The Broken Trilogy

by Amy Cross

  “That was an actress,” I continue, edging closer to him. “It was someone you found who looks like me, someone you thought you could use to trick me, but I'm not falling for it. I don't know what kind of an idiot you think I am, but you haven't fooled me, not for a moment!”

  “There are three challenges,” he replies, clearly amused by the situation. “The first will take place tomorrow night, and I have all the details for you. Over the next three nights, you will face the different three types of lover, and you will conquer them all. And then, if you're lucky, you'll win the game.”

  “What does that mean, though?” I ask. “If I win, what happens?”

  “It ends.”

  “And everyone lives?”

  “Everyone who's left alive, I suppose. I've never really thought that far ahead, it's simply not in my job description.”

  “Why can't you just tell me what -”

  “Here,” he continues, as his arm reaches out from under the covers, holding a plain white envelope. His hand looks older than I'd expected, with wrinkles and liver spots. “This is where you need to be. Don't worry, you won't be in any danger and you've already done worse things. Remember what you said in the video, Elly. You need to trust those words.”

  “But if -”

  “Please,” the voice hisses, dropping the envelope and suddenly reaching out to grab my wrist. “You have to end this! You can't let the game continue, too many people have suffered! Please...” He pauses, and it's almost as if he's sobbing under the sheets. “We've waited so long for you to come and fulfill your role. Please, please, for the love of God, be the Lady Red who ends it! If not for yourself, then for all the other people out there who might end up becoming the game's next victims!”

  “I don't know if I can,” I tell him. “Let me see your face.”

  “You've seen it before.”

  “Let me see it now.”

  Again, he shakes his head beneath the blanket.

  “Where's Mark?” I ask.

  “Mark?”

  “Mark Douglas? He used to be Mr. Blue. Is he...” I pause for a moment, wondering whether I dare to hear the answer. “I need to know if he's still alive.”

  “Forget about him.”

  “No, I -”

  “Come closer.”

  Sighing, I lean a little closer to the sheets that are covering his head. There's a part of me that wants to pull them away, but at the same time I figure I need to play by his rules. Whatever's happening here, it's clear strange than I can imagine.

  “You must do this,” he continues, lowering his voice a little. “You must take the role of Lady Red and try to end the game. The final three challenges have never been attempted, but if you can get past them... You wouldn't have come this far, Elly, if you weren't strong enough. Everything that has happened since you first met Mr. Blue has been designed to test you, to see if you can do this. The last Lady Red, Alice Taylor, wasn't up to the task, and she knew it. But she saw something in you, and so did Mark Douglas, and so did Mr. White... And I recognize it too. I've recognized it since the first moment I even heard about you. We had a plan to bring the game to an end, and I'm certain it's going to work.”

  “I... I'm just one person...”

  “I have to go now.”

  “No -”

  “Cover your eyes. I don't want you to see me.”

  “This is crazy,” I reply, “you just -”

  “There's a map on the wall by the door,” he continues. “You aren't far from familiar territory, you'll make it home just fine. And tomorrow night, you'll begin the challenges.”

  “No, you have to -”

  Suddenly he lunges at me, lifting the sheets and pushing them over my face. I fall back as I feel him throwing his weight against me, and as I tumble to the floor in a tumult of bed sheets and blankets, I realize I can hear someone running away. For a few seconds, I struggle to disentangle myself, and when I finally manage to get to my feet I turn and see that the bed is empty. Running back through to the other side of the cottage, I find that the door has been left wide open, and I look out at the forest only to see nothing but dark trees all around.

  He's gone.

  Heading back to the bedroom, I pick up the envelope and with trembling hands I tear it open. Inside, there's a simple piece of card, telling me to be at a restaurant in Mayfair at precisely 8pm tomorrow night.

  Mark

  2008

  “Jesus Christ,” I whisper, glancing across the restaurant for a moment before turning to Alice, “is that -”

  “Yes,” she replies, barely even looking up from the menu.

  “But -”

  “Don't gawp,” she continues. “Yes, there are some rather famous individuals here tonight. Actors, politicians, royalty from across the globe, but they don't like people staring at them. They prefer to be treated normally. I mean, for God's sake, they get enough attention on the street. Let them have some peace in here.”

  “Sorry,” I reply, adjusting my cufflinks, “it's just -”

  “You'll get used to it,” she adds. “You're moving in esteemed company now, Mark. The days of hanging out on random Mediterranean beaches are over. Besides, no-one else in this room has anything on us. They don't understand the world of the game, and they never could. Perhaps from time to time they idly wonder whether people like us exist, but then they dismiss the entire idea as a fantasy, as something that's simply too absurd.” She glances over at a Hollywood movie star who's eating at the next table, and then she turns back to me. “God, if only they knew.”

  “I don't know what to order,” I mutter, looking down at the menu. “I don't even know what half of these things are, I don't speak a word of French.”

  “You'll learn.”

  “I will?”

  “I'll make you learn.”

  “That sounds like a threat. Is learning French some kind of punishment?”

