MONOLITH

by Shaun Hutson

  ‘You never know. We just need a bit of luck. Maybe we’ll get it.’

  Johnson raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I won’t hold my breath,’ he said, flatly.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  The phone call he’d received earlier that day had instructed Adrian Murray to be in his office at eleven o’clock that night.

  Nothing more. There had been no other instructions other than the need for him to be there at that particular hour. All matters would be resolved then he had been assured.

  Murray had considered complaining about the lateness of the hour, telling the caller that it was inconvenient for him to be there so late but he had decided against any show of recalcitrance and agreed somewhat irritably that the meeting would go ahead at the time stated. It was, after all, the result of several phone calls made during the last few days and he was satisfied that matters could be resolved once and for all tonight and most definitely in his favour. The thought brought a thin smile to his face.

  Now he paced his office impatiently, glancing every few moments at his watch and then at the wall clock that hung behind his desk, the loud ticking of which seemed to fill the air along with his breathing. On one side of the room there was a small cabinet inside which he kept some bottles of liquor and some fine crystal glasses which were occasionally brought out for more important visitors and it was towards this cabinet that Murray now moved. He reached inside and took out the bottle of Glenfiddich, pouring himself a large measure and sipping it, feeling the amber fluid burn its way to his stomach. Again he looked at his watch, muttering under his breath.

  It was almost 11.16.

  Punctuality was something he always prided himself on and when others failed to show it with the same diligence it irritated him. He took another sip of his scotch and crossed to the window of his office, gazing out on the deserted street beyond.

  There was no sign of movement anywhere, not even approaching cars or taxis and this only served to annoy Murray even more. He glanced at the phone on his desk and wondered if he should call to check on the whereabouts of his visitor but then decided against it.

  He was still standing in the middle of the office clutching his glass when his mobile rang.

  Murray looked down but the caller i.d. showed nothing but UNKNOWN. He pressed the mobile to his ear.

  ‘Yes?’ he snapped.

  The voice at the other end asked if he was in his office.

  ‘Of course I’m in my bloody office,’ Murray said, angrily. ‘This is where you told me to be at eleven o’clock tonight. I’m here waiting for you.’

  The voice at the other end told him not to be impatient.

  ‘I’m not impatient,’ Murray told the caller. ‘I’m angry because you’re late and I’m getting angrier by the minute now where the hell are you?’

  The voice told him to stay where he was and not to leave.

  Murray was about to reply when the line went dead.

  He glared at the phone for a second then slipped it back inside his jacket, glancing out of his office window once again.

  For all his scrutinisation of the street outside he never noticed the black transit van that had pulled up a moment earlier.

  Murray downed more whisky. He wondered if he should wander downstairs and be waiting in the foyer of the building when his visitor arrived but then decided against that course of action. He didn’t want to seem too eager. The two security guards who normally patrolled the building all night had been told not to come in until after midnight on Murray’s personal instructions. When his visitor arrived he wanted to ensure that no one saw him.

  The fewer people who knew about his meeting the better as far as Murray was concerned. Of course he had reasoned it would have been easier to conclude the meeting somewhere else but when his visitor had suggested here in his office it had seemed a natural and more comfortable environment in which to conduct their business.

  Murray smiled to himself. It wouldn’t be a long meeting after all he told himself. Not very long but extremely profitable he mused, the thought making him smile even more broadly. He poured himself some more whisky and waited. He even took out another glass from the cabinet and set it on the dark wood table opposite his desk. His guest might wish to partake of a drink while they talked, he told himself. Murray congratulated himself on his own generosity and looked again at his watch.

  11.25.

  He sighed wearily. How much longer was he going to have to wait? This just wasn’t acceptable.

  It was then he heard the first sounds of movement in the corridor outside his office.

  Murray strode across to the door and wrenched it open.

  ‘It’s about bloody time,’ he began. ‘What time do you …’

  The words froze on his lips as he looked out into the corridor beyond. He stood motionless for precious seconds, his eyes bulging wide in their sockets, his legs seemingly paralysed. The glass slipped from his hand and hit the thick carpet with a dull thud spilling whisky everywhere. He wanted to run. His only thought was to escape from this place but it seemed his muscles would not obey the orders his brain was so frantically sending. He remained rooted to the spot, his lips fluttering soundlessly, the only part of him that could actually move.

  The first blow caught him squarely in the chest and catapulted him backwards a full three feet, his ribs caved in. Splintered to matchwood by the incredible impact. Blood burst from his mouth as the red fluid rushed up from his punctured lungs to fill his throat.

  By the time the second blow landed he felt nothing.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Jonathan Tyler inspected his reflection once again in the polished metal doors of the lift, straightening his tie and brushing a hand through his short hair. He decided to complete his refurbishment by cleaning his glasses too, taking a perfectly pressed handkerchief from his top pocket to complete the task.

  Once he’d finished he set them back in position on his slightly chubby face and checked his watch again.

