Philip Kerr - Gridiron

Rosa arrived with a tray. Mitch helped himself to some orange juice and some kedgeree and started to eat. He wondered if Ray's little pep talk had been the real reason for asking him over. Certainly he thought Richardson could ill afford to lose another senior member of the firm so soon after Allen Grabel. And Ray was right about one thing, at least: good technical coordinators like Mitch were hard to find.'

'When's the practical completion inspection?' asked Richardson, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

'A week Tuesday.'

'Hmm. That's what I thought.' Richardson raised his glass. 'Cheers,' he said.

Mitch tossed his back.

'Tell me, Mitch,' said Richardson, 'are you still seeing Jenny Bao?'

'It would be hard not to. She's the feng shui consultant on the Yu job.'

Richardson grinned unpleasantly. 'Come on, Mitch, you know what I mean. You're fucking her. And why the hell not? Good luck to you, that's what I say. She's a beautiful girl. I wouldn't mind fucking her myself. I always fancied having Chinese, only I never did. Is it a long-term thing, do you think?'

Mitch said nothing for a moment. There seemed little point in denying it. So he said, 'I hope so.'

'Good, good.' He shook his head. 'Alison know about it?'

'Why the sudden interest?'

'Hey, we're friends, aren't we? Can't I ask a friend a friendly question?'

Richardson smiled.

'Is it a friendly question? More to the point, Ray, how did you find out?'

'I've known about it since you took her to the marble factory in Vicenza.' He shrugged. 'A German client was staying at the same hotel as you.'

Mitch put up his hands. 'OK, OK.' He forked some kedgeree into his mouth. He had little appetite now his secret was out. 'You're not eating,' he observed.

Richardson glanced at his watch again. 'I don't want to spoil my game,' he said. 'Besides, I'm not really hungry. You can sure pick them, Mitch. I'll say that for you, buddy. I never figured you for the type.'

All of a sudden Mitch disliked himself almost as much as he disliked Ray Richardson. 'Neither did I,' he said unhappily.

'Look, Mitch, I want you to ask Jenny a small favour.'

'That means it's a large one. What is it?'

'I want you to get Jenny to sign off on the Yu building's feng shui before we go ahead and make the changes.'

'Why?'

'I'll tell you. Mr Yu himself wants to make the inspection, that's why. And he'll feel a lot happier walking around the place if he knows your fucking girlfriend has given it the OK. OK? He'll be less likely to find fault with things. If there was time to make all her half-assed changes before he came on site then we would, but there isn't. It's that simple. Look, Mitch, it's really only for one day. After that she can tear the certificate up again, come up with some new objections if she wants to. But as soon as YK gives it the nod we can hit him with our fees. It's been an expensive few months, what with opening the German office.'

'I hear you. But I'm not sure she'll do it. I know it's a hard thing for someone like you to understand, but she's got principles.'

'Promise her a week in Venice. The two of you. Any hotel you like. The Cipriani, if you want. I'll pay.'

'I'll try my best,' Mitch said wearily, 'but she won't like it. She's not just some kind of fairground gypsy, Ray. It's not a question of crossing her palm with enough silver. Jenny believes in what she does. And don't forget two people have died in that place. Jenny certainly hasn't forgotten.'

'But you will try and persuade her.'

'Yes. Yes, all right, I will try. But it won't be easy. And I want your word, Ray. That if she does sign the certificate, then she won't get screwed. That we'll carry out all the changes like we're supposed to.'

Richardson shrugged. 'Sure. No problem. And screwing her? Well that's down to you, buddy.'

'I hope it's just the feng shui that's at fault,' said Mitch.

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Relax, will you? Things will be just fine, I know it. I've got a good feeling about this job. Good luck is simply a matter of working hard and being prepared. My pre-PCI inspection is this Friday, right? With the whole project team on site. The building in action, so to speak, a working demonstration. Push a few buttons.'

Mitch decided to press a button of his own. 'That cop wants me to have the elevators checked out,' he said bluntly. 'He reckons it's possible they might have had something to do with Sam Gleig's accident.'

Richardson frowned. 'Who the hell's Sam Gleig?'

'C'mon. The security guard. The one who got killed.'

'But I thought they already arrested someone for that. One of those pain-in-the-ass demonstrators."

'They did. But they let him go again.'

'There's nothing wrong with those elevators. They're the most sophisticated elevators anywhere in California.'

'That's what I told this cop. They're working just fine. Aidan Kenny and I checked them ourselves. But he still wants Otis to come and take a look at them.'

'And where's this guy now? The one they arrested.'

'Free, I guess.'

'Free to stand outside my building and hand out more leaflets?'

'I suppose so, yes.'

'Dumb bastards.' Richardson picked up the telephone and called his secretary. 'Dumb fucking… Shannon. Get me Morgan Phillips, will you?'

He grimaced and shook his head. 'At his home? Yeah, where else? It's Sunday.' He replaced the receiver and nodded. 'I'll fix this in five minutes.'

'You're calling the deputy mayor? On a Sunday? What are you going to do, Ray?'

'Don't worry, I'll be at my most diplomatic.'

Mitch raised an eyebrow.

'Relax, Morgan's a friend of mine. We play tennis together. And believe me, he owes me more favours… I'm going to get those bastards moved off the piazza. Out of your hair. I was going to have to do it anyway: the last thing we want is them outside again when YK turns up for the PCI.'

'Why bother?' shrugged Mitch. 'They're just a bunch of kids.'

'Why bother? Mitch, one of them broke your windshield, for

Chrissakes. You could have been killed.'

'I wasn't actually in the car at the time, Ray.'

'That's not the point. Besides, one of them is a suspect in a murder inquiry. Once they've seen there's nothing wrong with those fucking elevators the cops will have to bring him back in. You can bet on it.'

'Alison? It's Allen.'

Alison Bryan sighed impatiently. 'Allen who?'

'Allen Grabel.'

She took a big bite of the apple she was holding and said: 'And?'

'I work with Mitch. At Richardsons.'

'Oh.' Alison's tone turned cooler. 'Well, that's nice for you. What do you want?'

'Is Mitch there?'

'No,' she said flatly.

'Do you know where he is?'

'Of course I know where he is. What do you think, I don't know where my own husband is? What kind of a wife do you think I am?'

'No, I didn't mean… Look, Alison, I need to get in touch with him. It's really very urgent.'

'Sure it is. It's always urgent with you people. He's at Richardson's house. Seems like they had some business to discuss. As if they don't see enough of each other during the week. You could call him there, I guess. Who knows? Maybe they're in bed together.'

'No. No, I'd rather not call him there. Look, could you ask him to call me? The minute he gets home?'

'Is it anything to do with that stupid Gridiron building?'

She always made a point of referring to smart buildings as stupid, just to irritate Mitch.

'Kind of, yes.'

'Today's Sunday. That's the day of rest in case you'd forgotten. Can't it wait until tomorrow?'

'I don't think so. And I'd rather not speak to him at the studio. It would be better if he could call me. Tell him… Tell him…'