Shiver

by Andrea Frazer

  Her eyes shone. ‘You don’t have to thank me. Your cleaner did everything.’

  IV

  The launch in Valdovia of the Hallowmas scratch card was a great success. There were videos on YouTube of Valdovian citizens in ghoulish outfits, queuing up to buy the lottery tickets in their local shops; a grandma did an ecstatic dance after winning the first million volcheks; and there was even a photo of the president himself, surreptitiously scratching off a ticket during a political meeting.

  Rosalie was caught up in the euphoria. James King paid her three times the amount he’d promised, and her father was overcome with gratitude. No matter how often Rosalie protested that it wasn’t her who had written the program, no one believed her.

  And as for the cleaner, he’d completely disappeared.

  After a while Rosalie herself began to believe his appearance that night must all have been a dream. After all, she’d been staring at the screen until nearly dawn. She must have written the program herself during a heightened period of awareness brought on by sleep deprivation. There was no other possible explanation. No one at King Games knew who the mysterious cleaner was. Rosalie began to forget all about his threat to collect his winning ticket from her, and if truth were told she had other things – or to be exact, another person – on her mind. After that evening, her thoughts returned more and more to James King.

  Not long after the launch of the Halloween game, Rosalie was in her office when her mobile rang. She’d spent far too much time in the past few weeks thinking of James when she ought to have been working, and so it was with a start that she saw his name flash up on the screen. She tried her best to sound nonchalant as she greeted him, but instead she was distinctly breathless.

  James began by asking if she’d fully recovered from her sleepless night, and then went on to say, ‘I wondered if I could take you out for dinner? To thank you for all your help. Of course, if you’re busy …’

  Rosalie’s cheeks went pink. Was this a date? She assured him she had no other plans, and was rewarded by a definite smile in James’s voice.

  ‘Good. I’ll pick you up at eight.’

  Rosalie gave him her address and hung up a wide smile on her face.

  The rest of the afternoon crawled by in a euphoric glow. Rosalie left the office earlier than usual, impatient to reach home. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, she had to wear, and whether it needed ironing. When she finally got through the early evening traffic and entered her flat, she hurried straight for the stairs to her bedroom.

  A small sound made her pause, one foot on the bottom stair. There was a noise coming from her living room. The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. Surely she hadn’t left the television playing? She cast her mind back to the evening before. No, she’d stayed late at work, and then, feeling tired, she’d made herself a snack in her kitchen and gone straight to bed.

  There was someone in her flat.

  Rosalie pulled her mobile out of her bag as silently as she could and turned.

  ‘Princess Geek. We meet again.’

  Her heart gave a violent lurch and began thudding in her ears. The cleaner was standing in her hallway, arms folded, watching her.

  ‘How did you get in?’

  He gave a small smile, tilting his head on one side. ‘Tut tut. Why so unwelcoming? We’re old friends now, aren’t we? And I’ve come for the lottery ticket. I told you I would.’

  Rosalie gave a gasp. ‘You know that’s impossible. I told you.’

  The cleaner’s eyes narrowed, and such menace radiated from him that Rosalie took a terrified step back.

  ‘Dear me, this is disappointing.’ His eyes were two slits of spite. Rosalie made to use her phone, and he sneered. ‘Don’t underestimate me, Rosalie.’

  She pressed the numbers 999. The screen on her phone flickered, and the grotesque image of a grinning pumpkin flashed into view, its jagged teeth mocking her.

  ‘What have you done?’ she said wildly. She pressed the numbers again and again, to no avail.

  ‘I’ve come to collect what’s mine. One of those three winning tickets has already gone. I saw the crazy old woman dancing on YouTube. I want to be the crazy old cleaner doing my own dance. Now you tell James King to go to his records and find out where the winning tickets have been delivered. Then I want him to send someone to Valdovia to collect one of them.’

