The Camera Man Page 8

  “I believe you.”

  “And then there are the elevators,” he continues, stepping past me and banging his fist against the metal doors a little further along the wall, “but there's no power to them, so again, nobody's going up and down. That avenue is closed.”

  “Are you sure these are the only ways to reach the upper levels?”

  “Do you think I'm an idiot?”

  “No, of course not!” I hesitate for a moment, but I still can't quite believe that the situation has been resolved so quickly and clearly. “Isn't there a fire escape or something? Some other way up?”

  “The stairs are the fire escape,” he explains. “Old building, remember? It was mothballed before it was due to be brought up to code. So there you have it, there's no way anyone could get upstairs, so there's no way anyone is upstairs. Or do you think there's a ghost up there, slipping through walls and locked doors?”

  “No,” I reply, taking a deep breath as I realize that the figure I saw must have been a hallucination after all. “No, I don't believe in ghosts.”

  “That's good, lady,” he continues, “because I was starting to worry I'd have to spend the whole night explaining this stuff to you over and over again.” He checks his watch. “It's almost time for me to take another tour, and I'd really like to finish my cigarette break first, so if you don't mind I think maybe you should go home and try to calm down a little. I get it, you were spooked, but I hope I've put your mind at rest.”

  “Of course.”

  I let him lead me back across the foyer, and for a moment the only sound comes from our steps as they echo in the large, empty space. I'm starting to feel as if this whole situation is crazy, as if I've overreacted massively, but I guess I had to at least check. I'm sure this Julio guy thinks I'm some kind of complete fruitcake, but I guess that doesn't matter too much. I mean, it's not like he knows me very well, and one of my self-help tapes told me to stop worrying about what random strangers think.

  “I'm so sorry for disturbing you,” I say finally. “I feel like a complete idiot.”

  “Hey, don't worry about it.”

  “I'm not crazy,” I continue, “I just -”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize I can hear distant footsteps. Julio stops next to me, but the footsteps continue, and when I look up at the low ceiling I realize that the steps seem to be coming from higher up in the building. The sound continues for a few more seconds, before stopping just after a very faint, very distant bump.

  “What was that?” I ask, turning to Julio and seeing the concern in his eyes as he looks at the ceiling. “You heard it, didn't you?”

  “That's not possible,” he mutters, hurrying back over to the double doors and pulling the chain again, as if he's worried that somehow it might be loose. “There's no way anyone's in this building!”

  “I heard footsteps,” I point out, and now my heart is pounding. “You heard them too, right? You must have!”

  He mumbles something under his breath, but I can't quite make out any of the words. A moment later he hurries to the elevator, but again the doors are secure, even when he gives them a gentle shove. Still, I can tell that he's worried.

  “I heard footsteps!” I say again. “There has to be -”

  “Can you just be quiet for one moment?” he snaps, turning and looking up once more toward the ceiling. He seems utterly panicked now, and I watch as he slowly makes his way past me, as if he's listening to something that I can't hear and tracking a noise as it moves through the building. As far as I can tell, the only sound now is the occasional squeak of his shoes against the floor, but finally he stops near the chained double door, almost as if he's narrowed some distant sound to a particular spot.

  I wait.

  Silence.

  “Gotcha!” he says suddenly, hurrying to the double door and fumbling to get the padlock open.

  As soon as that's done, he pulls the chain loose and lets it clatter to the floor, while pushing the door open and hurrying into the stairwell.

  Figuring that I need to see whatever he finds, I rush after him and we start racing up the stairs. Taking two and sometimes even three steps at a time, we quickly reach the next floor up, where Julio stops for a moment and raises a hand, indicating that he wants me to be quiet.

  “Oh, I do not like this!” he mutters finally, through gritted teeth. “I take this as a personal insult!”

  “Maybe we should call the police,” I suggest, my heart pounding as I listen for any hint that the other set of footsteps has returned. “Isn't that the best idea? Then they can come and check the place out and deal with anyone who's broken in?”

  “I need you to go downstairs and leave the building,” he tells me.

  “No way.”

  He takes a baton from his belt.

  “That is not a request, M'am,” he says firmly. “I need you to leave the building. I can't deal with this threat if I'm having to keep an eye on you the whole time.”

  “But -”

  “This isn't some movie where you get to play the hero,” he continues. “I am telling you now that I need you to leave, and I need you to keep to a safe distance. I'm dealing with an intruder here and -”

  “An intruder who's been following me!” I point out. “And filming me!”

  “If you don't leave the building right now,” he replies, “I will be forced to escort you out. While I'm doing that, the intruder might well get away. Is that what you want?”

  “No, but -”

  “Then do as you're told!”

  I open my mouth to argue with him, but at the last moment I realize that maybe he's got a point. It's not like I can rugby tackle the guy with the camera if I see him, and I guess the most important thing is that he's caught.

  “Fine,” I mutter, taking a step back, “but you have to get him!”

  “I will, if you leave right now!”

  “I'll be outside,” I stammer. “I'll call the police!”

