Tom slid his hands along his thighs to his knees, soaking up their heat and absorbing the sweat from his palms. Then he rose to his feet, turned around and went over to the window. It was dry outside and sunny, despite the persistent cold spell. He opened the window as wide as it would go and felt the icy blast caress his face. He spun his wrists through 180 degrees to ease the tension. Then he climbed up and surveyed the school grounds from his window ledge.

  He could see the trees around the school perimeter, the gate – currently open, the rugby pitch, on which Year 8 were slogging away – even from here he could see their red noses and dirty shins. Beyond that, the residential streets of normal life and the sign for the underground station, which had so often transported him home, except there wasn’t any home, any more.

  What a feeling! To be on top of the world in the game and to reproduce it in real life. He spread his arms and legs across the frame, making a perfect ‘X’ with his body. Then he heard a shout from below. It took him a moment to register the source of the noise. Two boys, walking between the science and language blocks, had noticed him and were shouting up to him. He couldn’t tell if they were being friendly or sounding anxious. He withdrew. He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself or to push his luck with Mr Jenkins. Not now, not when he was on the verge of something tumultuous.

  23

  Constance and Judith were seated at the table in a small meeting room at Constance’s office. Constance was reviewing the notes she had taken of their interview with Jaden, while they revived themselves with coffee and digestive biscuits.

  ‘What did you think?’ Constance asked.

  ‘Of Jaden?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I think we need to do what we can, to keep him positive.’

  ‘How do we do that?’

  ‘Work on Nathaniel. Get him to talk to Jaden about things they can do when he gets out, maybe planning some shows. And find out how he’s spending his days, see if there’s something he can do to occupy himself. I think he’s in danger of losing faith and that won’t serve him well in court.’

  Constance was reassured. If Judith was maintaining this stance, she must believe in Jaden.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll try. I didn’t have time to tell you earlier, I spoke to Sandy Bell, Liz’s friend.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing much, just reinforced a lot of things Dr Williams said. But she mentioned Liz giving evidence to a government committee a few months back and I had a look into it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘The government commissioned an enquiry, last year, into mental health and online gaming. They bowed to pressure from a charity set up by parents of problem gamers. Lots of people from different professions spoke to them and it’s recorded online, all the questions and answers.’

  ‘Including Liz’s contribution?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was their conclusion?’

  ‘It’s not been published yet, but the introduction is also available, setting out the history to the enquiry and it was really interesting, explaining all the different perspectives.’

  ‘And what did Liz say to them?’

  ‘She was invited to explain the mental health issues that people can experience. One of the key things she was pressing for, was for the manufacturers or the companies hosting the games to impose limits on playing time, to protect players from getting addicted.’

  ‘And what did the manufacturers say about that?’

  ‘They said it would spoil the games, though some people said they were focused more on their pockets. And she wanted the government to take a separate tax from them to fund research and treatment for addicts.’

  ‘I bet they loved that.’

  ‘It’s happening already in the USA.’

  ‘Has it? That’s ridiculous though, isn’t it, if you follow it through? You know a company is making and selling a harmful product, so you let it continue, as long as it helps tidy up the mess it created in the first place. Am I the only one to fail to see the logic or lack of morality in all of that?’

  ‘Their argument is that most people game safely and we shouldn’t deprive them of the pleasure they gain from that.’

  ‘In the words of Mandy Rice-Davies, “they would say that wouldn’t they?” Don’t worry. Old person’s reference. You can look her up later. Good work, though I imagine Liz made a lot of enemies with her stance. Finding someone who might have followed that up with violence – that would be like finding a needle in a haystack, although I do, perhaps, have a way in. Was it the Department of Health who set it up?’

  ‘You know someone there?’

  ‘I used to. I could probably pick up the relationship, if it would be useful.’ Judith opened up a photograph of Liz Sullivan lying dead and ran her fingers across her screen. ‘Can you send me the link to the sessions,’ she said. ‘I may as well have a look, together with everything else.’

  ‘Does that mean we’re not leading with the natural causes defence then? What did your pathologist friend say?’

  ‘I think we need to explore every possibility for now, not keep our enquiries too narrow. I was being totally frank when I told Jaden that juries dislike random events, things which just happen. But I fear that, without the police doing more to look for another culprit, that may be our best bet.’

  ***

  Constance returned home that evening with a long ‘to do’ list which she needed to trim. There was no way she could complete all these tasks and attend to her other clients. Judith had the luxury of one case at a time and could devote every waking hour to it, if she chose. Although, in some ways, Constance welcomed the distraction from Jaden and what might have happened in the bedroom of 38 Dunloe Close.

  She thought back to her lightning tour of Liz’s flat, with PC Thomas at her side. PC Thomas had been in a hurry – probably late for a date with an impatient partner – and had rushed Constance around at a tremendous pace, not allowing her to touch anything, despite the forensic team having finished long ago. At least she had been able to take some photographs. She called them up on her laptop now and flicked through them, one at a time.

