Roofworld

by Christopher Fowler

  ‘Isn’t that dangerous for them?’ asked Rose.

  ‘We don’t ask them to do anything which would jeopardize their jobs. They just keep their eyes and ears open and report back to us. In return, we pay them a supplementary wage. A pension, if you like.’

  ‘And all this goes through the files of your own company?’

  ‘Companies. We change them every few years to prevent the Inland Revenue from getting suspicious. You’ll appreciate the irony of our most recent business. Valiant Security Lock and Co.’

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ said Rose. ‘They’re the people who installed the alarm system in our apartment building. But those guys came in through the front door, not the roof.’

  ‘Old Boys.’

  ‘And that’s how you were able to keep a watch on the place.’

  ‘See how easy it is once you’re organized?’ said Zalian, tilting back in his chair and crossing his long denim-clad legs, pleased with himself. ‘You know, we even had them search Charlotte’s apartment, looking for the damned notebook. They found nothing and then we realized that our own security system, once it was up and working, kept us from getting back into your building.’ Zalian thought for a moment. ‘Bit of a cock-up, that. I’ll have to make sure we’ve got someone who knows how to hotwire the system next time.’

  ‘Let me know in advance and I’ll arrange to leave a door open,’ said Rose with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘We have other companies, too….Albion Tiling, Imperial Pipe and Gutter…they provide the necessary financial structures through which we can launder money before relocating it. In fact, we just registered our own charity for combating teen drug abuse. I figured it might do something for the ones who come up here and don’t stay.’ Zalian closed the program and inserted another hard disc into the computer. ‘All we’re doing is beating the system at its own game for as long as we can possibly get away with it. I always figured that we’d slip up somewhere, that someone would catch on to what we were doing, but nobody’s been fast enough up to now.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Rose. ‘If you’ve got all this money coming in, why are the runs falling into disrepair?’

  ‘It’s not through lack of money. We no longer have the right people to help maintain the system. Many of our key teams were enticed over to the other side, to help herald the birth of the New Age. Right now there are more people up here than ever before, but they’re not joining up with us. Most of them have become willing disciples of Chymes. Let’s face it, it’s a more attractive package. They’re given free drugs, money, sex, whatever he feels like offering them and all that’s asked in return is their loyalty. How can we compete?’

  ‘Don’t they bother to keep the runs in working order?’

  ‘There are so many crossing the city that nobody’s really worried if a few become unusable. But soon it will be too late to return the network to its former standard.’ Zalian rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hand. He looked tired. ‘Our plans for saving the system were curtailed when all the trouble started. After it’s over—though I very much doubt that we’ll still be here—I suppose we could start to rebuild.’

  ‘It must have taken someone very special to come up with all this,’ said Robert, watching as Zalian scrolled the screen. Hundreds of familiar multinational brand-names unrolled before his eyes, each with its own file code.

  ‘The system more or less evolved by itself through the work of many people. A chain of knowledge, passed down from one generation to the next, and all for what? To provide an escape, a way out of the life below. But now I’m starting to believe that the Roofworld’s time is really over. Who needs it any more?’

  Robert was wary of this turn in the conversation. Zalian appeared more tired and haggard by the minute, as if he had already been defeated.

  ‘Before Jay died he said something odd.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The doctor raised his broad skull from the transmitter and stared at him, obviously miles away in his thoughts.

  ‘He said that most of you would be dead by dawn on Sunday. Why Sunday?’

  Before Zalian could answer Rose cut in, tapping the book with a tapered brown finger. ‘Chymes is more than just a crazy mystic, that much is obvious. Perhaps Sunday has some kind of special significance to him.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Zalian. ‘Our own operations reach a peak at the time of the full moon. It’s one of the few traditions which have remained unbroken.’

  ‘I don’t get the connection,’ said Robert.

  ‘Diana the Huntress was latterly goddess of the moon. And Apollo corresponded to the sun,’ Rose explained. ‘If we assume that the New Age represents an inversion of all that is good in Doctor Zalian’s society, perhaps we should be looking to the opposite of these gods.’

