by Amy Cross
"Of course I didn't," I reply. "I loved her!"
"That's as may be," he says, "but my belief in your innocence is based not on some sympathetic faith in the power of love, but on the sheer knowledge that the victims in this particular instance were killed by someone who had been hired by Mr. Blake. Now, ordinarily, as an officer of the law, I would naturally have pursued my suspicions with Mr. Blake directly, but since he's a rather high-up gentleman, I have to be a little bit more careful, and that is why you find yourself sitting here with me this evening".
I stare at him for a moment. Despite his round, ordinary face and his general countenance of guileless efficiency, Laverty seems to have stumbled onto the very heart of the conspiracy surrounding the game. To say that I'm shocked would be an understatement, and I can't help but wonder if somehow this could all be part of some elaborate extension of the game. Is Laverty just another actor on a stage that's been controlled by shadowy figures?
"It was my boss, Mr. Matthews, who first got me onto the whole thing," Laverty continues.
"Matthews?" I reply, thinking back to events that took place a decade ago. "Matthews of Scotland Yard?"
"I believe you had some encounters with him," he says.
"He was a good man," I say. "An irritation, for sure, but a good man. I was there the night he died, but there was nothing I could do to save him. The game already had its claws in his back, and I merely had to watch as his body was dispatched to the depths of the river".
"I suspected as much," Laverty replies. "He was getting too close to the truth, and he underestimated the lengths people would go to in order to keep things hushed up. Our superior at the time, Captain Elton, was keen for him to keep out of the whole business. It didn't seem like there was much point protesting at the time, and then of course a couple of years later Captain Elton himself was found dead. Suicide, apparently, although not many believe such a ridiculous claim. The point is, dark forces are seeking to protect the core of the game, and after what happened to Matthews, I'm not going to take any unnecessary risks".
"Then why not walk away?" I ask. "Why subject yourself to this danger?"
He pauses, clearly feeling uncomfortable. "A long time ago, I was called to the scene of a murder in Whitechapel. This is going back ten, eleven years. It was one of the Ripper killings. This young woman had been opened up and parts of her had been removed. You should have seen the look on her face. Her mouth was wide open, like she was still trying to scream even after she was dead. I tried closing her eyes, but they kept re-opening. I don't mind admitting that the look on that girl's face affected me a great deal". He takes a deep breath. "And then years later, I was looking into an apparently random complaint against Dr. Cecil Harlingham, and I was looking through some of his papers, and I realized that his handwriting matched the handwriting in the letters sent by the Ripper. As I continued to look into it, I discovered that Harlingham was linked to some kind of game, and I kept going from there".
"I've heard similar claims about Cecil Harlingham," I reply.
"If even some of my theories are correct," he continues, "the game has been responsible for scores of murders over a period spanning nearly a century, possibly even longer. Girl after girl, slaughtered because she didn't pass a test administered by psychopaths. Killers usually work alone, but this trinity..." He pauses again, clearly overcome with anger. "I'm willing to put my life at risk if it means that the game will finally be stopped, but I'm going to need your help, Mr. Pope".
"Harrison Blake must die," I say firmly.
"It must be by the sword of justice," he replies.
"That won't work," I say. "He's too well protected. The man has connections in the highest offices of the land".
"But if the weight of evidence is sufficiently great -"
"It'll be burned," I reply, "and you'll be killed. These people deal in violence, and it's through violence that we must get back at them. The only thing that'll stop Harrison Blake is a bullet to the head or a blade to the heart. We must act quickly, while he's still working to find a new Lady Red and a new Mr. Blue. If we give him time to get his act together, we'll have no chance. He's weak at the moment. Not very weak, but perhaps enough for us to get close". I pause for a moment. "Are you sure he thinks I'm dead?"
"Absolutely," Laverty replies. "There aren't many things I'm sure about right now, but I put a lot of effort into making your death seem as realistic as possible".
"Then we have one advantage," I say. "Blake will be on the lookout for a lot of things, but a dead man is unlikely to be in his thoughts. At the same time, we must be cautious. I know you're confident, but there's still a chance that he suspects I'm alive. If that's the case, he'll come looking for me, and you can bet he'll be onto you as well". I pause as I realize that although I can't absolutely trust Laverty, he's already done enough to make me think that perhaps he'll be a useful ally. After all, he's saved my life, and I can hardly see why Harrison Blake would frame me for Henrietta's murder and then arrange to have me plucked from the gallows. "We must move fast," I add. "Time is not on our side".
"What do you suggest?" he asks.
"We must kill Blake," I say. "It's the only option. Right now, he's the only player. Henrietta's dead, so there's no Lady Red, and obviously I'm no longer Mr. Blue. Blake's going to be looking to recruit new associates, but it's not an easy matter. Surely, if we kill him, the game will have lost all three of its participants and will be over".
"We can't simply murder a man in cold blood," Laverty replies, with a look of horror in his eyes.
"You can't," I say, "but I can. After everything he's done, I'll be only too glad to sink a dagger into his chest. I'll need to get close, though, and that's where you come into the equation. I got into Westminster once before, but this time I need to slip in unnoticed. Can you get me past the guards?"
