The 8th Sky_A Psychological Novel With An Unforgettable Twist

by Leigh Lyn

  “There is one more thing I want to see,” I said and dragged a baffled-looking Don down a half-finished staircase to the basement. Lagging one flight behind, the old clerk shouted at us to be careful. After four more flights, I turned to look at Don. Shaking his head, he bent to grip his knees with both hands.

  “Go,” he wheezed. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  So I did. At the bottom of the staircases I gazed down the corridor, which had haunted me for more than a year and a half after conceiving it one electrifying night. My heart was hammering like a road drill as I walked down the passage. Only at the end of the gangway did reality percolate through and hit me. The truth was unlike anything I had imagined. I slumped down against a dusty door until I was hawked on the dirty floor. Sweat was dripping down as I looked back on an ordinary corridor with ordinary doors, opening onto ordinary rooms. There were no barred cells, no heavy security gates, no secret passages to operation theaters, no morgue, nothing. There was absolutely nothing of what I had expected to find.

  “What is wrong?”

  Don had finally caught up with me. Seeing the expression on my face, he said, “Why, you weren’t...? Oh my goodness! You were!”

  Slowly, he came over and, kneeling till he was level with me, he said, “I should tell you… there was another architect who decided to check out the same thing.”

  Stunned, I gazed at him.

  “Say that again?”

  “When G.Y. commissioned Corinth to build other health centers, another architect wondered about the same. He too checked it out.”

  “What do you mean, other health centers?”

  “I mean other health centers. You know our client has a sizable portion of this country’s market share, don’t you?”

  “What is going on?” The clerk’s flushed face appeared behind Don. When neither of us replied, he said, “Why are you walking so fast? Stay with me please or I won’t be held responsible!”

  “One second.” I scurried up and pulled Don into one of the side rooms. “What exactly did this architect check?”

  Don frowned. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  “Just tell me already,” I snapped.

  “Alright, calm down! So G.Y. has a network of labs and clinic centers planned across the country and rumor has it your infamous design is one of their prototypes.”

  Feeling like a bonehead, I asked, “And Corinth built them for G.Y.?”

  “Well, Corinth is not building them for G.Y., but for the people buying the franchise. The bigger franchises with deeper pockets figured it would make sense to hire the same architect who designed it to overlook the construction.” Don studied my face. “So… I reckon you don’t know about the firing either?”

  “The firing?”

  “Goodness me.” Don sighed. “Okay, the guy was a resident architect overseeing one of those health centers in the Guangzhou area when he made noises about a particular franchise.”

  “And Peter fired him?!”

  “Well, someone did. On top, she sent out a memo forbidding any staff to talk or speculate about any of the office projects and made everyone sign it.”

  “So, it was Stephanie.” I groaned. “And that’s why no one talks about it.”

  “I’m sorry, Lin.” Don looked at me with big brown eyes. “It never occurred to me you didn’t know since the rumors about G.Y. started with you.”

  “Wait.” I raised my hand. “Did this architect find any evidence or not?”

  Don shook his head, looking at me like I was the poorest bitch on earth. “I don’t know.”

  Ignoring the skinny profile of the clerk who was casting irritated looks in our direction, I peered down the corridor toward the doorway. Come to think of it, a simple conversion could change these doors to barred gates, add padding to the rooms, install the security and surveillance equipment and G.Y.’s sordid business would be good to go. The fact that this was not built according to the blueprint from hell from day one didn’t mean they wouldn’t convert to it later.

  I turned to Lao Qiang and asked, “Do you have the latest floor plans? We forgot to bring them.”

  “It’s in the site office. You can check once you get back,” he said, more than a little irritated.

  “Would you mind to go and get it?” I asked, ignoring the quizzical look Don was shooting me. “There are a few details I remember were different.”

  Pursing his thin, cracked lips, the clerk glanced at his watch. “Well, it will take time, and it’s late already.”

