Philip Kerr - Gridiron

Curtis was still opening and closing his mouth like a surprised fish. The wonder of it was that none of those cops working in the basement had proved positive. Curtis knew that Coleman smoked a little dope now and again. Quite likely some of the others too. He could just see the look on the police commissioner's face if any of the newspapers found out that officers investigating a murder had been picked up for drug abuse by a smart building that had been the scene of a crime.

Mitch sipped his coffee, enjoying the policeman's surprise. 'So,' he said finally. 'You can see how it was impossible for Sam to have used dope.'

Curtis remained unconvinced. 'Maybe he just went outside and took a leak on the piazza somewhere.'

'I doubt it,' said Mitch. 'The piazza is subject to security-camera surveillance, and the computer is programmed to be on the alert for that kind of thing. If the CCTV does see something then the computer is programmed to call the police. Sam knew that. I can't imagine he would have taken the risk.'

'No, I guess not.' Curtis grinned. 'Gee, I bet they love you down at central dispatch.'

'Take my word for it. He was clean.'

Curtis stood up and went back to the window. 'Maybe you're right,' he said. 'But someone killed him. Here. And in your client's building.'

'I'd like to help,' said Mitch. 'Anything I can do, just ask. My firm is as anxious to get this cleared up as you are, believe me. It creates a bad impression. As if maybe this is not such a smart building after all.'

'I had the same thought myself.'

'Do you mind me asking what you're going to tell the media?' Mitch asked.

'I hadn't given it much thought yet. Probably up to my lieutenant and the press office.'

'Could I ask you a small favour? When you do decide to brief the media, I wonder if I might ask you to be careful how you choose your words. It would be a great pity if they were to get hold of the idea that somehow what happened was the fault of the building itself, you know? I mean, from what you've already told me it sounds as if Sam Gleig admitted his own murderer to the building, for whatever reason. I'd be grateful if you could bear that in mind.'

Curtis nodded sourly. 'I'll do my best,' he said. 'In return, there's something you can do for me.'

'Name it.'

'I need to get hold of Sam Gleig's personnel records.'

Next to the elevators on the fortieth floor was a glass case containing the gilt-bronze figure of a Luohan monk. Curtis admired it briefly before stepping into the car alongside Mitch.

'Mr Yu is a great collector,' explained Mitch. 'There's going to be an artefact like this on every floor.'

'What's that he's holding?' he said. 'A slide rule?'

'I think it's a folded fan.'

'Ancient air-conditioning, huh?'

'Something like that. The data centre please, Abraham,' said Mitch. The doors closed with a quiet hiss of air.

'You know,' said Mitch, 'I wouldn't want to tell you your job, but isn't there another possible explanation for what's happened? I mean, apart from Sam Gleig's past.'

'I'm all ears,' said Curtis.

'It's just that both Ray Richardson and the Yu Corporation have their respective enemies. In Ray's case it's a matter of a few personal grudges. People who hate the kind of buildings he designs. For instance, there's a time capsule underneath the foundations and one of the things it contains is some hate mail for him. And there are people who have worked for him who dislike him.'

'Does that include you?'

'Oh, I admire him very much.' Curtis grinned.

'I think that answers my question.'

Mitch shrugged apologetically. 'He's a difficult person.'

'Most very rich people are.'

Mitch didn't answer. The elevator came to a halt and they stepped into the corridor next to a newly arrived and identically positioned glass case containing a jade horse's head.

'And the Yu Corp?' prompted Curtis. 'You said that they have enemies too. Do you mean those kids out front?'

'I think they're just the tip of the iceberg,' said Mitch, ushering Curtis along the edge of the atrium. 'In parts of the Asian Pacific Rim, business can be quite rough. That's why all the glass in this building is bulletproof. Why the security systems are so tight.' He stopped and pointed down. 'Take this atrium. It's really just a con job. It gives the impression of a company that's accessible to the public and at the same time acts as a security barrier. The reason for the hologram on the front desk is to forestall a potential hostage situation.'

'Sam Gleig gets a major-sized headache because someone bears your boss or his client a grudge?' Curtis shook his head. 'I'm afraid I can't buy that.'

'Well, suppose it was just accidental? Suppose someone came in here intent on causing trouble and Sam just got in the way?'

'It's possible. But only just. Gleig's gun was in his holster. It didn't look like he was expecting trouble. On the other hand, if Sam knew his attacker then he would have been off his guard. When you mentioned your boss's enemies, did you have anyone specific in mind?'

Mitch thought about Allen Grabel.

'No,' he said.

'What about this guy Warren Aikman?'

'If he wanted to hurt Richardson there would be better ways of doing it within the normal course of his work.'

'Well, let me know if you think of anyone.'

'Sure.'

Curtis shook his head. 'Of course, I can't say I'm surprised that the architect of a place like this has enemies.'

'You don't like it?'

'Every time I come here I like it less and less. Maybe it's the things you and your people tell me about it. I don't know.' He shook his head, trying to put his finger on it. 'I think maybe it lacks soul.'

'It's the future,' argued Mitch. 'Really it is. Some day all offices will be built this way.'

Curtis laughed and showed Mitch his wrist.

'See this watch? It's a Seiko. Lousy timekeeper. I still remember the advertising slogan they were using when I bought the thing. "Some day all watches will be made this way." God, I hope not.'

Mitch gazed around him. 'You know, I think of it as a kind of cathedral.'

'To what? Man's fear of his fellow man?'

'To the virtue of making things. To the creative power of technology. To man's ingenuity.'

'Being a cop, I guess I don't have much faith in human ingenuity. But if this is a cathedral then I'm an atheist.'

Bob Beech was about to send the latest batch of stolen data across the satellite when he saw Mitch and Curtis coming through the doors of the computer room. He touched the wide flat screen and returned it to the standard desktop display: the telephone, Rolodex, calculator, diary, in-

and out-trays, clock, TV set, radio, answering machine were all computer icons. There was even a desk drawer, rubber stamp, filing cabinet and a picture window with a pleasant view of Griffith Park as seen from the Gridiron roof.

'Bob,' said Mitch advancing into the centre of the circle, 'you remember Detective Sergeant Curtis.'

'Sure.'

'You've heard what happened this morning?'

Beech shrugged and nodded.

Curtis took the man in: the fisherman's gilet stuffed with discs, tapes, keys, chewing gum and pens; the sensible brown Oxfords in need of a polish; the fingernails bitten to the quick; and, underneath the lugubrious-looking moustache, the polite smile flicking as he feigned interest in what had happened. Curtis was an old hand at spotting when he was being tolerated. It was obvious that Beech just wanted to get back to whatever it was that he had been doing before being disturbed.

'Poor old Sam,' said Beech. 'Do you have any idea who did it yet?'

'Not yet, sir. But I was hoping to see his personnel file. There might be something there that will help. Also, I wondered if there was a way the computer had of knowing exactly who was in the building after ten o'clock last night.' He knew there was. But he wanted to prolong his stay in the computer room.