Glass (21 page)

20

In the End

I became aware of Archimedes nipping at my ankle, the little bastard, and hot rain falling on my head. I realised I was naked and vertical. I had fallen asleep in the shower. I stumbled out, taking out a couple of the shower's curtain rings, and found my phone. Seven missed calls. I was very, very late.

I threw on my clothes, gathered up my equipment, strapped myself into my pouches and holsters and ran outside. Frank was outside, reading his little book.

‘Frank, I'm so sorry.'

‘That's all right,' he squeaked. ‘I've been doing some reading.'

‘What is that book you're always reading?' I asked.

‘New one every week. Police procedurals.'

‘Oh. Any good?'

‘Yeah. Reckon I could get away with a murder if I done one now.'

He opened the door and I sat inside. The seat hugged me, but my quads and bottom ached. Frank got in the other side and we took off, the acceleration forcing my head back onto the headrest. I let the orchestra wash over me as we sped down alleys and up one-way streets, just inches from skips and the sleeping homeless. I still found it amazing that he'd never hit anyone.

‘Have you been working with Blades for a while?' I asked as we passed Monument.
⁷²

‘Years.'

‘Would you say you know him pretty well?'

‘Better than he thinks. I overhear a lot. He doesn't take much notice of me because I'm black. He's a bit of a prick like that.'

‘Oh.' I let the thought hang for a moment. ‘Has he ever talked about, ah, fascism? Getting rid of foreigners, that sort of thing?'

‘Yeah, it's his favourite party piece. Mostly when he's drunk.'

‘And it doesn't bother you? Working for a guy like that?'

‘Why would it bother me? I'll take as much of his money as he wants to give me.'

‘You know what I like about you, Frank? You're imperturbable.'

He nodded appreciatively, and we said no more.

When I arrived at the Shard, the sun was already up and I could see the platforms out like little magnets stuck to the side of the building. There were almost no clouds and, even through my glasses, the world seemed drawn in crisp lines, the angles and shadows of the building sharp and clear.

I went in on my own to see the site manager, who gave me a pass. It was a long and lonely lift to base camp, where everyone's bags and lunch boxes sat in heaps on the floor. There was no point in trying to get out there now, I could hardly shimmy down a cable and commence work. I looked around the newly furnished floors, watching people sweep up dust and fit mirrors behind drinks bars.

One of the gondolas was stationed where I was, so I decided to go out. I waved my pass at a nosy cleaning lady and wandered up to the sixty-sixth-floor maintenance deck. It was the second day that we'd had no wind, and I could see the steel mesh cables that were holding the cradle below, taut and near vertical. It was a beautiful day. From here, the higher part of the building mirrored the sky, a cool blue with one lone lamb of a cloud drifting in to meet its reflection. The sun was really up now, and soothed my goosebumps. I took a great breath, and soaked it all up. Perhaps I would go and get a glass of water.

I was just on my way back in when I spotted one of the video cameras, lying on its back, as if sunbathing. Someone had obviously forgotten to take it with them and left it there. I picked it up and looked at the screen. The video timer was running down, and not up, as I would have expected. And why would they have been recording the sky?

It was really heavy. And there would be tens of other cameras, all the same, stationed around the whole building. All of them heavy. All counting down. Ticking down towards zero. Heavy, ticking electronics, all over the building. Ticking.

My first instinct, when I realised that the camera was a bomb, was to throw it over the side, but I obviously couldn't do that. I ran back in, grabbed a spare sheet of cardboard and wrote, OUT OF ORDER. I taped the sign to the inside of one of the lifts and put the camera inside. Then I gathered any others I could see, and took the lift up as far as it would go, to the highest level where there were offices. Above it, there were only stairs up to what was once supposed to be a radiator system, but had already been repurposed. I went up to the roof and found another camera there. There were a couple more on what would become the tourists' viewing platform, and a few in the service lift. I took the cameras I'd found and rode to the ground floor. I explained what I could to Frank. We carried the cameras out together, leaving them in his car boot.

‘What are we going to do with all the bombs?' I asked frantically.

‘Loads of time before they go off. You go back up there and keep him distracted,' said Frank, waving his little book. ‘He might have some kind of remote control trigger. He'll be going on his break now. I'll phone the muck once you're back out on the cradles, he'll be helpless by then.'

I looked back up at the summit, and true enough, it looked like they were all coming in for lunch. I went back inside and made for the lift.

At base camp, the people were just coming in, chatting excitably. I didn't know who was in on the plot, so I thought it best to steer clear of the cameras-are-bombs issue entirely. People ate sandwiches and drank tea from thermal flasks. Generally the mood was upbeat, but I kept looking out for signs that one of them might be preparing their last rites. Someone handed me a coffee which I gulped down. I'd had almost no sleep and hadn't eaten since the previous night. Come to think of it, all I'd had then was a whisky and half a steak.

Blades found me and split me off from a cluster.

‘What happened this morning? I thought you were a team player.'

‘I'm sorry, I …' I couldn't believe I was apologising to the man.

‘Forget it. So,' he said, slapping me hard on the back, ‘did you see the Palace game last night?'

‘Oh. Um, yes. Yeah. It was good. A good match.'

Blades smiled, showing off his canines. ‘There wasn't a Palace game last night, you kiss-ass. Don't think I can't see through you.'

He moved off to talk to others, and I was left alone.

‘You all right mate? You look a bit white.' Pete was getting a bottle of Lucozade from his holdall by my foot. He looked up at me with a childlike concern.

‘Yes. Yes, I'm fine thanks. How about you? Have you got anything fun planned over the weekend?'

‘Nah, nothing much mate. Gotta live in the moment. Anyways, after today I'll probably be out for the count. You?'

