by Amy Cross
"You make it sound like it's alive," I say, removing my mask.
She smiles. "There is so much for you to learn; I'm afraid it's quite hopeless to think that you might understand the entirety of the game in just a few hours. It has taken me many years to get even to my limited level, and there is still a great deal that I will never comprehend. The game is so much bigger than any of us, Mr. Pope; I fear we can only seek to understand our roles, and trust that the rest of the game will take care of itself."
"What's in here?" I ask, walking over to a nearby cabinet.
"History, mostly," she says.
"History?" Turning to her, I see for the first time that she is perhaps not the all-powerful, all-knowing figure I had supposed. With her mask removed, she stands before me completely naked, and I sense a new edge of vulnerability, as if she remains part of the game not because she believes in its rules, but because she is scared of trying to escape.
"I shall show you sometime," she continues, walking over to me. "The cabinet contains the history of the game, but it also contains the prize, sealed in a small box."
"The prize?" I ask.
"No-one knows what it is," she replies, indicating a small wooden box, barely larger than a cigar case. "The box cannot be opened until someone has won. Whatever is in there, it's a secret that awaits the eyes of the winner."
"Are you not tempted to -"
"No!" she says firmly. "The game is the game. Only the winner shall learn the whole truth. For now, Mr. Pope, you must learn about Mr. Blue. You will be the nineteenth Mr. Blue, and the eighteenth left a great deal to be desired. We must move cautiously, especially now that we have attracted the attention of New Scotland Yard. I cannot yet be certain that the death of Inspector Matthews has resolved that particular issue. In fact, I have been considering the possibility of making substantial changes to the way the game operates, although I have met with resistance in some quarters."
"From Mr. White?"
She smiles. "I want to make one thing very clear to you, Mr. Blue. You will never be called upon to actually kill someone. That role is reserved for Mr. White, and Mr. White alone. Although there have been exceptions in the past, I should like to ensure that Mr. Blue is from now on free of such demands. Both Vincent D'Oyly and Edward Lockhart were ultimately inadequate players; I trust that you will prove more adept, and that as such you might remain in the role for some considerable period of time. We need stability. Your role is simply to find the women, discreetly audition them for the game, and then pass on a select few to Mr. White."
"And what is my reward?" I ask. "What do any of us gain from this?"
"The chance of freedom," she replies, with a smile. "And plenty of good fucks."
"Can we not be free simply by walking away?"
"No," she says, with a hint of tears in her eyes. "I am speaking of a kind of freedom that few people ever get to experience. I don't mean the freedom to decide which street to walk down, or which book to read, or where to go for a short holiday. I mean real freedom. Freedom of the mind, Mr. Pope, and freedom of the heart." She pauses for a moment. "I don't know about you, but I would do anything for that kind of freedom."
"And why do you continue to play the game?" I ask.
"I have no choice."
"But if you were given a choice," I continue, "would you still play?"
"Of course not," she says. "Not after all these years."
Staring at her, I find myself shocked by this new side of her character. I must confess, I do not yet fully understand what motivates her, but I believe there is more afoot here than mere pleasure. Now that I have allowed her to believe that I am committed to the role of Mr. Blue, I can see that I shall have to take my time and slowly explore the limits of this situation. It might be many weeks, or even months, before I am ready to turn the tables on Lady Red and Mr. White; until then, I must stay undercover, and I must convince them that I wish to play the game on their terms.
"I must be honest with you," I say, choosing my words carefully in an attempt to deflect suspicion, "and admit that I do not fully fathom the scope of the game. Nevertheless, I have seen enough here today to know that I wish to take part. I believe I shall explore the role of Mr. Blue slowly, but ultimately I shall do everything within my power to help us both win the game." I pause, hoping that I have sounded sufficiently convincing. "I mean, I trust that I am to be accepted?"
With tears running down her cheeks, she smiles broadly; suddenly, and with no warning at all, she steps forward and hugs me, pulling our naked bodies together. "Thank you," she whispers into my ear. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me. To have a good, strong man such as yourself in the role of Mr. Blue is a rare benefit. For the first time in many years, I do not feel so alone."
I open my mouth to reply, but I do not know what to say. I have always understood Lady Henrietta deHavilland to be a rather remote and intellectual figure, yet now she seems to be fueled by pure emotion. I must admit that, deep down, I am starting to feel a little sorry for her, as if perhaps she is as much a victim of the game as the girls whose lives have been lost. In some strange way, I am starting to contemplate a new aim: instead of bringing Lady Red and the game crashing down, I could perhaps try to save her from this miserable existence.
"I am sorry," she says, pulling away a little. "I did not mean to..." She pauses, her lower lip trembling.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?"
She shakes her head, and I can tell that something is troubling her; she looks down at my lips for a moment, and then she leans closer and kisses me gently. Her tongue enters my mouth, but a few seconds later she pulls away.
"Do you always kiss every new Mr. Blue?" I ask.
"No," she says, a look of shock written across her face. "I make love to them all, but I have never..." She stares at me, before biting her bottom lip. "You must not speak of this to Mr. White," she says. "He is a dangerous man, and it would be better if he believed..."
