The Game Changer Read online

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice an old woman out walking her dog until they were close upon her, and all of a sudden, Kate felt self-conscious about staring at someone else’s house. Let them pass, she told herself, but the nearer they got to her, she saw that the dog, a dachshund, was readying itself to attack. With its short legs and elongated body, it pulled hard on the lead, snarling, its lips drawn back, showing its teeth. She reminded herself, he’s on a lead, but even so, she pulled in closer to the railings. What if the woman couldn’t control the dog? What if it was too strong for her? And as if the animal sensed her fear, it barked loudly, menacingly.

  ‘Stop it, Roger,’ the woman roared, pulling the lead shorter. Kate didn’t move, waiting for the dog and its owner to walk on. Her heart was thumping, her palms were sweaty and the skin around her ankle tingled. Pull yourself together, she told herself, it’s only a dog, but the fear was almost palpable. Something similar had happened to her during a previous conversation with Malcolm. He had mentioned the way her father used to flick his keys from one hand to the other. She hadn’t been able to work out why the flash of memory upset her. Now, looking at the house again, she wondered if any of that old stuff was worth obsessing about. She was happy, wasn’t she? Why couldn’t she forget the past, move on? She bit her bottom lip. Meeting Malcolm after all this time had intensified her questions about the year she was attacked, when she was twelve; even though she repeated in her mind the words she had said to herself many times, Let it go.

  It was only after she had decided to start back home that she noticed a curtain move in one of the front windows of her old house, that of her parents’ bedroom. It happened so quickly that she wasn’t sure if she had imagined it. On the spur of the moment she crossed the road, opened the small wrought-iron gate and walked up to the front door, now painted a bright canary yellow. She rang the doorbell, and waited.

  She thought about the dog again, its jaws ready to tear at her skin, as she stood back to check for any more movement inside, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. Like earlier, when she had detoured to run this way, the desire to walk around the rooms that held her past was immediate and strong. She told herself people were sympathetic about such things, and although she knew it was a long shot, she also knew that it was important to her to be inside the house.

  When the door wasn’t answered on the second ring, she stepped back once more. What was it about the house that was unsettling her? Why did she have the feeling that she was being watched? She turned, looking behind her, but other than some passing cars, the street was empty. She rang the doorbell a third time. Again, there was no response, and reluctantly she was forced to walk away. It was only as she opened the gate to leave, and turned to look at the house for the last time that she realised the sensation of being watched had been with her ever since she had crossed the road. Could someone be watching her from inside?

  The Game Changer

  Beethoven’s Symphony No 5, Op. 67 (first movement) was playing at low volume from the sound system. It was a recent favourite of the Game Changer, adding greater energy to the completion of records, player evaluations, progress reports, prescribed readings, seminar content and confidential material under the 20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme.

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS

  20 Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Confidential Record: 119

  Knowledge separates you from the ignorant and followers of social norms.

  Outside stimuli, including a person’s connection to others, will influence their thoughts and, ultimately, their choices. They can be cajoled, manipulated, convinced of things that they may not otherwise have believed or desired.

  Commonplace Examples:

  A sales assistant convincing a potential customer they should buy a product, or subliminal advertising creating pathways for things that can easily be done without – altering status from possible desire to essential.

  Evaluation of players/members should reflect individual and group benefits, and/or the Game Changer’s decision as to whether they should live or die.

  (Page 1 of 2)

  CENTRE OF LIGHTNESS 20

  Steps to Self-enlightenment Programme

  Other Notes

  1. Parting with money is emotional. A great many people will part with large sums, and continued indoctrination within the programme is essential before moving to STAGE 2.

  2. This will primarily be done without the use of blackmail or any other form of obvious coercion. Members will be convinced that what they are doing they are doing of their own free will.

  3. Human beings are adaptable. A person can change lifelong habits once they’re prepared to invest the time, energy and know-how into changing them. Shock can be useful too. It speeds up the process, but positive methods, praise, good humour, charm, consistent attention, or even physical desire, will assist the process of winning them over.

  4. Drip feeding of information into someone’s mind will produce a reaction unique to them, but if handled correctly, a person can be convinced that a belief was self-created.

  5. Nothing is ever fully guaranteed where human beings are concerned, but group people together (STAGE 2), lead them towards a certain belief and a mighty beast can be created, one that can be blinded in many ways, yet capable of doing things that individually would be impossible.

  6. The process is the key: 20 Steps to Self-enlightenment has gone under other names, but the name is immaterial. A name is merely a title – nothing more.

  ADDENDUM 09-175:

  The killing of people is frequently required. Acceptance of this means everything else is viewed within it – an emotion-free zone where the messy business of morals and other complications no longer applies. Each human being is capable of killing, although some are more adept at it than others.

