Gone

by Leona Deakin

  ‘You were … bored?’ Jameson looked as if he might throw up. ‘No. That doesn’t follow. It would have taken setting up. You’d have had to plan ahead, make measurements, acquire the equipment …’

  Seraphine sat back in her seat and raised her eyebrows at Bloom. ‘Brains and brawn. Why haven’t you taken him for yourself, Augusta? Are you scared he might not go for your ageing-spinster vibe? You could be quite pretty, you know? If you made an effort.’ Seraphine gave a little laugh and looked away. ‘I think I may have touched a nerve.’ Seraphine winked at Jameson. ‘The truth is, Marcus, I was interested to know how strong your feelings were. You could say I’m quite fascinated with the love thing. I find it—’

  ‘Fascinated?’ said Jameson, repulsed.

  ‘What’s the word? Compelling. I find love compelling.’ She spoke to Bloom. ‘Like you say, we are more similar than we are different. And, like everybody else, we want the things we cannot have.’

  Bloom met her gaze. ‘Which includes me, by the way. Because the answer is no. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘What do you want with Augusta anyway?’ said Jameson. ‘What can she give you that you can’t take for yourself?’ Anger dripped from every word.

  Seraphine lifted her eyes to the cracked windows above Jameson’s head. ‘Augusta knew exactly what I was within just two meetings. No other psychiatrist or psychologist has ever worked it out and I’ve tested plenty. And I don’t mean that it took them longer. They never suspected it at all. Because I’m really very good at hiding it.’ She looked over at Bloom. ‘She’s the only person who ever worked it out, and I’ve had fifteen years to think about why that might be.’

  ‘Because she’s bloody good at what she does,’ said Jameson.

  ‘Maybe. Or maybe …’ Seraphine narrowed her eyes. ‘Once she’d made it clear to me what I was and that I wasn’t going to grow out of it, I knew the only way to keep it secret was to start over. Over the years I made it my business to meet every expert on psychopaths that I could find. I even wrote a research paper with the world’s leading authority and the man had no idea he was working with one. I came to two conclusions. That I am particularly talented. And that Dr Augusta Bloom must have had some extra insight.’

  ‘What kind of extra insight?’ said Jameson.

  Seraphine folded her arms. ‘Now, Augusta, what kind of insight could I possibly be talking about? Do you want to enlighten him or should I?’

  ‘I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about,’ said Bloom. ‘And anyway, if all this is about me, why is Marcus here?’

  ‘You know why Marcus is here.’

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Of course you do, Augusta. Since your poor mother lost her grip on reality, you have had no one and nothing of meaning in your life … apart from him.’ Seraphine looked at Jameson. ‘I actually feel weirdly sad about this, but he’s nothing more than leverage.’

  Without warning, the man in the grey suit stood up and fired a Taser gun directly at Jameson’s back. Jameson’s body flexed against the chair and the ropes that bound him, as if trying to flatten itself. He didn’t make a sound as the jolt of electricity hit him, but the expression on his face screamed extreme pain. A second later his chair rocked on to its side and crashed to the floor. With his hands and feet tied, Jameson couldn’t break the fall and his head hit the concrete with a loud thud. His body continued to tense as the volts circled his system, and then Grey-Suit released the trigger and Jameson was still.

  ‘Marcus!’ Bloom strained against her ropes. ‘If you think hurting him is going to make me do what you want, you are bitterly mistaken, young lady.’

  Seraphine chuckled, then picked up her chair and carried it close to Bloom’s. ‘I’ve always loved that tone you use when you’re taking command. I copied that, you know, kind of made it my own.’ She reached into the pocket of her jacket and removed a small yellow object which she placed in her lap. ‘H6,’ she said under her breath.

  Bloom stared at the pencil. Its lead was pointed and sharp and, at the opposite end, a small cap of red paint prophesied what was to come.

  ‘How did you know?’ asked Seraphine. ‘When did you know?’

  ‘When did I know what?’

  ‘That Sarah was really Seraphine. When did you figure it out?’

