14

by Peter Clines

  “What is this place?” asked Nate.

  Oskar didn’t turn back. “This is the Kavach Building. It is my home. It is your home. It is a good home. What more do you need to know?”

  Oskar trudged up to the landing and around the corner. Nate heard him thump down the hall to his apartment. A moment later a door closed hard enough to be called a slam.

  Twenty Six

  “Nate,” called Tim. “Do you know my new best friend, Roger?”

  Tim and the man from the laundry room were sprawled on the deck chairs in front of Friday’s sunset. Between them was a twelve pack of beer and half a bag of ice. Trails of water snaked out of the case to form small puddles and drip between the planks of the deck.

  “I’ve been replaced?”

  “Well, Roger brought a half case with ice,” said Tim. “What do you have?”

  “I could go get chips or something.”

  “Save it for next time, bro,” chuckled Roger. He pulled a bottle from the ice-filled box. “Want one?”

  “It’s why I’m here.”

  He popped the cap off and held it out to Nate. “Enjoy.”

  Nate took a long pull off the bottle while he found a seat. He grabbed a chair from the table under the cabana.

  “Long week?” Tim asked.

  “Too long.”

  Tim held out his bottle and they clinked the necks. “Tell Doctor Farr all about it.”

  “I don’t know if I can afford your rates.”

  “That’s okay. I work with a lot of charity cases like you.”

  Roger laughed and coughed up some beer.

  “You want to hear the bad news or the weird news?”

  “No good news?” asked Tim.

  Nate shrugged. “I suppose some of the weird news could be good, in that confirmation kind of way.”

  “Let’s go with weird, then.”

  Nate went back to the start of the week and explained what their measurements had revealed. Then he told them about the chance meeting with the woman they’d all known as Toni, and his encounter with Oskar. Neither of them interrupted him. By the time he was done, he’d started his second beer and the sun had touched the horizon.

  “Lemme get this straight,” said Roger. “Hottie Asian chick was just an actress?”

  “Looks like,” said Nate.

  “And we’re on some British reality show?”

  Tim shook his head. “I think Nate was dead-on. There’s no television show going on here.”

  “But she’s an actress?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. He looked at Tim. “What do you think?”

  Tim drummed his fingers on the arm of the deck chair. He took a drink of beer. “I’ve got to be honest, Nate. When you told me your ideas about hidden secrets, I thought you were overreacting a bit.” He had another sip of beer. “If you hire an uninformed third party to conduct your business, though, you’re trying to protect yourself.”

  Roger set his empty bottle on the deck. “From what?”

  “On a guess, either they don’t want to be in the public eye or they don’t want it known they own this building. Possibly a little of both.”

  Nate took another hit off his beer, but before he could say anything a throat cleared behind them. He glanced over his shoulder. Tim and Roger looked, too.

  Andrew stood by the fire door. He had on another sweater vest, this time over a pink polo shirt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your party. I just didn’t want you to think I was eavesdropping.”

  “No problem,” said Nate. He glanced at his drinking buddies. “Do you guys know Andrew?”

  Andrew walked over and thrust his hand at Tim. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I live across the hall from you. I’m Andrew.”

  “So I heard.” He shifted his bottle to the other hand and wrapped his fingers around the offered palm. “Tim Farr. Would you like to join us for a beer?”

  Andrew’s head shake could’ve been a twitch. “Intoxication goes against the Lord’s wishes.”

  “Not getting intoxicated, bro,” said Roger. “Just having a beer or three at the end of the week.”

  “You’re not in my congregation, so please don’t call me brother,” said Andrew.

  Roger’s eyes widened and rolled. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know it seems like careless fun now,” Andrew said, “but when your soul is tallied, these are the little things which add up. The Lord asks for focus and devotion. He has a plan and it doesn’t involve alcohol.”

  Roger bit back most of his chuckle.

  “You laugh now,” said Andrew, “but in the end we shall see who—”

  “Stop,” said Tim. There was an edge to his voice. Nate remembered his first impression, of drill sergeants and gym teachers.