  Rosalie shook her head violently, but the cleaner hissed, ‘I’ve hacked into James King’s files. The company’s accounts will be drained and scurrilous attacks on his character will appear simultaneously across the web. So, either I transfer a few hundred thousand pounds from King Games’ account into mine …’ He stepped closer, and Rosalie shrank away. ‘Or, you get me one of the million-volchek-winning tickets. Either way, it’s I win or,’ he jabbed a finger, ‘I win.’ He cast a last threatening glance over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be back to collect on October 31st.You have a week.’

  The door opened and slammed shut, and the cleaner’s feet could be heard stomping down the driveway. Rosalie collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

  It hadn’t been a dream, after all. The television was still playing in her living room; evidence that the man had really been here. Rosalie lifted her mobile and examined the screen with relief. At least her camera hadn’t been disabled by whatever program the cleaner had used to hack into it.

  She pulled herself to her feet and glanced at her watch. Dinner with James would have to be postponed. She would make her way straight to King Games and tell him they were in serious trouble.

  V

  James waited outside Reception in a replay of that evening – the evening he first met Rosalie. The weather had turned cold, and a few chill drops of rain were falling. He stood under the shelter of the porch and watched Rosalie’s white car climb the hill. What a fantastical tale she’d told him. But when she stepped out of her car, he could see straightaway that she was shaken. Whatever the truth of the matter, the cleaner’s appearance was very real to her.

  James advanced into the rain. ‘Rosalie.’ He put his arm around her, shielding her from the wet, and guided her to the door.

  ‘Oh James, I’m so sorry.’ She was trembling violently.

  As the lift began its ascent, James pulled her into an embrace. ‘Hey.’

  Her hair smelled sweet as toffee apples. She clung to him, and he dropped a light kiss on the top of her head, releasing her only when the lift doors swished open.

  Once in his office he fetched Rosalie a warming cup of coffee, pouring a generous slug of whisky into the plastic cup. The heady scent of oaked malt mixed with the aroma of coffee brought a little colour into her cheeks. Rosalie took a small sip and warmed her cold fingers on the cup. Then she began to explain her story, telling James again how the cleaner had written the program; how he’d told her he wanted a winning lottery ticket as payment; and how he’d said he’d come and find her when payment was due.

  ‘And so when I got home from the office today, there he was in my flat, watching my television.’ She shuddered. ‘He came out in the hallway and threatened me. Said one of the three winning lottery tickets had already been claimed, and how we were running out of time to bring him his. Oh, James.’ She gazed at him, eyes wide with shock. ‘He said he’d hacked into your computer system and installed a program that would drain all the money from your company and ruin you. If we don’t get him the winning ticket, he’s going to activate it.’ She held up her mobile, her hand trembling. ‘I tried to phone the police whilst he was there. But he’d immobilised my phone.’

  James took the phone from her hand and pressed a few of the buttons. The screen sprang to life: her screensaver; her contacts; the keypad. All seemed to be functioning normally. He met Rosalie’s gaze and saw how she was biting her lip.

  ‘I’m not making it up. Here.’ She took the phone from his hand and flicked through the screens before holding it up to his gaze. ‘Now do you believe me?’

  There on the screen was th
e photo of a squat, dark-featured man, thick lips drawn back in a menacing sneer. The photo was very slightly blurred around the outline, but the expression of evil was unmistakeable. James stared at it in shock.

  ‘When did you take this?’

  ‘Just now. In my flat, as he was leaving. My screen sprang back to life when he opened the door.’

  James sank into his chair and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers were shaking a little. The thought that someone had threatened Rosalie caused anger to bubble and burn inside him. He leapt to his feet, reaching for the phone on his desk.

  ‘We need to call the police.’

  ‘Wait.’ Rosalie put her hand over his and looked up at him. ‘We have to stop this guy but if we call the police, the whole story will come out. If it becomes known I let a cleaner have access to the system at King Games, it will undermine confidence in my company. And imagine the effect the news will have in Valdovia. All the credibility behind the lottery will be lost.’

  James hesitated. If it were just a question of King Games, he would say none of this mattered. Not if Rosalie’s safety were at stake. But any hint that Rosalie had caused a problem with security issues would be fatal to her company. Miller Software might never recover.

  Rosalie’s hand tightened on his. ‘Give me some time to find the program and disable it. If I can’t fix it, we go to the police.’

