PUBLIC SQUARE HQ, CUPERTINO, CALIFORNIA
It wasn’t Elizabeth waiting for Jags outside the entrance to the research centre, but a lean man in expensive-looking jeans and a sky-blue shirt. Jags recognised him.
‘Eldridge?’
‘You’ve got a good eye, Mr Jags. Most folk won’t place me unless I’ve got that chauffeur’s get-up on.’
‘You’re not a chauffeur then?’
‘Sometimes I am. Other times, I do other things.’ He held the door open for Jags. ‘Are you okay if we don’t take the whole tour this time and just head straight down to Department Eight?’
‘Is that where you’re from?’
Eldridge gave a thin smile.
‘Not exactly, no. But that’s where Mrs Curepipe is.’
Jags felt his pulse quicken.
‘Okay. How is she?’
‘She’s good.’
Jags followed Eldridge down the long corridor in the direction of the lift. The place seemed strangely quiet compared to his last visit.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘Early lunch I guess. Plus a few people off on vacation.’
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘And what about Mr Curepipe, where’s he?’
Eldridge didn’t hesitate.
‘Mr Curepipe’s off too. He’s taking some compassionate leave.’
‘Compassionate leave?’
‘Yes. He lost someone close to him I believe.’
Eldridge pressed the button for the lift and the two men waited in silence. Jags was struggling to make sense of what all of this meant. Fred’s absence. Elizabeth choosing to meet here, inside Fred’s research centre – his man cave as she liked to call it … The large steel-sided elevator juddered its way down to the basement level and opened out onto a view of the classroom Jags had seen on his previous visit. On the other side of the long glass window was a row of desks – just four of them this time – and behind each was a man, dressed in a white open-necked shirt and black trousers. Another batch of Fred’s fuckin’ repairmen. But Jags paid them little mind, because sitting at the other end of the room underneath the blank whiteboard, her fingers dancing across the screen of her mobile phone, was Elizabeth. She was wearing her hair in a ponytail, with a black polo neck, faded bootleg jeans and those shoes with the red soles that she liked so much. Her lipstick was the same bright red. She looked up and smiled at Jags – that smile – and he smiled back. Eldridge pushed the door open for him.
‘After you.’
Jags walked in but waited on the threshold, unsure what to make of all this.
‘Hello.’
‘Here he is …’ She stood, pocketed her phone and strode towards him. ‘… my main man.’ Elizabeth kissed him on his stubbled cheek and pressed her hand against his chest. Jags smiled and tried not to wince although her hand was pushing hard against the bruise that the car seatbelt had left.
‘You look well Lizzie, how’re you doing?’
She turned away and walked back to her seat.
‘I’m very well.’
‘I was worried about you.’
‘That’s sweet. But you didn’t need to be worried about me.’
Jags nodded.
‘No …’ He paused. ‘… I’m beginning to see.’
‘Good for you.’
87 Closed Circuits
THE HEADLAND HOTEL, HONG KONG
By the time the car dropped Carver and Patrick outside the entrance to the Headland Hotel, they had a plan. Patrick would take a fresh look at the CCTV footage from the night Viv disappeared while Carver worked out whether Staples was still checked in at the hotel and if so, try to find him. McCluskey had given them clear instructions on this part of the plan:
‘I’ve seen what these fellows are capable of. If you’re going to confront him, it needs to be both of yous together and in a very public place.’
Carver would try the bars and restaurants and if he found him, fetch Patrick. The plan was to tell him what they knew, see how he reacted and film the whole thing. McCluskey’s digging had uncovered a fair amount, but as yet she’d been unable to find a photograph of the new-look Dan Staples.
‘He’s camera-shy this lad. Try and get a decent shot of him and we’ll see what we can do with that.’
Patrick asked Mr Kip, the top-hatted doorman, to help arrange for him to take another look at the CCTV. Before long he was sitting in a cramped back office staring at a bank of screens. There was only room for two chairs and Patrick sat next to the head of hotel security, a grey-haired man with eyes dulled from too much staring and skin that reminded Patrick of the skin on a cold cup of hot chocolate.
‘Can we start with the tape I looked at last time? Viv leaving Dan Staples’ room and walking back to hers?’
The security man nodded and shuffled through his stack of minidiscs.
Carver talked the duty manager at reception into confirming that Dan Staples was still checked in at the hotel, although he hadn’t seen him that day. William pushed his luck a little further and asked whether Mr Staples was paying for his stay with a credit card? Were they holding the card, or maybe a photocopy of his passport? Unsurprisingly the duty manager told him, extremely politely, to go whistle, but not before William saw his eyes flick in the direction of a box file at the other end of the desk. They had both credit card and passport details and while there was no chance of the manager letting Carver see these, he would undoubtedly hand them over to the police when the time came. That time would come once he and Patrick had gathered more evidence or after they confronted Staples himself.
William scoured the bars and restaurants but there was no sign. He saw Brandon and a gaggle of other journalists drinking in the Purple Bar but left without being seen. He even checked the swimming pool and the hotel gym but Staples was nowhere to be seen. Carver tried one of the house phones and rang the room number Patrick had given him, but it rang out. Staples was either hiding in his room, which seemed unlikely, or he was out and about running one of his errands.
