‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘He didn’t say he was going, but I can’t be sure. He didn’t always say first. Sometimes, I would just find him gone. That day, I was playing rugby near Oxford. We didn’t get back till around eleven. There was an accident on the road and we were stuck for ages. Then we had stuff to unpack and we got something to eat. I probably didn’t get to bed till around midnight.’

  ‘And Tom was in your room, when you returned?’

  ‘Sitting up in bed. And we talked about the match.’

  ‘He didn’t say he’d been to see his mum?’

  ‘No, but I saw his coat behind the door and it was wet.’

  ‘His coat was wet?’

  ‘When I asked him, he said he’d sneaked out for a cigarette with one of the other boys.’

  ‘You think that wasn’t true?’

  ‘I think it probably was true. Tom did go out to smoke in the woods sometimes, not that often at night, but, maybe as I was away, he was bored. I’m just saying I can’t say for sure where he was that night. Then, the next day is when the police came.’

  ‘How did Tom react when they told him about his mum?’

  ‘I wasn’t there. He was in Mr Jenkins’ office. But we all heard him. He kind of screamed. Then nothing. Just nothing.’

  ***

  Judith and Greg tucked into their takeaway, Greg having insisted they eat from the foil containers. He said it was to save washing up at a time when Judith was busy, and that it made the experience more authentic. Judith watched him as he spoke; the lights gleaming in his eyes. Even with this simple gesture, Greg was challenging her again; she knew that. He was aware of how difficult she would find it not to decant the chicken curry on to a plate, but he wanted to see if she could restrain herself, like forcing a cleaning fanatic to sit in front of a pile of dust on the floor, or an arachnophobe to hold a spider. The one concession he made was metal cutlery. Even he balked at eating with a short-handled wooden fork.

  ‘I messaged you,’ Greg said, in between mouthfuls.

  ‘I know. It was rude of me not to reply. I’ve just been so busy,’ Judith said.

  ‘You stood me up at Delamina?’

  ‘You can’t stand someone up if you haven’t agreed to meet them in the first place.’

  ‘I should learn not to argue with a lawyer, shouldn’t I? What’s keeping you so busy this time?’

  Judith paused and laid down her fork.

  ‘I know you’re in regular contact with Constance and our trial has been in the news – not front page, but still up there.’

  ‘All right. I know about the Elizabeth Sullivan case. That’s why I thought you might need some sustenance. I remembered how you forget to eat when you’re working so hard. How is it going?’

  ‘It’s going well, in the sense that we may get Jaden acquitted, of the murder at the very least, but I can’t work out what really happened that night.’

  ‘You always say that doesn’t matter, to focus on getting your client off. Connie’s always the one seeking the whole truth.’

  ‘Yes, but I also don’t want to put forward an argument in court which I don’t believe in. It isn’t right. I’ve been trying to persuade the jury…and myself, that Liz Sullivan just died, just like that and it was a pure coincidence that it happened after Jaden’s visit. But the more I delve into things, the less I believe that was the case. There are some…conflicting pieces of evidence.’

  Now Greg stopped eating.

  ‘Tell me what’s bothering you. Use me as your sounding board. It may help to have a fresh perspective.’

  Judith sat back and thought for a moment. Then she pushed her food to the centre of the table.

  ‘All right, the key points, without breaking any confidences,’ she said. ‘Liz Sullivan was an accomplished and dedicated psychiatrist, who specialised in gaming addiction. She asked Jaden Dodds, a well-known local gamer and her neighbour, to help her with her car and then invited him in for dinner and sex. She ended up dead – cardiac arrest – turns out she had an undiagnosed heart condition. But here are the loose ends. First, she had traces of two kinds of anti-depressant in her body, only one prescribed by her doctor. Second, and this one’s really odd, I think that, at some stage in the one or two days before her death, she was strapped to a chair in her bedroom for so long that she urinated on it because she couldn’t get to the bathroom.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Connie and I want to know who tied her to the chair and why, but it may be totally unconnected to her death. At the same time, I know her meeting with Jaden wasn’t random. She was researching the impact of gaming on the behaviour of young men. I believe she targeted Jaden and Nathaniel, his flatmate, for her research. Maybe, if she hadn’t died, she would have told them who she was and asked them to participate in one of her studies? But I can’t prove it. Then, it seems she had also contributed to a government enquiry into the impact of gaming, which has been mothballed at the request of someone on high. Maybe, someone heard Liz’s testimony, or read it online, and decided to get rid of her. And her phone was stolen, so we don’t have her contacts or messages.’