  ‘I’ve already thought of that,’ said Zalian. ‘The Greek deities have no real alter egos. Their opposite numbers in Roman mythology also fail to correspond.’

  ‘Then maybe Chymes’ set-up has nothing to do with mythology at all,’ said Robert. ‘Perhaps it’s the very opposite of mythology….’

  ‘It looks more like it’s based on a load of Satanic gobbledygook,’ Rose pointed out. ‘Look here….’ She pointed to midway down a page in the notes.

  ‘There are several passages here about the release of power through sexual sacrifice.’ Zalian leaned against Rose’s shoulder, reading the page with her.

  ‘No wonder they won over so many of your men, Zalian,’ said Robert.

  ‘We also have “ritual intercourse for the assurance of victory” and the “runic power of symbols”, although it doesn’t say of what kind of symbol. How many of your people are actually missing, presumably awaiting execution? Twelve, you said, didn’t you?’

  ‘Twelve including Sarah, that’s right.’

  Robert watched Rose calmly take control of the proceedings. She seemed to fit in up here somehow, acting in a cocky and self-assured manner that matched her personality. He had a feeling that he preferred her as she had been before. At least he had known how to react then.

  ‘The number twelve could have some significance. Something to do with the zodiac?’ he suggested.

  ‘One victim for each horoscopic sign?’ said Rose, brightening up. ‘You mean some kind of black magic ritual based around the creation of a human zodiac.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Robert, holding up his hands. ‘What are we saying here? It seems unlikely that before Chymes’ men carry out a kidnap they stop to ask when the victim was born. “Sorry, can’t sacrifice you, we need an Aries.” We’re better off accepting that the guy is a nut and that his band of merry men are simply cranks and junkies.’ Robert rose from his packing-crate stool and stretched. ‘This place is starting to get to me. I’m going to clear my head for a minute.’

  Outside, the lights of far-off buildings on the other side of the Thames glittered and winked in the cold, moisture-laden air. With the passing of the night’s traffic, the sounds from the streets had ceased completely and an eerie deadening silence had fallen.

  Robert breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with surprisingly fresh air. His eyes were sore and gritty, yet he felt far from tired. In the harsh morning light he knew that all of this would once again seem remote and fantastic. Maybe there wasn’t anybody trying to kill him at all. It could be that he was becoming just as crazy as the others….

  ‘Robert.’

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. Rose stood at his side, looking out over the deserted city streets. He could feel the warmth of her palm through the material of his jumpsuit. He wanted to press back against her, but something inside refused to let him, the subconscious knowledge that he would never make love with her, that he was not the kind of man she desired.

  ‘Come back in.’

  ‘You seem to be doing fine by yourselves,’ he said morosely. ‘I don’t trust Zalian. He’s had plenty of time to study the book, yet he’s found out nothing.’

  ‘I think it’s safe to
assume that he’s one of the good guys,’ said Rose. ‘The blonde hair, the white teeth. He’s too cute to be bad.’

  ‘All the notebook says about him is that he’s a reformed alcoholic. That’s terrific leadership material. And how come he gets to stay behind in all this?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll ask him if you’re that concerned. I’m sure there’s a reason.’

  But it was too late. Robert’s frustration broke through into anger. ‘You go and ask ol’ Blue Eyes. I’ve had enough of his bullshit for a while.’

  He stormed off across the windswept roof, leaving Rose standing alone, upset and growing equally as exasperated. Robert’s behaviour had nothing to do with his distrust of Zalian, she could see that—it was sexual jealousy, pure and simple. He resented her showing friendliness to another man, just as he probably resented her agility and intelligence. It made him feel weak and threatened. Well, he could go to hell for all she cared. She spun around on the heel of her sneaker and stalked back towards the conduit and the operations room. The first report was crackling in from what sounded like Lee’s group.

