Roofworld

by Christopher Fowler

  ‘Right,’ said Rose. ‘We know about the stations. They’re named after the people who built the buildings below them, right?’

  ‘Right. How do you know that?’

  ‘We’ll trade secrets later. Go on.’

  ‘Over the years, the field of operation has been extended as far down as Hammersmith. But nobody’s ever found a way to get across the river.’ As he talked, Lee produced a loop of cord joined to a small metal sleeve. This he clicked from Rose’s belt to the line. She was now sitting with her legs dangling over the parapet. Robert was beginning to feel sick.

  ‘This is what we call a beginner’s strap. It’s a little slower than the ones Jay and I use. You can’t fall. The cord will take fifteen times your weight. The metal sleeve is locked over the line and just makes it easier for you to pull yourself across.’

  Rose looked uncertainly at Robert, but surprised him the next moment by pushing herself out into the air with calm ease. In seconds, she was halfway across the space between the two buildings. Then she came to a stop, rocking gently backwards and forwards in mid-air.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ called Lee.

  ‘Nothing, I just shouldn’t have looked down.’ Rose continued across, half by using her hands on the line, half by simply sliding under her own weight. Reaching the other side, she tried to haul herself up over the brick parapet. She had one leg over the wall and was panting with the exertion, but the cord running from her belt to the main line would allow her to go no further.

  ‘The belt-line won’t reach,’ she called back. ‘How do I get free?’

  ‘The sleeve joining you to the line has a hinge which opens inwards,’ called Lee. ‘Push on it.’

  Rose squeezed the sleeve and it suddenly popped free of the line. For a second she lost her balance and Robert thought she was going to fall out over the roof and down into the street. Then she had uprighted herself and clambered to safety, dropping behind the wall with a thud and a grunt.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Lee called to her. ‘The first time is always the worst.’

  ‘How are you going to get over?’ shouted Rose, peering over the low wall. ‘Do you want me to throw the belt back to you?’

  ‘Won’t be necessary,’ called Lee, who hefted the nylon bag onto his back and climbed over the edge of the roof onto the line. With a few quick steps across the gap he was by Rose’s side.

  ‘Now that’s impressive,’ said Rose. ‘Does everyone know how to do that, or just you?’

  ‘Most of us were taught how to ropewalk, but not many actually like doing it, because as you probably noticed, the lines are slightly greased. Me, I love a chance to show off.’

  ‘The Astaire of the air,’ Jay shouted gleefully. They were like children, thought Robert, as nausea assailed him once more, eager to show off their party tricks.

  Lee looked around the roof upon which he and Rose now stood. Like the last one, it was wide and flat. It led to another building, one with a steeply raked roof covered in ancient slate tiles. ‘The trouble with this area,’ he said, ‘is the guttering. It’s old and can come away quite easily. But they’re doing up a lot of these places and that means good roof conditions—as well as everyone’s best friend, scaffolding. There’s not a street in the city without some scaffolding in it and that’s perfect for hooking on to.’

  ‘I can’t believe nobody knows we’re up here,’ said Rose, watching the banks of traffic lights running the length of Gower Street as they flicked to green in perfect synchronization. The air from the street was now dry and chill, sweeping between her legs and around the back of her neck.

  ‘Nobody ever even looks up here during the day, let alone at night,’ said Lee.

  ‘The Roofworld has a lot of secrets,’ called Simon, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘You’ll see.’

  Rose was exhilarated by her successful crossing. ‘I feel a bit like one of the kids in Mary Poppins,’ she admitted, ‘going up to the roof for a view of London.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll get a view of London all right, when you do your initiation,’ chuckled Lee. ‘Let’s get your friend over. I think we’re going to have trouble with him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Rose looked back over at Robert, who was still sitting on the edge of the next building, staring down at the pavement far below.

  ‘I’d say the poor bastard just found out he’s scared of heights.’