  The word even made Andrew pause for a moment. He looked confused. “When the key to salvation is found and you—”

  “I said stop.” Tim took his sunglasses off and stared at Andrew. Nate could see the curve of his eyes and found himself grateful he wasn’t the focus of that stare.

  Andrew flinched. He cleared his throat and tried again. “When salvation—”

  “I respect your beliefs, Andrew, and I’m glad they make you happy. But I’m not up here to be lectured at or spoken down to. Clear?”

  Andrew’s lips twisted and his head wobbled like it had come loose from his neck. They saw his jaw moving, getting ready to talk again. His nose flared as he took in a breath. “My apologies,” he said. “I was only trying to help prepare your souls for—”

  Tim raised a warning finger.

  Andrew’s mouth slapped shut. He gave them a schoolteacher’s glare and marched back to the fire door. He yanked it open and stomped down the stairs.

  “Bro,” said Roger, “that was unbelievably awesome.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Tim. “I just hate bullies.” He pushed his sunglasses back on and took a hit off his beer.

  The door clicked open again and Veek stepped out onto the roof. “Hey,” she said. “Which one of you pissed off Andrew?”

  Nate and Roger pointed at Tim. “I apologize if he’s a friend of yours,” said the older man.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so worked up,” she said. “He didn’t even say hello on the stairs.”

  “Tim used a Jedi mind trick on him,” said Roger. “It was awesome.”

  “Are you looking for a new apprentice?” she asked. “There’s a bunch of people at work who need a good Jedi mind trick. Or a lightsaber up their ass.”

  “Sounds like the lady needs some relief,” said Tim. He rooted around in the ice and pulled a beer free. Roger popped the cap and handed it off to her. She raised her bottle and they all returned the toast. She had a long drink.

  Nate shifted aside to let her share his chair. “Big project didn’t go over so well?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, “that was an outside project. This is just the mindless day job. Emphasis on mindless.” She had another drink and turned to Nate. “I got your email. About your day off.”

  “No need to be cryptic,” said Nate. He waved his bottle at the others. “We’re all on the same page here.”

  She looked at Tim and Roger. “You guys are in?”

  They both nodded. Tim pulled one knee up to his chest. “Just before Andrew joined us,” he said, “I was telling Nate I think there might be a real mystery here.”

  “You could so be our Fred,” said Veek.

  “Want to hear really weird?” said Roger. “Have you guys noticed there’re no power lines running to this place?”

  Nate and Veek grinned. The four of them drank their beers, watched the last shreds of sunset, and discussed the accumulated oddness of their home.

  “So,” said Veek as the streetlights flickered on below them, “you figure out what we’re doing this weekend?”

  Nate shrugged. “I’m not sure. After running into Toni—or Kathy�
��it just seems like there’s a ton of little things that are all worth following.”

  “The bigger problem,” said Tim, “is that it sounds like Oskar knows you’re up to something. Whatever you decide to do, you need to work around him.”

  “True that,” said Roger. “Whatever’s going on, s’not worth losing your place over.”

  Nate nodded. “I think a lot of people have said that. It’s probably why no one’s ever made all this weirdness public.”

  Veek set her bottle down and turned to Nate again. “So you’re saying we should keep our snooping low-key for another week or so?”

  “Maybe.” He finished off the last of his beer and stuck his finger in the empty bottle. It swung back and forth on his knuckle. “Maybe something we won’t draw too much attention with.”

  “Like what?” said Roger.

  Nate let the beer bottle tap against his knees. “I’m thinking maybe we should pool our resources.”

  Twenty Seven

  They gathered in the lounge Saturday evening. Veek kicked the fire door shut, blocking them off from the hall. Roger set his BluRay player on a chair while he hooked it up to the flatscreen. The others dragged two of the couches over in front of the television.

  Clive glanced at the movie next to the player. “The Incredible Hulk?”

  “The Hulk rocks,” said Roger as he pushed a last cable into place.