He nods.
"History will absolve us," I reply. "We might be seen as common murderers at first, but if you have the evidence ready to go public, we'll be hailed as heroes. The notoriety of the game will live on in history, but the deaths will stop".
"Then we must strike," he says. "We'll move for him tomorrow. All being well, the game will be over in less than twenty-four hours and no-one will ever have to suffer again".
Elly
Today
"Are you okay?"
The words drift past me, as if they're intended for someone else. Blinking a couple of times, I imagine for a moment that I can actually see those three little words - Are you okay? - floating in the still air, slowly curling around and then banging, one by one, into my face.
"Elly, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say quickly, before I even have time to consider a proper answer. I pull the dressing gown a little more tightly around my sore and tired body as I hear his footsteps coming closer. I'm standing in Mr. White's brightly-lit kitchen, with a slowly-cooling cup of coffee in front of me. It's 8am, but I can barely even remember what day it is, and all thoughts of time are out the window.
"If it's any consolation," he says, filling a glass of water and then taking a drink, "your reaction is perfectly normal. What you just experienced was unusual, by any standards. Mr. Blue told me you'd be a tough cookie to crack, and he wasn't kidding, was he? You're sturdier than you look, Elly". He pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on me as if he's an animal hunting its prey in the wilderness. "By my reckoning," he continues, "you had eleven orgasms during our five-hour session. Would that be correct?"
I nod. The truth is, I kind of stopped counting after a while. Even now, half an hour after I was taken out of the contraption and brought through to recover, I'm still feeling kind of giddy. Besides, while the first orgasms were strong and powerful, after a while my body began to get sore and the final few rushes of pleasure were kind of slightly painful.
"I like giving pleasure to women," Mr. White says. "I know it might sound strange, but in sexual situations, giving pleasure to others is actually more important to me than my o
wn needs. You might have noticed, for example, that I failed to achieve orgasm. The truth is, I didn't even try. Such things are no longer of paramount importance to me, and I no longer feel the need to pretend. I hope you understand that this doesn't mean that I failed to enjoy our session".
I nod. Words seem too hard right now. The idea of taking a thought, arranging it into words and then saying those words out loud... Until I recover from everything that just happened, I can't even contemplate the act of talking.
"I'm impressed that you didn't ask me to stop," he says. "There were a couple of moments where you seemed as if you were on the verge of backing down, but to your credit you kept going. That's very good, Elly. I have to admit, you surprised me a great deal today".
I nod again. Right now, nodding is about all I can manage.
"Take off the dressing gown," he says suddenly.
Without really thinking about what he's asking, I slip the gown off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I wait as he comes over to me and examines a bruise on my shoulder.
"I hope you're not feeling too battered," he says after a moment.
I shake my head. The truth is, with most of my body feeling numb, the few patches of bruised pain are actually a relief. In a way, I wish I was upset, but I'm slowly starting to realize that I actually liked what happened in that room. Sure, I'd rather it had been Mark who'd been in there with me, but I still feel as if I discovered something new about myself today; I discovered that I have a dark side, a side that likes a little pain sprinkled in with my pleasure. It's almost as if I've been introduced to a strange version of myself, and instead of recoiling in horror, I've embraced that duplicate and allowed it to become a part of me.
"You're slightly torn," he says, suddenly placing a finger at the edge of my vagina. "I'm not sure when it happened. Nothing too much, but it might be sore for a few days".
"It's fine," I say quietly.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he continues. "It's an important part of the game, Elly. I need to know how you're reacting to everything that's happening".
"I like it," I say.
"You do?"
I nod.
"So you'd do it again?"
I pause. I feel like a normal person would decline, but I'm starting to realize more and more that I'm not normal. My desires, the things that turn me on, the things that get me to orgasm... I've always thought I was a normal, vanilla kind of girl, but it's as if I'm slowly being turned to face my dark side, and my dark side is smiling at me and promising untold pleasures yet to come. Apart from the fact that my body feels wrecked and ruined, I think I would do this all again. That's how weird I seem to have become.
"This was just one part of what I have to offer," he explains. "There are other devices, other rooms, other methods. You've had a taster, but if you're to win the game, I'm afraid you're going to have to venture much further into the dark with me. Do you understand, Elly?"
I nod.
"And are you okay with that?"
I nod again.
"Do you..." He pauses. "Do you enjoy it?"
I nod.
"Does it turn you on to think that we're going to try other things?"
I nod. It's true.
"Do you like the fact that it turns you on?"
I pause. The truth is, I don't know.
"Some people find this kind of thing hard," he continues, "because they don't like it. Other people, like you, find it hard because they do like it, and because they think that they're becoming someone else in the process. It's tempting to think of yourself as a butterfly, emerging from a cocoon and becoming something completely new, but that's a rather banal metaphor. You can't divide the two instances so easily. These desires have always been within you, Elly, and that's the reason you've always found the normal world to be so unsatisfactory. Whereas other people are easily thrilled, you've always felt a little numb. Or am I wrong? Have I completely misunderstood your personality?"
