"personal demons" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fowler Christopher)

'You okay?' asked Ben as he passed.
'The monitors are giving me a headache,' the receptionist replied.
As Ben reached his work station he could see staff members discussing something very intently. The broken glass in front of Meadows' office was being swept up, the area sealed off.
'What happened here?'
'Just after you left last night, Mr Meadows went for a walk outside the building and missed his train. By about three feet,' Marie explained. 'Thirty-five floors. They scraped him off the tarmac like a dab of strawberry jam. The police are still looking for his teeth.'
'He must have been - really stressed out.'
'That's an understatement. They're sending people to counsellors. Perhaps now you'll believe me. I have to talk to you.'
'Not again.'
'Remember, I know your little secret.'
Reluctantly, Ben followed her away from the steady gaze of the cameras to the stairwell, and then up four flights of stairs to one of the deserted floors. Heat dials and movement recorders flickered as they crossed the grey carpet tiles. 'They haven't sold this floor yet. No-one can hear or see us.'
Ben felt guilty. 'We shouldn't even be here.' He paused and looked down at his shoes. Dozens of tiny dead insects were arranged in neat curving rows across the floor.
'I need to trust someone,' said Marie. 'I don't want to spoil your chances with the company. I mean - look at you. All freshly scrubbed and innocent.'
'Matthew Felix didn't go missing, he got fired.'
'Nobody knows that for sure. I was due to meet him that night, but he never showed up.'
'Did you talk to the police?'
'They said they'd let me know if they heard anything. It's not like I'm a relative. I'm sure something terrible has happened to him. You're new, you could ask around.' The big appealing eyes swayed him. 'Please?'

Mr Carmichael was a fussy time-server most people avoided, and today he had an appalling head-cold. 'Of course he was stressed,' he told Ben, 'he'd just had a terrible argument with Clark. I don't know where he went, nobody knows. I liked him, he was a nice man. Punctual. I liked Meadows, too. Never thought he'd do something like that. They say it's always the quiet ones, but Meadows... Mind you, everyone else hated his guts.'
In the ceiling corners, gleaming cameras recorded all movement as the air-mixers raised and lowered their pitch. Ben tapped the pencil on his teeth, trying to work it out. Worry made people overdose on sleeping pills, but what could make you hurl yourself to your death? Rainclouds the colour of drain-water rolled past the windows. He looked over at Marie's work station. She briefly glanced up and gave him an absent, tired smile.
'Want to go for a drink tonight?'
'By the time I'm through there won't be anywhere open. Besides, we shouldn't be seen together. Office fraternising is discouraged.'
Her changes of mood were unpredictable. The day passed at a crawl. Ben concentrated on drafting the press releases Carter had outlined to him. When he left the building that night, the thousand storm-streaked panes that looked down on him seemed far more sinister than they had yesterday morning.

*

Clark had been summoned to the director's office, an elegant low-lit suite that was more like a private apartment. Inside, the greying, debonair Temple was checking his watch impatiently, ready to leave.
'I hear the police were trying to get in again, Leonard. This is getting to be a habit.'
'I've told them this is private property,' said Clark, 'that we have our own security force.'
'We're still subject to the laws of the land. Anyone know why Meadows did it?'
'I've asked around. He seemed fine, a little hyper, but so is everyone else with this presentation looming...'
'It's not a wonderful advert for a stress-free environment, is it?'
'An unfortunate coincidence. And now these rumours...'
'You're saying we have - grumblers?' Temple made the word sound sinister. 'If we do, keep an eye on them, report back to me. New York is the big one, the make or break contract. Nothing must jeopardise that. Do you understand? This is more than war. This is business.'

In the reception area of the 35th floor, the monitors were still spewing out their 'Peace and Harmony' sales pitch. Ben passed two managers who were shouting at each other, and another dropping papers everywhere who looked like she'd been up all night.
Lucy, his PA, startled him. 'Can cellular phones give you cancer?' she asked.
'I don't know,' Ben answered. 'Why?'
'I get these headaches all the time. Can you get cancer of the head?'
'Have you seen the company doctor?'
'He thinks I'm faking. Maybe it's these things.' She tapped his monitor.
'Tell me something, Lucy. What was Mr Felix like?'
'Really cute. She soon got her claws into him.' She pointed at Marie's chair.
'Before he left, did he seem strange to you in any way?'
'Not strange. Angry. He'd had an argument with Mr Clark.'
'They didn't get along?'
'Mr Clark hated him. He hates everyone. He already hates you.'
Later that morning, Ben attempted to requisition a file from a harassed Human Resources Officer. 'I told you,' insisted the officer, 'you can't see Mr Felix's medical history without proper authorisation.'
'What about absenteeism?' asked Ben. 'Does Symax have many people off sick?'
'What do you expect? Germs travel through the heating system. There are a few repetitive strain injuries. Always more when we're busy. There's a flu virus decimating the place. All companies get them, but this is particularly bad. We've a bigger health problem, but it doesn't make any sense.'
'What do you mean?'