The Smiling Man

by Joseph Knox

  It was 1 a.m.

  The entrance was a grand, architectural statement. A fifteen-foot marble archway set into the red brick of the building. A young woman was waiting outside. I was surprised to see her breath in the air until I noticed the glowing blue tip of an e-cigarette between her fingers. She was smartly dressed, projecting the kind of confidence that made her look cool against the listless, hot and bothered nightlife. As we approached she was staring into the middle distance, exhaling synthetic smoke, and we had to wait a second for acknowledgement.

  ‘Police?’ she said, placing the e-cig in her purse.

  ‘I’m Detective Constable Waits and this is Detective Inspector Sutcliffe.’

  Sutty cut in. ‘We hear you’ve got yourself a visitor, Mrs—’

  ‘Ms,’ she said.

  ‘Well,’ he smiled. ‘I stand politically corrected. Ms …?’

  ‘Aneesa Khan.’

  ‘And what’s your connection to the Palace, Ms Khan?’

  ‘I work for Anthony Blick Solicitors. We’re currently negotiating the sale of the hotel.’

  ‘Hadn’t realized it was on the market,’ said Sutty. ‘I might’ve made you an offer …’

  She gave him a smile that was there and then gone again, like a shrug of the face. ‘Misdirection, Inspector. Renovation sounds better than the truth.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Shut down due to the costly acrimonious split of its owners.’

  ‘So the place is empty?’

  ‘It should be.’ She frowned. ‘I suppose we’d better go inside and find out.’

  The lobby was enormous, and the only light came from the hotel’s front desk on the far side of the room. It was an impressive, overwhelming space, somehow insulated against the heat from outside. Many of the furnishings were originals from when the Palace was built in the 1800s. It had been the headquarters of a prominent life insurance company and had a sense of style and grace rarely seen in modern architecture. The ceiling, which must have been thirty feet above us, was a stained-glass dome. The floors were gleaming, glazed stone, and enormous pillars lined the room, keeping the roof above our heads. As the world became more cramped, it felt remarkable to walk off a congested street at one in the morning, into a wide open space.

  ‘The alarm was triggered about an hour ago.’ Aneesa spoke quietly but her voice reverberated about us. ‘When no one switched it off, they called me.’

  ‘Not unusual for something to fall over in a building this big …’

  ‘We have a night watchman, though. Ali. I haven’t been able to get hold of him.’ All three of us looked at the unmanned front desk. The lamp that had been positioned to shine out at the doorway, right into our eyes. Its glare shrouded the far side of the room in darkness.

  ‘Is that his workstation?’ I asked. Aneesa nodded, not taking her eyes off the desk. ‘I’ll check it out. You can wait here if you like.’ I turned and walked towards the light. After a moment I heard her following me, heels echoing on the stone floor. There was a sigh, then the cheap squeak of Sutty’s plastic shoes.

  I reached Ali’s workstation and moved the light out of our eyes. It was hot to the touch and must have been on all night. There was no one behind the desk, and the only objects on its surface were a phone, a key card and a coffee. Sutty squeaked towards me, leaned over and touched the mug.

  ‘Cold as ice,’ he said.

  I moved round the desk, held up the mobile phone. ‘Could this be his?’ Aneesa nodded. I pressed a button and the screen lit up. Five missed calls.

  ‘They’re all me …’ she said.

  ‘Could he be doing his rounds?’

  ‘Without his phone?’

  Sutty yawned into his armpit. ‘He’s probably sleeping it off in one of the rooms.’

  ‘Sleeping what off?’ said Aneesa.

  ‘It,’ Sutty replied.

  ‘I don’t think he’s the type.’

  ‘Must just be my faith in humanity,’ he said. ‘On the blink again …’

  Aneesa looked between us. ‘I was called out because the alarm was triggered and no one switched it off. Ali’s not at his post, so where is he?’

  ‘OK …’ Sutty went to the lifts and pressed the call button. ‘Let’s have a look around.’

  ‘They haven’t been signed off yet,’ said Aneesa. He shot her a look. ‘They don’t work, Inspector.’

