The Game Changer

by Louise Phillips

  ‘Would you say Sarah looked up to Saka?’

  ‘Yes – I suppose she did.’

  ‘And what about social events, meeting people who would have been important to her – family, close friends, people from work?’

  ‘She didn’t want to know about any of that. She went on and on about how everyone was looking at things the wrong way. That we’ve been brainwashed, that we’ve stopped thinking for ourselves.’

  ‘So, it wasn’t only you she pulled back from?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’

  ‘And what about when she ordered the baby doll? Did she talk to you or anyone else about it beforehand?’

  ‘Not that I know of, although she did talk to that Saka guy. I know that much. When she started bringing the doll to bed with her, treating it like it was Lily, she said Saka told her it was important to be selfish about the things we needed. I mean, Jesus,’ he put his face into his hands again, ‘I got so frustrated. I didn’t know what to do. When she went away, I thought if I gave her some time, she would work it all out, come back home, but she didn’t.’

  ‘John, do you need a couple of minutes?’ Kate asked.

  ‘No, no. I’ve waited long enough. Ask whatever you need to ask.’

  ‘What about Sarah’s language – the words and phrases she used? Did they change?’

  ‘She talked about stuff like steps in the programme, finding a new way. It felt like she kept repeating the same things over and over, as if the more she said them, the more sense they made to her.’

  ‘It was impossible to break down?’

  ‘It was like she wasn’t listening – at least, not to the things I was saying.’

  ‘Would you say her reasoning was somewhat simplistic?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Were her thought processes entrenched? Things were either good or bad, very few grey areas?’

  ‘A bit like that. She was certainly singular in her belief that that stupid doll was Lily. I think once that doll arrived it was the end. At that point, she pulled back from work, from everything. It was as if staying in the real world risked Lily – I mean, the doll – being taken from her.’

  ‘Someone found her Achilles heel.’ Kate glanced at Adam, thinking about how vulnerable she had felt of late.

  ‘John,’ Adam turned another page in his notebook, ‘is there anything concrete you can give us about where Sarah might have gone, or who this Saka person might be?’

  ‘No, but she did mention something about an island.’

  ‘Do you know where? Was it abroad or at home?’ It was Adam’s turn to glance at Kate.

  ‘I don’t know.’ John Sinclair sounded deflated. ‘I asked her about it, but she wouldn’t say. I think she regretted telling me even that. It was like she’d let out some big secret, but that Saka guy was part of it. I know that much.’

  To Kate, Adam said, ‘That island could be anywhere.’

  She didn’t answer. Instead she turned back to John Sinclair, who had a look of shame on his face. ‘John,’ she said, ‘you’ve been a great help.’

  Adam stood up. ‘We’ll work on what we have.’

  Then John Sinclair said, ‘I thought I saw him once.’

  ‘Who? Saka?’

  ‘Yeah, but I can’t be sure.’

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Tall, slim. He had a tight haircut. He wore a suit. I only got a quick glance. I couldn’t even tell you what age he was, but if I saw him again, I think I’d recognise him.’

  They waited until they were in the car to talk. Kate was the first to speak. ‘That man looks and sounds broken.’

  ‘You did great in there.’ He took her hand in his.

  ‘Did I? I hope so.’

  ‘What do you think about what he said?’

  ‘It certainly sounds like Sarah was embroiled in some cult-like grouping. She displayed a lot of the obvious signs.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Personality change, alteration of sleep patterns, shifts in value system, pulling back from family and social events, a sudden change in language, black and white reasoning, refusing to see grey areas, using unusual jargon – it’s all there.’

  ‘What’s with the change in sleep patterns?’

  ‘Cults try to alter the sleep behaviour of members, partly to hamper normal, rational thought. Once that’s achieved, other methods are applied.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘Confessional-type sessions aimed at convincing members that the group is their only means of emotional support. Other basic methods are also used, creating a hierarchical or pyramid structure, wearing similar clothing and, as time goes by, cult members are encouraged to see their identity as that of the group, rather than the individual. This can include exercises in reducing the concept of their uniqueness, communal activities, regular meetings, copying each other’s physical displays of emotion.’

  ‘Physical displays of emotion? Do you mean like crying together or something?’

  ‘It could include that, or copying facial expressions, hand signals, whatever.’

  ‘I still don’t get how people get pulled into this.’

  ‘It’s a process, Adam, a gradual, subtle shift, until people are so indoctrinated in what the leader wants them to believe that they can no longer envisage an alternative, or they have committed so much by then that they’re emotionally unable to back away.’

  ‘So, other than a potentially fictitious name, and an island, we have damn all.’

  ‘The island makes sense. It creates the necessary isolation.’

  ‘I’ll get the team to talk to the relatives and friends of Amanda Doyle and Robert Cotter again, see if the name Saka, or the island location, rings any bells.’

  ‘Adam, I’ve something to tell you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s leave it until we get back to the apartment.’