  ‘I began to suspect you might still be alive, and maybe even involved, after the incident on the bridge. I knew that if you were, you’d want to get as close to our investigation as possible. I thought of all the women I knew and had spoken to over the past month and I realized there was only one I’d never met.’

  ‘Marcus’s lover.’

  Bloom nodded. ‘So I looked up experts in functional psychopathy. As soon as I saw your surname, I knew.’

  Seraphine looked pleased. She rotated the pencil in her hand. ‘If you join me, I’ll make sure this goes nowhere near your gorgeous Marcus. But if you refuse, you should know, I have been practising … All those cadavers … All those hospital morgues.’

  Jameson was lying motionless on the floor. How long until he recovered? Was he OK? How hard had he hit his head?

  ‘What on earth could you need me for?’ Bloom asked. ‘Even if I did have some special insight – which as a matter of fact I do not – it couldn’t match the sophistication of your game.’

  ‘Really? You still don’t know?’

  ‘I have no idea whatsoever.’

  ‘I don’t need you for anything, Augusta. I don’t need anyone for anything.’

  Bloom frowned. If Seraphine didn’t need her, then what the hell did she want? ‘So?’

  ‘So?’ Seraphine’s eyes were sparkling, playful.

  Bloom laughed. Of course. It was obvious. ‘You don’t need me to join you. You want me to.’

  Seraphine leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her hands in a prayer position. ‘You hide who you really are so very well. So well, in fact, that people use you to treat people like me. Do you know how awesome that is? But, you know, the thing I’ve always admired most is how you took us youngsters under your wing and steered us on to our path. That’s what I’m doing now. I’m continuing your work. And you should absolutely be part of that.’

  ‘I am not like you.’

  ‘Really?’ Seraphine gestured to Jameson lying motionless on the concrete. ‘Look at him. What do you feel when you see that?’

  She didn’t know much about Tasers. But he should surely have regained muscle control by now. Why was he so still?

  ‘What do you feel, Augusta? I know you don’t want me to hurt him. You like his company, respect his judgement, etcetera, etcetera. But do you feel guilty that he’s here?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to be guilty about. You did that to him, not me.’

  ‘Ah, yes. But he’s only here because of you. And he’s only on the floor because of you. He only experienced all that pain and anguish because of you … And I’m not just referring to the volts. You saw how he was with me. How much he cared for me. And that is all because of you.’

  Bloom stared at Seraphine and Seraphine stared back.

  ‘What do you feel?’ Seraphine asked, her tone urgent, bordering on excited. ‘What do you feel?’

  ‘I am not like you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course, I’m sure. You’re a psychopath without any concern for the consequences of your actions. You can’t understand how others care so deeply for their family and friends. Look at what you did to your poor parents. You think because you are logical and unbiased you’re superior, but that doesn’t make you a better person.’

  ‘And you know what I say to that, Augusta?’ Bloom strained her hands against the ropes. ‘It takes one to know one.’

  ‘It took you fifteen years to reach that conclusion? That I spotted the truth because I’m the same as you? You’re smarter than that, Seraphine.’

  ‘I bet if I studied your brain I’d see all the familiar patterns: the underactive amygdala, the reduced grey matter in th
e orbitofrontal cortex, all resulting in impaired social and emotional responses. I’d maybe even see a lack of oxytocin.’ Seraphine took a purposeful glance at Jameson. ‘Is it denial? Or have you just been hiding who you are for so long that you now believe your own propaganda? You’re so distant and cool, clinical and incisive. Have you never wondered? Or been tested?’

  ‘Do you know what projection is, Seraphine?’

  Seraphine smiled. ‘They wanted me to test you, like they were tested.’ She looked around at the others in the room. ‘But I told them, She won’t take on the dare. She’s too in control. When it comes to – what is it Professor Dutton calls it? – the mixing desk of psychopathy, your impulsive, risk-taking traits are turned way down low. It’s why you hide so well. I’m the same and I’d never have taken up the dare. I, like you, am too evolved, too perfected. So this was the only way to draw you in and show you what you can be part of. You started this because you knew we were outstanding. We are the master race. We control everything from politics to business. We pull the strings. We start the wars and end the wars. We are already in charge. Join us and you’ll be free to be who you really are.’