  “I told you, as part of your entry into the game, you'll be receiving the full education you've so sorely lacked so far.” She smiles. “You have a few rough edges, Mr. Blue, but they'll be resolved soon enough.”

  “What is this,” I mutter, “some kind of Pygmalion shit? Is there -” Before I can finish, I feel a sharp pain in my leg. Looking down, I see to my horror that she has a fork pushes against my trousers. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Don't swear,” she hisses. “Not in a place like this. It's not considered to be polite.”

  “And stabbing people with a fork is polite?”

  “In certain circumstances, yes.” She takes the fork away and puts it back on the table, a little apart from the rest of her cutlery. “I'm not saying the curse words can't be deployed in certain situations, Mark, but they're tools like anything else. You must learn to use them properly. There are times when a good 'fuck' or 'shit' can be perfect, but you must know when to pull the pin out and lob it into a room. You'll be given lessons in that, as in everything else.”

  “Lessons in how to swear?”

  She nods politely.

  “Jesus Christ,” I reply, looking down at the menu again. “Next you'll be telling me I have to relearn how to take a -” I catch myself just in time. “How to use the bathroom.”

  “Please fetch me a new one,” she says, handing the fork to a passing waiter before turning to me. “You'll also be given lessons about how to perform in bed.”

  “I will?”

  “Strict lessons.” A faint smile crosses her lips. “That's one of my many jobs.”

  I stare at her for a moment. “Are you -”

  “Tonight, for example,” she continues, leaning a little closer and lowering her voice, “I'll be teaching you how to perform cunnilingus on a woman. I don't mean just sloppily searching around with your tongue, I mean actually knowing what the hell you're doing.”

  “You'll be teaching me?”

  “It might take all night.” She smiles. “Oh well, I'm sure it'll be fun.”

  Feeling as if I might be about
to blush, I look down at the menu again. The thought of spending an entire night with my face between Alice's legs is kind of surreal, although it's not necessarily unappealing. I like the fact that she's so direct with me, that she says what she wants and what we're going to be doing, although it's hard to believe that she's quite so confident.

  “Don't get embarrassed, for God's sake,” she continues. “Every man should know how to do such things, and it'll prove very useful to you as the game progresses. Going down on a woman is like picking a lock. Either way, it's a skill that can help you to get through closed doors.”

  “You still haven't told me exactly what this game entails,” I point out. “You've been very vague so far.”

  “For Mr. Blue,” she replies, turning to me, “the game is mainly about seduction, and about drawing other people into the game. You might even bring women here, so you can impress them with your sophistication. Well, with the sophistication you'll be acquiring during our lessons.”

  “And I'll be all suave and cool after those lessons, will I?”

  “You most certainly will be,” she says calmly. “Every Mr. Blue has to attain a certain level of refinement. Either that, or...” She pauses. “Either that, or you'll end up as a cautionary tale for your replacement.”

  Elly

  Today

  “You,” I whisper, feeling a sudden punch of anger in my belly as soon as I see his grinning face. “I guess I should have known.”

  “Shall we go to our table?” asks Luke Sharpe, the man I last met eighteen months ago when he introduced himself as the latest Mr. Blue, as the man who was supposed to replace Mark in the game. We're standing in the restaurant bar, which I entered a moment ago to find him waiting for me. “It's absolute murder to get a reservation at this place, I had to pull so many strings. Oh, and the menus are all in French, but don't worry, I can translate.”

  “I don't think I'm hungry.”

  “Please, humor me. I believe you were informed about the need to complete the three challenges?”

  “So dinner with you is one of the challenges?” I ask.

  “To some degree, yes,” he replies, “although I hope that you won't find it to be quite so excruciating. Believe it or not, I can hold a conversation and I'm not a complete bore. Plus, given our involvement in the game, I'd hazard a guess that we have some things in common.” He pauses, as if he's waiting for me to say something. “As ever with the game, Elly, you can turn around and leave, but by doing so you'll be surrendering.”

  “And what are the consequences of that?”

  “I'm not really sure, to be honest, but there will be consequences, and I think you've already come too far to stop now. All that pain and misery would be rendered pointless.”

  I pause, trying to work out whether I can really stomach a few hours in this man's company. There's something about his self-righteous grin and overflowing confidence that makes me want to throw up, but at the same time I feel as if he's right: I've come this far and I don't want to surrender, not yet.

  “Come on,” he continues, leading me toward the main part of the restaurant, “the food here is exquisite.”

  “Where's Mark Douglas?” I ask, as we make our way between the other tables.

  “Who?”

  “You know who I mean.”

  “My predecessor as Mr. Blue? Ah, yes, he was in a bad way, wasn't he?”

  “Where is he?”

  “How do you know he's still alive?”

  “I don't, that's why -”

  “Here's our table,” he adds with a smile, stopping at a table in the middle of the restaurant, where a waiter is already pulling my chair out for me. This is one of those fancy places where hugely expensive meals arrive in small portions on large plates, and I feel distinctly out of place. Glancing around at the other diners, I realize that I'm in the company of some of London's most high-profile figures. “You won't get a sensible answer from me regarding Mr. Douglas,” Luke continues, “at least, not right now. Please, let's sit.”