  ‘Nothing so far, Nat. We’ve come down through Mayfair and we’re heading towards the Mall, over.’

  ‘Remember to avoid your map references centre-ten through thirty, Lee,’ said Zalian into the microphone. He turned at the sound of the door opening and beckoned Rose over.

  ‘We have to be very careful in parts of the West End,’ he explained. ‘They have high-resolution roof cameras all around the royal buildings, on top of the embassies and along Downing Street. They’re putting more technology up here every day. Most of the surveillance is to help control traffic flow, but there’s an increasing amount of equipment appearing that’s designed to advance-alert suspected criminal and terrorist activity. We keep having to come up with new ways of getting around it.’

  The transmitter crackled back to life. ‘Wilco, base. It would help if we knew what we were looking for, over.’

  ‘We’ll call you as soon as we have something. At the moment all I can tell you is to keep an eye out for any tracks Chymes and his men may have left and to radio them in before marking them on your map. Call me if you find anything at all out of the ordinary and we’ll do the same. Over and out.’ Zalian signed off and tipped his chair back. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes, seemingly exhausted.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be much here about the New Age at all,’ said Rose, taking her seat once more and flicking through the last five or six pages of Charlotte’s notebook.

  ‘Which book are you looking in?’

  ‘The second one.’

  ‘Give me the other one.’ Rose tossed the notebook across to Zalian. Outside, the wind began to moan dismally around the corners of the building. ‘There are drawings of a number of horoscope symbols here, rams and moons and goats. And some more about you.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Zalian took it from her and read several pages before setting the book aside. ‘Not a very flattering portrait,’ he said finally. ‘According to this I’m a “misguided idealist”. She had a bloody nerve writing that, considering she never even got to meet me. Charlotte presumably took down the notes from conversations she had with her daughter, but they seem to be in no kind of order. Let’s try something else.’

  ‘What do Satanists believe in?’ asked Rose. ‘Isn’t it something to do with the elemental spirits? Fire, water, earth and air? Maybe they’re holed up in a place you could freely associate with a particular element.’

  ‘Like a fire station, or the river?’ asked Zalian, looking back with a dubious frown. ‘Or even the airport?’

  ‘It’s worth a try. Make a list of all possible places in the immediate area which you could associate with an elemental sign and have your teams check them out.’

  ‘Do you know how long that would take?’ said Zalian. ‘There are so many possible hiding places that we wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface looking for them. It’s hardly a wonder that they call London the most elusive city in the world. Its character changes from one street to the next. There’s no rhyme or reason, no pattern to the place. You could take six people at random from the centre of town, ask them to write down all the places they visit regularly and find that their circles of movement don’t overlap at more than one or two points. Each of them would see a different city.’ Zalian shook his head and returned to the book.

  Only the increasing rush of chill wind could be heard outside, sweeping over the roof, buzzing in the station cables. Within the conduit, the lightbulbs overhead swayed slightly, twisting yellow light between the shadows of the tiny operations room. Rose rubbed her eyes and stared at the book. ‘Maybe we should give Dennis Wheatley a call. Or is he dead? Perhaps we could have a séance and get through to him.’

  ‘This is serious, Rose,’ said Zalian, throwing down his pen. ‘If you’re tired, take a nap. I’ll listen out for the radio.’ He looked down at the blank notepad in front of him, then over at the young woman who sat hunched by the lamp, tilting pages up to the flickering light. As he pushed himself back from the desk he turned to her, reaching out his hand to touch her shoulder. ‘All this must seem very odd to you,’ he said, a slight smile crossing his face. ‘You’re handling it as if you’ve been in the Roofworld for years. Very impressive.’

  ‘I’m dead resilient, me,’ said Rose, gently pulling free and rising from her seat. ‘Madness, danger, sudden violence, I can cope. It’s just like being at home with the TV on.’

  ‘But this is real life,’ said Zalian. ‘You can’t switch channels. And I get just as scared as any of the others, except that I’m not supposed to admit it. Do you want something to keep you awake?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’ve been lacing strong black coffee with a little something to keep me on edge.’

