Gridiron - Philip Kerr

Even informally the inspection looked like it was going to take up one whole long day. Tony Levine would normally have preferred

Richardson's pre-PCI to have been carried out across several short periods rather than one protracted one when, through Richardson's own irritability, the result might be prejudiced. But as usual, his senior was working to a tight schedule.

After five hours of trooping round the building like a bus-load of tourists, the project team had progressed as far as the Gridiron's swimming pool. Measuring twenty-five metres long and eight metres wide, this was located under a curving rectangular louvred glass roof at the rear of the building and, with the exception of the sapphire colour of the 85deg water, everything — the walls, the floor tiles, HVAC louvres, even the corrosion protection barrier coating on the ceiling's steel trusses —

was the same grey shade of white. The general effect was both antiseptic and relaxing.

Behind a glass wall that protected the poolside refreshment area from being splashed by swimmers, Richardson checked the adhesion of tiles, the cleanliness of surfaces, the electric switches on the walls, the gully gratings on the floor, the high output coil solar cylinders for heating the water, and the joins between the suspended panels of silicone glazing.

'Do you want to enter the pool area, Ray?' asked Helen Hussey.

'Why not?'

'Then everyone will have to remove their shoes to protect the pool deck,' she ordered. 'The last thing we want are heel marks on those nice white tiles.'

'Good thinking,' he said. Leaning against the wall to remove his handmade English shoes, another thought occurred to him.

'It certainly looks like a nice enough pool. But looks are one thing, the experience another. I mean, what's it like to swim in? Did anyone think to bring a costume? Because someone should go in and report on what it's like. Maybe it's too warm. Or too cold. Or too chemical.'

'Or too wet,' someone murmured.

He looked at the team and waited.

'How about a volunteer? I'd go in myself if I had time, it looks so good.'

'Me too,' echoed Joan. 'But Ray's right, of course. Design considerations are one thing. Bather acceptability is another.'

Finally Kay Killen said, 'Well, I don't mind swimming in my underwear.' She smiled brightly and shrugged. 'In fact, I could use a nice swim. My feet are killing me.'

'Good girl,' said Richardson.

While Kay went into a changing room and removed her clothes, Joan, Tony Levine, Helen Hussey and Marty Birnbaum took off their shoes and followed Richardson on to the pool deck. Mitch stayed behind the glass wall with Aidan Kenny, Willis Ellery and David Arnon.

'You know what this reminds me of?' said Arnon. 'It's like we're all party functionaries following Hitler round his new Reich's Chancellery. Joan's Martin Bormann, right? Agrees with whatever he says. Any minute now the guy's going to fall down and start chewing the poolside, after which he'll send us all to a concentration camp.'

'Or back to the office,' shrugged Mitch. 'Same thing, I guess.'

They watched as Joan bent down and dipped her fat, heavily ringed hand into the water.

'So she's not a vampire,' remarked Kenny.

'Isn't that running water?' laughed Mitch.

'You're both wrong,' said Arnon. 'She's only putting her hand in the water to make it colder. Like the Snow Queen. Just in case Kay might enjoy it.'

'Bitch,' snarled Ellery. 'Why doesn't someone shove her in?'

'You go right ahead, Willis,' said Mitch. 'We'll sponsor you.'

Kay appeared on the pool deck wearing a purple bra and panties.

'Purple,' Arnon said triumphantly. 'What did I tell you? Pay up, suckers.'

The other three men groaned and handed him $5 bills as Kay walked to the poolside, collected herself with simian toes curled over the edge, and then executed a perfect dive, with no more splash than a well trained dolphin.

'What's the water like, Kay?' called Richardson.

'Beautiful,' she said, surfacing. 'I mean, really warm.'

'What kind of girl wears purple underwear?' complained Ellery.

'Girl with a tattoo, that's who,' said Arnon. 'You see that thing round her ankle?'

He was referring to the delicate daisy-chain of red-and-blue flowers that made Kay's foot look as if it had been carefully sewn on to her leg by some botanically-minded genius of modern micro-surgery.

'Where does Dave get his information. That's what I'd like to know?' said Ellery.

'Sometimes Kay wears see-through blouses,' said Kenny.

Arnon kicked off his shoes and moved towards the door to the pool deck.

'Let me through,' he grinned through his beard, 'I'm a lifeguard.'

Kay started to crawl up the length of the pool. She had the strong, easy stroke of someone who was used to being in the water.

'I think I'd better take a closer look myself,' said Ellery. He removed his shoes and followed Arnon's taller figure.