  ‘Look, much as I hate to interrupt,’ called the unmistakable voice of Simon from the other side, ‘we’re too exposed to stay out up here for long. Let’s get these two through the Skelter Run and back to Wren.’

  ‘Christ, Simon, you’re such a worrier,’ Lee called back. He turned to Rose, who was studying Lee’s line-gun, fascinated. ‘Think you’re OK to go back again?’

  ‘Just watch me. How do you get rid of the lines after they’ve been strung up?’

  ‘We always used to unhook them and throw the things away, but now we roll up the line and repack it when we get back. It’s time-consuming, but cheaper than losing the equipment. Come on.’ Lee slipped back out onto the line and crossed in a few nimble steps. Behind him, Rose attached her belt-line once more and swung out from the building. As Robert silently watched, Simon and Jay gave her a hand climbing over the low wall on their side. They were obviously pleased that she had done so well on her first short journey out above the streets.

  ‘We’ll go straight to your initiation,’ said Jay, swinging a small nylon pack similar to Lee’s onto his back. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

  ‘What do we have to do?’ asked Rose, as Simon also picked up one of the backpacks and hefted it onto his shoulder.

  ‘There’s always been a symbolic ceremony for those who want to become part of the Roofworld. These days we’ve set aside most of the ritual bullshit, but the initiation still serves a practical purpose.’

  ‘And what is that?’ asked Rose.

  ‘To find out if you’ve a head for heights,’ said Simon. Together, they turned and looked at Robert, who remained squatting sickly on the edge of the parapet.

  Chapter 19

  Butterworth

  ‘Well, it seems pretty bloody obvious to me, Butterworth. Think, boy.’ Ian Hargreave leaned as far back in his chair as it would go and thoughtfully scratched the top of his head. Before him stood Detective Constable Butterworth, desperate to please. With his baby-blue eyes and unkempt sandy hair, Butterworth looked scarcely old enough to be on the force. His face was smothered in freckles, rather like a Disney character.

  ‘Well, sir. They’ve all occurred within the space of a week.’

  ‘You and your grandmother could both be knocked down by a bus in the space of a week, but it wouldn’t have to have been the same driver.’

  Butterworth was silent. He stayed well beyond reach of Hargreave’s arms, which he heard had a tendency to lash out and attack people and objects.

  Butterworth had entered the force in order to keep the peace with his father, the commissioner. He figured that if he minded his own business and managed not to annoy anyone, he would be left alone until such time as he could quietly leave. However, he had not counted on meeting Sergeant Janice Longbright, who insisted that she saw great unrealized potential in the gawky youth and had talked him into being singled out by Hargreave for some kind of special assignment.

  ‘Modus operandi, Butterworth?’ Hargreave suddenly creaked forward in his chair, causing Butterworth nervously to step back a foot.

  ‘Well, uh, no discernible pattern emerging yet, sir.’

  Hargreave dropped his head into his hands. ‘Out of respect for your father and the good faith of Sergeant Longbright I will continue to try and make you understand the value of sound criminal analysis, Butterworth, though I realize I might as well be talking to that hat-rack over there. You have studied these cases on the computer file, have you not?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Very carefully.’

  ‘And is there nothing that strikes you about all three deaths?’

&nbs
p; ‘Not immediately, sir.’

  ‘What do you mean, “not immediately”, you hopeless nit?’ He thumped the top of the console before him, causing the screen to roll. ‘A young man gets electrocuted on a neon sign. Witnesses say he “flew into it”. A boy is found speared on the railings of an insurance office. Another is found skinned, for Christ’s sake, inside a shop awning!’ Having attacked the console, Hargreave thought it only fair to thump the desktop with his fist as well, spilling tea in his saucer and making Butterworth wince.

  ‘To me it seems rather obvious that all three deaths occurred from somewhere above the ground. The only bloodstains found at pavement level were where the bodies had landed. Victim number two was the only one to be killed by the fall and even that we’re not sure about as he may have had his skull damaged initially by a powerful bird. The other two were well and truly dead before they kissed the concrete. Now, how many dozen reports have we had in the last six months concerning rooftop prowlers in this area?’