  He’d already been at the Crystal Tower for the last thirty minutes. He was always early for an appointment that was one of the first things he’d been taught when he started working for the firm of Graham and Barnes Estate Agents. You never keep potential buyers waiting. Always be there first. It was a rule he had always endeavoured to uphold. Now, six years after joining them, he still adhered to their work practices as religiously as he had during his probationary period. When you were dealing with the type of clients that his firm dealt with it was best to present the best image possible.

  Remembering the cheese sandwich he’d had for his lunch, Tyler put a hand to his mouth and exhaled, checking that his breath didn’t smell. It didn’t but he still decided to pop a mint into his mouth so, taking one from the tube in his jacket pocket he began sucking it, nodding to himself when the smell of peppermint began to fill the air around him.

  He brushed some flecks of dust from the sleeve of his suit and pulled the property instructions from his inside pocket, glancing at them just to re-familiarise himself before his potential buyers arrived. Always know the property you’re selling inside out. That was another of the rules drummed into him since he’d joined the firm. Don’t allow yourself to be caught out by any questions the buyers might ask. If they want to know the measurements of the second bedroom, the utility room or the family bathroom then know those measurements and give them instantly. Do not have to refer to your instructions. If they want to know the monthly Council Tax then make sure you know what it is. If they want to know why the last residents moved out then have the reason ready to impart (or if that reason isn’t good enough then have a more suitable one formulated in your mind ready).

  It was all about preparation. The better prepared you were the better chance you had of completing the deal. And if the deal was completed then the firm would benefit and so would the individual Estate Agent. Commission on the properties sold by Graham and Barnes was considerable. Executive homes, luxury apartments, select bijou dwellings f
rom Chelsea to Covent Garden were the currency of Graham and Barnes. During his time with the firm, Tyler couldn’t remember anywhere they’d sold going for less than a quarter of a million and more often than not the price was many times more than that. He himself had overseen the sale of at least five houses to Premier League footballers playing for London clubs, none of which had come in at less than nine million each. The last property he sold (a two bedroom top floor flat in Earls Court) had been bought by a man who only intended to use it four or five times a year when visiting London but Tyler didn’t care if the man bought it then left it empty. He had still collected his commission. Once the deal was closed he thought no more about it.

  It would be the same with this deal today. The apartment on the twenty-third floor of the Crystal Tower was on the market for just over fifteen million pounds. He’d already shown it to three potential buyers who, for various reasons had passed but Tyler was determined to secure a sale today.

  He checked his watch again then he pulled his mobile from his pocket and checked his messages, wondering if there had been something from the office to tell him that the buyers had cancelled. He shook his head. No, there was no such message so he just glanced at his watch again trying to remind himself that he had in fact been early for the appointment.

  He was the only one in the foyer of the Crystal Tower. Above him and also below he could hear sounds of work and movement as tradesmen continued to work on the building but the foyer itself was relatively silent. Tyler paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. He glanced up and saw one of the CCTV cameras mounted on the wall turn slightly to track his progress. The cameras were set up all over the foyer and on the floors above. Tyler thought about waving to it but then decided against that simple gesture. He did manage a smile though as he turned and traipsed back across the foyer, looking once again at his watch.

  He heard a soft electronic whirring sound to his right and turned as one of the lifts bumped to a halt. The doors slid open and Tyler turned to see who was emerging.

  No one came out.

  He glanced into the open car then stepped back as the doors slid shut once more and there was softer whirring. He saw the lights of each floor illuminating as the lift rose and he wondered if someone from higher up in the building had called it, possibly one of the workmen on the floors above but, he reasoned, they were only supposed to use the service lifts around the other side of the building. Was there someone else up there? Tyler knew that a number of the other apartments were also for sale but as far as he was aware Graham and Barnes were also the agents for those and none of his colleagues were in the building or he would have known. He noticed that the lift stopped at the sixteenth floor then, after a moment or two, it began to rise again.

  It stopped on the twenty-third floor.

  There were no workmen that high up the building any longer, Tyler knew that. The apartments had been finished a long time ago. There was no more work to be done on them; there was no need for anyone to be on those upper floors.

  Tyler frowned when he saw that one of the other lifts was now rising towards the same floor.

  It was followed by a third.

  There were five lifts available from the foyer connecting the floors of the Crystal Tower and now three of them were either at or heading for the twenty-third floor. Tyler looked at the bank of panels before him and shook his head. He jabbed a finger at one of the two remaining panels, pressing the Call button.

  He hissed in pain as he felt a powerful electric shock hit him.

  It was strong enough to temporarily numb his hand and he stepped back warily, shaking a little from the sudden unexpectedly savage blast of power.

  Behind him one of the CCTV cameras trained on the foyer whirred quietly as it turned and focussed on him, its single unblinking cyclopean eye fixing him in a glassy stare.