'That girl is bait,' said Kenny. 'I mean, Playboy centrefold. Take a closer look and you'll probably find a staple through her navel.'

'Last night doesn't seem to have affected her much,' said Mitch.

'The ghost?' said Kenny. 'I think we've found an explanation. Bob's trying to check it out. Having seen that we no longer have a night-time security guard, Abraham created one. Or, at least, a facsimile.'

'What do you mean, a facsimile?'

'A moving real-time image. A hologram. It's perfectly logical. I don't know why I didn't think of it last night. Tired, I guess. This kind of thing falls within Abraham's learning parameter. Without the real Sam Gleig there last night, Abraham created the next best thing. And after all, that's the whole point of the hologram, isn't it? To humanize an essentially inhuman system?'

'Aid, it damn near scared the life out of the girl.' Mitch shook his head angrily. 'She could have had a heart attack or something.'

'I know, I know.'

'She really thought that she'd seen a ghost. I'm not sure I wouldn't have had the same thought myself.'

'Abraham doesn't know about ghosts. He doesn't even understand the concept of death. Beech and I wasted an hour this morning trying to explain it to him. He's still on it. We just want to find out what happened, that's all.'

'And to prevent it from happening again, I hope.'

'Mitch,' Kenny said patiently, 'I don't think you fully appreciate the significance of what has happened here. This is great news. Beech is beside himself with excitement. I mean, the computer took an initiative. It didn't wait to be told something, or to choose from a set of prescribed heuristics. Abraham just went ahead and did it.'

'And what does that mean?'

'For a start it means that this building is a lot fucking smarter than up till now anyone has realized.'

Mitch shook his head. 'I'm not sure I like the idea of a computer that takes the initiative.'

'Look, when you think about it, this is just the logical consequence of having a neural net. A learning curve. Except that Abraham is learning things a lot faster than we thought he would.' Kenny grinned enthusiastically. 'You're taking this the wrong way, Mitch, really you are. I thought you'd be pleased.'

'How's that?'

'You'd prefer it if this place really was haunted? Or that Kay was seeing things? Come on, be reasonable.'

Mitch shrugged and then shook his head. 'No. I don't know. But there's something that doesn't make sense and I'm not sure what.' Mitch nodded at the glass. Richardson and his little entourage were walking backwards towards the door. 'He's coming back.'

'We'll talk about this later, OK? With Beech.'

'OK.'

'You're quite a swimmer, Kay,' Richardson was saying over his shoulder.

'I ought to be,' she said, still swimming. 'I was virtually raised on Huntington Beach.'

'You've got a lot of guts too: going in the water in just your underwear, in front of these dirty-minded bastards we work with. Stay in the water as long as you want, Kay. You've earned it.'

'Thanks, I think I will.'

'Let's take a look at those flotation tanks.'

-###-

'Welcome to the offices of the Yu Corporation, LA's smartest building. Hi! I'm Kelly Pendry and, for your convenience, I'm here to tell you what to do next. You won't however…'

'Jesus, not this again,' laughed Curtis. 'She could get to be a real pain in the ass.'

'And, since this is a completely electronic office, we cannot accept surface mail.'

'I wonder how that goes down with the mailman?' said Coleman.

'Maybe I should try it some time,' said Curtis. 'Might stop me getting so many bills. Do we really have to wait until the end of the record?'

'… and the person who is expecting to meet you…'

'What the hell's wrong with having a real person on the front desk anyway?' He sniffed the air suspiciously.

'Security, Frank. What else? Would you want your wife to sit there on her own and speak to some of the creeps that come in?'

Curtis nodded. 'Actually, I think they told me that. Mitchell Bryan. He said the Yu Corp are scared someone might kidnap a real receptionist, if they had one. What's that smell, Nat?'

'Man, this is what it's going to be like, more and more,' Coleman chuckled.

'Like rotten meat?'

'I can't smell anything. You're not obsolete, Frank. You've just got to learn a new way of doing things.'

'… as your voice will be digitally encoded for security purposes.'

'Detective Sergeant Frank Curtis, LAPD. I'd like to speak to Helen Hussey, or Mitchell Bryan, from Richardson Associates.' He stepped back from the desk. 'Maybe you're right at that, Nat.'

'Detective Nathan Coleman, LAPD. I'd like to see them too. Either one. Comprendo?'

'Thank you,' said Kelly. 'Please wait a moment.'

'Computers,' spat Curtis.

