It was obvious that heaven and the celestial sphere was an abstract dimension hidden just out of sight of most mortals, as the world of finance was.
Looking back at the Bank of England, it becomes clear the temple is at ground level and the wall it is built on is, in fact, its foundations. Everything else at that level is also subterranean. Black cabs and bright red buses crawl through these underground passageways, while swarms of pedestrians bustle along shadowy walkways. Above this, a better world exists in sunlight and splendour.
The headquarters of VirtuBank Software (UK) Ltd were in the heart of the City. No expense had been spared to express the image of cutting-edge technological prowess. The whole façade of the building was gleaming, precision-cut, plate glass, apart from six vertical stainless-steel tracks where transparent lifts slid up and down the exterior.
Richard stepped into one of these lifts from the reception area and, as the brushed steel doors closed behind him, he stepped forward and looked through the plate glass walls at the view. The small courtyard through which he had just passed held its usual throng of tourists and office workers; some looking up at the building, some taking photographs. It was an impressive enough building to merit a photograph.
From inside the building, members of the VirtuBank dev team on the fifth floor would be able to observe Richard, standing stock-still, ascending to their level as though by supernatural force.
Inside the lift, illusions of reflection and translucence bewildered the senses. The views of the surrounding buildings were mirrored back at the same time as other images were permitted to pass through directly, so that it was hard to tell what was real and what was reflection. The image of the skyscraper of St Mary Axe, popularly known as the Gherkin, floated upwards over the receptionist in an adjacent office while, turning round, Richard saw the more solid frame of the building itself looming above him. It shone like a sky-rocket.
Richard walked past reception, along a wide passage and into a large open-plan office. But he did not venture far. The hot-desks were nearest reception so that he, and other travelling consultants, would not disturb the office-based staff, many of whom, scattered randomly, were already bowed over their personal desks, or concentrating on their workstations. He sat down at one of the hot-desks and opened his laptop.
Darion, smartly dressed in a dark suit, came over, and was already wearing an expression of shocked disbelief by the time he was standing beside Richards desk.
What about that, my friend? he said.
I know.
I was really shocked. Really!
What was it? Heart attack? Car accident? Richard was still struggling to imagine what could have caused the sudden death of a perfectly fit and healthy man. Mitchell was only just in his forties.
Darion, a giant of a man with the strong lower jaw of a T-Rex, had a soft Greek accent that was ideal for expressing amazement.
Suicide! In his amazement, Darion elongated the third syllable of the word. His dramatic exclamation caught the attention of everyone in earshot and spread what seemed to be a ripple of unwanted emotion through them. Several co-workers nearby glanced up in apparent annoyance that their concentration had been disturbed.
What! Youre kidding.
No, Darion said in a more neutral tone. It was suicide.
It took a moment for Richard to think of anything to say. Do you know what made him do it?
Nobody knows. Apparently the police said it was a brutal suicide.
God! I wonder what that means?
I dont know. Someone said he jumped in front of a train. Steve Wong had been unloading his laptop onto a nearby desk. Now he came over.
Yes, thats what I heard too. I heard he was in debt.
But come on! Nobody kills themselves just because of a little bit of money. Darions accent had grown a little thicker. He seemed indignant that Mitchell couldnt face up to mere financial problems. After all, they were all City workers. Money was easy to come by. Admittedly, it was easy to lose too, and never quite meant what you imagined it would. He couldve run away somewhere. Whats wrong with Venezuela?
The guys laughed a little. They knew that Darion had recently been to Venezuela and had had a whale of a time with the local girls. The economy there was smashed to bits and any foreigner was seen as a billionaire.
Venezuela is a favourite place for dodgy geezers to run to, said Steve winking at Darion.
You know, its not such a bad idea, my friend. You can go there any time you like; they will welcome you as a hero of socialism and give you your own place to live.
Wow! Really?