  Nate flipped it over and read the fine print on the back. “Is this the good one or the bad one?”

  “They were both bad,” said Veek.

  “Oh, don’t mess with his superheroes,” said Debbie.

  “It’s the good one,” Clive announced. He glared at Veek in mock anger.

  Nate handed the movie to Roger, who dropped the disc into the loading tray.

  “We’re not really watching it, anyway,” said Veek. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Could watch it when we’re done,” said Roger. “Love it when he punts Tim Roth across the field.”

  “I’d be up for that,” said Clive.

  “Me, too,” said Xela.

  “Anyway,” Nate said, “let’s talk mysteries first.” He sat down on the arm of a chair near the television and faced the group. Xela, Veek, and Tim sat on the couch closest to him. Debbie, Clive, and Mandy were on the one behind them. Roger straddled one of the smaller folding chairs and rested his chin on his arms.

  “So, we’ve all noticed weird stuff here,” said Nate. “I was thinking if we all compared notes we might start to see some sort of bigger pattern or something.”

  “Something like what?” asked Tim.

  Nate shrugged. “If I knew, it wouldn’t be a mystery.”

  Roger put up two fingers. “What do we get out of it?”

  “I don’t know. Answers?”

  “It’d be cool if there was a bunch of Nazi gold buried here or something,” said Veek, “but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  They all chuckled. Mandy raised her hand. “Is Oskar okay with all this?”

  Nate shifted on the arm of the chair. “To be honest,” he said, “no. A couple of us have tried to talk to him about it, but he seems pretty dead-set on keeping things in the dark. He kind of implied if we dug around too much we could get evicted.”

  “He didn’t imply,” said Veek. “He openly told me.”

  Mandy’s eyes went wide. She stood up. “I can’t be part of that,” she said. “I can’t get evicted.”

  Nate put up a hand. “We’re just talking,” he assured her. “He can’t evict us for talking. It’s just the more active stuff.”

  “You sure?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  She sat back down, but she didn’t look relaxed anymore.

  Nate talked about the possible sub-basement, and about calling the Department of the Interior regarding the plaques. Then, for those who hadn’t heard it, he told the story of running into Kathy the actress who had pretended to be Toni the property manager. Veek also mentioned her search for P.T. Kavach.

  Roger raised his fingers again. He looked confused. “The building’s named Kavach?”

  Veek shook her head. “Didn’t you ever notice the big letters over the door?”

  He shrugged. “Never look at that stuff. None of it’s ever important.”

  “Anyway,” Nate said, “we’re guessing P.T. Kavach is one of the architects or original owners or something, but we can’t find anything on him.”

  “Where’d you get the name?” asked Tim.

  “Off the cornerstone.” Nate flipped though the legal pad on the chair next to him and pulled out a photo Veek had printed out. He handed it to Tim, and Xela leaned over to peer at it. Mandy peeked over the older man’s shoulder. “We have no idea who WNA is. Veek thinks PTK is P.T. Kavach.”

  “It’s not PTK, though,” said Mandy.

  Debbie shook her head. “Nope.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not how you read monograms,” Mandy said.

  “Yeah,” Xela said. “The big letter in the middle, that’s the last initial. It’s WAN and PKT.”

  “I think they’re right,” said Tim. He handed the picture back.

  Veek looked at it. “That’s kind of silly.”

  “Didn’t y’all ever have a monogrammed sweater when you were a girl?” asked Mandy. “Or a purse or schoolbag or something?”

  Veek stared over her glasses at Mandy. “Do I seem like the sweater and purse type to you?”

  Nate sighed. “Okay,” he said, “so...now we know nothing about the people who built this place.”

  “Have you tried the Hall of Records?” asked Clive. “Public Works has got to have building permits or something.”

  “I put in a couple of requests,” said Nate. “Haven’t heard back yet on any of them.” He shoved the photo back into the legal pad. “Has anyone noticed anything else odd about their apartments? Things that just seem a little off or unusual?”