'You've got to be patient, Frank. That's all. Take my nephew, Dean. He's seven years old and he already knows more about computers than I ever will. You know why? Because he's patient. Because he's got all the time in the world. Jesus, if I had the time to spend on it he does I'd be Bill fucking Gates.'

'Please proceed to the elevator area where someone will collect you.'

They went through the glass doors, glancing up the height of the tree, and noticing a beautiful Chinese woman who was trying to collect carp from the ornamental pond with a landing net.

'Cu-ute,' murmured Coleman.

The two men stopped and looked into the water.

'Had a bite yet?' quipped Curtis.

The Chinese woman smiled pleasantly and pointed to a large plastic container by her feet in which three fish were now swimming. Nearby was what looked like a small wooden packing case. Inside it was a round stone crucible, stacked with sticks of charcoal.

'But even with a net, it's not so easy,' she said.

'You planning a barbecue?' said Coleman.

When the woman looked puzzled Coleman nodded towards the charcoal stove.

'Me, I like my goldfish crispy on the outside. And still on the bone, please.'

'Cut it out, will you?' said Curtis. He looked at the woman. 'I apologize for my colleague. He goes to the movies a lot.'

The woman gave a little bow and smiled a perfect smile. 'I'm used to wisecracks in my line of work, believe me.'

'Well, good luck,' said Curtis.

'That's the general idea,' she replied.

They were in the gymnasium when Abraham called to tell Mitch that there were two detectives who wanted to speak to him.

'LAPD,' he said, replacing the telephone. 'They're by the front desk. I'd better go and see what they want.'

'Get rid of them, Mitch,' said Richardson. 'We've still got a lot of ground to cover.'

Mitch started towards the atrium. Cops. That was all he needed, today of all days. As he came through the doors he caught sight of Jenny standing beside the pool, and the two Homicide detectives waiting patiently by the elevators. He heard a door open, some footsteps, and then a voice behind him say:

'Mitch.'

He turned to face a tall man whom he had to look twice at to recognize. The face was covered with several days' growth of stubble. The eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark shadows. His sports coat looked like he had slept in it. And the man wearing it had a bad case of the shakes.

'Jesus, Allen, what are you doing here?'

'I have to speak to you, Mitch.'

'You look like shit. What the hell's happened to you? Are you ill? I tried to call you, but you're never home.'

Grabel rubbed his jaw nervously. 'I'm OK,' he said.

'Your eye. What happened to your eye?'

'My eye?' Grabel touched the skin above his cheekbones and discovered that it felt tender. 'I dunno. Must've banged into something, I guess. Mitch, it's important. Can we go somewhere else? I'd rather not talk in here.'

Mitch was looking over his shoulder at the two policemen. He could see that they were watching him and wondered what their naturally suspicious minds must have thought of the scene being played out here.

'There's something I have to tell you.'

'Allen, you picked a hell of a day, you know that? Richardson is back there on the pool deck with the whole project team. There are two cops over there waiting to speak to me. And Jenny Bao is about to perform a feng shui ceremony to drive the evil spirits out of the building.'

Grabel frowned, then shuddered and grabbed Mitch by the arm.

'What did you say?' he said loudly. 'You said evil spirits?'

Mitch glanced back at the cops again. Now that he was closer to Grabel he could smell him. He was shocked to discover his former colleague was wreathed in the rank, sour-sweet odour of an authentic bum.

'Take it easy will you, Allen? It's just, y'know, the usual feng shui bullshit, that's all.' He shrugged. 'Will you give me a few minutes? I've got to get rid of these cops. Hold on a moment. You'd better not wait down here, Richardson might see you. Why don't you go up to the penthouse? The CEO's private suite. And wait for me there.'

'No way!'

Mitch recoiled from Grabel's explosion of unbrushed teeth.

'Look, I'll wait for you downstairs, in the garage, OK?'

Mitch fixed a smile to his face and walked towards the two policemen.

-###-

'What the fuck was all that about?' Curtis said quietly. 'Guy looked like he was a derelict.'

'Maybe he's the architect,' Coleman suggested.

'I'm sorry, gentlemen,' said Mitch, shaking them both by the hand, 'I should have got back to you before now. The report from the Otis engineer has been sitting on my desk since Wednesday morning, but the last couple of days have been just impossible. Let's go upstairs and discuss it, shall we?'

'Should we take the stairs?' Curtis asked pointedly.

'I think you'll find that the report confirms our own examination — the elevators are working just fine. Please,' he ushered them towards the elevators, 'there's absolutely no reason to feel nervous, I can assure you.'