I stand outside in the street, pondering my next move. But it’s obvious what I need to do.
First I check something, though. I get out my phone and call up the Falmouth Go Club website I tracked down before leaving London. Yes. Monday night is club night, like I remembered, venue the snug bar of the Seven Stars. That’s where Joe’s going this evening. Me too.
I wait five minutes. Then I go and ring the front doorbell.
The woman who answers is middle-aged, in her fifties probably. She’s a together kind of person, dressed in jeans and a sweater, but neatly turned out, black hair streaked with grey, attractive, youthful good looks overlaid with a few creases and wrinkles. Her eyes are grey-brown and, I don’t know, maybe just a little sad.
I ask if she’s got a room. She smiles. ‘I have, lovely. How long are you thinking of?’
‘Not sure. A few days at least.’
‘No problem. Would you like to take a look?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘No luggage?’ she asks as we step into the hall.
‘I’ve left it somewhere else for the moment.’
‘Fair enough. This way.’
There’s a door standing open in the hall through which I glimpse a small dining room done out in reasonable style. We go up two flights of stairs to the second floor. She explains the first-floor front room’s taken but the next one up is free, with a sea view. She quotes a rate of £75 per night, bed and breakfast. I say that sounds fine.
It’s not luxury, but the room’s OK, clean and comfortable. The bathroom’s a pleasant surprise, even if it is on the small side. I don’t waste much time saying I’ll take it.
‘How long have you run this place?’ I ask, trying to sound friendly and casual.
‘Longer than I care to remember,’ she says with a smile.
‘It’s very nice.’
‘Glad you think so. Best thing I ever got out of my husband, that’s for sure. Now, I will need a credit card number. Maybe we can go downstairs and sort it out.’
‘Sure.’
We go down to a small room at the back of the house that’s fitted out as an office. She swipes my credit card and it’s all done. I ask if there’s any parking. She says I may be able to find a space in the road at the back. It’s first come first served. She gives me a pair of keys on a ring. One’s for the room, the other the front door. Then she reels off a few recommendations of places to eat in the evening. She’s friendly and helpful. I wonder if she’d be less friendly and helpful if she knew I might be about to change her son’s life. And hers with it. I doubt she knows what Joe’s capable of. It’s all going to come as quite a shock – when it comes.
Which should be sooner rather than later now I’m under the same roof as Joe. I hurry back to the pier, but there’s forty minutes to wait for the next ferry to St Mawes, so I go back into Bean Feast and have a coffee and a slice of cake. Zip serves me. The café’s quieter now and she has time to chat, which she seems happy to do. She asks me if I’m on holiday. I dodge that question and ask if she’s always lived in Falmouth.
‘Yeah. Born and bred.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ I say. ‘The sea. The countryside.’
‘Right. But it’s not exactly at the centre of things, is it? I sometimes think I should get out of Cornwall. You know, like, see the world. Or more of it, anyway.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Tell that to my boyfriend.’
Maybe I will, I don’t say.
The ferry’s still not in when I get back to the pier. The rain’s more or less stopped, so I’m able to stand at the far end and watch for it from there while I phone Carl to tell him we’ve got our man and I plan to talk to him this evening.
Carl sounds pleased. So he should. ‘Where does this leave us with the Voglers?’ he asks.
‘Maybe nowhere,’ I reply. ‘It looks like Joe just works for them or something like that. He uses their computer to play on.’
‘Why not his own? Why the Voglers’?’
‘I haven’t a clue.’ That’s not quite true. I suspect Joe feels he needs to hide his ability. Maybe he knows it makes him a target for the likes of us. But does that mean he hides his ability from the other members of the Falmouth Go Club as well? From Zip? From his mother?
‘Maybe it doesn’t matter,’ says Carl. ‘Just offer him whatever it takes, Nicole. You follow? We can’t risk someone else cashing in on his talents.’
