Gridiron

'That's not true,' said Marty. He waved at Jenny. 'Y'know? The Chinese thing?'

Helen pretended to read the magazine. 'Pisces,' she said. 'Pretty soon someone is going to tell you to butt out when you stick your oar in where it's not wanted.' She dropped the magazine. 'How about that, Marty?'

'Nonsense.'

'Butt out,' laughed Jenny.

' Feng shui,' said Birnbaum. 'That's it.'

Helen grinned back at her and then said, 'Jenny, I don't mind admitting to you that I'm now a convert to feng shui. I don't think any of this would have happened if we'd got the feng shui for the building right in the first place.'

'Thank you,' smiled Jenny.

'How do you work that out?' asked Birnbaum.

'Where would you like me to start?' said Jenny.

Now that Mitch was out of the room Jenny felt she could at last allow herself the satisfaction of reminding them that she had predicted problems for the Gridiron from the very beginning.

'There was that problem with the tree. The tree is in a square pond which means confinement and trouble. And now we've got confinement and trouble in spades. It's like I said.'

'Bullshit.'

'Oh, there's plenty more I could tell you. But what would be the point?

The bottom line is that the building is unlucky. I don't think even you could deny that, Marty.'

'Luck? What's that? I've never trusted to chance. Success depends on hard work and careful planning, not a bird's entrails.' He laughed. 'Or dragon's breath.'

'It's symbolic,' shrugged Jenny. 'You're an educated man. You ought to be able to understand that. To believe in the dragon's breath does not necessitate a belief in dragons. But there are all sorts of forces in the ground that we still know nothing about.'

'Jenny, honey, you're straight out of Stephen King, you know that?'

Birnbaum closed his eyes and looked vaguely dyspeptic.

Helen frowned. 'How much have you had to drink, Marty?' she asked.

'What's that got to do with anything? You're the one who's talking bullshit, not me. And why don't you put your shirt back on? You're making an exhibition of yourself.'

Curtis, who had been lying on the sofa listening to this conversation, stood up and stretched stiffly.

'You're the one who's making an exhibition of himself, Marty,' he said.

'Why don't you go next door with the other two and get yourself something to eat. Try and soak up some of that booze.'

'What's it got to do with you?'

'Only that when we go down that service ladder a drunk will be a liability.'

'Who's drunk?'

'Keep it down, will you?' snarled Beech. 'I'm trying to concentrate here.'

'Why don't you take a break?' said Jenny. 'You've been staring at that thing for hours.'

Beech's eyes never left the screen. 'I can't,' he said. 'Not now. The fact is, I think I've found a way that I can play this fucking game. Or one part of it, at least.'

'What's that?' said Curtis.

'I've managed to access the ChessMaster. If I win I can stop him automatically destroying the building around our ears.'

'You're going to play the computer at chess?'

'Have you got a better idea? Maybe I can beat it."

'Is there any chance of that?'

'For the humanplayer there's always a chance,' declared Ishmael.

'I played Abraham a few times without much success,' explained Beech. 'That particular program was based on the best computer program in the world. I'm not sure if Ishmael is using the same one or not.' Beech shrugged. 'But at least we're in the game, y'know? I'm not a totally shitty player. It's worth a try.'

Curtis pulled a face and then knelt down beside Willis Ellery, who was raising himself on one elbow.

'How are you feeling?'

'Like I was hit by a truck. How long have I — '

'Quite a few hours. You're lucky to be alive, my friend, really you are.'

Ellery looked at his burned hands and nodded.

'I guess I am. Jesus, it's hot in here. Your friend, Nat. Did he get out?'

'He's dead. So's Arnon.'

'David?' Ellery shook his head and sighed heavily. 'Could I have a drink of water, please?'

Curtis fetched a glass and helped him to drink.

'You just lie there and take it easy,' he told Ellery. 'Mitch has got a plan to get us all out of here.'

-###-

Nine lives left, Humanplayer using up lives more quickly than expected. Game over in short time. Humanplayer about to lose another life in riser shaft. Then there was false floor in boardroom. Shorting cable in shaft had given idea. But life in riser shaft proving elusive. Destroy it before moving on to rest. Rules are rules.

*)The ChessMaster decides who lives and who dies.

From top of open riser shaft view slowly bending live wire and humanplayer's progress down service ladder. Human-player through tenth level passing telecommunications closet test jack frame. Another five minutes life will be at bottom of ladder and out. Consider control parameters that might slow him down, until live wire makes contact with service ladder and endlife.

-###-

Mitch gave such a start of surprise as the telephone mounted on the wall immediately in front of his face started to ring that he almost lost his footing. He stopped and glanced up the riser shaft. Had Curtis found a way to work the phones? Or was this some trick of Ishmael's? Before lifting the handset he inspected it from all sides. It was made of plastic, which seemed to eliminate the possibility of electrocution, but after what had happened to Willis Ellery, Mitch was not about to take any unnecessary chances.

The phone rang once again, it seemed with greater urgency.

Plastic. Where was the harm? Perhaps it was Jenny. Perhaps they were trying to warn him of new danger. They had assumed that the service phones were not working, but what if they were still in action?

What if they were part of a separate switching system?

Gingerly, Mitch picked up the handset and, holding it away from his ear, almost as if he expected a sharp object to spring out of it, he answered:

'Yes?'

'Mitch?'

'Who is this?'

'Thank God. It's me. Allen Grabel. Boy, am I glad to hear your voice.'

'Allen? Where are you? I thought you'd escaped.'

'Damn nearly did, Mitch. Just missed the cut by a few minutes. Look, you've got to help me. I'm trapped in the basement, in one of the locker rooms. The computer has gone nuts and locked all the fucking doors. I'm dying of thirst in here.'

'How did you know I was in the riser shaft?'

'I didn't. I've been calling these phones for the last twenty-four hours. They're the only ones that are working. You know, I'd almost given up hope that someone would answer. I thought I was going to be stuck here for the whole weekend. You don't know how good it is to hear your voice. What are you doing in there, anyway?'

The voice sounded exactly like Allen Grabel's. But Mitch was still suspicious.

'We're all stuck, Allen. The computer has gone nuts. And quite a few people have been killed.'

'What? You're kidding. Jesus.'

'For a while back there, well, I'm afraid we all thought you were responsible,' Mitch admitted.

'Me? Why the hell did you think that?'

'Is it any wonder? After what you said, about screwing Richardson and his building?'

'I must have been pretty tanked, huh?'

'You were.'

'Well, I've had time to dry out now.'

'It's good to hear you again, Allen.' Mitch paused. 'If it really is you, that is.'

'What the hell are you talking about? Of course it's me. Who the hell else would it be? Mitch, is something wrong?'

'I'm just being careful. The computer is behaving kind of sneakily. Can you tell me your date of birth?'