  It was funny. Despite lots of personal touches, Liz’s flat hadn’t felt homely. There were plenty of books on the shelves, a couple of landscape prints on the wall and evidence of a last meal still sitting in the kitchen. It was probably because there were so many examples of solitary living; one pair of shoes by the door, one umbrella propped up in the corner, one towel in the bathroom.

  She tried to imagine them sitting together, Jaden and Liz, around the small table, laughing and joking. And then their progression to the bedroom. She was careful to take lots of photographs there, although she knew the pathologist would have plenty in her report.

  Try as she might, though, Constance couldn’t recall having seen any photographs of Will, Liz’s husband, anywhere. Sandy had said she was unsentimental, or was pretending to be, and that was certainly borne out in the place where she lived.

  There was one of Tom, a lovely snap, perched on top of the TV, of him running towards the camera, when he was much younger, his eyes shining with delight. And another image of a group of young men, attached to the fridge by a magnet. Constance was forbidden to pick it up, but she waited until PC Thomas took a call and then quickly pulled it off the fridge and checked the back where, scribbled in a looping scrawl she read To Dr Liz from Nick and the rest of the A team xx.

  She had replaced it carefully and then taken her own photo of it, which she studied now. Four young men, arm-in-arm, all laughing and cheering. Family or friends; she couldn’t say which. She would also mention it to Dawson, see if he had traced anyone in the picture.

  Dropping off on the sofa, uneaten dinner by her side, she had another dream about Jaden. This time, Constance was, herself, tied by her wrists to a four-poster bed, with an orange, camouflage-pattern bandana wrapped around her head. She was watching a game unfold on an enormous screen, which spanned the whole of the ceiling. The game involved tiny ant-like creatures fleeing before an enormous pair of black and red trainers, which were marching across a desert landscape, trampling everything in their path, clouds of dust rising up in their wake.

  ***

  Judith was feeling uncomfortable about her forthcoming meeting with Maisy Walton, former Minister for Health and an old friend of Martin’s, even more uncomfortable because it was such an unfamiliar experience for her to be uncomfortable. She usually tried to avoid putting herself in that position, at all costs.

  Judith had chosen lunch at the Bleeding Heart in Farringdon, tucked away from the hustle and bustle, hoping it would be quiet, but there were a fair number of people waiting for a table, as she spied Maisy crossing the courtyard to join her. Perhaps that was a good thing; if Maisy was unaccommodating, she could terminate things quickly, on the basis that they needed the table for the next lunch guests.

  The two women greeted each other with the customary kiss on both cheeks, Judith thinking that Maisy looked well on her retirement, albeit forced by an unexpected reshuffle. She knew Maisy would understand that there was a reason for the invitation – at least two years had passed since they were last in touch – but both women also appreciated the need to go through certain preliminaries, before Judith would get to the point.

  So, they ordered drinks and a light lunch and, after exchanging pleasantries, Maisy sat back, fixed her large, heavily-lined blue eyes on Judith and set the ball rolling.

  ‘Is it one of your cases you wanted to talk about,’ she asked, ‘or something charitable?’

  ‘Why would it be something charitable?’ Judith asked, amused by Maisy’s directness.

  ‘Thank goodness for that. People seem to think that, since I retired, all I want to do is volunteer for charitable work. Not that it isn’t worthwhile and I appreciate the very privileged position I am in, but I just can’t do it 24/7 and they only want me as a figurehead – “former cabinet minister” and all that. They don’t even care what I say. Actually, often I don’t even have to say anything. Good. It’s nice to be wanted for my brain again, but you’ll understand that.’

  Judith smiled and she wondered that she hadn’t tried harder at a friendship with Maisy, over the years. It was only now that she could be more objective. Before, her friends had been neatly divided into her own and those Martin introduced into their relationship and she had dropped the latter, as readily as she had thrown out Martin’s suits.

  ‘It’s about your consultation on online gaming and its impact on health.’

  ‘I remember it well. I sat in on some of the sessions. What did you want to know?’

  Judith wanted to know a million things, most importantly, why there were still no recommendations, but she was going to bide her time in getting there.

  ‘It was a very extensive exercise,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I saw that you had contributions from a variety of sectors.’

  ‘That’s always the way.’

  ‘How did you choose the contributors?’

  ‘Usually, we have someone do research, find the most eminent people, from both sides of the fence.’

  ‘Do you tell each contributor what the others have said, to give them an opportunity to put their side?’

  ‘Not exactly. That would be too unwieldy and take forever. What we do is we give each person an advance brief of areas we want them to cover. But then, if someone else has highlighted something new, outside the brief, which is relevant to that participant, we do raise it on the day and people can come back, if needed.’

  ‘And who reads it all and pulls together the recommendations?’

  ‘A team in the relevant department, in this case, my former department.’

  ‘How long does it usually take?’

  The waiter arrived with their food and Maisy waited until he had deposited their plates and left before replying.

  ‘Why are you interested in this?’ she said.