In a favela, or whatever they call the slums there, but it would be cosy, no worse than the others there have, and you should not have the bourgeois expectation of more. He winked at Steve to indicate he was being ironic and understood both he and Steve fully expected more. A lot more. After all, Darion was a securities expert for a specialist financial software company and Steve was a qualified accountant for that company. The tailored suits, fine cotton shirts and silk ties they both wore made it clear they were a cut above the likes of Richard, who nevertheless was also reasonably well dressed in a dark suit and silk tie. His were not quite so designer, though.
Better than topping yourself, anyway, said Steve.
Anythings better than that. Imagine his family! said Darion.
Last time I saw him, he seemed quite happy, said Richard. He came over to Helsinki.
There you go! Darion asserted, case proven. He was swanning around all over the place pretending to be a manager and getting paid for it. What the hell did he have to go and top himself for!?
Everyone shook their heads disapprovingly and smiled a little. Darion was always joking but, whatever his troubles, at least Mitchell did seem to have had a pretty cushy, well-paid job. In the short time theyd known him, hed acquired the nickname of The Invisible Man because hardly anyone ever saw him. It seemed he just travelled from place to place, doing very little except occasionally chatting to his subordinates. In the end, none of them were able to sympathise with what hed done. They all considered it to be a selfish and unnecessary act.
Christ! said Darion, suddenly serious.
What? asked Steve.
Dont you remember? Andy thought he was psychic. I wonder what shit he saw in our future. Darion drifted off, leaving the others wondering if he was still joking or not. Steve just shrugged and wandered off too.
But Richard was slightly disturbed by this. He remembered Andy mentioning this in Helsinki. And now he remembered that Mitchell thought that he, Richard, was also psychic.
And suddenly it slithered into view. The thing that he had been trying to remember.
Mitchell had actually said, When the stranger returns you must wake up. He could practically see and hear him saying it. Yet it was not Mitchell and it was not Richard. It was a kind of film of them talking together. They were just actors playing roles in a film. It could not have been anything real because, no matter how drunk hed been, he wouldve recognised that phrase immediately. Unless, through drunkenness, Mitchell hadnt said it properly.
There was one more reason why it couldnt be true: if Mitchell was his contact, and he was now dead, the last hope of the plan hed been waiting for had already disappeared.
7. Advance To Mayfair
There was one more reason why it couldnt be true: if Mitchell was his contact, and he was now dead, the last hope of the plan hed been waiting for had already disappeared.
7. Advance To Mayfair
The meeting was taking place in a building in Mayfair belonging to Her Majestys Government of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Those present were Mark Osbourne, Jim Callan, Dr Joseph Skinner, Jack Logan, Graham Wood and Tom Brookes, all of whom had arrived almost simultaneously with great urgency and seated themselves around a tatty government-issue table. Last to arrive was Mark Osbourne, who took his place at the head of the table and began talking immediately.
OK gentlemen, thanks for coming, sorry about the short notice. I guess you all know why by now. Anyone not heard the news?
Everyone shook their heads except Tom Brookes, who looked round the table in alarm. What was going on that he wasnt aware of?
What news? Brookes blurted out.
Mitchell just killed himself.
What?
So we need to know why and clear up any loose ends he left lying around. He was handling several cases at the time of death, most of which are ticking along smoothly, I believe. The only item that gives me cause for concern is the work he was doing on Winter.
Osbourne paused for a moment as though expecting someone to contradict him. He looked down at his laptop and continued:
So, lets talk about the suicide first. Any ideas?
There was stony-faced silence.
He left a note. I doubt if it means anything though. It seems utterly confused, quite frankly. Osbourne passed photocopies of the note around the table.
Callan read aloud: I occupy this crevasse the realm of nothingness which lies coiled in the heart of being like a worm, but existentialism is a false dichotomy, and therefore metaphysical hope is impossible. I have seen through the illusion. I know what its like to be dead. I already know. When I walked into the room to see him I was dead then. He didnt notice but I knew.
Anyway, as JFK said, Dont sing me no la la la tune no more I aint gonna listen to that shit again. By JFK I mean Jo Fucking King but, my dear reader, no I aint joking.
Inside my mind I have seen into the soul of the universe and it is filled with A MILLION maggots of death. They breed. They are the EVIL in everything. THE e-vile.
