The Game Changer

by Louise Phillips

  Addy

  THE CLOSER ADDY GOT TO BELIEVING HE WAS wangling his way out of solitary confinement, the more he thought about what Donal had told him. The boy was obviously frightened. Why else pretend to be dead? Donal thought he had seen bodies being buried but he might been have mistaken: things looked different at night. It was all too ridiculous and extreme, and a child’s imagination could conjure up all kinds of stuff. Hadn’t he gone a little stir-crazy on a few nights, convincing himself he heard the boy moving around in the pipe chambers? Maybe Donal didn’t trust him any more. It was then that Addy remembered something Adam had said to him. It was about people thinking that the truth was an easy thing to work out, but it wasn’t. Addy hadn’t paid much attention to it, putting it down to Adam playing his new father role, but, still, he did need to work a few truths out.

  Start off with the facts, he told himself. Let them lead to balanced conjecture. He began to make a mental list of all the things he could be sure of. If he got that right, it was a good beginning. The clearer a person was about where they wanted to go, the better chance they had of getting there.

  Once he was outside, he could consider his next move. His instincts told him to get as far away from the island as he could. His heart told him differently. Even if Donal was wrong, he couldn’t shake off what the boy had said about Chloë. Neither could he turn his back on Aoife.

  He might have felt like a fraud when he arrived, and a bit of an overgrown kid, but things had changed. If Chloë was in trouble, he would try to help her. He would find Aoife too. He might be his father’s son, but he wasn’t going to turn his back on those who needed him.

  The Game Changer

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS

  20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  A clever Game Changer recognises the optimum time to move into the end zone. Each element can be both demanding and cumulative, but the more complicated and dense the web, the stronger it will be.

  Sarah being a fighter is a surprise. She did a good job of camouflaging her inner strength. It doesn’t matter. It only means she moves from one list to another, from those who are willing to die to those who will need additional encouragement.

  The intravenous drip means the drugs go straight into the bloodstream, bypassing any risk of rejection. This morning she was no longer able to remember things, or demonstrate any coherent means of communication.

  Soon Stephen will arrive back by boat, and once the stage is set, most of those on the programme will do whatever the Game Changer asks of them. Some will express doubts, demonstrate resistance, but anyone who needs aggressive methods can be dealt with by Stephen and the other leaders, wanting to prove their worth, especially on the final test, ensuring Saka can depend on them.

  The first to die will be the helpers, including that boy Addy. The Game Changer isn’t fooled by his new-found enthusiasm for self-enlightenment. Young, spoilt, overly confident middle-class boys are irrelevant. He kept Aoife within the programme, nothing more, and she will send Kate in whatever direction is required.

  (Page 1 of 1)

  Kate

  KATE OPENED THE BOX OF HER MOTHER’S correspondence in the memorabilia drawer. In it, there were mainly postcards, most from Kate, sent when she was away on holidays, letters from her mother’s school-friend who had emigrated to Australia before Kate was born, her mother’s Christmas-cake recipe, old photographs, a few lists, a couple of Kate’s school reports, birthday cards, all neatly bound by a single white ribbon. None of it gave her any more information than she already had. Had the solicitor said anything to her after her mother died? Was there anything unusual in the will? She couldn’t think of anything. What about emails? Maybe if she went back over some old ones from the solicitor, something would click.

  She turned on the laptop, waited for her emails to load, and the first thing she saw was a recent one from Ocean House. They had been unable to reschedule an appointment for a client who only ever dealt with Kate. She thought about phoning Adam but, damn it, she needed to get her life back. She fired off a reply. She would make the appointment. It was in less than an hour. What was the harm?

  ∞

  After the session, which had gone well, she started to feel a lot better, and more like her old self. She rang Charlie before she left the office. Their conversation raised her spirits.

  Locking the office door, the last person she expected to see was Malcolm Madden, and immediately, her mood changed.

  ‘Kate, it’s good to see you.’

  Bluff it out, she told herself. ‘What brings you here, Malcolm?’

  ‘I was hoping to meet someone.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. They attend meditation sessions here, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone there. I haven’t heard from you for a while.’

  Had he followed her? Was he making this up? ‘Things have been tricky.’ She tried to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Are you setting a distance between us?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I sense things have changed.’

  ‘There’s been a lot happening, that’s all.’

  ‘Have you had more flashbacks?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about them?’

  ‘Look, Malcolm, I’m sorry. I have to go.’ Would he let her? She looked around. There was no one else nearby.

  ‘No problem, Kate. You do whatever you need to do. I might wait here for another while in case my appointment shows up.’

  Their eyes locked. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she finally replied, heading towards the stairs.

  ‘And I’ll look forward to it.’

  While she was making her way to the car, the heavens opened, bringing a thunderous rain shower. It wasn’t long before her clothes were soaked. The rubbery sound of tyres coming to a halt at the traffic lights was amplified, and most of the cars had their headlights on. She was still uneasy about Malcolm. She felt exhausted, too, and it wasn’t the first time this sudden exhaustion had come upon her of late. There had been other tell-tale signs too – the vomiting, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, especially in the mornings, tenderness in her breasts, her more frequent visits to the bathroom.