  James replaced the handset reluctantly. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow is Saturday. None of the office staff will be here. We’ll have the whole of the IT department to ourselves to work on the problem.’

  Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, James.’ She pressed his hand. ‘I’ll try and put it right.’

  James caught her fingers in his. ‘It’s my fault, not yours. I should never have left you alone that night.’

  Her lips parted, and then James bent his head and kissed her. Her mouth was sweet and warm under his, and she wrapped her arms around him, responding with gentle ardour. He gave a groan, deepening his kiss until she shifted in his arms, and the heat of her body spread into his.

  James lifted his head, cupping her cheek in his hand, willing his racing heart to subside. ‘We should go,’ he said, his voice ragged.

  She nodded, her eyes wide and bright as they rested on him.

  VI

  It was past midnight. Rosalie shifted her chair away from the desk and pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. Around her lay a litter of coffee cups and the remains of the sandwiches James had collected from the canteen. His hand lightly touched her shoulder.

  ‘Want to rest?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m nearly there, I know it.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘He planted the rogue program at the same time as fixing the code for the Halloween game. He typed so quickly, it was like watching a magician. But I’ve followed the train of code, and –’

  A thought struck her, like a spark striking in her brain. She sat up straight. ‘That’s it.’ She tabbed quickly through the code until she came to a cluster of zeroes interspersed with several ones. The ones and zeroes were arranged in such a way that, when the lines of code were isolated, they formed the pattern of a gaping mouth on the screen, with a serrated set of teeth, like the mouth cut out of a Halloween pumpkin.

  Rosalie separated the lines of code and began to weave a new program around them. James’s warm presence was at her back, his hand steady on her shoulder as she worked. Despite her weariness his touch invigorated her.

  She pressed a button and the code ran up the screen, disappearing over the edge.

  New words flashed up. ‘Well done, Princess Geek.’

  Beneath was the image of an enormous orange pumpkin, with a set of jagged teeth. Rosalie gasped, and James’s hand tightened on her shoulder. ‘What the …?’

  ‘I’ve cracked it,’ Rosalie whispered. She typed in a query, and waited for the code for the cleaner’s rogue program to spring up on the screen.

  To her dismay new words sprang up. ‘Unlucky. Password required. (Give you three guesses.)’

  Rosalie groaned. James’s eyes were narrowed, his strong jaw clenched.

  ‘Any ideas?’ she asked.

  He rubbed his brow, where a deep frown refused to budge. ‘It could be anything. A string of numbers, his first pet. His mum’s birthday, for all we know.’ He sighed. ‘What have we got to lose? He’s obviously a gambler, so why don’t we take a chance, too. We know Halloween is Hallowmas in Valdovian.’

  Rosalie typed in ‘Hallowmas’.

  Again the image of a pumpkin and pointed teeth.

  ‘Access Denied.’ The words grew in density and the pixels dissipated slowly, leaving in their place three letters: ‘LOL ’.

  ‘He’s playing a game with us.’ James pulled out the chair beside Rosalie’s and sat down heavily.

  She put her hand on his arm. ‘He wants us to sweat. Let me try something else.’

  She typed in another line of code, and the grinning pumpkin vanished.

  ‘ Two guesses left. I’m even going to give you a clue, since you’ll never divine what it is. The password is my real name. And now, if you don’t have the winning ticket ready to collect by October 31st this program will destroy King Games. Consider yourselves warned. ’

  James drummed his fingers on the table as the text vanished. ‘His real name. That can’t be too hard to find, surely? Try and think back. Did he mention anything at all that might indicate who he is?’

  Rosalie cast her mind over the two occasions she’d met the cleaner and shook her head. ‘Nothing. The only clue we have is that he’s Valdovian. Oh, and we now have his photo. But that’s not much to go on.’

  James sat up. ‘He doesn’t know we have the photo. Thank heavens you were so quick-witted. I’ll get your dad in, and the whole of the IT team. Tell them it’s an emergency. If we start trawling through all the records we can find online, we’ll get him.’