  Bloom watched Stuart take his phone from his jacket pocket, check the message on the screen and smile. It was the smug smile of a man who had obtained what he wanted and who knew he always would.

  Seraphine continued talking. ‘I know you’re probably wondering why we’ve all gathered here. The truth is I wanted them to meet you. They’ve heard me talk about you so much and most of them have spent a good deal of time watching you. But I wanted them to see why you belong.’ She turned towards Denise. ‘Denise was the first to join me. When I saw her potential, I realized what you’d seen in me.’

  Bloom took a look around the room again. ‘This is not all of you, I take it.’

  ‘Of course not. We are many strong, but those details are for later … and only if you join us.’ Seraphine rotated the pencil between her thumb and forefinger. ‘If you continue to deny the truth, I will be forced to take extra measures. I’ll find another way to prove it to you. It was only when I saw all that blood spreading in a glistening pool across the floor that I realized just how different I was. I wasn’t horrified like everyone else. I was fascinated. Wanna see?’

  Bloom stared at Jameson’s body on the floor. She knew what she needed to do, but she didn’t want to do it. He would wake up soon and hear everything and she wouldn’t have a chance to explain. If this experience hadn’t ruined things between them already, what happened next in this dank, dark room undoubtedly would.

  Seraphine stood up. ‘You’ll see, I promise. Once I do this, you’ll see.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Bloom said, meeting Seraphine’s gaze.

  The other woman studied Bloom and then a smile spread across her lips. ‘You’re admitting what you are?’

  Bloom looked at Seraphine for a long moment, then gave the smallest of nods.

  66

  Lana opened her eyes. Her hands and feet were still tied, but she was no longer in a chair but lying on the floor. What had happened? She’d done everything they said. She’d completed their challenges and confronted Marcus Jameson and his mousy sidekick. She’d even given them Jane. Was her daughter tied up in the dark somewhere too?

  She strained in fury against the ropes. The twine dug into her wrists and she pulled her legs against their restraints, but to no avail. She couldn’t see anything, but she knew she was in a confined space. She used her feet to explore the walls around her. The boot of a car, maybe? She shouted at the top of her voice until her throat felt raw. No one answered. No one came.

  Just a few hours ago, everything had looked so different. She’d received a call offering her the life she deserved and had made her way to the dark arches beneath Leeds station to meet the architect of the game, a woman called Sarah.

  She’d caught the train from Ilkley. She’d wanted a drink, but she knew it was out of the question. How had they discovered what she’d done? No more than an hour after she’d picked up Jane outside the school, she’d received a call from a blocked number. The woman had said that Lana’s actions were foolish. Lana had so much potential, she was truly special, and completing the challenges within the rules was the only way to get the life she deserved. They were prepared to give her one last chance to redeem herself. If she took Jane to an address in the Yorkshire town of Ilkley and kept her locked in the attic, she could continue. Lana didn’t question their motives because she didn’t care. She’d been sleeping rough for three days. Here was a place to stay, free of charge, and all she had to do was keep Jane out of sight.

  A few days later, a skinny man had come by the house to check on them. Lana had taken him to the loft and he said she’d redeemed herself. He’d taken her to South Milford on the back of his motorbike to confront Jameson. Lana had enjoyed that. It felt good to show Marcus that she was strong and powerful. He had always looked down on her.

  On her walk to the dark arches, Lana had wondered what her new life would be. She had potential. That was what they’d said. It was the sort of acknowledgement and praise she’d hungered for her whole life. She’d always known that she was better than most people, but the world around her couldn’t always see it. It made her furious. Only the drinking and the drugs numbed her frustration. The only time she ever really saw the awe she craved was when she seduced a man away from his wife or girlfriend, and that never lasted long enough. They either became distracted by their own guilt or started to take her for granted.

  She’d knocked on the large wooden door as instructed and waited. It had opened to reveal four people on expensive-looking chairs in the middle of a bare brick cellar.