  ‘I’d kill for some plain hot caffeine.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be back in a minute. Then you come with me.’

  Zalian vanished and returned a full five minutes later with a grin on his face, beckoning Rose out onto the roof and around to the rear of the conduit.

  Amazingly, there in the shadows was a full-sized hot drinks vending machine, lit up and hotwired to the circuits of the floor below. It provided an extra touch of the bizarre in an already surreal landscape.

  ‘It was a bastard getting it up here,’ said Zalian. ‘We painted it grey to look like part of the ventilation system, but I’m not sure if the effect comes off.’ He handed Rose a scalding plastic cup. ‘Cheers.’ If he had noticed that Robert was missing, he failed to mention it. Rose gave him a cool, appraising look. She had no doubt that Zalian could be a real charmer. Physically he was imposing. What bothered her, though, was his seeming lack of concern over Sarah. Was he being careful to hide his true feelings about her? Didn’t he say that he had been her lover? She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, watching him.

  ‘Stars,’ said Zalian dreamily, crumpling his now-empty cup and pointing into the crystalline darkness above them. ‘Don’t often see those in town.’

  ‘Why not?’ Rose tilted her head back. She felt as if the icy void of the space above was reaching down to envelop her.

  ‘The city throws off too much light. It reflects back from the clouds.’ Silence fell between them. In the distance, a barge mournfully sounded its horn.

  ‘You remember that old song, “Up on the roof”?’ Rose hummed a few bars.

  ‘I guess that’s pretty much been our anthem,’ said Zalian. ‘People up here always end up singing it when they’re drunk.’ He laughed with the memory. ‘Lee and Spice tried to get a jukebox onto the top of Mornington Crescent tube station once. They almost managed it.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Oh, they brought it across the rooftops via Camden Lock and one of the runs broke. It fell into the canal, made a hell of a noise. I thought we were going to wake up the whole neighbourhood. It took Lee’s collection of rare Presley 45’s to a watery grave.’

  They fell silent
once more. Far below them, the light from miniature rows of streetlamps fluttered in the damp night air.

  ‘That was another thing,’ he said suddenly. ‘We used to throw parties in department stores. Back in the so-called good old days, we’d take over an entire floor and have a feast. Marks and Spencer on a Saturday night, Harrods for special occasions. Invitation only. Selfridges was good, too.’ He turned and looked out at the city spread below, a rumpled blanket of lights and building blocks, like some complex and expensive toy cast aside by a spoiled child.

  ‘I often wondered if we were the only ones,’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps there are people like us in New York, swinging between the skyscrapers and dining at Bloomingdale’s. Or in Paris, throwing parties on top of the Arc de Triomphe and connecting runs from the Eiffel Tower.’

  ‘I’m sure there are others out there. There must be.’

  Rose shivered and Zalian put his arms around her, pulling her closer. In the next moment he had reached down and was kissing her, pressing himself against her body with a strength which made Rose raise her hands in defence. She pulled free and looked into his eyes. What she perceived was a tension, a flash of torment which turned in on itself behind a sapphire-cold gaze. He inclined his head to kiss her again, blonde hair falling lazily into his eyes. Sliding his hand around her back, he pressed her breasts against his broad, warm chest.

  ‘Wait, wait, Nathaniel, I can’t do this.’ Rose pulled free and stood apart. ‘Sarah could be dead or wounded and you don’t seem to…’

  ‘Fuck Sarah.’ He stepped forward and reached his hands towards her once more. Rose moved slowly back. My God, she thought, there’s something wrong here. Stay calm and stall him. She twisted her head to one side. Where the hell had Robert gone?

  ‘We should be out there searching with the others,’ she said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  ‘They can move faster than you. Besides, we can do more good here.’

  ‘Can we? We’ve done nothing so far. There haven’t even been any messages on the…’ She stopped suddenly. Breaking away, she ran back to the entrance of the conduit.