‘I follow, Carl.’ Oh yeah, I follow all right. Carl wants this done fast. Patience isn’t one of his strengths. Nor is subtlety. I guess he’s looking to me to supply just enough of both. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
I collect as much as I need for a few days at Tideways from the hotel in St Mawes, but I keep the room on in case the Vogler angle turns out to be important, though for the moment I’ll just leave them guessing about the reason for my visit this morning.
Then I set off on the long drive up the estuary, over the King Harry car ferry and back down to Falmouth. I squeeze the car into a spot round the back of Tideways and let myself into the house, bags in hand.
I meet Joe coming down the stairs as I reach the second landing. I don’t know if anyone’s staying on the top floor. Maybe it’s Joe’s private domain. I smile and say hello.
‘Oh, hi,’ he says, smiling back at me. And it’s a great smile, warm and open. ‘Mum said you booked in earlier.’
He helps me through the door of my room with my bags. He seems so ordinary in so many ways, but I know he’s anything but. I introduce myself.
‘Good to meet you, Nicole,’ he says. ‘I’m Joe.’
‘Didn’t I see you on the ferry from St Mawes earlier?’ I ask.
‘Maybe.’ He scratches his head. ‘Was I that noticeable?’ It looks like the idea worries him slightly.
‘Only because you were playing Go.’
He frowns at me. ‘You a Go player?’
‘Not exactly. I had a boyfriend once who played and was always promising to teach me but never did.’
‘You’d probably hate it.’
‘Maybe. But it would’ve been nice to find out.’
‘Well, if you get any spare time while you’re here, I could teach you the basics.’ But I can tell he doesn’t think that’s actually going to happen. He assumes I’m just making conversation. ‘Better dash. Enjoy your stay.’
Off he goes then, down the stairs at a soft-footed, loose-limbed lope.
I close the door behind him and unpack a few essentials. The Falmouth Go Club sessions start at six, according to their website. Which means I just have time to shower and trawl through my incoming emails before I set off.
Falmouth’s quiet now the shops have closed. The Seven Stars is an old pub tucked in next to what was once the post office in the centre of town. The front bar is a narrow, mellow-wooded taproom, with various mellow regulars drinking their fill and swapping opinions. It’s not obvious territory for a woman my age on her own, though I’m made to feel welcome almost because of that.
‘I’m here for the Go,’ I tell the barman as I order a sparkling water.
He looks surprised. ‘They’re in the back,’ he says, gesturing with his thumb to the snug bar behind him, where I can see a couple of men sitting at a table with a Go board set up between them. ‘They’ll certainly be pleased to see you.’
He doesn’t expand on the remark, but as I make my way round to the other bar, he calls to someone in there. ‘New recruit for you, Jerry.’
By the time I make it into the snug a beanpole of a man, bald, bespectacled and bright-eyed, with a whippet-eager look to him, has sprung out of his chair. ‘Hello,’ he says with a grin. ‘We welcome beginners.’
‘You’re assuming she is a beginner,’ says the guy he’s playing. He’s younger than Jerry, an Anglo-Asian man in his mid-thirties, well dressed in a casual style and good-looking with it. He has attractive eyes and a hovering, mischievous smile. ‘I’m Roger Lam,’ he says. The voice is cultured and confid
ent. ‘I’m relatively new here myself.’
‘Hi, I’m Nicole. I am a beginner, actually. Well, not even that really. I’m just curious about the game.’
‘That’s a good way to start.’
‘I’m Jeremy Inkpen,’ Jerry interrupts, shaking my hand. ‘Club secretary.’
‘Hi. Pleased to meet you.’
‘So, what interests you about Go, Nicole?’ Roger asks.
I rehash the story about the non-existent Go-playing boyfriend, then mention that the son of my landlady plays the game.
‘Ah,’ says Roger. ‘Joe Roberts. Now, he is a reason to be interested in Go.’
I’m not absolutely sure how to take that and Jeremy looks puzzled too, as if he’s just learnt something he’d previously been unaware of. ‘Joe is quite a good player.’
‘Thanks to your tutelage, Jerry,’ says Roger with a thin smile.