  ‘Please, take a seat, Lana.’ She’d recognized the voice from the phone calls.

  ‘Sarah?’ Lana had said as she walked to the wooden chair and sat down. Only then had she noticed the ropes on the floor. What were they for?

  ‘We’ve been impressed with you, Lana.’ The woman who spoke was attractive, with blonde hair and striking blue eyes. ‘You handled the situation with Mr Jameson and Dr Bloom on the bridge particularly well and I thank you for that. It was a moment which held a degree of … importance for me personally.’

  ‘What has impressed you?’ Lana had said, desperate for praise.

  Sarah had smiled. ‘Do you know who we are?’

  Lana had looked at each face in turn. ‘That’s Denise, who collected Jane. And that’s the motorbike driver.’

  ‘No. I mean, do you know who we are as a group? What we represent?’

  Lana had shaken her head.

  ‘I take it you know that you’re a psychopath?’

  Lana’s temper had flared. It was not the first time someone had thrown that insult at her, but she hadn’t expected it here. ‘You think?’ she had said with barely contained irritation.

  ‘No, we don’t think, Lana. We know. You are a psychopath. That’s why we selected you and that’s what we have been testing you on. The game is a means of analysing your choices and skills to determine if you truly are one of us. And I hope you feel proud, Lana Reid. Because I can confirm that you are.’

  Lana had tried to process the information. Was this really something to feel proud of? Didn’t it make her a freak or a monster? ‘Are you all psychopaths?’ She had looked at the five people around her and then at Sarah.

  ‘Indeed we are. Albeit of a particular kind.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, in the range of psychopathy, we have our out-and-out serial killers, those guys who can’t keep a lid on their desires. And, yes, they are usually men. Then we have our general criminal psychopaths, whose impulsive and egocentric natures cause them to reject society’s laws. And then we have the likes of you, Lana, the functional psychopaths. Personally, I prefer to think of you as the hidden psychopaths. You live and thrive within society, hold down jobs, have relationships, raise families, because you mimic what is required. I know that the normals can be incredibly fr
ustrating and stupid at times, but you learn to cope. You find a way to escape through drink and drugs, or you hide for a time so that you can indulge your own needs. Sound familiar?’

  Lana had nodded.

  ‘And then, finally, you have us.’ Sarah gestured around the circle. ‘And we are the ones that the normals should really be scared of, because we don’t just live within their society, we manipulate it. And we do it so well that they have no idea we’re even doing it at all.’

  Lana had thought of the bosses she’d worked for and how easily she had manipulated them. ‘You said I was special and had potential?’

  ‘I did and you do.’

  ‘How? For what?’

  ‘Dr Bloom once told me that there’s no such thing as normal. Everyone is unique. But, for me, there is a massive difference between those governed by their emotional attachments and those who operate in the realm of logic and reason. Psychopaths play to win and there is no bigger game than life. So I have a final challenge for you. It’s a choice.’ Sarah had picked up two metal boxes from the floor beside her chair. They were each the size of a standard glasses case and identical apart from the numbers etched on to their lids. She had held them out for Lana to see. ‘You have a daughter and you have friends. If you select box zero, we will send you home, with our very best wishes, to continue hiding in plain sight.’ Sarah had moved her head a little closer to Lana’s. ‘However, seeing as you have proven yourself to be a true psychopath, if you select box number one, we will enable you to have the life you truly deserve. The only condition is that you will never be able to go home.’

  ‘Join you, you mean?’ Was Lana hearing this right? Did they think she had the potential to be one of them, powerful enough to manipulate society from behind the scenes?

  ‘Make your choice, Lana. And all will be revealed.’

  And so she had.

  67

  Jameson lay with his right cheek pressed against the cold concrete. He’d been Tasered once before, in MI6, but two fellow trainees had been holding his arms to stop the inevitable fall, which is where the real injury can occur. He had felt nervous but safe. Experts were on hand and it would last no more than ten seconds. Ten seconds, it turned out, that felt like a lifetime.