Philip Kerr - Gridiron

Allen Grabel had been drinking all day when, just after nine o'clock, he narrowly missed being knocked down by Mitch's car. He was certain that Mitch hadn't recognized him, if only because he was wearing a cheap Panama hat. He had seen the woman in the passenger seat only long enough to know that she was not Mitch's wife. Grabel asked himself what it was that had kept the two of them so late in the building. All he had was his bottle. Even though he had fallen down just short of the car's wheels, he had kept a tight grip on that. That was something.

Grabel reached his basement room and closed the door. He sat down on the camp bed and took a swig from his bottle. It struck him as hardly fair that there should be two women in Mitch's life and none at all in his own. Not that he had anything against Mitch. It was Richardson he hated. Hated him bad enough to want to see him dead. Ordinarily Grabel was not a man to bear a grudge. But he had been giving quite a lot of thought to how he might get back at his former employer.

Hideki Yojo typed a string of program instructions and leaned back in his chair, flexing his neck against his clasped hands and reflecting on the happy fact that his headaches seemed to have improved since seeing Aidan Kenny's chiropractor. It was several days since he had suffered a bad one. He felt better than he had done in a long while. Probably there was nothing to worry about. Not that Yojo was complacent about his health. Never had been. The blood pressure Abraham had noted while Yojo was accessing his work-station with the flat of his hand was maybe just a little high. Abraham had also been monitoring Yojo's urine and had alerted him to the high proteins and sugar it contained. There was no doubt about it, thought Yojo. Once the Yu-5 system was installed he was going to have to try and spend less time sitting in front of a screen. This was the third night in a row he had worked late to iron out a glitch with the hologram software. Maybe he would erase the custom-made program that he had designed to allow him to circumvent the Yu Corporation's forthcoming employee exercise program and try and get himself into shape. He would get out and about a little more. See a couple of old boyfriends. Perhaps visit a few of his old haunts and try and find a new one. Have some sex. There was no point in earning a fortune if you never got a chance to enjoy the fruits of your labour. He had remained celibate for too long. It was time he had some fun. Right now it was probably time he went home. Surely he had solved the problem.

His screen and desk lamp flickered momentarily.

Yojo thumped the screen with the flat of his hand. It seemed to correct itself.

'Is there some kind of electrical fault, Abraham?'

'Negative.'

'Then what was it?'

'A power surge,' said the computer.

'The other day a spike, and now this. What gives? It's lucky we have a Powerbak generator, huh?'

'Yes, sir.'

The blow from his hand had left the screen colour looking slightly impure.

'Degauss the screen, will you?'

'Yes, sir.'

Yojo leaned towards the desk lamp. Italian, of course. The simplicity and elegance of the design were unmistakable. Yojo rapped the transformer drum with his knuckles. The light from the tiny bulb steadied and he returned his attention to the screen, quickly reviewing the evening's transactions.

He was finished, surely. The hologram software would work now.

'Congratulate me, Abraham. I just fixed our problem.'

'Well done, Mr Yojo, sir,' said the English voice, very like a well-bred butler.

'Would you check over the hologram program, please?'

'As you wish, sir.'

The computer checked over the work and reported that it would function perfectly.

'That's a relief,' said Yojo. 'I've had enough for one night.'

'Do you wish me to activate the hologram control suite?'

'Negative,' he said. 'It's time to return to RL I think. Real life awaits me.' He yawned and stretched simultaneously. 'We can run it in the morning, Abraham. That's if you've got nothing better to do.' He grinned and rubbed his eyes. 'God, I hate this room. No windows. Whose dumb idea was that?'

'I have no idea, sir.'

'What's the weather like outside?'

The computer flashed a picture on screen of the purpling sky above Los Angeles.

'It looks like a nice evening,' said computer. 'A less than 5 per cent chance of precipitation.'

'How's the traffic?'

'On the Freeway, or the Information Superhighway?'

'Freeway first.'

'Clear.'

'And the ISH?'

'Because of your presence here tonight I have not yet had a chance to leave the building and find out. But last night was busy. A lot of surfers on the silicon.'

'Any share tips?'

'If you have any British Telecom, I would sell. And Viacom will make an offer for Fox.'

'Fox, huh? Better get myself some of those. Thanks, Abe. Well, I think I'll be getting along home. It's been a long day. And I could use a bath. Actually I could use a lot of things besides. Like a good fuck and a new car. But a bath will have to do for now.'

'Yes, sir.'

Yojo's hand, reaching for the lamp switch, stayed where it was. He turned in his chair and looked over his shoulder. For a moment he thought he had heard footsteps on the little bridge that led away from the glass door of the computer room. He half expected to see Sam Gleig coming round to shoot the breeze like he sometimes did. But there was no one. And a quick check on the computer revealed that Sam was where he usually was, in his office on the atrium floor.

'I must be hearing things,' he mumbled.

He wondered if Sam knew he would be fired as soon as the security systems were fully functional. He himself had no qualms about the loss of a couple of security guards. There was no point in having a dog and wagging its tail yourself.