When Carver pushed open the door to the poky security office, ready to update Patrick, he saw his colleague standing with his face almost pressed against one of the small screens, examining it in the greatest detail.
‘I’m right, William. At least I think I’m right. Look …’
He stood to one side and Carver saw a doll-sized version of Viv leaving a room and walking down a corridor. Then she was in a lift for a few seconds before the picture changed again and Carver watched as she walked down a different corridor, took a key card from inside the front pocket of her rucksack, opened the door and walked in. Carver moved closer and studied the date and time code in the top right corner of the screen.
‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing. It looks kosher.’
Patrick nodded.
‘It’s Viv all right and the time code is right but something else is wrong. That’s Viv’s regular work outfit, it’s not what she was wearing the night she went missing. She was going to wear her green dress – she told me. That’s what she wore whenever she saw Dan …’ He hesitated. ‘… and it’s what she was wearing when she died.’
Carver pointed at the screen.
‘So what’s this?’
‘It’s what Eric said. It’s a fake, film duped from other, older footage, cut together and swapped in … somehow. By someone.’
88 Sacrifice
HIJO DE DIOS, CHILE
Soledad had been hiding out at the old mine for two nights now. The only person in the world who knew she was there was her brother, Augusto. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d decided to confide in him – their relationship was difficult at the best of times – but it had turned out to be an inspired choice. Augusto had kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. He had cycled up to see her twice already, the first time to update her on the movements of the two strangers from Santiago, recently arrived in Brochu; the second time to bring her some food after she’d told Augusto that she’d been forced to steal some of El Tio
’s supplies and eat those, the previous night.
‘You cannot do that sister. It will bring the worst sort of bad luck.’
‘Unlike all the good luck I’m enjoying at the moment?’
The strangers had arrived in town the morning after the car crash, but the questions they started asking locals had nothing to do with the accident or the unfortunate American who had been half-decapitated as a result. The questions concerned Soledad. Where did she live? Where was she now? Which phone number was she using? She left Brochu immediately, taking her father’s old sleeping bag, half a loaf of bread and a change of clothes.
The pair sat outside the entrance to Hijo de Dios and ate the cooked sausage and drank the beer he had brought. Soledad smiled at her brother.
‘You know what would go well with these?’ Augusto shook his head. ‘Some of El Tio’s refried beans.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’ Soledad jumped to her feet and tiptoed theatrically up to the horrible horned effigy before snatching a tin of rusty beans from out of his lap. The look of shock on her brother’s face made her laugh.
‘Don’t worry Augusto – the worst thing that can happen from eating the devil’s beans is indigestion.’
He shook his head and looked around. Just behind the spot where his sister sat, the white rock was stained a reddish brown. There were butchering places like these everywhere once you began to look.
‘How long are you going to have to stay up here Soledad?’
‘Until those two strangers leave I think.’ She paused. ‘Or until I can get hold of the American – Jags – and get him to tell me what’s going on.’
She had left several messages for Jags using her old Nokia. The shiny new smartphone he had given her, she’d decided to leave back at the house, switched off and with the SIM card removed.
‘You think that you can trust him?’
‘Yes. I do.’
89 Hubris
PUBLIC SQUARE HQ, CUPERTINO, CALIFORNIA
‘So where’s Fred?’
‘I thought Eldridge told you? He’s on compassionate leave … he’s doing some bits and pieces back at Fallingwater, but mainly he’s resting. Poor Fred.’
‘What happened?’
‘A woman who used to work here a few years back and who had this interesting-sounding start-up … she died.’ Elizabeth pulled her red mouth down into a Pierrot-like parody of regret. ‘She was very young, it’s terribly sad. Especially for Fred, he’d grown pretty close to her I think. He had all kind of plans.’
‘I don’t know who … her is.’
Elizabeth shook her head.
‘No, I know you don’t. The point is Fred is going to take some well-deserved R & R, so I thought we might as well meet over here at his place. Hey Eldridge …’ She glanced over at the door where Eldridge-who-was-a-lot-of-things was standing. ‘… fetch Jags a chair will you?’
A white folding chair was brought and Jags sat on it. Lizzie in front of him, the four white shirt-wearing repairmen along with Eldridge at his back. Five feet between them and him. Jags looked around the room and nodded, taking everything in.
‘So this is a funny ol’ set-up you’ve got here Lizzie. It looks like you’re getting ready to teach a class.’
She grinned.
‘A class? Yes, perhaps I am.’
‘Maybe I shoulda brought you an apple or something.’
‘Just having you here, that’s enough for me Jags.’
‘So what’s this all about?’
‘Well it was going to be a pretty straightforward debrief – like you used to do with Fred. But I think I like your idea better. How about you start the class off with a report? From your trip down to Chile? One of those what I did at the weekend kind of things?’
‘I get the feeling you know quite a lot already, Lizzie.’
‘Maybe. But it’s important to know everything. Isn’t that what Fred’s always telling us?’
Jags laughed.