  ‘Elizabeth Sullivan was a doctor who gave evidence to the committee.’

  ‘Yes, I saw her name. And she’s dead now. I saw that too. Is that what this is about?’

  ‘The transcript of the Q and As suggests things were all very polite. But tempers must have flared, given that you had families of addicts giving evidence too.’

  ‘We tried hard to keep the different interest groups apart, asked them to come in on different days.’

  ‘But they could see what each other said?’

  ‘It was posted daily. You think someone we spoke to killed Dr Sullivan?’

  ‘Her views were unpopular with everyone in the gaming industry.’

  ‘You can see why. But that’s life. We don’t go around killing people we disagree with. If we did, we’d have to give up on freedom of speech and democracy. I don’t see how any of this can help you?’

  Judith began to eat her salad and Maisy followed suit. Then Judith paused.

  ‘Is absolutely everyone who gave evidence named?’ she asked.

  Now Maisy put down her knife and fork.

  ‘There were a few closed-door sessions – surprisingly, not from the addicts. You might have thought they wanted their privacy, but they were, generally speaking, happy to share. No, it was the gaming companies. They were worried about “confidential information”, so they said, giving something away which might benefit their competitors.’

  ‘And who were they?’

  ‘You’ll be able to identify them by process of elimination because the company name will appear in the list of contributors, but there won’t be a record of any interview.’

  ‘Is there any way I could get to see what they said, on a confidential basis?’

  Maisy shrugged. ‘What does that mean on a confidential basis? I’m not saying I don’t trust you. I just mean it will be confidential until you decide you want to use it and then you’ll find a no doubt perfectly legal way of doing so, but where will that leave me? I don’t have access any more, even if I was willing.’

  ‘That’s a shame. As you say, someone who was prepared to assassinate a devoted doctor, just because she held a different view on an important national health issue, that kind of person must be a threat to the very fabric of our society…as well as a murderer, of course.’

  Maisy frowned at Judith and carried on eating. But now was the time for Judith to ask the question that was really bothering her.

  ‘All right, I understand there are limits to what you can say,’ Judith said, careful to keep her voice even and matter of fact. ‘Something less controversial, then, without making you give away any secrets. Why, eight months on, is there still no conclusion, no recommendation, no action?’

  ‘It’s tricky stuff, with lots of competing priorities.’ Maisy answered quickly; clearly she had used this excuse before.

  ‘Even so, there must be a date when a response is expected?’

  Maisy finished one of her two fishcakes and wiped her mouth.

  ‘There’s no date of which I’m aware.’

  ‘Oh come on. All that taxpayers’ money?’

  ‘It’s been buried.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘But you didn’t hear that from me, OK?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If you’ve read any of it, I should think it’s patently obvious. Look, the government held a similar exercise in 2016, when they looked into regulation of our tech industry. They heard from all different areas, from big business, from pressure groups and the public. In the end, they decided not to impose any regulation – nothing at all, zilch – and to allow the industry to flourish unchecked. There was a push for the UK to become world leaders in technology and artificial intelligence – all of this was before Brexit of course – and, in order to encourage highly skilled people to come here, they wanted to make things as easy and lucrative as possible.’

  ‘And gaming benefitted from that?’

  ‘It is one industry, yes, that gained a lot and has garnered huge investment.’

  ‘And the natural conclusion of this latest enquiry would have interfered with that?’

  ‘Almost certainly, it would include some limitations. And the gaming companies would not only have been cross, but there were murmurings that they might sue.’

  ‘Sue the government?’

  ‘Only murmurings, like I say, but they would claim to have invested millions, perhaps hundreds of millions, in the industry, on the basis they could have free rein to create, develop, sell – to the UK public, at the very least – whatever they wanted. And that, for the government to come along four years later and curb all of that, potentially massively impacting their creativity – for “creativity” feel free to substitute “profit margins” – was wrong.’

  ‘Quite apart from the government’s own reduced tax revenue on profits?’

  ‘That too, yes.’

  ‘Will there never be a conclusion then?’

  ‘That, I don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t you feel bad about any of this?’

  Maisy had just resumed eating, but she stopped again. Perhaps Judith had pushed things too far. Instead, she took a sip of fizzy water.

  ‘I took my responsibilities very seriously,’ Maisy said, ‘and, if it had been my decision alone, then, notwithstanding all those other considerations, we would have recommended putting some framework in place. God knows it must be better to do it now, when the people making the decisions are, generally speaking, not people who play these games. Can you imagine what it will be like, if we leave things another fifteen years till Generation Z is in charge? It’s bad enough having the odd millennial in the team.’

  ‘Was it connected with your retirement, any of this?’

  ‘I had had enough, for a variety of reasons, most of which would bore you to death. Look, I’m sure that when the pressure from concerned people gets too great, something appropriate will be done with all the information we gathered. But, when I left, there was certainly no impetus to bring that day forward. Of course, with the death of Dr Sullivan, there’s one less voice to complain about it all.’