I wait for her to answer. "If he believed what?" I ask eventually.
"I am so sorry," she says, turning away. "It would be for the best if we both pretend that none of this ever happened. Lady Red and Mr. Blue must not become emotionally attached. I have allowed myself a moment of weakness, and I would be eternally grateful if you might consider keeping this entire matter between just the two of us." After a moment, she turns back to face me. "You must promise me that you will remain professional at all times. The game does not tolerate such fripperies."
"My discretion is assured," I say, stunned by the way this encounter has developed.
"I hope so," she says. "The penalty for breaking the rules of the game is severe."
We both look over at the door as Mr. White enters the room. Still naked, he has removed his mask and there's a spattering of blood on his chest and shoulders.
"Did Clarice pass the test?" Lady Red asks him.
"Nearly," he replies.
"Nearly is not good enough," she says, turning to me. Somehow, she has recovered her composure in an instant, and her tears have completely dried away. "I had high hopes for that girl," she continues, "but evidently I was mistaken. Still, there is one silver lining in all of this. You can come with us, Mr. Blue, to dispose of the body. Although there is nothing on the matter in the book of rules, I always feel that a new player is only truly part of the group once he has helped us take one of the failed girls down to the river."
"I thought you told her she could leave?" I say, shocked at the thought of Clarice's death.
"We didn't say how she'd leave," Mr. White replies.
"You must help us with the body," Lady Red urges me. "Come. Join us."
"Of course," I reply, realizing that this is something I must do if I'm to maintain the pretense that I'm playing the game. I did not kill Clarice myself, so I feel no guilt in that regard; by helping to dispose of her body, I merely aim to persuade the others that I am t
ruly taking my role as Mr. Blue seriously. Only when I have fully ingratiated myself into the game, will I be able to gain sufficient information to end this whole charade. For now, I shall indeed have to make them believe that I am one of them.
And then I shall destroy this foul game from the inside.
Elly
Today
Emerging from the Tube station in Mayfair, I look up at the Castleton Hotel and I think about Mark sitting up in the penthouse, thinking that he'll never see me again. Somewhere deep inside, I have this little voice that's screaming at me to stop and to head back to Bristol; at the same time, I can't help myself. If this is a mistake, at least it's my mistake. I'll play along with this little game for a while, if only to find out what Mark really wants from me.
I walk through the front door of the hotel. The strangest thing is that, this time, I suddenly feel like I belong here.
Jonathan Pope
1896
Just before dawn, Mr. White and I carry Clarice's body down toward the river. She's wrapped in a large cloth bag, and I can feel through the fabric that her limbs are already starting to stiffen. My bad leg, which is starting to hurt a little, makes it hard for me to keep going, but eventually we reach a small wooden quay. There's no pause to mark Clarice's passing; Mr. White simply hauls his end of the bag over the edge, and I have no choice but to let go and watch as Clarice hits the water and sinks into the depths. There are a few ripples on the water, and some bubbles of air, but finally she is gone.
Mr. White turns to me for a moment, before walking back to the side of the quay. I get the feeling that he doesn't like me; it's as if he doesn't agree with Lady Red's decision to bring me into the fold, but it seems he lacks the ability or the willingness to challenge me directly. Ever since we got dressed and left the party, there has been a simmering tension in the air. There's something extremely menacing about Mr. White's demeanor, and I have no doubt that great violence lurks beneath his veneer of respectability. So dark and ill-meant is his expression, in fact, that it's somewhat hard to remember that this man is known throughout London as a respected Member of Parliament. If only his constituents knew the truth about his nocturnal activities.
"Another one dispatched to the deep," Lady Red says as we rejoin her at the side of the river.
"It's late," Mr. White says, turning and walking away. "I'll be in touch."
"He seems unhappy," I say once he is out of earshot.
"He's always unhappy," she replies, her gaze fixed on the water. "Tonight, though, he's in a particularly foul mood."
"Because of me?"
She takes a deep breath. "He doesn't trust you."
"I don't blame him."
"True," she says, "but he doesn't trust my judgment, and that's a bigger problem."
"Perhaps it's a mistake to bring me into your confidence," I say. "I mean, if it causes problems, it might be better to -"
"No," she says, turning to me. "He'll get used to it. Besides, I can't allow him to think he can challenge my authority. Among the three of us, I am the one who chooses new members." She shivers for a moment, and I immediately remove my coat and place it over her shoulders. "Thank you," she says, smiling at me.
"Come this way," I say, leading her back toward the road. "It's cold out here."
As we walk in silence, I find myself feeling uncertain as to Lady Red's motives. On the one hand, I still cannot trust her entirely, and it's possible that she is attempting to lull me into a false sense of security; on the other hand, there seems to be something very genuine about her tiredness and sadness, and I can't help thinking that she doesn't really enjoy playing the game. Up until tonight, I had written her off as some kind of sadistic fiend, ruling the other players with an iron fist, but now I have begun to see a whole new side to her.
"You must not become too involved, Mr. Pope," she says as we approach the bridge. "The players are required to maintain a professional and discreet relationship at all times. I'm sure you understand what I mean."