  ‘He has a website, your Jaden?’

  ‘He’s on this service called Twitch, and YouTube also.’

  ‘Did Liz Sullivan follow him?’

  ‘I haven’t checked. I wasn’t sure how to?’

  ‘You have her laptop?’

  ‘I leave those things to Connie.’

  ‘All right. I can’t help you with the drugs, the chair, the government enquiry. You’ll need to work those out or put some more manpower on the job. But I can easily help with the other stuff – what your dead doctor was doing online. I’ll need to take a look at her laptop, at her browsing history. It will almost certainly shed some light on what she was up to with Jaden. I’ll go over to Connie’s as soon as we’ve finished.’

  ‘But we don’t know what name she used?’

  ‘She won’t have been too cryptic, I can guarantee. I’ve cracked countless passwords in my time, as you know. And people like Liz – doctors, lawyers, teachers – they’re not good at hiding their identities, because they can’t see the point. You wait. I can guarantee it’ll be more obvious than you think.’

  Judith watched Greg as he rejected his empty foil container and peered into hers to see what she had left behind. Quite apart from his usefulness on this particular aspect of the case, and the fact that the food had been welcome, she was genuinely pleased to see him. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed speaking to him and how, on occasion, it was refreshing for someone else to take control.

  ***

  Constance caught Sandy on the phone, on her way to a gym class. She was apologetic, but it was her one luxury of the week, she said. But she could spare five minutes, if she could find a quiet place to speak.

  Despite Constance’s probing, she was adamant that Liz hadn’t told her she was seeing anyone. Only that slight feeling she had had that Liz was out somewhere and keeping it a secret. Constance had sent her the photo of the four men she had found in Liz’s flat, before the call, but Sandy had replied with a question mark, followed a few minutes later with one word: ‘patients?’ Constance had sighed. She had considered that possibility herself, but there was no way she could find information on any of Liz’s patients. All their identities were hidden in the studies she published.

  Constance decided to grasp the nettle, and asked Sandy if she thought Liz and Tony Williams might have been romantically involved. Sandy had guffawed with laughter.

  ‘Oh no! Definitely not. I mean, they were perfectly good friends and worked together, as you know, but he was far too cautious for Liz. She liked men with big personalities, like Will. Those were the people she was drawn towards. And she was critical of colleagues having work relationships – thought it compromised their professionalism. Sorry I can’t help more.’

  30

  Luke was waiting for Eric at the bar of their hotel. He had already been hanging around for more than half an hour, but he didn’t mind. He had downed a delicious cocktail and was savouring a second, while people of all shapes and sizes wafted past. Not only did he feel comfortable from his vantage point, but the layout of the bar had sparked off an idea for a backdrop to use in Midas, which had lifted his spirits even further.

  ‘Midas’. He rolled the name around in his head, as he had been doing for days now. It had taken a little time for it to bed down. It was like when his best mate, Simon, had a baby. He and his wife called it ‘the baby’ for at least the first month and, even now, Simon sometimes forgot his son’s name. But now Luke was finally used to ‘Midas’, accepting of it, embracing it and everything associated with it, and at just the right time. ‘Mi-das’, ‘Mi-das’, ‘Mi-das’. Eric had been right. It was a superlative name and he couldn’t wait to hear everyone shouting it from the rooftops. He took a deep breath and allowed the sweetly-scented air to fill his chest.