  ‘Something in common with your security guard, then.’ He looked at the steps which led up to the palatial, famously grand staircase and shook his head. ‘I get nosebleeds above sea level anyway. Up you go, Aids. We’ll search the ground floor.’

  I gave Aneesa a glance and went towards the staircase.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. Sutty snorted but didn’t comment.

  Once we were out of earshot she turned to me. ‘Is he really your boss?’

  ‘Yeah, he can be quite nice when you get to know him.’

  ‘Really?’

  I shook my head. ‘I was actually hoping he’d try the stairs. He might’ve been dead by the third floor.’

  She smiled, but nervously. ‘I have a sudden urge to see your ID.’ We stopped. The staircase was dimly lit. ‘You don’t strike me as much of a policeman …’

  ‘Very perceptive.’ She raised an eyebrow and I searched my pockets. ‘I’m not much of one.’ I showed her my card and we began climbing the stairs again. They went endlessly up, with two large flights between each floor. ‘Tell me about your security guard.’

  ‘We have two, on alternating shifts. Ali’s our night man, a really good guy.’

  ‘How long’s he been with you?’

  ‘About as long as I’ve been involved with the Palace, which is as long as it’s been closed. Six months or so …’

  ‘One guard at a time isn’t much for all of this. There must be, what, two hundred rooms …?’

  ‘Closer to three hundred.’

  ‘And all of them locked?’ I asked, as we reached the first-floor landing.

  ‘That’s the idea …’

  The corridors on each floor were linked, forming a circuit that would bring us back to the main stairwell. We went left, into a low, ambient buzz. The anti-noise of a cavernous, empty building. Lights, pipes and appliances in chorus. The air was thick and stale up here, having gone too long without human interruption, and I could hear the static carpet, lisping beneath our heels. I tried the handles on two or three rooms as we passed them. They were all locked, and I took it as read that the rest would be too.

  ‘Have you ever been here before?’ said Aneesa. ‘When it was open, I mean …’ There was a forced note of cheer in her voice and I thought she was probably nervous. It felt unusual to be walking through an empty hotel with a stranger in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘Once or twice,’ I said. ‘My main memory was getting lost in these corridors.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a maze.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what happened to Ali.’ I’d meant it to sound reassuring but it just brought her attention back to him.

  ‘You don’t think so, do you? You or your partner?’

  ‘In our experience, security guards aren’t usually that proactive. They tend to clock in and put their feet up for a few hours. The first and last patrol of the shift’s usually when they hand over to the next guy.’

  ‘Ali’s not like that. We even pay him extra to go room by room.’ We’d completed our circuit of the corridor and began climbing the stairs towards the second floor.

  ‘Why extra?’

  ‘To run the taps, flush the toilets – things can go stale in an empty hotel without some movement.’ She saw a look pass across my face. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, the doors are all locked.’ She frowned and I went on. ‘If he was doing his rounds, he’d have taken his key card with him.’ As she turned this thought over, the lights flickered and went out. There were no windows in the stairwell and we were suddenly in total darkness.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she sa
id, reaching out for me. I found the torch in my pocket, clicked it on and held it in the space between us.

  ‘Probably the trip switch. Do you know where the fuse box is?’

  ‘Main one’s on the ground floor, I think.’

  ‘OK. Why don’t you head back downstairs and call my partner?’ I dug out my phone and gave her his number. ‘Tell him where I am. If you can get the lights back on, even better.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, her voice faltering. I couldn’t tell if she was scared or disappointed. She started down the stairs anyway, holding her own phone up like a lantern. I reached the second floor by torchlight, cautiously moving its beam about the landing before I moved on. The corridor was so long that the thin spot of light didn’t even reach the other end. I started forwards, the closed doors either side of me igniting a peculiar kind of claustrophobia. I tried the handles of the first few. All of them were locked.

  About halfway along the corridor I stopped. Absorbed a wave of paranoia. I clicked the torch off and stood still in the darkness, trying not to breathe. Feeling the blood beat through my ears. Then I turned the torch in the direction I’d come from and switched it back on.