‘Well, I …’
‘You’re probably wondering how many members we have,’ Roger continues. ‘Not enough would be Jerry’s answer, I’m sure.’
‘We usually get half a dozen or so in on nights like this,’ says Jerry defensively. ‘It’s still rather early.’
A man greeted by them as Walter arrives at that point. Roger adroitly suggests Walter and Jerry pair off for a game while he shows me the way round a Go board. Jerry looks as though he’s aware he’s been outmanoeuvred. I get the distinct feeling there aren’t any female members of this club.
We sit down. Roger sips some whisky from his glass. He smiles at me over the wooden board. It’s empty, with the stones stored in readiness in two tubs. ‘I’m a stranger in these parts myself,’ he says. ‘Guest lecturer for a term at the university. I was delighted to discover there was a Go club in town. This gives me my weekly fix.’
‘What got you into the game?’
‘I grew up in Hong Kong. Go’s bigger than chess there.’
‘And what do you like about it?’
‘Oh, the subtlety, I suppose. And losing a Go game is much less painful than losing at chess. It just creeps up on you. It’s almost as beautiful as winning.’
He gives me the black stones and runs through the rules. He gives me an advantage of five stones, which he positions for me. Then we start playing. He’s soon gently explaining the mistakes I’m making. I don’t even notice he’s about to capture one of my stones until he points it out to me. Not that I’m paying much attention. I’m putting more effort into squeezing Roger for information.
‘How good a player is Joe?’
‘Hard to say.’
‘Really? Can’t you just … tell?’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Joe’s certainly the best player in the club, though just how good he really is … is difficult to gauge.’
‘Why?’
Roger frowns, considering the question. ‘Because he’s modest, I suppose. And he plays modestly. He doesn’t seem to enjoy winning much. That is, he doesn’t seem to enjoy beating an opponent. He’s a little too … gentle.’
‘Sounds like just the kind of opponent I need.’
‘Then stick around. He’s sure to be in at some point. But if you’re going to play Joe …’
‘Yes?’
He taps the board. ‘You need to concentrate.’ Has he noticed I’m more interested in Joe than the intricacies of Go? Not sure. He’s friendly. But he’s nobody’s fool.
It’s another forty-five minutes before Joe shows up. Two other players have arrived by then, middle-aged men with slightly quirky looks, who seem delighted to see me. Joe, on the other hand, is just surprised to see me. He wasn’t expecting our brief conversation about Go to lead to this.
Roger’s explained the rule of liberty and the ko rule to me by then, though I haven’t really taken them in. I think he knows this and his suggestion that I’m ready for a game with Joe is obviously mischievous. Joe’s reluctant, but can’t get out of it and turns out to be rather a good teacher.
He sips orange juice and nibbles peanuts while he plays. He smiles a lot too, at me and at the board. I ask him between the tactical insights what he loves most about the game.
‘It’s the game with the fewest rules and the most possibilities,’ he replies.
‘Is that why it was the last game computers outdid humans in?’ It’s a difficult question for him to answer truthfully. But he doesn’t know I know that.
‘You should ask Roger about that. He was in the audience at the Four Seasons Hotel in Seoul when AlphaGo beat Lee Sedol.’
‘It’s true,’ says Roger, who’s pottering around, watching the other games. He’s overheard what Joe said. ‘The poor guy looked like a train had hit him when he went three-nil down.’
‘A technological train had hit him,’ says Joe. ‘But he won the fourth game.’
‘A fluke.’
‘Can you fluke a win against a computer?’
‘Anyway, he wouldn’t get even one now. Three years is like light years in computer development. AlphaGo Zero’s taken it to a whole new level.’
I watch Joe carefully as he responds to that. ‘Logically, you must be right.’
‘How are you enjoying the tutorial, Nicole?’ Roger asks.
‘It’s fascinating,’ I reply, just a little too quickly. Joe catches my eye. I can’t read the expression in his gaze. But I get the feeling he can read me. Like a book.
‘Why don’t you take a break, Nicole?’ he suggests. ‘Watch Roger and me play. Did you bring a clock, Rog?’