  With clenched jaws, I told the poor man, “I’m sorry, but you better hurry, because we need them.”

  Lao Qiang looked at Don, who kept quiet. Grudgingly, the old man caved. “Okay then. Wait here.”

  “Thank you,” I replied and watched him trot back the way we came.

  The second the clerk of works was out of sight, Don asked, “Why do you need the plan?”

  “I don’t. Listen,” I put my hand on his arm. “When that sweet little clerk comes back, tell him I left. Say I had an emergency and needed to catch a train or something.”

  “In this weather?” Don’s eyes grew as big as saucers.

  “Whatever. Just tell him I had to go.” I gave a bewildered Don a hug. “Thanks, pal. I’ll see you back at Corinth.”

  Without waiting for Don’s reply, I turned and scampered away.

  Chapter 22

  It was past midnight. The smell of fungi, urine, and wet newspaper in the shabby room was as revolting as when it first hit me as I was climbing through the broken window. Suppressing the gags, I’d clambered up the toppling stairs and had been squatting on the upper story in one of the decrepit shacks for the last six hours. The floor was tilting so much I was surprised it hadn’t collapsed altogether. Peeking over the ledge of the only battered window, I watched the main entrance of Gao Yao Enterprise. One after another, its personnel left in the pouring rain. Don left fifteen minutes after I had sneaked off. Lao Qiang, the shriveled clerk of works, left at six. Xiao Pang, the pudgy site supervisor, had a visitor at six-thirty, who would have looked like his doppelgänger if not for the stooped posture that made him seem older. I guess it was a relative coming over for dinner because the window of the site-office container steamed up and the smell of Chinese sausage mingled with the rain and stench. They left around seven-forty-five though. At eight, three men wearing security guard uniforms entered the precinct, followed by two women in white nurse uniforms. Parents had been coming to pick up their kids from late afternoon until early evening.

  By eight-thirty, all lights were dimmed except for the childcare center, which suggested kids were staying overnight, and I waited for few more hours. In the meantime, I studied the photos I’d taken in the lab earlier. Zooming in on the labels on the test tubes, I read Serotonin and Norepinephrine.

  I looked up just in time to see a solitary shadow pass behind the glass entrance doors of the main block. That should be the guard “punching in” at security points during his hourly round. I’d drawn up a mental picture of where they were insofar as his path was visible from my window. Based on my observations, these hourly rounds took twenty minutes, after which he would get back to his station and stay there for forty minutes. The other two guards did the same, each taking one of the smaller lab blocks.

  I daresay I knew the layout of the complex like the back of my hand, conversions being wild cards, which I hoped wouldn’t become my undoing. At twenty-past-two, I set the alarm of my cell with a heavy heart. Forty minutes was all I had. I left the room, sneaked down the half-collapsed staircase to the ground, crossed the construction site and climbed through the unglazed window openings of the concrete structure. Once inside, I tiptoed down the staircase and corridors until I was standing in front of the double-leave metal doors separating the new and existing complex. My hand trembled as I turned the handle.

  I suppressed a yelp when I heard it unlock and open with a soft click. A dim emergency light flickered in the empty service lobby in f
ront of me. A second set of identical metal doors loomed ahead of me, which should give access to the basement of the existing facilities. Should Plan A fail, Plan B would require me to go through them. For now, I made my way up the stairs and headed for the Fire Control Room on the ground floor.

  Fire Control Rooms were customarily handed over to the fire brigade after construction and firefighting systems were in operation. Part of this was an extensive CCTV network covering the whole of the facilities so that firemen could monitor everything in case of fire. If I could just connect my tablet and tap into this CCTV system, I would be able to see the basement floor and operation theaters without being discovered. This was Plan A.

  During the design stage, an argument had taken place between the service engineer and the security company, who thought the firemen’s CCTV network breached the security systems. In the end, we had to comply or the fire department would have withheld the fire certificate, without which the building could not be occupied. Our solution was to install a CCTV camera to monitor the fire control room to make sure no one used it except the fire brigade. It had its blind spots, which made it worth a try.

