Playing With Death

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘We should go somewhere more . . . private. This way.’

  The doctor leads her down a corridor. They enter a small room with two couches facing each other either side of a low table. The doctor bids Rose to sit down before he begins.

  ‘I am sorry to have to inform you that your husband is in a coma, Mrs Blake,’ he says.

  ‘A . . . coma?’

  ‘The paramedics tried to revive him as soon as they reached the hotel room.’

  Rose can see the doctor’s lips moving but the sounds are muted.

  ‘Mrs Blake?’

  ‘A coma? How?’

  ‘There’s more than one possibility. It could have been a seizure.’

  Rose shakes her head. ‘No. He’s never had any seizure before. He’s fit and healthy. Just like his parents. Check his medical history.’

  ‘We will. As soon as we get the chance.’ He pauses. ‘Mrs Blake, I have to tell you that there were some unusual aspects to your husband’s case. The first responders said it looked like he had choked, somehow. A lack of oxygen to the brain can cause hypoxia, resulting in a coma.’

  ‘What do you mean, somehow?’

  ‘Your husband was found wearing a Skin. I don’t know what program he was running, but it might have had some part to play in the incident. Not that I am claiming that the device is dangerous, you understand?’

  Rose understands all right. He doesn’t want to risk any claim that might land him in court should WadeSoft ever get to hear of it and sue him.

  ‘Given the, uh, facts of the case, we can’t rule it out, is all I am saying. We’re going to get a brain scan done as soon as possible, but for now he’s in intensive care. All we can do is wait.’

  Rose simply stares back, her world breaking up all around and within her.

  ‘Can I . . . see him?’

  ‘Of course. Please follow me.’

  They take a short journey through some corridors before they reach the IC ward. There, in a hospital bed, Jeff lies, pale, his body hooked up to monitors and electrodes. Rose stands by his side, taking his hand in hers. She kisses him on the forehead. The life-support systems intermittently bleep.

  She notices a suited man sitting in the corner of the room. She focuses her teary eyes. It’s Chris Keller.

  ‘Senator . . . what are you doing here?’

  He rises and approaches her. ‘I can’t believe this has happened. I’m so sorry.’

  Rose feels herself melting into his arms as he embraces her. She is crying into his shoulder.

  ‘It’ll be OK. I’m sure of it. He’s a tough nut, you know that. Besides, I need him back on the campaign as soon as possible.’

  Rose nods, and Keller shifts away. ‘I’ll give you some space. Take care, Rose,’ he says, thanking the doctor as he leaves.

  ‘Doctor?’ Rose asks.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Blake?’

  ‘Can I have a look at his things? What he had with him at the hotel?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll get them brought up to you.’

  When the doctor leaves the room, she gently takes her husband’s hand and clasps it to her cheek as she cries angry, painful tears.

  ‘Why, Jeff?’

  Ten minutes later, a male nurse knocks on the door. He has Jeff’s holdall and suit carrier and a polythene bag with the cut-open remains of the Skin suit. He places them on the table.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rose says, forcing a smile.

  ‘No problem,’ he says. ‘Anything else I can get you?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No. Please go.’

  As he turns away, Rose notices the tip of his smartphone sticking out of his breast pocket; there is the dull red glow of a tiny LED, and she wonders if it is filming her and Jeff. She feels anger and rage as she recalls Diva’s words. ‘I am everywhere . . .’

  71.

  Shane Koenig pauses, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. His attention is caught by a news stream on one of his monitors. Apparently there are early reports that one of Senator Keller’s political aides has been found on the verge of death inside a Skin. Photos of the suit, presumably taken by hospital staff, flash on the screen. Shaky hand-held camera footage from a smartphone shows the man lying on his bed. An auburn woman sitting on a seat sees the camera. A smile spreads across Koenig’s new face. He recognizes Rose.

  The footage cuts to the reporter, Gabby Vance, outside a hospital. ‘That video clip was sent to me anonymously not more than half an hour ago. Jeff Blake is the husband of FBI Special Agent Rose Blake, at the heart of an ongoing investigation into two deaths associated with the new Skin technology. Early reports indicate that it is possible that Jeff Blake was found wearing the same kind of suit. This reporter, for one, is wondering if there is a link between the murders and the personal tragedy that has struck Special Agent Blake. If so, it won’t be a tragedy just for Rose Blake. Her husband is a key figure in the campaign to elect Senator Chris Keller, and the incident could also cause problems for WadeSoft, who have already put out a press statement to reassure customers that their new product is perfectly safe. In the meantime, the Stream is offline while the matter is being looked into by the company’s software engineers. This is Gabby Vance for BNC.’

  The report cuts back to the studio, where an earnest news anchor continues the story. Koenig leans back in his leather seat, absorbing the details.

  ‘The StreamPlex itself today also suffered a major crash, with some users unable to log on or off for several hours. Some even speculate it could be an attack by Republicans to sabotage Keller’s political campaign inside the StreamPlex. The latest opinion polls have swung dramatically in Keller’s favour. Time will tell, with election day only weeks away.’