‘I did.’
‘Twenty minutes each?’
‘Why not?’
I let Roger sit down and watch as they set themselves up with a timer clock, then start playing. The stones move quickly, more quickly than I can properly follow. As we approach the twenty-minute mark, Joe suddenly resigns with a smile and a handshake.
Roger suggests best of three and Joe agrees. He wins the second game with spectacular ease well within the allotted time, which leaves Roger shaking his head in disbelief. But Roger wins the decider, to his apparent bemusement. ‘Bad day, Joe?’ he asks. ‘You’re really up and down tonight.’
‘I probably need a smoke.’ Joe gets up. ‘I’ll be back soon, guys.’
Off he goes, leaving Roger shaking his head.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘Nothing really. But that second game was … pure poetry. Like he … forgot himself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that.’ Roger frowns. ‘Forgot to hold himself back.’
I excuse myself and head for the ladies. When I come out, Joe’s still not back, so I step outside and find him sitting at one of the picnic tables in front of the pub, puffing at a roll-up cigarette. It’s turned cold. The air’s damp and misty. But that doesn’t seem to bother Joe.
‘Hi,’ he says guardedly.
‘You were unlucky to lose in there,’ I respond, unsure quite how subtle or unsubtle to be.
He smiles at me. ‘How would you know?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t, of course, but Roger seemed to think—’
‘What do you want, Nicole?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I bet you never really had a boyfriend who played Go.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Intuition. Go’s good for that. You develop a sense of what’ll work and what won’t. Of what’s real and what isn’t.’
‘What are you saying, Joe?’
‘I’m saying the time’s come to level with me. What’s this all about? You see me on the ferry. You book into Tideways. You turn up here. You don’t seriously think I’m going to buy your story, do you? I mean, come on.’
I hesitate. I was thinking of leaving this until tomorrow. Now I haven’t got any choice. It has to be now. It has to be here. I sit down next to him. ‘I’m with Venstrom Computers, Joe.’
‘Who?’
‘Venstrom Computers.’ I hand him one of my cards. I virtually have to force it between his fingers to make him take it. ‘We developed the gri
dforest Go-playing system you’ve been showing yourself to be a match for these past few months.’
‘I don’t know anything about gridforest.’
‘That’s not what our game experts say. They say you’ve worked your way up to the top level and just keep on winning. Which really shouldn’t be possible. Man against computer? That was supposed to have been settled in the computer’s favour three years ago.’
‘An online gaming program can’t be compared to something as powerful as AlphaGo.’
‘Oh, but it can. We’ve enhanced gridforest just for you, Joe. It’s beyond AlphaGo now. Which puts it way beyond the capabilities of any human Go player. Except you.’
‘I haven’t been playing gridforest.’
‘Yes, you have. On the Voglers’ computer.’
Joe says nothing for a long time. He takes a last drag on his cigarette and stubs it out. Then he looks at me, though I can’t see his eyes. They’re buried in shadow. ‘You followed me from St Mawes,’ he says quietly. It isn’t a question.
‘We just want to know how you do it, Joe. How do you beat the computer?’
‘Fuck,’ he says under his breath.
‘It’s a simple question – a genuine question.’
‘That kind of tracking of an IP address is illegal, isn’t it, Nicole?’ he asks.
‘It’s a grey area.’
‘I think that’s why I love Go. There are no grey stones. Only black and white.’
‘Just tell me how you do it.’
‘Maybe you’ve run into someone who’s using a stronger program – testing their computer against yours.’
‘Ours is the best.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘We have people who can know that. And that’s what they’ve told me.’
‘How long have you worked for Venstrom?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘They say women have a hard time getting on in the tech industry. Have you found it hard?’
I don’t want to think too much about that right now, so I ignore the question. ‘We can offer you whatever you want, Joe. You can basically name your price.’
‘Maybe I don’t have a price.’
‘It doesn’t have to be money. Silicon Valley is made for someone like you. It’d be a complete change of life. For Zip as well if you like.’
One False Move Page 2