  Nothing.

  I carried on, made a full circuit of the corridor and found myself back where I’d started. I climbed the stairs to the third floor and stopped on the landing. I could smell something now. Just the memory of a scent. I couldn’t tell if it was perfume or cologne but the edge of alcohol was unmistakable, standing out against the bland, heavy air. When I reached the mouth of the corridor and strafed the torch beam from side to side, I saw something and took a step back.

  There was a man, a few feet away, lying face down on the carpet. I could see the blood on the back of his head, a fire extinguisher on the floor beside him.

  ‘Hello,’ I called out. He didn’t move. I shone the light above him, straight down the centre of the corridor and began walking. Reaching the man, I realized I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled, crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He groaned.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ I said. My eyes fixed on the far wall. The thin spot of light from the torch. We were almost exactly halfway along the corridor and I felt exposed in the darkness.

  ‘What happened …?’ he said, reaching for my arm.

  I helped him sit up.

  ‘Ali?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think someone hit you. It’s OK, I’m a police officer. Did you see anything?’

  ‘I … I don’t know.’ As he spoke, a shape passed through the torchlight at the far end of the corridor, and he gripped my arm.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘My partner should be here any minute. I have to follow them, OK?’ He nodded, forgetting his head, wincing in pain. I stood and walked in the direction of the movement, covering as much of the corridor as I could with the light. I dialled Sutty and spoke quietly when he answered. ‘I’ve found the security guard. Third floor. He’s got a head injury and needs medical assistance. I’m pursuing an intruder to the end of the corridor. Request back-up.’ I hung up as I reached the corner. Took a breath and then stepped around it.

  Nothing.

  As I came back to the staircase I heard a sound, like moths tapping at a window, and I realized the lights were dink-dink-ing back to life. I looked all around me, letting my eyes adjust, and saw that I was holding my torch with both hands. I clicked it off, pocketed it and started up the stairs to the fourth floor. Something felt different. It was even hotter up here and there was a subtle change in air pressure.

  I thought I could hear a low, hissing sound.

  I felt a draught against my skin and followed it down the left-hand corridor, to a fire exit, slightly ajar. I opened it all the way with my foot and looked down the staircase. Street sounds and a blast of cool air. If someone had just gone through it, they were outside by now. I let out a breath, more relieved than anything, and began retracing my steps. As I did, I saw there was a light coming from one of the rooms I’d passed.

  The door was wide open.

  Room 413.

  It was raised on a slightly higher level than the rooms either side of it, with its own short staircase leading up. I climbed the stairs feeling suddenly dizzy, suddenly lost in the labyrinthine corridors.

  ‘Hello …’ I called out.

  No answer.

  I walked through the doorway then stepped back against the wall. Room 413 was a large suite, at least double the size of any I’d ever stayed in. The light came from a desk lamp and gave the room a moody, intimate tone. The window was closed but I could hear faint sounds of traffic down on Oxford Road, still going at gone one in the morning. The glare of the city outside cast moving, kaleidoscopic shadows across the walls.

  At the far side of the room was the solid, immovable silhouette of a man.

  He was sitting in a chair, facing the window. He didn’t respond as I drew closer and I felt a cold sweat, itching out from my scalp. I wiped my face with my forearm, eyes not leaving the shape. As I came alongside him I saw that he was dead. His own sweat was glazed across his face, and I thought I could feel the heat pouring out of him. He looked well groomed for a midnight intruder, cleanly shaven with a sharp haircut. I stopped when I saw that his eyes were wide open. They were cobalt-blue and staring into the next life like he was done with this one. It was his teeth that sent me out of the room, though. The muscles in his mouth had contracted viciously, and locked into a wide, wincing grin.

  8

  Aneesa waited with Ali for the paramedics to arrive. I’d told Sutty there was something he needed to see on the fourth floor and taken him up to 413. The corridors were unventilated and warmer at the top of the building. By the time we reached the room his pale skin was bubbling with sweat. He looked like he was being boiled alive.