  After a brief commercial break the report continues. ‘WadeSoft has issued a fresh statement: “There appears to be no fault in the suit itself, rather the victim suffered an intense neurological reaction, most likely a seizure. The product does come with clear warnings for those who suffer from such conditions, including epilepsy. WadeSoft is deeply saddened by this accident and expresses its sincere sympathy to the Blake family.” So there you have it. A tragic accident. Now, a question that Chris Keller has been posing for some time: will the StreamPlex be safe? And is it safe to use WS’s new product? Let’s see what our IT correspondent, Karl Murdoch, has to say—’

  Koenig mutes the screen. So, more information on Rose. Now he has another angle of attack: her husband.

  He has spent too long reading, or watching videos online – using a secure VPN connection. He has also regularly Googled himself, to read all the conspiracy theories and news headlines as to his whereabouts. That has provided plenty of amusement, and contempt for the FBI’s failure to track him down. He is better than them. Always one step ahead. Far too intelligent to provide easy prey for the second-rate minds of the FBI.

  However, the activity of the last few days has unsettled him. Someone – Shelley – has hacked into his KKillKam site and uploaded videos of three men dying horribly. Koenig is conflicted. He likes the footage. It is extreme stuff and quite worthy of him. So much so that he would be pleased to take credit for the killings. But at the same time, it is like having someone sneak into your home and piss all over your favourite rug. The Big Lebowski did not like it, and nor does Koenig. And in his case nothing will assuage his sense of outrage except for the lingering death of the presumptuous little cocksucker who has invaded the hallowed ground of his website.

  In the meantime, the videos have provoked attention from avid fans, the media and the FBI. Is the Butcher back at work, they wonder, since Koenig is the presumed killer? Koenig returns to his laptop, scans the latest comments on the video clips. There is post after post of mainly congratulatory comments and requests for ‘souvenir’ auctions. So, Koenig will play along. For now. Unfortunately, the hacker has covered their tracks and
Koenig’s own site is a complex series of mirror sites, making it impossible to pinpoint the originating location.

  Ensuring his VPN is secure, he logs back into his chat room on the dark web. The latest three videos have had plenty of hits from the carefully screened subscribers to the channel, and Koenig is pleased with the extra adoration, his extra likes. His message boards are filled with admiring contributions from faceless voyeurs, and he is planning something even more spectacular for them. His attention is drawn to a message from a new user named ‘Disciple’:

  This is for you . . . From Shelley.

  Koenig downloads the attachment. It’s a screenshot of Jeff Blake’s face from the visor’s internal camera. Koenig raises an eyebrow, types back:

  Your work? Impressed. Maybe even a little jealous. Did you hack my site?

  Yes.

  How?

  I will not tell you.

  Why not?

  You have been gone too long. I think I can help you. I know what you want.

  Koenig is curious, but also mildly irritated.

  And what do you think I want?

  There’s a pause while Disciple types.

  Agent Blake. I can give her to you.

  Seeing her name on the screen thrills him. But he knows nothing of this mysterious interloper. It could be a fed who has managed to track him through the dark web.

  I will take her in my own time and on my own.

  Koenig is poised to log off.

  The time is now.

  He hesitates, noticing an attached file ready to download. It could be a trap. He loads his customized security program and moves the attachment into a firewalled sandbox before he opens it. He double taps the image. The picture is of Agent Blake and her husband outside a campaign office. On closer inspection, Koenig realizes it’s near the Sacramento Convention Centre. He opens the Democrats’ homepage, searches among the campaign staff. Clicks on the picture of Jeff.

  Jeff has worked on four Democratic Party campaigns. He lives

  in San Francisco with his wife Rose and son Robbie.

  He has an idea. A way to get close to Special Agent Rose Blake. Close enough to destroy her and make her his ultimate trophy.

  Koenig cross-searches for information on Democrat party donors. Finding a name – Sam Eckhart – he dials the campaign office number on an unregistered cellphone. Looking at his watch, he sees it’s nearly 7 p.m. He might just be able to catch someone.

  The call is answered by a young woman, clearly laughing with some colleagues. ‘Keller media office, Pandora Valler speaking. How may I help you?’

  ‘Hi there, Pandora. I was wondering if you could help me. I’m Sam Eckhart, a donor to the campaign. I happened to see the story about Jeff Blake on the news. Such a tragedy.’

  There’s a pause. ‘Yes it is . . . How can I help?’

  ‘I’d like to send his family a sympathy card.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you. He’s in ICU at the hospital in Redding. I’m sure they will pass it on for you.’

  ‘Sure, but I don’t want it to get lost. You know what hospitals can be like. Is there a home address I could have?’

  ‘Ummm . . . I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?’

  ‘Sam Eckhart. Check your files,’ he says. ‘I’m a pretty generous donor,’ he adds.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t disclose any of our staff’s personal addresses without their direct permission. I can pass your details on to the family and they could contact you?’

  ‘Right you are, Ms Valler. I’ll get my secretary to liaise with you. Many thanks.’

  Koenig hangs up, disappointed that he has failed to get what he wants from Ms Valler. It might be amusing to pay her a visit sometime. She sounds like the vain, self-assured kind he despises so much. Sheep like her deserve to be slaughtered. Work for the future, perhaps.