'It's possible that what you heard was the sound of the elevator doors opening, sir. While we were speaking I brought a car up here so you would not be kept waiting.'

'Thoughtful of you, Abraham.'

'Is there anything more you wish me to do, sir?'

'I doubt it, Abraham. If there was, I guess you would have done it already. Isn't that right?'

'Yes, sir.'

Mitch was still mad at himself when he drove into the office the next morning for the weekly project team meeting. Why had he agreed to go to a Chinese restaurant, of all places? He ought to have thought that some of the demonstrators from the piazza might be there and might have recognized him. The meal, although good, had taken longer than they had expected and it was already late when they discovered the car. By the time the AAA turned up with a replacement windscreen it was well past midnight. So when Mitch finally made it home Alison had been spoiling for a fight. He even had to show her the AAA paperwork before she believed his story. Then, after breakfast, just as he was getting ready to leave the house, she returned to the subject, having taken a closer look at the AAA docket.

'What were you doing at the Mon Kee Restaurant in North Spring Street anyway?'

'What do you think I was doing? I was having a quick bite of dinner.'

'Who with?'

'With some of the guys on the project team, of course. Look, honey, I told you I was going to be late last night.'

'Come on, Mitch,' she said. 'There's late and there's late. You know that if you're going to be later than midnight you call. Who precisely was there?'

Mitch glanced at his watch. This was going to make him late for the meeting.

'Do we have to do this now?' he pleaded.

'I just want to know who was there, that's all. Is that so unreasonable?'

Alison was a tall, subterraneanly-voiced creature of considerable elegance, with dark, Gothic shadows under her brown eyes. Her straight hair was long and lustrous but she had started to remind Mitch of the Charles Addams character, Morticia.

'Is it such a big deal that I should want to know who my husband was with until one a.m.?'

'No, I suppose not,' he said. 'All right then, there was Hideki Yojo, Bob Beech, Aidan Kenny and Jenny Bao.'

'A table for five?'

'That's right.'

'Did you make a reservation?'

'For Pete's sake, Alison. It was just a kind of spur-of-the-moment thing. We'd all been working late. We were hungry. You know I would have been home before midnight if it hadn't been for the asshole with the tyre wrench. And I would have called, right? But I was so mad about what happened that it put everything else out of my head. And I'm sorry, really sorry, to have to admit that included you, sweetheart.'

'You should have a car phone. Other people have car phones, Mitch. Why don't you? I like to be in touch with you.'

Mitch took her bony shoulders in his hands.

'You know how I feel about car phones. I have to have some time to myself and the car is about the only place I can get it. If I had a phone I'd have people from the team calling me up all the time. Mainly Ray Richardson. Fix this, Mitch. Fix that. Look, I'll be home early tonight, I promise. We can talk then. But I really do have to go now.'

He kissed her on the forehead and left.

Mitch was twenty minutes late for the meeting. He hated being late for anything. Especially when he was the bearer of awkward news. He was going to have to tell them the latest bulletin on the Gridiron's feng shui . There were times when he wished Jenny made her living in some other way. He could anticipate what they were all going to say and it grieved him that the woman he loved was going to be abused in his presence.

'Mitch,' said Ray Richardson, 'Glad you decided to make it.'

He decided to wait for the right moment to give them the bad tidings. The project team and Bob Beech were seated in front of a 28-inch television screen that was receiving the first pictures down the line from the Gridiron. Mitch glanced at Kay, winked and then sat down beside her. She was wearing a see-through black blouse that permitted an uninterrupted view of her bra. She smiled encouragingly back at him. On-screen was an image of the atrium and the rectangular pond that surrounded the dicotyledon tree.

'Kay? said Richardson, 'are you finished making Mitch feel welcome?

You know, that's a nice blouse you're wearing.'

'Thank you, Ray,' she smiled.

'Has anyone noticed how Kay wears a lot of these see-through blouses? I mean, you always know what colour brassiere she's wearing, right?' Richardson grinned unpleasantly. 'It came to me just the other day: Kay is to the brassiere what Superman was to Y-fronts.'

Everyone laughed except Mitch and Kay.

'That's very amusing, Ray.' Kay wiped the smile from her face and stabbed a button on her laptop as if she was trying to poke Richardson's eye out. Joan's laughter irritated her the most. What did a fat bitch like that have to laugh about? Kay wondered if either of them would laugh if she reminded Richardson of a night only a few months ago when the two of them had found themselves alone in the kitchen and she had let him put his hand inside her brassiere. Not to mention her panties. She was glad it had not got much further than that.

A 3-D drawing of the new round pond for the tree filled the screen. With her thumb on the thimble-sized mouse Kay steered the picture right round the image. Everyone continued to look at her.

She felt herself colour. 'Look, are you interested in the design, or my brassiere?'

'Well, if you're offering a choice — ' Levine uttered a loud guffaw.

'I'm sorry, Kay, I was just kidding. No, that looks just fine,' said Richardson. 'But did it really take a whole week to get it designed?'