  The two days had been a triumph – hence the cocktails and relaxed frame of mind. Numerous people had congratulated Eric on yesterday’s speech, and more still had been enquiring about Valiant, its games and what Midas looked like. Most importantly, despite some predictions from the pessimists, the Olympic committee had stayed the distance, had engaged with a number of the speakers and conversed freely with the other delegates. They had listened and clapped and nodded in the right places, indicating, at the very least, some careful thought being given to the various proposals. It was a huge step forward for Esports.

  Luke checked his watch. He would have to wait at least another half hour, he decided, before he could reasonably give up on Eric. He had seen Ruth, the woman who had asked the first question, hovering in the lobby when they had both returned and it had crossed his mind that she might have been looking out for Eric. Luke had to hand it to Eric. He could turn on the charm whenever he wanted, and he seemed to have all the right people eating out of his hand.

  And, of course, there was Luke’s own future. He had picked up a few contacts too, as modestly and self-effacingly as he could, while continuing to pretend to be the great sportsman Eric had publicly lauded. Eric clearly considered it a great joke, compounding matters by intervening when Luke was asked which sports he particularly enjoyed. ‘Basketball is his best sport,’ Eric had winked at Luke from behind his glass, before adding ‘and rowing. Our office is right by the River Thames.’

  Twenty minutes passed, his enthusiasm began to wane and he was considering heading out to grab some dinner, alone, when Eric appeared, swaying slightly as he crossed the room, his face a mass of smiles. He seized Luke by the shoulders, as he had that day in the office, and Luke braced himself for another kiss, which never came. Instead, Eric encircled him in a tight bear hug, followed by a hearty slap on the back.

  ‘Here you are,’ he said, his speech leaning towards slurred. ‘This is where you’ve been hiding.’

  Luke decided this wasn’t the time to remind Eric of their arrangement to meet almost an hour earlier.

  ‘Yes, I’m here,’ he replied weakly. ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Would I like a drink? I certainly would. Whisky would be good. Jack Daniel’s straight up. My shout.’

  He collected their drinks from the barman and beckoned Luke to follow him into one of the booths. Luke suddenly began to feel nauseous. Maybe it was drinking on an empty stomach. More likely it was the recollection of his terrifying encounter with Eric, the one involving the bottle, the Sellotape and Major Valiant. However much he tried to shrug it off, however much he reminded himself of what he owed Eric, it still encroached on his thoughts in moments of tension – and that included Eric being obviously on a journey to inebriation and carrying a glass in his hand: ‘minnow’, ‘domino’, ‘dodo’.

  ‘You never know who’s listening in these places,’ Eric confided, oblivious to Luke’s inner torment. ‘So!’ he announced, grinning again and throwing his arms out wide. ‘What a trip!’

  ‘What a trip,’ Luke repeated, with what he hoped would pass for genuine gusto. He sipped at his drink and pushed away the dark thoughts clouding his mind.

  ‘Such wonderful feedback for my speech…well, your speech. Credit where it’s due. Who’d have thought you were such a master with words? Ideas, yes – a creative genius – but so good with words too. You could write speeches for a living. People would pay you a lot of money, you know that?’

  ‘I’d rather design games.’

  ‘Is the right answer!’ Eric downed his drink and waved for another. ‘Anyway, let’s catch up now. So many names, contacts, meetings I’ve set up – some of them for you too. We’re going somewhere. I’ll tell you that for nothing. This time next year, your name will be in lights.’

  Luke nodded and lifted his glass to his lips again, but this time he didn’t drink.

  ‘Listen, I’m just remembering. I was supposed to meet you here at 8 o’clock, wasn’t I?’ Eric was suddenly serious.

  ‘Well…’

  ‘And, what time is it now?’

  ‘It’s nearly nine.’

  ‘I got a bit delayed, that’s all. I am sorry. You know that woman, Ruth, who asked me the question yesterday?’

  ‘Yes.’ Luke’s hunch had been spot on.

  ‘She wanted a bit more info on Midas. I gave her a few hints. I only just managed to get rid of her.’

  Luke suddenly felt panic rising inside him.

  ‘You didn’t tell her much about it, did you?’

  ‘Nothing important; don’t worry.’