  Tyler groaned and massaged his hand, surprised by the strength of the electric shock he’d received. As he stood there looking accusingly at the panel he wondered if there was some kind of wiring problem. It had to be that. Perhaps that was what was causing the movement of the lifts too he reasoned. He knew they’d had problems before and wondered if a recurrence of the problem was now taking place. Well if it was it wouldn’t do now, not when he had potential buyers on the way. He could hardly ask them to walk up twenty-three flights of stairs to view their new home could he?

  He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his index finger. At least the balled up material would protect him somewhat from the possibility of another shock he told himself. At least he hoped it would.

  He reached out towards the Call button and prepared to press it again.

  FORTY

  Tyler’s finger was shaking slightly as he pushed it tentatively towards the lift Call button.

  Whether or not the makeshift protection offered by his handkerchief would be enough he wasn’t sure and, still aware of how painful the last shock had been, he didn’t particularly want to repeat the experience but he realised he had little choice. He had to ensure that the lifts were working correctly. How stupid would he look if his buyers turned up and all the lifts in the building were defective in some way?

  Still he hesitated, glancing around the foyer once more as if help would magically appear. The CCTV camera that had watched his every move since he entered the foyer was still trained on him and Tyler was beginning to wonder if it might be best for him to just signal to the operator and get some kind of help here. It would at least, he reasoned, save him getting another electric shock.

  Irritated with himself for his own indecision he pulled the handkerchief more tightly around his index finger ensuring that the material was bunched up as thickly as possible. It would, he decided, be ample protection against another electric shock. Wouldn’t it?

  Behind him there was movement and the sound of footsteps moving across the foyer.

  Tyler turned in the direction of the sound, the lifts and his electric shock momentarily forgotten.

  ‘Ah, hello,’ he beamed, the practised professional smile spreading across his face. ‘Mr and Mrs Hadley.’

  He put out his hand, slipping the handkerchief from his finger and pushing it back into his pocket quickly.

  Alex Hadley shook the offered hand firmly. So did Jessica Anderson when her turn came.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Hadley said.

  ‘No, no you’re not late,’ Tyler insisted. ‘I’ve only just got here myself.’

  Jess glanced around the foyer as the three of them headed towards the bank of lifts. Tyler hesitated slightly, looking at the control panels and wondering if he was about to receive another electric shock. However, his reticence was forgotten when he saw that all five lifts had returned to the ground floor where he and his potential buyers now stood.

  Gritting his teeth he prodded the Call button, relieved and delighted when he felt nothing but the warmth from behind the panel. As the doors slid open he ushered Hadley and Jess inside and joined them, pressing the button inside the lift that would carry them to their desired floor.

  ‘I read about the apartments here,’ Jess said. ‘They sound beautiful.’

  ‘They are,’ Tyler said. ‘Very desirable properties.’

  ‘Which would account for the hefty price tags,’ Hadley muttered.

  Tyler laughed easily and convincingly.

  The lift moved fast and the journey to the twenty-third floor was mercifully short, negating the need for all but the most perfunctory exchange of niceties. When the lift finally bumped to a halt Tyler stepped aside to allow Hadley and Jess out into the corridor beyond. Jess could smell the scent of freshly laid carpet and she looked wistfully at the walkway stretching away from them towards the white painted doors of the apartments beyond.

  ‘Have many of the other apartments been sold?’ she asked, her heels sinking into the plush carpet.

  ‘Nearly all of them,’ Tyler informed her. ‘ And of course the owner of the building has th
e Penthouse apartment for himself.’

  ‘I was aware of that,’ Jess said. ‘I suppose that’s a good sign.’

  ‘Well, he has the apartment but how much time he’ll be spending here I don’t know,’ Tyler said. ‘He’s a very busy man.’

  Jess nodded.

  ‘And very private,’ she added.

  ‘Well, the penthouse is only accessible by a private lift for which just Mr Voronov and his staff have the code,’ Tyler went on. ‘But I can understand his need for privacy.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Jess echoed with a complete lack of sincerity in her voice.

  ‘What kinds of people have been buying the other apartments?’ Hadley went on. ‘Rich ones obviously but what kinds of business are they in?’

  ‘That probably qualifies as confidential,’ Tyler said. ‘But I don’t suppose it would do any harm to tell you that there are investment bankers, people from the entertainment business and even an actor among the other buyers.’

  ‘Which actor?’ Jess asked. ‘Is he well known? Are we going to be living near a movie star?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid,’ Tyler said, apologetically.

  Hadley looked at her and rolled his eyes, smiling when she punched his arm.

  ‘Have you got somewhere to sell?’ Tyler enquired as he led them along the corridor.

  ‘No,’ Hadley said. ‘We’re just renting at the moment.’

  ‘We’re just anxious to get a place of our own,’ Hadley added. ‘I mean, renting’s just dead money isn’t it? Why give it to a fucking landlord?’

  Tyler looked a little shocked by the expletive but he nodded enthusiastically and pushed the key into the lock of the door they were standing before.

  ‘How much do you know about the building?’ he said as he unlocked it.