  Sitting in her car, she locked the doors, putting her hand on her tummy, telling herself it was nothing more than her brain working overtime. She wasn’t even late, but then she remembered the one and only risk they had taken. She had awoken well before the alarm clock had gone off, and looked at Adam’s broad back in the bed. There was something so right about the two of them being together, and as the morning sun fought to gain access to the room, in an almost dreamlike state, she had reached over and touched him. He turned immediately, responding to her kiss, wrapping his arms around her before his hands travelled, her desire increasing, until not making love wasn’t an option. Neither of them spoke, their lovemaking desperate, passionate and needy. He had paused only once, his eyes asking if she wanted him to stop, but she pulled him closer, their heat radiating off one another, his breath short, warm and intense, his hands caressing, their desire furious, all-consuming, almost primal. Afterwards, he told her how much he loved her. She felt the very same way.

  Leaning back against the headrest, she knew if there was a new life growing inside her it wasn’t something either of them had talked about. The prospect of having another child didn’t frighten her. If anything, it was the opposite. She wasn’t due her period for a few days. The sickness could still be a virus, or her stress levels. Either way, the prospect evoked emotions she hadn’t expected, so it was a few seconds before she registered that her phone was ringing.

  ‘Kate, it’s Adam. I couldn’t get you at home.’

  ‘Hold on. I’ll put you on the hands-free set.’

  The car was still parked, but she needed time to pull herself together.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she finally asked. ‘Lee Fisher’s arriving tomorrow. A visit was always on the cards, but it’s earlier than expected.’

&nb
sp; ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘My feeling is he wants to be closer to things as they unfold here. He’s asked me to apply more pressure on PIU.’

  ‘I suppose that’s not a bad thing.’

  ‘No, Kate, it’s not, and it makes sense too, based on new information he has from Tom Mason’s sister.’

  ‘What new information?’

  ‘Apparently the victim had had one too many drinks when he spoke to her about the research element of the eighties studies, and how some members had taken the view to expand it to lower socioeconomic groupings. According to Emily Burke, they hired a thug called Willy Stapleton to …’ He paused.

  ‘What is it, Adam? What did they hire Willy Stapleton to do?’ Her voice shook.

  ‘The guy had an addiction problem. He needed money to feed it, so he would have done whatever it took.’ Again, he paused. ‘Look, Kate, there’s no easy way to say this, and you have to bear in mind it could have been drink talking.’

  ‘Say it anyway.’

  ‘According to Emily Burke, Willy Stapleton entrapped children for the study.’

  ‘Entrapped?’

  ‘He abducted them.’

  ‘That’s crazy, Adam.’ She thought about her father. Despite his involvement in unorthodox cognitive studies, she couldn’t see him being part of anything like that. Then she remembered the old newspaper clipping hidden at the back of her mother’s dressing table. ‘It couldn’t be,’ she said out loud.

  ‘I know it’s hard to take in.’

  ‘Adam, I need to talk to Malcolm. He must know what went on.’

  ‘I don’t want you going near that guy.’

  ‘I met him a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Ocean House.’

  ‘I thought you’d gone for a drive before your run. You didn’t say—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I need to find out the truth, irrespective of how bad it is. The not knowing is driving me insane. What if Willy Stapleton was the one who abducted me?’

  ‘There’s something else, Kate.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stapleton died ten years ago, from cirrhosis of the liver.’

  Kate didn’t know what to think. At some level she had always thought that one day she would be able to confront her attacker. She had stopped listening to Adam, but then she heard him say, ‘Emily Burke told Fisher the study came to an abrupt end when things started to get out of hand. He wants to look at the missing-person cases too.’

  ‘Adam, what if all the strands are linked – the missing persons, the murder in Manhattan, the suspicious deaths of the O’Neills, the events in the eighties, the notes, me?’ She looked around her, half expecting to see Malcolm. ‘What did PIU tell you about the girl’s attackers?’

  ‘She hasn’t given names, claiming she never knew who they were, but one of the detectives is suspicious she’s holding back. She was taken more than once.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Her abductors threatened her, saying if she told anyone about what had happened, she’d be killed.’

  ‘But what about her family and friends? Didn’t people ask where she’d been? There must have been physical signs too.’

  ‘I guess that depends on the level of parental structures in place. She was taken three times in total.’

  ‘That’s like targeted child prostitution.’ An image of her own father flashed in front of her. This was beyond anything she’d thought possible.

  ‘The world is a very sick place, Kate.’

  ‘Adam, what if it had been me instead of that girl?’

  ‘It wasn’t you. Anyhow, if what Emily Burke said is to be taken at face value, you wouldn’t have been targeted. You weren’t part of any lower socioeconomic grouping.’

