Marie's work station. She briefly glanced up and gave him an absent, tired smile.

'Want to go for a drink tonight?'

'By the time I'm through there won't be anywhere open. Besides, we shouldn't be seen together. Office fraternising is discouraged.'

Her changes of mood were unpredictable. The day passed at a crawl. Ben concentrated on drafting the press releases Carter had outlined to him. When he left the building that night, the thousand storm-streaked panes that looked down on him seemed far more sinister than they had yesterday morning.

Clark had been summoned to the director's office, an elegant low-lit suite that was more like a private apartment. Inside, the greying, debonair Temple was checking his watch impatiently, ready to leave.

'I hear the police were trying to get in again, Leonard. This is getting to be a habit.'

'I've told them this is private property,' said Clark, 'that we have our own security force.'

'We're still subject to the laws of the land. Anyone know why Meadows did it?'

'I've asked around. He seemed fine, a little hyper, but so is everyone else with this presentation looming…'

'It's not a wonderful advert for a stress-free environment, is it?'

'An unfortunate coincidence. And now these rumours…'

'You're saying we have – grumblers ?' Temple made the word sound sinister. 'If we do, keep an eye on them, report back to me. New York is the big one, the make or break contract. Nothing must jeopardise that. Do you understand? This is more than war. This is business.'

In the reception area of the 35th floor, the monitors were still spewing out their 'Peace and Harmony' sales pitch. Ben passed two managers who were shouting at each other, and another dropping papers everywhere who looked like she'd been up all night.

Lucy, his PA, startled him. 'Can cellular phones give you cancer?' she asked.

'I don't know,' Ben answered. 'Why?'

'I get these headaches all the time. Can you get cancer of the head?'

'Have you seen the company doctor?'

'He thinks I'm faking. Maybe it's these things.' She tapped his monitor.

'Tell me something, Lucy. What was Mr Felix like?'

'Really cute. She soon got her claws into him.' She pointed at Marie's chair.

'Before he left, did he seem strange to you in any way?'

'Not strange. Angry. He'd had an argument with Mr Clark.'

'They didn't get along?'

'Mr Clark hated him. He hates everyone. He already hates you.'

Later that morning, Ben attempted to requisition a file from a harassed Human Resources Officer. 'I told you,' insisted the officer, 'you can't see Mr Felix's medical history without proper authorisation.'

'What about absenteeism?' asked Ben. 'Does Symax have many people off sick?'

'What do you expect? Germs travel through the heating system. There are a few repetitive strain injuries. Always more when we're busy. There's a flu virus decimating the place. All companies get them, but this is particularly bad. We've a bigger health problem, but it doesn't make any sense.'

'What do you mean?'

'Hard to explain.' The officer pulled a pen from her hair and scrubbed something out on a form. 'I don't have any figures. Deadlines produce stress, which increases blood pressure, causes headaches, heartburn, sleep disorders… standard stuff. But there's an instability here. People overreact, flare up, lose their tempers, burst into tears. It's something peculiar to this building. You know the hand dryers in the toilets? They're supposed to be more hygienic. They're not. They incubate bacteria. You can get pneumonia from them. Nobody really knows what's good for you. Or what's harmful. And my clock's running backwards.'

Ben was momentarily thrown. 'Sorry?'

'My computer clock. They shouldn't do that, should they? Run backwards?'

'Could you give me a print-out of the sickness figures?'

'It's against regulations. Haven't you read your manual? Head office don't like it.'

Ben fooled around with his computer, but any management files of importance were sealed with passwords. He tried different keys of his own devising, but nothing worked. He watched Marie at her desk. Knowing she could be seen, she crossed her long legs and gave him a sexy look. He drew a heart on a piece of paper and folded it into an airplane. Throwing it in her direction, he was dismayed to see it sucked into the air-conditioning unit that sat between them. The sun suddenly broke through the clouds, causing the photo-sensitised windows to compensate for the changing light density and darken, while the illuminated ceiling panels grew perversely brighter to compensate for the windows.

Ben despairingly studied his monitor, typing slowly, but his attention drifted to Felix's belongings. Rechecking the desk he felt something, a flat square stuck at the back of the bottom drawer. The computer disk was labelled Property of Matthew Felix . He pocketed it just as Clark appeared beside him.

'You never seem to be doing any work, Harper.'

'I was – going to ask your advice on the press releases,' said Ben. 'I take it we gloss over Mr Meadows' first diving lesson?'

Clark glowered at him. 'I don't like you, Harper. Why is that?'

'You haven't tried my cooking yet?'

'Just do your job and I won't have cause to lose my temper.'

Marie helped Ben load the disk after Clark had moved on. 'You'll need the password,' she warned. 'Everyone is expected to enter and remember their own five-letter code.'

'Didn't he tell you what his was?' asked Ben. 'I mean, you were friends.'

'I liked him, but I didn't exactly get inside his mind. Besides, we aren't supposed to tell each other things like that.'

'Then maybe he kept it written down somewhere. You okay?'

'It's nothing, just a headache. We'll have to keep looking.'

He studied Felix's belongings again, trying to make sense of it all. In a travelbag beneath the desk he found a dog-eared book of horoscopes. 'You'd think the police would have taken his belongings away.'

'They never came up here. Our security firm wouldn't let them.'

'What birth-sign was Felix?' he asked Marie.

'Gemini, I think.'

He flicked through the horoscope book to Gemini, and found a drawing of Janus. The Twin-Faced Guardian Of Doorways, Entrances And Beginnings , read the asterisked caption. He typed in 'Janus' and pressed ENTER. The disk started to open its files, but as quickly as it did, the contents corrupted. Damn the magnetics in this place…

One newspaper clipping was legible before the screen contents vanished. A photograph of the building captioned Father of 'smart' architecture commits suicide . Then the item dispersed into the ether.

'Maybe he realised something was wrong with the building and killed himself,' suggested Marie.