  (Page 2 of 2)

  Sarah

  EVEN THOUGH IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE LILY’S arrival, Sarah worried that everything must feel so strange and new to her. Yet, she was being so good, never crying or making a fuss. Cuddling her close to her chest, Sarah told her about the box of baby clothes at the bottom of the wardrobe. Part of her knew Lily was too young to understand what she was saying, but she hoped she could sense how happy her mother was, and how much she loved her.

  ‘The clothes have been waiting for you, Lily,’ she murmured, ‘waiting for you to come home.’

  Laying Lily in the centre of the bed, she said, ‘Mummy will get you dressed in something nice. Mummy understands that all of this is very new for you. It must have been so dark and scary inside that cardboard box. You had to travel a very long distance on your own, but you’re not alone now, and that makes Mummy very happy.’

  The doll stared at her, but Sarah didn’t mind, energised, rummaging through the clothes, trying to decide on the right outfit. It was the first time she had opened the box of baby clothes in years, and as she felt their softness, a sharp pain hit her in the chest as she thought of all the joy that had been taken from her. She remembered picking out each and every item as if it had happened last week, not five years earlier. None of that darkness mattered now. What mattered, she told herself, was that, at long last, her darling Lily was with her.

  Before removing the white Babygro, Sarah checked the radiators were hot enough in the room. She didn’t want Lily to catch a chill. Gently manoeuvring the clothes off the doll’s arms and legs, even though she was all fingers and thumbs, she kept telling Lily how much she had missed her, and that Mummy would never let her go away again. It didn’t take long to change Lily into her coming-home clothes, the ones she’d never had a chance to wear, the ones with the clowns and the bright primary colours. John had said it looked more like an outfit for a boy than a girl, but that was part of his conditioning too, blue for a boy, pink for a girl. He probably wanted Lily to wear something with a princess on the front – more nonsense that the world used to warp thoughts.

  After Lily was dressed, Sarah wrapped her in a cream
blanket, holding her close and sitting on the rocking chair. It felt completely natural to open her blouse and snuggle Lily to her right breast. At first, she was unresponsive, but then Sarah got that tingling sensation, and they both relaxed some more. Soon Lily closed her eyes, falling into sleep. Sarah waited a long time before moving. When she stood up, the rocking chair creaked but, thankfully, the sound didn’t wake Lily as she took her into her bed.

  Sarah knew John wouldn’t be happy about Lily being in their bed. He’d say Sarah was starting a bad habit and that she should be putting the baby in her cot. As if any of that nonsense mattered. Nobody ever said they wished they hadn’t held or loved their baby quite so much. They said the very opposite. Lily could sleep with her for as long as she wanted to. She would try her in the Moses basket later on, in case she preferred it. It was in the storage cupboard downstairs. She would put the cot together too. John’s tools were in the garage. It shouldn’t be too hard to follow the instructions.

  John had wanted to get rid of everything, to pretend Lily had never existed, that her life hadn’t happened. Sarah wasn’t having any of that, not any more. Her love was too strong. It was the pain of trying to hide it that messed up her head. You had to be a mother to understand these things. Her life had changed the moment Lily was born. Nothing would ever be the same – she didn’t want it to be.

  Sarah hadn’t cried since the day they told her how sick Lily was. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry, but in her heart she knew that Lily would never leave her, and now they were together again, and she had had her first proper feed. Neither John nor anyone else was going to spoil that. For the first time in five years, she allowed the tears to flow.

  Pulling a blanket over both of them, she thought how lucky she was to have her darling Lily beside her. She remembered Saka’s words, about taking it one step at a time, and how each step would bring her closer to where she needed to be.

  Kate

  THE RUN BACK TO THE APARTMENT HELPED KATE TO settle her thoughts, her steady breathing easing her anxiety. When she turned the key in the front door, she heard the phone ring and saw from the caller ID that it was Malcolm.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, sounding as upbeat as she could.

  ‘Are we still okay for later on? I’ve booked the restaurant for eight thirty.’

  She could hear traffic noises at the other end of the line. Darn it, she’d forgotten they were due to meet for dinner. ‘Sure. If Adam gets back on time that should be fine. He’s working on a new investigation, so I can’t be a hundred per cent. I can let you know later.’

  ‘What’s the case about?’

  ‘A suspected suicide.’

  ‘Suspected?’

  ‘You know how these things are.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t, Kate. Why don’t you explain them to me?’

  ‘All sudden deaths are investigated, and this one was a little unusual.’

  ‘I suppose it can pay to have a suspicious mind.’

  ‘I guess it can, Malcolm.’

  ‘Are you still writing in your journals as I suggested? It’s a great way to free the mind. I know it certainly helps me.’

  ‘Yes, but …’ She thought about what had happened earlier, her feeling of being watched, and her reaction to the dog. ‘I’m writing about old stuff.’

  ‘You can put anything you want in the journal, Kate. It’s your call.’