  With that, I turn and hurry back down the stairs, trying not to panic even as I hear Julio making his way further up into the higher levels of the building. By the time I reach the foyer I'm shaking, but I know that I have to stay calm so I head outside and stop to look back up at the office block's windows. I know the guy with the camera is in there somewhere, but I guess I just have to trust Julio. Besides, if Julio does lose him, then I'll be right here to stop the intruder as he tries to escape.

  Slipping my phone from my pocket, I dial 999 and wait to speak to the police.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A siren seems to be getting closer for a moment, and I even see a faint blue light in the distance, but after a moment it begins to recede again and I realize that there's still no sign of the patrol car that was supposed to arrive soon.

  It's a little after 4am and I've been waiting outside for half an hour now. I haven't seen a single other soul, and even Julio hasn't emerged.

  He'll be fine.

  He knows what he's doing.

  At the same time, I'm starting to think that maybe I should have insisted on staying inside. I mean, that's what most people would have done. Chrissie certainly would have stayed, and she'd have stormed past Julio on her way up to the higher levels of the building. By now, she'd probably have dragged the intruder out by the collar and forced him to tell the truth about whatever he was doing. She wouldn't have taken no for an answer.

  Then again, I'm not Chrissie.

  I've always been way more timid.

  I've always done what I'm told.

  So that's why I'm still standing out here, shivering slightly in the cold night air, waiting for either Julio or the police to come and make everything better. Good old timid Jess, doing what she always does.

  Shrinking back from everything.

  Hearing another siren, I turn and see that once again there's a flashing blue light passing along a nearby road. I make my way toward the far end of the building, hoping that this time the police are going to show up, but once again the light
speeds away. To be fair, the woman on the phone didn't sound entirely convinced that my situation was an emergency, and I guess there's a lot going on in London, even at 4am on a weekday morning.

  If Julio doesn't come out within the next half hour, I'm going to go back into the office building and find him.

  ***

  The chain is still on the floor, the double door is still wide open, and the stairwell is still empty and quiet. As I step through and look up to the next level, I listen for any hint of movement elsewhere in the building, but there's nothing. It's almost as if Julio, like Chrissie the other day, has vanished after going after the man with the camera.

  I open my mouth to call out, but I manage to stop myself just in time.

  After all, if Julio's fine, he'll be angry at me for ignoring his instructions. And if he's not fine, I'll be drawing attention to myself.

  I should leave.

  I should go back outside and wait, but at the same time it's been an hour now and I'm starting to get worried. What if Julio's hurt? What if he needs me?

  There's a surveillance camera above me, but it's hanging loose from the wall and the wires are all torn. I guess it's not working.

  Making my way cautiously up the stairs, I figure that I can at least take a quick look around. At the first sign of movement anywhere nearby, I'll retreat and go back outside, but I don't think I can just stand around in the cold like an idiot, not for another hour. As I reach the next floor, I tell myself that I have to be absolutely careful, and that I'm not going to take any risks. I'm going to be safe. I'm going to be smart. I'm going to make good choices.

  “Julio!” I whisper, keeping my voice low as I peer through a doorway and see an empty corridor.

  Wait, maybe I shouldn't be calling his name like that.

  After all, the other guy might hear me.

  The intruder.

  I hesitate for a moment, before stepping through the doorway and making my way along the corridor. At the far end I find the entrance to a large, open-plan office area, and to my surprise all the desks have been left in place, along with the chairs. Everything else has been taken away, though, and it's pretty clear that nobody has been here for a long time. Still, I make my way between the desks, heading over to the far windows so that I can peer out and make sure that there's no sign of anyone outside the building.

  The glass is a little dirty, so I have to give it a wipe, but after a moment I see that there's nobody out there. In fact, right now I could almost believe that there's nobody out there anywhere, not in the whole world. I can't see a single living soul, and the only hint of anyone in the distance is a very faint glow on the horizon. The lights of the city are still on, so I guess the world hasn't come to an end.

  Turning, I take a step back the way I came.

  And then I freeze.

  There's a man at the far end of the office, about twenty feet away, aiming a camera at me. The camera is obscuring his face, but from his stance and his long coat and just the fact that he's here at all, I immediately know that it's him.

  I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.

  He's not scared.

  He's not hiding.

  He doesn't seem to care that I can see him. Apart from the fact that the camera is covering his face, he's standing in full view, although he seems very still, almost as if he's a statue.

  In fact, the more I stare at him, the more I find myself wondering whether he's just a figment of my imagination. Am I so crazy that I could hallucinate someone close-up like this?

  At least he's not blocking the way out. I'm closer to the door than he is, and he seems to have chosen to stand in the farthest corner. In theory, I should be able to step out of the room and run, but I don't know whether he's alone or whether he's got friends waiting outside.

  I take a step toward the door, keeping my back to the wall, but I know I can't just leave.

  I have to know who he is, and why he's suddenly started following me.

  “What do you want?” I ask finally.

  I wait, but he doesn't respond. He doesn't even react in any way.