‘Might catch up with relatives,' I said.
Out for the count
, eh? I'd had him down as a good guy.

I got a text from Frank, telling me he was taking the cameras out of range of Blades and whatever happened, we should rendezvous at 3 p.m. Where should he meet me?

People packed up their stuff. The break was ending. Blades took me with him into a lift, and we took the remaining stairs to the very top. I had become aware of every twitch he made beside me. He had rolled his uniform down to his waist, tying the arms, with only a vest underneath. I could see pools of shadow grow and disappear as he flexed and unflexed his arms. He wasn't a big man, but his hands looked as strong as clamps, and he had that nervous tension I sometimes saw in drug addicts on the street, as if at any moment he might just lunge forward and sink those canines into my nose.

We got out onto the maintenance deck, set the gondola and he climbed into the cradle. I noted with a certain satisfaction that he hadn't clipped himself on. But then really, what was I going to do – hoist him over the side?

We were just preparing to drop, and I hadn't yet heard any sirens. The cradle ran on an automated reel that would take forty-odd minutes to come back up once it was fully extended. If Blades didn't know we'd taken the cameras, he'd continue washing the windows in blissful ignorance. If he did find out, he wouldn't suspect me, because I'd be up here with him. I climbed into the cradle after him, feeling very clever.

We got our equipment ready. I clipped myself securely on, twice. I had my standard spray, squeegee, suction cup, scraper, titanium scraper, GOMORRAH. Check. Glasses pushed up to bridge of nose. Check. T-shirt still too small, possibly still too heavy, but the cradle felt pretty solid. I doubted any human could break the steel mesh cables. You could hang a wrecking ball off one of these.

We pressed the green button to start the programmed descent. Our pace was pre-determined, our rhythm absolute. Here was our crow's nest, there the horizon. All around us, the curved earth. If only we had been able to look out from this vantage point hundreds of years ago. You could see things more clearly up here. People were put in their proper proportion. Red ants, black ants.

‘Günter, have you moved the camera?' I froze. Blades pointed over near the stairs. ‘The camera. Did you move it?'

‘What makes you think I moved it? I only just got here.'

‘Did you or didn't you?' he asked.

‘…'

‘Why did you move it? Are you stupid? We spent hours finding the right positions.'

‘I don't care how long you spent. I wasn't going to let you get away with it.'

He took a step towards my end of the platform. ‘I'm not in the mood for practical jokes, Günter. Where is the camera?'

‘I don't know.'

‘You do.'

‘They're hidden. All of them. You'll never find them.'

Blades took another step towards me. The platform shuddered.

‘This is the last straw.' His voice rose. ‘This is the last. Fucking. Straw. I brought you up here, I gave you a job. You were nothing when I found you, just some local yokel. People in Salisbury didn't respect you, you were a circus act to them. Don't you understand? You were a joke, a fat man flying like a wind sock. I mean, look at yourself. Really look. I constantly have to send Frank to pick you up because you refuse to own a car. The other cleaners don't respect you either, I have to step in for you every time your back's turned. They say you're too fat, you talk nonsense, your methods are eccentric. I've been defending you, because I thought you might be grateful. I thought you might go far.' He took another step forward, now only inches from my face. ‘And this is how you repay me.' He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me deep in the eye, like a drill sergeant. ‘So what is this? Some kind of fucking hidden camera show? What?' I said nothing. ‘Why have you hidden my fucking cameras
'

He started to shake me hard and the cradle wobbled.

‘Take your hands off me,' I said, my voice cracking. I grabbed his arms and tried to pull them off me but he was shaking me more violently now. The cradle began to bounce gently.

‘Give me the cameras you bloody hun! I've had enough of your fun and games, tell me where they are!'

He was gripping me so hard that I couldn't pry even a single finger off my shoulders – he was just too strong – and now the cradle bounced and swung in towards the windows, smashing against the glass, which fractured at the point of impact.
⁷³
I stamped on his foot and his hands moved from my shoulders to my neck and he started to push me backwards, bending me over the side.

I panicked. I had a safety rope, but instinct took over. Before I knew what I was doing I had taken the GOMORRAH out of my sidekick holster and sprayed it into his face. He let out a shriek like a man possessed and clutched at his eyes, stumbled backwards, tripped on a metal strut and fell back over the side, one hand trying to snatch at a cable. I reached out to grab his arm but pulled back. It was too late.

It wasn't quite a freefall. As one foot caught a window frame it threw him into a spin, so that he seemed to be cartwheeling erratically down the building. He must have lost consciousness at around the thirtieth floor, when his head hit and cracked a window, slowing the cartwheels. From that point on he was a rag doll, lifeless arms like streamers on a kite. He barely bounced when he hit the concrete, though his body broke up a bit, stuck bull's-eye in a cloud of dust.

My ears rang. I felt as if I was underwater. I looked at my watch and saw that it was just gone half past two; I unclipped myself, wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, climbed a couple of feet of cable and hoisted myself back onto the deck; I took the lift to the ground floor; I walked out quickly past the crowd that had gathered around the body; I entered London Bridge underground station; I texted Frank to meet me at Liberty's. Somewhere crowded. We could get anywhere from there. I heard sirens dipping in pitch as I walked down the escalator; I changed at Bank and ended up at Oxford Circus, where I began the short walk to our meeting point; I looked at my watch: 2.58.

I had saved the day. I had definitely saved the day. Blades was evil. Everyone knew it. It had been me or him. It was self-defence. He had attacked me first, he was trying to strangle me or throw me over the side. I had done what anyone would do. Burned his face and sent him on a thousand-foot flight. It was the right thing to do.