  Addy

  ADDY EYEBALLED THE BOY, TRYING TO WORK OUT IF there would be any shift in his resolve. To him, it made sense to find Chloë first, but there was something about Donal’s vulnerability that got to him. Maybe it was the boy being on his own for so long, without any parental support, or maybe, in part, he saw himself in the kid, putting up a brave exterior while inside it was different.

  ‘All right,’ he said, ‘we’ll go to the burial place first.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘If half of what you’re saying is true, after we find Chloë, we’re going to get the hell off this island.’

  The boy smiled at him.

  ‘What?’ Addy asked.

  ‘We’re like Crusaders or Robinson Crusoe.’

  Despite all the oddity, Addy wanted to laugh. It wasn’t so long ago that he had seen the world as some kind of fictional adventure, a world in which he was the hero, and he had a fictional father, who was a wise man, who brought him from being a young boy to a warrior. But Addy didn’t laugh because the real world was a different place. In the real world, fathers abandoned their sons, then tried to be friends with them when all the growing up was done.

  ‘Listen, Donal, you might enjoy playing Robinson Crusoe, but I don’t.’

  ‘What about the others?’ the boy asked, nervous and serious again.

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘They might be in danger too.’

  ‘Let’s just go to this place. We’ve wasted enough time.’

  ‘He’s going to kill them, you know.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Saka.’

  ‘He told you that, did he?’

  Donal took a step forward, whispering, like they were conspirators, ‘He doesn’t come right out and say it, but that’s what he means.’

  Kate

  NEITHER KATE NOR ADAM SPOKE MUCH ON THE WAY back to the apartment, and she was constantly closing her eyes, going in and out of sleep. As he parked the car, she woke up with a jolt. He didn’t rush her, but waited until she got her bearings. It was only then that she remembered she hadn’t seen the
squad car for a while.

  ‘Is the surveillance still in place?’

  ‘I was going to tell you when we got upstairs. It’s been pulled back. You know how it is, Kate. After a certain period, it’s standard.’

  ‘Let’s get inside.’ Even without taking a pregnancy test, her body was telling her too many things for it to be anything else and she was determined, irrespective of how upsetting things had been, that she was going to put a positive slant on the news. But, entering the apartment, everything changed. The last thing either of them expected was another note, but there it was, and this time the envelope had her name on it.

  ‘Don’t pick it up, Kate.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Adam went into the bedroom, pulled out a set of protective gloves and two separate evidence bags. He placed the envelope in one of the bags, and having pulled the note out with his gloved hands, placed it in the other.

  The note was short:

  Kate ‒ I do not like the way things are upsetting you. It’s exactly the same as your mother’s death. Everything was too little, too late, wasn’t it?

  ‘What does it mean?’ Adam asked.

  ‘I need to sit down.’

  ‘It’s okay. Take your time.’ He put his arms around her. ‘Tell me in your own words whenever you can.’

  ‘The day my mother died, Adam, she took a bad turn. The nursing home moved her to the hospital for further tests. I went up to see her, and I stayed with her for most of the morning. Obviously I knew she wasn’t well, but she’d been that way before. I never thought it would happen, not that day.’

  ‘Go on, Kate, I’m listening.’

  ‘I had to pick up Charlie, you see. I told her I’d be back. I didn’t realise – I thought it was nothing more than another turn. The doctors had been so upbeat. I didn’t see the harm in going away for a couple of hours. She had fallen asleep. I didn’t know …’

  ‘What, Kate? What didn’t you know?’

  ‘I didn’t know she would die.’ She broke down.

  Adam pulled her closer.

  ‘The hospital phoned me, but it was too late,’ tears streaming down her face, ‘my mother was already dead, and she was on her own. I wasn’t there. I let her down. I was all she had, and I wasn’t there.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said to John Sinclair, that it wasn’t his fault about their daughter dying, but those words don’t mean anything, not when it’s someone you love.’

  ‘Kate, I know this is difficult, but do you have any idea why someone is sending you these notes?’

  ‘No, but I know what it feels like.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That whoever it is has been watching me for a very long time.’ Standing up, she walked to the study door, taking the key from under the plant pot to unlock it.

  He followed her and, for the first time, saw the mind maps on the wall. ‘Jesus Christ, Kate. What’s all this?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to put the pieces together.’ She took a step closer to the mind map with her name at the centre. ‘Whoever he is, there’s one thing for sure. He can’t let go.’

  ‘What makes you so sure it’s a “he”?’

  Addy

  WHEN ADDY AND DONAL REACHED THE CLIFFS, another cluster of dark clouds gathered overhead. It would be dark soon. Below them, the Atlantic waves crashed against the shore. The temperature had dropped at least another two degrees, and with heavy clouds in front of the moon, it would be pitch black once the sun had gone. Despite everything that had happened, Addy couldn’t help but be blown away by the sheer beauty and ruggedness of the place, isolated in the Atlantic, a separate world, out on its own.

  The seagulls overhead swooped and squawked, sometimes shadowing them, but always following. He worried they would act as some form of beacon, bringing unnecessary attention, but there was nothing he could do about the dynamics of the natural world. ‘Donal,’ he called, above the wind, when they reached flatter terrain, ‘where do you sleep? How have you survived out here?’

