Curtis selected one of the screwdrivers.
'Where in hell did you find that lot?' Curtis asked, impressed with her resourcefulness.
'You'd be surprised what builders leave lying around a new building,' she said. 'There was a whole bag of tools in the ladies' washroom, of all places.'
'Yeah, well, you'd better keep out of the washrooms from now on," said Curtis, raising his voice. 'All of you. Abraham just killed Levine in the men's room. And now Nat's stuck in there.'
'My God.'
'Do you have a monkey wrench there, Helen?' asked Ellery.
She had never liked Tony Levine. Always trying to come on to her. He was worse than Warren Aikman. But she was sorry he was dead. With a shock she realized she had already lost count of the number of people who had died in the Gridiron since the late afternoon.
'I don't know,' she said vaguely, and held up something she thought might fit the description.
'Even better,' said Ellery excitedly. That's a Stillson.'
When the water started to pour into the washroom Coleman was almost relieved, for it was neither hot nor did it seem to contain ammonia. But with each minute that passed the level began to increase. By the time Curtis was back on the other side of the door, it was several inches deep. Coleman might have tried to stop the flow except that the water was pouring into the washroom from every conceivable entry point: from high-pressure sprinklers on the ceiling, from the faucets on the sink, even from the cisterns behind the toilets. The idea that Abraham intended that he should drown was beginning to seep slowly through the policeman's imagination.
'Got a fuckin' leak in here, Frank,' he yelled. 'Place is filling up with water. No ammonia. Maybe Abraham changed his mind about the cleansing program after I hit his voice box.'
This gave Coleman an idea. Once again he drew his gun.
'Hey, Frank,' he yelled. 'Stand away from the door. I'm going to try and blast a few holes in the door. I reckon I'm going to need some help with the drainage in here before very long. Frank?'
'Ah, that's a negative, Nat,' shouted Curtis. 'I've just been told that the door's made of steel. You'd need a fifty calibre BMG to get through this. Just try and take it easy. We've got something going here. A way of disconnecting the whole bathroom module from the mains supply of water.'
'OK, Frank, Whatever you say. But don't leave it too long. I never did like any of those submarine pictures.'
Coleman holstered his gun and, with the water nearly up to his knees, sat down on the toilet again.
Bending forwards he scooped some of the water into his hands and drank it.
'I guess I won't die of thirst anyway.'
Curtis released the last of the self-tapping screws and let the panel fall off the wall and on to the floor. In the recessed space were a large red elbow-shaped pipe, a smaller branch pipe connecting the washroom, a couple of ceramic disc valves and, inside a mineral insulated square box, the electrical trunking that controlled the operation of the washroom. Willis Ellery pointed to a joint on the branch pipe and said, 'I think all we have to do to turn off the mains water is tighten this.'
'Hold on a second,' said Curtis. 'Is this pipe going to be safe to touch?
What about all that electrical stuff in there? Suppose Abraham's got the pipe wired to the fucking mains electricity?'
'He's got a point, Will,' said Mitch, already keying the code number that was printed on the box cover on to his laptop. 'WSPC 21. The wiring diagram might even show us how to open the door.'
The pull-down menu on the screen asked which version of the wiring instructions he required, Quick or Technical. Mitch chose Quick and watched as the Intergraph programme sketched out a line for each cable instead of a line for every wire.
Willis Ellery leaned across his shoulder and studied the diagram for a minute or two.
'None of the pipes is connected to the electricity supply,' he said at last. Then, beating the palm of his hand with the Stillson pipe wrench, he added, 'Well, here goes,' and prepared to try and close off the water. Adjusting the serrated jaws of the Stillson to fit the joint around the branch pipe, he began to tighten the screw.
'Seems safe enough so far.'
Mitch was reading the wiring diagram. Curtis was looking over his shoulder.
'What is that thing?'
'Washroom Patching Services Cabinet Number 21,' said Mitch. 'Cables for each type of building service. This one's illumination. Downlight and uplighting. This one's HVAC. This one's IT- basic telecommunications requirement and low speed data. It looks as if the door is handled by the HVAC cable. You see? The tray in the ceiling above the door and these two vertical poles either side. If we uncouple this one then the door ought to open.'
'Kind of stiff,' grunted Ellery and, releasing the wrench for a moment, spat on his hands. 'God, I hope this works.'
'What's this cable here?' Mitch asked himself. 'FSS. ESS. What's that?
This one goes to the wall surrounding that branch pipe.'
He flicked the cursor arrow to the top of the screen and pulled down the Glossary.
'Fire Stop Sleeve. Earthquake Stop Sleeve.'
Mitch frowned. 'I guess if this pipe moves within the sleeve then it makes… Willis, no!'
Willis Ellery never heard Mitch.
As he pushed the Stillson wrench against the joint, the smart pipe shifted within the specially designed stop sleeve, making contact with the piezoelectric metal actuator that warned Abraham to stiffen the exterior perimeter's steel frame against seismic shock.
Willis Ellery let out a scream that was a mixture of pain and surprise. Like any human body he made an excellent conductor of electricity, producing as good a reaction as any electrolyte solution. It was not a particularly high current that electrocuted him, just the standard current alternating at sixty cycles per second. But Ellery's hands had been damp with spit and sweat, and when the power hit him it was impossible for him to release his grip on the Stillson and break the passage of the current. It was as if the electricity that gripped him did so with the serrated strength of the Stillson itself. The Stillson gripped the joint; and electricity gripped the Stillson; and Willis Ellery could do nothing but stand there and hold on, shaking up and down, screaming like an hysterical child.
Seeing Mitch reach for Ellery's arm, Curtis struck him aside with a blow of his fist.
'Don't touch him!' he yelled. 'You'll be electrocuted too.'
Ellery uttered a feeble cry as he tried desperately to release his grip on the wrench. 'Ple-e-ease!' he screamed. 'He-elp me-eee!'
'We have to find something non-conductive to pull him off,' shouted Curtis. 'A brush handle, or a length of rope. Hurry!'
He ran back to the kitchen and surveyed the area. There was nothing that looked as if it might not conduct the electricity from Ellery's body into the hands of his rescuers. Then he had an idea. The kitchen table. Sweeping everything off the wooden surface on to the floor he yelled to Mitch, 'Here, we'll use this.'
'Well, thanks a lot,' protested Marty Birnbaum. 'I just sorted out our supplies on that.'
Ignoring him, Curtis and Mitch picked up the table and carried it into the corridor where Ellery was still in the grip of the electrified wrench and now only just conscious of what was happening. There was a strong smell of burning in the air. Like singed hair in a barber's shop. Curtis flung the table over on to its side.