‘He didn’t learn his own lesson though, did he Lizzie?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Never underestimate a man’s ability to underestimate a woman.’ She turned to Jags. ‘It doesn’t matter how much she achieves. How high she climbs … still the men around her will assume that she’s incapable of finding the next rung on the ladder. Inventing that next rung if it isn’t there.’ Elizabeth walked the circumference of the room, the clicking sound of her shoes ricocheting off the hard walls. ‘Fred was so certain that this place, his man cave was the last word in innovation. He was so convinced that God Mode was as good as it could possibly get.’
‘Hubris.’
Elizabeth shook her head.
‘That’s you getting all overly poetic again Jags. Truth is – Fred was being a dick.’
She completed her circuit of the room and sat back down.
‘So what happens now Lizzie?’
‘You go ahead and give us your class report. What happened down in Chile?’
‘A lot happened. What specifically do you want to know?’
‘Okay. Specifically – at what point did you decide to kill Nathan?’
Jags grinned.
‘Well, to be completely honest with you Lizzie … pretty soon after I met him. I didn’t like him much.’
‘Didn’t you? That’s a shame. I liked him.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yup. But more importantly Jags, he was one of us.’
90 The Invisible Man
THE HEADLAND HOTEL, HONG KONG
Carver and Patrick agreed to take turns looking through the other tapes in an attempt to find the original footage of Viv – the segment that had been copied across and recoded to show her leaving Staples’ room on the night she went missing. This would constitute one piece of proof. At the same time they’d try to find the clearest possible image of Dan himself. His passport photo would be more useful, but in the meantime it’d be good to give McCluskey something to work with. Patrick wanted to call Rebecca and let her know what was going on, so Carver took the first shift. He sat down next to the hollow-cheeked security man and pointed at the racks of minidiscs.
‘I guess we better start the first day Viv arrived …’
The old Hongkonger shook his head.
‘This was more than three weeks ago.’
‘Yep.’
‘Every day?’
‘All day every day.’
Carver pushed his shoes off and stretched out as far as the wall would allow. The security guard sighed, slid the first minidisc into his machine and pressed play.
Rebecca had been expecting his call.
‘I heard the terrible news about Viv, Patrick. I’m so, so sorry. What do you think happened? There’s all sorts of odd stuff on the internet.’
Patrick hesitated.
‘I know. We’re not really sure. Not yet.’
‘Well, if there’s anything you can do out there to help – then you should do it.’
He wondered whether he should tell her that he’d had to identify Viv’s body – he had wanted to tell her this, but now it seemed like the wrong thing to do. He wouldn’t tell Rebecca that, nor anything else. ‘I read that her mum and dad are on their way?’
‘Yeah, they should arrive tomorrow.’
‘Well then you should stay and see them. Stay as long as it’s helpful. I’m absolutely fine, the ginger tea is working a treat and I’m practising walking with a waddle. That’s my main news.’
‘I can’t wait to see that waddle.’
‘I’ll have it down by the time you see me.’
Patrick checked the hotel bars once more to make sure that Staples wasn’t back, then went and ordered some takeaway food from the restaurant. He arrived back at the security office with a leaning tower of orange polystyrene cartons. Carver looked round, sniffing at the air.
‘Smells good, what is it?’
‘It’s the cheapest food I could find from the hot buffet.’
‘Nice work.’
&
nbsp; He flipped a carton of meatballs open and ate one with his fingers.
‘How are you getting on?’
‘Not great. Me and Anthony here …’ He waved a sauce-covered finger at the old security guard sitting next to him. ‘… we’ve only managed about two and a half days’-worth of tape.’
‘That doesn’t sound like much.’
‘No. I called reception; we can have a room here tonight if we need it. I reckon we’re going to.’ He ate another meatball. ‘The other news, the really bad news is that it looks like Dan Staples is some sort of invisible man. I wanted to try and give McCluskey a look at him, so we skipped ahead and we watched the last few days’-worth of footage from the cameras on his corridor – there’s nothing. He’s completely disappeared.’
91 Queasy
PUBLIC SQUARE HQ, CUPERTINO, CALIFORNIA
‘I’m sorry about Nathan, Lizzie.’
‘Never mind. These things happen. I liked him, but he wasn’t my favourite …’ She smiled at Jags. ‘… you’re still my favourite.’
He glanced around the room.
‘I can see.’
‘Protect the queen. That’s what you and Fred always used to say, wasn’t it? Back in the beginning.’
‘It was.’
‘And I always felt very protected by you, Jags. Right up until recently.’
‘What happened recently?’
She got to her feet again. Her phone back in her hand.
‘Fred noticed it first – small changes. I read what he wrote in your file.’
Jags laughed.
‘I didn’t know there was a file.’
‘There’s always a file …’ She glanced at her phone. ‘… morally queasy. That’s what he wrote. He put a couple of question marks next to it and when I first read it, I thought he was wrong. But you know Fred, he’s hardly ever wrong. He saw something in your data – in the sum. And I saw it in person, in London.’
‘In London? In London you said—’ He stopped.
A Cursed Place Page 33