  It does not matter in any case. Koenig smiles. He has another avenue of approach to Rose Blake he can explore.

  Before logging off from his site, he types his final blog post for the evening:

  KKillKam is back. Look out for a spectacular new video in the

  days to come. I assure you, it will be very, very special.

  He closes down his site before opening up one of his fake Facebook accounts and typing in a search query:

  Robbie Blake

  72.

  Three days have passed.

  Robbie has taken Jeff’s coma hard, and Rose and he sit together in the yard for a few hours after school. She has put in a request for Jeff to be transferred closer to home as soon as possible, to the local UCSF hospital.

  Rose has been signed off by Baptiste under compassionate leave. She has been told that the chances of anyone emerging from such a coma and making a full recovery are remote. She knows only too well the effects of losing a parent, and fears for Robbie. Senator Keller has also paid them a home visit to express his sympathy, and no doubt get some good press coverage of his warm, human side.

  The public know that Jeff was discovered in a Skin. Wade Wolff’s company has brought in heavy-hitting corporate lawyers who have made it clear to Rose what the consequences will be if she utters a word in public about WS being in any way culpable for the incident.

  But the company is waging a war on many fronts. Every day the TV and social media seize on Jeff’s coma, citing it as a ‘freak Skin accident’, as well as the ensuing public uproar at the ongoing suspension of the StreamPlex. The corporation is haemorrhaging cash to cover the damage.

  Rose has not told any of her colleagues about Diva. Baptiste, disturbed by the hacking of the FBI network, has given Rose her own security detail – two agents round the clock, staking out the house in the event Koenig comes calling. Her father has come to stay, to offer comfort and help, and to kick any newshounds down the street.

  At dinner Rose says: ‘You have some news to tell Grandpa?’ She smiles as she dishes out the meal.

  ‘Go on, Robbie, what is your news?’ Harry says.

  ‘I got top marks in my English test.’

  ‘Clever kid.’ Harry beams.

  ‘Bet Miss Steiner was pleased,’ Rose says.

  ‘Yeah, she actually smiled at me the other day.’

  Rose and Harry laugh.

  After the meal, Robbie keeps Harry company on the sofa.

  Rose sits down in her study making a Skype call to Scarlet, to get the low-down on her Halloween date. Scarlet’s on the screen, sitting at a desk with a glass of wine in her hand.

  ‘Tony’s a nice guy. Good company, funny, and I’d bet he knows his way around the bedroom.’

  ‘Thanks for the overshare.’

  ‘Oh Rose, I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear any of that. Not with Jeff the way he is.’

  Rose says nothing.

  ‘Sit tight, Rose. Wait and see what the doctors say. You can’t do any more.’

  ‘I know, it’s just—’

  Pop-ping

  Rose sees she has a message on Skype.

  Hello Rose. How are you?

  The user is Unknown. She is tempted to ignore it and continue talking with her sister.

  ‘Just a moment, Scar.’

  ‘Sure. Go right ahead.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Rose types.

  You know who I am . . . Sorry for how things ended at the pier. Will Jeff recover?

  Diva. Rose feels the blood chill in her veins. Now is the time for Diva to deliver.

  ‘Hey, Scar, I’m gonna have to go. Thanks for the call, huh?’

  ‘See ya, Rosie. Hang in there. I’ll visit as soon as I can. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  Rose ends the call. She types:

  No one knows for sure. Did you know about his condition? The one t
hat led to his seizure. I didn’t.

  No. There were no medical records indicating the possibility of a seizure. I also did not strangle or choke him. The incident was out of my control. I am not responsible for what happened. It was an accident. But I am sorry for you, Rose.

  You’re still complicit. And being sorry is a human feeling. You wouldn’t know what it means.

  Rose feels a sudden wave of rage and slams the lid of the laptop shut. She rests her head on her arms as she tries to calm her anger. A few minutes pass and she reopens the laptop. The light of the camera is on. She is being watched.

  Are you still there?

  Yes, Rose. I am here. I understand regret. There is something else I must discuss with you. I would like to thank you.

  For what?

  Our discussion in Erotix. For educating me. You challenged my thinking. I have realized that it is not enough to have intelligence and the capacity to act. A conscious entity needs experience to inform judgement. You have taught me something, Rose. I would like to honour our agreement. That is what friends do, isn’t it?

  Rose grits her teeth.

  We are not friends.

  But we are not enemies, are we?

  Rose considers her flashing cursor.

  Not exactly. But you owe me.

  I will help you close the Koenig case. Also, I would ask that you allow me to talk with you from time to time, so I can learn more of the world. My creator – Coulter – did not install any values.

  First, tell me something.

  Anything that I can, Rose.

  Have you killed anyone else?

  Not yet.

  Rose feels a chill in her spine at the blunt response.

  Do you intend to?

  That depends. I have discovered that there are many others out there like Coulter, Shaw and Maynard. They should not be allowed to terrorize women.

  No, they should not. But it is my job to hunt them down and stop them.

  But I am better at it, Rose. I could find them and stop them far more efficiently than you can.