by Guy Morpuss
Best of luck, Ms Weston.
The seat-belt sign goes off and I decide to visit the toilets to get a look at my fellow passengers.
Seat 1A is occupied by a smartly dressed lady with grey hair, writing something with a silver fountain pen. In seat 2A is a middle-aged man in a dark suit, tapping away at laptop computer. Across the aisle from him, in 2E, is a woman of about my age, dressed in a grey trouser-suit, and sitting next to her is a young girl carefully colouring in a picture of a whale. The final passenger is in seat 3F dark-skinned and dressed in flowing brown robes, clutching what looks like a religious text. He is rocking backwards and forwards and muttering under his breath. This seems clumsy. Am I meant to think that he’s a terrorist suicide bomber? Or is it a double-bluff? Is the racist under-tone meant to make me dismiss him too quickly as a suspect?
I return to my seat.
My screen has changed. In the top-right corner is a timer, counting down. It reads 26:48. There is then a list of five names. The last one is mine, crossed through. I decide to start with the obvious one.
ABDULLAH IBRAHIM
Seat 3F
Mr Ibrahim is a forty-two-year-old religious scholar who teaches at a university in Karachi, Pakistan. He has a wife and five children who are not traveling with him. He has no known terrorist links. He is avowedly moderate and two years ago was denounced by his university board for trying to establish an exchange program with a Christian university. His brother was arrested three months ago in a protest against the Pakistani government and is currently being held in an undisclosed prison. Mr Ibrahim is returning from a multi-faith peace conference in Washington.
So Abdullah has just gone from being the most obvious suspect to the least likely. Despite his appearance he does not sound like a promising terrorist candidate. Unless his imprisoned brother is being used to coerce him?
THE HONOURABLE ABIGAIL WHISTLER, ASSOCIATE JUSTICE
Seat 1A
Judge Whistler is an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court. She is seventy-two years old. She has been a judge for twenty-eight years with, until recently, an unblemished career. She is currently suspended from duty and under investigation by the Judicial Ethics Committee as well as the United States Congress.
Judge Whistler’s daughter is a member of a far-right militant organization, CAOG – Christians Against Oppressive Government. They are known to have stockpiled large quantities of arms and explosives against what they foresee as an inevitable future civil war. Numerous members have been convicted of illegal activities and are currently imprisoned.
Judge Whistler has sat on three cases involving CAOG or its members, without disclosing her links to the organization. Some members of CAOG have said that Judge Whistler herself is a covert member. She is known to hold strong religious and right-wing beliefs.
It is widely expected that Judge Whistler will be found to have breached her ethical duties and be required to resign.
Whilst the judge looks like a nice old lady, under the surface she appears to be a religious nut with access to explosives whose career is in ruins. Definitely worth considering.
JAMES BARTON
Seat 2A
Mr Barton was, until recently, the chief executive of a multi-billion-dollar hedge fund operating out of New York. Six months ago his offices were raided by the Securities and Exchange Commission, and multiple breaches of financial regulations and criminal law were identified. He is subject to numerous charges under federal law and is currently out on bail of five million dollars. He is attempting to negotiate a plea bargain with authorities, but will still be looking at likely jail time of ten to twenty years and confiscation of most if not all of his assets.
Mr Barton is married with two young children. Two weeks ago he and his wife took out a ten-million-dollar insurance policy on their lives in favour of their children. They told their insurance broker that since Mr Barton travels a lot they wanted to be certain that the policy would pay out in the event of an aircraft crash.
Suspect Number One, it seems. Although why go to all this trouble? If he wants to kill himself and leave some money for his children why not just jump under a train?
LOUISA AND GEORGINA DE CLERK
Seats 2E and 2F
Ms de Clerk is a thirty-eight-year-old South African socialite and divorcée. Last year, in a bitterly contested divorce, she was awarded sixty million dollars in settlement, together with custody of the couple’s four-year-old daughter, Georgina.
Ms de Clerk and her daughter are returning from a scheduled one-week contact visit with Georgina’s father.
Not an obvious suspect. What motive would someone who had just received sixty million dollars have for blowing up a plane and killing her daughter and herself?
I really need to know what luggage they are all carrying, but I can’t start searching through the overhead lockers. I visit the galley at the front of the cabin on the excuse that I need a glass of water. The air stewardess looks surprised, and tells me to call for her next time. I walk back to my seat as slowly as I can.
The judge has stopped writing and has her eyes closed, her papers stuffed into a wicker bag at her feet. It doesn’t look an obvious bomb holder. Barton has put on headphones and is watching something. There is a brown leather briefcase tucked under his footrest. That looks more promising. Why is he keeping it so close?
Louisa de Clerk is reading a book and has in front of her an empty champagne glass and a gin and tonic. Her daughter has given up colouring in and is watching something on a laptop, cuddled up in her oversized seat with a stuffed pink unicorn, wrapped in a blanket. Abdullah Ibrahim continues to pray. He has a soft canvas bag next to him on his seat. He seems to be trying too hard to be a suspect.
It would help if I had some idea of the size of the bomb. How big a bag do they need for it?
