The Game Changer

by Louise Phillips

  He thought about Carl and his other friends. None of them had done any real living. Most were still at home, their parents doing everything for them. What was the harm in going to the island? Aoife had said he could help out around the place. He would be fed, have a place to stay … The prospect seemed more appealing when his mum knocked on the door again.

  ‘Addy, are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, honest.’ This time his tone sounded less hostile. It wasn’t her fault. Unlike Adam, she had always been there for him. It had been a long time since he’d thought about the summer he’d spent with Carl’s parents at their house in Cork. He couldn’t have been any more than nine years old at the time. Carl’s father was putting up a wooden fence around the site. Addy had watched him as he worked, Carl’s mother, every now and then, bringing her husband cold drinks. Addy remembered staring at Carl’s father’s Adam’s apple, as he swallowed the liquid fast. There had been a kind of primitive power about the man, the kind he wished he had in his life. He didn’t dwell on not having a father, but when he and Carl were given the job of carrying the wooden stakes over one by one, and Carl’s father patted Carl on the head, he wished he’d had a dad.

  Now, with Aoife going away, he felt left behind. He’d have to start taking risks, and if that meant going to the island, then that was what he was going to do.

  Kate

  IT WAS LATE BY THE TIME KATE PUT CHARLIE TO BED. She regretted having to cancel her dinner with Malcolm, especially as it had been less than an hour before they were due to meet, but with Adam working, getting in a babysitter at such short notice felt like too much hassle. And the note wasn’t far from her mind. It seemed sinister, imposing on her, calling out to her from behind the locked study door, pulling her thoughts like a magnet. Adam had promised he would have it checked for prints and DNA, but part of her already knew he wouldn’t find anything.

  Malcolm, it turned out, had already heard about Mason’s death. Such a dreadful tragedy, he had said. They weren’t close, and she wasn’t sure, but something about the way he had described Mason’s relationship with her father as professional, rather than social, irked her. Was he alluding to something? Her father had been a lecturer: what could he possibly have had professionally in common with a politician? And, for some reason, she felt Malcolm wanted her to ask more, which was partly why she hadn’t. She was being childish, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Mum.’ Charlie rubbed his eyes as she closed The Chamber of Secrets, his second Harry Potter book.

  ‘Yes, honey.’

  ‘Why don’t Adam and Addy like each other?’

  ‘It’s not that, Charlie. It’s just that sometimes when people care about each other deep down, they need to work stuff out.’

  ‘I like Addy.’

  ‘I know you do, and he likes you.’ She pulled the duvet up before leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

  ‘Mum, what’s your favourite insect?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.’

  ‘Think, then.’

  ‘Okay, let’s see … It would have to be a butterfly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they’re beautiful, and they have lots of different colours and patterns, and they’re gentle, and they remind me of summer.’

  ‘That’s a lot of reasons. Do you have any more?’

  She knew he was buying time. ‘Just one.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Because they start life one way, and then they become beautiful.’

  ‘A caterpillar, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mum, they have to eat themselves first. They make this cocoon, and then they eat all the bits. At first it turns into soup, but the protein in the soup makes them grow fast, and that’s when they get eyes and legs and wings.’

  ‘And how do you know all this?’

  ‘I learned it in school, but a butterfly isn’t my favourite. Everyone picks a butterfly.’

  ‘So what’s your favourite?’ She checked the time on the Mickey Mouse clock. It was nearly nine thirty, and Adam still hadn’t called.

  ‘A firefly.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because a firefly reminds me of Addy,’ he said triumphantly.

  ‘Addy?’

  ‘They shine from the inside. Teacher says, not everyone can see their light, but I do when Addy plays with me, which is why I like him even though Adam doesn’t see the good bits.’

  ‘He does, sweetheart.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t, but that’s not his fault.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Addy doesn’t show them to him, so it’s hard.’

  ‘I see. At least, I think I do.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mum, don’t look so worried. Some day Addy will let him see them, and they won’t argue any more.’

  She rubbed his cheek. ‘I hope you’re right, clever clogs. Now, settle down or you’ll be falling asleep in school tomorrow.’

  ‘Night, Mum. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too.’ Then, changing her tone from soft to serious, she said, ‘Now go to sleep.’

  He turned his back to her, pulling the duvet over his head as she closed the door. She turned on the light in the hall, knowing he liked to see the light coming under the door at night.

  She checked the time again, deciding she would give Adam another half an hour before phoning him. As she walked into the study and took the note from the desk drawer, she decided to concentrate on the articles that formed parts of it, rather than the cut-out words, but the columns didn’t make any sense. Each sentence had been tapered off before the finish, and whoever had cut out the shapes had been careful not to reveal which newspaper it was either, or any other detail, including a publication date. Her training told her that everything about it, including the envelope it came in, mattered. She also knew Adam wouldn’t be impressed with her touching it without wearing protective gloves, but her reaction earlier on, when she was taken by surprise, would have eradicated any worthwhile forensic evidence. She would need to be more careful next time, if there was a next time.

