Free The case of the missing books by Ian Sansom Page A

you.'
    Israel made his way over to the stairs and as he began to walk slowly up the winding concrete stairwell something suddenly whipped past his leg.
    'Aaggh!' screamed Israel. 'A…rat!'
    'Mouse,' corrected Ted.
    'Ah!' said Israel. 'But it was huge.'
    'Ach, wise up, man, will ye?' said Ted.
    The stairs twisted round and round. At the top was another steel door.
    'I forgot about that,' said Ted. 'Hold the torch,' which Israel did, while Ted went through the ritual of trying every key until eventually the right key caught and turned, and the door swung open and they entered the library proper.
    They were under a staircase standing in the library's main entrance area.
    There was natural winter light flooding in from the vast windows set high all around. There were architraves and cornices. There were complex tiled floor patterns. There was mahogany. Even under the dust and layers of paint and the scuffs you could tell the place was beautiful, that it had ambitions, and desires, and generosity, and woodworm: it was a building that breathed public service.
    Ah, yes. At last. This was more like it. This was why Israel had come. This was where he belonged.
    There were two large rooms off the main lobby area, one to the left and one to the right of the central sweeping staircase.
    'Where does that go?' asked Israel, pointing to the top of the stairway.
    'Nowhere,' said Ted.
    'What d'you mean, nowhere?'
    'Nowhere, as in nowhere. You understand the meaning of nowhere?'
    'Increasingly I do, yes. But it must go somewhere.'
    'I just said, it goes nowhere. It's a false staircase,' explained Ted. 'They say they ran out of money when they were building. It was that fella.'
    'Who?'
    'The architect. Whatyemacallhim?'
    'I don't know.'
    'The famous fella.'
    'No. Sorry.'
    'More.'
    'More?'
    'O'Ferral. Him. Ach. Anyway. The two storeys at the front are just a…what do you call it?'
    'I don't know,' said Israel.
    'A fac…?'
    'A what?' said Israel.
    'A fec…?'
    'A what?'
    'Fackard?'
    'A fackard?'
    'Aye.'
    'A façade?'
    'That's what I said. There's no upstairs. Just windows.'
    'Blimey,' said Israel. 'Can I?'
    'Aye,' said Ted. 'If you've nothing better to do.'
    Israel trotted up to the top of the stairs, which branched and which looked as though they led to upper rooms, but sure enough, as he turned left, he suddenly found himself facing a wall. Turning round, he looked opposite. Another wall.
    'That's weird,' said Israel, prodding his glasses, coming back down.
    'Things aren't always what they seem,' agreed Ted philosophically.
    Israel then went quickly through to the room to the left: the plastic laminate sign over the doorway read FICTION AND NON-FICTION.
    The room was painted in several non-matching shades of white. There was a drab, stained grey carpet and big fluorescent lights hanging down on huge chains, looking like instruments of torture. The filthy windows, with their blinds high up, had knotted grey cords and strings hanging down, looking like a set of gallows. Wires were haphazardly cable-clipped to the walls; there were cracks and holes; and brackets hung down everywhere like gibbets with nothing gibbeted to them. And all around were the shadows where once the books and shelves had been, looking like the bars of a prison.
    Oh yes, this felt good. This felt much more like home.
    Israel went back through the lobby into the right-hand room, which was identical–the same dirty white emptiness–except for a long grey veneered built-in issues desk running along one wall.
    Ted seemed to have disappeared.
    'Ted,' called Israel. 'Ted?' There was no reply. 'Ted?' he called again. 'Ted!'
    He went back into the lobby.
    Ted emerged through the doors from the basement.
    'Everything all right?' asked Ted.
    'Yes.'
    'Good,' said Ted, sounding relieved.
    'Except for one thing,' said Israel.
    'What's that?' said Ted.
    'Look around you,' said Israel. 'What do you notice?'
    'The library?'
    'Yes, but what exactly about the library?'
    'Ach. I don't