  Taking a seat, I thank the waiter as he hands me a menu.

  “I recommend the lobster,” Luke continues. “The chef here -”

  “So the challenge is just to sit through a meal with you?” I ask, interrupting him. “And then what? You're going to hand me a gold star, pat my on the back, and send me on my way?”

  “The challenge is not just the ordeal of my company,” he replies, “although I'm sure that will be sufficiently trying. How much did our mutual friend tell you when you spoke to him yesterday?”

  “Not much. Just that there are three challenges.”

  “And tonight is the first,” he continues. “We'll eat, we'll drink, and then we'll return to my apartment and spend the night together.”

  “You're joking, right?” I reply, feeling sickened by the idea.

  “You can always leave.”

  “I might just do that,” I say firmly, feeling a shiver pass through my body at the thought of this guy putting his hands on me. I want to turn and run, but I still feel as if I should push on. Besides, I can't stop thinking back to everything I said in the video; if that really was me, I seemed so certain that this would be the right thing to do, and I guess I need to trust my former self a little.

  “There are three types of lover,” he continues, “one for each challenge, and I'm the first. I'm a stranger.”

  “And I'm supposed to just get into bed with you?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “And...” I pause for a moment, struck by how simply he seems to view the entire matter. “And then what?”

  “I'm sure you can guess.”

  “I'm not...” Suddenly worried that people might be able to hear me, I lean closer to him. “I'm not like that. I can't just -”

  “You submitted to Mr. White.”

  “That was different.”

  “Because Mark told you to do it?”

  “No, because...” I pause as I realize that he's right. Mark did talk me into going to Mr. White that night. I never would have agreed to something like that if Mark hadn't encouraged me, if he hadn't told me that I was making the right choice.

  “Mark Douglas is alive,” Luke says after a moment. “There, I wasn't going to tell you, but you've squeezed it out of me. He was very badly hurt, but we took great care of him and he's still alive.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “The game doesn't traditionally come with a prize,” he continues, “but in this case, we felt that dangling a little carrot might encourage you to play along.”

  “So you're saying I can't see him until I've done all of this?”

  “That's one way of interpreting the situation,” Luke replies with a smile. “Of course, you can just leave if you prefer. I'm sure you've been reminded all along that you're welcome to walk out the door.”

  “But then I won't see Mark again.”

  “The odds would be very much against you.”

  Looking down at the menu, I realize that I've got no appetite for anything. I keep thinking that at some point I'm going to be able to run away from the game, that eventually I'll find a way to escape, but now it's as if they've found a way to keep me playing. After all, I can't just abandon Mark and not take this chance to see him again. Closing the menu, I set it down and look over at Luke, only to find that he's still watching me.

  “I'll have what you're having,” I tell him.

  “Excellent,” he replies. “I was so hoping that would be your choice.”

  ***

  “As you can see,” he explains as we step through the door a few hours later, “I've redecorated. What do you think?”

  I feel a shiver pass through my body as I find myself back in the penthouse suite at the Castleton, where I spent so much time with Mark. Looking around, I can't stop thinking about him, and about the last night I was with him.

  “It's really ugly,” I say finally, turning to Luke. “It was nicer before.”

  “You don't like my taste?”
/>   “Not at all.”

  “I thought the place needed to be modernized a little,” he continues, heading over to the drinks cabinet. “Honestly, I don't think anyone had carried out any major work since the twenty-fourth Mr. Blue, Adrian Powers-Booth, back in the early 1980s. I'm the twenty-ninth, so it seemed only fitting that I should try to make the apartment my own. Can I fix you a drink?”

  I shake my head, before heading over to the door that leads out onto the balcony.

  “You must have many memories of this place,” Luke says after a moment.

  "You look like you belong here," I remember Mark saying to me once, when we were standing on the balcony.

  "I do?" I asked him, shocked by the idea.

  "You have a natural elegance, Elly. I hadn't noticed it before, but it's evident now."

  Thinking back to that time with him, I allow myself a faint smile.

  “He was manipulating you the whole time, you know,” Luke continues.

  I turn to him.

  “I know how the role of Mr. Blue works,” he tells me. “The art of the role is to make everything seem effortless, to hide the furious calculations that are running in the background, but in truth, almost nothing is left to chance. When Mark -”

  “He was my father's business partner,” I reply, bristling a little at the idea that this horrible man, this imposter, thinks he can lecture me about Mark. “That's how I met him. My father died and Mark came to the house, and it was a complete coincidence.”

  “And he lured you into the game so easily.”

  “No,” I tell him, “I resisted at first.”

  “But he still got what he wanted in the end.” Opening the door to the balcony, he steps out and takes a look at the vastness of London, laid out before us under the night sky. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” he asks, before turning back to me. “That's a very nice dress, Elly. It suits you.”

  “Mark bought it for me.”

  “I must admit, I've been glancing at your figure all evening. From what I can tell, you have a good body.”