  ‘Better be good,’ he said, wheezing up the narrow staircase. He playfully rapped his knuckles on the open door and shouted: ‘Housekeeping.’ He stopped when he saw the body, then looked back at me. Jabbed a wet finger in my chest. ‘You fucking touch anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘The light?’

  ‘On already.’

  He stared at me for a second then turned to the man. With the window closed the room was oppressively warm. When Sutty shrugged off his jacket I followed suit. His shirt was saturated with sweat.

  He paused, taking in his surroundings before going any further. There was the usual king-sized bed, alongside some teak walls and furnishings. It felt more like a smart, city-centre apartment than a hotel room. Sutty nodded at a plastic key card lying on the floor.

  The man was sitting in a leather chair which had been moved to face the window. There was still some light, bleeding through the curtains, casting shapes on the walls.

  ‘You need to see his face,’ I said.

  ‘Pretty boy, eh?’ Sweat poured out from Sutty’s skin and I mopped my own brow in response. ‘Well, lead the way.’

  The desk lamp was too dim for the full effect, so I clicked on my torch, went towards the man and lit him up. The light caught his teeth, that rictus grin, and Sutty winced, waved at me to lower it.

  He licked his lips thoughtfully. ‘Makes you wonder what’s so funny …’

  I didn’t say anything.

  When I lowered the torch beam on to the man’s lap I saw an odd pattern on one trouser leg. A circular shape in orange stitching. I was about to take another step when Sutty clicked his fingers at me. Shook his head.

  The man was middle-aged. Wearing a dark suit. My first impression, from his rich brown skin, was that he was of Middle Eastern origin. The effect was somewhat undone by his piercing blue eyes. They, in conjunction with the vicious smile on his face, made him look like he knew something that we didn’t. Some awful knowledge right at the edge of sanity.

  ‘Homeless?’ said Sutty.

  I shook my head. ‘Clean clothes, no smell. He looks more like a don or a teacher than a user …’

  Sutty grinned. ‘Well, it’s
all academic until forensics arrive. I wanna talk to that security guard, though, before the paramedics get rid of him. Take the mountain to Mohammed.’

  ‘I think his name was Ali.’

  ‘Yeah-yeah,’ he said, crossing the room.

  I followed him to the door, stopped, and looked back at the man. Outside, I could hear the traffic on Oxford Road. Piercing through it all were the sounds of sirens, two or three sets, moving in different directions through the city.

  9

  Ali had been lifted on to a gurney and moved to the lobby. Two paramedics stood beside him, discussing his vitals. Aneesa watched, anxiously, at a distance. Several uniformed officers had arrived and one of them was talking to her, taking a statement.

  Sutty approached the lead paramedic. ‘We need a word before you cart him off.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’d have a one-way conversation. We’ve given him something for the pain.’

  ‘Well, give him something else.’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way, Inspector. We’re taking him to St Mary’s, so you can catch him there tomorrow morning.’ Sutty started to speak but swallowed the insult and nodded. Then he shouted across the room at the uniformed officer talking to Aneesa.

  ‘Oi, hot fuzz.’ The officer turned. ‘You go with ’em. He’s a witness or a criminal, a flight risk either way.’

  ‘Sir. It’s just that my orders were—’

  ‘Your orders have changed, sweetheart.’ The officer didn’t move. ‘You’d better be pissing your pants now so you don’t need to go on the ward, son.’ The officer went bright red, turned and followed the paramedics outside.

  I looked at Sutty. ‘You’re a class act …’

  ‘And you’re lucky there’s someone more trustworthy than you around. Right,’ he said, clapping his hands. ‘Can everyone dressed like a male stripper gather round.’ Aneesa crumpled into a chair and Sutty rolled his eyes. ‘Make yourself useful and get rid of her.’ He briefed the officers to secure the building and begin a search of the premises. ‘No one goes up to the third or fourth floors without my say-so. Repeat that back to me.’ They did and Sutty grunted. ‘Good, now get on with it.’ They filed out of the lobby in different directions, leaving Aneesa and me alone.