  I hurried through the corridors until I was in the yellow vestibule going to the childcare center. This should lead to the service corridor where the plant rooms were. Out of nowhere, I heard a loud female voice say in Putonghua, “How are we going to do this?”

  I ducked into a gap between chairs lined up against the walls and made myself as small as possible.

  Another female voice replied, “If we move over each row by a half a foot, we can fit in four more rows; that’s one-hundred-and-sixty already.”

  “But they said two-hundred more. We’re still forty short,” the first voice said.

  Raising my head an inch, I risked a peek. The two nurses had come out of the childcare center thirty feet away from me. One was standing with her back toward me while the other was leaning her back against the wall. They each had a cigarette in their hand.

  “Let’s move each row over by a foot,” the older nurse said. “Trust me, I’ve done this before.”

  “If you say so. They’re like baby turtles on TV, aren’t they? Where do they all come from?”

  A glance at my watch told me I had thirty-five minutes left.

  “Last year, they placed ads. They must have been convincing. Instead of selling them to beggars, people bring them here,” the older one replied.

  “My husband wants to get rid of my Meimei too, but I told him I’ll kill myself.”

  The older woman’s shoulders drooped as she took another deep drag. “You’re lucky. So many women have no choice but to bring them here or worse.”

  “What about the other hall? How come we don’t have to add more pens there?” The young woman put out her cigarette.

  “Those are older kids. The lucky ones get adopted or reclaimed by their parents; others go to a facility somewhere.” The woman facing me held out a pack of fags. “One more?”

  “I better not. I have another job after this.”

  After the two women went back inside the creche, I scrambled to the service corridor, which was dark apart from a dim emergency light. I stalled at a random door to shine my torch on the nameplate, which read Electrical Meter Room. I tiptoed over to the next door; the sign read Fire Service Control Room. This was the one. I stared at the numeral security lock in a momentary stupor. Who the fuck would put a lock on an emergency control room?

  I recalled a building management specialist telling me that security systems are often a waste of money because people don’t follow protocols, finding them bothersome. Strictly speaking, the fire service room belonged to the local fire service department, who wouldn’t care to follow these measures other than for those to do with firefighting.

  I tried “0123,” which I saw Xiao Pang use to unlock his computer in the site office. Nothing. Then I tried “0000,” the default password. Thrilled, I heard a click and, instantly, the light on the panel switched from red to green. I turned the doorknob, held my breath and pushed. I was in!

  The room was dark except for a wee green light on the CCTV camera. Closing the door, I crawled till I was behind the desk. There should be a building manual somewhere. Within minutes, using the torch app of my cell, I found it in the dusty bottom drawer. Feverish, I flicked through the index until I spotted the instruction for adding a monitor and followed it step-by-step. After I connected my tablet, I switched on the system and was thrilled to see images of rooms appear on my tablet, one after another. Flicking to the basement section, I entered the floor and room code of the operation theaters.

  Expecting to see the gory reality of torture chambers any second, my heart dropped when the words “Access Denied” flashed across the screen. I entered the room code for the barred cells. Again, the same two words! Damn it, this was no good after all.

  Chapter 23

  The idea I had to venture into the dragon’s pit made me cringe, but there was no half-hearted way of doing this. On the brighter side, G.Y. had something to hide or they wouldn’t have blocked the CCTV of the rooms. If I remembered correctly, there was a master key to all locks that would give me access to their basement facilities. I checked my watch. I had ten minutes before the security guards make their next rounds. I scampered back to the site office, which was shrouded in darkness. Using the screwdriver on my Swiss army knife, I pried open a window and climbed in. I shined my cell torch around until I found the key cabinet I’d seen earlier and looked for a key with a round plate reading “Master.” No such luck, but I knew all site offices kept one somewhere just in case.