"I understand very little," I reply. "I must admit, I'm at a loss to see why the game is so important. It seems to give you nothing but heartache."
"You'll see," she says, stopping and turning to me. "You're at the start of a journey, Mr. Pope. The road ahead is going to be extremely difficult. Many have taken this route before, and their bodies have piled up one by one. There is something about you that makes me think you might be different, but it's very possible that I am merely deceiving myself. The most important thing is that you keep a clear head."
I stare at her for a moment. "So what happens next?"
"I shall send for you in the next few days," she continues. "You need to know how to proceed. Until then, you must begin to look around for suitable candidates. The game needs young women; it consumes them. As the new Mr. Blue, you have a responsibility to feed the game, but you must not be too eager. Wait until you find the right young woman. Test her. Explore her. Determine whether she is suitable to be taken deeper into the game. You saw this evening how Clarice fell apart once she was tested. No girl has ever gone further. If you can find the right girl..." She pauses for a moment. "If you can find the right girl, Mr. Pope, the game can end, and we can all be free."
"I shall try my best," I say, aware that such words sound cheap and empty.
"As for the kiss we shared earlier," she says, "I must admit that I was weak. I should never have allowed that to happen. You must promise me that you will never breathe a word of my mistake to anyone else."
"I promise."
"After tonight," she says, "it can never happen again. We must maintain a professional relationship, but..." She stares into my eyes. "I believe we can kiss one final time, if you wish."
"I do," I say, leaning closer. Our lips touch, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close to me. As our tongues meet, I have to fight the urge to slip my hands beneath the fabric of her dress. I know it's wrong, but at this exact moment, I desire nothing more than to take her home, make love to her, and then extricate her from this cursed game. As the kiss continues, I start to feel a curious wet sensation against my face; when I pull away, I see that tears are streaming down her cheeks.
"If you -" I start to say.
"Quiet," she says, her voice weak and faltering as she places a finger against my lips. "When we meet again, Mr. Blue, we shall both have put away these feelings."
"But if -"
"No!" she says firmly, sniffing back the tears. "Do not make this unnecessarily difficult."
"What if I resign?" I ask. "What if I change my mind about becoming Mr. Blue? I can take you away from here, away from the game. You don't have to play, not if you would rather be free."
She shakes her head. "There can be no going back for either of us. The only way to escape this thing is to move forward. The very best thing you can do right now is to find the right girl. Find the girl who can win the game. This is the only solution. Do you understand?"
I nod, realizing that she is totally committed to the game's complexities. If I am to free her, I must do it in a way that calms her mind. She believes herself to be tied to the game in a manner that precludes her escape, but I am determined to find a way to get her free. If I cannot simply pull her away, I shall have to do as she says; I shall have to find a girl who can win the game. Only then, once this pantomime is over, do I have a chance of saving her.
"We shall speak soon," she says, taking a deep breath before turning and hurrying away.
"Wait!" I call out. "I shall escort you home!" She does not reply, however, and I am left to watch as she disappears into the shadows of the night. After a moment, I turn and begin the long walk home. Of all the ways this night could have proceeded, I never considered the possibility I might get under Lady Red's skin and start to understand the mania that keeps her tied to the game. I walk slowly through the dark streets, and eventually the dawn's early rays begin to light the city. All around me, London is springing to life, but I can think of one thing, and one thing
only: the sadness in Lady Red's eyes as she kissed me, along with the possibility that I might one day lift that sadness and set us both free.
For a moment - just a brief, clear moment - it occurs to me that maybe I've fallen into her trap, that maybe this is exactly what she wanted me to feel. Quickly, however, I realize that such a notion is nonsense: I have, in truth, got through to the heart of the woman, and now I must save her by dragging her out of this nightmare and showing her that there is a way out of this infernal game.
Elly
Today
The door opens, and Mark - broken, battered, black and blue from the car crash - stands staring at me, looking completely shocked. I guess he didn't expect me to come back, not in a million years.
"Hi," I say, swallowing hard. "I..."
"You come back."
"I came back," I say with a smile.
He stares at me. "Why?"
"Because..." I frown, realizing I don't really know why I'm here. It's like I switched my brain off and just came on auto-pilot. "Because I feel like you were testing me," I say eventually, "and I don't like failing when people test me. And because I think that when you pushed me away, it was part of the test. Mr. White, the car crash... everything was part of the test."
He pauses, and then finally he steps aside. "You'd better come in," he says, his face seeming strangely blank.
Smiling, I step into his penthouse apartment. "I hope you realize what I've given up in order to come here," I say, my chest tingling with anticipation. I turn to him. "I hope this isn't a huge mistake."
"I hope so too," he replies, stepping closer and leaning in to kiss me.
Moments later, someone starts clapping. Pulling away from the kiss, I look across the room and see a woman standing by the window. Wearing a bright red dress, she's grinning at me as she continues to applaud. It takes a moment before I realize that I recognize her. It's Alice, the woman I bumped into in the street, and who I met again in the hotel lobby when I was coming to meet Mark.