I sit back down. My countdown is at 13:12 and I am no further forward. A new message appears on my screen.
We are devoting all available resources to further background investigation of the suspects. Based on your investigations so far please advise which suspects you wish us to prioritize and whether there are any that we can disregard.
I don’t have any clear evidence one way or another. I need more information and to get it I am going to have to take a gamble.
Barton, Ibrahim and the judge are all keeping their bags close to them, but the judge’s doesn’t look like the sort to hide a bomb. And somehow Ibrahim feels like a red herring. He is just too obvious. At the moment if I had to choose it would be Barton.
What about de Clerk? She seems the least suspicious of all, which makes me suspicious of her.
The four names are up on the screen, with a ‘yes/no’ next to them. More on gut instinct than anything I tap ‘no’ for Ibrahim and ‘yes’ for Barton and de Clerk. I can’t decide about the judge. I tap ‘OK’ and the screen disappears.
10:48.
After a minute another screen appears.
We have been able to gather more information about two of the possible suspects.
JAMES BARTON
We have spoken to Mr Barton’s wife who said that it was she who encouraged him to take out new life insurance, and it was she who enquired about aircraft crash coverage. She says that she had recently read an article about a CEO who died in a crash and the insurers refused to pay out because of suspected terrorism.
She also told us that Mr Barton is about to agree a plea bargain under which he will be required to serve a four-year prison term and pay a fine of eighty million dollars. He is pleased with the deal and is flying to see his lawyers to finalize the paperwork.
So there goes my Suspect Number One.
LOUISA DE CLERK
Witnesses report that shortly before boarding the flight Ms de Clerk was seen arguing fiercely with a man who matches the description of her former husband. We understand that Mr de Clerk and his second wife met Ms de Clerk at the airport to hand over Georgina. We have traced a vehicle belonging to Mr de
Clerk leaving the airport shortly thereafter.
That doesn’t take me a lot further, but a row with her ex might explain why she’s had a couple of drinks immediately on boarding. That in itself is hardly suspicious.
Please advise which suspects you wish us to prioritize and whether there are any that we can disregard.
I check the time remaining: 7:04. I am taking a chance on dismissing Ibrahim, and now Barton, but I have to make some decisions.
I tell them to focus on de Clerk and the judge, and disregard Barton. I’m flip-flopping on the judge.
I can’t get up again without looking suspicious. I need to wait.
5:43
We have further information about two possible suspects.
THE HONOURABLE ABIGAIL WHISTLER, ASSOCIATE JUSTICE
We understand from the Judicial Ethics Committee that based on current evidence they are likely to conclude that Judge Whistler was in breach of her duties in failing to declare her daughter’s links to CAOG, but that there is no evidence that the judge herself is a member. The Committee does not think that there is any credible evidence to support that allegation, and considers it highly unlikely that the judge would have access to any form of explosive device. The Committee’s current intention is to issue a reprimand and permit her to continue her duties.
So the judge is dropping down my list of suspects as well.
LOUISA DE CLERK
We have now obtained footage of the altercation between Ms de Clerk and her husband. This is being uploaded to you.
We have also traced Mr de Clerk’s vehicle, which was involved in a single-vehicle accident approximately five miles from the airport. His vehicle appears to have been driven with intent off the road and into a tree. Mr de Clerk and his second wife died instantly. Officers at the scene believe this is likely to have been a murder–suicide.
4:32
All of which looks suspicious, but still doesn’t explain why Ms de Clerk might want to blow up an aircraft with her daughter on board. Am I wrong to ignore Ibrahim? It’s getting too late to worry about that.
The image clip isn’t great quality. It shows four figures standing near the security gates at the airport. I recognise two of them as Louisa and Georgina de Clerk. The third is a man who must be her ex-husband. Now very ex. Standing just behind him is a red-haired woman who looks as though she doesn’t want to be part of the group. She is glancing around her, as though embarrassed by the scene they are causing, and puts a hand on her husband’s arm. He shrugs her off. He is arguing with his ex-wife while Georgina clings to her mother’s leg. Mr de Clerk moves close up to Louisa and shakes his finger in her face. She pushes him away and turns, taking Georgina by the hand. He stands for a moment then runs after them, pulling something from a backpack. Louisa tries to start through security but he grabs Georgina by the shoulder, crouches down, and hands her what he is carrying. Louisa seizes it from her daughter and throws it across the airport floor. Georgina pulls free from her mother and runs after it, picking it up.
I try to zoom in to see what it is they are fighting over, but the clip won’t do that. I play that bit again, and this time I catch a flash of pink. I’ve seen that shape somewhere before.
And I know where the bomb is.
There is no terrorist. This isn’t some fundamentalist plot to blow up an airliner to make a political statement. As I thought, Ibrahim was a red herring. Nor is it a failed businessman looking for insurance money, or a disgraced judge looking to end it all.
This is revenge, driven by the oldest motives of all, love and jealousy. A father who doesn’t want to let his daughter go, and who hates her mother. Who would rather see them both dead. Who doesn’t care about the hundreds of others who will die with them. Because he knows that by then he too will be dead.