  She wondered should she tell him about the repeating dream, and how that sentence kept going around in her head. She wasn’t seeing him professionally, but at times it was as if he was treating her like a client, or was it her? Was she depending on him more than she knew? ‘The writing seems to be triggering a reaction of sorts, that and other things.’

  ‘What other things? What kind of reaction?’

  She had no intention of telling him that he was part of it. At least, not yet. Instead, she said, ‘It’s weird. I mean, I’ve never been happier than I am now, spending time with Charlie, taking a step back from work, being with Adam, living a less hectic existence. I’m even getting to know my neighbours.’ She laughed.

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  Be honest, she told herself. He’s only trying to help. Isn’t that a good thing? ‘The problem is that every now and then I’m getting this negative feeling, a kind of fear, I guess.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘Different things. Like today, when I was out running, I was terrified by a dog. That hasn’t happened to me in years. I got over that phobia a long time ago.’

  ‘The journal writing could be a factor, Kate, depending on what you’re writing about.’

  ‘You sound like you’re psychoanalysing me, Malcolm.’

  ‘Sorry, force of habit.’

  ‘No need to apologise. It’s fine. I know you want to help.’

  ‘So, if it’s not a big secret, Kate, what exactly are you writing about?’

  ‘As I said, most of it seems to be focused on years ago, my childhood, things about my parents and other stuff.’

  ‘It’s not unusual to look backwards, but I suppose it depends on whether or not there’s a particular area of concentration.’

  She didn’t respond. ‘Kate, if you don’t want to talk to me about it, you don’t have to.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It feels strange talking about it out loud, that’s all.’

  ‘Now you know how our clients feel.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Kate, are you still worried about those memory gaps? You know it’s perfectly normal for everyone to have them.’

  ‘It’s not only that.’ She wondered whether she should be more specific.

  ‘Kate, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here … I keep going back to that time I was attacked.’

  ‘When you were twelve?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe there are still some unresolved issues around it. I don’t need to tell you how the mind works.’

  ‘Perhaps I have too much time on my hands.’

  Kate wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden, she didn’t feel like talking about it any more. ‘Look, Malcolm, I’m really sorry, but I’ve only just arrived back at the apartment, and there’s a few things I need to do. We can talk later.’ She heard a police siren down the phone line.

  ‘That’s up to you, Kate.’

  ‘Where are you by the way?’

  ‘I’m out having a stroll. I’m not as energetic as you are – no running as of yet.’

  ‘You know the mantra, Malcolm. Thirty minutes a day to keep the body healthy.’

  ‘That’s what they say.’

  ‘Look, I’d better go.’

  ‘Can I ask you one last question, Kate?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Have you written anything specific about your mystery attacker?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’m concerned, that’s all, or perhaps concerned is too strong a word.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Sometimes a physical reference can conjure up all sorts of possibilities that may or may not be reliable. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’

  ‘You’re not prying. And thanks for the warning. As I said, it’s probably nothing more than having too much time on my hands.’

  ‘Call me if you need anything.’

  Hanging up, she checked her watch. It was two o’clock. She needed to pick Charlie up in less than an hour. Why had she held back with Malcolm? Maybe a part of her didn’t want to share the information until things made more sense to her.

  Taking out her journal, she recorded her visit to the house, along with the feeling that someone had been watching her, wondering whether she had imagined the curtain moving in what used to be her parents’ bedroom. It was only then that she heard the footsteps walking towards the front door of the apartment. Putting down her pen, she closed the journal and went out to the hall. The footsteps had stopped. She was about to go back inside when she saw the large white envelope on the
hall floor. It must have been slid under the door. Picking it up, she looked at the front – it was blank. Perhaps it was meant for Adam, but either way, she tore it open, finding what looked like cut-up newspaper clippings inside.

  Walking into the living room, she laid them flat on the coffee table, realising the cut-out shapes were joined, each one forming an individual letter. They combined to make a sentence. She stared at the words, hardly believing what she was reading, and at the same time wondering what the message – ‘I REMEMBER YOU KATE’ – actually meant. The edges had been cut using pinking shears, a line of small triangles on each of the sides. Who remembered her? It couldn’t be him. Could it? Not after all this time, surely.

  She contemplated phoning Adam, but what could he add that her own two eyes didn’t tell her?

  It was then that she wondered if someone had followed her from her old house. She looked through the peep-hole in the front door, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Nervous, she opened the door, looking left and right, jumping when she heard movement in the apartment above, her heart skipping, relieved that the communal hall was empty. But someone had been there. Someone had put that envelope under the door. It hadn’t been there when she arrived. It had to have been delivered when she’d heard the footsteps. How had someone managed to get into the building without a code? It didn’t make sense. But no matter how she thought about it, there was no denying one simple fact. Whoever had created the message knew where she lived.