Philip Kerr - Gridiron

Helen Hussey drew a breath and smiled uncomfortably. 'I was hoping you weren't going to ask.'

Curtis grinned back at her. 'Why's that?'

'It's a recordable multi-session CD-ROM,' she explained.

'A game? In here?'

Helen Hussey gave him a withering look. 'Not exactly, no,' she said.

'It's connected via an SCSI interface to the computer, with a date and an archive number. Each disc contains up to 700 megabytes. It's supposed to record what takes place on all the security cameras inside and outside the building. Our cameras work by cellular transmission. They're all supposed to feed into the back of that thing.' She shrugged. 'I think.'

Curtis smiled. 'Supposed to, huh?'

She gave an embarrassed sort of laugh.

'You're not going to believe this,' she said with a shrug, 'but the unit hasn't been connected yet. As far as I know it's only just been delivered.'

'Well, it looks very nice. Very nice indeed. Too bad it's not working, because then we might know exactly what happened here last night.'

'We've had a problem with our supplier.'

'What kind of problem?' Curtis sat on the edge of the desk and took another sandwich. 'These are good.'

'Well,' sighed Helen, 'they sent the wrong kind of unit. The first one wasn't what we ordered. The Yamaha records at quadruple speed. The previous one didn't. So it got returned.'

'Yours must be a tough job for a woman.' Helen bristled. 'Why do you say that?'

'Construction workers aren't exactly known for their polite language and good manners.'

'Well, neither is the LAPD.'

'You've got a point there.' Curtis looked at the sandwich and laid it down. 'Pardon me. You're right. You probably knew the guy. And I'm sitting here eating his dinner. I'm not being very sensitive am I?'

She shrugged again, as if she hardly cared.

'You know, some people, some cops, when they see a dead body, they get nauseous and lose their appetites. Me, I don't know why, but I feel hungry. Really hungry. Maybe it's because I'm just so glad I'm still alive that I want to celebrate the fact by eating something.'

Helen nodded. 'I won't have to identify him, will I?' she said.

'No, ma'am, that won't be necessary.'

'Thanks. I don't think I — ' She returned to their previous subject, feeling she owed him something more about her job.

'My job's about management and planning, not about shouting at people,' she said. 'I leave that kind of thing to my foremen. My concern is to initiate each particular operation, coordinate it with the other trades and make sure that it gets supplied with the appropriate materials. Like CD-ROM recorders. But I can cuss with the worst of them when I have to.'

'Well, if you say so, ma'am. How did you get on with Sam Gleig?'

'Well enough. He seemed like a very sweet man.'

'Did you ever have to cuss him for anything?'

'No, not ever. He was reliable and honest.'

Curtis pushed himself off the desk and opened a locker. Finding a nubuck leather jacket in there, and presuming it belonged to Sam Gleig, he took it out and started to search the pockets.

'Sam Gleig came on shift at what time last night?'

'Eight o'clock, as usual. He relieved the other guard, Dukes.'

'Someone mention me?'

It was the security guard, Dukes.

'Oh, Sergeant,' said Helen. This is — '

'We've met,' said Curtis. 'From the last time. Mr Yojo's death.'

Instinctively he looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock.

Dukes was looking bewildered. 'What's going on?'

'Irving, it's Sam,' said Helen. 'He's dead.'

'Jesus. Poor Sam.' Dukes looked at Curtis. 'What happened?'

'We think someone bashed his head in.'

'What was it, robbery or something?'

Curtis did not answer.

'When he came on duty did either of you see him?'

Dukes shrugged. 'Very briefly. I was in a hurry. I don't think we exchanged more than a couple of words. God, what a thing to happen.'

'He came up to the site office on the seventh floor,' said Helen. 'Just to say hello, really. Find out if anyone was going to be working late. The computer could have told him more easily than we could, but he liked to be sociable. Anyway, I was just finishing for the day so he came down in the elevator with me.'

'You said we.'

'Yes, I left Warren still working, Warren Aikman. He's the clerk of works. He took a phone call just as I was leaving.'

'The clerk of works. What does he do exactly?'

'He's like a site agent; only he's employed by the client as a kind of inspector.'

'You mean like a cop?'

'Kind of, I guess.'

'Would he have spoken to Sam before leaving?'

She shrugged.

'You'd have to ask him. But, frankly, it's unlikely. There's no reason at all why he would have felt obliged to call in here and inform Sam he was leaving the building. As I said, it's the computer's job to know who's still here. Sam would only have needed to tell the computer to run a check to have found out in a couple of seconds.'

Dukes sat down at the desk.

'I'll show you, if you like,' he said.

Pocketing a set of car keys and a wallet, Curtis laid the dead man's jacket on the desk and stood behind Dukes's shoulder as he clicked on an icon with the mouse and started to choose some menu options.

SECURITY SYSTEMS — YES

FULL CAMERAS AND SENSORS? — YES

INCLUDE SECURITY OFFICE? — NO

SHOW ALL OTHER OCCUPANTS? — YES

Immediately the screen showed a picture of the scene by the elevators in the basement, with all the policemen and forensic personnel who were milling around Sam Gleig's body.

'Oh God,' said Helen. 'Is that him?'

Dukes clicked the mouse again.

IDENTIFY ALL OCCUPANTS? — YES

To the high-definition picture was now added a square window with a series of names.

BASEMENT/ELEVATOR HALL:

SAM GLEIG, SECURITY GUARD, YU CORP

PATROLMAN COONEY, LAPD

PATROLMAN HERNANDEZ, LAPD

DETECTIVE SERGEANT WALLACE, LAPD

CHARLES SEIDLER, LA CORONER'S OFFICE

PHIL BANHAM, LAPD

DANIEL ROSENCRANTZ, LA CORONER'S OFHCE

ANN MOSLEY, LAPD

PATROLMAN PETE DUNCAN, LAPD

PATROLWOMAN MAGGIE FLYNN, LAPD

BASEMENT/WOMEN'S WASHROOM: JANINE JACOBSEN, LA

CORONER'S OFFICE

BASEMENT/MEN'S WASHROOM: DETECTIVE JOHN GRAHAM

LAPD DETECTIVE NATHAN COLEMAN, LAPD

'Big brother,' breathed Curtis. He sneaked a sideways look at Helen Hussey: at her beautiful red hair and then down the front of her mauve silk blouse. Her breasts were large, with lots of tiny freckles.

'Impressive huh?' she said, and, feeling his eyes upon her, smiled: if Curtis had been a little younger she might have found him quite attractive.

'Very,' said Curtis and returned his gaze to the screen.

'Hey, that's my partner in the John. Can the computer see in there too?'

'Not as such,' said Dukes. 'It uses heat sensors, acoustic detectors, passive infra-red sensors and microphones to check who's in there. Voice prints. Same as in the elevator.'

'That can't be very private,' said Curtis. 'What does the computer do if you spend too long in there? Sound an alarm?'

Dukes grinned. 'Really, the computer observes your privacy,' he insisted. 'It's not like it's going to broadcast the sound around the building for everyone's amusement. These washroom checks are for everyone's safety.'

Curtis grunted, only half-convinced. 'I guess we ought to be grateful that they haven't done away with the men's room altogether,' he said.

'Gee, I bet that bugs these architect guys. I mean, it's the plumbing that keeps a building on the ground, isn't it? Reminds them that any building has to be used by human beings.'

Helen and Dukes exchanged a grin.

'I can see you haven't used one of our washrooms yet, Sergeant Curtis,' chuckled Dukes.