His parting gift to his daughter was meant to kill us all.
1:11
I look up.
I leap out of my seat and cut round the back of row 3 to the other aisle. A stewardess carrying a food tray jumps out of my way and apologises. I run up the aisle to where Georgina is sitting.
She looks up from her computer screen, not understanding why I grab her stuffed pink unicorn and wave it above my head in triumph.
•
Victory
Congratulations, Ms Weston. Thanks to your efforts the crew was able to disable the bomb before it detonated. Two players survived the game.
You have been credited with six years.
You have ten minutes to leave the booth.
•
I found myself back in the arena.
I was relieved to have survived. The first part of Alex’s gamble had paid off. But the second part would be harder. Ben would be facing Amy Bird.
BEN
DAY FOUR
11:00–13:10
Alex had set me up with a challenge. I wasn’t certain about the wisdom of staying in the park just in the hope of tracking down Mike. It was illogical to suppose that he was still alive.
I brought up the details. It looked like a fairly standard alien shoot-’em-up. These were a staple of the death parks. I could see why Alex had thought this would be good for me. I had spent hours, weeks, years maybe, playing simulations of this kind. Outside the parks I had won some high-profile competitions. I wouldn’t know the full details until I got in, but there wasn’t going to be anyone in the park who could beat me.
The problem was the challenger: Amy Bird.
Alex had described the challenge as interesting. I would have used other words. High risk. Stupid. Utterly insane, perhaps? What had Alex been thinking? Kate had already played Bird, beaten her, and yet Bird was still alive. Then Bird had beaten Mike, yet we were still here. Somehow she wasn’t playing by the rules. I was confident I could defeat any normal andi as they wouldn’t have the reflexes and experience that I did. All the more so with the second-hand andis being sold in the parks. They probably hadn’t been serviced in years.
Bird might be different.
But there was nothing I could do. The challenge had been accepted and my only options were to play or forfeit. I wasn’t going to forfeit.
I had thirty minutes to get to the arena, a low-budget place in Borth Street. Ominously, the same place where Bird had played Kate.
I skimmed my messages as I walked there. The results of my search for Bird seemed to show beyond doubt that she was working with Sierra. I struggled to understand why. There was no reason or logic to Sierra’s mind and I had long ago given up trying to understand her. But this made even less sense than usual. I found it hard to buy into Alex’s theory that they had somehow uploaded Mike’s mind into the andi.
I didn’t have time to worry about that now. If I didn’t beat Sierra’s andi we were all going to be out of the park in an hour, minus all the time we had won. At best.
The Borth Street Arena was in one of the most derelict parts of the park that I had seen. Surrounding blocks were overgrown with piles of rubble, and I could hear some creature rustling out of sight. A half-demolished high-rise towered over the single-storey arena, looking as though it might collapse on to it at any moment. That was probably not my biggest risk.
The arena door squealed open reluctantly.
12:26.
Amy Bird was already there, sitting on the unstaffed counter. I nodded to her. ‘Shouldn’t there be someone here?’ I said.
She jumped down. ‘Hello, Ben. I sent them away. I prefer not to be watched.’
‘Who are you?’ I asked. ‘Alex thinks you’re Mike.’
‘I’m Amy.’ She smiled. ‘No one else.’
‘What did you do to Mike?’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ she said. ‘Mike lost a race. You know the rules. He died.’
‘If that’s true and the rules applied I wouldn’t be here now. We would all have gone into stasis. And according to the rules you should be dead – Kate beat you.’
‘True,’ she said. ‘But those were my rules we were playing by.’
> ‘And what now? Are we playing fairly or are you going to twist the rules again?’
‘Worried, Ben? This is your sort of game. You should be able to beat me with one arm tied behind your back. I promise you we will play this fairly.’
‘We know you’re working with Sierra and I know what her promises are worth,’ I said. ‘Did you tell Mike you were playing fair and then got some ringer in so you could kill him?’
‘You worked that out?’ she said. ‘Clever you. The trouble with Mike was his vanity. He thought he was unbeatable. You may not believe me when I say that I will play fair, but you don’t really have much choice. You play the game or forfeit.’
‘We don’t need to play the game if I kill you here,’ I said.
‘That would be unwise.’ She inclined her head towards a security camera in the corner of the ceiling. ‘The authorities would take a dim view of it. You would probably end up mindwiped. Kill me in there,’ she nodded towards the rooms, ‘and you’re a hero who has just won some extra time.’
I doubted whether the camera was working. I hadn’t been able to get a feed from it in my searches. But she was right. The risks of killing her here were too high. Besides, I wasn’t certain I could bring myself to kill someone in the real world. Dying in a game might have the same result, but it felt very different.
A buzzer sounded.
12:30.
‘Now we play, or you forfeit,’ said Amy. ‘Your choice.’
‘Which room?’ I asked.
‘You’re in Room 3,’ she said with a smile.
Room 3? That was deliberate. To try to unsettle me. Three was all wrong.
I turned my back on her and stepped inside.
•
Welcome, Mr White
Game:
Black Hole Rescue
Winner:
First to save the ship
Stages:
One
