The God Game

by Jeffrey Round

  “It’s possible the people who were pressuring your husband may also be behind the disappearance of Tony Moran. That’s why I wanted to see you, in hopes that you might remember a name or some instance when your husband felt he was being unduly influenced by others. Do you have any idea what things he might have felt were amiss?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t confide much of his political life to me.” She turned to her sister. “Do you know, Doris?”

  “No. I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  They sat quietly subdued, as though the room’s inertia had robbed them of their movement.

  Dan looked over at them. “Is there any reason you can think of that Tony Moran would have carried your husband’s business card in his wallet?”

  Mrs. Wilkens shook her head. “No, none at all. It truly surprises me.”

  “Was Mr. Wilkens a gambler? Even occasionally?”

  The older woman laughed. It was as close as she’d come to showing a sense of humour. “Not a chance. If you knew John you would know how ridiculous the suggestion is.”

  “Had he many dealings with Simon Bradley?”

  “As few as possible, I believe. There was an article about potential future party leaders. Mr. Bradley ran a profile about John.”

  She looked to Doris again. Her sister nodded.

  “It wasn’t unkind to John,” she continued, “but in general I think John disliked the man.”

  She seemed to be holding back. Dan wondered if she might be afraid of revealing everything she knew in front of her sister. He took another tack.

  “Did he mention someone called the Magus, by any chance?”

  “The Magus? Like a wizard, you mean?” She stared blankly at him. “No, never.”

  Dan drained his cup and set it down. “All right, thank you, Mrs. Wilkens. I won’t bother you any longer, but if you think of anything else please call me.”

  Dan offered her his card. When he stood, she looked up.

  “If you’d like, I will go through my husband’s diaries and see if I can come up with some names of people for you to talk to.”

  Dan smiled. “I would very much appreciate that.”

  The conversation was over. The sister saw Dan to the door. There was a furtive look in her eyes. She put a hand on his sleeve.

  “John didn’t kill himself, Mr. Sharp. It wasn’t in him.” She glanced over her shoulder to be sure she couldn’t be overheard before continuing. “I don’t want to upset my sister, but he would never have done that.”

  “You might be surprised by the people you would never think such a thing of who actually do kill themselves. They seem to have it all together, then suddenly something slips out of place and their lives are threatened. Everything that matters to them disappears and they take what seems the only avenue out.”

  She shook her head. “We had a conversation not long before he died. We — the family — were going off for the holidays. He took a moment to wish me a happy Christmas. I told him I was sorry about what had happened. He said not to worry, because he had something that would clear his name. John wasn’t going without a fight, Mr. Sharp. He said he knew who was behind it and that he had an ally who would help make things right. He would never have given up until his name was cleared.”

  Dan watched the emotions come and go in her face. He wanted to reassure her, but there was nothing he could say that she needed to hear. “It’s good your sister has someone like you to be close to at times like these.”

  “Yes,” she said. “We hadn’t been in touch for some years. I came back at the right time.”

  “I’m sure she’s glad you did.”

  Eleven

  High Stakes

  Dan left the Wilkens house and cut across the boulevard. Trees overarched the street, branches crisscrossing in a cathedral of green. The neighbourhood was an oasis of calm, tucked away from rush-hour traffic and the high towers of commerce. It was like a fairy tale, a dream of Neverland, just holding its breath and waiting for the Big Bad Wolf to blow into town. It lulled you into thinking all was well with the world, that blue skies were the norm, forever staving off the cold, grey rain. Forget your troubles, come on, get happy. All you need is money.

  His cell buzzed. “Sharp.”

  “Hi, Dad!”

  “Hey! How’s it going in the land of grass and honey?”

  Ked’s laughter reached him from across the continent. “Don’t joke! Half my schoolmates are stoners.”

  “Yeah, but it’s legal there, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, nearly. Everyone jokes about how it’s B.C.’s second-biggest cash crop after lumber. Anyway, I’ve got my finals to worry about. I can’t mess up.”

  “Good. Don’t let yourself get distracted. So, what’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just wanted to be sure you’re still coming for the graduation. Charlie’s away, so he said you could have his room if you wanted. That way I’ll get to spend more time with you.”

  “Of course I’m still coming. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Ked the good shepherd — it was just like his son to check up on him and make sure all was as it should be. “I might just take you up on your offer to room with you. Hotel rates are out of this world these days.”

  “Cool. I’ll tell Charlie. So, what’s going on there?”

  “All good here. Nick and I are just finalizing plans for the wedding.”

  “Can’t wait!”

  “In fact, it’s good I’m coming to visit while I can still afford to travel. This event will bankrupt us. I’ve got a case on my hands that’s keeping me busy, but it won’t stop me from coming.”

  “You’re probably working too hard, as usual. You need to take a break once in a while.”

  “I’ll do my best to relax while I’m there and not try to solve other people’s problems.”

  “Ha ha.”