  I went through Xiao Pang’s desk. He’d locked all his drawers except for one, which had a variety of plastic-wrapped snacks in it. Starved after skipping lunch and dinner, I gazed at them when, sensing something was wrong, I froze. Was it an irregular noise, an unusual stirring of air, or a telepathic connection of a caustic kind? In the turn of a millisecond, I was basking in a blinding light and shouted at. “Nin-zai-zhou-shenme?”

  My heart stopped. Turning around, I saw it was Xiao Pang. The chubby site supervisor was standing in the open doorway, his bare chest turgid and sweaty, his shirt in his meaty hand. Heavy eyelids reduced his alcohol-drenched eyes to slits through which he looked at me in earnest bewilderment.

  “You’re still here, Miss Architect?” he slurred, his breath a foul, acidic mix of chilies and cheap wine.

  Aghast, I stared at him before blurting out, “Thank god, you are back!”

  “Why? Lao Qiang said you left already.”

  “I was going to, but I got lost!” I shrieked. “The next thing I woke up in the dark with a bump on my head.”

  I covered the top of my skull with both hands. My face felt glowing hot.

  “I’m sorry,” Xiao Pang said, genuinely dismayed. “Are you alright?”

  “There’s no need to apologize. It’s my fault. I must have bumped my head on a low beam and passed out.” I rubbed the crown of my head. “Because the next thing I knew, it was nighttime.”

  “Oh no.” Xiao Pang’s brows steepled in sympathy.

  “I didn’t know what to do, but I remember seeing this key cabinet, so I came here to look for a key for the locked gate. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m so sorry about your trouble.” The site supervisor helped me to a chair. “Wait, I’ll take care of this.”

  I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not, but he searched his desk until he found the same building manual I had used earlier, then flicked through it till his face brightened up and smiled at me as he picked up the phone. He dialed a number and waited. Someone answered at the other end of the line, and Xiao Pang made a loud and extensive account of my sobering situation.

  “Hao!” Covering the receiver with his hand, he asked, “What’s your name again?”

  I reluctantly gave it to him. The site supervisor repeated it to the person on the other end of the line. There was a pause during which he froze and glanced at me
with different eyes. He diverted his gaze before continuing his conversation. “Right in front of me! That’s right! No problem!”

  He hung up and said, “We’ll wait for their instructions.”

  “Instructions?” I stared at him.

  “Just a little company protocol.” He nodded.

  “I understand,” I mumbled as he kept nodding.

  To fill the tense lull, I said, “I should tell you I’m impressed by what everyone is saying about G.Y.’s health plan, but how does it work?”

  “Huh?” Xiao Pang seemed abashed by my question. “I’m not sure. I’m only a site supervisor, you know.”

  Suddenly, the door behind me flew open. A gust of wind swept through the office, and in tumbled Xiao Pang’s doppelgänger. The smell of alcohol on him was overwhelming. Xiao Pang hurried toward the mountain of flesh on the floor, yelling, “Pa, what are you doing? I told you to wait outside.”

  The dad groaned while scrambling up. “Where are the girls, Xiao Pang? Is she the only one left?” The fleshy mountain pointed at me.

  “No, Pa!” Horrified, Xiao Pang looked over his shoulders at me and muttered, “I’m so sorry! My dad is visiting from the provinces, so I took him out to have a little fun and now he has had one too many.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Fleshy Mountain slurred as his son helped him into a chair.

  “We’ve left the club already, Pa.”

  “But I’m still thirsty,” the dad growled.

  Just then, the phone rang. Xiao Pang rushed back to the desk to answer it, but his dad swayed and toppled over. The son ran back, pushed and shuffled until he’d strutted his old man upright in his chair. The second he let go, he began to sway again. With sweat pouring down his face, Xiao Pang stared at the ringing phone set, which was out of his reach. Not wanting to touch the old man, I pulled up my chair and used its high back to shore up one of his dad’s colossal armpits. Nodding gratefully, Xiao Pang answered the phone.