  ‘It could have been mistaken identity. If the girl was taken more than once, maybe my abduction was a mistake. You said Stapleton had drink issues. It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.’

  ‘No, it’s not …’

  ‘And my father, if he was involved, he might have been the reason I got away.’

  ‘Stop there, Kate. As yet, there is nothing to link the woman’s statement to Mason or O’Neill.’

  ‘But there are similarities to her abduction and mine. You said so yourself – and, no matter how you can turn this around, letting me return home was a risk. If someone did intervene, someone of influence, someone who was part of the elite grouping, it could have been my father.’

  ‘What do you want me to say, Kate?’

  ‘Nothing. I want you to listen.’

  ‘I am listening.’

  ‘Why do you think my parents didn’t tell me the truth? Their denial would have escalated my anxiety over the events, feeding into further memory shutdown. Even now, Adam, I still get edgy if I hear someone walk behind me, if they get too close.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Christ, what must that girl have gone through? The lack of support had to have left her feeling completely abandoned. If something ever happened to Charlie, I wouldn’t allow any stone to be left unturned. If I had to, I would spend my life finding out the answers.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘So why didn’t my parents look for proper answers? They were intelligent people, my father especially – he didn’t believe in grey areas. If there was a truth to be found, he would have looked for it. Unless …’

  ‘Unless what, Kate?’

  ‘The truth wasn’t something he wanted to hear.’

  Addy

  ADDY HAD CONTEMPLATED BEING ALLOWED TO leave the room for so long that his body was actually shaking seconds before it happened. Unlike his arrival, when he’d had that fight with Stephen, he took in as much of his surroundings as he could, his eyes darting in different directions. In the corridor, he counted five other rooms. There were keys hanging on a hook on the wall. The walls seemed deep, and when he looked up he saw extra insulation fitted between the rafters, along with streams of fluorescent tubes: the place was without natural light. Before mounting the stone steps to an upper door, he spotted the air vents, behind which, he thought, were the ducts to the plumbing pipes. He thought about Donal, wondering why he hadn’t returned.

  Upstairs, everything seemed luminous, daylight catching him unawares. The two members accompanying him brought him back to his old room, and all the time, he kept thinking they were going to change their minds and take him back downstairs. He told his body not to shake, and his face to smile, to appear as if this was all okay, because to do anything else would risk everything.

  He felt his heart thump in his chest, as he rooted through his backpack, looking for his phone. The battery was dead, but he found the lead in the bottom of the bag. His hands fumbled, plugging it into the phone, his fingers no longer adept at doing the simplest of things. When the green battery light came on, he stared at it, his hands shaking. He needed to get a grip.

  Holding the phone with both hands, he waited for instructions to punch in his password. With each number, the phone bleeped, the sound seeming loud, amplified. He went through the images, frantically looking for pictures of home, keeping an eye on the signal bars, just in case. Hearing footsteps approach the door, his instinct was to hide the phone, but then he realised he was no longer under suspicion: he was a member now. The door opened without a knock, and a woman, who introduced herself as Jessica, gave him a weak smile.

  ‘You’ll want a shower, an opportunity to freshen up.’ It sounded like an instruction rather than a request. He felt dirty beside her, uncomfortable about his appearance, his greasy hair, unshaven face and the stench of body odour.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, needing to clear his throat, his voice croaky. ‘A shower would be good.’

  ‘I see you’ve checked your phone.’ She made it sound as if he had done something wrong. ‘You’ll find everything is as you left it, except yourself. We all need time alone to clear our thoughts.’

  When she stepped out into the hallway, she left
the door ajar, then returned with towels and soap. ‘You can use the shower room at the end of the corridor. Take your time.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘After that, we can set up your first session.’

  ‘Already? I was hoping to get outside for a bit.’ He could tell from her face that she wasn’t pleased.

  ‘Of course.’ She smiled. ‘Why not stretch your legs? It will do you good.’

  He held her stare.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she paused, ‘but call into the commune room beforehand, and meet some of the other members. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She closed the door, and he waited, counting each of her steps, until he couldn’t hear them.

  The Game Changer

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS

  20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Suffocating gases, like carbon dioxide and methane, are not toxic. They are capable of killing, as was the case with Michael O’Neill, but the gases are not poisonous in themselves. They merely act as an alternative to air.

  The gases intersperse until their presence diminishes the level of oxygen in the atmosphere. At that point, they become the chosen method of inhalation for the body. Enclosed areas contain approximately 21 per cent oxygen. When you add suffocating gases, oxygen drops proportionately. If oxygen falls below 15 per cent, it leads to lethargy, disorientation, confusion, coma and ultimately death.

  Carbon dioxide is preferable to methane because the latter is capable of being detected in the blood. With carbon dioxide, during an autopsy, things are trickier, as it already makes up part of the blood supply. Prior to death, it will rise irrespective of cause, and a medical examiner will have difficulty in determining it as the culprit.