  ‘Which area, sir?’

  Eyes closed, Hargreave pinched the top of his nose between thumb and forefinger. Why had he listened to Janice and allowed the boy to have access to the files? Because he loved her? Reluctantly he agreed that this was very likely the reason.

  ‘As the deaths took place in Piccadilly, Charing Cross and Regent Street respectively, Butterworth, I think we can risk defining the area, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll find out right away, sir.’

  ‘There’s no need. I already have a report here.’ Hargreave flicked through several sheets of computer printout paper. ‘There have been nearly sixty miscellaneous sightings, with the frequency of sighting increasing to a high over the last month. Sixty sightings! Why hasn’t this been picked up by anyone? Because until now nobody has needed to collect such statistics. That’s the way it is with a lot of crimes. The answers are there in front of you in the form of statistical analysis, but the right connections have to be made before you can think of pulling out the relevant facts.’

  Butterworth looked thoughtfully at the carpet, in a manner which suggested that he was carefully weighing and digesting Hargreave’s comments. In reality he was wondering how he could contrive to leave the office and return to his desk in the shortest possible time.

  ‘Now, what do we have to add to our sightings? Three deaths! The fact that people are dying at a rate of one a day implies that there may be more than one faction involved, wouldn’t you say? So could it be gang warfare of some kind? One of the victims was a registered methadone user, all three bodies showed traces of drugs. Is this a drug war, or does it merely indicate a pack of no-hopers slugging it out between themselves?’ Hargreave glumly stared down at his desktop, as if hoping to find the killer there. ‘It’s a little difficult to find anything out about the third victim. It would have helped if he’d still had his skin on.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why he didn’t have any, sir.’

  ‘That’s just it, Butterworth, you can’t imagine. Maybe he had an identifying birthmark, or was covered with telltale tattoos. Maybe he just took it off ’cause he was hot.’

  ‘Sorry, sir?’ Butterworth shuffled uneasily on the carpet.

  ‘You will be if we don’t get to work on this pretty damned quick. Your father was a great detective. If he could see you now he’d be revolving in his grave.’

  ‘Er…’ Butterworth coughed into his fist. ‘He’s not dead, sir.’

  ‘No, but you’ll kill him. The first victim had a record, just minor offences. He was officially registered as a Missing Person about a year ago. Interesting, wouldn’t you say? Chase up the I.D. checks on the other two and find out if either of them was also registered missing. Here, take the files and make a copy for yourself.’ Hargreave slid a box of hard discs across his desktop. ‘Then start asking some discreet questions. You know the press status on this. When you’ve come up with some answers, we’ll compare notes, shall we?’

  After Butterworth had thankfully retreated from the office, Hargreave turned to the remaining printout folded across his desk. Like it or not, there was something big and nasty coming down on the city. Hargreave found himself wondering how many more bodies would have to turn up before they managed to find out exactly what it was.

  Chapter 20

  The Skelter Run

  ‘Try to get used to looking down. It’s better if you learn to judge the distance beneath you.’ Simon finished locking Robert’s belt in place and stood up.

  ‘I cannot do this,’ whispered Robert, finally. ‘I’ve got vertigo.’ He was standing on the edge of the roof with Rose and Lee, waiting to be clipped onto the cable which passed above their heads. He could feel the wind buffeting his back and plucking at his jacket sleeves, trying to suck him over the edge into the concrete chasm below.

  ‘You can and you will,’ promised Simon. ‘You haven’t got vertigo. That only happens when you lose all your points of reference and can’t orient your direction up or down. You only have to look at the rooftops below to figure out which way up you are.’

  ‘That’s a great comfort.’

  ‘It’s all in the mind. I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with heights once you’ve done the run.’

  ‘Sure I won’t, because by that time I’ll be pasted to the pavement.’ Robert’s face had drained of colour. ‘The embarrassment of dying in Euston,’ he muttered, looking up at the cable. It was attached to the top of a disused hoist. They were now standing in the most southerly corner of the building, preparing to leave the roof.