  They shifted in their seats. Clive cleared his throat. “You know how we took all those measurements last weekend?”

  Nate nodded. So did everyone else.

  “Well, I was looking over them and noticed something else. Not only do all of our apartments have different layouts, they’re all different sizes.”

  “I thought your place looked bigger,” Nate said to Mandy.

  Clive nodded. “Mandy’s is the biggest, yeah. But there’s a couple inches difference between all of them.”

  “Isn’t that just, like, a plus or minus thing?” asked Xela. “You know, some operator error with the tape measure or something?”

  He shook his head. “That might change things an inch here or there at the most. I’m talking five or six inches.”

  Nate drummed his fingers on his thigh. “D’you still have all those numbers?”

  “Yeah. I can shoot you a copy.”

  He nodded. “Maybe we can spot a pattern or something.”

  Mandy raised her hand. “Does the elevator count as a mystery? I don’t think it’s ever worked.”

  “It’s never worked while we were here,” said Debbie.

  Nate tried to recall his moving-in day. “Oskar told me it’s never worked while he was here.”

  “I’m not sure Oskar’s a trustworthy source,” said Veek.

  “Maybe there is no elevator,” said Xela. “It could’ve been removed decades ago. It might just be an empty shaft.”

  “Elevator’s in the basement,” said Roger.

  Veek’s eyebrows went up. “How do you know?”

  “LED flashlight,” he said. “Lights up the whole shaft through the window in the door. Checked it out one night right after I moved in. You can see all the cables, but no car.” He shrugged. “It’s not on any of these three floors, so it’s in the basement.”

  Tim frowned. “Does the elevator go to the basement?”

  “Technically, the elevator doesn’t go anywhere,” said Nate.

  Xela smirked. “Wiseass.”

  “If it does, i
t’d be behind those big double doors,” said Veek. “It’s too close to the front of the building.”

  “I’m thinking we might try to get into there next weekend,” said Nate. “We just need to figure out a way to get through the locks and chains.”

  “I can help with that,” said Roger. “I can pick locks.”

  Tim raised an eyebrow.

  “Seriously?” Nate asked.

  Roger nodded. “Oh,” he said, “Love this bit.” He pointed to the screen, where Ed Norton raced through a Brazilian city with Tim Roth and a special ops team in hot pursuit.

  “I’ve got something else,” said Mandy.

  “Shoot,” said Nate.

  “Well, it’s not in the building,” she said. “It’s just something... I don’t know. It kind of bothers me.” He gestured for her to go on and she shrugged. “I think there’s a guy watching the building.”

  Tim coughed. “What?”

  “I’ve seen this guy hanging out a couple times. He just sits in his car. Sometimes he’s using a laptop. A couple times I’ve caught him looking at the building with binoculars. Like a peeper.”

  “The guy in the green car,” said Clive. “He’s always hogging two spaces.”

  “Yeah,” said Nate. “I’ve seen him, too.”

  Tim sighed. “I can answer this one,” he said.

  “You know him?”

  “Sort of.” He looked at Nate and glanced over at Roger. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you guys about deciding to start a new life. A lie by omission.”

  Roger bent his middle finger, pressed his thumb against it, and popped the knuckle. “What’d you leave out?”

  The older man drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. “A month before I got the buyout offer, I found out my wife was sleeping around. Some guy she’d met at work.”

  Debbie’s face fell. “Oh,” she said. “That’s awful.”

  Tim nodded. “We separated. She moved in with him. When the offer came, it seemed like a real godsend. A chance to pack up and move out. So I filed for divorce, sold the company, and here I am.”

  “So the guy’s, what,” asked Veek, “her new boyfriend?”

  Tim shook his head. “He’s a private detective. She knows she’s fucked once we walk into divorce court—pardon my language, ladies—so she hired him to spy on me. He’s been keeping tabs on me twenty-four-seven for the past month. If he can get something good, her lawyers can spin it to look like I drove her away or some bullshit.”