Now I just want to go there and be inside it. It will be me. I will be it. We will reign forever.
Ill stand on the mountain that stands on me and I will see everything.
Callan had finished reading, but everyone continued to stare at their personal copy of the note as though they still expected to find some meaning in it.
Logan was the first to speak: Christ! Mitchell wrote that? Are you sure? I mean he was lost for words. I said cheerio to him Friday, going out the office. He said cheerio back. He was the same old Andy Mitchell Id known for
Dr Skinner interrupted: Some of that might not be complete gibberish; hes quoting Sartre I think and John Lennon. We should trace the quotes and see
Callan interrupted Skinners interruption: Thats a fools errand well never get to the bottom of any meaning that might be found in a synthesis of Sartre and Tomorrow Never Knows. Was he on drugs or something?
Osbourne replied: Actually, yes. That seems to be it. We found significant traces of ChiroButyline-A in his blood. Its a tranquilliser that was banned worldwide about six months ago because people who took it for any length of time tended to commit suicide.
Why would he be taking it then? How could he even get hold of it? Callan asked.
Both questions we dont know yet. Second question maybe he had been prescribed it some time ago but had decided not to take it, then for some reason had started taking it recently.
I see. So it could have sat in his bathroom cupboard for years?
This is all speculation, but something like that is likely. However, if he had required medical help for any reason, he should have informed us. Needless to say, he didnt.
Should have, yes. But of course it would be like waving goodbye to his career.
But such cases are handled delicately to ensure people do volunteer this sort of information. We all know the rules.
Of course we do, yes, Callan agreed.
Hopefully, none here would hesitate to inform us if they required this sort of help. Osbourne looked around defiantly and received a murmur of affirmation before continuing. So we have to be aware that perhaps there is some sort of foul play involved.
It took several uncomfortable seconds of grim silence for this information to be digested.
If so, everything he was working on might be in jeopardy, Callan remarked.
Yes, it might be, Osbourne agreed. Bear that in mind when taking over his ongoing cases.
This ruffled a few feathers. Jack Logan, in particular, looked agitated or even annoyed. He had apparently guessed what was coming next.
On that note, Osbourne continued, Graham, Tom, Im dividing the majority of Mitchells cases between you except Winter. Jack, youll take over from Mitchell. It has to be you because of the aversion treatment. Youre the only spare resource. Put in an appearance at VirtuBank but keep a low profile.
Dr Skinner broke in to say: But Osbourne, Mitchells work there was finished. Theres nothing left to do.
We just want to keep an eye on things.
But how about Callan? Surely he can
Can we just back up a bit? Callan interrupted. I have a question. How did he kill himself? Is it possible that someone killed him?
He threw himself under a train, Jim, Osbourne replied.
Possible then its one of our favoured methods.
The platform looks virtually empty at the time, according to the CCTV. Of course CCTV too can be tampered with in various ways, as we know.
How many cases was he handling? Was he overworked?
No, definitely not. If anything, his workload was lighter than normal.
Also, we all get tested for drugs once a month. He couldnt have been taking this drug for very long, Callan suggested.
Osbourne contradicted him bluntly: We dont get tested for this stuff. Its banned and its never been on the list.
So why did they test for it in the autopsy?
A jar of the stuff was found amongst the mess that the train left.
OK. But lets not jump to conclusions. I presume were going to go ahead with a thorough investigation. Check for debts, mistresses, all the usual?
Of course, Osbourne said with finality. He looked down at his laptop again to make it clear the discussion on this matter was closed and he wanted to move on. There was another period of gloomy silence in the room as he did so.
So what went wrong in Helsinki? Osbourne was looking at Dr Skinner.
I dont know. Everything went more or less to plan. Mitchell gave him the key and verbal instructions.
But is Winter up and running? Is anything happening? We dont know. We havent heard anything yet.
So probably nothing is happening. Any idea why?
Dr Skinner glanced nervously at the expectant faces around the table.
I, I mean Mitchell followed the procedure to switch phases. He got a signature and he followed the procedure to flip him back.