  ‘I’ve a hideout. There’s a boathouse on the other side of the island,’ he pointed west, ‘I found it when I swam back, after pretending to drown. I have to be careful – they’ve searched it a few times. I can’t leave my stuff there.’ His face was serious again. ‘I have to wrap up any food I have, and my blanket, and hide them when I leave.’

  The boy was proud of himself, and Addy didn’t blame him.

  With the sun lower in the sky, the sinking amber glow blinded them. Donal put his hand over his eyes to block out the glare. ‘Were you scared when you were locked in that room?’ he asked Addy.

  ‘Yeah. At times.’

  ‘Sometimes in the boathouse I get scared.’

  Addy thought about Charlie, probably doing his homework or playing football or something else a million miles from there. ‘You did great, Donal,’ he said, thinking for a split second about hugging him, but opting for high fives instead. The small gesture lifted Donal’s mood, and Addy laughed when the boy said, ‘It’s like an adventure, isn’t it?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  Then Donal asked, ‘You do believe me, about the bodies?’

  ‘Let’s get there first.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘How much longer?’

  ‘Ten minutes, maybe less.’

  On the higher ground, they could see the commune buildings and the old church in the distance.

  ‘What’s that?’ Donal asked, pointing to the commune.

  Addy followed his line of vision, and saw black smoke billowing sideways from the helpers’ quarters.

  Kate

  KATE THOUGHT ABOUT ADAM’S LAST QUESTION. There was no reason to assume the sender of the notes was male, but she had. All of a sudden, telling him about the pregnancy felt wrong, and in a way, she was relieved when his work mobile rang.

  ‘I have to go back in. That was Fitzsimons. I asked him to dig deeper into the property portfolio Madden’s involved with.’ He held up the bagged envelope and note. ‘Plus I need to get someone to look at these.’

  ‘They’ll be like the others.’

  ‘Don’t give up, Kate.’

  ‘I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic.’

  ‘I’ll see about getting that full surveillance back in place.’

  ‘The note isn’t strong enough. There’s nothing threatening about it.’

  He took a step closer to her. ‘When I get back, let’s open a bottle of wine and relax. Neither of us is very good at knowing when to draw the line about putting pressure on ourselves.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan,’ she said, even though she knew he would be drinking the wine alone.

  ‘Stay put for now, will you?’

  ‘Sure. Adam?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I want to transcribe the note before you go.’

  ‘But you know what it says.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  He waited while she copied it on to a sheet of paper, then pinned it on the study wall.

  ‘Kate …’

  ‘You don’t have to say it. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here until you get back, but I’m not the first person in the world to receive harassment notes.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t leave the apartment until I get things sorted.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ∞

  When Adam left, the apartment felt like a monster that was trying to chew her up. Were the notes designed to make her feel that way? Could they be a decoy? One way or another, whoever had sent them had a vested interest in unnerving her. If it was Malcolm, it would explain a lot. Even though they hadn’t been in touch for years, he knew more about her than most. Had she shared with him how upset she was at not being there when her mother died? If the sender had been monitoring her for a number of years, there must be something about their shared past that was eluding her.

  What if, as Adam had suggested, the sender of the notes was female? She alw
ays felt that the centre of the mind maps belonged to someone other than herself. O’Neill, Malcolm, her father, even Mason were all options, but the creator of the notes, irrespective of gender, was a candidate, too. Despite seeing her father’s name stare back at her, and all the dark things she’d contemplated he might have been capable of, was she making the classic error of denial? It was impossible to think of him as a child abuser.

  She created another map with the PIU victim in the centre, then another, this time writing the name ‘Saka’. Could the identity of the sender be in front of her? The abuse victim was now a grown woman. Why had she come forward only recently? Kate knew there could be any number of reasons, but as she was thinking this, she reread the copy of the latest note.

  ‘What are you seeing, Kate,’ she said aloud, ‘that you can’t put your finger on?’

  Special Detective Unit,

  Harcourt Street

  ADAM WASN’T HAPPY ABOUT LEAVING KATE ALONE, but he had his own reasons for asking Fitzsimons to get additional information on the portfolio of properties. He was angry that he hadn’t made the connection before, but now that his suspicions were raised, if he was correct, the new information would implicate Malcolm Madden even more.

  Scanning down the various addresses, it didn’t take him long to find the range of properties listed as sites 5–14, all located in the lower Rathmines area, each with a unique folio number. Fitzsimons had done as Adam had requested, and beside the folio references, the individual house numbers and street addresses were now transcribed. Seeing Kate’s old house on the list didn’t prove anything, other than that it was yet another prime investment site, but comparing his house-to-house notes against the full list, particularly the two witness statements, confirming rumours about Kate’s father, he found what he was looking for. Both statements alluding to the rumours had come from two of the portfolio properties, one being Kate’s old home. He’d be talking to Malcolm Madden again. The question was whether or not he would wait until Fisher arrived. He’d also get Fitzsimons to find out whatever he could on the two individuals who had given him the information.