  But Luke was still worried.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Luke said, rather too quickly. ‘Ex post facto’, ‘out the window’, ‘ELMO’, he thought.

  ‘You think I told her all about Midas. You think she wheedled it out of me, the way some women do.’

  Amazing, wasn’t it? If Eric were a dog, he would be a bloodhound. He could be half-cut and still sniff out Luke’s innermost thoughts and fears. Maybe that came with the martial arts training. All those Southeast Asian techniques; people thought they were just about fighting, but Luke knew they were all about the senses too.

  ‘No… I…’

  ‘She was a plant, OK?’

  ‘A plant?’

  ‘I got her to ask that question. I wasn’t sure she’d do it, but I thought it worked pretty well.’

  ‘I would never have guessed.’

  ‘So, I had to take a few minutes with her, earlier this evening, to…show my gratitude. You must appreciate that.’

  ‘Uh…yes. And the other guy?’

  ‘Oh no. That was the real deal. I haven’t got to anyone on the Olympic committee; well, not yet, anyway. I was on my own for that one.’

  Luke laughed then, relieved that all the secrets of his game had not been relayed to the pushy woman in the red trousers.

  ‘Listen, there is something I want to…canvass with you. No obligation; of course not; very much your own decision.’

  Luke’s bullshit radar twitched sharply and then careered off the scale. He knew exactly what those words meant, especially when delivered by Eric; something was coming that was totally non-negotiable.

  ‘It’s something Ruth alerted me to,’ Eric said. ‘It’s that maybe we need to rethink the name…of the game. Another company has used “Midas” in the past. Nothing like our game – something pretty tame – but we may not want to risk it. I remember you weren’t so keen on the name anyway.’

  Luke swallowed hard and tried to control his pulse, which was also leaping around erratically. Didn’t Eric realise how much time and energy Luke had expended on the new game? That he had embraced the new specification and the new name, despite some early reservations, and that everything he had done since that fateful November day was to build Midas?

  ‘There are lots of other names of kings we could use, if we had to and if you wanted to, I mean. There’s Julius Caesar or Arthur or Richard the Lionheart or even older ones like…Tutankhamen. That would help with the gold, too. You wouldn’t have to change all the gold stuff.’

  Luke tried to steady his breathing. This just wasn’t fair. He knew, if he was rational, that Eric was trying to do the right thing, but he wasn’t feeling rational. He was feeling perverse and stroppy and downright angry. ‘Ego’, ‘fiasco’, ‘overthrow’.

  Why hadn’t Eric done his research, before he insisted that Luke make all those changes? The game was all built around Midas now, and the gold mine. And even though he acknowledged that the Tutankhamen guy was kind of linked to gold, with that great big golden scary-eyed mask, it wasn’t the same, and no one could spell his name anyway. Midas it was and Midas it had to be.

  ‘I can see you want to think about it,’ Eric was saying. ‘And that’s no problem. We should revisit it, though, once we’re back in London, before we do any more marketing. I didn’t realise what an asset Ruth was, I have to admit that. She’s come up trumps on so many levels this time.’

  Luke was no longer hungry. He just wanted to sleep. And despite his enormous disappointment, he was holding it together – just.

  ‘Not that they’re all as reliable as Ruth, you be warned,’ Eric’s mouth kept on going. ‘Lucky, I didn’t tell that other bitch too much, before I knew about her,’ he said. ‘Gerry’s still having kittens about it, but I was careful, I told him. I never showed her the storyboards or the prototypes; a bit of banter and a few numbers here and there won’t have given her anything to go on. Bitch!’ Eric downed his refill and snarled his words at Luke.

  Luke immediately reconsidered his assessment that there was anything appealing about Eric. Maybe his sleuthing skills came from advanced military training for mercenaries or his experiences with his various ex-wives (Gillian had mentioned two to him now; Samantha, known as Sam, and Bev), which had made him so suspicious. Even so, Luke checked over each shoulder that no one was close enough to witness Eric’s meltdown. After the tremendous success of the conference, he wouldn’t want to spoil things now.