  Rosalie nodded dubiously. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’

  James must have noted the weariness and doubt in her voice. He put his arm around her, pulling her to him so that her head rested on his chest. His heart beat slow and steady. ‘Let me and the rest of the guys deal with it now,’ he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘You’ve done enough. But don’t go home. I want you to stay here in the building, where I can keep an eye on you.’

  Exhaustion swamped Rosalie. It was no trouble to do as James asked, and stay. In any case, she hated the thought of leaving him, and the idea of going home to her empty flat was too terrifying for words.

  ‘I’ll ask my dad to call round at home and pick up a few things.’ She shivered. ‘I hope we can find his name. Otherwise …’

  Her voice trailed off. James stood and gave her a brief, fierce hug.

  An hour or so later Rosalie was lying on a makeshift bed in James’s office, trying to do as he said. Behind the locked doors of the IT department, an amazed team of programmers had been briefed. Armed only with Rosalie’s photo, they were looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack of the world wide web. But James’s staff were nothing if not dogged.

  It seemed strange to be sleeping in James’s space, surrounded by all his work possessions. The scent of him clung to the room, and eventually, despite the hardness of her bed, Rosalie fell into a deep sleep, in which she enjoyed vivid dreams of being wrapped in James’s arms, her head lying on his chest. When the sun rose, sending bright rays over the window ledge, she woke with a start, and was instantly gripped by a feeling of foreboding.

  She threw off the blankets her father had brought her and hurried to the IT room, tapping on the door to be let in. A row of solemn faces met hers.

  ‘What’s happened?’ She glanced round wildly and met James’s taut gaze.

  ‘Another million-winning lottery ticket has been claimed in Valdovia. It was on the early morning news.’

  James indicated the screen on the wall. A video of a young woman at a Halloween party was playing on a loop. She was dressed as a vampire and was w
aving a winning ticket, her pointed teeth showing in an incongruous beaming smile of joy.

  Rosalie’s heart lurched violently. She knew what this meant. ‘There’s only one left.’

  James nodded. ‘And our friend has sent us a little reminder.’

  He swivelled round the monitor he was working on. A message flashed on the screen. ‘Six days and one ticket left. Tick. Tock.’

  Underneath the threat was a pumpkin-shaped clock, counting down each second until the deadline.

  VII

  Rosalie woke with a start, her heart thudding. The room, dark and unfamiliar, had an unreal feel to it. Then the past few days came flooding back, and she remembered she wasn’t at home. She was in James’s flat. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and waited for the thudding in her chest to subside. Another nightmare.

  She opened her door and padded into the kitchen. Moonlight fell through the windows, bathing the worktops with an unearthly glow. It was an eerie atmosphere but she was reluctant to turn on a light and risk waking James. She opened a cupboard and reached down a glass, moving quietly to fill it with water. After the cleaner’s last warning, James had insisted she stay with him here, where he could keep an eye on her. And in truth, Rosalie found the thought of James’s solid, stocky presence sleeping in the room next to hers reassuring.

  She wondered how the night shift was getting on at King Games. They’d been working solidly for three days now, and the day before had finally reached a heart-stopping moment. After many hours of internet-trawling, one of James’s staff had come across an old, grainy video taken at a Hallowmas parade in Valdovia. There was a lot of background noise. The ghostly sound of Valdovian bagpipes mingled with the chugging of floats and the ghoulish wails of the procession. The crowd, though, was strangely quiet. They watched in silence as the ghouls and ghosts, the vampires and zombies trooped past, only the children giving the occasional cry of fright when a spectre reached into the crowd.

  One of the IT team – an eagle-eyed trainee called Stefan – had slowed down the clip, examining every face in the throng until, miraculously, he recognised the person the staff had nicknamed the ‘Pumpkin Hacker’. A man dressed in a green jerkin and trousers stood at the edge of the crowd, his head inside an enormous grinning pumpkin. Somebody called his name, and he raised the pumpkin to see who it was. There was only a brief moment before he replaced his mask, but when the video was frozen it was enough to confirm his identity. And not only that, somebody had called out his name.