  It struck Dan that a short break from his routine before the wedding and the pressures of finding a new office was just what he needed. Life would be that much sweeter for a little relief, but after the wedding, he intended to take all his vacations with Nick.

  “By the way, I saw Trevor last weekend,” Ked told him.

  “How is he?”

  Dan didn’t want to say that Trevor was still unfinished business to him, or that he felt it would be unfair to Nick to keep in touch with an ex who had meant so much to him at one time.

  “He’s doing great. No new love interests in his life, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, that’s none of my business.”

  “He still lives on Mayne Island,” Ked persisted. “Alone. But he’s happy.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to call him once in a while.”

  Dan had an unsettled feeling, like pollywogs somersaulting in his stomach.

  “I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

  “Dad! C’mon! There’s no reason you shouldn’t talk to one another.”

  “No, you’re right. Maybe I’ll give him a call sometime.”

  “I told him you’re coming to B.C. He seemed excited.”

  “Ked!”

  “Don’t worry. I told him about Nick. I didn’t want to get his hopes up, in case you two decide to see one another while you’re here.”

  Until Nick, Trevor had been Dan’s most serious relationship. Ked had been hardest hit when they separated, asking for months afterward whether his father and Trevor might eventually get back together.

  A faint pulsing interrupted the line.

  “Oh, gotta go!” Ked said. “I’ve got another call coming through.”

  “Okay, talk to you soon.”

  “You mean see you soon,” Ked corrected as he hung up.

  Dan got in his car and headed to Little Portugal for the second time that week.
Rush hour had begun, but with a little adroit driving and careful avoidance of all major arteries, he knew he could get there in half an hour. Long gone were the days when a cross-town trip lasted fifteen minutes. Now a simple journey to the grocery store took nearly that long, and all major outings had to be planned well in advance. A neighbourhood hangout you actually enjoyed was considered a real find, appreciated for its rarity as much as for its ease of access.

  Hansen’s house was starting to look familiar. Peter opened the door warily to his knock. The corgi butler didn’t put in an appearance. Perhaps he’d been sedated and locked in a closet.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Expecting someone else?”

  “Not expecting, no.” Peter shook his head. “But that annoying journalist has been here twice today asking about Tony’s disappearance.”

  “Simon Bradley?”

  “That one, yes. Miserable sod. I shut the door in his face about an hour ago.”

  “Then you heard the news?”

  “What news?”

  “That Tony’s wallet was found in the Mount Pleasant Cemetery.”

  “Oh, god!” Peter’s intake of breath was audible. “I closed the door on him before he could say anything.”

  “It was just his wallet,” Dan added quickly. “There was no trace of Tony all through the rest of the grounds.”

  “Please, no!” Peter ran a hand through his hair. Unlike Mrs. Wilkens’s grief, Hansen’s was tangible.

  Dan put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no reason to suspect anything worse than that at present.”

  “It’s just —” Hansen stopped and shook his head. “I cut off his funds and I’ve been worried ever since about where he might be sleeping. I thought it would drive him home, but this …” He trailed off, his hands waving airily in the presumed direction of a fund-less Tony wandering in search of accommodation. “Come in. Please.”

  He ushered Dan into the study and indicated a chair.

  “I know I asked whether Tony was in touch with John Wilkens —” Dan began.

  “He wasn’t, as far as I know,” Peter interjected.

  “John’s business card was in Tony’s wallet.”

  Peter looked up with confused gaze. “Why would he have that?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “There’s no reason they should have been in touch with one another.”

  “Okay, let me ask again. Why do you think Tony gambled away all that money? Was he trying to punish you for something?”

  Peter’s composure returned, along with his arrogance. “I told you before. I hired you to find Tony, not to accuse him of something. Apart from stupidity, of course, and I can do that myself.”

  “Then tell me what you know. What about those text messages on his cellphone? Have you thought about why this Magus would have anything to do with Tony?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out. As I said, I’ve heard of the Magus, yes, but nothing more.”

  “Nothing at all? Maybe something about how he operates? No — wait. Back up a second. Is it a he? Does anyone know for sure?”

  Peter shook his head. “I never really wondered about it because I never took it seriously. I suppose it could be a she. It could even be a they, for all I know. It’s all just rumours, nothing concrete. Mysterious things happen to damage the reputations of people in power. Not leaders, precisely, but public figures who are seen to be up-and-coming. People you might have thought were above suspicion.”

  “Is there anything obvious about them? A way to tell who’s being targeted?”

  Peter’s face betrayed a moment of uncertainty. “I really wish I knew. From what I can see they all have some sort of buzz about them. You know — the next big thing.”

  “Did it happen to you? You said that coming out hurt your campaign chances in the last election —”

  “That was my own doing,” Peter interrupted. “I chose to come out. There was no threat. No one forced me to do it. Besides, I wasn’t the first openly gay candidate to run.”