  ‘Most buildings have half a dozen bar-hooks on them for connecting lines, but this is a permanent run,’ Simon was saying as he clipped the lines from their belts into metal sleeves which he produced from his bag.

  ‘We used to have races down this, didn’t we, Lee? We called it the Skelter Run, because it’s one of the steepest runs in the city. It passes through a number of connecting stations before finishing on the roof of the Savoy in the Strand. And don’t worry, Groundies, it’s quite safe.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve never had a death on this one.’ Jay swung himself up on the hoist and began joining the metal sleeves to the cable overhead.

  ‘It’s a fast run,’ continued Simon, talking to keep their minds from the trip ahead. ‘But you won’t go down at full speed, because you each have the beginner’s strap. It’s really just a rough piece of leather that fits inside the sleeve your line is attached to, to slow your descent. We’ll be following behind at regular…’

  Suddenly, there was a strange hissing sound in the air above them, like an arrow being fired. Then another and another. Robert looked around in time to see Jay fall from the hoist, clutching his neck. His face was spattered with blood. Rose let out a terrified yelp.

  ‘Fuck it! I knew we were taking too long!’ Simon ran back to where the body had fallen. Further hissing sounds filled the air.

  ‘For Chrissakes get down!’ Simon crouched low over Jay, trying to staunch the blood which was pumping fiercely from his friend’s slashed throat.

  ‘Bastards! It’s gone right in. Lee, give me a hand!’

  Lee ran to Jay’s side and examined the wound. Around them, the sound of tiny metallic objects rained down onto the rooftop. ‘He’s gonna die before we get him back to Zalian,’ said Lee. ‘Look at him.’

  Simon held Jay down by the shoulders as his body began to convulse violently. Rose and Robert had fallen to the ground behind the low wall running along the edge of the roof. Lee jumped up and ran for the hoist, where the lines to their belts hung half-connected. Robert raised his head enough to see half a dozen dark figures running toward them on the next roof. He heard the clatter of steel on brick as they fired their line-guns. There was a hiss and something fell close by. It was a familiar glistening disc of metal. Robert reached out his hand.

  ‘Don’t touch it!’ shouted Simon. ‘The edges are razor-sharp and they’re usually poisoned.’ Robert looked closer. It was an old penny, polished and honed so that light
glinted from its edge, a piece of deadly ammunition.

  ‘You’re connected!’ Lee bellowed at Robert from the top of the hoist. ‘Get going!’

  He leapt down just as Simon stood. Blood had darkly spattered his chest and arms. Lee started toward Jay’s twitching body.

  ‘He’s dead, Lee; that’s his nervous system reacting to the poison. We have to leave.’

  Behind them, the figures were now crossing the gap between the two roofs. Another hail of razor-sharp coins rang against the hoist. Rose pulled Robert to his feet and looked at the overhead cable.

  ‘You have to do it now, Robert!’ she screamed.

  ‘Can’t!’ he shouted back, looking over the edge of the roof at the six-floor drop to the road.

  ‘For Christ’s sake go!’ Lee ran to the edge and pushed against Robert’s back. Robert thrust out his arms in resistance, but one foot slid from beneath him and he lost his balance. As he fell out beyond the edge, the line connecting his belt to the cable sprang taut and he swung around backwards, his other foot still hooked over the low wall. The first of the figures was only twenty yards away now. Lee kicked him hard in the shin and as Robert lifted his leg in surprise he found himself shooting out down the cable and away into darkness.

  Rose poised herself on the wall and leapt out into space. The line from her belt tensed and held her. She felt her stomach lift, as if she was hitting the first big dip on a roller coaster. The metal sleeve above her head roared along the cable. Far beneath her feet, roads and pavements flashed past. The sound of the wind filled her head. Up in front, Robert’s body turned and bounced on the cable like a rag doll as he struggled in panic.