  When she heard the knock at the apartment door, she assumed it was Adam, having forgotten his key, but leaving the study, she hesitated before opening the door, looking through the peephole instead. She was surprised to see Malcolm on the other side. Opening the door, she stood back, staring at him.

  ‘Are you okay, Kate?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘I was concerned about you. Earlier on, you seemed frazzled.’

  ‘Did I?’ She realised he was looking beyond her, towards the study.

  ‘Doing extra homework?’ he asked.

  ‘I guess you could call it that.’ Turning, she closed the study door.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Sorry. Of course – how rude of me.’ She stood back to let him pass.

  He walked towards the living area, and as she shut the front door, she asked, ‘How did you get into the communal hallway?’

  ‘Someone was leaving so I slipped in. Why?’

  ‘No reason. I just wanted to make sure the key code pad was still working.’

  ‘You shouldn’t rely on that for security, Kate.’

  ‘Why not?’

  They stood face to face in the living room.

  ‘It isn’t reliable.’ He removed his coat, placing it over the couch’s arm rest, and sat down. ‘Most people use number association or both, as part of their passwords. We have so many logins these days that it’s not unusual for a person to use the same password or a similar one for all kinds of things.’

  She sat down opposite. ‘I don’t get you.’

  ‘I could be mistaken, Kate, but for all your expertise, I doubt you’re very different from others when it comes to creating codes. People will use the same words or numbers for their computer login, alarm code, bank cash card, or anything else that requires digits. It’s too difficult to keep a range of different ones in our heads, and wr
iting them down can be risky.’

  ‘So, you’re assuming I use the same code for everything.’

  ‘Most people do.’

  ‘Well, even if I did, it would be my code.’

  ‘Yes, but then there’s the use of association too. You know the kind of thing, names of people, places or the year we were born. These are all important in how we remember things.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Is that really necessary, Kate? I’m sorry now I brought it up.’

  ‘Humour me. I’m interested.’

  ‘Fine.’ He leaned back in the couch. ‘If you insist.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘What people don’t realise is that our fingers, as well as our brains, remember these codes. It’s called muscle memory, and it’s not surprising, considering how many times we use the same combination over and over again. I can work out codes simply by watching how a person uses their keyboard, and you’d be surprised how many people choose their own name or the words pass or login.’

  ‘That’s very observant of you, Malcolm.’

  ‘Being observant is useful in my profession, as it is in yours.’ Kate made a mental note to change the code as soon as Adam got home. ‘Sorry, Malcolm, I don’t mean to sound critical. It’s been a tough day.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘Malcolm, I was thinking about what you said earlier on.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘How creating physical references can conjure up all sorts of possibilities that may not exist.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘You know a lot about my dad?’

  ‘Your father, Kate, was a bit of an enigma.’

  There it was again, that critical tone. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He was fond of puzzles. It was one of his survival tactics, not letting others know what he was really thinking.’

  ‘Survival – that’s a rather strong word.’

  ‘Perhaps, but it sums up how he used to be, always wanting to keep others guessing. I doubt even your mother knew him fully.’

  Kate wasn’t sure why, but Malcolm’s last sentence made sense to her. How much did she know about her father?

  She was still lost in thought when he asked, ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Then let sleeping dogs lie.’

  ‘You’re not usually a man for clichés.’

  ‘Sometimes they’re appropriate.’

  ‘I guess.’

  He stood up, walked over to sit beside her on the couch and took her hand. ‘Kate, you do know you’re very important to me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If anything is troubling you, I want you to know that you can trust me.’

  ‘Thanks, Malcolm. That means a lot.’

  ‘You’re very like him, you know.’

  ‘My father, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. He was often far too stubborn for his own good.’

  ‘Do you think I’m stubborn?’

  ‘At times, yes, I do. It’s the fighter in you.’

  ‘That’s partly an act, you know.’

  ‘I doubt it, Kate.’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s been times lately when I’ve felt strong and others, when I’ve not been so sure.’

  ‘You’re only human. I’ve always watched out for you. You do know that?’

  ‘I do, but it’s all the bits I don’t know that trouble me most.’

  The Game Changer

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS

  20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Confidential Record: 121A

  Everyone has occasions in their life when they have to trust others, even if previously people have let them down.

  Relationships can turn out very differently from how a person first expects them to be. People may even ask themselves why it took so long to unmask the true self of another, or why they stayed in an obviously bad relationship for a protracted period of time.

  The answer is simple. People can be manipulated, controlled and convinced to believe almost anything, and when they do, the subject’s mind will shut out the truth. Once a person is persuaded of a particular belief, it is far harder to change this view than to reaffirm or compound it. The 20 Steps Programme could easily have been 19 or 21, but subjects relate better to certain numbers. Scoring 89 per cent in a test is arguably better than 88 per cent but 90 per cent has a far nicer ring to it.