  “But you didn’t win. Maybe someone was counting on that.”

  Peter shook his head. “Not likely. In any case, I just try to keep my nose clean and do my job. I’m not about to do something stupid that might cost me another election.”

  “Another election? You’re running again? You never mentioned it.”

  Peter gave him an exasperated look. “You’re not my press agent. But, yes — I’m running again. I’ve been told my chances of winning a seat in the legislature as an openly gay candidate are good this time. I’ve got the party’s full backing.”

  “But that might be precisely why someone contacted Tony.” Dan’s mental wheels were spinning. “What if someone is trying to upset your campaign?”

  “Before it even starts?”

  “Has it started?”

  “Barely. I’ve discussed my intentions with Alec Henderson and the premier. They’ve both given me their blessings. I’ll make the announcement next week.”

  “Maybe someone got wind of it and wants to subvert your campaign.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a contender. You’re young, you’re energetic, and everyone knows you’ll grab the bull by the horns and run with it if you get in. Maybe someone sees you as a direct threat.”

  Peter pondered this. “So you think someone wants to skewer my campaign and that Tony is part of the picture?”

  “He’s your husband, so he certainly reflects on your personal life.” Dan paused. “Think about it. When you’re a minority, whether visible or invisible, you always have to try harder.”

  Peter shrugged. “I’ve spent my life being discriminated against as a gay man. I don’t need a lecture on marginalization.”

  “No, maybe not,” Dan said. “But maybe you need a reminder of your vulnerable points. Right now, it seems that Tony is a weak area in your profile.”

  Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve been trying to tell him that for months. If I run for a seat then we both have to keep our reputations clean. He’s like me by proxy.”

  “Exactly. Someone may be trying to run him off course to make you look bad. Gambling is a sore point on Tony’s scorecard —”

  “No kidding!”

  “Maybe it has to do with the money itself. That text on his phone told Tony not to worry because the money would be there.”

  Peter held up a finger. “You said Tony gambled away twenty thousand dollars last month. I just checked my records. That’s significantly higher than what was missing from our accounts.”

  “That’s what happened to John Badger Wilkens, wasn’t it? Money went missing, but his wife insists he’s innocent.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yes, right before coming here. That doesn’t mean he was innocent, but she’s denying it for all she’s worth and I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. John Wilkens was definitely an up-and-coming type in his party.”

  “He certainly had a buzz. There was talk that he could become Speaker of the House. And possibly party leader.”

  “So, if someone set Wilkens up for a fall, then maybe someone is setting you up as well.”

  “But why? Whether John was guilty or not, we represent opposite interests on the political spectrum. His party is everything I’m against — affluence, influence, position. Why would they set up both of us?”

  “Maybe to help a third party. To split the vote for someone coming down the middle. Someone in the NDP, for instance.”

  “What can I do?” Peter sank his head onto his hands. “If they’re trying to get at me through Tony, then I’m fucked!”

  “Not necessarily,” Dan said. “If we can find out who’s doing this then we can put a stop to it before it affects your career.”

  Peter gave
him an appraising stare. “I hope you’re wrong, but I’m afraid you may be right. Despite what anyone may think of me, I really want to be a good politician. Someone who puts people first.”

  “I’ll do what I can for you,” Dan told him. “But you need to help me by telling me all you know and everything you hear. Can you promise me that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Twelve

  Gun, Poison, Rope

  Dan heard a faint beeping. It reached into his dreams, disturbing his sleep. He rolled over and looked at the clock: 3:23 a.m. Nick snored softly beside him, a mini furnace emanating waves of heat. He’d come in late from his shift, sometime after Dan had gone to bed. But that wasn’t what woke him.

  He looked to the bedside table, where a faint glow was just fading from his cellphone. He picked it up. It felt warm to the touch, but there was no alert for a text or an incoming message. Curious. Just then it buzzed again.

  “Sharp.”

  He listened for a moment, then heard someone say, “Sharp.”

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said tersely, before realizing it was the echo of his own voice, like some transatlantic blip following him across the seas back to his own ear.

  It was an eerie moment. He held the phone for a second longer, then put it down again. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been desperate enough to call in the middle of the night. Unconquerable fears, suicidal urges, suddenly remembered clues as to the possible whereabouts of a missing loved one. Once even a drunken request for his recipe for Chicken Marbella from a lonely friend. All reasons were valid and worthy of attention, as far as Dan was concerned.

  He lay there adjusting to his surroundings, wrenched back from the images of a dream where he’d been struggling underwater. His car had gone off a bridge. The water was cold. It stopped up his mouth and lungs till he couldn’t breathe. Instead of struggling, he just sat there, immobile, waiting for everything to go on. Some people lived their entire lives underwater without recognizing it. He thought of John Wilkens, who had come up for air, gasping for breath, claiming to be suspicious of irregular goings-on behind the scenes, only to lose his reputation, his job, and finally his life.