  I take another step, while peering at the man and trying to make out some of his features. He has dark hair, and he doesn't seem particularly old. Maybe thirties, or early forties at most. The camera looks like one of those older camcorder models from the 90's, from the days when people had to actually buy cameras rather than using their phones for everything. As I try to decide whether or not I should simply run, I realize I can even hear the camera whirring slightly.

  “What do you want?” I ask again. “Why are you following me? Why are you filming me all the time?”

  Again I wait.

  Again, he doesn't even seem to have heard me.

  “I've told the police about you,” I continue. “I found your -”

  I freeze as I remember the hidden camera I found in the shower. Suddenly the thought of this creep having seen me naked makes me want to scream, but I force myself to simply keep edging toward the door. I have to get out of here, and maybe I can put the chains back in place on the double door downstairs, locking this camera-wielding asshole inside the building until the police arrive.

  “Do you know where my friend is?” I ask as I finally reach the door. The man still hasn't responded, although I think he's turned slightly so that the camera remains focused on me. “She came to tell you to stop filming. Did you do something to her?”

  Again, no response.

  “Who are you?” I shout, suddenly unable to keep my anger hidden. “What's wrong with you? Seriously, are you just some kind of pervert?”

  This time, when he doesn't respond, I instinctively take several steps toward him. For a moment, I want to grab that camera and rip it from his hands, and then maybe give him a bloodied nose, but I stop next to one of the desks as I realize that nothing I do, nothing I say, seems able to shake this creep from what seems like an almost catatonic state. Hell, if he wasn't standing up, I could almost believe he's in a coma.

  “Okay, screw this,” I say finally, turning and hurrying out the door. “I'm going to get the police here. They'll take care of you.”

  As I reach the top of the stairs, however, I spot movement nearby and I turn to see that the creep has followed me out of the office. He's still holding back a little, and in fact he seems to be staying as far back as possible while still keeping me in view.

  “You realize this is insane, right?” I continue, trying to keep from panicking. “You have to realize that what you're doing is creepy as hell. You can't just...”

  My voice trails off.

  Why am I trying to reason with this guy?

  I hesitate for a moment, before realizing that there's really only one thing left for me to do.

  So I run.

  Racing down the stairs as fast as I can manage, I quickly hear the man running after me, but I don't dare look back. Instead I keep going, clattering to the bottom of the stairwell and out through the double doors, which I then swing shut just as the man with the camera comes into view.

  Grabbing the chain from the floor, I slip it through the door handles and pull it tight, and then I fumble with the padlock until I've managed to get it closed.

  I take a step back.

  A moment later, the man tries to open the door from the other side, but the chain keeps it shut. He tries again, then again, but still with no luck. It doesn't sound as if he's panicking on the other side of the door; instead, he just seems confused as he tries again and again to come through after me.

  “You're trapped, asshole!” I yell, taking a step back. “The cops are gonna be here any moment and then you'll have to explain exactly what the hell you think you're doing!”

  He tries once again to open the door, but the chain holds tight and simply rattles slightly.

  “You goddamn freak!” I shout, with tears in my eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why the hell have you been following me and following me for days? Why have you been filming m
e and -”

  Suddenly I stop as I realize that he's no longer trying to push the door open. I hesitate, before stepping a little closer and listening.

  Silence.

  I don't hear him on the other side. I don't hear him going up the stairs, either, but I definitely don't hear him trying to get the door open. I don't hear him breathing, either, and I don't hear the whirring of the camera.

  It's as if he's gone.

  It's as if he simply disappeared. Either that, or maybe he finally turned that goddamn camera off for a moment.

  I wait, as a tear runs down my face, but now the entire building seems to have fallen silent.

  “Come on!” I mutter, grabbing my phone and hurrying back across the foyer. Once I'm outside I try to dial 999, but this time my phone seems to be jammed.

  I try again, but something's keeping me from getting signal.

  Of all the times...

  Since the police still don't seem to have shown up, I figure I need to get back into my building and find a phone I can use. Hurrying over toward the main door, I'm about to go inside when I feel a sudden, very definite sense that I'm being watched again.

  I glance over my shoulder, and to my horror I see that the man with the camera is now just ten feet behind me, still filming my every move.

  “How the hell did you get out of there?” I stammer, feeling a shudder pass through my chest as I realize that somehow he managed to either break the chain or locate another exit from the stairwell. “How do you keep showing up? Are you seriously so deranged that you think you can just follow a complete stranger around like this?”

  I wait for a reply, but of course he doesn't respond at all.

  “Screw this!” I hiss, turning and marching straight through the front door, heading into my building. Before I can reach the elevators, however, I realize that leading this guy to my apartment might not be a good idea, even if he most likely knows where I live anyway.

  Looking back, I see that he's coming this way, and a moment later he steps through the door and into the hallway.

  Hurrying around the corner, I make for the rear entrance and push the door open. Once I'm outside, I hurry past the garbage bins and then I duck down, hiding behind one of the trolleys. From here, I can just about make out the door, and I peer through just in time to see the guy stepping out of the building with the camera still held up to his face.