  Convincing people to kill or to take their own life is a process. Some find it more tempting than others, while for many it will require higher stakes to tip them over the edge.

  NOTE: KILLING IS PARTLY A NEED FOR CONTROL. THE MORE YOU DO IT, THE MORE YOU WANT TO DO IT, UNTIL ONE DAY, KILLING ONE PERSON AT A TIME IS NO LONGER ENOUGH.

  (Page 1 of 1)

  Kate

  A NOISE MADE KATE BOLT UPRIGHT ON THE COUCH. She must have fallen asleep. A small table lamp lit one corner of the living room. She heard the noise again. Someone was turning a key in the front door but it was jamming. The door to the hall was open, and she could see Charlie’s door.

  What if the sender of the note was taking it a step further? What if they had somehow managed to get a copy of the key? It was then that she heard the front door creaking, as if in slow motion. She jumped up from the couch, seeing the front door opening a few inches at a time. She’d never make it to Charlie’s room in time. Looking around her, she grabbed the first thing resembling a weapon: a glass paperweight from the coffee table. Hiding behind the living-room door, she heard the front door close. The intruder switched off the light in the hall. Christ, she thought, someone is actually breaking in, they are actually inside the apartment, and as she thought this, she also realised that they would see the lamp on in the living room. She held her breath, ready to bring the paperweight down as hard as she could as soon as they passed the door. But there were no footsteps, only the sound of another door opening. Charlie’s. Jesus, she screamed inside her head and, like a wild person, she ran out into the hall.

  ‘Christ, Kate, what are you doing?’

  At first she didn’t say anything, taking in Adam’s large frame. ‘Why did you turn out the light?’ she barked.

  ‘I thought you were asleep. I was checking in on Charlie.’

  ‘But the hall light is always left on.’

  ‘Okay, okay – calm down,’ he whispered. ‘I forgot.’

  She rubbed her eyes. ‘I must have had a bad dream.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I remember someone was chasing me, but then when I looked around, I couldn’t see them. They’d disappeared.’ She rubbed her eyes again.

  He took the paperweight out of her hand, gesturing for her to go back into the living room. He followed, asking, ‘What else happened in this dream?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember much more of it.’ She turned to him, asking out of the blue, ‘Did you have any luck contacting Addy?’ It felt such a random, yet oddly normal thing to ask.

  ‘Kate, are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘Let’s put on another couple of lights.’

  Initially, the brightness felt oddly intrusive to her, at odds with her half-dream state, but then her mind settled. What she had feared didn’t exist, it was only a dream.

  ‘That’s what I call a close encounter,’ he joked, gesturing at the paperweight.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘And Addy? I was asking you about Addy.’

  ‘It seems, Kate, I’ve made a career of putting people into prison, while my son is intent on locking himself into one. According to his mother, he’s been in his bedroom for most of the day.’

  ‘He’ll come round. Give him time.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he replied, ‘but right now, I need a hug.’

  It was him, rather than her, who did the hugging, and Kate felt as if he was trying to hold on to her for too long. Almost as if he knew something he wasn’t saying. The moment she t
hought this, she chided herself. Why was she suspicious of everyone?

  ‘How’s the Michael O’Neill case going?’ she asked instead. ‘It gets more complicated by the hour.’

  ‘Do you have any more information on his mysterious meetings?’

  ‘Not so far, but the guy certainly knew a lot of people.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you get to his age without gaining a number of acquaintances along the way.’

  ‘Or enemies, Kate.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘As of late this afternoon, we’ve been looking at potential blackmail.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Michael O’Neill made large cash withdrawals from his bank account over the last few months – they added up to a hundred thousand euros to be exact.’

  ‘Cash?’

  ‘Yeah, multiples of five thousand – the bank should have noticed it, but each time it was below the threshold for irregular transactions. There were a few questions asked, mainly because they thought he had plans for investing the money elsewhere.’

  ‘And did he?’

  ‘Not that we know of.’

  ‘It’s sounding like one of those investigations that keep gaining legs.’

  ‘I know.’ He paused. ‘You’re very pale.’

  ‘Am I? Sorry, it must be tiredness.’

  ‘Or that note?’

  ‘Wait there,’ she said, ‘I’ll get it.’

  A moment later she was back, placing the envelope and the note on the table. She watched as he took in the message, then asked, ‘Any more ideas on what it means, Kate?’

  ‘As I said earlier, it might be a disgruntled client or someone connected to one of the investigations.’

  ‘Whoever it is, they know where you live.’ He kept his words deadpan.

  ‘That’s not all.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think they know the code to the building. The envelope was put under the door from the communal corridor.’