"You're right," I say, forcing myself to smile.
He pats me on the shoulder. "You know, you're lucky. The game has changed, but in the past, former holders of the Mr. White title were much more vicious. There are some real horror stories from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. There was one man in particular, by the name of Harrison Blake, who went too far. He was, by all accounts, a depraved and dangerous man. Also a respected politician, which may or may not explain a few things. Anyway, everything we've done today has been tame by his standards. He'd leave blood on the walls, Elly. He was an unrefined, uncivilized monster when it came to the game. Fortunately, things have changed a little. Not a lot, but definitely a little. I hope that gives you some satisfaction".
I nod, before glancing over at the clock. I'm tired, and I kind of hope that Mark comes and picks me up soon.
"Do you love Mr. Blue, Elly?"
I turn to Mr. White.
"It's a simple question. Do you love him?"
"I..."
Silence.
"You're scared of giving the wrong answer," he continues with a smile, "but there's a part of you that doesn't want to deny love completely, isn't there?"
"I don't know what love is," I say after a moment.
"Well, that could also be a problem". He pauses. "It's okay, Elly. Love isn't a part of the game, but it's by no means banned. There have been instances in the past where players fell in love with one another. Of course, it has always ended badly, but that doesn't mean it can't work out eventually. Do you think he loves you in return?"
"I don't know".
"Of course you don't. Mr. Blue is a very complicated man, Elly. Do you know much about his past?"
I shake my head.
"Have you ever asked about his parents? His siblings?"
"No".
"It's a very sad story," he continues. "Obviously it's not for me to tell you the gory details, and I doubt that he'll will ever open up about it. Let's just say for now that he went through some horrific experiences when he was younger, and I'm sure that even the most casual psychiatric examination would bring up a whole host of deep, dark wounds. A man like Mr. Blue, at least the current Mr. Blue, can never be healed, Elly. If you're the kind of girl who wants to make her man happy, you should be aware that you have no chance with him. That sadness that you see in his eyes... It's never going to go away. It's there for good, and the more you try to help him, the deeper he'll sink into the mess of his memories".
"He's coming to pick me up," I say.
"Later," Mr. White replies, his tone suddenly becoming a little darker. "We have the second half of our session to complete first".
"Second half?" I say, starting to panic.
"You didn't think we were done, did you?" he asks with a smile. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, Elly. This little chat is just a breather at the halfway point. I'm going to take you into one of the other rooms and really show you what I can do".
I smile weakly, but the truth is that my body already feels extremely weak. I don't know if I can handle another session with Mr. White right now.
"Or do you want to quit?" he asks.
"No," I say firmly, despite the tightening sensation in my chest. It's as if someone has reached through my ribcage, grabbed my heart, and started slowly turning it.
"Brave girl," he says, putting an arm around my bare shoulder and leading me over to another door. "What you're about to experience," he continues, "is something so extreme, that only one girl has ever lasted the whole hour, and she was a mess by the end. I don't mean to frighten you, Elly, but I feel you should be warned. If you think the first part of today's session was a challenge, I'm afraid you're about to have your sense of reality pushed back. You'll have orgasms, of course, but they'll be just a by-product of the greater experience. If you're the girl who's destined to win the game, this next room is going to change you forever. Are you ready?"
I nod.
"I hope you enjoy it," he says. "I've come to like you, Elly, and I feel that it'd be
a damn shame if you dropped away at such a late stage. If you get through the next hour, Mr. Blue is going to be seriously impressed".
"Let's do it," I say, reaching out for the door handle.
"That's the spirit," he replies.
Pushing the door open, I stare straight ahead and for a moment I'm not really sure what I'm seeing. I take a step forward, trying to make sense of all the conflicting images and sounds that are suddenly rushing at me. It's as if my senses are under attack, and my mind can't make sense of the scene before me. It's impossible to understand how I can possibly fit into this scene, but as I hear the door shut, I realize that somehow I've got to find a way. Looking up at the vast shape that's coming toward me, I instinctively drop to my knees. My heart is racing and threatening to leap out of my chest. Somewhere nearby, Mr. White is laughing.
Jonathan Pope
1901
Standing in the small, poorly-lit room deep within the basement of New Scotland Yard, I stare at the pile of books. There must be thirty at least, and it's almost as if they've been left to rot down here in the bowels of the building. Water drips from the ceiling, and I can hear rats scurrying nearby, while the books themselves are resting on a desk that looks like it might collapse at any moment.
"Diaries," Laverty says, stepping past me and walking over to the table. "I collected them over the years from various cases I was investigating. Each of these diaries belong to a girl who went missing, and each of them makes some kind of reference, either direct or indirect, to an element of the game. I was supposed to have burned them a long time ago, but Matthews and I managed to hide them away. Captain Elton wasn't keen on us investigating, but we slipped the whole thing past him. Until Matthews died, anyway. That's when things become more serious and I had to be a lot more careful".
